Don't get your hopes up...

I'm not really posting. What I need is for you (yes, all of you, because the only people who read this are my close friends) to read this following narrative/personal inquiry and respond to it in the comments section.

Ok, so here's the deal: this thing is kind of long. I'm sure you've noticed that by now. If you don't have time to read it, I understand. No big deal. However, if you can and are willing, I would be very grateful.

Disclaimer: I have reservastions about posting this because it so personally examines me, and it involves Kris and Em. You two better know that I love everything about both of you, and this paper is supposed to be a commentary/exploration of me and me alone.

Anyway, without further ado, here it is:

Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Journal entry
Dear journal:
Today was a wonderful day, until now. I hate the walk back to the dorm after rehearsal. For some reason I get contemplative, and my post-rehearsal musings have ruined many an otherwise lovely day. Apparently today is no exception. Tonight’s musings carried me back to this afternoon’s juggling practice. So, I guess its story time. Once upon a time, in a land of college students, frequent Spanish speaking, and non-indigenous palm trees, there lived a young woman, and she was learning, among other things, the art of juggling…
“Hey Mark, are you using these right now?”
“Nope, go for it.”
“Thanks. I haven’t practiced all week.”
“Didn’t you get some clubs for your birthday?”
“Yeah, but they’re really cheap, so I just left them at my house in Gilbert.”
“I’m sure someone here could scrounge up three for you if you want to practice during the week.”
“That would be great! Thanks Mark. I’ve just been doing three ball tricks during the week. I still don’t have the reverse cascade. The balls keep hitting each other.”
“It’ll come. You just have to keep trying. One time it’ll just click.”
“Yeah. I’ll keep at it.” I walked over to Mark’s gear and picked up his clubs.
“You hit yourself in the head yet?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, but at this point I can usually get my head out of the way.” Mark smiled and turned to juggle his other clubs, and I breathed a deep breath before clumsily throwing the first club into the pattern.
“Hey, how long have you been doing clubs?” Leah inquired.
“A couple weeks,” I replied.
“Wow, last time I was here, weren’t you just starting balls?”
“Yeah, well I’ve known the basic cascade since April, but everything else I started learning when you saw me last.”
“Well, you’re doing a great job.”
“Wow, thank you!” At this point, Dave asked Leah where she had been the last few weeks, and I turned my attention back to the clubs, grinning with satisfaction. My first toss was solid, my second toss too low, and my third outside of the pattern completely. I frowned. “Such improvement!” I thought to myself. Scanning the jugglers around me, I thought, “This is demoralizing. I’ll never be able to do that. Why do I even try?” I sighed and gazed down at the clubs in my hands. After a moment, I looked up, pursed my lips, inhaled and exhaled slowly through my nose, bent my knees slightly, and began my haphazard three-club pattern yet again. Practice makes perfect, after all.
An hour later, I heard the campus bells ring out, indicating it was 5:45 pm. “Oh, I have to go! I have to get dinner and go to play rehearsal.” Miraculously, I arrived at rehearsal with a minute to spare, despite the sloth-like pace of the Chickfila personnel that prepared my order. Rehearsal proceeded as usual, and although there were no mishaps, I approached my director afterwards to address something that bothered me. “Karole, can I ask you something?”
“Sure sweetie, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if you have any advice for me on how to be a queen. I’ve been working on it, but some things just don’t feel like Queen Gertrude just yet, and I’m not always sure what a queen would and would not do.”
She nodded understandingly, thought for a moment, and then began, “Well, you’re smoothing her out a little every time. And you carry yourself like a queen, and you speak like a queen—you know, welcoming and kind but sharp when you don’t get what you want. I don’t know, I could pay closer attention, but I think it’s all good. Your costume will help get rid of some of your not feeling queenly, and the rest is just you playing with the lines until they feel right.” By now we were walking out the door and were fixing to go our separate ways.
“Alright,” I said. She tilted her head, and examined my face.
“You’re doing fine,” she said tenderly.
“Thanks…”
“Really, you’re doing fine,” she reassured me.
“Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow, Karole,” I said, turning to go as her elevator opened and she stepped in. “Why can’t I just be happy with my acting?” I questioned aloud once outside. “Gah, I am pathetic! No one likes an unconfident actor! Snap out of it, Lindsey, seriously!” I felt nauseous and dizzy, my temples pulsated and my stomach churned. My escalating tirade was abruptly interrupted when my phone rang. I started at the sound. Then, glancing at the caller ID, I rolled my eyes and smiled. “How does she always know when to call?” I wondered to myself. “Hey, Kristen.”
“Hi Lindsey! “How are you?”
“I’m doing ok.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Man, I hate that she understands my euphemisms.” I thought to myself. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m just frustrated with myself again.”
“How come?”
“Well, I haven’t been feeling great about the work I’m doing as Queen Gertrude lately—not bad, just not stellar—and so I asked my director for advice and she didn’t really have any to give me but she told me I am doing fine.”
“So you’re doing fine. What’s the problem?”
“Well, I’m only doing fine, for one thing, but she doesn’t have any suggestions for making it better than fine. And it just seemed like she knew I was feeling insecure and that’s why she told me I’m doing fine. I mean, she did say that I’m doing a little better each time, and that I walk and talk pretty much like a queen but…oh, I don’t know. I was fishing for compliments again, and I hate it when I do that.”
