Week 2: No Shampoo

Okay, before you shrink away in disgust at the concept of my hair going without shampoo for an entire week, hear me out.

Awhile ago, I read an article on Amanda's blog about going without shampoo (sorry, can't find the entry anymore). Anyway, the simplified theory is that most shampoos contain harmful chemicals that strip your hair of its natural oils, therefore requiring your body to make much more oil to compensate. If the shampoo is removed, the body will, supposedly, adjust and produce much less oil.

At first, I scoffed. Hah.

But then, after weeks of frustration with my quite dry yet perplexingly greasy hair, I threw up my hands and cried the words I vowed I never would: "I hate my hair!"

Since then, I've done my best to read a variety of articles about this no shampoo philosophy. I found lots of articles saying the same thing--that you can use baking soda and apple cider vinegar as a replacement for shampoo--but I still had many unanswered questions. Do I still use conditioner? How often do I use this shampoo replacement? How long will it take for my hair to transition from overly greasy to oil equilibrium?



This article from wikiHow helped a bit. It basically encouraged me to use a less expensive conditioner to cleanse my hair and give my scalp a little massage, followed by leaving a moisturizing conditioner in my hair for about 5 minutes. Once or twice a week, it recommends using the baking soda shampoo substitute. Feeling I had nothing to lose, I decided to follow this strategy for a few weeks and see where it takes me. The last time I used shampoo was Monday, December 21.

So far, the difference is very slight. My hair feels a little greasier than average, but I'm hoping that my body will adjust in the predicted 2-4 weeks. I haven't even used the baking soda yet--just 1-2 rounds of conditioner with each shower. Who knows... depending on the outcome, maybe I'll even post before and after pictures.

It's definitely too early for me to have an opinion one way or another about this no shampoo business, but I do feel like my hair is happier with me--like I'm not killing it slowly with each wash. And for that, I'm grateful.

Conversations at Dove

This morning I played piano at the church service at Dove Healthcare center. I use the words "played" and "service" very liberally here. My attempts to accompany the service were limited to pounding out the melody and alto part with my right hand.The scrap of paper I wrote the hymns down on was accidentally thrown away by an innocent member of my family and I didn't realize until too late. No practice for me. Also, anyone who has attended one of these "services" knows that they are very similar to what I'd imagine holding a long chapel at a daycare would be like.

When I arrived, I sat at the piano to quickly run through the hymns for that morning. A old couple was seated almost immediately to my left. As I started to warm up, I overheard the following exchange between the husband and wife:

Woman (very loudly): Look. Look at her. She doesn't look well at all.
{and since she is three feet away, I can tell from the corner of my eye that she is pointing right at me}

Man: What?

Woman: She doesn't look well.

Man: She can hear you.

Woman: What?

Man: She can hear you what you're saying!

Woman: Really? No...

Man: Yes, I can tell.

Woman: You can tell?

Man: Yes, I can tell! I can tell just by looking at her.

(Long pause while both of them lean forward and stare at me while I stumble through the rest of the verse).

Yikes, I've never tried harder to keep a blank face. Playing for Dove is never boring.

OK, one more video, GO

This past Thursday I had to chance to see one of my favorite bands in concert at the UW. OK Go's next CD doesn't come until January, but they released their latest music video just a few days ago. And it is outstanding.



If the video isn't working, try this link.
Sorry about the lyrics, but you've got to check the video out... It is just fascinating.


If you like it, check out some of their other music videos (you've probably seen the treadmill one before). They are all extremely original.

yes, i'm resorting to cute animal videos to fill my blog

Most of this grey, overcast Saturday will be spent catching up on laundry and cleaning my room, but first I just had to share this short video. This kitten should brighten up your afternoon.

It's all Steinbeck's fault

On a bright Saturday morning a few weekends ago, I took a trip to Crossroad Books with Janie. I am ashamed to say it was my first trip. How had I never been there before? The store is small, crowded, musty, and stacked floor to ceiling with books--everything a bookstore should be.

