the observer.

Being an observer is one of the reasons, I believe, that I actually like working in retail.  I greet hundreds of people every day, show them merchandise, help them purchase it -- and I get to observe them, how they interact with the world, with their families and friends, with my coworkers, with me.  It is often a joy, though sometimes a frustration.  It is always interesting to get a glimpse into other worlds, even a small glimpse.  Many of these people greet me by name now, without even reading my name tag.  I only know a few of them by name in return, though I recognize many faces and make an effort to remember.  I try to remember small details that make a person feel appreciated, because small things are often the most important, or at least valued and cherished.

I am also an observer outside of my job.  I observe the way people interact in daily life, in love, in everything.  I would like to think I am a lifelong learner -- not necessarily of books and theories, though I do enjoy those, but of people, relationships, and interactions.

An interesting story that made me chuckle, and still does, which is why I remember it and am repeating it here:

I was checking out a guest at the registers, I believe she was purchasing some stuff for a boy scout troop, like for making miniature flag poles or something.  When she was finished I said my usual goodbye, you know, "alright, well have a nice day!"... or something along those lines, and she stopped, a little awkwardly, and said "God loves you!"  I was slightly taken aback, I don't usually have customers try to witness to me, but I responded a second later, "You know, God loves you too!"... and I don't think she knew what to do with my response, like she had to one up it or something, so she replied, "Well, God loves you more!"

The full exchange:

Customer: "God loves you!"
Me: "God loves you too!"
Customer: "Well, he loves you more!
Me: "....ummm?..."
Customer: (trying to explain?) "I was his favorite last week"
Me: "So, what, it's my turn?"

...It was possibly very sweet of her, but not very theologically sound.  Though, I appreciate her courage in trying to witness to a complete stranger, especially since it was a slightly awkward/unnatural exchange.

life update.

So much has happened, in so little time.  I look back to even a year ago and I see how much I've grown up, and it's weird.  I still don't know what I want out of life, but sometimes it's better to sit back and smell the flowers for awhile.  It's good to have goals, but I think it's also important to live a little, to not make those goals the entire driving force of life.  I don't want to look back and realize that in the rush to move life along, I missed something or someone.  Sometimes I like to list the firsts I have accomplished in a year.  This last year, I had my first promotion at a job, I had my first relationship, am going through my first break up, had some firsts I don't particularly want to mention... got my first moving violation.  (I had my first and only parking ticket for parking outside of my own house in California a few years ago... so this wasn't my first ticket, just my first, well, speeding ticket.)  Last year, I painted my room for the first time ever.  This week, I repainted part of it.  I sent something as classified mail for the first time... and took a driver's safety course for the first time.  (Ah, Texas and getting rid of speeding tickets.)  I also went to the emergency room for the first time on July 4.  Not my emergency, but my dad's.  He is doing much better.  For the first time ever, also, I have had to fight with bed bugs.  I have never dealt with these before and they are the most annoying creatures on the planet.  My hand and arm were covered with bites this morning.  I have been washing my sheets almost daily, constantly cleaning, and sprinkling/dumping diatomaceous earth in select spots around my bed and room.  I hate this and I hate them with a passion.  I declare war.  And I plan to win.

I want to be somebody's dream girl.

ring size 5

My sister is getting married in seven months, and I will be her maid of honor.  When she got engaged she and her fiance both went to a jeweler to have their fingers sized for rings.  Neither she nor I have ever been much of ring wearers.  Occasionally as kids we would get rings as prizes or something, but they never quite fit right... and we had no idea of our sizes.  We've had several conversations about this over the past couple months, because she wants to know my size so that someday if some guy wants to marry me and comes to her for my ring size she'll know and I could totally be swept away by a surprise ring and proposal.  But... I'm too lazy to go to a jewelry store... and I don't want to spend a lot of money on jewelry for myself.  My mom's wedding ring fit me perfectly when I tried it on for fun the other day, and my sister's ring is too big for me.  My sister is a six.  My mom said her ring was a five.  I assumed I was a five and a half... so, the other day when I was shopping online at kohl's I decided to see if I could find a five or a five and a half.  I found a size five sterling silver ring on clearance and paid about $8 for it.  It came in the mail today and fits my ring finger pretty perfectly.  My finger isn't used to having a ring on it, but I think any larger would make it a little loose.  I don't plan to wear this ring as any kind of a promise ring from a boy -- I bought it for me, from me.  I don't plan to wear it as a form of purity ring, though I'm not against the concept of purity.  Right now I'm thinking it will be sort of a promise to myself that I will not settle for someone who isn't good enough for me, who doesn't treat me as I ought to be treated, who makes me feel less than I ought.  It's a reminder that I don't need a man in order to wear pretty jewelry, that I can buy it for myself, that I can be my own person, that I don't need a man to somehow be complete.  This is not me giving up on relationships or saying I want to be alone for the rest of my life, no.  This is me realizing that it's ok to navigate the waters of life without a lover on my arm, that I can stand on my own two feet, as I always have, and I will be ok.  When the right man comes along, we can stand on our own four feet, next to each other and walk life together, arms and hearts linked.  But this ring says, "Jennifer, hold out for the right man."

