michelle talks

the grass is greener on the other side

2011-11-26T23:06:00.000-08:00

you always want what you can't have

you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone

and every other cliché in the book that reiterates the same message:

it's not fill-in-the-blank; it's you!

I'm scared. I'm so so scared.

ummmMMMmmm

2011-07-06T02:37:00.000-07:00

I can be really mean in my head.

Really mean.

I don't really know what it's coming from. I haven't been wronged. On the contrary, I've just been treated nicely.

I think at the first sign of clinginess or neediness I do this emotional recoil, not unlike how I would react to spotting a daddy-long-legs behind my bed.

Which is dumb - because who do I think I am?

But really. I'm so mean in my head.

And the thing is, I'm not sure that's so different from just being...mean.

too late for filters

2011-07-03T03:02:00.000-07:00

Is it totally presumptuous of me to believe I would be different were I around more single people?

I've honestly never felt more in want (want. not need.) in my life, and frankly it's disgusting me.

Don't get me wrong, I am super happy for the 20-ish (legitly) couples I'm surrounded by, but damn I wish it didn't have this ridiculous effect on me.

Yeah, I said damn.

Feels weird writing it.

Actually it feels pretty weird in my head now that I think about it. Like something Natalie Portman or some other person entirely separate from me would say. And it would sound pretty cool.

This is a blogpost at 3am.

Blah

blahblah

blah

I should go to sleep before I write anything else I'll regret.

GOOD NITe.

deconstructive criticism

2011-05-17T16:52:00.000-07:00

The peer response is both my favorite and least favorite component of writing workshops. Favorite because they're necessary and almost always helpful. Least favorite because 1. they're tedious to write and 2. once in a while you come across someone like this:

Hi Michelle,

Your piece about your early memories was quite interesting. I thought that the fact that you chose to write about two very defining memories which were connected through scissors could be a very effective piece, especially given the fact that you seem to experience the same feelings of loss and regret regarding your choices with trying to be more feminine when you're dealing with cut hair.

However, your piece is very bland; you seem to take great delight in telling me how you feel. That combined with your first paragraph about scissors meant that I spent your entire piece waiting for you to whip out a pair of scissors and start cutting things. However, at the same time, you didn't build up the suspense very effectively. Your voice comes off as monotone, even when you're talking about feeling "richer and happier than I ever remembered feeling." Because you have a lot of repetition and lists, you have a lot of opportunity to build up suspense or humor. With lists, you have a great opportunity to escalate. However, when you're talking about your birthday gifts, you talk about a "Lion King confetti tumbler, light-up shoes, and number 2 pencils, along with a stationery set, stickers, a Simba plush doll, and the biggest surprise, a mini indoor tent." However, it's clear from the rest of the piece that your favorite gift out of this is the Simba doll. So why is it in the middle, in a place of little importance? And why is your "biggest surprise" no longer mentioned in the the entire story? It's parts like these that detract from your story. If you simply had the items escalate from mediocre gifts to more personal and important, then you'd create a sensation of growing intimacy. On the other hand, if you described more and more intimate gifts and ended with, "and number 2 pencils," you create a humorous situation. Your entire piece is full of places where you could be just a tad more humorous, more intimate with your reader, and doing so would make your piece interesting.

In conclusion, your piece is also not very clear in terms of plot and theme. You have two very separate vignettes that could be very interesting together, but you don't fully connect them despite originally stating that you would do so in your original paragraph. From a structure point of view, it's very much lacking in that aspect, and if you could simply connect them, your piece would be much stronger.

Sincerely,
Rebecca

Hm.

Hi Rebecca,

Your response to my piece was quite interesting. I thought that the fact that you [tactlessly] hand out brutally honest commentary on everyone's papers could make for a very effective letter, especially given that you talk unceasingly in class, have offensively strong opinions, and are a good writer whom I have no choice but to respect.

However, your response is very pissy; you seem to take great delight in telling me how you feel. Your first comments on my paper (". . . k . . .", "o . k . ?", "yes, I get it") ~~made me want to strip that fine green gel ink off the page and wrap it around your neck~~ are wholly unnecessary and do not in any way serve to help me become a more effective writer. I understand that you are being honest and transparent, and that overly sugarcoated responses can be just as useless and insulting, but your impulsive mental reactions penned in beside my sentences frankly have nothing to do with my improvement. You do not even mention these o . k .'ed parts in your letter, so why waste that ink on my paper? Do these ellipses serve any purpose at all apart from demoralizing the writer? You are clearly unaware of the meaning of "constructive criticism."

Also, it is worth pointing out that, just like me, you are yet an undergraduate, highly inexperienced, unfortunately biased literature major. Granted, you may be more outspoken, more talented, more proficient in chemistry than I am, but according to that truth, your opinions about what constitutes buildup or humor are just that - opinions, not fact. Perhaps if you were my writing professor your words would carry more validity, but even Professor Frielicher wrote a "nicer" (albeit honest), more specific, more relevant critique than you did. Your entire letter is full of places where you could be just a tad more humble, more empathetic with your reader, more intentional, and doing so would make your letter useful.

In conclusion, (by the way, "in conclusion" is typically used in wrapping up your previously stated arguments, not to introduce new ones; aka using the word "also"), you have potential to be an extremely helpful peer but you apparently have no idea of how to conduct yourself in a socially polite, respectful manner. [Oops, did I say you had potential? I meant to model my letter after yours and not include a single positive thing.] From a personal point of view, you're very much lacking in that aspect, and if you could simply fix that about yourself, you would be much more bearable.

Sincerely,

Michelle

* The above picture has absolutely nothing to do with this and solely exists to add some positivity to a post otherwise dripping with negativity

reminiscing

2011-05-17T01:45:00.000-07:00

is painful. Joyful sometimes, but mostly painful because the very fact that you’re reminiscing means that something is no more.

I’m incredibly thankful and blessed to have had some amazing, hilarious, unforgettable experiences in the last few years, humble though they may seem to you - late night “studying”, routine “sleepovers”, hours of conversation, everyday/night shenanigans, one-of-a-kind relationship dynamics. Honestly; I’m talking about times where even when I was IN them I almost consciously felt like, “Wow, I’m SO happy. This is SO funny. This is SO precious. This is a memory in the making. I’m going to remember this forever.”

Moments I allowed myself to savor, when I wasn’t too busy just experiencing them.

I don’t know if I can say I’ve had many of those moments this year; just a lot of recalling, remembering, reminiscing. With a lot of laughter and the quickly accompanying sigh.

Don’t get me wrong. I do get sad but mostly my heart can’t stop smiling whenever I allow my thoughts to travel to these things/people. I really can’t. Whether or not they can be relived, I treasure them and really think they’re gifts from God one way or another.

bleh

meh

weh

heh

Yes, I’m really very lucky.

And you know, God knows. And he will provide. And he has been and is providing. And I realize my post stops making sense here but it makes sense to me so whateva.

Thanks God for your gifts - manifested in people, relationships, love, laughter, lessons - filled with so much good my heart can explode just thinking of them even if some are only memories now. You are sovereign. You are good.

plastic

2011-05-06T02:51:00.000-07:00

“Just because she has to wear this now, doesn’t mean she’s any different.”

My sixth-grade classmates were sitting down on the tacky multicolored carpet, cross-legged and slouched. Some were staring blankly at the wall, others at a poster with diagrams and pie charts labeled “SCOLIOSIS.” Still others seemed fixated on a curious white plastic object placed on a chair in front of the room. Mrs. Shell continued.

“For example, if I broke my arm and had to wear a cast, you wouldn’t treat me any differently, right? Michelle might have to wear this brace now, but she’s still very much the same.” Her eyes glossed over mine, kind and reassuring. I shrunk in my seat, surprisingly a little embarrassed from all the attention. My teacher’s words echoed in my ears: I’m not different. I wanted so much to believe them, but a sinking feeling in my stomach told me that somehow, wearing a white plastic body brace under my clothes, missing P.E., and needing a friend to help me in the bathroom couldn’t be more unusual.

At that moment I was distracted by a commotion of hands - everyone had started passing it around to, in Mrs. Shell’s words, “get a feel” for this utterly foreign object that would be an inescapable part of my life for the next six years. Whispers clouded the room, with the occasional “Whoaaa” or “Cool!” Disturbed as I was by the idea that wearing a bulky plastic brace for scoliosis could be called such things, I was grateful for the response. Surely intrigue was better than indifference.

* * *

My sister was diagnosed with scoliosis when she was in the 8th grade. The subtle curve in her spine was mild enough to escape the mandatory school screening the year before, but she had the “good fortune” of discovering her condition a year later during a routine physical exam. The typical curve angle that requires one to be prescribed with a corrective back brace is 20 degrees. Hers was 37. I still remember walking down the hallway to the bathroom that night, interrupted by the eerie sound of my sister crying. I peeked in to see her squatting on her bed, staring at this awkwardly large contraption at the other end. There was an amalgam of feelings in that look – among them disbelief, indignation, loathing, fear. She stopped crying, and started laughing. Then started crying again. I was just a confused onlooker then - it was ridiculous, really, to think that this behemoth of plastic and styrofoam was actually meant to be worn. I couldn’t help but laugh with her.

It was this ordeal that led my mom to take me along on my sister’s next checkup. She had already felt responsible for the severity of my sister’s condition, and wanted to make sure that if something was wrong with me, too, it didn’t escape under the radar. That was the day, at nine years old, that I found out I had a spinal curve of 19 degrees – all but in numbers enough to prescribe me with a brace. Without thinking, fresh images of my sister laughing and crying and crying and laughing surfaced, and so did my tears.

* * *

It was a Wednesday, but to me it was a dreaded Loren day. Scheduled once every four months, “Loren day” was my mom’s euphemism for my appointment with Loren Rojek. It’s not that he himself was unbearable. For the record, Loren was tall, unassuming, and handsome. He had gentle, deep brown eyes that made you feel you could trust him, and he greeted every patient like a long lost cousin. Loren was a certified prosthetist orthotist - in other words, he cut, fit, measured and adjusted my brace to make me as comfortable as one could be when confined in a piece of hard plastic. The reason why I so dreaded these appointments with the pleasant man was because, more than anything, it reminded me of how blatantly different I was forced to be. Even if the adjustments were for the better, there was nothing like a good brace-fitting session to remind me that, while my classmates wore tight hipster jeans, mini skirts, and midriff-baring tank tops, I had to stick to clothes one size too big in an attempt to hide the Quasimoto-esque hump on my back revealed at the slightest slouch. As if I weren’t awkward enough, underneath my brace my body was petite, gangly, and frustratingly undeveloped, and I hadn’t gone through my growth spurt yet. The key to curbing scoliosis with a brace is maximizing correction before one’s growth is completed, as the spine then hardens and will ideally become permanently static. For girls, this usually means about one and a half years after they start their menstruation. I was in the tenth grade, and I didn’t start yet.

“Kyungha, are you crying?”

My mom was driving down the 57 freeway, nervously checking up on me in the rearview mirror. I must have been a sad sight. Lost in my own pity party, head leaned against the window, I stared blankly out at the passing cars. Almost on cue at what I mistook for an acknowledgment of my pain, a fresh batch of tears threatened to flood my eyes.

“Do you know how blessed we are? How lucky you are that this brace even works for you?”

A two in three chance, something like that. Big deal. Surely the chances of not having scoliosis at all were greater.

“Don’t you remember Lucy?”

Of course I remembered Lucy. We met her at a scoliosis forum at the hospital, where we found out her scoliosis had so relentlessly worsened (despite orthotic treatment) that her stomach, crushed underneath her contorted spine, now became helplessly full from a single banana. But feeling sorry for someone else at the moment was out of the question, and my tears of misery quickly became hot and bitter. Couldn’t we focus a little on my own present misfortune, mini-skirt-less and all?

* * *

“Hey Varsity, help roll up the mats!”

After a grueling last minute practice of trying to stuff as much new choreography into our heads, fifteen

cheerleaders scrambled to flip over the dusty blue stunting mats and put them away. Usually tedious and replete with resentment as the same five people always seemed to be doing the work, today the task was attended to with renewed vigor; I was elated. The news I had been waiting on my toes for all week was finally out –I was going to be captain! My lips involuntarily curled in sheer delight at the idea. My mind couldn’t be further from grungy blue mats, not when there were summer practices, conditioning, competitions, sleepovers, infraction sheets, captain meetings to think about! My vision of the perfect senior class routine was interrupted only by the chime of the untimely school bell, at which I somewhat managed to return to earth and hastily put on my brace. Little more than a nuisance now, I distractedly strapped it back on and tightened its three Velcro straps, pulled on my favorite pair of jeans, and grabbed my A.P. U.S. History book.

“Varsity! Black polo and skirt tomorrow, don’t be late!”

Soon I would be calling the shots. I could hardly breathe, and yet I was sure that had nothing to do with Velcro.

