My year

It's the end of 2008. Here's my year in a nutshell:

1. First and foremost: after two-and-a-half years of loving and wanting a certain someone, I have finally learned to let go and have become interested in other guys once again. :)

2. I chopped eight inches off my hair and discovered I like my hair when it's shoulder-length. A lot.

3. I graduated from SPU and am currently juggling two babysitting gigs and a part-time jobs as I wait to find out if I've been admitted to SPU's grad program for elementary education.

4. I went to Europe with my friend, Karen. I saw Paris, Venice, Florence, Rome, and other amazing places. Now I want to go back.

5. I'm not in a perpetual cloud of semi-depression all the time (see #1).

6. I'm plugged in to a church in Seattle and loving it.

Fact: some people are very, very strange

One of my co-workers disclosed a most disturbing fact to me today. Her son got married last Friday, and the bride, groom, wedding party--even the audience members--wore pajamas. Silk ones... but pajamas nonetheless. And get this: instead of flowers, there were Teddy bears. Lots and lots of Teddy bears.

Can you imagine a bride walking down the aisle arm-in-arm with her dad, wearing a nightgown and clutching a Teddy bear?

Heavens.

Oh, and the wedding "nightgown" was white. That's an important detail I almost forgot to include. What would this world be coming to if the bride didn't wear white???

Dress envy

I would like to own a pretty dress. Not just any pretty dress. One that looks like this:



Or this:



Basically, if it looks like any of Anna Friel's dresses in the show Pushing Daisies, I'll be happy. :)

C.S. Lewis, Slippers, and Picture Frames

It's Christmas day, and I'm immersed in a book called The Problem of Pain. There's something wrong with this picture; or at least, it seems that way. Christmas is a day for celebration and joy and family time, and I'm reading a book about pain? Yikes.

Well, here's my reasoning:

1. It's written by C.S. Lewis. :P

This is yet another of those books that has been subjected to the enthusiastic markings of my pen. I can't help it. Nearly everything he writes resonates so deeply within me that I simply must underline for the sake of ingraining and, then, remembering later on.

Here's just a snippet:

"Everyone has noticed how hard it is to turn our thoughts to God when everything is going well with us. We 'have all we want' is a terrible saying when 'all' does not include God. We find God an interruption. As St. Augustine says somewhere, 'God wants to give us something, but cannot, because our hands are full--there's nowhere for Him to put it.' Or as a friend of mine said, 'We regard God as an airman regards his parachute; it's there for emergencies but he hopes he'll never have to use it.' Now God, who has made us, knows what we are and that our happiness lies in Him. Yet we will not seek it in Him as long as He leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for. While what we call 'our own life' remains agreeable we will not surrender it to Him. What then can God do in our interests but make 'our own life' less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible source of false happiness? It is just here, where God's providence seems at first to be most cruel, that the Divine humility, the stooping down of the Highest, most deserves praise" (The Problem of Pain, 94).


I think that paragraphs speaks for itself. Read this book.

And now on to Christmas-ier stuff. Last night, my brothers and I opened a few gifts. All four of us received slippers/moccasins from our mom and dad. I love the style of mine, although the big fat bows made me want to gag, so my mom graciously helped me take them off with seam rippers. I put the slippers on and noticed that one slipper's opening is much larger than the other slipper's. Only I, the perfectionist to the umpteenth degree, would notice something like that. And only I would be bothered by it for the next two hours. I'm sitting here now, wearing them once again, and I still have to force myself not to look at them with that ever-present critical eye of mine. It doesn't have to look perfect, it doesn't have to look perfect...

As I write this, I realize that above paragraph probably makes me look terribly ungrateful. Let me clarify that I'm not ungrateful in the least. I just have to jump over the hurdle that is my perfectionism and learn to accept that unevenness and other such extremely important issues are facts of life. :P

This year, my brothers and I "went all out" for my parents' Christmas gift. We decided to put together a collage of pictures of us four kids. It took a lot of hours and our fair share of bickering before we could look at the picture frame with the 12 photos in it and declare it to be finished. But, you know what? This is by far the best Christmas gift we've given our parents. It took hard work, collaboration, and thought. Usually, we find a good book we think they'll like or a movie or something. But this one was special. After we had opened all our gifts, my mom hung the frame on the wall. She keeps staring at the pictures, as she passes by or as she cooks food, and that makes me happy. I know we've given her--and my dad--something they'll both be able to enjoy every day.

Without question, Christmas doesn't have the same feel it used to have. I don't lie sleepless in my bed on Christmas Eve, praying for morning to come. I don't anticipate the day itself for months in advance. I don't even listen to Christmas music nonstop like I used to. But it's still a special day. I primarily enjoy it now because I am reminded of Jesus' amazing arrival on earth and of my family's love for me.

Speaking of my family, it's time for me to go join them. I do believe a standing rib roast is calling my name. :D

Dang snow

I never thought I would say this, but... I'm tired of the snow. It's been almost a week of ice, snow flurries, no work, and couch-potatoing. It's starting to get a little old.

Yet, there are supposed to be two more snowstorms this weekend alone. Were it to happen, would a white Christmas even be special at this point?

I have to get out of the house and accomplish things. And I'd like to do that without risking my neck. Oh well.

Reasons the past few days have been spectacular:

1. I went to Pike Place Market for the first time in a while. My friend and I bought pastries and fresh bread and looked at the vendors' wares.
2. I ran 3 miles--without stopping once, I might add--with thousands of other people in the Jingle Bell Run, which took place in downtown Seattle. This is a milestone for me, Miss So-out-of-shape-it's-not-even-funny.
3. I took a walk in the snow at 11:30 pm with two of my roommates.
4. And today, I received my 20 free prints from snapfish.com. I have some of my Europe pictures in my hands! Finally!
5. I ate excellent Chinese food at a place not too far from where I live. Most definitely going there again.