...

The next guy who wants to date me needs to pursue me.  Like seek me out.  Really want me.  Make me feel wanted.  Maybe love me just a little more than I can believe someone would love me.  Show me I'm worth his time.  Because if not, maybe he's not worth mine.

a year...

A year ago I was in South Carolina to be a bridesmaid in my good friend Melody's wedding.  A year and a half ago I was talking with a friend I hadn't seen in nearly 5 years and joking (only sort of) about how I should bring him as a plus one to this wedding -- I mean, we were both friends of the bride from high school and I wanted to catch up with him again at some point anyway.  What better place than a wedding?  About a year and a week ago I drove up from Texas to Arkansas to pick up my friend for the wedding.  He made me food and we sat and ate and talked, then drove.  Through the night.  That was my idea.  I sort of wanted to see if we could, you know, drive straight through.  A personal dare to adventure.  I drove for awhile, but he ended up driving through most of the night, good because I become a raving lunatic at about 3am after no sleep.  (Ok, not raving lunatic, I just get really silly, and I probably would not have been a safe driver.)  We talked the whole 12 or so hour (I don't remember how long it was) drive.

This was the beginning.  We started talking.  In November we started dating long distance.  We haven't stopped talking.  I really like this guy.  I'm glad all the pieces have come together to let us be where we are right now.  This last year has been an interesting turn of events, a fabulous whirlwind.  I hope the next is just as wonderful and mysterious, but mostly wonderful.

The Pizza Man and the Mysterious Raindrop

This is something else I wrote many years ago and found in an old notebook.  It's silly, but here it be:

The day held much promise as the Pizza Man and his cronies started about the factory. 'Twas the year 3025, the human race having long ago been annihilated.  Artificial Intelligence roamed the earth -- robots of all shapes, sizes, and purposes.  For the past hundred or so years not a drop of water had landed on the planet earth and all the lakes, streams, and oceans had frozen and lay stagnant, cloaked in darkness.  It was the great Ice Age, but none of the beings on planet earth were effected.  Pizza Man worked in a factory which created hover cars -- the latest and greatest -- and he was one of the richest robots in all of Europia.

As Pizza man walked outside to test the newest hover car that mysterious day in January, he felt a strange substance falling from the sky, and as he looked up to see where it had come from he saw a bright light and fell backwards to the ground, blinded.  Hearing a crash, the other employees hobbled out to register what had happened.  They, too, felt mysterious drops coming from above and they, too, looked up and were blinded.  'Twas the enigma that several centuries past was a commonality, but this new generation of robots were not created fro the new climate which had suddenly spread across the earth.  Elsewhere in the world a miner's tunnel through the ice was suddenly filled with water.  All the ice was melting.  The whole world face a second destruction: the destruction of the robotic race.  These new elements which previously had brought joy and growth to humanity now only brought calamity.  All beings are created for survival in certain climates in which they live.  If that climate changes too quickly, the beings are nearly instantaneously wiped out.

...one would wonder why "Pizza Man" was named after a food item when robots required no food for survival.  But I suppose that's another story for another day...

Belonging

I was flipping through some old notebooks today and came across this, which I wrote in Spring of 2008:

Place of Belonging
Why do you keep hiding from me?
I think that I've found you
But then I have to leave.
Many tears fall,
I grieve.
Show yourself to me.

I've heard I can belong
Without a place to call my own
Ties in my heart, a friend...
But no-place is my home.

I want to make my home
Among all the people
With ties to my heart --
My home is in the faces and smiles,
Not just oriental isles
Or half-a-hundred states
But in those people I call
My friends, my peeps, my mates

needing a change? or just wanting a little control.