* * *

I had just finished emptying the last bag of old Halloween candy into a glass dish on the hallway mirror table. Imagining the texture of stale Tootsie Rolls and unwanted root beer candy, I cringed slightly; it was no wonder our neighborhood wasn’t too popular with trick-or-treaters. I chuckled at the thought of the toothy teenagers who came around last year with their empty pillowcases – my mom wouldn’t have a problem being generous with the goods this time around.

Halloween was never big in my family. Other than the bowl of mysteriously old candy we put out each year, and the recycled Halloween costumes which I usually took off for my church’s alternative event for the night (consisting of carnival games, a celebration of Martin Luther’s 95 Theses, and enough candy to make up for skipping trick-or-treating), it was just another day that came and went. This year, however, was an anomaly to those forgettable Halloweens past. This year, I had only a costume to put on. It might have been made of recycled material, but apart from that it had little in common with the costumes I was familiar with. In a way, it was my most luxurious one yet: custom fit and molded to my body, it covered the top of my torso to my pelvic bone in the front, and curved in the back to span across the bottom of my shoulder blades to the middle of my rear. There was a gap in the back that allowed my body to squirm in, bridged by three white Velcro straps attached with shiny metal buckles. Wearing it, I resembled a white Terminator, or a prototype human-robot hybrid of sorts. The image was so comical I would have laughed in spite of myself if it weren’t for one looming piece of reality - that, despite its resemblance to one, this wasn’t a costume. It was my brand-new brace, bestowed upon me by the crippling symptoms of scoliosis, an “abnormal lateral curvature of the spine” I had been diagnosed with two years ago. I didn’t even know how long I was to be strapped to the thing but for the doctor’s depressingly vague words – “when you stop growing.” As I continued to stare at my rigid, custom-made fate, I recalled a familiar image. Would I be crying at my misfortune or laughing at the peculiarity of such a shot-by-shot replay of events, grateful that I at least had someone who could empathize?

Tomorrow my sixteen-year-old sister was going to visit my class and talk about this thing called scoliosis, determined to ensure I wouldn’t suffer the same torturous fear and embarrassment she did from feeling so misunderstood. However dubious I was that this would make my situation less mortifying, she had already spent her time meticulously arranging data charts, facts, and graphs onto a neat little poster board and I felt rude to interrupt. In a way, her confidence in a better experience for her sister lit in me the slightest flicker of hope, hope that it wouldn’t be so bad. Just until I stop growing.

I looked up at the mirror once more and with a straight face did the best robot dance I could, laughing and hoping a sense of humor made time pass faster.

my name is judy

2011-05-05T23:07:00.000-07:00

Judge. Judge. Judge. Judge.

That's all I do. All day long.

"Dude, calm down"

"Stop letting it get to your head"

"Stop craving so much attention"

"Stop complaining"

"Stop judging him/her" (lol)

"Stop creepin' on every girl in sight dude chillax"

"Stop judging me for judging you wth" (lol)

"Stop judging me" (lol)

But then -

I can't look at any one of these things without thinking of myself.

ugh.

Also, sometimes I wish we (myself included) could see members of the opposite gender in the church/parachurch as brothers and sisters FIRST, then as "potential" boys and girls. It should be a good thing that one can find their spouse in the church rather than say, at parties or a bar, but gad. It's not a freakin' hunting zone, people [Michelle].

This just further proves that we were originally meant to be married and having children at this age, but Sin and society and culture have twisted God's original design, holding us in this awkward stage of waiting and fighting with our lusts and hormones and desires to love and be loved. 'Namean?

What happened to falling in love with God, first [Michelle]?

about me

2011-05-02T03:42:00.001-07:00

My name is Michelle, and I'm hungry.

No, I am starving.

I am pathetic.

I am lonely.

I am desperate.

I scrape through pictures, notes, comments, old letters, memories, words, ideas, movies, friends, maybe's, whatif's, mirrors, faces

for assurance

for self-worth

for identity

for security

for love.

But I can only get my hands on crumbs.

At best, measly

worthless

crumbs.

And they're not enough.

Because I'm still starving.

pathetic.

lonely.

desperate.

More than you could imagine.

I need the real thing.

I need help.

I need Jesus.

in a few hours

2011-04-23T00:42:00.001-07:00

everything will be different.

But different can be good.

currently

2011-04-19T22:21:00.001-07:00

studying for my human nutrition midterm, and feeling

quite un-nutritious.

Might have to do with the really, really strained, already unbuttoned waistline (bad day to wear jeans). Or the five tacos consumed earlier along with baskets of free chips and salsa. Or the chocolate covered berries I know I'm about to eat as soon as I get the midterm munchies.

Still having trouble learning exactly what it means to glorify God with my body, even with the food that enters my mouth, and yet being satisfied with the body he's given me. I know that a lot of the struggle is due to my own laziness, gluttony, apathy, and greed, all character traits that are definitely not pleasing to God no matter how physically fit or unfit I may be. But some of the struggle also comes from being wrapped up in the lies of the world and of Satan - the occasional whispers that I'm not good enough or pretty enough or skinny enough, and never will be.

Where does one draw the line?

come ye sinners

2011-04-19T12:50:00.000-07:00

A song by Indelible Grace; Verses 3 and 4:

Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
Bruised and broken by the fall;
If you tarry 'til you're better,
You will never come at all.
Not the righteous, not the righteous;
Sinners Jesus came to call.

Let not conscience make you linger,
Nor of fitness fondly dream;
All the fitness He requires
Is to feel your need of Him.
This He gives you, this He gives you,
'Tis the Spirit's rising beam.

I'm having trouble solving this math equation

2011-04-18T14:57:00.000-07:00

Someone help, please?

Solve for i:

9x-7i > 3(3x-7u)

ltwr 120: personal narrative

2011-04-08T15:11:00.000-07:00

The Rapier of the Lock

I remember sitting on the cold white plastic of the bathroom sink, my short legs dangling from the edge and swinging impatiently. Across from the basin on my right, there was a mirrored cupboard from which my mom would take out an ever-elusive yellow pouch. It must have been kept on the very top shelf, or else somewhere very secret, because I remember opening this cupboard a number of times in search of it only to find that it was nowhere to be seen. Yet whenever my mom opened this, her 5’2’’ frame entirely covering the mysterious process involved in its retrieval, there it was in her hand, just like that.

Inside this yellow pouch was the most wonderful pair of scissors. It was gleaming and silver, with long pointy blades. It was wonderful because it was nearly like the one my school teacher had – the enviable, sharp, black-handled scissors she used for crafts, cutting her construction paper with ease while we attempted to figure out how to do so using the blunted, rounded rubber pairs we were given. Except this was even better. One of the circular holes, the one for the thumb, had a little curved rod coming out from it so that it resembled the letter Q. It was always kept spotlessly clean, so that the incandescent bathroom lights gave off a white, sinister, magnificent glow on its dangerously sharp blades. And they were sharp, even sharper than my teacher’s black-handled scissors. These were special scissors. They were scissors for cutting hair.

Maybe it was the fashion for five-year-olds then, or maybe it was convenient, or maybe –emphasis on maybe – I just liked it, but in those days I always sported a bowl cut, not only the straight-across bangs on my forehead but the real deal (had I not been in dresses and stockings most of the time, I would have very likely been mistaken for a boy). Whenever my slightly crooked bangs started to interfere with my blinking, my mom would sit me on the bathroom sink and take the scissors out. Then she would cut my hair.

First she would use her fingers as imaginary scissors, leaning back and sticking out her bottom lip a little as she gauged how much needed to be cut. Then, holding those fingers in place, she’d get the real thing and press it against my forehead. The metal cold of the stainless steel blade triggered tingling sensations as it moved slowly across my forehead. Snip. Snip. As I saw small locks of brown hair fall promptly into the sink, I wished with all my heart for those scissors. I was determined to cut hair when I grew up, to be a salon-woman.

It was during this fascination with scissors and cutting things that I was practicing to be a flower girl. My first grade Sunday School teacher had a younger sister who was getting married, and had asked me to have the honor of walking down the aisle before her. Needless to say, I was thrilled. I was sure it was every girl’s dream to become a flower girl – at least, it was mine – and wear a pretty dress and throw pretty petals on the pretty ground and try not to let out a coy smile as everyone you pass by “oohs” and “aahs” about how pretty you are. Even when I hated being constricted in itchy stockings and fancy dress shoes, curses of my gender, I was looking forward to this day that everyone would have to agree I was adorable.

Because of this important task I had to undertake, my mom had been foregoing my regular haircuts for the sake of letting it grow as long as possible. A flower girl just couldn’t have a bowl cut. And so for the first time, I experienced hair that went beyond the nape of my neck and, nearing the wedding, it had just about passed the grazing of my shoulders.

I was playing in my sister’s room– what exactly I was doing I forget, but I used to slip in there often mostly for the exhilaration that I was somewhere I ought not to be – and had somehow discovered a pair of small, purple-handled scissors on her desk (I am sure now that I must have found them in her room because at the present I can’t believe that my mom would have been so careless as to ever leave a pair in mine). I had been playing with it, and inevitably reminded of my wish to be a hairdresser.

I held the scissors in my hand, imagining how much more satisfying it must be to cut locks of hair than pieces of white paper in two. Then something dawned on me, an illuminating epiphany – why couldn’t I? I had the scissors in my hand. I wasn’t sure how many times sharper the shears in the yellow pouch were than these, but I was sure they were good enough. Surely sharp enough to cut through the thin strands of hair that I had. Exhilarated and anxious to test them out, I held the scissors to one strand of hair and cut it. As I saw that part of the strand under the scissor disappear promptly, my eyes widened as I came to understand the extent of the power I held in my little hand. I could cut hair!

So I was there, standing in the cognac wood-floored hallway in front of my room, and this time I grabbed a whole fistful of hair and ran my magic blades through it. Snip. Snip. Snip. It was just as rewarding as I thought it would be, and as I watched the locks of brown drift in slow motion to the ground I was ecstatic with myself for making this discovery. It was only when there were four, five curls of hair on the ground and my hair now quite above my small shoulders that I started to realize what I had done. As I looked upon the small brown pile my eyes widened, but in fear this time, and while I wasn’t exactly sure what I was afraid of, I knew I should be afraid of something.

I remember running into my room, shutting the door quietly behind me, and pressing my ear to the crack with my heart beating. I remember hearing the approaching footsteps of my mom and hearing them stop in the middle of the hallway, pause for a few seconds, and then let out the most terrifying gasp – and then the yelling, “KYUNGHAAA!”

I remember that one day she told me I was no longer to be a flower girl. I never even thought about asking her why; I was so sure this was a consequence of my spontaneous trim. Every Sunday I felt guilty as I faced my teacher. I wanted to apologize to her for cutting my hair, but I felt deeply betrayed by her. What was so wrong about a flower girl with short hair?

A few weeks after the wedding was over, I was sitting in the church van next to my mom. As we entered the parking lot, my mom pointed out to me through the window a girl who looked about my age. “That’s the girl who was Mrs. Kim’s sister’s flower girl,” my mom said. With this newfound knowledge I pressed my face to the glass, scrutinizing her with envious eyes. She walked hand-in-hand with her mother, and had a pristine white bow in her hair. Her hair, her long, black, feminine, flowing hair. And I hated her for it.

Her name was Catherine Oh* and, although my mom told me many years later that the day of the wedding happened to fall on the funeral of my grandmother’s untimely death, I knew her for most of my life as the girl who took my place as flower girl.

*name has been changed

music

2011-01-12T05:08:00.000-08:00

I never needed it. I mean, I love it, I really do, but I don't have to be with it all the time, when I'm walking or talking or eating or breathing. I think I used to wish I was - the kind of person whose impeccable musical taste you could depend on, creates the perfect mixed CD's, does everything better with headphones and playlists. But mostly music distracts me when I study. Sometimes I like driving in silence. And in between I just don't notice whether or not it's there.

But you know that kind of music that curls a smile onto your face at 3:54 am? The kind that makes your heart lurch because somehow the person behind that voice was thinking the same thing? The kind someone managed to write down when you couldn't? The kind that makes you want to be sing better, play better, be better at music?

Or even more, love it?

It's that perfect combination of melodies, chords, progressions, volume, instruments, notes, beats, majors, minors, words, stories - sometimes one without the other, sometimes altogether - screaming collectively into one brilliant, volcanic orchestra of reverberations far beyond sound.

It's an art. And I think I could get used to it.

