October 29, 2009

I don't have time to write this, but.

I'm disappointed that my busyness makes me inconsiderate to others. I'm thankful for my family's, especially my mom's, patience with me. I am hopeful and perhaps too optimistic about finishing everything I should by Saturday. And though I regret that I will likely be squashed at the next round robin because I've had no time to solidify my arguments or fix my apologetics cards, I'm thankful for all the things I am able to do. God is merciful. I keep thinking about Philippians 4:7, "and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." I also hope I'm truly surrendering all, not just being beguiled into a fake calmness induced by a combination of Jon Foreman's voice and my tiredness. "Tired like a child after weeping, empty like a sky after rain." I don't remember where that's from. Okay, I must go now, VFW essay calls. I'll catch up with you... sometime in November? Ha.

October 25, 2009

The dream brings us closer to reality.

"Plato argued that art is 'thrice removed' from reality: A painting is an imperfect representation or copy of a man who himself is an imperfect copy of the real thing, Man...

...Plato advocated banishing the arts- at least the representative arts- from an ideal society. Aristotle, with his view of immanent Forms, draws exactly the opposite conclusion. It is because the essence and ideal of things are embodied in those things that the artistic representation brings us closer to reality." -Questions that Matter, p 76.

(I'd like to write this quote in calligraphy, or paint it onto a serene background, and paste it on my wall to inspire me during NaNoWriMo.)

"My life is the poem I would have writ / But I could not both live and utter it"

I want to share my life, the little delights and sorrows that fill me. My thoughts from the Metropolitan Museum of Art yesterday, my concerns about living and speaking as a witness, little things like the wisdom I see in the people around me. And even the confusing but wonderful moments of irrational emotion. Also my frustration, self-deprecation, and excuses at getting B on my philosophy essay.

It seems I don't have enough time to tell all of these thoughts in depth. So much of my life is lived without being told. Better that than to tell without living.

October 23, 2009

The pieces are starting to fit together.

I finally figured out what my NaNoWriMo novel is going to be about!
I already had a semblance of a plot, and a great deal of ideas, but talking it out with Colleen helped me realize that it didn't hold together.
Today I decided the book is going to be about metaphysics. And existentialism. And about how everything is real.
I'm excited.

(I hope that every post I make about NaNoWriMo will boost my potential humiliation if I don't finish it in time, and thus inspire me to keep writing it even when I'm not excited.)

October 21, 2009

I have 52 minutes until my self-appointed bedtime. My mind is racing with things to do. I want to read through more of art curriculum- this book is about design. I want to paint myself an avatar. I want (I want to have done, at least) to do my Greek. I want to read this book about cooperation so I can blog about it on the Manus Oratorum website. I want to patch up the numerous holes in my NaNoWriMo plot. I want to read more of Lilith. I want to listen to music. Mostly, I'm just thankful that I have some free time. It's refreshing. I want to be as busy as I was today tomorrow, so my free time is as lovely! Alright, I have 48 minutes left now. :waves goodbye:

October 19, 2009


has one day to write three more scenes for the "family" skit she's co-writing.
does everything she can to avoid writing this play.
can't decide if it should be called a play or skit.
thinks that play sounds more impressive.
is having trouble thinking of what should happen to the family once they land on the alien planet.

is a procrastinator.
thinks that was needless to say.
is contemplating actually doing something productive in her procrastination, instead of just listening to music, reading blog posts she's already read, or reading MLIA.
is getting tired of this blog post.
is clicking "publish post."
would like to point out that one cannot actually type and click something at the same time.


I'm confused. I barely flinch when my college classmates talk about their f*ing whatever, or use other bad language to talk about their annoyance at teachers or homework. I'm disgusted to think of myself saying those words, but I don't know if I really care if other people do.

Even though I think I've always been guilty, I don't like to think of myself as having lost my innocence. I mean, don't I have a reputation for not making coarse jokes or saying bad words? Ugh, I want to think good of myself! In a way, I feel like the same me of, say, a year ago. I'm a little shocked when I hear a friend talk about her "crappy autumn." I flinch at one word in the otherwise lovely "You Don't Know Me." (Ben Folds, featuring Regina Spektor) But only when I thought of who might be scrolling through my iPod did I think to delete it. I don't know if my mind is clean, or if I'm just decent at discerning what the people around me would judge me for.

I feel like swears are devalued. When I hear them, at least, they're not used in anger or real frustration. To me, they're just another culture's set of words, not offensive to anyone within that group (college kids). I don't use them partially because I find them distasteful, but mostly, I think, because my life is almost completely spent around people who aren't comfortable with them. But if my Philosophy friends want to go around using foul language, (most of the time they're not taking God's name in vain) sure, that's okay, just don't look down on me for having a clean mouth. So I don't know if my attitude is too casual or too critical. Or both. Or neither?

I don't know who I am, or who I've become. I don't like that I seem to be only concerned with perception: I want to be seen as innocent without making others frustrated at me. Do I know what is right and do it for the wrong reasons? Is bad language even moral issue?

I find it weird that I'm okay with listening to a song about piss and 409 but feel awkward when/if Mom or Col is around.