Dashing through the snow, quite literally

Today, I did the Jingle Bell Run in downtown Seattle with my post-college/early career church group. The streets by Westlake Mall were covered with people wearing red and green and bells on their shoes and LEGGINGS. It was positively frigid outside.

Mollee and I signed up for the "joggers" group. I told everyone around me that I expected to only run about a mile and then walk the rest of the way. But no! I jogged the whole three miles! I couldn't believe it. This is a milestone in the life of Monica Reed. Sad, but true. Sad that I have never done any sort of run before now. And also sad that I'm so out of shape that jogging three miles feels like completing a triathlon or something.

Toward the beginning of the run, we entered the express lanes tunnel, and someone started belting out "Jingle Bells," which inspired everyone to join in. The Christmas spirit and excitement was so contagious!

Totally worth it.

Pho is for fun

So, pho is like a food group here in Seattle. I had some with my friend, Lauren, today, and there were about five different restaurants specializing in pho within the same block. I had never had it before today, but I really liked it, aside from the fact that I had to ask for a fork because I'm terribly clumsy and inept when using chopsticks. The plum sauce was my favorite part.

Oh, and it's pronounced "fu," like "fun" without the "n," as my roommate pointed out. Yeah, didn't get that memo until it was too late. I pronounce words incorrectly far too often for my comfort.

Fire!

Silly me. Or stupid me, rather. I spilled buttery water onto the burner the other day and forgot to clean it up. So today, as I was making rice, flames 6-inches high flared up around the pan. Thankfully, the fire extinguisher was within easy reach, so I grabbed it and squeezed the handle. But instead of powerfully spraying out, it dribbled a vile, yellow liquid. Surprisingly, that did the trick.

Live and learn. Clean up your messes immediately after they happen. Immediately.

Quote of the day

Worth pondering:

"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them." ~ Henry David Thoreau

A Billy Sook

Shel Silverstein is my new hero. He wrote a book entitled Runny Babbit: A Billy Sook. I first discovered it in the children's section of Borders and fell in love with its playful and incredibly witty word games:

Kugs and Hisses

Runny said, "I'm lonesome,
I feel so glad and soomy.
I need some kugs and hisses--
Now, who's gonna give 'em to me?"
"I will," said Polly Dorkupine,
"'Cause you're cute as a rug in a bug."
Said Runny, "Well, I'll kake the tiss,
But never hind the mug."

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

Have you seen The Boy in the Striped Pajamas? An eight-year-old boy, Bruno, discovers the brutal realities of the Holocaust in this exquisitely filmed movie. This blue-eyed child, curious and innocent, spends his days swinging on a tire swing and contemplating the far-off "farm" he can see from his house. Gradually, he realizes that this "farm" is no farm. It's a concentration camp. He befriends a boy his own age who sits by the electric fence surrounding the camp. This boy wears "pajamas," gray and white striped shirt and pants, matted with layers of dirt, evidence of the backbreaking labor he has been forced to do.

The ensuing events are both inspirational and heart-wrenching. This is a must-see movie.

Faerie Tale Theatre with Shelley Duvall

While babysitting today, I watched a DVD rendition of The Three Little Pigs. It was part of the Faerie Tale Theatre series that aired in the early '80s. Now, you must understand, I used to watch this series fanatically; I've seen every videotape my library owns. You also must understand that this particular episode I'm about to describe is one of the most ridiculous episodes ever made.

Anyway, I started watching it, while little two-year-old Will played with toys on the floor. Billy Crystal and Jeff Goldblum played the "runt of the litter" and the Big Bad Wolf, respectively. Watching two very well-respected actors make absolute fools of themselves in pig costumes... highly enjoyable, let me tell you.


Here's a choice excerpt from the screenplay for you to enjoy:

(The oldest pig is leaning against a counter. A voluptuous female pig sashays up to him, and a conversation ensues.)

Male pig: "Well HELLO, sweetie sweets! Talk about your prime cuts!"

Female pig: "Cut the bull. Name's Tina - T-I-N-A. May be a small name, but it's attached to a whole lot of lady."

Male pig: "Ooooh. I'm Paul. Paul, Paul, the... pig on the ball. Tell me, Bacon Bits, where have you been all my life?"

Female pig: "Avoidin' wild boys like you."

Male pig: "Ooh, spunky! I like that in a sow. Tell me, uh, Tina, let's say you and me go chew some hay someplace, if you know what I mean."

Female pig: "Well, I think you already bit off more than you can chew, if you know what I mean."

(She discovers he doesn't own a house and rejects him as a result...)

Female pig: (Walking away) "Arrivederci, mon ami."

Male pig: "Yeah, ditto, sweetface."


Horrifying, right? I don't think the screenplay could be any more awful than this. But it's fun to laugh at, that's for sure.

Farewell

I just learned a few days ago that Michael Crichton passed away. This is truly a great loss to the writing world and to me. I have spent many a summer afternoon baking in the sun because I couldn't tear myself away from one of his novels. Jurassic Park, Timeline, Rising Sun, The Andromeda Strain... you name it, I've probably read it.

I'm horrifically ignorant about all science-related topics. Most of his novels deal with minute scientific details that just go WHOOSH over my head. But somehow, I find them riveting. I pick them up and can't put them down. For this reason, I pack a Michael Crichton novel whenever I go to the beach or I'm planning to enjoy a lot of down time. There's just no one better.