$307.50

2010-12-27T19:45:00.001-08:00

Is the amount of money I spent shopping today.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

JK it's the amount I SAVED!
At Urban Outfitters, of all places.
Total spent was ~$75; purchases included a $2.50 sweater and $5 jeans, whatuppp

Give me a second while I bask in my superficial, materialistic, bargain-hunting GLORY.

senses

2010-12-24T21:39:00.000-08:00

Sights of the season:

icicle lights on the roof
tinsel stars wrapped around every streetlight in Cerritos
lit Christmas trees peeking through every window
sale! sale! sale!
broken toy train wrapped around the Christmas tree
stockings and cards around the fireplace
giant poinsettias in every corner
frenzied wrapping paper throw-up everywhere
two mismatching wreaths at the door
the trees on Anthony Drive

Smells of the season:
the subtle linger of fresh pine in the house
freshly baked chocolate cookies
cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg

Sounds of the season:
the Salvation Army man playing his sax in front of Wal-Mart
Karen Sharp and KOST 103.5

jingling
dad's Christmas CD on the sound system
obnoxious laughter
the crunch of dead leaves
Tinkering on the piano
The nagging beep of the oven timer
.
.
.

Words of the season:
“ 'And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill towards men.’
…That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”
Let's not lose amidst the hustle and bustle what "the season"'s about - a baby. Have a Merry Christmas, everyone!

Cookie baking, carol singing, light viewing time with family. Missing the sister ):

on guard

2010-12-20T02:00:00.000-08:00

I've become increasingly convinced that the most dangerous thing that can happen to a person is this: passiveness. We're all vulnerable to it. Our talent, drive, ambition, happiness, invention, and joys - it really doesn't matter how much of it we have if we become passive. And that's the scary thing:

Passiveness is what stops you from writing out the thoughts you have, wastes away the night hours you don't have, convinces you that small decisions don't have big consequences, sucks the joy out of joys, stops you from taking action when you're inspired, moved, touched, or convicted. It's what stops me from waking up earlier to exercise, persuades me that mindless Facebook and Tumblr surfing is more fun than it really is, keeps me from pursuing hobbies out of laziness, whispers that a chapter of Proverbs and a short prayer are more than enough to purge me of my devotional duties for the day, definitely. It's Satan's best tool, and for good reason.

That being said, I need to get my act together and break off the oppressive reins of passiveness that have been driving me for much too long. Stop sleeping. Stop moping. Stop thinking. Stop pretending. Get moving. Get learning. Get walking. Get growing. There are those times when I'd rather be dramatic and feel as though God ripped out a piece of my heart without warning. But if that's really what he did, he's only going to fill it with something so much better - better because he knows what was meant to be there in the first place. Yes. Don't say, do. Pray. Act. Live.

Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Romans 12:11-12

I feel like a pretender sometimes. I know all the things I should do/say/think and can perform rather convincingly, but still my heart feels so ugly. Because it is. And what's the point of putting up the facade if God can see right through it and straight into the black chaos that is my heart? Who am I kidding?

Send revival, start with me.

Forayls.

* One of my goals this winter break is to make my blog's title (michelle eats) more accurate again (I have some post ideas I reallly don't want to flake on). Along with playing with my dad's Nikon D7000 (yup, D: ), if he lets me, for accompanying pictures and maybe video. Along with taking up writing songs again, even if they're brown and smelly and log-shaped. Along with working on my EAP/GS Paris apps. I already accomplished one goal, which was to (re)learn how to crochet YAY (albeit very poorly)! With the exception of maybe the third thing, please keep me accountable!

ugly ugly ugly

2010-12-09T00:29:00.000-08:00

1. After 2 and a half hours of driving, an hour of which was stop-and-go, I couldn’t get the photo paper I needed…UGH traffic UGH forgetfulness UGH unhelpful workers UGH me UGH driving

2. Got cheapo paper at Staples but it was 50 pages for $5 and I got to get restocked Corn Flakes at TJ’s after so I guess that was ok

3. But now I’m editing my pictures and I feel like they don’t make sense anddd I freaking realized the whole time my ISO was on freakingg 800 which was why they were coming out so weirdly bright so even though the exposure is ok they’re like noisy and blechkhsa;l

[btw Sonya Lee you’re amazing and beautiful and thank you so much for helping me like REALLY TIMES INFINITY you are awesome]

4. But wowowowow I suck and I really don’t feel good about my final project which I’m really sad about but the fact that it’s pretty much my fault for forgetfulness/procrastination makes me saddest wah especially because I really do like this class and I could have done so much betterrrrrrrr

fight on, sista

2010-12-02T00:03:00.001-08:00

Please keep our sister Cathy Shin in your prayers as she travels to the Philippines with her church to spread the good news! For providence, safety, and amazing things to be done through humble servants.

"How then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, 'How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!'" Romans 10:14-15

She should be on the plane now...waah thank you for challenging and encouraging me so much this quarter (and ever since I've known you) with your passion to live radically for Christ; be safe and see you when you get back on the 17th! <3

money

2010-11-29T16:05:00.001-08:00

I hate it

thank you for

2010-11-12T22:03:00.001-08:00

1. Safety, providence, sovereignty, a wake-up call.
2. The reassuring security of my dad’s arms wrapped tightly around me as he told me it was o.k.
3. The ability to: shed tears, be human, be overwhelmed by the grip of sin on my shoulder and lift it to the only one who can take it away.
4. The heart-in-my-throat feeling I got when I finally saw the Carmenita Rd exit sign.
5. The mother’s intuition that tells my mom to make all the food I was craving, without a single hint from me.
6. An amazing family and home to return to.

* I’m going to change. Not by my own ability or even my own willpower, but because he can carry it out to completion, I will.

mental note at 4am

2010-11-11T03:40:00.000-08:00

stuff to bring from home:

- capo (if the brother will allow it)

- napkins + paper towels

- a broom + dustpan

- slippers

* buy rainbows for me and caro at the rainbow outlet on the way home *

- two dresses from closet

- bright blue cable knit sweater

- shorts + tshirt + cleats from Daisy

- knitting shtuff (perhaps new, bigger needles and new yarn?)

- any missing spices. I think I left the ginger at home

- mom's famous krn bbq marinated skirt steak mmm

- chicken breast

- olive oil

- condiment dispenser bottles - maybe at Smart & Final?

- adhesive plastic hooks

- bathroom cleaner

- CHRISTMAS LIGHTS! CHRISTMAS LIGHTS! CHRISTMAS LIGHTS!

- Christmas wreath, if we have an extra!

- deep conditioner (Neutrogena)

- CONTACT SOLUTION

- one of the books Angie recommended me

- maybe go shopping for some warmer clothes. It's gonna get so cold. wah

It takes a lot (as in eight straight weeks) for me to be homesick, but at this point I really really really really can't wait to go home.

ketchup time!

2010-11-10T21:13:00.000-08:00

Tuesday:

- brothers: I'm not gonna lie; as prideful as I am I was eternally grateful that Moses carried my 200 lb (an exaggeration, but not by much) lighting kit from Geisel to Croutons. Eternally.

- friends that force me not to cut my bangs in moments of weakness

Wednesday:

- Pastor Kai : definitely one of the most approachable, relatable, chill pastors I have ever had, who has a huge heart for the college ministry and goes out of his way to reach students and let them reach him.

- Morning prayer: one of those things that's always hard to get to, but once you do, you're glad you did.

I just ate a Fruit Roll-up and at least five Hershey's almond kisses without a second thought. Actually, for the past three days in a row, I literally have not allowed myself enough time to get hungry. I'm forgetting what hunger feels like. ...I'm kind of disgustingly blessed.

let's be honest:

2010-11-09T00:21:00.001-08:00

I'm not really sure what's going on with me these days. As I'm trying to consciously "count my blessings" and be diligent about posting them up here, I'm conversely slipping deeper and deeper into laziness, apathy, forgetfulness, indifference, envy, insecurity, uncertainty, fear...and I find that more often than not, I honestly don't feel like thinking about what I'm thankful for, or smiling despite the circumstances because of God's goodness. And the thing is, I'm not going through some traumatic experience or unforeseen hardship; I just don't feel like it because I'd rather focus on what sucks. I know it can only lead to one conclusion, that being spiritual warfare (which I am not faring so well in at the moment). I need to shield my heart against these things; all the more so because I've been so surrounded with opportunities to seek God. After all,rejoicing always is in many ways a discipline and I need to train myself to do so. Meh I need so much prayer.

blessing #9:

Maybe it's an odd thing to be thankful for, but every once in a while I need to revisit the fact that I'm not stellar, and that's a blessing. That I'm mediocre at best, and in the growing list of hobbies I dabble in, there will always be a world of information unknown to me and a level my stretched fingertips just won't reach, that almost everyone I see is better than me, prettier than me, "cooler" than me, more talented than me...It seems more apt to be praising God for your talents and gifts - which is obviously great as we should be giving all due credit to Him - but be thankful for your inabilities, too. Because if you're lucky enough to fail at finding your identity and worth in something you can't do, that might just be what it takes for you to realize all you need is Christ. And really, that's one heck of an identity.

number se7en: harbor presbyterian church

2010-11-08T04:03:00.001-08:00

Even though I've been involved in it for a while now, it wasn't until this weekend (aka church weekend: sleepover, breakfast, football, church, pho, sister sister dinner) that I realized I'd finally made a place in my heart for Harbor. More specifically, when I was talking to one of the sophomore girls at our dinner about the struggles of being away from your "home church", I was reminded by my own words of how God has blessed me through my simple commitment of going to Harbor every Sunday in SD. Regardless of not serving in any actual ministry or holding any leadership roles in college group, the mere conscious, intentional decision to make Harbor my church made such a difference in my heart attitude, which in turn allowed me to fully partake in the growing and learning the church has to offer. Don't get me wrong; I definitely still really love CPC and it will always hold a special place in my heart as the church I grew up in, not to mention where I've met amazing brothers and sisters over the years. I just never really thought I'd get to a place where I could call another church home, but somehow, sometime, it happened, and I know it can only be by God's grace because I had so many petty worries and concerns about not being at CPC.

ALSO, especially this weekend, I've been so encouraged to see (slowly but surely!) sisters coming together in church through activities that allowed for bonding outside the context of a ministry - CCM, KCM, KCC, IV, whatever! Identification with our church, and ultimately with Christ, ironically gets lost in the ministry shuffle sometimes and that shouldn't happen because parachurches are here for the church, right? Anyway in the last few days I could definitely see God working in that aspect of our college group so it's been both encouraging and exciting, to say the least.

These are both bad pictures...D: but CPC and Harbor sisters

There's a trend of me posting these at 3am or later. This needs to change.

double double

2010-11-07T01:19:00.000-07:00

blessingz

Friday -

1. The servant-like hearts in apartment mates/Harbor sisters/the like. Triple H (hot, holy, and humble) for sure.

2. Being a girl. How guys get by without pajama parties, overly mushy heart-to-hearts, and "truth or dare" kind of boggles me.

Saturday -

1. Enforced exercise in the form of football practice

2. God providing through nearly immediately fulfilled food cravings (in specific, pho tai and bumpy crunchy dericious eggrolls from Phuong Trang. Their service is below parr next to Pho Cadao but their eggrolls might be even better :d)

3. Out-of-context quotable statements:

Girl 1: I want red or black lingerie for my honeymoon night.
Girl 2: I just want to play games!

HAHAHaewaHAHHAHAHaWhah

it's a little late

2010-11-04T03:02:00.001-07:00

and I look a little something like this right now

but there are too many things to be thankful for!

blessing(s) #3:

- answered prayers; in specific, developing a heart for the lost (aka going to campus ev because I want to, not have to). I think today was the first time I felt a genuine sadness for the indifference God's people have towards Him. Still have a long way to go but even this was pretty amazing.

- very detailed good dreams; Maybe 1) God is trying to comfort me, saying he'll carry everything out in due time, or 2) I'm just being tormented by my subconscious concerns. Either way he's telling me 1) I'm not in control and 2) I'm weak when it comes to my desires. Refer to Blessing #1.

- opportunities to serve; it's busy and tiring sometimes but I almost never regret it because God always humbles - even blesses - my unwilling heart

- my apartment-mates' boyfriends; sounds weird huh. But they're pretty dang awesome (one made miyukgook for breakfast and another is always quietly and selflessly serving), and I'm blessed to know these men of God and witness these relationships. Not to mention, I make a pretty good third wheel HAH

- safety while driving; not sure how I haven't gotten my car totaled yet, but I'm preeetty certain it's not by my own driving ability...because, uh, that ain't that great.

-----

When I stop and think about it, there's probably so much more. But it's 3 and I have a midterm tomorrow omgad so even though this is rushed/vague/painful to read, BYE

we only got four minutes to save the world*

2010-11-03T00:12:00.000-07:00

*or, to write this post -

Blessing #2!

Brothas and sisters with thought provoking blogs. Two posts in particular I would like to share (one new, one old):

"Two questions" - Bid Me Discourse, Angie Yi

"...Personal Favorite Phrases" - The United States of Richard, Richard Chung
(^ the last part regarding "you cannot hope to imagine", not the borderline creepy shorts part...jk Richard <3)

On a less thankful note, "mean" humor gets old fast D: Let's be encouraging and keep in mind that our actions and words are only reflections of what's written on our hearts! It's ok to be nice. Reminder to self.

pass the cheese, please

2010-11-02T01:59:00.001-07:00

I'm still on shorts, sunshine, and ice cream here, so how is it that we're writing elevens on our notes? Does it confuse anyone else that it's November already?