“You keep telling me that you fish for compliments all the time, but I don’t see that. What do you mean?”
“Oh, I insult myself or downplay everything I do to hear people tell me I’m doing great…I can’t believe you don’t know that, I do it to you all the time. I guess you just don’t notice.”
“Well, why do you do that if you don’t want to?”
“I don’t know…I don’t know where it all comes from…I just wish it would go away.” My voice trailed off, and I fell silent. I was afraid to keep talking. I thought that if I did, soon I would be fishing for compliments by lamenting the fact that I fish for compliments, and that is an ironic level of pathetic that I wanted to avoid.
“Are you still there?” Kristen asked softly.
“Yeah, I’m just thinking.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about something that happened during rehearsal for Twelfth Night sophomore year.”
“You gonna tell me what it is?”
“Sure. We were recently off-book and rehearsing without our scripts, which means we started making more drastic character choices. You know, playing with the lines, defining our physicality, establishing chemistry with others on stage, and so on. And at the end of rehearsal every day, Ms. Biederman would give us notes. And one of the only notes she gave me was, ‘Lindsey, stop looking at me.’
I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I pretended to be confused and responded, ‘What do you mean?’
Of course she gave me the answer I expected, ‘Every time you say a line or make a decision, you look at me to see if I reacted or approved. You are the character. Just be the character, don’t look at me for endorsement.’
I smiled at her and diligently took down the note like a good actor should, but honestly, when she said that, my heart stopped for a moment. I felt like I was going to throw up. I couldn’t believe someone caught me being honestly, inexcusably self-conscious. It was the first time it manifested without me being in control, or without me masking it as a light dig at myself or misplaced modesty or something. It freaked me out.” Suddenly I didn’t want to talk anymore.
“Lindsey, are you there?”
“I’m here. Hey, I’m pretty tired. I think I’m just gonna go to bed. I’m totally fine, don’t worry about me. Just my usual self-deprecating tendencies. Nothing new. No worries, Kris, I really am fine. Please don’t worry about me, because I know you will, and you really don’t have to.” Lies, all lies…but I needed to think. “For once, deal with your own issues! Your issue is always looking for other people’s advice, for goodness sake! How do you expect to fix that by talking to someone else? It’s ludicrous!”
“Ok, Lindsey. I’ll talk to you later then, ok?”
“Yeah, for sure. Of course, Kris, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Alright. I love you!”
“I love you too, Kris. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I hung up the phone, and plopped down on a concrete bench near my dorm house. The area was quiet, with distant voices and cricket chirps warding off the eerie silence of night. A tree draped overhead, and the small leaves speckled the seat of the bench. It seemed a good place to think, so I set aside my backpack, turned off my phone, and settled in. “Why do I do this to myself?” I wondered helplessly. “What makes me so bent on being dissatisfied with everything I do?” I realized that I was being hard on myself for being hard on myself, and that would lead me no where positive. So instead of continuing down the path of self-reprimand, I forced myself to remember something good about myself. The first example that came to mind was the variety show.
Countless hours, a couple nervous breakdowns, and many, many post-it notes later, I managed to instigate, organize, promote, and host “A Night of Heroes: a Charity Variety Show” almost entirely by myself, even as a mere eleventh grader. Mr. Jordan had no faith in me, which is why he removed his support and the support of drama club, and almost caused the ruin of the entire thing. He was irritated to discover I found new sponsorship for the show, even after he went to another organization to finagle a promise not to lend their support (he underestimated my abilities). Consequently, his best friend Brian, the auditorium manager (who had to work the light and sound cues for my show as a part of his job), shared Mr. Jordan’s disdain for my endeavor. I remember one incident particularly clearly:
“Lindsey, I need to talk to you,” Brian said to me sharply. I stifled my disinclination to speak to him, and patiently accompanied him to the side of the stage.
“I can’t do anything with these,” he snapped, sweeping his arm angrily to gesture at the microphones lying on the floor.
“What do you mean?” I inquired, straining to appear calm. “These are the microphones you told me you needed for Advanced Vocal. These are what the choir director gave me.”
“I need the chords,” he said, as if everyone in the universe understood his unspoken needs except me.
“Where are the chords?”
“In the choir room.” Of course they were. The choir director had made it expressly clear that she was leaving early and was not coming back. Now it was 5 o’clock in the evening, the show was two hours away, and my opening act had no microphones.
“Do you have a key to the choir room?”
“Yes.”
“Can we go in there and get the chords, then?”
“No, they’re in the closet, and no one has a key to that except Miss Flint.”
“Uhh…ok, I’ll see what I can do.” I hurried out into the hallway and began to pray, “God, I don’t know what to do. Please, please, please help me.” At that moment, I turned the corner, glancing into the choir room as I passed by. Inside was a small, wrinkled Oriental woman eating dinner alone. “No way…” I knocked frantically on the door. She jumped in her seat, turned to see my eager face through the small window, got up, and opened the door.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a melodic tone.
