Me?

Today I realized.

No, I don't know what. Maybe one of me does (there are two). I was telling my friend Jason that I exist as a binary, except I didn't use such a pretty word. Often, the characteristics that are the dichotomy of Sarah are in conflict. Jason immediately offered an example, "Flesh and Spirit." This is true. Here are a few more:

Mother-er/ Child

She who longs for approval/She who doesn't give a rip

Academic/ Flake

Lover/ Failure

Rational/ Emotional

Emotional/ Caring

Liberal/ Conservative

Old-Fashioned/ Hand-shaker

Needy/ Needy

Sister/ Independent

Follower/ Leader

Hippie/ Sloth

Activist/ Exhausted

Learner/ Explorer

Traveler/ Homebody

Eh.

Midnight Meditations.

I know some wonderful people. I mean that literally: these people are absolutely full of wonder. Wonder the noun, of course. These are people who leave me at times speechless and in awe of the Lord’s handiwork. God has given these people passion and direction and has gifted them in honesty and discernment. Some are wise. Others have an intuition that I could never dream of having—they know how to care for others deeply and efficiently. Some are filled with emotion that permeates every aspect of their lives. I truly know some wonderful, wonderful people.

Tonight, despite the fact that I finished my reading an hour ago and was able to take a much-needed shower and clean up a smidge, I will only get a few hours of sleep. I had planned on writing a lot more—I have so much more to say, to express—but I am this very moment realizing that if I don’t sleep now the sermon Kate and I will listen to in the morning will be useless to me.

Goodnight (moon).

Forgetfulness is an agent of the soul.

Sometimes I forget what truth is. That is, I mistake it for something else and am disheartened. Tonight, as I contemplate a Shakespeare paper that should have been completed days ago, I find myself in the aftermath of my fore mentioned confusion and am frustrated. Why is it so difficult for me to be disciplined? Trust, Sarah, trust.

I've got language on the mind. Perhaps it is the horrid (quite wonderfully) social theory we've been assigned for Soviet class: language is neither solely the creation nor the creator of thought, but somehow a combination of both. Constative. Performative. Base. Superstructure. External Master. Truth-there it is again-Public Discourse. Metadiscourse. Mmm mmm mm, the sweetness of language!

Metadiscourse: An umbrella term for words used by a speaker or writer to mark the direction and purpose of a text; broadly defined as "discourse about discourse." Adjective: metadiscursive.

Speaking of language: I should get back to (slash start) Shakespeare. Thanks for the distraction.

A Heart Will Beat Passion.

Claiming rationality:

Caught in the appeal of argument-

Fair/Unfair/Untrue, definitions mean nothing-

You don't see the tears that hide behind my

Genuine Assurance.

Carefully subdued, but

You clearly don't know me.

Why do you insist on attacking my Truth?

Am I in need of an education?

Is your reality somehow more tangible,

Your death more meaningful in its futility,?

Does the repulsive history of man's sin

Somehow validate your point?

No. It augments mine.

When I pray, I pray action.

When I pray, my God listens.

The fact that you do not

Acknowledge Him

Does not make him any less

Real.

Snap out of it!

It's time for a deep breath. Then perhaps a shower. Then reading, reading, reading, reading, reading. Today has been a waste of a day. Really, it has. I'm not exaggerating the way you think I am.

In Andrey Platonov's "The Foundation Pit," a male character, weak and feeble-minded with ambition that later saw him dead, rejected some lovesick woman with a note,

"Once the table groaned with fare,
Now there's just a coffin there.
-Kozlov"

I didn't like Kozlov very much. But I thought his method of "disclaiming the responbsibility of love" (aka. dumping his girlfriend) was straight out of some Portland indie film. Or something. Oh the creative genius of 1930's, censored, Soviet writers. We all have pain, but they had lots.

Musings.

When I was younger, I dreamt of jumping head first into a cloud. From below, I perceived it to be made up of substance as soft as my mother's shoulder, as sweet as whipped cream and as dry and cool as slipping into the fresh sheets of a made bed. The luxury of submerging myself into something so largely wonderful is still appealing. This afternoon, there were scoops of cloud floating in the distance at a perfect contrast to the sky; white fluff suspended before layers of projector transparencies tinted blue with old Vis-à-vis remnant. Our God is an artist.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

There is a tapping in my dorm room wall, except now it is in my head: the tapping is real, it is just that the intensity of my annoyance is heightened by consciousness. I am sure that wasn’t grammatically correct. Anyway, this tapping makes it difficult to sleep. So, the last two nights have been spent in the beds of gracious, darling friends. I can’t, however, continue this way for the next two months. Ugh. I guess I will invest in some earplugs and hope that I will hear my alarm through them in the morning? That question mark was not appropriately placed.

I am really losing form, here.

Kristina and I watched 27 Dresses last night and talked and gave our life stories. Or… kind-of. I told her about my life pre-car accident and post. That is always a fun story. Just kidding, it sucks. It is true, though.

I filled out my housing form for Biola yesterday. It was super exciting and slightly nerve-wracking at the same time. Yikes. Big risk = big reward. That is the thing to remember.

“When you get down, there’s one thing to remember: there’s such a thing as trying too hard.”

I really am stoked to get down there. I get to study the word in an academic setting! How cool is that?! And I will totally meet people and make friends. No problem. Psh: easy as pie. (How convincing was that last part? I know it needs some work). Didn’t I write the other day about not stressing in regards to the future? I swear I retain this stuff. Really I do.