Filling Up

My group joined another group for Bible study tonight, and it was good. It's been a while since I truly studied the Bible. It reminded me of college. And for all of the time I spent in studies and small groups and ministries while in college, one would think I'd have a pretty sound knowledge of the Bible. The reality is quite the opposite. For some reason, it never stuck. Maybe because I just took what I wanted from it, whatever fit my emotional needs at the time. Maybe because I was afraid to ask questions and was more concerned about playing the part of this spiritually wise person who knew what I was talking about. Yeah--it was probably more that than anything. Lately, it's because I spend so much energy trying to figure out whether God is real or not that I never quite get to the other stuff. My thoughts just chase themselves around in a vicious questioning of faith leading to not much of anywhere except more discontentment, frustration and hostility.

So tonight we read and studied a couple chapters of Ephesians. I've always liked the words of the Bible though I often don't grasp their meaning. Sometimes the verses are beautifully worded but seem to say a lot without saying anything at all. It's just difficult to put everything in context and get what the authors were trying to express. And it's also difficult to not just pick out parts that sound pretty and apply them to your life as feel-good phrases.

Well, my "feel-good phrase" for the evening was in Chapter 2, verse 14 where it says, "For he himself [Christ] is our peace..." It hit home for me. Peace, fulfillment, contentment...all things I've been reflecting on and challenged with lately. I tend to run to things to feel validated, to make anxiety go away, to feel whole and needed: guys, work, having a full social calendar, being around lots of people, running in the mornings. All good things but all things that I know will ultimately still leave me with empty parts and unfulfilled longings. In church and all the "Christiany" things I did growing up, we were always told that Jesus is the one who fills us, gives us our identity, the ultimate healer and fulfiller of our deepest desires. Of course I want that. Who wouldn't? But what does it mean? What does it mean to let Him be our peace and fill us and all of that? It seems so abstract. No one ever seemed to get to that part of the equation. They just stopped at Jesus saves.

I guess I should just ask Him and see....

Mud Hoppers

I just spent the last 3 hours working on social work school applications, and I still have this freak-out feeling in my chest. I'm overwhelmed, but at the same time there's some sort of peace buried beneath all of this anxiety and doubting and whatever other crap is jumbled together inside.

The guy I've been dating a couple months broke it off yesterday. Which is fine. It was more mutual. For all of our points of connection, spiritually we just weren't headed down the same road. And the thing is, it's no one's fault. It just is. And it's hard to understand why God is real to some people and not to others. And how individuals can be so connected in vision but not in heart. It's just hard. So I'm going to have my brief pity party and move on. Because that's what you gotta do.

For all the stress and emotion, I never imagined I'd actually get this far in the application process. I like to talk about and think about things a lot, and the panic of actually doing them is quite often paralyzing. Sometimes it makes no sense, but that is just my reality, and at some point I decided to pick one foot out of the mud and then the other and so on and so forth. And so I'm gonna keep truckin' on and writing about it and doing what I need to do to not stay stuck. Tomorrow is another day.

Keepin' it Light

I think my blog entries are kind of depressing. Yikes--who knew I was such a Debby Downer?
In other news, what I should really be doing right now is working on my grad school essays, but I'm not. I'm procrastinating just like I did last night and the night before and the week before and...

Who the hell wants to answer a questions like this:

"Discuss what makes a small group or team a successful community. Discuss a situation in which a small group or team you were a part of succeeded or failed and what significant learning you took away from the experience."
lame.
I think a successful team is full of sharing, caring, butterflies, roses, rainbows and cute puppies. One time this girl in my girl scout troupe beat me out as the top cookie seller. What I learned from this defeat is that kids should sell their own cookies and not mooch off their parents' professional connections.

"What are your short-term and long-term professional aspirations?"
My short term goal is to make it through the work day tomorrow without asking myself even once, "What am I doing here?"
Looking long-term, I would like to feel like I'm actually serving some sort of deeper purpose at least one day of the work week. I've also always been pretty proud of my stellar gift wrapping skills and have often dreamed of making it to the big time as a professional gift wrapper at Macy's, the mecca of retailers. As you can see, I am a pretty ambitious individual.