This season never fails to catch me by surprise, and I'm just dragged along for the rest of the ride - Thanksgiving, finals, Mammoth, Christmas, New Year's - until it's January and time finally decides to tick at a close to normal pace again. I don't want to race through it all this year, so, at least for the month of November, I'm going to start posting something I'm thankful for each day. Sarah Chong aka inspiration did this last year and I always wanted to do it! Not that anyone has to wait for the holiday season to count their blessings...if anything, thirty days could never be enough to list all of them at any given time :)

I know I've been really lazy with blogging - in any of my three blogs, heh - because frankly, LIFE has been passing by so fast and I haven't taken the time to stop and make mental notes of epiphanies and insights (few as they may be) I want to share. So here we go. Thirty blessings! The first being,

my weakness.

My brokenness, my utter lack of ability, or willingness, to wholly rely upon God, the gaping hole in my soul that longs to be filled with Something, my pathetic attempts to fill it with something, my emptiness apart from God. This is vague, but has manifested itself in so so so many ways lately, to the point where sometimes (when I'm lucky) I stop and look at where I led myself to be and it's like, "Really??? Are you serious. You are a sad, sad person." Sometimes it sucks (a lot. whiny whine whine), but it's definitely made me aware that I AM INCOMPLETE. I need. Need to feel happy, loved, fulfilled, purposeful. Much more than I would ever like to admit to myself. And I can't. can't! do that with the best of friendships, the sweetest boyfriend, talent I wish I had, expensive clothing, external beauty, or least of all myself. It's painful being reminded of how petty I am, but thankfully, it's been dragging an otherwise prideful me back to the cross. Paul knew his stuff when he said Christ's power is made perfect in our weakness - let's just say in comparison to mine, Christ's power is very, very perfect.

To our weaknesses! *cheers*

And let's continue to dwell upon our blessings, not just today, or this month, but allll the time!

(Told you it'd be cheesy.)

Edmond Dantes on happiness

2010-07-29T00:11:00.001-07:00

“I am not proud, but I am happy; and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride.”

“We are always in a hurry to be happy, M. Danglars; for when we have suffered a long time, we have great difficulty in believing in good fortune.”

“Joy takes a strange effect at times, it seems to oppress us almost the same as sorrow…happiness is like the enchanted palaces we read of in our childhood, where fierce, fiery dragons defend the entrance and approach; and monsters of all shapes and kinds, requiring to be overcome ere victory is ours.”

- Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

cliche what?

2010-07-27T01:15:00.001-07:00

I can be a sort of perfectionist when I want to. I'll spend hours, even days searching for the exact font I have in mind, until I finally find one that I'd have drawn myself. I proofread anything I post about a thousand times to track down that one elusive typo. I hate dress shopping because something is always off - the cut outdated, the details tacky, the material cheap - and I always leave stores tired and disappointed. I get writer's block even when dealing with the easiest of subjects (like food) just because every sentence has to be artfully phrased. I'll finish it somehow, but never be satisfied, knowing it's not what it could be. I think I know what I want, but I'll only know when I see it.

Which wouldn't be so much of a problem, as long as it didn't trickle into matters more important than typography or a final paper. But it does. And sometimes I worry. Sure, there exists a point to which perfectionism is only another word for "reaching high," and a refusal to settle a quality worthy of the highest respect, but to what extent? When does it start becoming detrimental? When does it stop being an asset and start becoming an excuse, because you've gotten so used to the idea that "nothing is ever good enough"?

What if you never find what you're looking for?

I'm positive it didn't help that soon after thinking about this I decided to watch "Bride Wars", which, as predictable as it was, still found me a royal mess when Anne Hathway and Kate Hudson sloppily made up. Add to the list of movies people really shouldn't cry in (right under "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants"), check.

Sometimes in life there really are bonds formed that can never be broken. Sometimes you really can find that one person who will stand by you no matter what. Maybe you will find it in a spouse and celebrate it with your dream wedding. But there's also the chance that the one person you can count on for a lifetime, the one person who knows you sometimes better than you know yourself is the same person who's been standing beside you all along.

- Marion St. Claire, "Bride Wars"

Hmm.

every day song

2010-05-12T12:44:00.000-07:00

This is a Mother's Day song

Not just any old song

Tell me, has it really been that long

Since we told you we love you,

Always appreciate all the things you do for us

Making our meals, washing our sheets are honestly just a plus

When you love us the way you do

We don't know quite what to say

Happy Mothers Day

a woman of her words

2010-05-06T02:13:00.000-07:00

is a woman of action.

I've become so horrible at expressing my love for other people through acts of service - whether they be birthday gifts, letters, phone calls, or even an attempt at meeting up for lunch...and the best excuses and apologies just don't cut it when it comes to nurturing the lifeline of all relationships (which is, at the very least, letting that other person KNOW you care). I take for granted so often that I am blessed with amazing friends and an amazing family, and because I know they care about me I assume they know I care about them. But obviously things don't work like that. May I be more intentional in my love for others, and may that love come from an overflow of the love Christ has poured out on me - very intentionally, every single day.

I have a laundry list

2010-04-27T19:18:00.000-07:00

of things I meant to write in here.

But I also have a laundry list of things to do, so this is all.

To enjoy talent without being discouraged by or envious of it is a daily challenge. Jess Delgado, you's amazing!

Time to get back to that second laundry list. I decided to tackle Tyra Banks for my biographical sketch paper, easily one of the biggest contradictions on television. God she's annoying. This should be interesting.

PostScript: JK this is way harder than I thought. How I am going to present a new perspective, and in five pages, is beyond me. I feel like I'm tackling a whale...a crazy, egotistical, interrupting whale...

haven't we been here before?

2010-04-20T01:06:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like I'm going in circles.

Lord, that you would be my center.

like umma like ddal

2010-04-16T00:12:00.000-07:00

I'm really not trying to praise myself here. Please ignore the mushy motherly compliments and specific references. I just wanted to share this email because it proves that I'm not even close to being a grammar nazi.

Hi Kyungha,

That was a GOOD piece of writing! CAN I FORWARD IT TO UNNI? I really enjoyed reading it. Brought back some mildly painful memories, but very precious ones to look back on. Thank God for the blessings we had. Oh, and Lucy. I remember her. We had her over because Unni was so stubborn about wearing it to school. She was hitting that very difficult age of 15 - 16.

Aside from a couple of grammatical errors, I LOVE it!!! I think the way you came back to the beginning (Halloween) was a perfect way of ending the narrative, coming full-circle. Nice tone and style. I wonder what your professor would say.

(On the grammar: There was a subject/verb disagreement and one hyphen missing. It should be: "and every time he saw a patient he greeted her like his long-lost cousin". ALSO, "tomorrow, my sixteen-year-old sister was going to visit my class.." - not visit to my class. And I think one sentence sounds better this way: "for this utterly foreign object that would be an inescapable part of my life for the next six years, rather than "inescapable part of the next six years of my life". But then you may have wanted to emphasize the "six years", so never mind.)

Love,
Umma

P.S. You are a wonderful writer. Sorry for the proofreading. I LOVE proofreading. I wonder if I can get a job at a college doing this for students...

P.P.S. I will do yours for free.

why.

2010-04-15T22:20:00.000-07:00

Gyaaaaahhh a;dlskfja

It was nice. But what can you do? Only God is sovereign.

Still, I can't help but think I was supposed to do something...

I have so much to learn still about forgiveness. Forgiveness even when receiving an apology isn't in the picture.

and repeat

2010-04-13T21:29:00.000-07:00

Imagine there's no heaven

It's easy if you try

No hell below us

And above us only sky

Imagine all the people living for today

I don't know about you, but a world where this exhausting life of chasing after happiness...is finite - a world without vindication, without a Savior, without a future, and most of all, without the hope of an eternity spent with our Creator - a world where today is all we have to live for - is very, very, scary in my book.

That being said,

The music...not so much.

P.S. I'm in Geisel. And I'm gassy. I think I might have farted already a couple times but I don't know if they were audible because I have my headphones on....

the good kind of gluttony

2010-04-12T16:11:00.000-07:00

I guess you could say I'm a little notorious for being a slow eater. Whenever I'm out with my friends, nine out of ten times I'm the last one eating. At home, my mom starts clearing up the table and gets started on the dishes before I'm done enjoying the last few morsels on my plate - sometimes I even have to go back to the counter to find something I want because my mom wrongly assumed I was done with it. I just like to give myself ample time to eat a meal (ideally an hour) to either a) relax or b) eat like a starving fat boy.

You can laugh, but I have my reasons!

I like to savor my food. Enjoy it. Revel in it. Find comfort in the sublime marriage of good conversation, good company, and good cookin' - in my opinion, few things reflect the absence of those things more than a hasty meal.

So why is it that, when it comes to the bread of LIFE, I want nothing more than to stuff it down my throat and attempt to swallow it in one gulp - before I can even remember its taste?

Why is that, when I have the opportunity to engage in conversation with the One who knows the innermost desires of my heart, I try to find excuses to leave early?

Why is that, when I'm sitting at the table of the Most High, who lowered Himself so that I can experience his unfathomable glory, petty thoughts clutter my mind?

Taste and see that the LORD is good;

blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.

Psalm 34:8

O Lord, may I crave to be in your presence, overindulge myself with your words, delight in their infinite layers of flavor, and cling to your table when all else threatens to pull me away because YOU are the only thing that can satisfy this shriveled, malnourished soul.

P.S. I like analogies. :)

let me count the ways

2010-04-09T13:43:00.001-07:00

Why Anne Burrell from "Secrets of a Restaurant Chef" is my new Food Network crush:

She admits her mistakes: "Crud lookit I browned the crap out of those carrots"
She corrects her mistakes: "That's coming along beautiful...(me: agh!)...beautifully."
She 's unmistakably cool: *taking a bite* "Oh, I knocked it out of the ball park. (me: judging) Yeah, I rock."

HAHA. I'm sold.

hodgepodge

2010-04-08T00:52:00.000-07:00

grow hair, grow!

Much like my room, most of my brain is too cluttered for me to gather any coherent thoughts together - so here they are, separately, as I attempt to throw them into a neat pile:

I like U.O.'s new laptop art - but enough to pay $30? I think NOT (wait but I really like them)
I miss knowing how to pretend to know how to dance (and flying, even crappy flying)
I had my first job interview with C. Shin and got owned by someone who was obviously overqualified - at first I thought she was our interviewer...yeup that cannot be good. I really want to work at Anthropologie now. PLEZ
Thanks, thanks, thanks. So much to give thanks for! Even the ability to give thanks in itself is something to give thanks for. Whee You are almighty!
Times of growth can very much be when one is most spiritually vulnerable. On guard!
I feel a little musically deprived.
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY, I JUST WANT AN IPAD!
Should I not minor in vis arts anymore?
Pull me back down to earth!
Not sure what it holds, but I'm excited for the future! Summer + fall + life included.
La Jolla's weather can be glorious.
ONE thing.
If it doesn't breakkk
I need to get-a-started on my April board. It's still on February.
'Tis April???!!!
I like salad. Salad makes me poo.

I would like to end with two things:

1. something to bookmark for later times of struggle

"Wait for the LORD;

be strong and take heart

and wait for the LORD."

Psalms 27:14 2. wise words I found but don't want to listen to

idle hands

are satan's tools

Owned.

oh death, where is your sting?

2010-04-04T23:04:00.000-07:00

"We are

Easter people

living in a

Good Friday world."

And we are raised with Him,
Death is dead, love has won, Christ has conquered;
And we shall reign with Him
For He lives, Christ is risen from the dead!

Mmmm. I don't deserve any of this - not even the discernment to recognize I don't deserve any of this. Really? Me? Out of all people?! So thank you. Thank you for giving me freedom, for giving me hope in a new, eternal, REAL life with You.

I'm being lazy but that's all I really gotsta say.

turning

2010-04-03T18:34:00.001-07:00

Of all the things I can futilely chase after, TRUE. LASTING. FREEDOM can only be found in the renouncing of everything. In fixing my eyes on the one, the only, the eternal One.

"Who may ascend the hill of the Lord?

Who may stand in his holy place?

He who has clean hands and a pure heart,

who does not lift up his soul to an idol

or swear by what is false.

He will receive blessing from the Lord

and vindication from God his Savior."

Psalm 24: 3-5

It's been a roller-coaster of a day, but I wouldn't take a second of it back.

auf wiedersehen

2010-04-02T11:15:00.001-07:00

I finally met Heidi Klum!