You will be missed, Mr. Crichton.

Tales of a Spelling Perfectionist

Yes, it is true.

I, the spelling fanatic, misspelled a word today. Adrenaline: A-D-R-E-N-A-L-I-N-E.

It was a Cranium question. My team was required to spell the word "adrenaline" backward, with each person saying a letter until we reached the end (or, rather, the beginning). We were doing SO well, until we got to the "d". My letter. I said "a" then quickly switched to "d" but not before everyone "oohed" and dismissed it as an unpardonable mistake.

Grrrr.

Podcasts and sermons you have to check out

Friends:

You must experience Mark Driscoll's sermon series "The Peasant Princess." Mark is the pastor of Mars Hill Church up here in Seattle, for those of you who don't know. In the past few weeks, he has been preaching on the Song of Solomon. I have been so impressed by each and every sermon in this series. My Bible is covered with notes. I don't have enough space to write down everything. :) To listen to these sermons, either go to www.marshillchurch.org or download the podcast from iTunes. It's totally worth it. Do it!!

Secondly, you also must experience Focus on the Family's radio show called The Boundless Show. It consists of a bunch of 20-somethings and 30-somethings engaging in roundtable discussions about important topics. I listen to this show while working at World Vision each morning, and it has helped considerably in keeping me from getting bored. Focus on the Family is one of the best organizations out there, and if you're not familiar with it, GET FAMILIAR! (Download the podcasts from iTunes)

Thanks in part to these things, I have been gaining a much clearer understanding of how a life lived entirely for and in Jesus should look. And I'm getting really excited about it! I hope you do too!

Europe and beyond

I can now claim Switzerland, France, and Italy as three of the countries I've visited in my lifetime.

It feels very surreal, almost as if I didn't even go. I have photos to prove that I did; I have memories to remind myself of all the fun we had.

The rail system in Europe is beyond amazing. I found myself wishing that the U.S. could boast such a superb system of transportation. But, I suppose our country is far too expansive for something like that to work well.

Speaking French to native French speakers is thrilling! If I ever live abroad for a while, I've resolved that I will live in France, preferably somewhere in the Loire Valley.

The women confidently wear high heels and short skirts while riding their bicycles. The men dress so sharply it makes American men look pretty ridiculous.

When we arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport, Karen and I ran into my grandpa and his wife. Huh??? What are the chances? Seriously now.

Europe's over now, and here's my current state of affairs:

I miss the French countryside.
I have over $800 on my credit card. Pay it off, pay it off!!
I'm living in Ballard, with six amazing girls.
I'm waiting to hear from the UW: have I been accepted to their MIT program or not?
I'm still working the monotonous 8-1 job at World Vision.
I feel more content and peaceful than I have in a long time, and yet there's still a certain restlessness.

Me. In Seattle. And loving every second of it!!!

Finally. I feel confident, independent, comfortable in my own skin. I feel like a "grown up," that elusive point in life all 20-somethings hope to reach sooner rather than later.

This could be due to several things. For one, I live in a house in Ballard and pay rent each month. Two, I recently started attending Bethany Community, both on Sunday evenings for a service and on Thursday evenings for a women's Bible study. Both things are just what I've been needing the past few years, but never found until now. I'm getting "plugged in," if you will, and it's helping me feel at home.

Three: my three-week trip to Europe this fall proved to me that I'm capable of being halfway across the world and taking care of myself. I had expected this to be the case, but it's nice to know for sure. :)

Four: I don't have a boyfriend, and I'm okay with that. As much as I dearly hope to be married someday, I've been realizing more and more what a blessing it is to be single. At times, it's difficult to overcome the yearning to love and be loved in return. But, I think that's only natural, and I try not to let that desire possess and control me.

Oh yay. I love the delicious newness and amazingness of everything right now!

More to come, perhaps, when I'm less tired...

The Swiss Alps

Karen and I are spending the next three or four days in the Swiss Alps. This morning, we woke up to a snowstorm. Our hostel has a hot tub, and there is an indoor swimming pool in the neighboring town, so thankfully there are things to do on days like this one. :) Eventually, we want to go to the top of Jungfrau, which is the highest spot in the area (I believe). The only downside is that it costs like 120 dollars. Oh, and get this: I did not bring a coat, gloves, or a hat, so at some point I will have to trek down to Lauterbrunnen to buy some stuff to the tune of a few hundred dollars. Jeez.

Our hostel is great. There are a lot of people our age here, chilling, reading books, playing the guitar, and exchanging travel tips/stories. The view from our bedroom is like something from a fairytale. We are surrounded by HUGE, snow-covered peaks, and we are pretty much situated on one ourselves.

More later, after we go on some hikes and see the area.

Firenze

Surrounding the Leaning Tower of Pisa, one will find hundreds of tourists posing for pictures. Some pretend to push on it, some "hug" it, some kickbox it, and some "climb" it. There is never a lull in this activity. There is always someone taking a picture of that sort.

Of course, Karen and I joined in on the fun the second we got there and took a bazillion pictures like that. I just found it very hilarious that literally everyone who comes to see the Tower feels the need, the pressure, whatever, to do so. It's also funny to me that the Tower is honestly the only attraction in the town of Pisa. At least, the only attraction tourists want to see.

But, pictures and tourist insanity aside, the Tower really is amazing. It just looks like it's going to topple over at any minute. I love the architecture of it too. It's really beautiful.