While waiting for Janie to find the books she needed for class, I walked up and down the aisles, hoping to find something I couldn't say no to. I happened upon this novel:

I found this book in 11th grade when I was required to select from a long list a book by an American author. I can remember the exact setting in which I finished reading this book. And let me tell you, it is heartwrenching. Absolutely devastating.

I have read many books, and I have cried many times. But for some reason, this book was different. For some reason, this book hit a spot that no other book had. I must have finished it during a study hall I was spending in the Commons or a lunch period, because I remember walking from the Commons up to Reim Hall in a daze. Shannon was walking with me, and I simply recall babbling on to her about how beautifully tragic the story was... how much I loved it... how deeply it touched me... and how at this moment I knew, that whatever I did in my life, I wanted in some way to affect others. Just like that book had affected me, I wanted to affect others. I remember saying that I wanted to make others feel things. Feel emotions! Whether good or bad, I didn't even care. I just had to impact others. I knew I sounded like a complete hopeless and ridiculous mess, but I didn't care. I wasn't ashamed.

Even now, years later, I can still feel what I felt on that day with perfect clarity. And so, when I picked up an old used copy of The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights by Steinbeck that Saturday morning, I knew I had to take it home with me. I felt I owed it at least that much. Every time I think about my future, about what I could possibly do in my life, I remember that book, and the way I felt when I finished it.

How's that for over-dramatic?

new policy

I picked up the newspaper this morning, and this was the headline:

Lutherans drop gay clergy ban.

It just saddens me. This is a denomination that was born in a reformation, that was founded on the belief that the Bible is the TRUTH, and that turned away from everything that the world at the time was saying. It just saddens me that a denomination so built on Scripture alone is caving in to the pressures of society so easily.

What next?

after thought

Looking back on my post from last night, I realize I sounded quite bitter. I sounded upset. Well, I'm not. The truth is, I just felt sad. I look around at all of the amazing resources and people in my church and community and I just want everyone to grow in Christ to their full potential. I look at myself and I see someone doing the bare minimum (but still doing a lot of talking). And I just feel like too often we fall short and take the easy way out, we avoid personal interaction and discussing the difficult topics. I want us to feel comfortable supporting and loving one another.

I speak out of love, because I know through Christ we can do more. I have hope, lots of hope, and I am excited for the future.

"1Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted. 2Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. 3If anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself. 4Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else, 5for each one should carry his own load." Galatians 6:1-5

what I need? what my church needs?

Yesterday I was listening to a sermon I had downloaded to my iPod while cleaning my room. It was given by a man named Matt Chandler from the Village Church in Texas, near Dallas. In the final movement of his sermon, he asked the congregation if he could just say something--just rant for a moment. And he said this (or something like this):

"Women, how many more bible studies are we going to do? Can we maybe run some of the plays, instead of just studying them?

Men, how much you gonna study before you gonna play?

Everybody can talk it; nobody wants to engage anybody with it.... at least very few of us do. WHY?"

And these sentences, so simply and bluntly put, cut me to the heart. How many circles have I sat in and spoken about the call to mission work? How many times have I discussed prayer, and confessing to one another, and being open with one another? How many times have I spoken about how to live and how to teach others about Christ? And yet when have I actually put ANY of this into practice? Let me tell you I felt humbled and ashamed.

I encourage you. Go to iTunes. Go to the Village Church sermon podcast. Download the free sermon called "The Great Cause (Part 1): The Call to Mission," and if nothing else, listen to the last few minutes.

And it got me thinking about something I've been thinking about for some time now. My church here in Eau Claire, Messiah Lutheran, is calling a new pastor. Ever since we started calling, I've been trying to think about what I would tell someone considering the call to Eau Claire. What is Messiah Lutheran like? What type of shepherd does Messiah Lutheran need? What do the believers here need? And I think that in a few sentences this sermon put into words everything I've been feeling.

I think Messiah needs to be woken up. Woken up to the reality that the we are PHARISEES depending far too greatly on our superior knowledge of God's Word to preserve us. And just like the pharisees, we consider ourselves better than others--more pure than other Christians. Well you know what, we may have the knowledge, but we aren't doing much with it. Just like in that sermon above, how long will we study before we actually put that knowledge into play?