Every once in awhile (every couple months?) I feel the urge to change something in my life.  Usually this is manifested in a deep room cleaning and re-arrangement.  I literally move the furniture and find new places for stuff.  If you know me well you may have noticed this about me.  It's not always furniture, though, and right now I quite like how my room is set up.  It's like I get this urge to change something in my life.  I used to wonder about this, because although I've lived a life of constant moves and changes I have never been that big a fan of change.  So why do I get the urge to inflict change on myself?  I don't think it's been me, in any way, trying to somehow better myself so that I would deal with change better -- you know, some kind of virtuous exercise -- no.  I think it's me feeling like my life is out of control and needed to somehow reel it in and control it.  I can't change other people.  I can't change certain circumstances.  Other ones would be stupid to change until the timing is right.  I can take control of my home environment -- how it's decorated and arranged and I can take control of myself, and there are probably a few other things I can choose to control.  These are what I subconsciously focus on when I feel out of control.  I clean and rearrange my room or I do something to alter myself (usually my hair... sometimes me choosing to wear makeup/be a little more high maintenance.)
Last Fall I chose to henna my hair and probably have re-arranged my room a few times since then.  Today I chose to cut my hair.  Not just a trim.  Maybe like 6 inches.  Something totally noticeable.  It's still a straight cut, but it's shorter, less heavy, more manageable, less hot.  It instantly put me in a better mood.  I haven't truly cut my hair for a couple years.  I have trimmed it an inch or two every once in a great while but I'm not much for hair cuts.  I tend to like how I look with my hair long.  And I don't budget for haircuts.  I do them myself.

So friends, behold:

stepping, leaping, flying

Life is a very step by step process.  Sometimes I dislike process or wish it could be less involved, simpler, something.  I'm thinking of many things here.  I'm thinking of relationships and how I wish, sometimes, that they could progress more quickly.  I'm thinking of my broken kiln and the steps I have to take to repair it.  I'm thinking of my job.  I'm thinking of how I need to get from what I'm doing in life to what I want to be doing, from where I am to where I want to be.

It seems there isn't one path that a person must follow in life, but many.  In fact, it's more like a vast field with no paths, and each must cut their own.  I feel very bewildered as a traveler, holding my machete for cutting a path through the brush (ok, so, it's more brush than field.  field is too easy), not sure what direction the path should go.  And should it be straight, winding... will going towards this tree or that bush somehow effect my life in a drastic way that I don't want or do?  As I look frantically at the brush that seems so daunting and the large sharp blade in my hand I wonder how so many people before me have found paths to cut and have been happy with those choices.  I try and find people I know on the various paths they have made through the brush, hoping maybe we can cut a path together, but I mostly see faces unknown to me.  So much is unknown.  I sit on the ground, take my machete, and whittle away at a stick.  I rearrange rocks on the ground.  I think of my childhood partially spent in a village where I would sit on the ground playing with rocks and sticks and sand.  I'm still that same child, just a little older and now having to make her own path.  I don't know if I like this thing called growing up.  I grab my knees with my hands and rock for awhile, tears streaming down my face.

This is how I felt today.  So many unknowns, so many things that I'm just not satisfied with right now.  I need to continue my path, but I have a feeling it's about to make some interesting turns and I'm not sure I'm ready to cut those.  Sometimes I wish someone would come along, take my hand, and say, "This way!  Let's go this way!".

...

I'm falling apart.  Like my kiln.  Like my life.  I feel so lost.

to be?

To be or not to be, that is the question.

Well, I think I would rather be than not be.  What do I want to be when I grow up?  Well, when I grow up, I want to be.  I'm not sure what job would give me the most satisfaction, but I kind of want that job.  I think I would like working in camp administration or something.  I remember when I worked at Mt. Hermon thinking how I would have enjoyed being one of the registration people.  I feel like office work is low key and energizes me for my time off work rather than wearing me out.  I want to live a simple life and I want to enjoy my life.  I don't think I'm suited for big city living.  Whenever I'm stressed out I want to crawl into a metaphorical (or real would work, too) cave and curl up in a ball and pretend that nothing exists.  I also joke about getting a cabin in the woods and living as a hermit.  It's only partially a joke.  I feel like I am a mixture of contradictory notions.  I am creative and can feel wildly imaginative, but I am very down to earth and practical.  I come across as extroverted sometimes because I enjoy people and use up my energy on them, but they use up my energy.  I need solitude to recharge.  I delight in the idea of grand adventures, but I am most often found (when not at work) sitting alone in my room.  I wish I had no debt and could figure out a way to live off the land or to live on very little.  I feel like once my student loans are paid off I will feel more freedom to find a more interesting way to live my life.  I don't think I will stay in Dallas.  But I don't know where I will go, or why I will leave Dallas, except that I have no particular affinity for it.  I am simultaneously spread out and grounded.  I don't know what I will do.  I don't oppose new things, but trying new things is also scary for me.  But it's ok.  Loans, I haven't conquered you yet.  You anchor me here to a job and a cheap place to live.  And I guess I have to be ok with that for now.

the retail diet.