Back in Florence, we went on a free guided tour of the town, which we escaped from after about two hours because the guide was taking SO long on each building/sight. We had only covered four of the 20 or so sights by the time two hours had passed. We have things to do, places to see, thank you very much. :)

We met a girl from the U.K. who had lunch with us. We exchanged stories about creepy Italian men over pizza. Honestly, though, nowhere in Europe have I felt truly threatened. Seattle, on the other hand, gives me the creeps at night, and even in the daytime sometimes. I already know the secret to avoiding creepsters, and that is to look straight ahead, look confident, and not give them the time of day.

At our hostel, we're in a room with seven other girls, which makes for rather loud, sleepless nights. Snoring, opening of suitcases, shuffling around, reading until early morning: yeah, not so fun. Thankfully, my earplugs stayed in for most of the night last night (they usually fall out after about an hour), so I slept better than I've slept in a while.

Today, on to the David! And something called Casa Buonarroti, which, as far as I understand, is a house Michelangelo bought and is now a museum for some of his pieces. I believe it's free as well, which is always a bonus.

Michelangelo

We spent the afternoon in Vatican City today. The Sistine Chapel was the single most amazing thing I've seen thus far. Karen and I craned our necks for about a half-hour, studying the beautiful frescoes. My neck is sore from that, and then I think of how Michelangelo must have felt, standing with his head inches from the ceiling, painting minute details on a massive scale. We were told that the amount of painting he did equaled the area of a football field. And he said he was a sculptor not a painter... whatever. I have never been more impressed by artwork than I was by the Sistine Chapel.

St. Peter's Basilica was beautiful as well. Michelangelo's "Pieta" was there, albeit behind bulletproof glass. Someone tried to destroy it about 30 years ago, so ever since then it has been protected by a glass wall. We decided we wanted to climb up the dome of the church. Seven euros and 343 steps later we were at the top and could see an expansive view of Rome. Sadly, we couldn't find the Colosseum or the Roman Forum from that viewpoint, but it was still awesome.

Everyone--and I do mean everyone--stares at us. Openly. Without breaking eye contact. It's rather strange. We've noticed this everywhere we've gone. We just scream "American Tourist" pretty much. Maybe that's it.

We're leaving Rome tomorrow and going to "Firenze," otherwise known as Florence. We're also planning a day trip to Pisa. After that, it's Switzerland and then home! I can't wait to see you all again.

I wish I could bring each of you a cone filled with gelato, but since I can't, you'll just have to come over here and try it for yourself one day!

This feels like Seattle... except there's gelato here. :)

Me again. I love writing these notes. It helps me remember everything I've seen each day and everything I want to recall after I leave here.

Gelato is the world's best dessert. Everyone who comes to Italy tries it (usually) and most leave Italy in love with it. I'm one of those people. It's absolutely AMAZING.

We spent all day yesterday walking around the center of Rome. All the main sights are within walking distance of each other: the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Pantheon, the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain, etc. My favorite of all was the Pantheon, which we saw for only about fifteen minutes before hopping on the bus to go back to Azusa's house. It just blows my mind that the interior of the Pantheon dates from A.D. 120. It's in absolutely pristine condition. The intricacy of the walls and floors and the dome above was fascinating. The artist Raphael and two Italian kings are buried inside the Pantheon.

Somehow, we got into the Colosseum and the Roman Forum for free. We're not sure exactly how that happened. They were handing out free tickets to everyone, so we took one. We saved about $16 that way, which was exciting, considering that we had spent loads of money in Venice the day before. The Roman Forum sprawls out for quite some time. All that's left of it is foundations, crumbling walls, and, occasionally, great big pillars that are miraculously still standing. It was still breathtaking, and I wanted to just sit there and pretend I was back in the 1st or 2nd century.

The Colosseum was just awesome. I've seen so many pictures of it, but to stand right in front of it and go inside it was amazing. There were signs inside explaining where the gladiators would emerge. Apparently, the gladiators never knew what animal they would be fighting or what part of the stadium it would be coming from. Goodness.

The Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain weren't all that great. In fact, they weren't really worth it, but that's okay. On our way there, we walked down the strip of designer stores: Prada, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and Jimmy Choo were some of them.

By the way, Karen and I feel like we're in just another big city, in some ways. Same busy streets, same harried people, same noise. And yet, we can see the Colosseum.

Today, Azusa is taking us shopping. We're going to escape the tourism for a while and be locals. Yes!

Venezia and Roma

Karen and I just had the most invigorating conversation with three Italian guys. We were on the train from Venezia to Roma (5 hours) and spent the entire time conversing with them in our extremely limited Italian (basically, we used our phrase books and the help of the younger guy who spoke some English). It was hilarious and very lively and the time sped past, needless to say. Matteo, the younger one, did the Italian "kiss-on-both-cheeks" thing to Karen and me when our train arrived in Rome and we said goodbye. *Sigh* :P

We spent today in Venezia (Venice), exploring the various canals and crossing a bazillion bridges. I had my first real Italian dinner, and it was divine. As we walked around, we kept marveling at the sheer craziness of the tourism there. Every single inch of the roads was covered in souvenir vendor stands. Yuck. It sort of kept me from enjoying Venice as much as I would have liked to.

But now... Roma!!! Oh yeah. We're excited. I'll update later on when we've actually seen some sights here. Oh, the Colosseum... :)

The French Riviera and that long-dreamed-about Mediterranean Sea

Karen and I are still alive! Internet cafes have been few and far between until now. Either that, or they were extremely expensive (6-9 euros per hour, which is about 10-15 dollars an hour). This one is only 2 euros per hour. Score!!! Tonight, we're staying at a hostel here in Nice, and there's a man in our room who's from Sydney, Australia! How awesome is that? He asked me how the election in the U.S. is going, and I didn't have much to tell him, aside from all the hype about Sarah Palin. :P

(Oh, random side note. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm sick and tired of eating bread!!! We've been buying bread and fruit for lunch and breakfast to save money. Now every time Karen and I see bread, we feel like puking. Haha.)