Ok, not really Heidi Klum. I wish. But to be fair, my MMW T.A. does remind me of her, and carries a similar graceful yet self-assured authority. She's from Potsdam, Germany, and speaks in a dainty, feminine, trace-of-a German accent that somehow makes her seem posh and well-read. She has a thin, tall frame, that delicate bone structure so many Europeans are blessed with, mildly highlighted golden hair in a relaxed bun, blue-green eyes that are more of an afterthought then the center of attention. Dressed modestly in all black (with the exception of a blue ombré scarf I found myself staring at for most of section), she was the definition of chic.

Now that you're assured of how creepy I am, I realized that appearances really do affect people so much - those who are "easy on the eyes" are generally treated better, whether they're conscious of it or not. I found myself desperately wanting her to like me, something I never really cared about with my last five T.A.'s. I found myself making an appointment with her because I had class during her office hours - only once in five quarters have I ever bothered going to office hours, and only because my T.A. specifically requested that I did. Granted, I am significantly more interested in the material for this quarter, and I am significantly more determined to get an A as it's the last cursed quarter of this G.E...but I was still pretty surprised at my susceptibility to outward appearances! I think it's also because I have an irrational fear of strangers, adults, and teachers, so adult teacher strangers especially, and she just seems so much more personable and approachable than:

1) an over-the-top bubbly woman who is WAY too happy to be teaching about the fall of the Aztecs at 8am
2) a stoic guy who isn't mean, but just doesn't say much
3) a scraggly bearded dude with huge hair who insists on wearing the same rastafarian-ish beanie everyday, even when he must reach deep into its crevices to relieve the itch of unwashed hair, and spends forever beating around the bush
4) the professor himself, who shamelessly plays favorites
5) someone who can put you to sleep with his voice

Anyway, I'm just glad to finally have a T.A. who I actually want to get to know for the first time.

Why do accents automatically make people so cool?!

standing on the edge

2010-03-29T02:02:00.000-07:00

wheeeeeeee

God is so good (to me).

To think, if he answers my prayers when those prayers are so few and halfhearted, how much more is He capable of?! Not that the intensity or frequency of my prayers determines His power or anything of the sort, but it's just so humbling and mind-blowing to know that he would grant ME such peace, such fulfillment, such relief, such happiness...that I honestly don't deserve.

Even when I go into something reluctantly, thinking "WOW I'M SUCH A NICE PERSON" or "I guess this is what God wants me to do, even though I reallllly would rather not", He blesses, humbles, and teaches me so much. I'm such a noob. He knows how to get to me, how to challenge my pride, how to test me, how to LOVE me.

This quarter, I really want God's love to become more real to me. It's been an on and off struggle of mine for a good while now. Even though I say things and sing things and read things that talk about his amazing love, I hardly ever feel compelled or broken or even grateful at the sound of those words. It all just falls into routine sometimes, but I want that joy to be fresh, new, untainted...and after reading Simon's entry, maybe I have to make MY love real to Him as well. As in, really give Him some good quality time, not just falling-asleep-in-my-bed-time. To do that, I will have to manage my time so much better..and keep my priorities in check.

Other secondary (but still pressing!) goals for the quarter:

glorify God in my studies. A 4.0 would be nice, but I'd just like to have the peace in knowing I honestly tried, and didn't fall to laziness or ingratitude.
eat healthier. This does not mean dieting. I love food way too much for such heinous practices. But gluttony is a sin! And my body is God's temple.
RIMAC more. Spiritual AND physical discipline
invest in relationships. Be sacrificial, be understanding, and above all, be loving.
be prayerful in all that I do. Proverbs 3:5
make a conscious effort to get plugged into Harbor. Yes, that would mean I'd have to stay every weekend...but Harbor has honestly been a blessing in different ways than CPC, and I need to get over my fear of commitments in order to be fully blessed and bless others. Except I'm thinking of going home this weekend because I have no food HAHa
take more advantage of La Jolla's beautiful weather. Beach!

Oh, and maaajor job hunting tomorrow before class. Mayjuh.

chyeah

2010-03-28T19:19:00.000-07:00

hand over them keys

2010-03-25T21:42:00.000-07:00

If you know me at all, or maybe if you don't even know me at all, you'd know me to be a pretty horrible driver. Typical "bad driving" tendencies of mine include: looking at the passenger during conversations (just being polite!), unnecessarily slowing down when changing lanes (waiting for that one car to pass!), stopping just in time to avoid hitting the car in front (oh c'mon, I know my car!), locking the keys inside (I swear I remember putting them in my bag!), blah blah blah. Up until today, I would have defended myself profusely with the parenthetical excuses, but I think I've passed the point of grace and pushed my luck as far as it will ever go -

I was eating with Esther Weon at the famed Dino's Chicken and Burgers for the first time (most satisfying $5.50 meal I've had in a while, by the way), in West Downtown LA - somewhere around Pico and 12th. In short, pretty sketchy area...but good food. Definitely good food. So after some finger-lickin' good chicken and a good catch-up session, we're walking back down to where we parked on 11th. Being the direction-less scatterbrain that I am, we had to turn around a couple of times, but eventually Esther spotted the area where we parked. We (or rather, Esther, because apparently I FAIL at parallel parking) had squeezed it into a prettttty tight spot, so we were hoping that one of the cars would have left by the time we came back. Sure enough, one of the car's lights were on, so Esther said "Hey! That car's leaving!" But then as we got closer, I realized "that car" looked awfully familiar, and the fact that it barely fit in between two cars was also awfully familiar...and then I realized "OMG that's MY car; I left the headlights on!"...which was weird because the sun was still up when we got there, so there's no way I would have turned on my headlights, but obviously I wasn't thinking clearly. So we walk up to the car laughing at ourselves (but mostly at me), and I open up my purse confidently reaching into the pocket I keep my car keys in. Old gum wrapper, chapstick, mirror...but no keys. Maybe I left it in my pocket? No, only my phone...nervous laughter ensues. It must be here somewhere..crap what if I locked the keys in AGAIN, what would Umma say, it's all the way in downtown L.A, too....crapcrapcrap. And then, just for the heck of it, I peek inside. I see the lit-up speedometer, the gear on "Park", the gas tank level...wait WHAT the gear's on Park?! "OMG Michelle your keys are inside ---!" Ever so slowly, we reach for the door handle. Pull gently. It...opens. OMGOMGOOMGOMGOMGMOGOMGOMGOMGOMOGMOMGOMGOMGOMOMGOMGOMGOGMOGMOGMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOGMOGMOGMOGMOMOGMOGMGMOGMOGMOGMOGMGOMGOMGOMGOGMOGM

Okay I pretty much left my KEYS INSIDE MY CAR HALFWAY TURNED WITH THE LIGHTS ON WITH THE DOORS OPEN IN A COMPLETELY UNLIT NEIGHBORHOOD IN DOWNTOWN L.A. FOR ALMOST TWO HOURS IN THE EVENING AND IT WASN'T STOLEN. Two important lessons here:

1) MICHELLE, YOU ARE A HORRIBLE DRIVER.

2) THERE IS A GOD.

There is a God, indeed. And it's funny, how He works. When something happened to me a while back, I thought, "Why would He do that?" and later, when I thought I got it allll figured out, I thought, "Oh dang, God, you're crazy. Now I understand why you did all that." But then he went and pulled a crazy double-toe-loop-triple-lutz-quadruple-axel on me and spun everything around and now I have no idea what He's trying to do anymore. I thought I understood, but I don't. I thought I could see, but I can't. I thought I knew the way I was headed, but I don't.

And as scary, frustrating, and unnerving as that is - as stubborn, uncertain, and impatient as I am - accepting the fact that my life is NOT in my own hands may be my most responsible move to date. It's in God's sturdy, wise, all-knowing hands, and no matter how much I complain (Speed up! Slow down!) or swear I know what I'm doing (It's a LEFT here, I KNOW it's a left), or fall asleep in the back seat...He'll still be at the wheel, unyielding, unfaltering, leading me to the next place I need to get to. There might be bumps along the way, "accidents" that aren't really accidents, honks from angry drivers, U-turns, stoplight after stoplight after stoplight...but heck, I'm sure the guy at least won't ever lock the keys inside. And I'm sure He knows how to parallel park? Not to mention his foresight and hindsight and omniscience - probably a good idea to leave the driving to Him.

That, my friends, is as comforting as it gets. :)

words of comfort from Psalm 16

2010-03-25T10:21:00.000-07:00

1 Keep me safe, O God,
for in you I take refuge.
2 I said to the LORD, "You are my Lord;
apart from you I have no good thing."

3 As for the saints who are in the land,
they are the glorious ones in whom is all my delight.

4 The sorrows of those will increase
who run after other gods.
I will not pour out their libations of blood
or take up their names on my lips.

5 LORD, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;
you have made my lot secure.

6 The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.

7 I will praise the LORD, who counsels me;
even at night my heart instructs me.

8 I have set the LORD always before me.
Because he is at my right hand,
I will not be shaken.

9 Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body also will rest secure,

10 because you will not abandon me to the grave,
nor will you let your Holy One see decay.

11 You have made known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in myself that I forget who's holding me together.

quite frankly,

2010-03-24T16:33:00.000-07:00

I am confit you said.

cone fused.

con fyu zd

kunfyoozed

confused

bah

bleh

poop.

words of wisdom, I think

2010-03-22T02:28:00.000-07:00

"I'm kind of antisocial. Appa is kind of antisocial, too. I think that's why all my kids are kind of antisocial. I don't like making friends and socializing. I just like being home, and being with Appa. Appa is my best friend. He's the only person I could never get sick of, and Appa loves me. He loves being with me. Don't tell him I said that. Because I know you will. Being married is like living with your best friend. I love being married. I would recommend it to anyone"

Our one-way conversation on the way to Costco HAHA

In related news: CPC goes 21st century (I've been gone longer than I thought...)

Anywho, today's message on Spirituality and Sexuality was solid stuff. I'm so thankful that I have godly, gospel-centered messages from great pastors wherever I go :)

whoa there

2010-03-18T23:56:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's just because things happen to be turning out a certain way lately, but I feel like a broken record when it comes to friends/relationships and how they're hard to hold on to, hard to trust. It's not that I'm all locked up in my bittered, hardened shell now or am all traumatized from losing friends, or even losing friends in general - I can honestly say I feel blessed to be where I am with who I'm with - but I guess things keep coming up where I realize how much (and how easily) circumstances change. And how dependent relationships can be on circumstances.

But then today I realized that maybe it's not just the relationships I should be complaining about. Maybe it's me? I can't seem to hold onto more than a few friends (as in a singular group) at a given time. It's relatively easy for me to get comfortable with people, but so, so, so often, every time the commonalities we share (same class, same school, same city, same interests, same lifestyle, etc.) disappear, the bond that we used to have is next in line. Of course it's not always that extreme, and there's those relationships (if you're lucky) where no matter how long you stay apart, when you get together you can just lounge around saying nothing yet saying everything, as if you've never left - but I've learned that no relationship is immune to the symptoms of time and distance, when both are long enough. Old and new friends alike. I guess that's like, a DUH MICHELLE thing to say but it's so easy for me to forget that relationships I take for granted need effort, too.

Anyway back to what I was saying about sharing things in common. I'd like to think that I don't have to compromise myself or doubt the way I am in order to keep relationships, and I'd like to think that I can hold onto them for as long as possible. Stephanie said in small group once that God places people in our lives during particular times for particular reasons which we're not able to understand at the time, and then when their purpose is fulfilled, God will provide and place someone else there. I feel like that's so true, and I know I've learned from every friend I've made, whether through the friendship itself or through the falling out. But I want to keep everyone. Am I being too selfish? It's like, to the point where the only reason I'm hesitant to get close to someone is not because I think they'll hurt me, but because I'm scared that once the things we share in common go away, there'll be nothing left there, nothing left to say.

And I know that the heart of the problem is my heart - that in most of these cases, Christ is not at the heart. I used to have trouble understanding how exactly you were supposed to have a Christ-centered relationship with people who haven't accepted him as their Lord and Savior - how does that even work? But I think I've figured it out, at least a little. Christ can be the reason why you love the person, the reason why you keep trying when things fail, the reason why you have patience, the reason why you sacrifice - because his love is so much greater than the love that we could ever offer anyone, yet he's bestowed that unto us so graciously. Yup, Christ can still be the center. So I guess I don't have an excuse anymore.

At the end of the day, God is greater than time. God is greater than distance. God is greater than pet peeves, awkward silences, music preferences, favorite movies, partying, AIM, phone conversations, girl talks, stupid fights, missed calls. And I want that God to be the God of my relationships. :)

On that note, this spring break, I'm so excited to:
- put Christ at the center as I seek to build new relationships and nurture old ones at CCM Spring Advance
- catch up with old friends and share with them how God has been mercifully working in my life in San Diego
- be bold in my faith, conquer my fears and discomfort, and love, love, love.