“Do you have a key to that room?” I asked, pointing at the choir room closet.
“No, only head custodian have a key for there,” she explained.
“Who is the head custodian?”
“Bob.”
“Is Bob here?”
“Yes,” she replied gaily.
“Can you take me to him?” I asked, trying to suppress my giddiness until the chords were in my hands. Without saying anything, she smiled wide and led the way. After meeting Bob and quickly explaining my quandary, he gladly accompanied me back to the choir room and opened the door. Instead of retrieving the chords myself, I found Brian. “The door is open. Could you come with me and get whatever you need?” I cooed when I saw him. Appearing dumbfounded and slightly perturbed, he followed me to the room and got the chords.
“See?” I thought to myself, shifting into a cross-legged position on the bench. “Without my constant persistence, the variety show never would have happened.” For a moment I was satisfied. Unfortunately, I could not dismiss the issue so easily. “So why this confidence deficiency? If I am able to persevere in spite of obstacles in my path, like with juggling or the variety show, then why do I constantly long for overt, unmistakable, resounding affirmation from others? Why the unrelenting need for compliments? What moved me to ask Karole those questions? What caused me to unknowingly glance at Ms. Biederman’s face during rehearsals? And why are some compliments not good enough? Why were Leah’s and Karole’s compliments insufficient for me? Have I always been this way?” A breeze began to blow as I sat on the bench, struggling to recount a moment in my past that displayed the persistence with which I now attack everything in life, including myself. I drew my knees up to my chest, resting my chin between them, and let out a single shudder before adjusting to the cold and returning to my thoughts. “What about elementary school?” Nothing sprung to mind. “Maybe it wasn’t there yet…but then when?” As I mused over this point, I finally summoned one incident in the 5th grade, a story lovingly titled by those who have heard it, “The Band Aid Story.”
“Mr. Amerson, may I have a band aid?” I asked after he called on me.
“No.” He turned away and continued teaching.
“Is he serious? All I want is a band aid! Maybe he didn’t hear me…”
“Mr. Amerson,” I began again after he called on me, “can I have a band aid for my finger?”
“No.” Again he turned back to the lesson on the board. I raised my hand again.
“Can I have a band aid?” I asked after he called on me for the third time.
“No, Lindsey.”
“But…” I was cut off as he abruptly turned the other way. At this point my finger had lost hope of receiving a band aid and clotted itself, but it was the principle of the thing. I raised my hand again, wondering if he would call on me at all. For whatever reason, he did.
“Mr. Amerson, can I please have a band aid?”
“Lindsey, let’s say you’re a girl scout, and you are on a hike with them and you trip and scrape your knee. Now are you going to tough it out and keep going, or are you going to stop everything to ask for a band aid?” Without taking even a moment to think, I planted my hands firmly on the desk, looked him straight in the eye, and said,
“I’m going to stop and ask for a band aid.” He glared at me, and then quickly diverted his angry stare to the class, effectively silencing their giggles. Then, his head cocked and shoulders clenched by his ears, he walked back to the front of the classroom. A moment later, my arm was again in the air. Without a word, he marched over to his desk, opened a drawer, removed something, approached my desk, and set in front of me a band aid. With a slight air of triumph, I said sweetly, “Thank you.”
As my recollection ended, I felt a sudden chill, but the tree didn’t rustle, the leaves didn’t swirl, and it wasn’t cold outside. “When I got that band aid from Mr. Amerson, I got what I wanted—I accomplished my goal—but at a price. Now in various ways, I require band aids from people in order to feel accomplished in and of myself. Other people…the things I do are all defined by other people. I have reached the point where I need validation to confirm that whatever I am doing is correct, or that I am doing a good job. I need to get the band aid from people to prove that I needed the band aid. And I imagine my ideal band aid, inevitably setting the bar inordinately high, so that most compliments fall short of what I desired, and just make me feel worse! Consequently, I prolong every band aid request. Additionally, I have created a safety net for myself so that, if I am ever unable to pursue perfect correctness—if I ever stop asking others for band aids—then people know something is wrong, and the band aids are offered freely in droves. Like when I began college, I was incapable of mustering enthusiasm toward anything, and people recognized such a change in me that they rushed to offer their band aids…
“You’re strong, Lindsey. You’ll be just fine.” –Mom
“You can come home whenever you want.” –Dad
“I just wish I could make you feel better like you always make me feel better.” –Kristen
“You will make your best friends in college.” –Beth
“I know how you feel, Linds, but at least we’ll always be best friends.” –Emily
“How are you doing in college? Better?” –Jan
“Depression is not an uncommon thing, and there is no shame in getting help.” –Michal Ann
“I understand. It’ll get better.” –A slew of people
“Let’s bring this to Jesus together.” –Kelly
Wait…that last one wasn’t much of a band aid, but it stopped the bleeding. What Kelly said didn’t make me feel better about myself or my situation, but simply reminded me that Jesus is in me, and when I press into Jesus, even if I don’t get the band aid I am after, His ways are perfect and His life sustains me. I realized that, in order to stop needing band aids, I need to lean on Jesus. And that truth is still applicable! I guess I just forget at times." Rising to my feet, I breathed in the crisp night air and walked to my dorm, singing worship choruses as I went.