We've been traveling by train for the past few days now, speeding down to Marseilles, Nice, and the French Riviera. Needless to say, we're sick of traveling by train, although it has been nice to see the French countryside. Last night, we stayed in Marseilles, but were kind of creeped out by the hostel. We felt like we were in a mental asylum or something. Not fun. And then, we walked block after block in search of food and finally found a tiny pizzeria. The man cooked the pizzas right in front of us, after we deliberated for about twenty minutes over what kind of pizza we wanted. It didn't help that he spoke zero English. Well, he spoke SOME English. He was telling us that he knows "I love you, baby," "fish," and "one two three...". We were cracking up as he said these words with his heavy French accent. It was awesome. Oh, and the pizza was divine. Not much on it, but probably one of the best pizzas I've ever tasted. Mmmm mmmm.

We got up this morning and decided to take a train to Nice, which took us 2 1/2 hours. Now we're in Nice, and it's beautiful and sunny and everything we expected it to be. In a few minutes, we're going to walk to Vieux Nice (Old Town Nice) and explore the boutiques and eat some amazing food (it's supposed to be phenomenal here). From Vieux Nice, we're going to hike up the nearby mountain thingamajigger to see views of the Mediterranean. I have wanted to see the Mediterranean for years, and now I'm finally here!!!

Why am I sitting at a computer?

Bye for now,

Monica

Paris II

So much for not writing again anytime soon! I decided I want to document the highlights of as many days as I can, so I won't forget things.

So, get this. At Charles de Gaulle, just after Karen and I got off the plane, we saw my GRANDPA and his wife, Luisita, of all people! What the heck? I vaguely remembered having heard that they would be in Paris sometime in the fall, but still... what are the chances of our flights arriving on the same day, at the same time? Crazy.

French women ride bikes wearing high heels and mini skirts. Seriously, how do they do it? And guys: they're so well-dressed, it's not even funny. It's like everyone is made of money here, and maybe it's true, who knows? Lee, Karen, and I walked into a Louis Vuitton store on the Champs Elysees, and a lot of people were buying bags/totes that were priced at well over $500. That much for a purse? Yikes yikes. Anyway, I'm sure this isn't much different than a lot of big European cities, but it still blows me away.

We went to Versailles today. It was beautiful, but honestly not as amazing as I had expected. For one thing, the fountains were on in the gardens today, which meant that people had to pay an extra $9 just to walk in the gardens. Needless to say, we chose not to do that. The palace itself was beautiful, of course, but so crowded that it was hardly enjoyable. And, don't kill me for saying this, those of you who like it, but I wasn't very impressed by the Hall of Mirrors. :( Thankfully, we moseyed our way down to Marie Antoinette's "quarters," which were much less crowded and much more quaint. They were also free of charge, which was huge because we have been spending money right and left. (I've spent about $200 in the past three days, which is nothing I hadn't expected, but it's still a rude awakening).

We ate lunch (apples and kiwi bread stuff) at the edge of the Grand Canal. People were canoeing and eating picnic lunches, and we found that doing things the cheap and local way is often a lot more fun. I'd been told that before, so that wasn't a big surprise.

Oh, so we've been taking the Metro (subway) a lot of places. It's very similar to London's "tube." Very convenient way to get around the city, especially when you've been walking all day and need a break. Today, we were gone from our hostel for 12 hours and most of that time was spent walking or standing.

Karen and I have been SO grateful to Lee in the past few days. He has been absolutely indispensable with his knowledge about European transportation, customs, etc., not to mention a blast to hang out with! Tomorrow, as I mentioned yesterday, we're splitting up, and Karen and I will be on our own! It'll work out, but it's going to take a lot of work to figure out train and hostel details. Actually, I'm kind of excited to try figuring things out on my own. Sounds challenging, but fun.

Oh yes, and we went to the Musee Rodin this afternoon, which features The Kiss, The Thinker, and The Gates of Hell, among other very famous sculptures. I can't believe I'm actually seeing things in person that I've only ever heard of or seen in movies or books.

All right, I'm running out of time on the internet, and I'll have to pay big bucks to continue using it, so ta-ta for now!

Paris I

Karen and I are in Paris! We are still overcoming the jet lag, which basically kept us from doing anything fun yesterday (Thursday) because we were so dead tired. I'm also sick (just now getting over it), so that didn't help things. Last night, I slept fifteen hours straight!

Today, Lee, Karen, and I spent the entire day walking around the city. We figured out that we walked a total of about nine hours, from our hostel in the 11th arrondissement to the Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe to the Eiffel Tower... and then we took the metro (subway) back because our feet weren't too happy with us. :(

I had heard plenty of times that the Louvre is unbelievably enormous, but it's hard to comprehend until you actually see it. We saw the Mona Lisa (not all that amazing) and the Venus de Milo, as well as Napoleon III's apartments, which, of course, were opulent beyond belief and made me wonder--as I did in the U.K. a few years ago--how people like Napoleon could justify living that way.

Then, we walked to the Arc de Triomphe, which was astoundingly huge as well, but we didn't spend much time looking at it. Then, to the Eiffel Tower, which totally lives up to all the hype. We're going to go back tomorrow to climb the stairs to the 2nd story, so we can see the view of the city from there.

