people are and will be people

so many thoughts have laboured my mind [and caused me to write with the british "u" also, apparently...] lately. i've gone from mind boggling perplexed-ness to wanting to write a novel about my life to... everything in between. when will someone invent a mind printer? i want one. i write stories in my head but cannot get them down on paper quickly enough for them to flow as well as they would have had i been able to copy them down precisely as they were first thought. speaking and writing always seem to interrupt the delicate process of thought. i guess the whole "i want to write a book on my life story" thing deals with a frustration that so many people know so little about me here... i hate that i have to build who i am for people from the ground up again, because they didn't grow up knowing me... or get to know people who already knew me. i don't like starting again, because it's so much work. i want people to be people... who i can just sit down and have a relaxed conversation with. i don't want to destroy you... my expectations are nothing greater than that i would love to have deep and meaningful discussions with people... or even just normal discussions, but without the fronts, the walls, the politeness... the politically correct way to be "civil." don't be civil. be yourself. i'd rather be myself than pretend to be someone i'm not... i'd rather be unkempt and disheveled than spend hours trying to give myself an unnatural beauty. i'm willing to meet you halfway to your level, will you attempt to come at least halfway to mine? if we meet in the middle, then maybe we can start to understand one another. if i wrote my life story, however, i would become detached from my life, and become the outside observer. that would be weird. unless i said "i"... but i almost think i would appreciate pretending to be an outsider... so i could experience my life from the outside, nearly. [obviously not truly since one can never be completely objective about oneself]
on that note, it's fascinating to me to watch the levels of recognition as they hit me. when i see someone for the first time, the impression i am given of them deals merely with outside observations... they are but plastic, though they move and speak. the more i know someone, the more other information goes into play with how i see that person... i begin to see personality, dreams, hopes, ambitions... i begin to see more of the whole picture, and a person is painted before my eyes. it's fascinating.
though i like that word far too immensely.

Tea and Sympathy?

I am so confused right now.

concerning a dialogue

it has been absolutely amazing (words can't describe, thus that one must for now do) being at Biola and taking part in the art program. my whole life, i have taken what i was told and done it. i stayed within the lines like a good child wanting to impress someone with her coloring skills. it scared me to death to do anything that would displease anyone, especially those above me. and though that isn't inherently bad, it turned me into a machine, following orders and doing things because i should or because they were right. i despised conflict and was unwilling to express my views or even take the time to collect my thoughts and decide what my views were, lest i offend someone or get into an argument. i was very much like a doormat, in every sense that a doormat entails. ...but i don't like it when people are doormats, always consenting, not having a backbone, not having a voice, but relentlessly relenting to another person's whims, and agreeing with another person's views, because that's safe... so why should i be a doormat, and a voice silenced by fear of what others think of me? perhaps that is why i am delighting so much in biola, because here i cannot be without a voice. as an artist, my art is worth nothing unless it has something to say. anyone can sit and stare at a chair for hours and draw it, but that doesn't mean it has a message. where is the meaning in the drawing of the chair if there is no point but that it is a chair? is the drawing just a motion, an exercise? or is it an extension of one's soul? in some sense, from all art can be derived meaning, especially when the art is the result of an outpouring of emotion, which to me has always been what art was... and is why i can call music and poetry also art, because to be true to themselves, they must be driven by an emotional experience. it both excites and scares me to be entering this program. being an art major forces me to think deeply about things, and to discuss them in my art. i look forward to the transformation from someone so accepting of what is thrown at me to someone who really cares enough to constantly ponder and really take a look at the issues of life and Christianity. I love God, but what does it mean to love him? what does it mean to really serve him? i guess it's also a journey into being more constantly genuine, true to my faith, and true to who I was made to be. It's a difficult journey, filled with unknowns and a lack of pat answers, but it's also a journey that will hold significance and at least some semblance of fulfillment. it will help me to begin to understand myself, my world, my God, and my belief system in a far deeper way. if i tell you that i chose art over elementary education or some other major because it was "harder," I don't intend to demean the other path of study. instead, it simply says that doing art pushes me outside of the box and has no right answers (a hard concept for me), whereas most other fields of study that have intrigued me (like elementary education) do have right answers, and wouldn't push me outside the box quite as much.
bueno, this one-sided conversation was prompted by a highly fascinating lecture i just attended... from a photographer/social worker/whatever guy, though the thoughts written have been mulling in my head for probably a week or so now, since my first "1st year seminar: art" class.... and thought it was about time to write them out.

weekend at home

it's surreal for me, an mk, to go "home" for the weekend. it's funny because i talked to one of my RAs on friday before leaving for "home" and told her about my plans... and she asked where "home" was for me, because obviously i couldn't fly to the philippines for the weekend... so i explained that "home" this year was Pasadena, since that's where my parents are living right now... but next year, "home" will change, because my parents will be back in the philippines... i guess "home" will be at some friend or relatives place. it won't be MY home per se, as in not really where my parents are which has always defined "home" in the past, but it will be a place of refuge and belonging away from school. i really don't know what God will have in place for me next year when i lack that nearness of "home," but I trust that he will provide someplace to be an escape for me.

a new place, a new life

i feel in a poetic mood this night, though perhaps my thoughts will not flow as poetically as i might hope. biola, the place where i now eat, sleep, learn, and dine has been an amazing experience for me. i rather dislike when people ask how i am doing, because i don't know what answer i should give. the "expected" answer is "good"... and sometimes i prefer that answer even when the truth is much deeper, because i don't always appreciate it when people show pity towards me... and i often overstate emotions anyway. it's not a bad thing to be tired when i've had 9 hours of class in a day... that's more than i'd get in high school!... but it's not extremely necessary to make people feel sorry for me because of my insane schedule. after all, i did choose it, did i not? but even beyond that, i'm at a point right now, and i'm not sure whether this is a good or bad thing, but i'm at a point where it doesn't matter to me that i am busy and haven't chosen much of a social life, because i'm here in college to study, to learn, to grow closer to God. Right now i can't easily handle that with my busyness and still do stuff with friends... and i don't have many people i would extremely care to spend long hours with anyway. i love the people i have gotten to know, but it all feels so surface, so superficial... and i don't know how i'm expected to make friendships with people in the American context. it's been too long... and relationships here are so different than ones in the Philippines at Faith Academy. In a way it seems very wrong to be so reclusive, but it's hard not to be. deep down, the changes have been harder than i let on, or than i even, myself, realize. i guess not diving head first into friendships and relationships is my way of coping with the change, because if i have to try to hard to make friends i tire easily. ...but take everything i say with a grain of salt, because my writings are from thoughts in my head that don't always line up with reality, but are compiled of my mind's imaginings and my heart's feelings.
Jen