November 25, 2008
Facebook quandary
I am at a loss. How is it that I can’t even set my Facebook status anymore? This is ridiculous.

Lindsey is too sad to work…but she has to…

No way, that is a huge band aid request. Everyone and their mom and their dog would comment that status, attempting to make a good showing as a friend, not to mention Kristen and Emily would mobilize into Lindsey-is-depressed-we-better-pray mode and I don’t want to lay that on them.

Lindsey is feeling a little funky.

No, still too needy. I don’t want sympathy from Sarah and Laura, I want them to communicate with me freely of their own accord.

Lindsey doesn’t know what to say…

Well, obviously it is true, but it sounds depressed. They will know, and I will still feel like I elicited any communication they “initiate” which means the band aid will not make the bleeding stop. I want the bleeding to stop. What I really want is for the bleeding to stop starting!

Lindsey is confused.

Also true, and also too depressing. Why can’t I bring myself to type something that is neutral enough to satisfy me? Probably because describing my current status would include some emotional something-something since all I can think about at the moment is whether or not Sarah and Laura and the others in the cast like me enough to keep in contact with me and be friends with me on their own, away from the theatre department. But the only way to find out is…well, to lie about my status, for a start.

Lindsey has a lot of work to do.

Crap, I can’t leave that either. It just feels too deceptive, like all that I am thinking about is homework. That could not be farther from the truth.

Lindsey really needs Jesus.

That is always true, but Kristen’s Lindsey-is-invoking-her-reliance-on-Jesus-something-must-be-wrong antenna will go up, and unfortunately she would be right.

Lindsey is a dork.

Fine. I can live with that. “Dork” is my euphemism for “pathetic” and “needs to stop caring what people think” and “is dwelling too much on stupid things” and “should grow a spine!!!” and a myriad of other things, but it is nondescript enough that it should slip under everyone’s concern radar, so I feel secure that any communication after that status post will only happen if the person wants to talk to me.

Wait, how about this one: Lindsey loves Jesus!

Yes. It is accurate, it is impossible for it to evoke anything resembling sympathy, and it is still the truth at the core of my heart, even in the midst of my deep desire for band aids from people. Did I learn nothing from my night under the tree? And besides, neither Sarah nor Laura is a Christian, so this status won’t precipitate anything from them, which means if they do talk to me, it will be because they want to talk to me. I know in my mind that with Jesus, I don’t need it. I just hope my heart apprehends it so this doesn’t happen again…

November 25, 2008
Journal entry
Dear journal:
I am making cuts in other people! Every time I reach out for a band aid, I scratch the person giving it to me, but he or she loves me too much to say anything, to even make a sound or let loose an involuntary, “Ouch!” This very second I insulted my physical appearance in a text to Emily, and the reply was this: “Oh shut up. I’m going to be honest with you: it all starts with you. Before you will see any improvements (in your eyes) you first need to stop being so cynical towards yourself. You are at a healthy weight and you look fine. I am sorry to lecture but I tolerate the way you treat yourself but it is getting to be too much. I don’t know what is going through your head, but as your best friend this is me being honest to you.” Whoa. How did I screw this up so quickly? And someone finally said, “Ouch!” This has to stop.

Jesus, I see now that my desire for perfection in every aspect of my life has not only hurt me and made me question everything I am—everything you have made me!—but it also hurts the people around me. Even though my intentions were sometimes good, like with juggling and the variety show, and other times were not knowingly bad, like when I talked to Karole or commented to Emily, the problem is that I have made everything about me. I am so concerned with how others perceive me! That is why I work so hard to be good at everything, and when I feel like I am not doing well, I reach out to others to assure me that I am. Jesus, I don’t want to rely on the opinions and reassurances of other people. I don’t want to define who I am by the things I do. The things of this world, the effort I put forth in my own strength, is temporal and will pass away. And perfection—for all but you, Jesus—is a superstition, and I have blindly chased after it in hopes of validating myself, when all the time joy and peace that surpass understanding are in you.

Thanks for the comments, everyone...

Wow. Those comments on my last post were intense. Kristen went all "power to the people" on Tom! And you know what's funny? He was being nice to me about my social life. But she was all up on...nope, not going to finish that sentence. It will go no where good. Anyway, I appreciate the activity, even if it veered off on a random tangent... oh, by the way Tom, I enjoyed the double dig at Kristen by saying "Brevity is the sole of wit" in Spanish. Well played.