I realize that just because I am weak it doesn't mean that everyone is. I'm not saying that every single person at my church is falling into this trap. I'm sure there are those that are DOING things according to their faith and by the grace of God. I must just be missing it. And regardless, no one is perfect. Everyone can use a little (or a lot of) Law in their lives. Part of me doesn't want to offend, but then the rest of me thinks maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if I ruffled some feathers.

We need to be looked straight in the eye and hear "How many times will we continue to meet before we actually DO what we talk about?

How many times will the women of this congregation gather for Bible studies and meetings before they are ready to DO what they talk about?

How many times will the men of this congregation meet in Bible studies and meetings before they are ready to DO what they discuss?

How long will we hide behind our busy schedules? We put all our focus into serving a role on a committee but we don't know how to talk to one another about Christ.

Serving the church, whether through attending meetings or baking cookies, is all well and good. But how long before we turn to the Christian next to us and attend to their SPIRITUAL needs? How long before we admit to ourselves and to one another I AM BROKEN, I NEED CHRIST?

How long before we will PRAY with one another outside of church and outside of meal time? How long before we can CONFESS to one another? How long before we can WITNESS to one another? How long before we can ADMONISH one another? How long before we can step out of this church and DO the mission work we spend so many hours talking about?"

Almost every morning for the last few mornings I have started my day with the same song--"I'm Not Alright" by Sanctus Real. The chorus simply cries out, "I'm not alright. I'm broken inside, broken inside... That's why I need you." It is heartfelt and honest and genuine and it just makes me want to drop to my knees and cry out with the singer, "I'M NOT ALRIGHT!"

I don't know if this random jumble of thoughts makes any sense to anyone other than me, but somehow this describes what this young and naive young woman thinks her church needs (or at least what I need?). We need Christ (duh). We need to be humbled. We need a sense of urgency. We need honesty. We need a pastor who will say the uncomfortable things, that will be blunt and tell us what we need to hear and not what we want to hear... Someone that will help us CONFESS our sins to one another instead of doing our very best to hide them. Church should be the one place above all others that we can unload our burdens and admit our brokenness and wretchedness and be comforted and forgiven. But instead, it feels more like a beauty pageant where each week I get better and better at hiding the flaws.

And maybe I'm way off. Maybe this doesn't reflect anyone else. Anybody out there reading this--do I assume wrongly? Am I speaking out of place? I guess I can't and shouldn't speak for the whole church, but I can speak for myself when I say this:

I just need someone to look at me and ask me, "Danielle, what are YOU doing for the kingdom?" Because right now I don't have an answer for that question.

I'm just getting by, hoping no one will look to closely or ask me, so I can continue praising God with my words without actually having to DO anything.

God help me.

"Faith without deeds is dead." James 2:26

California, continued

Day 1. San Francisco with Ryan Grandparents and Mary Katherine

We spent the first two nights in San Francisco on Potrero Hill with Mary Katherine (my grandma's cousin who is basically like a third grandma to Emily and I). We told my grandparents and Mary Katherine that we simply wanted to be tourists in San Francisco and see whatever we could pack into one day. So on an exceptionally foggy Thursday, Zach and I...

• Rode a cable car
• Walked along Pier 39 to see the sea lions
• Drove to Fort Point, viewed the underside of the Golden Gate Bridge, and learned how to fire a cannon
• Drove down Lombard Street and ate at Mel's Diner
• Drove to the Cliff House and put our feet in the water
• Ate ice cream at Ghirardelli Square
• Drove through Golden Gate Park and Chinatown
• Drove to the top of Twin Peaks, where we could see absolutely nothing due to the fog

Beautiful day. San Francisco pictures were somehow separated from the rest--I'll post those to my album later.