I know, I'm just certain of it that this will go viral and "the retail diet" will be the craziest new weight loss fad!  No, actually, there are plenty of people who could not endure retail work long enough to actually see any weight loss benefits.  After a year and eight months or so working retail I have probably lost close to 20 lbs.  a much needed 20 lb loss.  I feel significantly lighter, healthier, happier, more energetic, less self conscious... it's wonderful.  I say close because I actually don't document any of this, I just have a vague idea of what was and what is.  Here's how the diet works: get a job in retail.  end of story.  Actually, I find that when I have to drive 25 miles to and from work, and when I have to stand, walk, and run all around a store all day, I don't really have much time to think about food.  There isn't the temptation of snacking mindlessly out of boredom.  Also, I'm cheap and like easy food, so I bring the same, easily microwaveable, small lunch every day.  And a granola bar.  I try to eat breakfast in the morning and a little something when I get off work.  But the needed exercise part of a healthy lifestyle is built in with the job.  Eating less is built in with the job.  As I said, there is little time to think about food.  And if I eat too much on my lunch break I don't have the energy right away to dive back into work.  Retail keeps me very busy.  Being very busy keeps me losing weight.  It's a win-win.  I have had people tell me that I shouldn't focus on weight, but it is really a small part of my life focus.  What I want is self improvement -- to be healthier, somewhat more fit, to be more self confident.  I don't care to be stick thin.  I don't plan to get there.  Losing around 10 lbs a year when a person is overweight is not crazy.  I don't take any weird diet supplements (although annoyingly customers recommend them to me from time to time - what, do you think I need them?! that's somewhat insulting), I just live, eat a little less, and put my focus on things other than food.  The weight rolls off.

a different kind of raindrop?

I have spent way too much of the last couple days lost in thought, and also drenched in tears.  Suffice to say?  I have a lot on my mind.  It isn't depression.  Depression is different.  Depression I hardly have the will to cry.  There might be some exhaustion involved, but that's not really it either.  I'm sad.  And I don't know how to stop the tears from flowing.  It's making me re-consider a lot of things.  What in my life do I need to do to be less sad?  New job?  Maybe.  Today I certainly felt so.  I feel like in most parts of my life I give and give and give until it's all used up and there is nothing left.  I feel that way in some of my relationships, and I feel that way at work.

ashes, ashes, we all fall down!

My little world seems to be dis-assembling before my eyes.  I sometimes hate growing up.  I want to be the little girl forever who stares in be-wonderment at the world and believes it to be a beautiful place, who treats it like a beautiful place, and makes it a more beautiful place.  Beauty is very important to me I think -- as an ideal, not a facade.  I thought one thing and now I'm discovering something completely different.  Can I start over, call a re-do?  But ashes, ashes, we all fall down.  And out of the ashes a phoenix rises.

...

I'm wading again through the waters called faith, and being a Christian.  Waters I don't tread often in posts.  I had a friend recently tell me that I was "one of the best Christians he knows" and it sat weird with me.

I grew up as the daughter of missionaries, and from the age of two I considered myself a Christian.  (I prayed to ask Jesus into my heart when I was two, almost three.)  I was taught from a young age what it was to be a Christian, to love Jesus and trust him with your life.  That was demonstrated for me time and again as my parents struggled through what it meant to be missionaries in a foreign country, living off the support of people who believed in their cause and that what they did was making a difference.  I remember hearing how they lost support sometimes over stupid things like what version of the bible they read.  (Apparently someone thought that all bible translation was done from the NIV, which is false, and they were not OK with that as they were staunch KJVers.)

I remember when I was little I would pray about all the little silly things that would come to my mind because I genuinely believed that there was a God and that he would answer my prayers.  And the cool thing is that he did.  I remember praying for Tracy Rectanus when she was kidnapped by a militant group along with Carol Allen (who would later be my fourth grade teacher)  I remember going to the mail room in Bagabag where the notice was posted and just thinking how I needed to do something about it!  I wasn't even in kindergarten yet.  They were both released and not harmed.

I remember one day that it was raining really hard and I started picking stuff up off the floor and the bottom levels of our bookshelves because I didn't want to lose anything when it flooded.  My mom told me to not worry about it and go to bed -- she didn't think it would flood.  It never had.  I had this feeling I needed to keep going.  That night, water crept into the house and we woke up to two inches all over the floors.  (Not a bad flood inside, but in the street it was over 4 ft.)  I have always believed that God had his hand in that and that he urged me, as a little girl, to keep picking up everything off the floors in preparation for what was coming.

In second grade I got ready to go back to California for a year and I was deathly afraid of the public school system.  I had heard horror stories from my friends.  My mom told me to pray about it because we couldn't afford private school there.  I did, and soon after we got word of a Christian school my aunt was teaching at, and that she could pay the tuition.  She had set it aside for her son who would be entering kindergarten, but as a teacher there she learned that he could get in for free.  She payed my tuition instead.