"What significant personal and/or professional factors have most informed your present outlook?"
Professionally, I have found the "real world" to be quite overrated which makes me the perfect candidate for grad school. On a more personal level, being introduced to mac & cheese at such a young age has proved to be a life changing event. It is probably the greatest food ever invented and my outlook on life indeed would not be as cheese-tastic without it.

...and who says I'm not productive?

To Be Known

When the going gets tough or sad or lonely or any sentiment in that general direction, why does my flight instinct always seem to trump the fight one? Sometimes I am just tired of being around people who don't understand me, who don't share my vision or even want to talk about theirs. Sometimes I am just tired and want to breathe and not to feel like showing my true colors is such a relentless upstream battle. Sometimes I just want to feel known more than the instant I come home at the end of every day. Sometimes I wish those around me would share my longing to be connected with them on the most human of levels. Sometimes I want to see with lenses of redemption to trump the stale and the cold. Sometimes I wish that every time and place was appropriate for depth to be revealed...and most times I wish for possessing no concept of appropriate.
Often I hope to be truly free.

Uncovering Truth

Sometimes I just get into these moods where I'm frustrated and hyper-critical about everything and nothing in particular. I've been on this kick lately about people acting fake. It's like I notice it in one person and all of a sudden the whole damn city seems full of phonies to me. Even at church. I take that back....most especially at church. The thing is, I do love people on an individual level. I mean, we're all human and we have pasts and cool stories of redemption and funny quirks and all that stuff. But sometimes in the collective, people just act straight up ridiculous and I just want to shake them and say, "cut the bullshit already!"

And in New York especially I just feel like people can't relax. Everyone's got to put on their cool face and look sharp and speak intellectually and exude whatever it is they think they should be. It can be absolutely exhausting.

Tonight at church, the sermon was about marriage and the man and woman's roles within that context, and I like what he had to say but at the same time felt a little bit discouraged. I don't think that very many people in this city have faith in marriage, and sometimes I'm not sure I do either. I mean, in theory I think I do. But I also think that people are inundated with so many bad messages about marriage (among other things), they're unable to wrap their minds around its goodness. I don't know why that makes me sad, but it does. People here are so hardened. Maybe everyone is, I just think it's here because this is where I happened to land when the scales of idealism finally fell from my eyes.

Being

So on Tuesday I called in sick (which I really was) and was a bit struck by the anxiety/guilt/whatever you wanna call it I felt at the prospect of having nothing to do. I logged into my work e-mail account only to quickly sign off upon realizing that the whole point of taking a sick day is to rest and not work. But what is it that 1.)makes us feel guilty for not being "productive"? and
2) causes anxiety and maybe even a slight loss of self when there is nothing to busy ourselves with? Is it an American thing? A human thing? A cultural/environmental thing? I'm not exactly sure, but it made me think of a couple books by Christian authors that I've read in the past few months. Here's what they had to say about this issue:

"There are many layers to the healing of the soul. One practice that has brought incredible healing is the taking of a Sabbath...I have learned the real issue behind the Sabbath isn't which day of the week it is but how we live all the time.

I decided to start taking one day a week to cease from work. And what I discovered is that I couldn't even do it at first.
I would go into a depression.
By the afternoon I would be so...low.
I realized that my life was all about keeping the adrenaline buzz going and that I was only really happy when I was going all the time. When I stopped to spend a day to remember that I am loved just because I exist, I found out how much of my efforts were about earning something I already have.
Sabbath is taking a day a week to remind myself that i did not make the world and that it will continue to exist without my efforts.
Sabbath is a day when my work is done, even if it isn't.
Sabbath is a day when my job is to enjoy. Period.
Sabbath is a day when I am fully available to myself and those I love most.
Sabbath is a day when I produce nothing.
Sabbath is a day when I remind myself that I am not a machine.
Sabbath is a day when at the end I say, "I didn't do anything today," and I don't add, "And I feel so guilty."
It is so hard to look deep inside yourself. My experience has been that very few people do the long, hard work of the soul.
- Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith

"If I try to hold still, my soul reacts like a feather in the afternoon breeze, flitting from place to place without purpose or direction. Theologians refer to this condition as "ontological lightness," the reality that when I stop "doing" and simply listen to my heart, I am not anchored to anything substantive. I become aware that my very identity is synonymous with activity.
In order to learn who we really are, we must have a place in our lives where we are removed from the materialism, entertainment, diversion, and busyness that the Vanity Fair of our society and culture immerse us in. As we leave these less-wild lovers behind and enter into solitude and silence in our own desert place, the first thing we encounter is not rest, but fear, and a compulsion to return to activity. In The Ascent to Truth, Thomas Merton says,
'We look for rest & if we find it, it becomes intolerable. Incapable of the divine activity which alone can satisfy...fallen man flings himself upon exterior things, not so much for their own sake as for the sake of agitation which keeps his spirit pleasantly numb...[The distraction] diverts us aside from the one thing that can help us to being our ascent to truth...the sense of our own emptiness.'
Brent Curtis & John Eldredge, The Sacred Romance

Today I've eaten breakfast with my roommate, played with my cat, and talked politics and other things with my dad over the phone. It's almost 3:00 on a Saturday afternoon, and I am still sitting in bed in my pajamas. It's a beautiful day, the sun is streaming through my windows and yet I don't feel in any sort of rush to be anywhere or do anything. That, my friends, is a Sabbath well spent.

Stepping Out

I recently settled upon the fact that I work for the weekends.  And now I am coming to terms with the fact that the weekends are just too short of a thing to be working for.  I'm torn between being unchallenged in my current role and being fearful of the stress that comes with added responsibilities.  I've been down that road before, and it was too much and I quit.  Something tells me it's time to stop being such a wuss and just trust that I won't fall apart at the prospect of a challenge.  

I've been reading My Sister's Keeper (Jodi Picoult) and found a bit of hope in these few lines of thought from a dad about his family's trials:

"It seems remarkable that while one of our daughters is leading us into a legal crisis, the other is in the throes of a medical one--but then again, we have known for quite some time that Kate's at the end stages of renal failure...it is Anna, this time, who's thrown us for a loop.  And Yet--like always--you figure it out; you manage to deal with both.  The human capacity for burden is like bamboo--far more flexible then you'd ever believe at first glance." 

Maybe it's time to step out and start thinking of myself more as bamboo rather than a fragile piece of porcelain or a twig that may snap in half at the slightest weight.  Maybe it's time to trust something bigger than myself.    

Happy Anniversary

Today marked my 4 year anniversary of making the big move from Texas to New York City.  4 years...who would have thought?  Certainly not me.  In celebration of this milestone, Kari and I trecked to our old neighborhood (the East Village) to dine at Sidewalk Cafe which was the very first place she took me to eat when I first moved here.  Awww...how romantic (or something like that).  I still remember what I ordered that long ago (a California burger) and what I was wearing (jeans and a sleeveless black shirt).  I'm really good at taking mental snapshots wherever I am, though I do realize it's a bit freakish to remember what you or anyone else was wearing at some random event 10 years ago.  My memory is a superpower, what can I say?

Tonight was the first time either of us have gone back to the East Village since moving out last month.  I love Brooklyn, but I must say we were both surprised by how much we miss the 'hood.  But I guess it makes sense that if you park yourself somewhere for 4 years after making a dramatic move, it's bound to have some sticking power.  It just becomes a part of you somehow.  And that's good.  Missing something is good because it means you invested. 

To finish our evening of celebrating city life we (naturally) watched a couple episodes of Sex & the City.  All hype and touristy crap aside, Manhattan does have a sort of magic about it.  I both love and hate it in the same breath.  At lunch I ate on the roof deck of my office building where I could see the Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty while downing my Cheetos and turkey sandwich.  Indeed there is no other place like this on earth.  f

Value

Reflection is an art...that adds value--more like, extracts the value--from minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years and...a lifetime.  I've delved into this art as of late and like what I am finding:  connection.  