Day 2. Santa Cruz with Brandon and Madeline

We spent Friday with Maddie and Brandon who took us to Waddell Beach to hike inland and see the Redwoods. We then ate a picnic lunch on the very windy beach and watched the kite surfers. After lunch we drove to the Boardwalk at Santa Cruz for a couple of rides and to put our feet in the freezing water. We finished the evening with In-n-Out Burger, animal style. =)


Day 3. Monterey

Zach and I attempted to enjoy a day to ourselves in Monterey. Unfortunately the rest of the world had the same idea and Monterey was busier than I've ever seen it. Our visit to the aquarium was shortened due to the crowds and abundance of strollers, so we drove along the coast and took the 17 Mile Drive.



Day 4. Mountain View & Sunnyvale with Drews Family

On Sunday morning we were able to go to St. Stephen Lutheran Church in Mountain View--the church I was raised at. I miss this church and it's open and warm atmosphere so much. There's something so refreshing and encouraging about services where people raise their hands with prayer requests and Bible classes where members admit that they are confused or uncertain. After a relaxing lunch and nap, Dan took us out to Shoreline Lake where we attempted to paddle boat for an hour.

The trip was short but it was good to get away. I'm mostly glad I had a chance to let Zach see where I grew up and to meet my family. Sorry, this post is kind of dry and feels like a PowerPoint, but that's about all I have to say for now. If you want to see more pictures, here's the link to my album:

2009: California Trip with Zach

foggy california

Zach and I returned at 5:45 Monday morning from a long weekend in Northern California. With only four full days to spend, we had to divide our time carefully among our friends and family: one day with my mom's family, one day with my dad's family, one day with friends, and one day for ourselves.

More pictures and stories to follow, I promise! Until then, enjoy this panorama.

Monterey, California
July 25, 2009

on theses and theories

I pause during the middle of a 24 hour paper writing cram session (6 pages down, 6 to go) to discuss another of life's simple joys.

There is something beautiful about the moment when, after searching through text after text, you find an author whose work says exactly what you want to say. They are just what you're looking for. You are totally on the same page. Their book will be the perfect source for your paper. It's a precious moment of affirmation, when you can breathe and say, "Yes! I knew my thesis wasn't that crazy. Look, this other person thought the same thing!"

And let's end this nerdy post here.

I can't believe how long of a hiatus I took from the blog world.

And it's not that I had nothing to say. Quite the reverse. I have been practically exploding with vents and rants and thinks and brilliant ideas (for sure). But for some reason, I haven't been able to write. And it's been incredibly frustrating.

So hopefully this means I'm back?

Since my last blog...

• Mom spent two weeks in the hospital waiting out double pneumonia, and I realize the true extent of my own wimpiness when I feel faint watching my mom get her blood pressure taken.
• Family vacation to Mexico is cancelled so mom can recover which allows me to help Zach direct the God's Kids Bible Camp coming up in July.
  Selfish shout out: If anyone out there is a lifeguard and wants to help at camp, please speak now or forever hold your peace--otherwise I'm signed up for lifeguard classes this weekend and next week so that we can have the needed amount of lifesavers at camp.
  Second selfish shout out: If you are a NURSE and you're reading this and want to help with camp, please also let me know. Sorry, I know, I'm shameless.
• Early American Autobiographies isn't as dreadful as I anticipated. I almost don't mind spending every weekday morning of my summer vacation in a classroom talking about dead Puritans.
• Most thrilling to me: I'm excited about the Church again (and yes, I mean the big Church and not any specific congregation). Over the past couple months I've felt like God reached down from heaven with soul CPR and gave my spirit a much needed jumpstart. I feel inspired by everything--I haven't felt this motivated toward Church work since high school. Praise God. I'm guessing I'll talk about that more later.

That's all for now. But I'll be back soon. I promise.

Until then, for all you nerds out there, enjoy this...

http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2008/02/3-year-old-expl/

hello world

Testing, 1, 2, 3, tesing. Check check.

 

Just testing out the new “email to blog post” function and seeing how I like it.

 

Today is beautifully dismal and melancholy. I love it. I only wish I was by a window so I could soak in the overall grayness outside instead of lost in a maze of computers and unbalanced students cramming before finals week.

 

Song for this dark gray day: Limousine by Brand New
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKg2b8glcpA

 

i'm feeling nostalgic again

I don't know why I'm sharing this now, or how this memory even came up after all these years, but here it is. The story of me.