I had so many opportunities to speak French today! It was awesome. Although, two French guys walked by us and asked us for the time, but I just sputtered and said "uh, uh." Then they figured out that we're not fluent French speakers and walked on. I felt so stupid, because all I should have said was a simple "Je ne parle pas francais, desole." Ugh. BUT... I've ordered food in French a few times and asked where the bathrooms were--"Ou sont les toilettes"--so I guess that counts for something. I feel so dumb whipping out my handy dandy Rick Steves phrase book every time I need to ask someone something. It positively screams "tourist." But, I am a tourist, so I guess I should be fine with it. :)

Tomorrow, we head to Versailles for the day. It's about a half-hour outside the city of Paris. I've looked forward to this particular sight for a long time. More about that after we've seen it.

Oh, the food. Let me just say that it's divine. Karen, Lee, and I just had crepes from a roadside stand... mouthwatering and surprisingly filling. I had a banana and nutella crepe as well as a chicken, tomato, and egg crepe. Mmm mmm good! But, we're realizing that we can't eat out for every meal if we want to have money for the latter half of the trip, so we stopped by a market to buy fresh fruit and other stuff.

In two days, Karen and I will say goodbye to Lee and embark on the rest of the journey all by our wittle selves. :) We have a lot of train schedules to coordinate, but I think we'll be okay if we stay on top of it.

It costs a lot of money for internet time, so I can't promise another update very soon, especially since we'll no longer be in a big city in a few days.

Au revoir for now!

On slugs and vampires

While watering my neighbor's lovely plants today, I happened upon something disturbing. A slug. A rotund brown slug moseying its way along the gravel, probably intent on reaching the grass and disappearing into its greenery.

Slugs cause one reaction in me and only one: utter disgust and revulsion. And if I'm within ten feet of one, involuntary shudders course up and down me. Yet, they're interesting to me too. Their ugly, legless bodies somehow get them from point A to point B, in surprisingly short amounts of time. They don't make any noise. And no matter how hideous and slimy they are, they can't help that. Poor things. :P

When I was 12, a baby slug--really, the tiniest thing ever--latched onto my little toe. I yelped and proceeded to flail my arms and run around the yard, as if Bigfoot himself was chasing me. My family looked at me in shock.

Slugs are a lot like vampires, really. They both inspire strange feelings of revulsion mingled with curiosity.

I'm reading a series about vampires, which is utterly and completely not like me. Since when have I been interested in that kind of thing? Since never. But each book draws me in, makes me want to keep reading into the wee hours of the night. Perhaps because the main character, Bella, and the emotions she goes through remind me of things I've gone through. Of course, none of mine had to do with vampires or being loved by a vampire boyfriend, but you get the idea. :P

Bella and Edward's relationship is astonishingly addicting for me, the reader. Her insecurities about his love for her, their inability to be too affectionate lest his brutal strength hurt her accidentally, and the overpowering pull they experience toward each other are just riveting.

I'm on the 3rd book (out of four) and can hardly bring myself to put it down. In fact, after I finish writing this, I plan to pick it up again and potentially finish it tonight, despite the fact that I have to get up at 6:45 tomorrow morning.

I'm 21 years old, a college graduate, and I'm reading a young adult series about vampires and werewolves. I feel incredibly silly. But is that going to stop me from finishing it? Nope. Not a chance. :)

Heeheehahahoohoohmmph

I have grease in my hair. It's Pantene's fault.

I popped The Da Vinci Code in my DVD player today, primarily to see the clips of the Louvre so I could point and say, "I'll be there in a month!!!" As the movie progressed, I became disgusted and turned it off. Self-flagellation is not exactly something I would like to watch, thank you very much, much less NAKED self-flagellation during which the camera has to expertly make minute movements to avoid indecent exposure of the actor. Yuck.

I have decided that I am the world's biggest worrywart. And I need to knock it off, or else... well, my life just won't be very happy, that's all. "Do not worry about tomorrow..."

I have resolved to someday belt out a tune with no regard to pitch or aesthetics while driving on a highway with my love interest (watch A Lot Like Love, and it will all make sense). Haha.




And now, on a somewhat heavier note: I'm petrified of this coming year, while also completely ecstatic about it. I'm scared that I won't have the money to pay for rent, food, gas, etc. You know, the basic necessities. I'm scared I'll have to ask my parents for money, which is the absolute last thing I want to do. But, at the same time, I couldn't be happier to be living with some of my best friends. I guess pretty much nothing in this life comes without at least SOME stress or worry. Oh well.

Bring it on.

Crush

This is a true story. I tried to recount it as accurately as I could. Enjoy.)

I am seven years old. Pigtails and ruffled polka-dotted skirts are my fashions of choice. My impossibly young age has not stopped me from falling in love with an older man. He’s nearly ten years old, and I’m a mere seven. The age difference seems a problem that is insurmountable and slightly absurd. But he is in my daydreams, regardless. Brian Rogers. He’s just so cute.

He’s coming over today. To MY house. To play on MY slip ‘n’ slide. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Oh! Here he is, with his mom and two brothers. Here he is, blond hair flopping and a toothy grin that makes my heart nearly stop beating. Here he is, holding a box of Oreos, my favorite. How had he known? I beam at him and skip outside, beckoning him--all of them--to follow.

Before I know it, we’re watching Mom turn on the sprinkler and position the slide. We’re wearing our swimsuits. We’re ready. Brian makes the first move—my brave, adorable Brian—and rushes down the yellow slide, dropping to his knees and skidding into the grass. I clap my hands in enthusiasm. The rest of us need no more coaxing. We run, squeal, fall, dive, scrape, slide, scream our way through a hot summer afternoon. I try to catch Brian’s eye every now and then, but mostly I just enjoy playing with him.