And I can't wait to see my girls (and bruthas) at CPC. It's been too long. I love my church :) I hope I don't get too attached this week.

Couldn't find a good recent picture of the girls...and this is missing Weon and Plee, but will have to do <3

Also my retainers! Can't wait to wear them again! My teeth moved way too much.

uh-oh, those summer nights

2010-03-16T23:33:00.000-07:00

Tonight was a refreshing break from the deceivingly frigid ones we’ve been having here in La Jolla. At promptly 8:00 P.M., I was walking in Sixth College (along the sidewalks with the lights that make you go colorblind) in an oversized t-shirt and a really light cardigan, and it was PERFECT. As in, I didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortably cold or hot, but just refreshingly cool...perfect for taking a walk, for aimlessly wandering, for holding long conversations with no real end, for catching up with your best friend in New York for over an hour. But too bad it happens to be finals week (not that that prevented me from doing any of those things). I love this summer night kind of weather. 'Tis lovely. Love. Love. Love. Now all I need is a blanket of stars above me and I’m set.

Picnic tomorrow! At the beach! To study, of all things! I’m so ex sigh ted. And blessed <3

good day, miss

2010-03-15T17:37:00.000-07:00

A friend once said to me (in response to my complaint about how I felt I was talking to myself when I wrote in my Xanga):

"I don't necessarily think of it as talking to yourself in the present, but more into the future, and sometimes yourself in the past. Even if those time lapses vary from years to a couple seconds."

Having used Blogger for barely over a year now, I already feel like some of the things I wrote are messages from the past, from someone I used to know but lost touch with. So here are some of the things I guess the past me wanted to say to the now-me (and the future-me, when she inevitably decides to unwisely procrastinate).

(On a side note: I realize this is as self-absorbed as it gets, but I guess at the core, it's meant to be sort of self-serving - a bookmarking of some of the posts I'd like to remember. Me choosing which posts Me would like to talk to Me through. Disgusted? Dude, this is blog is ABOUT me. Get used to it. Hehehe. Ew. I'm joking.)

How are you? Have you been doing ok? How are your eating habits these days? Still irregular and unhealthy? Anyway, just thought I'd like to remind you of a few things, in case you've forgotten; things to make you smile, laugh, think, and pray :)

Your parents can be hilarious.

God is funny.

The little things can be great, but don't hold onto them.

God knows what he's doing.

Chase after God.

Trust in God.

Also, I'm pretty sure I'm smarter, wiser, and skinnier than you. Just sayin'.

Stay cool, sister.

Toodles,

Your April-August of 2009 self.

quick, before today ends!

2010-03-14T23:51:00.001-07:00

I just realized today is Pi day!

For those of you who don't know, it's just a day of celebration for people nerdy enough to care that the date is 3.14.

I remember in senior year, Cordova actually bought a bunch of Costco apple pies for our Calc Honors class and we ate it after her lecture. She was funny. I remember we used to think she was a joke because it was her first year at Whitney, and she did ridiculously wonderful things like let us retake tests. She was obsessed with cereal and milk and prolonging the sogginess of the cereal for as long as possible - she even had a special Tupperware thing with separate milk and cereal compartments. It was pretty cool. That was a pretty chill class.

One of the things I miss about high school is how even if everyone around you isn't really your friend, they still sort of are by default. You can just walk to the front of the class to get a tissue or throw something in the trash and on the way stop by a few desks and linger and share snacks (that were in your tin Spongebob lunchpail) and make fun of each other and then go back to your seat when the teacher decides to finally take command of "that rowdy group of seniors." I wish I had the courage to say so much as a "hi" to my college classmates...I think I'm loosening up, but it's hard not to be so reserved when almost every day, you're seeing someone for the first time.

Blast from the past...HAHA wow we all look so awkward. Fave class from high school, hands down :) This is not Cordova by the way. It's Baillie, the only teacher I've ever approached after graduation. 10th grade English. Why the heck am I posting this.

Why am I being all nostalgic?! I'm not feeling nostalgic at all...I didn't even know I would start talking about high school when I started writing this -_- I guess I'm just trying to pretend like I care enough about these things to NOT STUDY a;lsdjfal;ksdjf and because I have so many other things I was going to write about, but it would require more brain usage and I'm just staying far away from anything of the like.

Also I think I consumed at least half a day's worth of calories in the last couple of hours, and the worst part is none of them were satisfying. Blech

when it comes down to it

2010-03-11T23:00:00.000-08:00

I really, really, really, really miss my family.

From NYC to Chicago to D.C. and back to NY:

My sister is amazing, talented and beautiful and I'm so happy that she landed a real reporting job (not where the video is from), but dang. All the way in Elmira, New York...

Wherever she goes, I know that she'll blow everyone away. You can do it, Unni <3

let's play!

2010-03-10T00:57:00.000-08:00

Shel Silverstein knows what's up.

Cafe Night was a success. Pretty much a full house, really awesome and convicting performances (dude..spoken word), and just a good time with the brothers and sisters :)

^ How it was supposed to sound like...minus the electric and C. Shin's mesmerizing rapping skills. I have beautiful and talented friends <3

a conversation with myself

2010-03-08T17:54:00.000-08:00

Do you care?

No.

Do you care?

No.

No, really, do you care?

I said no!

I know, but it just sounds like you don't really mean it.

But I really don't! I promise!

Just answer me. Do. you. care.

Uh...aaahh....agh...

DO YOU CARE?!

Ok, geez, fine, calmmm down...maybe a little. But it's not what you think!

Uh duh, I know that, I'm you, remember?

Oh yeah. Then why were you interrogating me like this in the first place

I don't know, it's just fun to talk to yourself sometimes; wouldn't you agree?

I guess. But I feel a little crazy.

Yeah.

Yeah.

lists lists lists

2010-03-08T00:22:00.000-08:00

I'm usually o.k. with me, but I might be better off if these things changed:

I eat when I'm not hungry, eat food I'm not craving when I'm not hungry, and crave things when I'm really full.

I only pick up my guitar when I should be doing anything but.

I only care enough to clean my room when I should be doing anything but.

I'm pretty selective (with who I talk to, who I respond to, who I bother getting to know).

Almost everything tastes better to me when dipped in chocolate.

Tomorrow always seems like a better day to start something (i.e. eating better, RIMACing, or starting an 8 page paper), until tomorrow suddenly becomes yesterday.

I'm too scared of the inevitable awkward silences and fake smiles to pursue new relationships with people. I'm too selfish to compromise my comfort to increase that of someone else. I'm too wary of the bumps along the way that I can't see the blessings and rewards at the end. Maybe I do try sometimes, but not hardly enough. And while I know I won't regret it, I'm so hesitant to jump into these things with full trust in God.

And lastly, I only blog when I should be doing anything but.

Yup.

Oh, and I do this all the time:

things that taste just as good (or better) frozen

2010-03-06T20:36:00.000-08:00

white grapes.
brownies.
blueberries.
sliced bread.
and...
samoas.

Heck yes.

Oh Baby Chip, you are doing too well...

because sometimes,

2010-03-05T12:16:00.001-08:00

being realistic is no fun.

"Have I gone mad?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Completely bonkers. But you want to know a secret?

All the best people are."

smokin hot?

2010-03-03T04:26:00.001-08:00

This is one of my all-time favorite images from The Sartorialist; one of the first ones I dragged onto my desktop to save into a designated folder for easy access. And one of the first things I noticed about it was her effortlessly scrunched up, last-minute bun, then the way she was clutching onto her wool coat, then her cryptic facial expression, and then the spur-of-the-moment way in which this precious, almost lucky photo was taken. I didn't even notice she was holding a cigarette in her right hand until I came across a reader's comment that went something like "Only Parisians could make smoking look so chic!"

Then today I saw this girl sitting at the Pangea shuttle stop. According to some compromise between figments of my imagination and my murky memory, she was wearing this beige-ish, oversized, chunky knit sweater over sheer black tights with some interesting cognac-colored high-top shoes, a short, androgynous haircut tousled and swirled upwards, and a pair of bright lavender wayfarers contrasting beautifully with her chocolate skin and jet-black hair. Just as I managed to process, analyze, admire, and take an imaginary snapshot of her in my mind (one must resort to such creeper-like behavior when not endowed with a proper camera), I caught a whiff of one of my least favorite smells - could it be? Making one short side glance at her while trying to inconspicuously hold my breath, I got a better look: her right leg casually crossed over her left (such poise!), her ever-so-slight slouch, and (ah), a recently lit cigarette held gingerly between her fingers. And then we passed forever, me with her noxious first impression still lingering in my nostrils for a couple more steps.

This brings us to the issue of smoking and cigarettes so rampant in photos of celebrities, vintage movies, high fashion magazines, and the like. Personally, in the case of of the two individuals mentioned above, was their smoking the first thing I noticed about them? No. Was their smoking what made them stylish, cool, or edgy? No. That's the point, or at least I think so. It's not so much the smoking, or any action really, or any piece of clothing really, or any specific hairstyle really, that makes you "hot" or "fashionable" or "sexy", but the way you carry yourself, the way you put all these things about you, inside and out, together and present that to the world. At the same time, though personally, smoking is what prevents me from standing around people who interest me, I don't think it's inherently wrong - just like any other addiction, it holds an invisible power over you and your own agenda and is a good example of the existence of earthly consequences, but I don't think one can simply call it out as a sin or something wrong.

Just don't do it for the purpose of trying to look good, because if I made anything clear, it doesn't really work like that.

Personally (apparently that's my favorite word today...), I just never got over the vivid S.T.A.R. diagrams the local sheriffs showed us in the second grade:

Because I don't know about you, but I can't imagine that in any Sartorialist post or Vogue "street style" feature, even with the brightest lavender wayfarers.

What do you think?

stuck in my head

2010-03-01T01:24:00.000-08:00

God is good. God is good to give you your favorite weather after a cold and gloomy day (cool, bright and sunny, clear blue skies with a few too-perfect-to-be-real cumulus clouds strewn around, thank you very much). God is good to make your weird campus actually look pretty for once. God is good to give you exactly what you need at Sunday service - the right prayer of confession, words of encouragement, sermon - for your hardened heart to be pierced and convicted.

God is good, almost annoyingly so. God is good to remind you how helpless you are without Him when you're feeling all high and mighty and holy and changed. God is good to make you cry, make you embarrassed, make you confess, make you repent. God is good to show you his unconditional, unfailing love through that of a mother. God is good.

God is good.

just a little lost

2010-02-28T04:21:00.000-08:00

This is so frustrating.

Years pass, things happen, lessons are learned. But in the end, have I changed at all? Sure, I'd like to think so - I'd like to think that my sporadic revelations and occasional bout of self-enlightenment weren't just peaks in a monotonous road to progress, that I didn't completely regress each time I swore I'd learned something, that I could say with confidence I've been steadily growing. But I can't help but think, when I take a second to actually listen to the thoughts going through my pitiful head, that nothing has changed. If anything, I've just become more petty, more insecure, more self-absorbed.

And that sort of disgusts me. I disgust me.

I want with all my being to be SATISFIED with God's love, to know that Someone who actually knows me - like, KNOWS me for all the things I've done, all the things I am, all the things about me that make me shudder with guilt - is jealous for me. Jealous! I'm not saying that is what I want, but it's what I want to want. Because, see, what I really want is the approval of others, the love of others, the praise of others, the acceptance of others. More than I'm proud to admit. Much more.

When I finally realize that the hunt for those things is always going to be a never-ending trail of hurt and despair and unsatisfaction - leading to my own self-destruction (whoa rap time [just kidding this is supposed to be a serious post]) -

I'd say that's the only time I'll ever have a shot at finding my way out of this mess that is me.

humanizing

2010-02-26T02:07:00.000-08:00

Something I've been struggling with for a good part of this year is the idea that at one moment, you could be laughing and having the time of your life with someone - sharing the deepest of secrets, most intimate of moments, most hilarious of memories - and then at another, seeing or even talking to them once a week is asking for too much. The fickleness of friendship. The fleetingness of our emotions. The invalidity of our promises. The fragility of human bonds not based on the one and only relationship that allows us to love. And I say this on my part, too. It takes two to tango, right? But needless to say, I found myself...bitter whenever I had enough time to dwell upon things that weren't going as "planned." If not bitter, then angry, or depressed. And often, alone. And then these situations, people, tiny and insignificant actions that really meant so much more - were left to rot, fester, and multiply in my insecure heart.

It - this whole stage I was going through - gave me material. Material for poetry assignments. Material for songs I had to sugarcoat with happier chords. Material for sharing time, whenever I felt like really sharing. But aside from those things (which, don't get me wrong, I am thankful for), not much else. It was like, why can't everything just be the same, you know? I only had a lot to complain about and not much prayer. Not even complaining to God. Only to a few close friends, to a few cryptic blog posts, to myself.

