Oh very young, what will you leave us this time?

No, I still haven't finished Joshua. I keep getting incredibly tired whenever I sit down to read. Or my neck will hurt. Or I will get a text message. Or... You get the point.

So, I made french press and turned on some Cat Stevens to try and put some of this into perspective. Cat asked me, "And if you want this world to see better days, will you carry the words of love with you?" I thought, "Well, good question, Cat. I should probably keep reading those words of love - they ARE being written on my heart (for the Bible tells me so). Thanks for the perspective, my very-confused-yet-musically-talented-brother-of-the-human-race."

Yesterday, I followed the ways of my beautiful friend Emily and went "no-poo" (hippie internet term, not Emily's). This is AWESOME. This doesn't meant that I never wash my hair, what it means in my case is that I am now washing my hair with a paste of baking soda and water. Let me tell you something, the stuff works. My hair was thicker, fuller, clean and full of shine. Seriously, I am hooked. Now, I am a bit concerned that my hair will dry out, so I will either continue to use my regular conditioner or I will experiment with a diluted vinegar scented with essential oils. I am opting for the latter at this point because I would like to get away from the processed chemicals and such that make up so much of the products that we put on our bodies. Watch out, I am moving one step at a time but next thing you know I will be making my own soap and deodorant.

Okay, it's 1 PM: time to revisit Joshua.

Redolence.

Madeline and Jacob came home today. Things are a little less lively around the house when they are at their Mom’s, so it is always nice to have them back. The back door was open when I returned home from work and the late afternoon sunshine was spilling in. I managed to convince an ever-willowy Madeline to go on a run with me while Papa Bear prepared corn on the cob and the trout that he and the kids had just returned from catching.

My favorite nights with my family are nights such as this. Even though we were missing two (it seems like we always are), the summer evenings spent sitting at our kitchen table with cloth napkins left over from the wedding four years ago, eating and sharing stories are pictures I will always treasure.

Now Jake sits wide legged reading a lego magazine by the kitchen light and Maddi sits in Joe’s lap giggling at her father’s recycled humor. Mama is naturally doing laundry. The evening light is fading and I am feeling decidedly poetic. Perhaps you have noticed. I am thankful for this. God has blessed me with quite the family and such a youth that I can only hope to provide for my children. It is not without it’s trial, and for that I am also thankful.

It is easy, in this moment, to find joy in trial and temptation. It is easy, in this moment, to rejoice in the building of perseverance and in the majesty of God who, in his infinite wisdom and depth, is all that He is wholly and fully. It is easy, in this moment, to worship. I wish I could bottle this moment and wear it as perfume.

On a bench at Main City Park.

Last night was a pleasant one. As stressed as I am about my summer classes – you know, doing them right…or getting them done at all – I still manage to find time (if only for a few minutes) to be with people I love engaging the lungs in activities controversial (talking, of course). In the midst of memories and reenactments galore I am struck by the picture that if taken of us would hang framed on my wall, or stamped in my mind to be discovered on some future date when I had long forgotten the joys of youthful community and unhealthy habits and voiced, inexperienced perceptions of love, life and marriage. Four people arranged on a bench, observing the behavior of rabbits that hop vapidly across the horseshoe lanes out of sight and laughing together in communal enjoyment of something to do with their hands while they talk. These are nights I hope to remember.

There is something oddly poetic about everyday life that cannot be explained in naturalistic terms. Tease me all you want guys, (Nico, Matt and Adam), but my tendency toward the dramatic is an expression of love for you.

You know this.

I have never been all that good at telling things exactly how they are. I try to leave things out and remain a mystery, but I usually say too much. I throw people under the bus or I share inappropriately personal nuggets that are really meant for much larger, deeper conversations then just a "Hey, how are you doing?" Yikes.

I am still working on my Genesis homework. Which is, you know, great because I just keep learning stuff. Like that God is faithful. Like really, really faithful. My creative writing professor would have a problem with that last sentence. She says that people today don't use strong enough adjectives. I agree with her, but I am also lazy. Anyway, God is faithful. Also, my sister's friend is really sick. In fact, she is in the hospital. This stresses me out because, as old as my sister and her friends think they are (and I felt the same way at their age), they are little girls and I don't want my little girls to be sick.

What is funny is that when I was in high school I felt like I was rather grown up, but when I step back and look at myself now, I feel unbelievably young. I look at how much of my life I have completed, nearly 20 years, but I feel like a little baby: I don't feel ready for the world. In fact, I would like to redo childhood, please. Heck, I would like to redo today, please. And go to grammar school, apparently.

Sometime in November

I want to be that which inspires.