When I think of life defining moments, I think of a single moment when I was only four years old. I remember three things about the setting: I was wearing gray San Francisco 49er sweatpants; I accompanying my parents on a camping trip with their scuba diving friends; we were eating abalone. I remember no other specifics, only that I either said something silly or did something ridiculous that provoked laughter from the adults around me, and in that moment I had a revelation. I realized fully, for the first time, that if I did something funny, I could make others laugh. It might sound a bit obvious, but for some reason I can specifically remember the exact moment this all clicked into place in my young and impressionable mind.  I felt as if I had been given a rare power to affect others and the possibilities were endless. I’m quite sure I spent the rest of the evening making an utter fool out of myself, begging for attention and trying to summon more laughter until my mom scolded me for being obnoxious. But it was too late for me. That single moment set the stage for who I am today—a self-conscious girl obsessed with the reactions of everyone around me. I aim to amuse, to impress, to entertain, to affect anyone listening, and my words and actions are often calculated for those purposes. I try very hard, perhaps too hard, to be funny, sometimes at the expense of others, and often at my own expense.  I analyze every reaction to my comments—did they laugh? Were they just being polite? Do they think I’m an idiot? Did I say the right thing? What can I say next to make them laugh? The questioning never stops. Who knew such a simple moment so long ago could have such consequences?

 

“We are each […] unwilling to speak unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room.”

-       Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice

I'd stalk you if you were still alive

I wish Roald Dahl was still alive. I'd definitely follow his blogs, and his updates on Twitter. He seems like a funny guy. That's all I have to say right now.

Song of the day: Dry the Rain by the Beta Band. "It'll be alright, it'll be alright..."

cheers

Exactly one year ago today I was sitting next to Jenny in a little Irish pub in Wittenberg, Germany, sipping a Guinness to celebrate the holiday. 

Tonight I'm at home in pajamas drinking a Foster's and watching Woody Allen's Crimes & Misdemeanors.

Cheers to Jenny and Luke, whom I love very much, on finally getting engaged. =)

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

story time

Here it is, the India story I just wrote for an assignment that I referenced in a previous post. It's a bit long and a bit crude in some places, sorry, but I feel like posting it anyways... Why not.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I never thought the act of taking a good crap was a luxury until that afternoon I found myself jonesing for a decent toilet seat in the middle of a rice patty in India.

We had been traveling across Andrah Pradesh in southern India for three weeks—six grown men and two young women, both of us named Danielle, hugging our elbows and knees in a small SUV that was intended to fit only four comfortably. Even with our eight adults and ten suitcases we felt like we were squandering resources as we passed motorcycles carrying families of four, and rickshaws with twelve Indians hanging out the sides, a goat in the lap of the driver, and a crate of six dozen eggs strapped precariously to the back.

This was our last night of teaching Bible stories. The next day we would climb into that once white SUV and make the six-hour drive to Chennai where we would spend our last two nights in India before boarding the plane back to the States. For this final session, our Indian driver and translator had driven our group two hours outside of the city of Vanyambadi to a small farming community. We pulled in to the center of their village to find all sixty or so locals waiting for us. All the buildings of the village were contained within a fifty yard square and in the center was a small open area of hard packed earth, fringed by palm trees, where they had gathered all of the children together. At the narrow end of this rectangle of open space was a row of seven bright blue plastic chairs—one for each of us six sweaty and pasty Americans and one for our Indian translator. The driver would wait with his car.

We took our seats humbly, having learned by now that they would accept nothing less than our being seated while they either stood or sat on the ground to listen. This special treatment was perhaps the most unpleasant aspect about my time in India. I didn’t like being treated like the soft and spoiled American I knew I was. The children sat cross-legged in the dirt immediately in front of us, packed together with their elbows overlapping and their dark eyes wide with awe. They giggled nervously when we smiled at them, and blushed uncontrollably and grabbed each other’s arms with glee when we winked at them. When a camera was revealed, chaos ensued, each child determined to be in the frame.