Mr. Buckley made us turn in a journal entry every single day for a semester in high school with our high point and low point.  We hated him for it, but really loved him.  He knew the value in the art...of reflection.  

I think that my grandpa may be dying, but I don't know what I feel or if he is really dying. Disconnected because I'm not there and unsure of the closeness of our relationship and unable to deal with the inability of that side of the family to confront these sorts of matters.  I need to reach him in my own way.  I'm just not sure what that is.  I need to think.

My best friend told me today that I won't find a man in New York.  She was halfway sarcastic seeing as those statements are part of her ploy to get me back to Texas.   But it might be kind of true.  I mean, there's gotta be someone I'm into who's not off the market already.  I fear my "type" may not be a breed that flourishes in the big apple.  Not really sure where that leaves me (besides single).  

I walked 8 miles today exploring Brooklyn.  My feet hurt. 

Playground

Tonight my roomate Josh and I took a late night walk to drop Moni off at the train and do a bit of exploring in the 'hood.  We ended up at the playground by my apartment, and for a second I felt like a kid again climbing the monkey bars, going down the slide and attempting (in vain) to do a chin-up.  I always freakin' hated in middle school when chin ups were part of the physical education test.  Umm, hello...some of us have giraffe length arms and have a longer distance to hoist ourselves.  But whatever--I'm over it.  

Anyways, now I'm all excited about this park because it has a basketball court.  Not that I'm a hardcore street baller or anything, but it'd be nice to get out a shoot a few hoops for old times sake.  I think I'll go buy a basketball after work tomorrow.  I love living in Brooklyn cuz it's kinda suburban (for New York, that is) and kinda city.  It's just nice to have space and simple luxuries like a grill and a linen closet.  I've been breathing so much easier this past month.  I don't think I fully realized how uptight I've felt the past four years until I moved.  4 years of not feeling relaxed--that is somethin' else.  People here are just normal folk, ya know.  They grew up here and don't care so much about being in any kind of scene besides whatever action is going on over at the neighbors stoop.  I dig that--just normal stoop folk doin' their normal everyday thing.  I dig feeling more relaxed and being a little bit of a kid again.  Yeah, Brooklyn is a good new era.  

Happenings

Hmmm...lots to say but nothing to write.  This is where I went this weekend:

Montauk=my happy place.  It is beautiful and tranquil and one of the most healing places I know.

This is my new haircut:

I dig it.  Hope you do too.  

And this is my new neighborhood.  More specifically, the annual West Indie Day Parade that went down today right on my block.  Jerk Chicken & Meat Patties anyone?

                   

These are the things I'd rather be doing tomorrow than work:

- laundry

- going back to Montauk

- decorating my apartment

- escaping reality

And on that note...my life in pictures shall be continued on another day.  Whoever is still reading this, please drop me a line.  I miss you!

Sacred

"Religion is not primarily about God, but about the human need for the sacred...moments that stand outside time, in which the loneliness and anxiety of the human individual is confronted and overcome through immersion in the group."

- Roger Scruton

Connected

Community makes me feel sane and connected---and I like that. That's all. Goodnight.

Sad

Heaviness that weighs
Wishing it a phase
That passes...
But it stays
And stays
And stays

Yearning for a solid
Truth
But it is not out there
It is here
it is here
It is here

Engage
Quarrel like lovers
and conquer
conquer
free...

Real

I like that I have a blog--until I go back and actually read it--at which point I say to myself, "What the hell was I thinking? And why did I think what I was saying at that time was all deep and sentimental?" Quite frankly, I am often embarrassed by my own thoughts, or maybe just my lack of eloquence.

I went to a concert tonight for this guy named Thad Cockrell. He's a high-voiced folksy country singer-songwriter type who carries a particular depth to his art that adds a very real texture to his words and demeanor. It's as if he were on stage singing songs more for his own sanity than anything.

He talks about Jesus in one song, and I thought about how a lot of folks (especially where I come from) would think he was an artist to celebrate even if his music were shitty (which it isn't) just because he gave a shout out to this religious figure.