I was also baptized in second grade, on Easter Sunday.  The pastor asked me ahead of time, what baptism symbolized to me, like, if I was to draw a picture of it, what sort of picture would I draw?  I told him that baptism was like Jesus dying and being raised again from the dead.  We, as Christians, go under the water, like we are dead and being buried, and then we come up again in new life.  I don't know where I came up with that, but it is actually very scriptural.  "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.  The life I live in the body I live through faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me."

I had a very strong Christian upbringing.  I would write songs to God and I loved singing praises to God.  I fully believed that he loved me and looked out for me.  I still believe these things, but not without doubts.

I grew up attending a school for missionary kids.  I also attended a Christian private school for third grade in California and a private Christian University for college.  I only spent one year of my life in the public school system, eighth grade.  Man was that an eye opening year!  In all my private Christian education I had continuous bible classes.  In high school I had to have a bible class every semester.  In college, I had to take thirty units of bible, which equated to a minor, and had to go to 30 chapels a semester.  There were so many bible requirements I felt over fed, if anything.  I didn't take joy in chapels and bible courses.  I did well in them without putting out a lot of effort because it was the same stuff I had been taught my whole life.  I lost my appetite for spiritual learning and direction.  I began to wonder if what I believed was because it was what I was taught my whole life and told to believe or if it was really real.  I felt like if my faith was real I would want to study scripture and I would want to attend chapel.  I also stopped attending church regularly.  I would go from time to time, but I had those required chapels during the week anyway.

Yet, I know that it's real even if it's not a strong faith, because I do take so much joy in God.  I do delight in scriptures -- especially Ecclesiastes.  I'm not sure why that's my favorite bible book.  Part of me thinks it's because it's an odd book to have as a favorite.  "vanity of vanities, all things are vanity and a chasing after the wind."... meaningless, meaningless.

I think what makes me doubt that I'm a good "Christian" is that I love God but I'm not so sure about the church.  I think the church has made a lot of mistakes and has made a bad name for themselves.  I'm also not a fan of the way the church has "marketed" itself over the years.  I think the idea of Christian marketing is odd to begin with, because the church should not be about being trendy and branding something to be cool.  I think of all the slogans like "What Would Jesus Do?" and "True Love Waits" and I'm sure there are others... and all the Christianese that has been used over the years.  I say, stop putting up facades and live real life.  Real life is not trendy and it's not butterflies and rainbows.  But God didn't promise that life would be butterflies and rainbows.  There is so much legalism in the church.  There are also a lot of people who stretch what scriptures say and use them for their own greed or their own selfish purposes.  There are people who don't understand what it means to love God and pour out that love on other people.  They are all about condemnation, but not about lifting up and redeeming.  Brokenness ought not to be more shattered, but to be healed and redeemed.  And all mankind is broken.  But all mankind ought to be cherished.  Life ought to be cherished.

I love worshipping God, but I don't love the way that the people who say they are Christians live.  I don't think as many people actually live for God as claim that faith.  And I often wonder if my lack of involvement in corporate religion makes me somehow less of a good Christian than I am.  My faith tends to be a little more private than it probably ought.

seeing sunrise

I woke up to the sunrise, to gorgeous pink clouds streaming across the sky.  I haven't seen the sunrise in a while, and I certainly wasn't so suddenly awake the last time I saw it.  There's something about not having to be up early and not having work mixed with anticipation, excitement, and probably some adrenaline (those all go hand in hand) that won't let me stay asleep.  I'm not sure whether I will cry with joy or jump higher than I ever have before, but I know that when I see you all I will want to do is bury myself in your arms.  And I don't think I'll want to let go.  (But, in time, my arms will tire, and I will).  I wish our time was longer, or that time would just stand still for awhile.  But dear, I'll take and cherish every moment I am given.  I'm not sure how I came to feel this way, with so many miles between you and I - life is a whirlwind of delightful surprises - but I think it's ok, and I think it's ok I'm not sure quite how the whirlwind brought us from there to here -- I'm certainly happy that it has.

birthdays and timezones. (and the zodiac?)

I probably come back to this at least yearly.  Well, since moving back to the United States.  I was born in the Philippines at 5am on March 11 twenty-four years ago.  When it is 5am on March 11 in the Philippines, it is 3pm Central time in the United States, and it is March 10.  My birthday is March 11, but on March 10 in the U.S. it is already March 11 in Manila.  So, one could argue that I was born on March 10.  I normally don't pay attention to the zodiac or horoscopes, but I occasionally find them interesting.  It recently occurred to me that the date I claim as my birthday could change some things regarding these.  It would be interesting to find out what time zone horoscopes are based off of.  It seems that would make a difference in the results.  I also find it fascinating that I was born during a full moon.  It was a truly full moon on March 11, and only an almost full moon on March 10.  I'm fascinated somewhat by the way the phases of the moon effect the earth and thus find it interesting to see what phase of the moon I was born under.