Oh Em: nice comment on the lovers' spat. I laughed. :)

Kristen, I don't mean to be mean to you in this post. Time to say something nice about you: I appreciate the time you devote to your comments! And yes Tom, that was a sincere compliment. :)

Oh, and let's not forget that the USSR had the upper hand in the space race to begin with, but the US triumphed in the end. So I willingly accept the analogy.

So I should be reading essays for English right now because I am about 14 essays behind...oh, and I need to buy ink. Rats. These essays suck out loud. The last one I read was a rant about how the movie Fight Club did not fit into his argument about the danger of capitalism (and I'm sitting there thinking, "If it doesn't support your point, why are you rambling about it?!"). The guy used some form of the word "pedagogy" 24 times. It was annoying. That word makes me think of churning milk to make cheese. I don't know why. I don't even know if that is how cheese is made. All of my lessons on the subject come from vague memories of Little House on the Prairie episodes.

So I have rehearsal tonight. I hope it goes well. We're blocking my biggest scene (not that big, mind you, but my biggest) and I just hope I have fun with my other cast members. I think I may be the only freshman, and it just seems like everyone already clicks. I know what that's like, except I'm usually one of the clickers. We shall see how this all pans out. I'll just be myself and try to be a good queen. A good queen in the sense of a queen that marries her husband's murder in order to maintain her own status...but hey, at least I get married! heh...

I also have mock trial this weekend. My first time and I signed up to be an attorney. That was stupid. But oh well. I'm going to try to find time to study the rules of evidence so I don't make a total fool of myself. I'm an actor, I'll pretend I know what I'm doing (yes Tom, it will first require me to pretend to be a good actor).

Well, I should pack up. My roommate just decided to take a nap, so I'm going to go to the library and read essays until rehearsal. Perhaps I will blog later.

Oh, and its official: I'm going to Texas for Thanksgiving! I am so excited to see my family (they're family to me!), but I am really bummed that I might not get to see Tom. What dates will you be home around Thanksgiving, Tom? Because my folks are picking me up from Tucson the Wednesday before and we're driving to Texas and we won't get back until Monday morning, and they're going to drop me off at UA, so I probably won't get to see you. :( That honestly saddens me. Kristen will be staying in California anyway because Arizona is now beneath her and thankfully I get to see Emily on a semi-regular basis so its not a total bummer that we'll miss Thanksgiving together. Speaking of which, Emily: you and me the weekend of October 25! That's when I'm coming home next, and I plan to not have homework if it is at all within my power. :) I guess this just means we have to hang out more over winter break, Tom. I miss you! Your comments make me miss you. I laugh all the time and probably freak out my roommate. But its not my fault my friends are so much cooler than hers.

Ok, so I didn't proof read this as I usually do, so don't nail me too hard on spelling/grammar mistakes. I'm an English major, I don't have to be good at this stuff. (if you didn't get that logic, don't worry, you're just not smart enough to follow)

Bible verse of the moment: "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 by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." --Galations 2:20

I love you all! Talk soon!

Love,
Lindsey

Sorry for the hiatus...

Hey all (ha, I say "all" like people aside from Allison, Emily, Kristen, and Tom read this thing...).

Sorry I haven't blogged for a while. First came exams, then came catching up on the reading I neglected during exams, then came Phi Alpha Delta and the show, and interspersed in there were a few mild meltdowns. Very time consuming stuff.

Anyway, it seems I have made through my first wave of exams/projects. Not at all gracefully, mind you, but I have made it through nonetheless. I did well (as "well" as one can do in a philosophy based class) on my work for English, my Spanish teacher asked me if my family is Spanish because of my accent and has since been very happy with me and my class contributions (side note: when she asked me, I couldn't help think of Tom and the fact that he gets perks for being Spanish and I am every bit Spanish except for in the technical, biological, ancestral sense of the word...that just sucks...), my Geology class is pretty easy and I like my professor quite a bit (the fact that I got a 95% on my exam may have something to do my current affinity for the class), and I'm still waiting to see if there is yet a shoe to drop in my Modern Latin America class. I'll let you know (I know you'll be losing sleep over the matter...)

As far as my extracurriculars go, it has been overwhelming. Phi Alpha Delta is so involved, it is hard to wrap my mind around. I feel like I am sucking hard core at being a part of that fraternity, and the fact that I have rehearsal every week night from 6 to 10 for the next month will not exactly bolster my PAD involvement. I'm trying not to think about the requirements of the fraternity and just have fun with it. The requirements will take care of themselves. I have my Mock Trial competition for PAD on the 18th and that wigs me out to no end. I decided to venture to be an attorney (when being a witness is infinitely easier) on my first time, and I'm kind of freaking out. Buuuuut, whatever. Similarly, I signed up for a basketball tournament within PAD for Sunday, and I'm afraid I'm going to make a fool of myself. But I'm an actor, so I guess I should be used to that.