...Which made me ponder my own allegiance to Jesus and the Christian faith and why I believe the things that I do. And, at the end of the day, I do not have faith because the historical evidence points to the existence of a God man and the accuracy of his miracles. Nor do I have faith because I was always taught it's a good thing to exercise. I'm fairly certain I have faith in the existence of something higher than myself simply because I want to. I want to believe there's a better hope than what's around me and what's inside of me and that one day all of the broken parts of myself and this world will be made whole. And that's really it. Sometimes that's all I've got to get me out of bed in the morning.

Silent Night

I have the apartment to myself for the next week, and so far I feel like a teenager whose parents have left for vacation-- freedom! Not that Kari acts like my mom or anything, it's just nice being as loud and naked as I want. Umm....so let's see, here's what's been going on:

Job-- was having a bad attitude for a while, but then I started to get my ass in gear a bit more and continue to find more redeeming things about working in HR. Plus, it pays the bills and allows me to have a social life, so how bad can that be, right?

Social-- it has been a holiday season of visitors and me being spoiled by family members who've come in town. After the mad Thanksgiving rush of visitors I've had some time to do normal things like come home right after work, go running and cook dinner. Good times. I felt very artsy fartsy this weekend as I went to a musical on Friday night called Serenade, and the Juilliard end-of-semester dance performance last night. My Texas crew (Jules, Kari, Sarah, Moni) are all still here and keeping me grounded.

Spiritual/Mental-- I've actually been trying out some daily spiritual disciplines, mostly stemming from a recent surge of anxiety that came pretty much out of nowhere. I'm reading a book called Exchange Your Worries for God's Perfect Peace which I know sounds like some completely cheesy book one might order from an infomercial. But it's helped remind me of who God is in the midst of feeling un-anchored. I haven't been real big on church attendance lately, but am still very committed to my small group that meets weekly.

Travel-- It has been the month-o-travel as I've been to Texas twice for friends' weddings (Christian & Carlos) with a stop in Vegas in between. Grandma definitely won more money than I did on the slots. I think I would like to finally cross an ocean at some point in 2008. Oh yeah, and I'm heading to Texas next Saturday, so hang out with me!

Men-- Still find myself having totally unrealistic crushes and going on lots of dates that don't amount to relationships. That seems to be the New York way--though still holding on to the hope that I will eventually meet someone I'd want to write home about. In the meantime, I've actually learned a lot from every guy that I've been out with, not just about the other person but about myself (primarily my dating weirdnesses) and how to navigate uncomfortable conversation topics and differing perspectives...so that's all good and I have no regrets.

Reading-- I am currently reading Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, and it is fabulous so far. I am also a new subscriber to Rolling Stone magazine.

Christmas Shopping-- I have not done this yet and should probably get on that.

Ok, I am running out of topics. Nighty night.

Urban Retreat

Without planning, I managed to show up at the Hudson River just in time for sunset tonight. And, man did I need a sunset. I was attempting to go to Montauk today to be at one with nature, but I managed to sleep through all the trains, so that didn't quite work out. My insides have been screaming for a change of scenery lately, which is why I decided to embark on my East to West walk across Manhattan this evening. Sometimes I think God just leads us to things we need to see...and today it was this piece of serenity in the insanest of cities.

My second urban retreat of the day was a diner on the Upper West side followed by a stroll through Barnes & Noble and a final stop at my local coffee shop, Cafe Pick-Me-Up, for a little late night reading. It was no Montauk, but one of the more relaxing days I've had in the city in a while. Tomorrow I'm headed to the North Fork of Long Island to check out the wineries, then Thursday it's Las Vegas or bust to meet up with the mom, aunt and grandma.