After an introduction from the local pastor, we began our lessons. Rick taught the story of creation, Danielle #1 followed with the story of Jesus and the ten lepers, Lee taught the story of Easter, and I finished with the resurrection and the promise of heaven.

After an hour of sitting and listening to the others speak, I suddenly became uncomfortable.

The Indian diet was taking its toll on all of us. Twenty plus days of nothing but vegetable fried rice, naan bread, bananas, and mangoes will have plenty of effects, but constipation is definitely not one of them. We were popping Pepto-Bismol pills like they were candy, and after one uneasy morning, we scoured the fine print and were relieved to find that waking up with a black tongue is one of the normal side effects of such consumption. We spent the long car rides wishing for things we had never thought to wish for—being able to drink straight out of the tap, showering with a real showerhead and not the bucket of water and a cup we were given each morning, and being able to pass gas with confidence instead of worrying that you were instead—well, I’ll stop there. The point is, consistent and reliable bowel movements had become a privilege, and the need to “go” was no longer something that could be avoided with careful planning or even self-control.

Behind all of the children and adults I saw a small building that looked indicative of the standard Indian outhouse, and I quietly excused myself and walked along the outside of the packed crowd toward the building. I opened the door, and much to my dismay the dark room consisted of a flat cement floor with various bowls and cups stacked in the corner and one large tub filled with water. In the center of the floor was a small round hole that looked like the destination hole in a game of mini golf. Although I hadn’t seen this specific style of restroom yet, I had heard that it was fairly standard—one would relieve themself on the cement floor and then throw water across the surface to wash everything down the small drain hole. I took one look at that hole and decided I sure as heck was not going to try to go #2 down it.

As I stood in the doorway pondering my future, a young Indian woman came up behind me and began asking me questions in Telegu. I shook my head apologetically to indicate I had no idea what she was trying to communicate.

“Toilet?” I asked tentatively.

She nodded in recognition and pointed at the hole, “Toilet.”

I sighed and said again, this time with raised eyebrows and a hint of panic, “No, toilet.”

Her eye widened and her head bobbed from side to side in the typical Indian method of affirmation. She turned and walked a few steps further away from the crowd, then beckoned me to follow her. As she led me toward the huts, another young woman with a baby on her hip joined us. The first woman spoke rapidly and the second woman glanced over at me and bobbed her head as well, “Aaah, toilet.” I was a novelty and she wanted a part in my rescue.

They lead me through a dozen small houses until we came to the home of the first woman. She gestured for me to wait and hurried inside. I stood awkwardly while the second woman rocked her baby and stared at me. She couldn’t have been much older than me. Her nose was pierced with a gold flower and her rough, dark hair was pulled back tightly into a low braid. The first woman soon emerged from the house with a large bowl of water and a cup and beckoned once again for me to follow her.

They led me with purposeful steps through the simple clay buildings and roaming chickens and goats grazing on discarded items. I followed, two paces behind, my conspicuous Teva sandles tracing the path their small bare feet left. Their backs were lean and the mother’s arm that carried the baby was strong from the extra weight. Their long braids brushed against their purple and orange saris and swayed with each step, bridging the stretch of dark skin between the skirt and bodice sections of their saris. The baby continued to stare at me from over her mother’s shoulder, her fist in her mouth and the whites of her eyes a stark contrast against the deep brown pupils and skin. Her ears were pierced and she wore an oversized shirt.

I became convinced that baby was smirking at me, and I felt even more awkward in my pale yellow cotton tee and long teal skirt with elastic waistband my mother had helped me sew. I traipsed behind, self-conscious of the sweat sliding down the front of my neck, of my thin and frayed dirt colored hair, of my pretentious sandals, of my bulky clothes, of my soft white gut under my thick cotton shirt, and of my overall naivety in this foreign country. And I just knew that baby was staring at me, thinking, Oh you silly tourist, you don’t even know how to shit without our help.

All buildings behind us now, I became concerned that the women hadn’t truly understood my needs. By now my situation was becoming urgent and I was becoming impatient, but we continued to walk. We walked along the edges of the rice patty until we found a narrow dirt path that navigated straight through the vegetation. We followed the path for another hundred yards until we reached a small growth of shrubs and two gnarled trees clustered together in the center of the expansive field. The first woman finally halted in front of me and with a very matter-of-fact tone, handed me the bucket of water with the cup floating inside, stepped a few paces away, turned around, and began conversing fluently with the other woman, their backs toward me.