But where was I going with this? Oh yes. (There is light at the end of this very long, tiresome tunnel of dark self-reflection, I promise!)

Recently, and by recently I mean in the last few weeks, I've come to a wonderful realization. A wonderful, comforting, warming realization. And that realization is this:

God provides.

Yeah, okay. People come and go. Relationships work and fail. But God has been gracious enough to ensure that I was never truly alone, not only in the spiritual sense, but in the physical as well. And I've come to see (with my 20/20 hindsight) that during this time, I was able to develop deeper relationships with other people I wasn't having problems with, relationships that have really, really, REALLY blessed me thus far. I really don't know why he would do that when I rarely turned to him, even when I knew he was urgently beckoning me into his unfailing arms of love through painful rejections of others. I know I don't even deserve the comfort in knowing he's there; yet he provided me with physical evidence of his love for me, physical evidence that I am not alone, just because he knows how unbelieving and visually dependent I am. Dang God, you're pretty cool.

I was going to write more because in the amount of time I avoided writing anything meaningful in here, I thought of around three solid topics I wanted to get out on paper (err...figuratively speaking) before I forgot them. But they're all loosely related and I feel like this is annoyingly long enough already. So I guess until the next time I'm up at 3:00a.m. and have nothing better to do than pretend I can write, that's all :)

PostScript:

I need new music. I'm too lazy to find new music. Help me find new music!

PostPostScript:

Richard hasn't updated this for a while, but this is always so amusing/enlightening for me : clicketyclick

the best 53 seconds of your life

2010-02-23T00:28:00.000-08:00

[sign into Facebook beforehand please]

holler at me at michelleeebeans@gmail.com for event and booking info

polaroid scarves?!

2010-02-18T00:33:00.000-08:00

Pretty nifty (thanks Danny!).

And while we're on the superficial/lusty note, I ogled at Sonia Rykiel's collection for H&M for a good half-hour (which is coming out this Saturday - YAY I'm not too late, YAY it's selling in Fashion Valley, NAY to the monay =/ ). I love love love a good high-end designer collaboration with a low-end store. :)

all the single ladies

2010-02-14T17:25:00.000-08:00

How appropriate is it for this day to fall on Sunday?

The greatest love that anyone could ever know....

came from JESUS, foo!

(...sorry.)

Anyway, this was in the "Words of Encouragement" at Harbor today, and I wanted to share:

as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.
Psalm 103:11-13

Have good Valentine's Day, y'all.

P.S. Did you know St. Valentine was a martyr?? Darn consumerism.

annoying typo time

2010-02-12T16:26:00.000-08:00

"sensor" instead of "censor"

"it's" instead of "its" and

"its" instead of "it's"

I know, it's annoying and pretentious to point them out, but I guess in a way it's comforting because I know exactly WHY they bother me (because they're wrong and makes people sound less intelligent then they'd like) and how to fix them. On the other hand, I CAN'T figure out why I randomly don't want go home. Or don't want to talk to my mom when I know she loves and cares enough to write me emails about the joy of Christ's resurrection. Or why I can't and don't really want to try harder to mend relationships, even when the fact that they're broken saddens me. W.hy t.he f.ace is wrong with me??

P.S. Alexander McQueen died?? I should have bought an item from the Target collab line...

buying my own chocolate

2010-02-09T22:34:00.001-08:00

I'm pretty sure I've posted this before, but these are my fave. Adorable packaging and quality product. And yums. Definitely yums.

sugarcoated tongues

2010-02-08T04:14:00.000-08:00

I realized I'm not too great at fighting distractions:

Finally got the guitar back, and couldn't resist playing at 3am even though I have (SO) much to do and my apartment mate was quietly studying on the other side of the wall...sorry, Stephani!
Learned how to post larger HQ images on Blogger, and then couldn't resist writing a whole new post to use my new useless piece of knowledge (instead of "max-width:560px", just put "max-width:100%" and delete the line under it - it works better).

It was my sister's birthday today (as in Sunday), and it's Jo(h)no's birthday tomorrow (as in Monday) - hence the cupcakes. It was nice because I had too much to study this weekend so my whole family came down to have my sister's birthday dinner at Phil's :) I missed being completely uninhibited and embarrassingly ugly with them. Pictures later? They took the camera back home before I remembered to transfer any.

Today I really wished I had a better knowledge of music and of guitar chords/notes/stufflikethat. I had two or three melodies I just couldn't find the right accompaniment for and had to settle for the usual...but oh wells. I should just set aside some time in the near future to study up on that.

Two things I'm really excited for:

next year's living situation with next year's living mates. I WANT A DOG. Dang you Costa and all the other nice La Jolla apartment complexes
CCM Cafe Night 2010 (Sarah Yang? Christine Jung? Yeyeyeyeyeeye)

Two songs I'm addicted to as of last night (a little behind, like always):

And I'm out. Tomorrow: sleep, study, eat, study, study, die...something like that.

a whole lotta lovin'

2010-02-02T22:09:00.000-08:00

for:

birthdays, birthdays, birthdays (sister, Johno, mother, Smelly, aunts...)
sunnier CA winters. Sorta.
Month of Prayer
2.5 days less than the average month
three-day weekends
jjajjangmyun? And cheesy love songs that don't in the least apply to you. Yay!

But at the moment, I just want one thing.

LET ME WEAR SHORTS WITHOUT FREEZING TO DEATH.

Today I made an "inspiration board", something I've been planning to do monthly ever since spotting this $1.99 bulletin board in Target, but haven't got to until now. Which was convenient, because it was the start of a new month and I would have hated to start in the middle! I sort of got the idea from the "month" pages Vogue and other magazines have, preceding all their bigger stories and editorial spreads (with quotes, inspirational pictures, themes, trends, etc.). I tried to put some things here that I wanted to look to for the month of February. I even broke my #1 magazine rule and ripped pages out of a NYLON issue (-gasp-). But I figured, what the hell. I never look at my old magazines too much, anyway :)

So among the things that made it to this month's board are: Garance Dore (amazing fashion photographer/blogger/artist and also Scott "The Sartorialist" Schuman's girlfriend), a cool hat and a mic (write more songs!), a baggy sweater, bright headphones, a watch (be on time!), cool couples that I'd rather look at then be a part of on Valentine's day ('tis the truth), and the all-time biggest reminder of my life.

I know it sounds cheesy, but it was super fun and easy to assemble (pushpins = no sticky fingers. HOORAY). Plus I figure it's a way for me to get those creative juices flowing every once in a while - since my visual arts class of the moment is complete B.ogus S.tuff., if you know what I mean. You should make one, too! Get on that $1.99 business. Yeeyee.

On a sadder note, my clothes smell like oil and must and other funky smells I have yet to find words for...why does taking a shower twice in one day make me so sad?! :(

I just like this font so much I don't care what the title is

2010-01-29T16:31:00.001-08:00

I feel stifled without the guitar right now, even though there are few things I could do with it...

Since Monday, after leaving my bible in Jon Min Choi's apartment (and missing multiple chances to pick it up), I realized I really missed and wanted to read the Word. And that I'm excited to get it back today at bible study. Sorry if that's not anything spectacular, it just is for me!

The first midterms of the quarter are coming up this week, and I'm especially scared for my Colonial Korean Lit class because of the seemingly nitpicky, UNNECESSARILY VERBOSE teacher. Maybe if I just add "if you like", "namely", "etcetera", "-ality", and "as such" (her favorite words/phrases) wherever they're least needed, I'll have a chance at one of those seven A's she gives out (in a class of forty...).

Thought I would just post up two pictures I found today of two things I love:

20's glamour

and pancakes. Dude. Pancakes.

the kill

2010-01-28T00:14:00.000-08:00

Just the usual, you know, takin a little procrastination-induced stress out on defenseless gummi bears...

Quite satisfactory.

On a serious note, I would like to take the rest of this post to say

It's already been a year since we've been strapped in bondage to each other through the blessing commonly known as "small group". Sure, we put our own...lengthy, obnoxious, 6-hour spin on it, but it is what it is and I LOVE it. Thank you for dealing with our not-so-sporadic wildness and our persistent questions about you and potential manfriends (it's all out of love, I promise!). I'm truly glad we have this one year to bother you a bit more :) I know we could have been much more slick - I guess the screaming and "CATHY YOUR SHIRT IS HERE" wasn't too convincing, huh - you know you love us. Here's to being in the two-digits, twenty two, and too too fabolous <3

1/29/2009...look at those young'uns.

1/27/2010: tada! And we're not even dressed in blue.

Gad, we're beautiful.

good morning.

2010-01-27T04:22:00.000-08:00

Today I was inspired by an old collaged notebook and a font. Or really, an idea of a font (I spent at least two hours looking for what I wanted).

Why I can't just stick with something is beyond me.

Also, I walked around in my sister's pink paisley rainboots all day, to the point where I was getting small blisters on my heels, and not a single drop fell until I was dropped off near my apartment at 10:30pm, by which time I had confidently changed into chucks and was without an umbrella. Ha, well, just you wait until next time RAIN, because I will be prepared for you! Rainboots, umbrella, coat and all. Hmph.

she's back!

2010-01-26T01:25:00.000-08:00

and I need to get my hands on this album.

Corinne Bailey Rae's single "I'd Do it All Again" from "The Sea", released on January 26, 2010.

(Press the play button on the bottom-left corner so you don't get directed to Myspace)

I finally got a polaroid camera!

2010-01-25T15:15:00.001-08:00

...naht. I did, however, get the Poladroid app (conveniently downloaded here), a surprisingly realistic "pholaroid" generator for the financially challenged and camera deprived. And also my latest obsession.

It even comes with the trademark "pachiiing" sound and lets you shake it with your mouse to help it "develop" faster! Now how cool is that?

reminiscing

2010-01-23T00:53:00.001-08:00

coolest book, ever.

2010-01-22T12:04:00.000-08:00

goals.

2010-01-21T00:56:00.000-08:00

One day, I want to compile a list of phrases that make you sound stupid when you use them (along with a "How to Detect Creepers" guide and "Grammatical Errors You Just Shouldn't Make", but let's take baby steps here).

I thought of one today:

"deep shit"

As in, "thas some deep shit right there, man, deep shit."

Mmmm. Yeah.

today, I

2010-01-20T00:47:00.000-08:00

was reminded that

secrets don't hide forever
procrastination is a b.
three hours of sleep is definitely not enough

was ashamed of

my past
my poor judgment
my poor financial skills
my irresponsibility
my callousedness to sin

was humbled by

family's unconditional love
God's even more unconditional love
forgiveness.

learned that

sometimes it's not all about me
I complain about being forgotten, but I always have the choice to call first

missed my first class of the quarter

let someone down

reconnected (?)

and gave it another shot.

How's that for a full day.

reflections (and blue balloons)

2010-01-18T17:37:00.000-08:00

"We covet others because we want others to covet us."

That really hit home when Pastor Paul said that during his first sermon, because I've been coveting others so. much. And now that the reason why I envy these people is out there, it sheds so much light on the ugliness of my own sin and my disgusting obsession with myself. I covet cute people because I want to be coveted for my cuteness. I covet talented people because I want to be coveted for my talent. I covet eloquent people (namely in my poetry class) because I want to be coveted for my eloquence. I covet pop-culture-savvy people because I want to be coveted for my savviness. I covet well-dressed people because I want to be coveted for my style. I covet impossibly beautiful people because I want to be coveted for my unattainable, flawless, unmistakable beauty, supermodel height, slender legs and flat-as-a-board stomach. I covet (sometimes) people in nauseatingly adorable relationships because I want to be coveted for being in one myself. I even covet people's humility. Isn't that ridiculous?!

As a result, I stare, I pine, I wish, I whine (practicing for my poetry class?). Even my recent failed relationships reflect this ongoing cycle: I'm hurt more when I can actually see that person grow increasingly close to others (They don't even know him/her, I know him/her so much better) and further away from me.

Our "theme" of small group last year (courtesy of Cathy Shin), "pride is the root of all sin", couldn't ring truer at this very moment. But more specifically, I find that I am continually battling this envy that somehow manages to creep into all areas of my life. O.K., most times not even "battling", but welcoming, embracing, and indulging.

I don't want to do that anymore. It's so tiring. It's exhausting, honestly, to constantly look around, trying to catch anyone who may look at me with the slightest glint of jealously in his eye. I want to be content with myself. I want to appreciate my imperfections and focus on improving through diligence and trust in God's grace, not zero in on the superficial "blessings" I so covet in others. Because I find that really, the times when I am most happy is NOT when I'm feeling like the most beautiful, talented, cute, eloquent, or fashionable person in the room, but rather quite the opposite. I'm most happy when, fully aware that I am NOT any of those things, I'm O.K. with who I am because nothing matters apart from the love of Christ, which I can (thank goodness) have in all my plain, lackluster glory.