Smack! It feels like someone has smashed a hammer into my forehead. I clutch my throbbing head and crumple to the ground, sure that I’m on my deathbed. I open my eyes slightly to see Brian staggering and stumbling his way to his mom. And then I know. Brian and I have accidentally slammed into each other, in exchange for bruises and very sore heads. How very romantic! Amidst my pain, I nearly swoon from pleasure at this realization. I had touched heads with Brian Rogers! This was more than I had ever hoped for or even wanted. Soon, though, my head hurts too much to let me relish this moment. I crawl toward my mom, furiously blinking away the tears, wanting to appear just as strong and brave as Brian and failing miserably. He’s already back on the slip ‘n’ slide. I sit with our moms, enduring the exclamations of pity and distress at my head wound. I lightly touch my forehead and wince at the pain. Inside, I’m thrilled. Who else can say that Brian Rogers gave them a big black bruise? No one, that’s who. Only me, lucky ol’ me.

Today was a perfect day.

Mini-golf and inquisitive children

Listening to the radio the other day, I learned a most useful fact: going mini-golfing on a first date is nothing short of half-witted. The woman who called in "couldn't think of a worse choice for a first date." Her reason? She's terrible at it. Lame. I, for one, think mini-golf would be much more enjoyable than sitting at a table and eating for a few hours. More out-of-the-ordinary, too.

On another note, adorable six-year-old Mari, the girl I babysit, tugged at my neckline and peered down my shirt today, only to exclaim, "What IS that pink thing???" "That pink thing" was my bra, but I was hardly about to tell her that with her two brothers in earshot. So I clutched my neckline back and shrugged my shoulders. She's a knucklehead, that one.

Release

Is it really possible? This feeling of freedom can't be attributed to his absence, can it?

Two nights ago, we went out to dinner. We talked, we laughed, we teased... it was like we were back at SPU grabbing dinner on a weeknight. Then, we hugged and said goodbye. He said, "Don't have too much fun," I said something in return, and then I walked to my car and left. For that next half-hour, I choked down panicky sobs and struggled to see the road before me. I almost turned the car around to return to his house and ask for one more hug. But then, I calmed down and felt peaceful somehow, and the rest of the drive I was fine.

I feel so lighthearted and calm. So worry-free. So NOT SAD when I think about him and my many memories of him. I know three things for a fact: I still love him deeply, I still have very strong feelings for him, and I will still miss him. But now, I've found I can have peace of mind and sanity in addition to those three things. It's all about self-control and not allowing myself to remain stuck in that all-too-familiar rut of an aching heart.

I think of him, and I smile. This is truly a milestone. Now, let's just hope this milestone chooses to remain permanent.

All the world is before me

This is truly a strange time in my life. Everything's happening and nothing's happening. On one hand, I go to World Vision Monday through Friday and monotonously open/sort mail. Hardly my dream job, but it's tolerable when I make conversation with my friend, Hannah, who sits next to me. On the other hand, I'm planning--rather frenziedly--a trip to Europe with my friend, Karen, and scrambling to turn in my grad school applications on time. I'm emailing dozens of people a week, researching European cities and landmarks, and trying to save every last cent rather than spend it on food, clothing, and entertainment. In the meantime, I wait anxiously for Brett to contact me. Every day that passes with no news is getting increasingly more painful. I wonder if he'll even bother to say goodbye to me. I sobbed my eyes out today for about a half-hour. I'm talking gut-wrenching, ragged, death-worthy sobs. He has such a hold on me. It's not fair.

What is love?

He and I talked on the phone the other day. He's "this close" to getting a job near Chicago, teaching preschool by day and maintaining order in a dorm of middle-school boys by night.

Whenever I tell my friends that I love him, they ask me if it's the "real" kind of love, the kind that goes beyond feelings and emotions and becomes something deeper, more lasting, selfless. I always say yes, because, as cliche as it might sound, all I really want is to see him happy and content. If he's meant to be happy and content with me, then it will happen. If he's meant to be happy and content with someone else, someone better suited for him, then I can be happy and content too, knowing that he's with someone he loves who loves him in return.

So... back to our conversation. As we talked and as he told me more details about this job, I felt excitement and anticipation welling within me, as if it were ME road-tripping to Illinois, ME teaching adorable preschoolers, ME making the adventurous and gutsy decision to leave everything I know and be on my own in a new state. Strange, right? I mean, this is my first love we're talking about, the man I am madly in love with, the man I'll potentially never see again. I should be weeping uncontrollably at the thought of his departure.

I went to coffee with a friend a few weeks ago, and she said something very simple but oh so true. Two people can love each other and not be right for each other. That's it. That's all she said. But it brought me comfort.

So, yes, I still suppress romantic feelings for him, I still try to dislodge thoughts of him from my brain, I'm still mildly terrified at the thought of my life without him. No more late night theological conversations, no more driving to Fred Meyer just to be with him, no more anything with him. I think of his smile and a twinge of sadness grips me for a few seconds. I remember the way it felt to throw my arms around his neck and feel his arms encircle my waist in a tender hug. I think of these things and my heart grows heavy momentarily.

He says he loves me. I know I love him. The rest is circumstantial and remains to be seen. But for now, I will send him off with a huge smile and a prayer and probably a few tears in the mix.