So there I was, a girl from Wisconsin wearing a long homemade skirt, squatting in the middle of a field in India, a bowl of water in my hands and two strangers and a baby not ten feet away from me, thanking heaven for the toilet paper I kept folded in my waistband.

When I had finished, I straightened up and walked back to the women. They turned and smiled shyly at me, and I grinned back. On the way back to the village I walked alongside the women, a strange satisfaction and pride running through me. They giggled at my chewing gum and I laughed with them, not minding, savoring these few rare moments I felt like I had deserved throwing off the label of tourist.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

follow up to "stuff"

This morning I walked into the bathroom near our offices and noticed that some kind soul had left a small bottle of Cucumber and Green Tea Linen and Room Spray on the edge of the sink.

Sharpied up and down the sides is "For Old Library Ladies Bathroom."

Whoever left that there... I love you.

P.S. I appreciated the bathroom related comments my original post evoked. I'm glad I'm not alone.

this made my day

Happy Monday.

I woke up late, got to work late, got to class late... but in 23 seconds this video instantly brightened my whole day. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHXj3qgFs_k&eurl=http://failblog.org/page/3/&feature=player_embedded

stuff

It's been a rough couple of weeks in the blog world. Not only has my brain gone numb, but every other blog I follow has been on creative overdrive. Congrats to every one else scoring home runs while I'm on the bleachers looking clueless. My problem isn't necessarily having nothing to write about, I just don't really have anything lovely to write about. I have no photos to upload, no crafts to display, no progress to speak of in any department. I've just got nothing in the inspiring category to say. I want to write about everything else. I don't want to dress it up, I don't want to make it pretty, I just want to blurt out the random loose-ends of ideas wrestling about in my head.

Somedays the bathroom closest to my office reeks like fish. Sometimes the ventilation just doesn't work in there, and throughout the day it gets more and more humid. One time, I walked in and the heavy, moist air smelled so strongly of salty, fishy, crappiness that I could actually taste it on my tongue. I almost gagged. Oh, and while were on the subject, today I turned in a story for my creative writing class about this one time I had to go #2 out in the middle of a field in a village in India. One of my finest moments, I know. And I am so sick of the Jonas Brothers. I know nothing about them, I don't even know a single song they sing, but I still dislike them. Today was one of those days I really wanted to go through seminary--not to be a pastor, just to learn everything I can. I finally bought Master & Commander this past weekend, watched it, and really want to watch it again. I just do not get sick of that movie. Why haven't more people seen it? I love it. I have spent the last hour trying to write a paper on technology and the pros and cons society faces by accepting all advances wholeheartedly, and all I have written on my page is, "Technology duh duh duh." Brilliant. I will surely win an award for this masterpiece.

All the blogs I read are so witty and cutesy, I just can't keep up. And it seems all I know how to write about is crap, literally. So here you go. 

creepy

Oh creepy creepiness.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QO2OocOVcJo

back to the books

Welcome back to school. Yipee. And I realize it doesn’t exactly come through in the typed format, but my tone was intended to be a bit sarcastic there. Laura and I were just commenting that this time last year we were packing for Europe, so forgive me if I’m not bouncing off the walls with excitement at the prospect of three more months of winter and school. =)

Last week I was complaining to Zach about how unprepared I felt for this semester and how much I was dreading it. He simply said, "I wouldn't worry too much about it. When you go and get your books you'll be all excited again."

And sure enough, he was right. As much as I hated standing in line at the bookstore for an hour yesterday to drop $180 on new textbooks, I couldn't help myself--I got a little chill of excitement about what I would be learning this semester. That cranky, pessimistic side of me couldn't quite shut up the ridiculous nerd in me.