See a face red with laughter and realize this could be the future-

Yours. Not every verse has to be romantic: you know this.

You know that not everyone knows what is right and

Sometimes the cowboy kills the bad guy out of spite

And finishes life drunk and alone, and that is the end of it.

But you know this, and you write it anyway.

You realize that life isn’t an illusion, or an allusion and cannot

Be summed up in a metaphor in a poem on a piece of paper.

You know that each blank page is territory un-crept, not defiled

Yet. You know this.

You are learning that conscious failure is sometimes hidden

Success and the only revealer is time: you know this!

What is more, you have seen the consequences of death;

You feel them and fight them and press to be beyond them.

But these consequences won’t send you to skip into the sunset.

Yes, you know this, so you turn to He who lives beyond

And you write and write and write

And thank him for a language geared mind and fingers to hold a pen.

Unrefined

I am most definitely not a swimmer. This I discovered today after work when Ms. Krieger and I slipped into our suits and did some laps in the pool. It is “a full body work-out,” as my mother would say.

Oh my lovely Mother. She is sitting across from me in our dimly lit family office/library, perusing old photos on one of the computers to the backdrop of my father’s music: The Beatles Anthology. Around the room paintings are propped against walls in her latest attempt to get them on the walls (Mama, please know that I mention this with love: your inability to actually hang the paintings is one of your most endearing characteristics). I have great parents, by the way. They even brought home leftover Chinese food for me to eat when I came home from work. So great.

I think my favorite part of this office is the wall with the bookshelf. Books are stuffed in mild order, the Poetry Section bleeding into the Northwest Section and the Biographies casually fraternizing with the Classics. Traitorous, those Biographies are. Among the books are placed photos: one of my little sister, Madeline, several years ago, straight faced with her feet cut out of the frame, another of the entire blended family posing at my second cousin’s wedding that summer.

Summer 2008. The summer of my car accident. A summer of change. Real change, not the type of change one would associate with Queso Cheese – you know: chemical and rubbery. More like change that grows from the ground: nice and organic. Wooden, if you will? I never permit rubbery change. Praise God for organic alternatives. More on this later.

When you place a leaf in the water...

It has been a long time since I last wrote. The longest it has ever been, in fact. I've gone so far from where I've been. And actually, it is as though I have been under the attack of a giant eraser for the past month. All that is left of what little I knew are a bunch of those little pieces of eraser and paper - the ones that smell like a mistake.

I move far away soon. I don't know if you knew.

Work at Persimmon is excruciatingly (easy) (slow) (boring) (wasteful). I don't use my mind at all. The upside is that I usually get to read a lot. Except today and yesterday when the sun came out. You remember Sun don't you? It is that big light in the sky that makes things warm. I know we haven't seen it for a while.

Someday (over the rainbow?), I am going to write an intelligent and thoughtful blog about something other then myself.

P.S. I finished The Sound and the Fury and yes, it did become more fun to actually read then just talk about reading. Also, I read Little Bee. You probably should too. It was amazing.

The pale yellow moon shone in his eyes.

Spring semester of my freshman year of college has come to a magnificently anticlimactic close. I don’t feel relieved: I feel worn. I have definitely been hiding in my studies for the past couple of months, and now that I can’t do that any longer I am being forced to face reality and the quickness of time. If Time and I were to race, Time would be running circles around me. Also, I spent today worrying about my Soviet final, feverishly writing about the various characteristics of Korenizatsiia, packing up my life and saying permanent goodbyes. Whatever happened to “goodbye for now”? This feels like a country song. You know, the one where someone says goodbye…

Summer is here. Maybe my mood has something to do with the dark and dreary rain that made driving on the freeway a bit more of an adventure. Perhaps I can blame it on my upcoming search for the perfect pair of khaki colored pants for my cool new Persimmon Pool and Tennis Center job. Who knows (Shouldn’t I)?

I am wearing one of my impulse buy shirts. So that is nice. I want my bess frann to come over now, please.

Okay. Summer Goals:

Finish The Sound and the Fury

Read Anna Karenina

Be a stress-free summer schooler

Run, (Forrest), Run.

Wear dresses. Lots of dresses

Buy a new pair of boots

Do yoga because it feels good

Study some Bible and drink it like water

Be with people and tell them I love them

Be on time to work

Get some sunshine; Get more freckles

Have painted fingernails

Make a trip to Yakima

Make a trip to Prineville

Talk to Papa Dean about life

Get sleep

Don’t sleep past 10 (11 MAX)

Bike to Portland

Go see live music

Leave the future in the future

Wear lipstick

Okay, Go!