Speaking of acting, my read-through was this week and rehearsal begins on Monday. I really hope I get to know the cast and director because I like them a lot; I'm a freshman, a girl in a guy-dominated show, and I have a small part, so that'll make it hard, but who doesn't love a good challenge now and then?

And then there's juggling. In many ways my favorite, mostly because it is so low key but awesome at the same time. I started clubs this week (Tom understands the difficulty in this endeavor). They're tough, but I managed to make six or seven catches with three pins after about 20 minutes. And I've been learning new three ball tricks that make me happy. They folks I juggle with have been teaching me well. And then last week I went out with Mark, Ian, and Sedgwick afterward because rehearsal is going to prevent me from hanging out with them after juggling for like a month and a half. Thankfully juggling starts at 4:30 PM and rehearsal isn't until 6, so I won't miss out on weekly juggling. I am very glad. :)

Hanging out with those guys was fun. We went out for pizza and beer (well, beer for them, Diet Coke for me) and talked for a while. They are pretty awesome. But no one get excited or disturbed or begin to worry that the Apocalypse is fast approaching, because none of them are interested in me in anything resembling a romantic way, particularly because they are all too old for me (late 20s to mid 30s). But they're good friends. And I enjoy friends immensely.

Oh, so in Spanish class the other day we had to read a story that was kind of a fantasy story (I totally missed the fact that the guy turns into a newspaper at the end...got lost in translation...) and when we were done, our teacher said we had fifteen minutes to write our own fantasy. She mentioned that someone in her first class wrote a poem, so I thought I would venture to do the same. I mean, I write poetry, and I've always wanted to write poetry in Spanish, but I've been too timid to try. So I dove in and wrote my first Spanish poem (which had to have a fantastical angle) in 15 minutes. Here it is:

Hoy
Nada es bueno
Mis ojos son rojos
Porque no dormi
Y mi cuerpo esta cansado
El mundo es un poco pesado hoy

Pero tengo salvacion:
Mi papel del teatro
Cuando yo actuo
Este mundo sale decpacio
Y el mundo--las problemas--del papel
Son mios.
Hoy, quiero esas problemas.

Mi papel es de una reina
Mi postura es rigida
Mi voz es fuerte
Y mi hijo me aborrece
Es triste...para mi es mejor

Pero cuando la obra termina
Y sali el teatro
Nada es el mismo
Estoy en Dinamarca permanente
Porque es que yo quise
Pero este mundo es mas oscuro que el primero
Y no lo quiero ahora

Que ironico.


So there you go. Terrible poem in and of itself in my opinion, but oh well. Sorry I am too lazy to insert the accents.

Ok well, I'm sure I'll have more do discuss later. But for now, I think I may nap. Or juggle.

Oh, wait! Kristen has a boy! She doesn't know his name, but that's only because she's starting to lose track of all the men in her life. I'm a little concerned, but it is in the Lord's hands. Anyone who wants to join me in a prayer meeting for Kristen, let me know. We'll ask God to curb her strong tendency for flirtation that college has allowed to go beyond playing hard-to-get with Tom. Tom dear, you were good practice for her. Kristen, be careful with those powerful feminine wiles of yours. Don't be too Siren-like. It's cruel to all those men who can't help but drool over you. Emily and Allison: I think we better speed up the planning process for Kristen's bachelorette party.

On that note, farewell until soon!

Bible verse of the moment: "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." --Philippians 4:4-7

In Him,
Lindsey

PS - oh oh, I've socialized this week! I'll have to write about that next time...

Social defects rear an ugly head...and that head is mine.

So, let me begin by apologizing for my spelling error in the last post. That's the last time I rely on spell check! And hey, it's not my fault that I've had more cause to write the word "condemn" than "condom" over the course of my life. But thank you for catching it, Kristen. The fact that you, of all people, caught it has provided me with a level of entertainment and satisfaction that far outweighs the temporary embarrassment of being the English major who can't spell. :)

Anyway... apparently Emily went out with some people for breakfast today. And Kristen, as per usual, briefly expanded on some event she attended with a real live person (a tendency she has been developing since the start of college) for me earlier. And Tom... well, he's Tom. Duh. But beyond the foursome (I mean that in the most platonic way possible), everywhere I look there are people who know each other that are doing homework or eating or talking or eating and talking when they are supposed to be doing homework, or some other form of human-to-human interaction. The closest I usually get is spending time in a room where other people are interacting. Not to say that I haven't tried, and with some (very limited) success. Basically there are familiar faces that I wave to and converse briefly with if our paths cross, but largely nothing beyond that.

I don't understand it. Me? I'm social by nature! I'm supposed to be the person that is... I don't know, somewhat of a social presence! I have good verbal abilities and an affinity for people. Why has it not translated into my college life? Maybe I was wrong about myself in high school. Maybe I'm more annoying to listen to than anything, and the people I knew in high school were just much more enabling then those in college.