24.

There are 24 hours in a day, which seem somehow shorter as years go.  And now, if you could call each hour of a day a year, you would have my life in years, in a day.  This year has just begun, but I feel already that it could hold some magic and wonder and mystery, piping with joy and beauty and song.

church and art and stuff

Tonight I'm thinking a little bit about the church, churches, and about art in the church.  Fitting topic it seems for a Sunday evening.  Right now I feel a little between churches.  There was a bit of an emotional upheaval for me in the church I attend, and I have starting attending less regularly.  The church is the body of believers.  Churches are groups of these believers who meet on a regular basis.  In churches there ought to be love, community, camaraderie, family, uplifting of those who are down, weeping with those who weep, rejoicing with those who rejoice.  In the church, instead, I see a lot of disjointed people, perhaps a dysfunctional family at its best.  I remember in college one of my professors saying how important it was to make yourself a part of a church and to become involved in that church despite its imperfections, because churches are made up of people who are imperfect.

I don't know what I would look for in a church, but I think that being surrounded by people who know me, and choose to love me and lift me up, and who I can know, love, and lift up -- to be a part of a vibrant community is important.  I think humility in the leadership is important.  I think that embracing the young people along with the older people in the church is important.  I think it's important to give young people a place to serve and to grow and give in the church.  I think art and music, and worship are important in the church.  Our God is a creative God who created the world, who created us, and who created us to be creative.  Using talents God has given is such a natural form of worship.

I'm currently thinking back to my senior art show that was based on cathedral window imagery and I think about some of the things that influenced that show.  I was interning for Denise Weyhrich and Seeds Fine Art Exhibits at the time, and Denise showed me some Cathedral tiles that she was given from some Cathedral in Europe that she planned to make a part of a piece along with cast oil lamps and some ceramic relief tiles.  The patterning to me was beautiful.

I started looking at cathedral imagery, first at the floors, but was immediately drawn to the windows -- not to the stained glass storytelling but to the stone and ironwork that held the glass in place.  I was also mesmerized by the idea of all the light that would flood through those windows in various colors and glory.  When I was a little girl I attended a church that had a tall dome ceiling in the middle of the sanctuary.  I remember staring up at the ceiling and feeling somehow like I could stare in the heavens if I stared far and long enough.  Lifting my eyes up in worship and having light pouring down through windows in the ceiling always made me feel closer to God somehow, like light was the presence of God streaming in.  The windows I made for my show came from a place of brokenness and trying to put broken pieces back together again, to find wholeness in God and in his light.

I think the problem with the church is that we are a broken people, and so often it is difficult to humbly admit that.  Yes, God takes our brokenness and redeems us, uses us as vessels for his glory, but none, not one of us, is perfect.  And in this we need to learn to love and cherish one another and serve each other humbly.  We are all works in progress with room to learn and grow.

isfx

I try not to focus too much on personality typing because it's easy to go too far in creating unmoving boxes for myself and others.  Yet, every once in awhile I look at it all again and I find a bit of clarity.  I have always tested as an ISFJ, but have frequently considered that personality type to be boring and wondered if I could be something more wonderful like an ISFP.  Then I have analyzed what types others must be and looked at the type relationships between those.  Sometimes I get far too caught up and I have to stop and put it all out of my mind for a time.  This morning, in some just-got-up hazy confusion and feeling a need for peace of mind and clarity I read through type descriptions again and realized that ISFJ does fit me pretty well.  ISFP fits me alright, too, but I think I do lean more J.  I'm not as adventurous and spur of the moment as I would like to believe.  Regardless, I am certainly an ISF.  The last letter is a bit fuzzy sometimes.  I find typing useful in understanding myself better and having a starting point for understanding other people.  I think it is just that, a starting point for understanding, not a palm reading or something that says exactly how your life with turn out.  It categorizes the way a person understands and interacts with life.  I find it useful for reminding me of my downfalls as well as my strengths, that I might better interact with people and with life.

...