I find it strange that I seem to have the same to stance to all "bad language" even when they're on vastly different levels. Gosh, darn, and freaking are all in the same category as the worst of them: say them if you want, but I'm not about to. Or perhaps not, since I sometimes find myself almost saying the first three, or using them in my journal. Bleh.

Should bad language bother me? Should I be responding, "WHAT did I just hear?" rather than, "arg, I suppose I should delete this song"? Should I respond more forcefully when I hear bad language around me? But, what right do I have to tell other people to clean up their mouths when I don't think it bothers me too much? Maybe it would bother me, if I heard swear words being used to show hate. I suppose it's good that I don't hear that. But at least then the words would actually mean something.

October 16, 2009


I love the idea of loving people.
I love the idea of people.
People are amazing, made in the image of our Almighty God! I like to believe that people have so much to share, because everyone thinks, everyone feels, everyone is human.

Somehow idea people are easier to love than real-life people.

Oh, dichotomy!

I want my life to prove Plato wrong. Not everything he said, much of it was so right, but the part about there being two worlds, the becoming world separate from the being.

I want to love human beings, not just human becomings. Because every wonderful thing about people is true no matter how imperfect they are.

These are the words of silence

I think I am love with music. Or people. Or living.

I set today apart for debate. Perhaps instead I'll work on ReCAP. Perhaps I'll try to find the three more platforms I need for YSG. Perhaps I'll write my part of the delightful skit about aliens I'm writing for our Chapter's community project.

I agree with Hayley, I am very cold, and I need some fingerless gloves. I still haven't finished the ones I started knitting... like a year ago. Yesterday I found the yarn and needles and one-and-a-half gloves I had already knitted, so I should have the gloves finished soon!

Yesterday it seemed I was inundated with interesting thoughts. And now they feel out of place to write about.

I wonder why I feel sometimes feel not present in the situation. Am I just fooling myself in thinking that I didn't completely act like myself yesterday? Random quote from yesterday: "Rebecca is the kind of person who actually deserves an ipod." Source, my friend Suzanna. :)

I started a little index of my commonplace-notebook, with the intent of writing down the page numbers to particular thoughts that have consumed me, and the ones that made my heart ache. I think it would give a better sense of completion to the notebook, since it's completely full now.* The index is entitled: "Don't Judge Me" or "Don't Call Me a Judger." An informal Index or users' guide to my common-place notebook.

I feel the part about not calling me a judger is justified, as I haven't begun indexing yet, and I don't know if I ever will.

More irony is that yesterday I had a blog post draft open with nothing in it except a subject line. The title was "Everything."

I should read more.

I can't decide if blogging is preferable to individual conversations. I don't think it is, it's less personal, only it's very efficient to talk about my life to a bunch of my friends at once.

I wonder if I should study more for the PSAT tomorrow.

I love the voice recording function on my ipod.

I feel shallow. I am self-absorbed and I care too much about how I look in front of you all. I am now feeling self-conscious for being insecure. I don't like being wrong. I want to be confident. I wonder if it's contrived to feel the peace of God through a song. I wonder if it's incorrect to attribute a mood to the work of God. I adore the song "Dreamlife" by Sleeping at Last. I want to be real. I like feeling emotions. I am richly blessed.

*My new one is a little red book that says "notebook" on it, and it's over fifty years old. The cover is kind of falling off, so I taped it, and was disappointed when I found we only had imitation duct tape. I used clear tape instead. It's probably foolish to keep my thoughts in a book that isn't sturdy.

October 12, 2009

Self-inflicted Headache

I got my ipod today. And I'm overwhelmed (to put it lightly) by how much work it will take to organize all of my music into iTunes. I think Genius is tremendously cool. I'm frustrated that I can't seem to easily change the name of a file. And it puts music from CD mixes into separate folders. How do you all manage your music? I think I need help. How do you form playlists? Do you rate all hundreds, thousands of songs you have? *sigh* I have 4 days of music on here, most of it from Kristen. To add to the difficulty, is that I only bought an 8 G nano, and I have 8.49 G of music right now in iTunes. I need to delete some songs. Grr!

October 9, 2009

"Avocado" always reminds me of Avogadro's number

The avocados I've had as my avatar for a while decided they'd like some more publicity. And, it seems I'm on a roll today.

Carousel Horse

I will admit that it was copied from a photograph, but you must excuse me, I don't have any carousel horses in my house to model it off of.

Yet another reason why I'm excited about NaNoWriMo

When I finish my book, I'll get to design my cover art! :)

Meditations on essay-writing

I sit here and type and listen and read, again yielding my soul, committing my self to the demands of thought. The fabric of the family tears away and wraps around myself. Everything of life is thrown into work. It's always hungry, this essay, and never is it fully satisfied. It stays small and thin and unhealthy, continually shedding skins to reveal the meager substance of itself. How can nothingness be refined? How can I express what falls apart in my hands? It's only dust, and has not lived a life of vigor before returning to dust again. I'm apt to believe Plato and declare that for human artists, there is no creation but reformation.