Now thankfully I have some Phi Alpha Delta (pre-law frat) events in the near future that could help remedy this situation. I heard a lot of the returning members say that they joined in part because they didn't know anyone and they were having trouble adjusting, and they subsequently made some amazing friends in PAD. I sincerely hope the same is true for me. Also, I have just barely started to get to know the group of people who juggle on campus every week. I juggled with them again today (I'm improving, by the way! Yay!) and found out more about the people in the group. One woman is a special ed teacher who wants to teach abroad. Another woman is a math teacher at a local high school and her husband is also in the group. I'm not sure what Mark does, but something in psychology. One of the younger guys talked about maybe going to Ohio or something of college next year... maybe he goes to Pima Community College? At any rate, I am actually the only UA student in the group. Does it count as meeting people if they're older than I am and they don't go to the school? I think it should. But if it doesn't, PAD will likely provide actual UA friends, plus rehearsal for Rosencrantz and Guildenstren starts on October 7, and I really hope they are receptive to me: a freshman with a small role. I'm sure going to give it the old college try. (Please forgive the painfully obvious pun...)

I took my examen muy grande de espanol hoy. I think I did bien. Posiblemente an A, pero maybe a B. Seguromente no lower than that, which is fabuloso. Estudie mucho, and it helped a lot, yo pienso.

I really hope I can speak that language con fluencia one day. :)

Oh ok, I just remembered something else I wanted to mention: there's this girl that I met at orientation whose name (I think) is Erica... and considering she just said hi to me and called me by name, I sincerely hope that is her name. Anyway, at orientation she seemed pretty nervous about college, and I was my usual self, cracking jokes and making conversation that seemed to put her at ease (but she could have been having an aneurysm because of my speaking... I've lost nearly all confidence in what I formerly believed to be my one talent: talking). But the other day I saw her hard at work at IQ Fresh (eating place on campus) and I thought to myself, "This is the girl who was worried about adjusting... she seems to be doing fine after all..." and then just now she came down, said hi to me over here, and then began conversing with the two people playing ping pong. (For anyone who is now wondering where I am, I'm in the rec room in the basement of my residence hall. Sorry, no ping pong party going on in my room, which is a cryin' shame, since that is one of the best alliterations ever.) So basically she is doing great in college, along with everyone else on the planet besides me. Well good. I've always liked being unique.

Oh man, I just watched this girl introduce herself to the folks by the ping pong table, and she has this Ms. Sarager happiness about her, and then she started playing ping pong and promptly insulted (in the most sugar-coated, undetectable, Marie Barone kind of way) the girl opposite her, who just looked a little confused. Oh wait, she just did it again... seriously, there is no way I'm worse off than airy-falsetto-voice-too-happy-for-color-tv chick over here. But maybe so...

Don't you love the "real time" entry thing I've got going on here? It's like the good ol' days of radio. :)

I'm kind of putting off ending this entry because I know there are like two things I wanted to write about that have totally escaped my mind... gah, I hate it when that happens. I'm only almost 19. You would think my mental retention would be fairly good still. I blame Stafford. One too many pointless essays eroded my brain capacity.

Ooook, I'll give up on whatever brilliance I have yet to write for now. Something for us all to look forward to.

Oh wait! Ok, two things for next time: the stupidity of college students' self-induced sleep deprivation and "the digestive biscuit" perspective. See? Now you're hooked. And I don't even think those were what I wanted to write about... I'm just full of useless crap. But then I am an English major.

Oh wait, the other girl playing ping pong just said to the strange girl, "I love how you passively insult people..." And in case you couldn't tell, the statement was said facetiously. And those of us bystanders just can't help watching. It's the conversational equivalent of a car wreck that keeps happening.

Verse of the moment: "Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden wit Christ in God." -Colossians 3:1-3

In Him,
Lindsey

Many a musing...and the day is only half over!

College is a very interesting place. I have a feeling UA is pretty tame compared to Yale and other such liberal, well-established institutions, but Kristen would give herself perpetual hiccups from going "Uh!" too frequently if she went here (consequently she would promptly drop dead at Yale). Today I overheard the representative from the UA Women's Resource Center, who was passing out information to students, announce that they also had free rape whistles and condemns available. I guess they wanted to have something for everyone...anyway, immediately after I walked away, shaking my head at the world we live in where rape whistles and condemns are the norm for young people--or people in general, for that matter--I began listening to a DJ who was playing music out in the open for the listening pleasure (I use that phrase quite liberally) of us all, and in between songs, while he was talking, he nonchalantly dropped the F word. This sort of thing is indicative of college, I have noticed. Vulgarities and lazy language are such the norm, even for intelligent or principled people (that sounds elitist, I know), that everyone feels free (possibly compelled?) to cuss. Even people who previously never used bad language naturally, perhaps unknowingly, integrate it into their everyday language once in college. I'm not judging, I just think it's interesting. I wonder if UA is more, we'll say, open than the average university or if cussing and being sexually active (or at least being willing to be sexually active) is really an integral part of college and the lives of college students. Again, I'm not judging. At least I certainly don't intend to. It has just be a jolting shift for me personally.

