Where the air is dirty but life is good.

The end is near. I can feel the sweet, clean air of Portland lightly brushing my skin. I can taste the water, straight from the faucet, clear and cold as it washes all taste from my tongue and throat. I can see the rivers, the mountain, the ever green trees, grass, sword ferns.

But I am here, where the air is dirty but life is good. I've learned a great deal this semester about myself, about those around me and about my God. Maybe when I get home and I don't have a considerable amount of Russian staring me in the face I will write about it. An end-of-semester-reflection, if you will?

California, how did I come to love you?

Art Nouveau has taken over my life.

I cannot get over this art. I love the intricacy and the sharp, feminine contrast. Oh me, oh my. I've decided that when I get a tattoo it will take after this movement. Matthew 6, art nouveau style? I think so.

Beardsley, 1872-1898

Aubrey Beardsley, 1895

Maurice Pillard-Verneuil, 1869-1942 

George Auriol, 1863-1938

George Auriol, 1863-1938

Alphonse Mucha, 1898

Gustav Klimt, 1917-1918

My friends see art.

In the sunshine and to the smell of smoky grill.

And they are tired and the need to be led.

As of tomorrow I will have exercised my body every day for a week. I feel sore, strong and motivated. My attitude toward self is still poor, but I have faith that God is doing a work in me. I intend to continue placing my mind on things of heaven and not on things of the flesh. I intend to continue praying honestly and under grace. I'm swimming in grace.

Today in Fives chapel, Dr. Todd Pickett showed us two jars that normally sit on his office desk. Each jar contained sand, settled at the bottom, with clear water resting above it. As a metaphor for the muddiness of our lives, Pickett shook one of the jars so that the sand made the water brown and murky. He then informed a packed room that it would take three days for the sand to settle at the bottom of the jar. It takes three whole days after any trauma inflicted on the jar for the water to become clean and clear again. This is how I feel. My water is murky, but I know that the sand will settle - that God is working gravity out to my advantage.

Further documentation.

Let it always be known that I was who I am.

Sarah and Emily went on an adventure this evening. They dressed themselves in black and made masks out of paper bags from Trader Joe's (just being _____ conscious!). They wore pins in their hair and enjoyed each other's company. The tiny apple pie was never consumed, but apple cider proved a satisfactory choice.

Sarah and Emily are excited to learn and grow together.

Two months passed.

Junji Kurokawa/AP

A Japanese soldier walks through a flooded path in a port area in Kesennuma, May 11, 2011.

Thanks for the encouragement, dear.

"There's a difference between a failure and a fiasco. A failure is merely the absence of success. Any fool can achieve failure. But a fiasco, a fiasco is a disaster of epic proportions. A fiasco is a tale told to make other people feel more alive because it didn't happen to them."


-Elizabethtown