Today was the first time I've written for a long while. I wrote at the diner, the coffeeshop and here for the web-surfers' eyes. It seems the floodgates have re-opened. I've had a season of feeling uncreative and stifled, but perhaps that is drawing to a close. Most of what I wrote today was me trying to understand my reasons for living here. Let's be honest, it's been a love-hate relationship from the get-go. It was a tough go at first, and then I began discovering New York's more redemptive qualities: summertime, the East Village, the wear-whatever attitude....so we've shared some long embraces, the City and I. Today was about hashing out the negatives-- those which can be reconciled and those which cannot:

I've concluded that there is a minimum square footage that determines a healthy living space for an individual. Though I don't know the exact number, I am certain my apartment's surface area falls short of it. This ongoing issue of 3+ years will most certainly be reconciled come July 31st when our lease expires and we go in search of more space and less rent in Brooklyn.

There are a few strategic areas (and I fear this number is growing) of the City which exist only to be whored out to tourists. Yes, I did use the word whore because that is how strongly I feel about the matter. These include Herald Square (where my job happens to be located), home of the world's most ginormous Macy's and other supersized retailers; Time Square, home to all things cheesy, commercial and straight up ghetto; Little Italy, where one would be hard-pressed to find any traces of authentic Italian cuisine and is soon to be overtaken by it's neighboring superpower, Chinatown. Even my own neighborhood seems to be changing overnight. I am starting to feel like the old-timer around these part at the ripe old age of 25. Streets that most up-towners had never even heard of before are now home to ultra hip clubs with lines of ultra cool hipsters waiting to get in on "the scene". I first took notice of all these happenings when my favorite neighborhood coffee shop, Lalita Java, became a Cuban restaurant literally overnight. It freaked me out. Lalita was a neighborhood staple and had been for nearly 10 years, long before I ever lived around these parts and long before people were even brave enough to venture into this area. For those unaware of the East Village's history, it has been the longtime home to drug addicts, squaters, protestors...a neighborhood deeply rooted in rebellion and an appreciation of art (think "Rent").

The question I mulled over today is, "Is this a negative that can be reconciled?" I do not know. On the one hand, change is inevitable, especially in New York City. I remember the tour guide on my Circle Line Cruise once said, "If you don't like New York, just wait a couple years"....making light of it's transcient nature. I was deeply moved by something I read in Tuesdays With Morrie several months ago. He pointed out that every culture has it's problems and that a lot of people run away looking for better only to find a whole new set of problems. The key, he says, is to press in and create your own culture wherever you are. He also said that it's difficult and most people can't do it. I wonder if I've done that here or if it's just too difficult. I wonder if that will ever even happen on a mass scale here. I wonder if my back and forth of "unsettledness" is an indication I simply do not fit this lifestyle or that the best is yet to come. Or maybe it is simply that my idea of God working through me is not the same as His. Will me "loving my neighbor" really help ignite a greater sense of ownership and authenticity here? Is that really even the point? I am unsure. One thing I am certain of is that my place here has little to do with my career, my experiences, my cultural saavy and everything to do with loving and investing in those around me. Ironically, I only recently figured that out.

Lately I've grappled with the alternative, which would be moving back home, to Texas, probably Austin. There are many things I miss about my home state. My family is one of them. But when I think about leaving New York I can't deny the saddness I feel. This is where I have grown up as an adult, if that makes sense. What determines when it's time? Or will it ever be time? The thought of leaving and staying equally freak me out. So, for now I'm going with Morrie's theory-- don't run away. stay. create your own culture.

Book Smarts and Radical Grace

So sad to see my long 4-day weekend come to a close. I didn't really get around to half of the things on my ambitious list of adventures to partake in, but overall I feel rested....and resting is what weekends are for. It's funny because I always have grand ideas of activities I want to do and places I want to explore in NYC and beyond, and yet when it comes down to it, one of the most fulfilling things I end up doing with my time off is sitting in the park and reading. Simple pleasures always seem to win out in the end.

Today I just finished Unhooked by Laura Sessions. It's basically about the hookup culture of my generation and how it's disabling us from developing authentic, healthy romantic relationships with the opposite sex. I do agree with her on many points, and the facts are quite disturbing. But I see such a different model for relationships among Christians (not that they're perfect either), that it keeps me hopeful there will still continue to be models of true love rooted in complete respect for another. And, at the book's end, the author does point out that those with spiritual roots are less likely to take part in to the hookup culture...so that's that. If she would have just interviewed me from the get go, I probably could have helped her come to that conclusion a little earlier in the game.