On a different note, I also find that college is an amazing testimony of how diverse the USA truly is. Today I saw a booth for a Christian club right next to the booth for the Jewish club (I was disappointed, they didn't have Kosher hot dogs like last week...), and then later in line at Chickfila I overheard two kids talking about going to mosque on Friday. I don't know, I just think it's cool.

Oh, and on a different staff (I don't know...what do you call a segway slightly bigger than "a different note"?), Chickfila is trying to sabotage me. Once last week they gave me Coke when I asked for Diet Coke, and believe me, anyone who prefers straight sugar but has forced his or herself to drink aspartame (because for some inexplicable reason he or she would rather die thin and of some aspartame-caused deformity than fat and of type two diabetes) can tell instantly when they have been given sugar, and believe me, sometimes this can be as detrimental as spiking the drink of an AA member. And then twice since that attempt, they have given me waffle fries when I expressly ordered the sandwich only...and both times I threw them away! Crazy? Quite possibly. Oddly, despite these grievances, I continue to get food from Chickfila. It's a very Fountainhead-esque Howard Roark/Dominique kind of love/sabotage relationship. Except for that metaphor to be truly accurate, I would have to gladly endure the sabotage of Chickfila, which would mean eating the fries and drinking the sugary Coke...but what can I say? I've never been a huge Objectivism fan.

Alright, for now I am done. If anyone has actually made it through all this babbling and nonsense and is still reading at this point, bless you. You have incredible fortitude.

I'm off to my Geology class now. Maybe I'll blog from there...if not today, one of these days. There is just something poetic about blogging during lecture. :)

Verse of the moment: "But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions--it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God--not by works, so that no one can boast." Ephesians 2:4-9

Oh, and the verse from the last blog was Hebrews 4:14-16. I forgot to add that. You think God will bust me for improper citation?

Love to all! I'm now late for leaving to class...yay, go me.

In Him,
Lindsey

A Dingo Would Have Ate My Baby

So before anyone comments on the grammatical inaccuracy of the title, let me provide this justification: although technically it should be "A Dingo Would Have Eaten My Baby", the integrity of the movie reference is only truly maintained if I leave the word "ate" in the quote. So it was a personal choice out of respect for the line made famous by Elaine on Seinfeld ("Maybe the dingo ate your baby!" ha...classic moment...) but first spoken (worded slightly differently, I admit) in panic by the main character of the movie "A Cry in the Dark", played by the illustrious and exceptional Meryl Streep. :)

Ok, so enough of that. Time for a weekend recap (and the eventual explanation of the blog title): Emily came down to visit me at UA from ASU. I picked her up at the Greyhound bus station -- a harrowing experience, to be sure. Everything looked sinister in the poorly lit, run-down area of Tucson (that narrows down the possible locals of the station severely, doesn't it? oy...), and I got hit up for money from poor, slightly off-setting people twice just on the way there. I swear, Tucson is like downtown Phoenix without the uptown part.

So anyway, I picked her up and brought her to the school where she surprised Allison with her visit (Allison's scream made it sound like she had just been maimed in some horrible way) and we spent the remainder of the weekend together. Saturday night we went to see Mamma Mia (my seventh time, Emily's tenth...don't judge) and afterward we headed home in the direction we believed would bring us back through the up-standing area of Tucson that surrounds our campus. Naturally we grew concerned when, after a considerable amount of driving, our eyes were not assaulted by chain-link fences and poorly maintained buildings, but rather darkness and long, lonely stretches of highway. When I finally voiced my concern and we decided collectively to turn around, the first sign we saw was once that said "Tucson - 25 miles". Yes, that's right. Somehow we ended up 25 miles outside of Tucson! To many this would seem a blessing, but since none of us had our passports and we all had to pee, continuing on to Mexico seemed a bad option.

That was not the last time we got lost that evening, and two hours after leaving the theater, we arrived back at the university, which is about 15 minutes away from said theater. The movie line that sprang to mind while driving in the incredible darkness was "The dingo ate my baby!" We were in baby-eating dingo territory, to be sure. It was a very humorous experience, to say the least.

Besides that the weekend was enjoyable but adventure-free. Now I have a HUGE Spanish exam on Wednesday to prepare for, I am continuing the joining process with Phi Alpha Delta (the dry, professional, co-ed, pre-law frat on campus) tomorrow, on Wednesday the group of folks I recently started juggling with will be here and I will hang with them, I only have one class tomorrow so much study will ensue (theoretically...), for those who don't know: I was cast in the small part of Gertrude in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead recently and I am very excited about that...and that's all I can think of at the moment.

I sincerely hope my blogs become more interesting in the near future, but let's not despise small beginnings. :)

I love and miss you all! Talk to you soon!

Verse of the moment: "Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are--yet without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

In Him,
Lindsey