"To Make You Smile," Kari Kimmel

You're memorizing the flights, the trains, the numbers
To get you away from here
You got your suitcase all packed, don't know where your going
But you know you can't stay here
You settled into something plain
But you need more color, need more change

If you wake up, and you're happy
Baby it was worth it all
Just to see you smile
If you find out, it was crazy
Baby, I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

You got your habits, you've found your way of dealing
So do what you gotta do
Is it something you're running from
Or could there be someone else you're running too
You've got a past you cannot change
So make you're future, don't be late
Just go on your way

If you wake up, and you're happy
Baby it was worth it all
Just to see you smile
If you find out, it was crazy
Baby, I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

You're gonna find out on your own
As soon as you walk away from everything you know

If you wake up, and you're happy
Baby it was worth it all
Just to see you smile
If you find out, it was crazy
Baby, I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

If you wake up, and you're happy
Baby it was worth it all
Just to see you smile
If you find out, it was crazy
Baby, I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

Make you smile, yeah to make you smile
I'll be waiting here
Just to see you smile
Make you smile, yeah to make you smile
I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

Hand in hand

Grumble

Oof. I'm looking into two--all of two--grad schools and already I feel overwhelmed. "Take the Praxis II test," one of them says. "No, take the WEST-E test," the other says. "The Praxis II is being fazed out." Well, which one do I take, people? "Oh, and by the way, that will be $200 for you to sit down for a few hours and scribble some answers on a piece of paper."

Peachy. Just peachy.

All I really want to do is think about Europe. Going there, that is. It might happen this September/October. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but it's hard. The thought of seeing Prague, Paris, Rome, and all those other places that have been tantalizing me for years gives me chills.

I want to think about grad school too. I mean, I wouldn't be applying if I weren't excited about the idea. It's just that decisions--important, huge ones--are needing to happen, all within the next few weeks and months, and I'm slightly panicked. No, make that terrified. So, at this point, despite looking forward to grad school, despite being genuinely interested in becoming an elementary school teacher, all I really want to do is escape to Europe.

My kiddos!

I visited my 1st and 2nd graders yesterday... well, now many of them are 3rd graders, but that's beside the point. I walked into the room, and thirteen adorable heads turned around to see who was there. A few of their jaws dropped, and I heard someone say "she looks so different". Then they left their chairs and swarmed around me, asking if I remembered their names. Fortunately, I remembered most of them, except poor little Maddie. The thing is, I know her name, but in that moment I completely blanked. I felt so bad.

And then... Abel started pushing his way through the sea of kids, saying "watch out, coming through" and when he reached me he threw his chubby arms around my waist and hung on me--yes, hung--for a good thirty seconds. He hasn't changed a bit, I thought, as I struggled to keep from keeling over.

In those moments, I felt so content. I don't think I stopped smiling the entire time. After I'd patted enough backs, recited enough names, and received enough hugs, Tiffany suggested that I read to them for a while. That was always my responsibility last summer: I love to read and inflect my voice dramatically to keep the kids entertained. I joyfully agreed and perched on the stool at the front of the classroom. She handed me a book called Hatchet, and I read two chapters from it. A rather boring book, but the kids seemed to like it well enough. Only Abel and Cameron--and occasionally Cienna and Maddie--whispered to each other off and on, but otherwise everyone listened. Sooo different from last year. Last year, I swear they all had ADHD. :)

I left after only a half-hour, but I was thoroughly rejuvenated and ready to tackle this grad school/elementary ed thing I'm currently pursuing.

Two weeks and counting

I did it. I cut my hair. Six inches... GONE, just like that. I still see myself in mirrors and do a double-take. I haven't had short hair like this since I was nine years old, back in the day when I had messy bangs that made me look homeless. I'm not quite sure how I managed to get up the nerve to do this. I have been exceedingly vain about my luxuriant long hair for a long time.

I think I just needed a change. Physically, I mean. Everything else in my life seems to be changing. I'm graduating in two weeks. I have to say a permanent goodbye to my first love. I'll be moving off the SPU campus and into a house in Ballard. I'll be out in "the real world," as they say. And that terrifies me. Maybe cutting my hair was an attempt to create a new me, a more sophisticated, older me. Yet, I still feel like a lonely, scared 21-year-old girl. God, help me.

Here we go again

I never knew it was possible to miss him when he's right here beside me. I see him nearly every day. We laugh, we talk, we poke, we hug, we drive... but I miss him in anticipation of missing him. We'll graduate, he'll leave, and I'll still be here in Seattle, missing a huge part of me.

I'm giddy when I dance

I have days where all I want to do is dance. Can I please just take ballet again? Please???

I quit taking lessons when I was thirteen. My teacher was practically asking me to devote the rest of my life to being a dancer. I have a bunch of other things I'd like to devote my life to, thank you very much, and besides, squishing my toes into pink concrete shoes isn't exactly my idea of a lifelong hobby.

I love to tiptoe along curbs and anything else that allows me to use all those muscles ballet used to require. I love to flit from room to room, pretending that I am on stage performing in Swan Lake or Sleeping Beauty--those two ballets are the best EVER!

Dance movies just kill me. I watch them, and as the credits roll, I proceed to leap up and twirl around the room, sometimes with acquiescing roommates, sometimes watched by unbelieving eyes. Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. Granted, not the best movie in the world, but oh my WORD did it get me moving!

Step Up. Another not-so-great movie, but the dancing... that mixture of hip-hop and ballet just takes my breath away.

And An American in Paris. Now THAT is a good movie. And it has some of the most tender dancing scenes I've ever seen.

De-stressing, teapot-style

Have you ever felt like putting on a floofy dress, lying on the floor and holding a teapot over your head? I have. I do. If you're going to treat yourself to a momentary distraction from the frustrations of life, you might as well do it creatively.