In other news, I was feeling particularly morose last night, and when I decided I could no further degrade/torture myself with old Facebook photos, I thought I might try to cheer myself up. So I skimmed over my bookshelf looking for something that would make me smile in a nostalgic sort of way, and found my Paraguay journal. I read it cover to cover, from my "Day 0: 'I don't feel ready at all!'" entry to Tito's "I still laugh that your name is Emma" message. And I. missed. Paraguay. I'm so thankful for my somewhat diligent journaling even when it was 1:30am and I was delirious, because I was able to relive the laughs, emotions, struggles, and ephiphanies found in that country. Most of all, I was reminded of my love for the people there, and although I was a little disappointed in myself for forgetting so fast, it's never too late for prayer. In the words of Eva, "es muy sencilla aqui pero tenemos mucho amor [it's very simple here, but we have a lot of love]". I'm thinking about going again this summer, but we'll see how everything goes. After all, I really do need to put more effort into my long-distance relationship (with 2-year-old Elias. TE AMO <3333).

math I can handle

2010-01-10T18:02:00.000-08:00

via Pastor Harold:

Jesus + anything/everything = nothing
Jesus + nothing = Everything

milestones

2010-01-03T17:58:00.000-08:00

last photo I took with my beloved Powershot - not bad though, considering it has the love of my life in it, Joel Cutie Choi (left).

(and other less significant things that took place in 2009)

This past year, I:

locked myself out of my car four times
got sick 1948230948029384091 times
started writing songs
experienced God's work being done in Paraguay
got a new phone (milestone)
experienced small group lovin (miss)
lost trust in friends (meh)
stopped receiving NYLON (sadness)
discovered it was (very) possible for me to gain weight
drifted
decided I like baking
decided to stay at CPC
then decided to stay at Harbor
then realized that it wasn't so hard to go back every weekend because of classes/job
but then still decided to stay at Harbor anyway (phew)
got horrible grades and then some better grades (boring)
barely ever went shopping
overdrafted on my debit card twice
almost missed a final
got a job (gasp!)
got fired (oh.)
lived without a camera since May (sad.freaking.ness)
got closer with my family
changed

This year (2010 - why we don't have flying cars and robot servants yet I just can NOT understand), I want to:

study abroad
patch up my relationship with God. The - ra -py.
patch up my relationships with others, if possible
stop being gay/lazy/unreliable and answer texts/IMs/calls more promptly
get off my butt and try to exercise. Please.
refocus. Prioritize.
find my identity in Christ and not in how I look, what I do, or what I'm good at (how hard is this?!)
shower more ( ;) )
save up for a camera. Any camera. Please.
continue doing well in school (as in don't miss a final)
go to class? (question mark because this is highly improbable)
find another job
stay close with family
write more songs
stop locking myself out of the car so much. Actually, stop altogether. Please.

Why does my 2009 list look so bad? I promise I was trying to think of more positive things that happened, but couldn't come up with many =/ It was a weird year. Don't get me wrong; some great things did happen in 2009! I guess that despite the high hopes I had for it (<- this makes me seriously think I'm getting worse at writing. Or maybe just lazier), I'm just glad it's over. But the "10" in "2010" scares me! Where did the years go?! We grew up in the "naughties" - from the awkward, pre-teen, pubescent years to the turbulent, melodramatic "MY LIFE IS RUINED" adolescent years to the "I'm so mature now because I'm in college" (yeah right) years - it scares me that a decade's over already because it makes me feel old. How ancient are we gonna sound in the future when we talk about the "NINETEEN nineties" and the "zeros" to our kids?! I'm gonna feel like a fossil.

Anyway, I just feel bad for all the high school kids who graduate from here on out. "Oh-eight" just sounds so much catchier than "ten", don't you think?

Post Script-

You know what's funny? Apparently I made the same Jetson's reference in 2008. Embarrassing.

superficial question:

2010-01-02T23:09:00.000-08:00

Is it worth paying $50 for a shirt?

it's 2010!

2010-01-01T23:54:00.001-08:00

...and it don't feel nothin different.

(I really just wanted to post this before today was officially over. Pointless, I know.)

home for the holidays, p. 2

2009-12-27T21:53:00.000-08:00

I know it's a little late, but hope you were able to spend a wonderful Christmas with your families, friends, or whoever you ended up spending it with. I for one have been blessed with a lot of time (and little plans) to just spend with my family, curling up on the sofa to home videos, Mary Poppins, Food Network, and the like. I think, after being away from home more often this past quarter and with my sister finally back for good (?), I really got to appreciate and revel in the precious love of my family - something you really cannot find elsewhere, even in the closest of friends.

As we're drawing near to the close of not only a year, but a DECADE (when did that happen?!), I'm feeling all sorts of relief, nostalgia, fear, and excitement. I'm also a little burdened because something about the end of a year always makes me feel obligated to write some ginormous, heavy, reflective post about it, and I don't quite feel like doing that right now.

In fact, I'm already getting tired of talking so I'll just stop here and let the pictures do the the rest.

Did you really think I was going to finish this post about Christmas without mentioning baking?

For a gift for a couple friends as well as something to bring to our holiday family gathering at weh-harabuhji's, I spent the bulk of my Christmas Eve busily filling cookie tins with chewy molasses ginger cookies, raspberry thumbprint cookies, chocolate sugar cookies (with peppermint extract), spicy maple glazed walnuts, and a few of my mom's chocolate chip cookies. I used jumbo cupcake cups for the smaller cookies and walnuts and coffee filters for the bigger things.

And that, my friends, is how I spent my Christmas. Hope you all enjoy the rest of your holidays and break from school!

is it just me, or...

2009-12-21T21:19:00.001-08:00

do you always have the best hair right before you're about to sleep

does something in you tick when anyone laughs at your siblings (only I'M allowed to say that)

is it really cold this week

is shopping depressing

is urban outfitters being unnecessarily difficult

a somewhat boring post

2009-12-19T22:36:00.000-08:00

Grades came out. I finally got no C's this quarter (is it sad that I have to be happy about that?)! -_- Still could have done better I guess, but got to be thankful given the million mess-ups during the past few weeks.
This holiday season is weird. First time I'm not baking anything to bring on Christmas Sunday wrapped in tissue paper and cellophane. Barely any reasons to dress up in [nonexistent] party dresses. First time not going to a youth retreat since 10th grade. Christmas tree/house decorating times are off. Barely any shopping [barely any money]. Friends not home. Friends not friends? The weather's actually cold.
I need to get on the whole exercising bi'ness. Never really been my thing; I can't even remember the last time I legitimately ran a mile...9th grade physical fitness test?! This is sad.
Finally getting my guitar back tomorrow from my lovely apartment mate. Despite my lack of rockstar-ish skills, I must say I felt pretty handicapped without it to keep me company. I have about nine unfinished songs (from nearly done to one measly stanza) I want to work on over break for fun. To make me feel productive. Tehe.
I feel guilty that I'm not all that excited for Christmas this year, because it reveals that all the circumstances and little "traditions" surrounding it are what previously defined it.
Yawn. Time to sleep.
And because no post is complete without a picture:

Epic.

emiphany

2009-12-17T22:42:00.000-08:00

[emo ephiphany]

Nothing makes you feel quite as

lonely

as the *unloneliness

of someone else.

the villain in me

2009-12-14T01:19:00.000-08:00

I just spent the last four hours baking like a madwoman - to the point where my hands are dry from repeatedly washing my hands of eggy, buttery, sugary residue (which, my friends, is a telltale sign of me overdoing it).

Why?

Oh, I don't know, maybe it was the holiday craze speaking to me (You have free time and you're not baking?! What...what are you still doing sitting down! Gogogogogogo!), or the excessive hours spent goggling and drooling over shutterbean's various holiday treats, or the oh-so-convenient holiday baking display at Ralphs complete with cake flour and crystallized sugar, or my ever-expanding waistline (oh wait, not that).

Anyhow, I went a little overboard and made

chocolate sugar cookies (with red and green crystallized sugar)
matzo toffee brittle
olive oil muffins
banana muffins

(the latter two not holiday related at all, but just breakfast treats for the MAMMOTH TRIP TOMORROW)

(apologize for lack of pictures, as parents have taken the dslr with them to London for the week)

O.K., I realize when in list form, it looks pretty measly, but that measliness (invented word?) is so. deceiving.

The amount of butter I plowed through today was...horrendous. I mean, unspeakable. Outrageous. Scandalous.

Seriously, I don't even want to talk about it. It's...*shiver*

- And that's not even counting all the brown/white sugar and eggs (which was, btw, about seven)!

Yet I'm perfectly fine with handing out these satfat-laden goodies to my dearest of friends.

Which has made me realize -

I'm the most dangerous villain you'll ever meet.

wish I could write like this.

2009-12-12T11:33:00.000-08:00

confused.

2009-12-10T14:27:00.000-08:00

"As in all the churches of the saints, ³⁴the women should keep silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be in submission, as the Law also says. ³⁵If there is anything they desire to learn, let them ask their husbands at home. For it is shameful for a woman to speak in church."

1 Corinthians 14:33-35

I'm a little sad that the first time I encountered this verse (although I'm sure I read 1 Corinthians over before...) is in the cursed general education course that is M.M.W. (Making of the Modern World), but I'm confused. As Christian women, are we not allowed to speak up in the church or appeal to our pastors when we're questioning something? Can anyone help clarify?

buck teeth and pigtails

2009-12-08T17:34:00.000-08:00

Tan Hong Ming, take me on a date to a romantic dinn-uh <3

"for the last time,"

2009-12-07T19:07:00.000-08:00

via ilikeitshiny

she said, trying desperately to convince herself.

"You're overthinking it."

She sighed and took a deep breath. Closed her eyes and tries to remember 1 Peter 4:8.

You can do this. You can do this. Breathe out. O.K. There's sure to be some sort of explanation. Right? Right. There's always an explanation for everything. You're just blowing everything up. Like I said, you're just overthinking it.

She opened her eyes and sat upright in her seat, petrified - for that one thing, the only thing she feared the most would not leave her alone:

"What if I'm not?"

wouldacouldashoulda

2009-12-05T19:52:00.000-08:00

Grades are beginning to scare me.

I still don't have my act together =/ Who finds out they have a final an hour-thirty into the test...for an easypeasy class...and then finds out they got a pretty good grade on it, which means if they had time to study...okokokokokstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopit

Yes, I talk to my myself sometimes. Not enough, I'm afraid.

Why does the time in between Thanksgiving and Christmas never feel too Christmassy in college?

exhausted.

2009-12-02T22:16:00.000-08:00

How much

does it take for me to be pulled back into You?

So much, and I still can't let go.

eetsa me!

2009-12-02T00:53:00.000-08:00

via UrbanOutfitters.com...sold out :(

Gives "milk mustache" a whole new meaning, don't you think?

Kind of obsessed with milk-chocolate Flipz right now (more like dangerously rediscovered). How can you NOT be obsessed with chocolate-covered pretzels at any given time?!

Found this amusing on the back side of the bag; they just know:

So irresistible you'll make up excuses to eat 'em. What's your excuse?

"With all the holes, you can eat more."

"I had a light lunch."

"Why don't I take two in case I lose one."

Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of "I'm trying to write an eight-page paper right now and although I'll probably regret it come tomorrow morning, I really don't give a crap at the moment if happiness - manifested in a tiny pretzel immersed in chocolate - costs me a little breathing room." But hey, those work, too.

hmmm.

2009-11-30T17:25:00.000-08:00

Why does it seem like the best lyrics rarely ever make sense?

How do you begin to write lyrics that don't make sense to you?

need:

- better command of english language

- better knowledge of music

- illegal drugs for a whacked out brain allowing for nonsensical lyrical creations

Why can't my love for home ever last for more than a day?!

2009-11-28T17:49:00.000-08:00

It's like I'm always getting yelled at for something or another, and sometimes I really don't know what I could have done differently other than prevent what triggered that bad mood in the first place from happening, which is IMPOSSIBLE and I just have to feel annoyed and angry and caged up and all of a sudden I'm right back at my overprotected, pre-teenagered self. I don't understand. Aren't I 19? Why does it feel like no one else still gets treated like this?

My blog is becoming rather annoying for myself to read over - maybe I should create another one just for ugly rants like this and leave this one for the few times I feel all enlightened or inspired or giddy about something. But then I feel like the former would be updated so much more often a'lsdf

[fyi, in a matter of an hour so I'll probably be completely over this - I'm not an angry child, I promise!]

remember last year?

2009-11-27T12:27:00.001-08:00

Looking back, I can't help but feel a little jaded. What's real? What's lasting? What's pure?

At the same time, I know I could have tried harder...ok, yeah, I really could have.

But while I know what the only real, lasting, pure thing IS, I'm not even pursuing that with all my being. So...what am I doing.

This was really poorly written, sorry.