On my way home from work today I was thinking about how random and fascinating my life must seem to some people.  I mean, I was born and grew up in the Philippines.  I lived in California when I was 3 and 8 and then when I moved there for college.  I lived in Washington State when I was 13.  When I was 22 I moved from California to Texas, effectively moving "home" to live with my parents after college, but I had never lived in Texas before, hence moving "home" was the idea of moving to live with my parents, not a familiar place.  At 23 I was a bridesmaid in one of my best friend's weddings... in South Carolina... and got to meet up with a good friend from high school again who I started dating a few months after that.  Oh, btw, he lives in Arkansas.  To simplify, I grew up in the Philippines, went to college in California, am now living in Texas, and somehow I'm dating a guy in Arkansas.  My life is so spread over so many places.  Yet, I feel very little connection to each place.  It is in the people that I find my home, and in that, as long as I have connections everywhere, everywhere can be home.  (Though, simultaneously, nowhere is.)

when I grow up

You know, I'm not sure we ever stop growing up.  And I'm not sure we ever reach a point where we feel like we have "made it."  At least I haven't.  I know I'm young yet, but I'm not sure I ever will.  When I was in elementary school I thought that when I grew up I would go to school for art, then start my own teddy bear factory and live on the Yakima River in Washington and own horses.  I also planned to return to the Philippines and teach art at my alma mater.  Back then I didn't know what an alma mater was.  I have come so far.  Right now I can say that I have followed the first step of my childhood dreaming - I have a college degree in art.  I don't know if I want to start a teddy bear factory anymore.  People I tell that dream to are like, "oh, like build-a-bear?"  so I guess it's been done.  But not like build a bear.  Like the book on teddy bear factories I read in elementary school with the big machines that cut out all the bear pieces in multi-quantities and I would design and oversee them all.  I had an "International Collection" all planned with ethnic garb, and everything.  I named the future company "Sweet Dreams Teddy Bear Factory."  Of course this was all because I had an assignment to write about my future dreams and had to come up with something, and I liked art and teddy bears and had recently read the book about teddy bear factories.  (Also, my aunt whom I absolutely loved owned horses and my grandparents lived on the Yakima River.)

Now that I'm out of college I'm like, "what was that for?"... I studied something I loved because I wanted to do it, forever.  But real life struck and said, "but you have student loans!  and even if you didn't, it's really tough to support yourself with an artist's salary!"... I was going to be smart at first and study graphic design, because you can actually make money with that.  But I'm a rolling in the mud traditional media girl.  I like my art to be in your face and on my face, to come out of the studio surrounded by a halo of charcoal dust, grinning, looking like I just emerged from the coal mines.  I know I could make my work more digital, but that still wouldn't solve the problem that I like doing art because it's art, not because someone needs a cool looking sign for their company or some logo and letterheads designed.  I'm not actually that interested in that stuff.  I could do it, but it doesn't bring me the same joy that I have seen it bring others who were actually made to be designers.  No, I'm a studio artist.

I got a day job out of college.  I had to pay off those loans and live somehow!  (the real secret was moving home.  My parents have been lifesavers when it comes to me, well, not dying.)  I don't know what my plan was.  I didn't have one.  The job was to buy time until I found something that I loved more or some reason to move away again.  Neither has happened yet.  And the day job has actually grown on me.  Well, I never disliked it, anyway, I just found it exhausting.  And now that my day job has turned into a full-time day job it's exhausting full time!  (The good part is that my loans are being fed and destroyed, the bad part is that I have less time and less energy in that time to figure out what I really want to do when I grow up.)

My problem is that I'm not sure what I'm looking for.  And I'm not very good at putting myself out there.  Part of it is that I'm not really aware, I think, of what skills I have and what those would qualify me for.  I keep going back to this notion about starting my own business, but I know that's a lot of work.  When I was in elementary school -- yes, I'm going back again to my primary days -- the way I figured it, when I was older if I couldn't find a job I would make a job.  I would open my own store where I would sell handmade things like cards and handbags and other gift shop type things.  I still have this urge sometimes.  My ideas for handmade things have become more elaborate, though.  I want to make my own handmade books and journals -- maybe even write, illustrate, and bind my own storybooks.  I want to make my own ceramics -- functional tea sets and other unique functional and decorative ware.  I could also sell hats, scarves, afghans -- anything crocheted.  I like making a lot of things, and I would love a job where I could be paid to make stuff.  The problem is that I'm slow to get the ball rolling, and again, I'm bad at marketing myself.

Maybe when I grow up I'll own my own tea and gifts shop, or maybe I'll do something even more spectacular than that, something I have yet to imagine.  A girl has got to dream if she ever hopes to reach the stars.

that day with hearts.

Well, friends, Valentine's Day is in less than a week.  This means that more and more customers will come in to my work frantically looking for last minute Valentine projects and cards and will be more and more disappointed with how little the store has left to offer.  I think it's interesting, working in retail it's like I'm living a few months in the future.  In my store it's simultaneously Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, and Easter.  And it's definitely not winter anymore.  The Spring florals, pinwheels, and cute other home decor all claim otherwise.  (Then we look outside and it's snowing.  At least last week.)