October 8, 2009

"You are my feast"

So much should have been food to me
But truth and beauty passed
I barely smelled them as they came to view:
A foolish, crippling, fast

The needy spirit within me
Awakening, cried to eat
And finally its longing
was what pulled me to my feet

I looked around for sustenance,
But at heart the truth I knew
All the action leaves me empty
I'm only satisfied by You.

(title unknown)

I feel like I'm living my life outside-in. I do everything and think nothing. When my friends ask how I am, I give them a laundry list of my most recent tasks. When they ask what I'm thinking about, I tell them about my essay. This is not real thinking.

I feel like I'm living in a daze. When our Student Guides meeting was starting today (happiness!) I was startled to hear laughing and talking coming in our door. Our home is not usually very loud. I seem to not think about how I act or what I say before I say it. It's strange, but not unfamiliar.

I (I again. I'm going to stop this.) My (a little better, perhaps? More variety at least...) phone skills have quite improved, and I was able to call a possible platform today. It may work out, it may not.

See? Again what is written is about my actions, and not my mind. It seems that real thinking has not happened for a while. (Avoiding writing "I" is hard.) It's hard to determine if my presentation of myself is accurate, if my friends are seeing who I (unavoidable) am. I'll stop the censorship of my selfishness. How ironic, my Voice of Democracy essay is centered on selfishness, and how it prevents us from appreciating America's heroes.

I feel inexplicably sad and wistful right now. I don't know why. I don't understand myself. I deeply desire to go outside by myself and run around in the park. Only, the park is closed at dark and I'm not usually allowed out alone at night, even though our town is safe. I wish one of you were here with me and would walk with me underneath the cloudy, New Jersey sky, where most stars are hidden and where the roads we make our sidewalks are constantly interrupted by cars.

It's getting cold. I wonder if I like autumn. Today was beautiful, simply beautiful. It saddens me that my productivity level drops so dramatically when I go outside to work. That's why I didn't go out today. I feel drawn to the outdoors- the music of eternity is louder there. I laugh internally because I like the way I wrote that.

I am often hesitant to post because I have so many loyal readers. I feel as if it's a let-down when I post little insignificant self-indulgent things. I wish I could think without thinking about myself. I wish I could write intelligently without using the first person.

I've written quite a lot already, and I'm feeling ashamed. This is not right,because shame and insecurity and sadness have died! Do I forget so easily? Why does my gaze stray from His? How can I come to God without feeling as if I come for my own satisfaction and fulfillment, rather than His pleasure? I wonder if it will feel like eavesdropping for you if I write anything more.

(now go be amused at the title of this post, it's like being busy and writing "Invisible" as your status message.)

Characteristic of most posts I don't post, except that this one is being posted.

I have nothing to say. Or what I have to say I express already, in status messages, emails, essays... I entitled my philosophy essay "Disembodied Doubt." It amused me slightly.

I finally decided on an outline for my Voice of Democracy essay. I just hope it doesn't all fall through as I start to write it. I was supposed to have finished the outline two weeks ago. Oh well.

I wonder how to write eloquently. The sentence structure in this blog post is very bland.

I am helping teach writing to a bunch of kids in my homeschool group. I am breaking about every rule in the book.

I start nearly every sentence with I. I wonder if I should stop.

I enjoy listening to albums on myspace music.

I like living. I sound self-absorbed. I need to get past my writing block. I may regret posting this. I have to go study Malay now.


October 1, 2009


It seems that I'm finally preparing the speech for which I've been preparing all along.

I'm sure you know the verses you hear all the time in defense of speech and debate. The point of persuasive speaking is so we can defend our faith and speak the truth. So we can bear witness to others of what God has shown us and done for us.

I feel as if this is the speech of all speeches. But what makes it so hard is that it's not even a speech! I've been instructed to practice speaking my testimony so I can deliver it in an informal conversation. And while I have logical and persuasive skills, it is so hard to apply it to this! I don't want to present what I believe as simply a logical argument, trying to refute objections to following Christ.

So what I presented in Chapter today focused on life in the Spirit, and how dwelling in God gives me joy. All these words! Joy, love, peace, life, home, dwell, Spirit, breathe. I can't seem to focus on one. Because what I've been asked to tell in two minutes, in a conversation, without pretense, is my life, my whole existence. How am I supposed to have a thesis when I am just there pouring out what is on my heart?

I feel as if I've become too "feelerish" in my approach. But just talking about Truth, and how Christianity is reasonable, seems hollow. I want people to care! Yet it's stupid to impact my argument for faith, and show why it matters to me, if the link and brink are non-existent.

And I don't even know who I'm going to give this "speech" to. So how can I prepare a full defense of faith? Even if I knew exactly who I'd talk to, I can't say everything. I can't. I can't. I can't.

I guess I have sub-consciously given up making this organized already, so I may as well add that Kaitlyn just chatted me in response to my status message. She tells me,
"words fall short. brains can't comprehend. emotions don't grasp the stakes. thoughts don't provide closure. Yet, He is there."
I need to think about what I'm going to say some more. But oh... I don't want to think that I'm selling God to consumers. I'm talking about a person. A friend, a Father, a lover even. And He tells me, and I believe Him, that He will teach me what to say.