School brings out the best and worst in me. One moment I'll be practically singing about how much I love analyzing short stories, and the next I'll be vehemently ranting about the stupid inconsistency of my Philosophy professor. I can spend the morning filled with enthusiasm and passion for life, and by mid-afternoon be going out of my way to criticise everything in my path while suffering from a caffeine induced headache. As my sleep decreases, my range of emotions increases--a very unforunate fact for those that have to suffer through my company throughout the week.

So for those of you who have the lovely pleasure of hearing me occasionally vent through my frustrations or gush with excitement (because I believe both are equally painful), I apologize. You are saints. Absolute stars.

the most wonderful time of the year

The next Eau Claire public library's book sale is next weekend, and I can't wait. Library book sales are truly AWESOME events.

I have been buying books since I was old enough to spend money. Every Sunday on the way home from church I would beg my parents to stop at Borders, and if we did stop, I almost always left with a purchase. Every year for my birthday I would ask for the same thing from my grandparents: gift cards to Borders. I didn't want clothes, I didn't want toys, I didn't want anything fancy (except perhaps the latest Oregon Trail computer game), I just wanted the next book in the Redwall series or one of the few Roald Dahl books I was still missing. Yes I know--total nerd. But I love it.

And even though I've accumulated more books than I have space for or time for, I can't help feeling called to buy more. After all, it's for a good cause, right? Supporting the library? I just want to give those books a good home... is that so wrong? =)

I wonder if the library will let the money I spend at the book sale go toward paying off my current account balance of $22.70 in unpaid fines and bills...

p.s. two more things

1. I do not know why the colors are reversed in that image below. Weird.
2. There will be no blog entries next week, because I will be away from the internet until further notice (about a week or so).

Best/Worst of 2008 - Cinematic Special

I'm still not done processing 2008, so if you'll allow a few more blog entries to reminisce over the year that just ended, I'd be very appreciative.

Note: When I say "best" or "worst," please automatically substitute "in my own opinion, which is often wrong, I considered this the best or worst, or I enjoyed this the most or least." Thanks.

Best movies >> I saw 25 of the 281 films released in 2008 (list taken from the eligible films of 2008 list found on the Academy Awards page). Of those 25, these were my favorites.

• SON OF RAMBOW
• WALL-E
• THE DARK KNIGHT
• BE KIND REWIND
• FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL
• PINEAPPLE EXPRESS
• IRON MAN
• DOUBT
• IN BRUGES** (could not finish, but I really liked the first half)

Worst >> There weren't really too many movies I hated. Although, if I had to pick the two that annoyed me the most, it'd have to be GET SMART and DEFINITELY, MAYBE

Biggest Disappointments >> AUSTRALIA

Movies I Regret Not Seeing (or not being able to see, thanks to Eau Claire theatres) >>

• SYNECDOCHE, NEW YORK
• THE WRESTLER
• RACHEL GETTING MARRIED
• SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE (but hey, this is coming to London Theatres on January 23!)
• HAPPY-GO-LUCKY
• FROST/NIXON
• GHOST TOWN
• MILK
• HUNGER
• THE READER

Anything I missed? Any challenges?

auld lang syne

Well look at that, it's 2009. Hooray for us.

In order to hold myself more accountable, my goals this year will be clear and concise. Rather than the vague 'let's do more of this or that' I want some specific, measurable things I can work toward. So, at the risk of embarrassing myself again, here I go...

1. Wear my retainer at least one day per week.
2. Write a journal entry at least once per week. I used to write all the time as a kid, and my journals from my childhood are probably some of my most valued possessions. I don't like the fact that over the past few years, I've really slacked off and have little record of what I was up to or, more importantly, how I was feeling.
3. Write a blog entry at least once a week. My motivation for this resolution is similar to my reasons for keeping a journal. However, because there is the possibility of others reading my blog entries, I do write in a more self-conscious manner and pay closer attention to elements like wording and tone. If I do want to be a real writer some day, it's good for me to practice as often as possible. =)
4. Spend at least a solid ten minutes a day in devotion with God. This means praying, reading the Bible, etc. How sad it is that I have to try so hard to make this happen, and that I fail so often.

So, there they are, my "resolutions" for this year. =) We'll see what happens...