This is my first year ever to actually care that Valentine's Day is less than a week away.  What does a girl do for a guy for Valentine's Day that is not over the top but also not under?  I've never had to think about this before.  I think it would be somewhat easier if I actually planned to see him on Friday, but we both work and will probably be limited to Skype.  Anything I give him has to be planned ahead.  Like right now.  So I can send it through the mail.  Or does anyone have any good ideas?  I know that people should feel appreciated every day of the year, not just on special days like this - which one can argue was crafted by the greeting card companies... but still, it's nice to have a day to say, "yeah, you know, I kind of sort of like you."

full time

This full time thing is really kicking the wind out of my sails.  Starting the beginning of this year, I now work around 40 hours a week instead of, well... 25-30?  Those extra hours have made more of a difference than I thought they would.  I used to watch shows, for instance, on hulu.  I would sometimes marathon them when I had an evening to myself and needed down time.  Now I go to my hulu queue and see that I'm behind by 30+ episodes and I don't always have energy to pay attention to even one.  My weekends are significantly sweeter, but they seem to go by faster, too.  I think about visiting friends then take a nap instead.  I'm not sure the point of this post, but I guess I'm more worn out now with these extra hours than I was before.  Full time is a positive thing, but it's also, well, full time.

distance.

On Friday I was at work, cashiering, and there was a bit of a lull, not too busy, but there was one girl, probably in late middle or early high school, waiting to check out, but rather distracted by a phone call.  I called out, "next in line!"... and she didn't notice, so I just waited a little while until there was someone waiting behind her and called again and smiled and waved her down.  She came happily and put her skeins of yarn she was buying on the counter and I checked her out and gave her a total, and she was still on the phone but trying to finish the call.  When she finally hung up she sighed heavily -- a heartsick kind of sigh -- and I just smiled at her and gave her the change I owed her and then she kind of spilled about how her friend had just moved away and how hard it was and I told her that I understood, because I moved a lot and it's not fun to leave or be left -- though I said that it was somewhat better for the person leaving because they lost something but also gained the possibility of new adventures.  The person left only loses something, nothing is really gained.  I also mentioned how much better it is now when someone leaves than, say, 50 years ago because it's so easy to contact each other with phones and on the internet... and she was like, "yeah, and I guess there's summer."  She was a sweet girl, we talked for a couple seconds and she thanked me for listening, then went on her way.

This exchange made me happy in an odd way, I guess because I got where she was coming from -- it's not cool to be left behind, or to have someone you care about far away.  I've always had to figure out how to keep friendships alive from a distance because I have lived a life of constant flux surrounded by others who were also very transient.  It's not easy.  In many of my long distance friendships I feel like I have failed, because I'm not good at keeping in contact with people I don't regularly see.  It takes a conscious effort.  I'm debating the accuracy of my comment to the girl about how it's easier to leave than be left.  I think that may be true in some cases, but it's not universal.  When you move from one place to another, and you were established in that place there is comfort in the familiarity of friendships, school, house, neighborhood, church... all these things go away when you move someplace else.  Friendships start again from ground zero, you have to get used to a new school, new teachers, new classmates, a new house, neighborhood, church -- sometimes there are new cultural norms to adjust to -- moving someplace new requires a time of adjustment.  Being left, you remain adjusted except that one person who once was there now is not, so anything in your life that that person was a part of changes, but the rest remains the same.

I think about distance a lot because of my life experiences, and also because all of my closest friends right now are far away.  My favorite person, the man I am dating, is far away.  It's difficult, but I think it's worth it.  I think he is worth it.  I'm not dating just to date -- in fact, before now I've never actually been in a relationship.  I guess this guy must be pretty important to me.  Not only did I say yes to dating, but I said yes to long distance dating.  (Honestly, how would I know the difference?  I've never tried dating any other way.)  Do I feel heartsick?  yes, today.  not every day.  Do I miss him?  always.  Is it worth it?  definitely.

...

This long distance thing is an emotional roller coaster.  All I want is to put my arms around you, hold on and never let go.  Instead I find myself in a chair on my porch watching the sun go down and staring into the sky, trying to imagine what you could be doing under that same sky as tears fill my eyes.  Why did my heart have to choose someone so far away?  Didn't it know that loving from a distance is harder than loving near?  My idealism says that love conquers all things, even time, even distance, but do you love me?  I know that you don't worry about things that you cannot immediately change, and that you don't worry about our relationship, but I can't help but feel like this relationship is in limbo, like we're waiting for it to really start but we don't know when or how.  And I know I'm being emotional right now and that when I'm emotional I tend to blow things out of proportion, but I think I need to know that I'm important to you and that you love me.