I may love buying new books as much as I love the actual reading of them. I found two books to purchase at a local garage sale (or I guess I should say "street sale" as Manhattan is not conducive to people having actual garages) and was ready to offer 10 bucks for the both when the Puerto Rican gentleman informed me it would be $2. "Each?", I asked. "No, one dollar per book", he replied. I had no idea deals like that even existed in this city. Needless to say, I was beaming all the way back to my apartment with my two classics in hand: Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar, and Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man.

The irony of my love for reading is that, at the end of the day, I never feel quite book smart enough to be living here. I was especially aware of this at a BBQ I went to today....lawyer on my right, finance guru on my left, architect across from me. I didn't feel like I had much to contribute to the conversation. I know I'm intelligent, just not in the same way as a lot of the people here. They are intellectuals. I have social smarts. I know that's ok, but it seems Northeasterners tend to value the former more than the latter, which often leaves me frustrated and sometimes disconnected feeling. It's almost like the people in this city are so accustomed to having to produce to feel accepted, to "prove" they have something to offer as if what's already there is not enough. I can better sympathize with the struggle my cousin faced in her two years of grad school here....always sensing the value she held to her classmates depended on the quickness of her responses in the classroom, the depth of her opinions, and often, the liberalness of her views. I pray that others would never feel like they have to "try" in my presence....that they would feel free to just be.

Maybe that is why God's grace is so difficult to accept....because we are so used to striving for others' approval that we cannot imagine someone loving us simply for being alive.

I've Been Tagged

The Rules:
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Here are my 8 random factoids:

1. I love bologna....I think I'm the only person who still orders the cold cut trio at Subway. When I was younger, my dad used to heat it up in a frying pan for breakfast, and I'd put it on my English muffin...to die for.

2. I took karate for 3 years in high school and got all the way to brown belt, so I guess you could say I have ninja skills (though secretly I don't really remember much of what I learned). I do remember that my favorite move was that mantis hand....supposedly your hand looks like a praying mantis when you do it. If you're lucky, I'll demo for you sometime.

3. I'm currently wearing a lovely black velcro boot on my foot that looks like a flipper one might wear to go scuba diving (only a bit shorter). I somehow managed to get a stress fracture, so I've been hobbling around NYC for the past few weeks....I'll post a pic of this lovely fashion accessory on my next blog.

4. I still think picking my boogers (not in public, of course) is a really rewarding practice.

5. Ever since seeing the movie Space Camp in 3rd grade I wanted to be an astronaut. Seriously, all the way through high school...until I realized I'm not so great at physics and engineering (which, according to my high school teacher, is what one needs to study to become an astronaut)

6. Sometimes I pretend my life is a movie, and I think about exactly how I want each scene to be played out.....keeps things interesting.

7. If I could sing like a black woman, I'd totally be in a gospel choir (lead, of course)

8. I have never seen The Princess Bride (which, apparently, makes me un-American or something)

Ok, those are my factoids. Here are the peeps I'm tagging: Asian Kate, Fens, Luke, Alex (4 will have to suffice b/c I can't think of anymore people w/ blogs)

Sweaty Sunday

This is a picture I took of my sweaty self today after running 6 miles....that's right, 6 miles. Ok, so for some of you olympic athletes 6 miles is a mere jog in the park, but I think it's a lot....especially in the heat of the day, especially while breathing in the exhaust fumes from New York's FDR Highway.

So, basically I posted this picture:
1) so that you would feel sorry for (and proud of me) for all that running and
2) because I've never posted a pic on my blog and felt like today was as good a day as any to get started.

And to have an excuse to advertise that I'll be running the NYC Half Marathon on August 5th. Yikes, that's only a month away...and to think the distance I ran today was only half of the real thing. My lungs are collapsing just thinking about it. But for realz, if you are in the area (or want an excuse to be in the area) come on out at 7 am to cheer a sister on.