That was then, this is now

In 2000, that would be four years ago for all you math majors, I was torn between heavenly happiness and complete, utter fear. Yes. This same day to be exact. Why? Well imagine with me, will you, a diffident teenage girl, with all the teenagish things—yes, I'm talking about math, football games, and teenage boys—filled with uncertainty of her future. Nope, I'm not talking about college, either. Speaking of college, this silly child had waited to the last minute, I mean the last minute, to start typing up her applications. Three to be exact. One to St. Scholastica, the other to Macalester (neither of which I had any intentions of going to), and the final to...Well, you know, Carleton. In fact, I think it must have been around Jan. 13 that this same child walked out to place her application in the mail box, when a huge gust of wind filled with snow, blew that fourth draft (and when I say fourth, I really am referring to typed mistakes—i actually never “revised” my application) of an application right out of her chilled grasp, and blew around her sheets from her unsealed envelope. Frustrated, she ran around on ice, frantically trying to save her application. One that she refused to retype. Shrugging, she picked up the wet application, and shoved it back into the yellow envelope, ink blurred, addressed to Carleton College—Office of Admissions. Ha. And now I work there. AND you know what I discovered???? Half, maybe even more, of these applications sent from all over the world are UNTYPED. Yeah, I was shocked too. Untyped.

No, I wasn't too concerned about college. I had other things on my mind, things that best be kept unsaid till the appropriate time. Let's just say that this girl knew she couldn't have what she wanted:

A dancing Elmo.

Yesterday, I got a dancing Elmo for Christmas. Okay, okay. I'm being stupid. But truly, that was one bizarre moment in my life, one I have fought to avoid ever since. (though I did get a dancing Elmo for Christmas. And new Elmo slippers, and earrings...

And now, I'm looking back, into a time that seems so surreal, like it never happened.

Next year, I have no idea what I'll be doing. I'll be just as surprised as you will be, that's for sure. Maybe I'll be at some graduate school doing public health research. Or maybe I'll be in India doing research on medical practices, health policy, music, language, art. Or perhaps I'll be married (ha ha ha ha, at the rate I'm going? Right!). At any rate, I will not be in front of a classroom teaching biology to under-privileged students. For all of you frightened people who have heard me say I am going to be students' worst nightmare—setting my desk on fire on the first day with gasoline shouting threateningly “this is gonna be h-e-double hockey stick”--you can now take a deep sigh of relief. Not gonna happen any time soon. That's unless a bolt of lightening strikes.

But I am not afraid of what my future holds. Rest assured. I have not given up entirely in despair. Quite the contrary. It takes much more for a Babar to stop rolling. In fact, I have a rush of ACh and epinephrine shooting around in my neurons. Could really be the fright, fight, flee triggering off. But maybe not....
Perhaps Ginny said it best:

If You Want Me To
~Ginny Owens
The pathway is broken
And the signs are unclear
And I don't know the reason why You brought me here
But just because You love me the way that You do
I'm gonna walk through the valley
If You want me to

Chorus:
Cause I'm not who I was
When I took my first step
And I'm clinging to the promise You're not through with me yet
so if all of these trials bring me closer to you
Then I will go through the fire
If You want me to

It may not be the way I would have chosen
When you lead me through a world that's not my home
But You never said it would be easy
You only said I'd never go alone

So when the whole world turns against me
And I'm all by myself
And I can't hear You answer my cries for help
I'll remember the suffering Your love put You through
And I will go through the valley
If You want me to

When I cross over Jordan, I'm gonna scream, I'm gonna shout.

The Space Between Now and Then

Nugatory: insignificant.
Burgeon: to grow rapidly
Churlishness: behavior of a peasant

Those are the words of today.
What have I done over break you ask? Well, I got my ears pierced! Yes, for the first time in my life. My mom wouldn't let me when I was younger, and when I became of age, I lost interest. BUT, last wednesday I went to the mall. I flinched. Yes. A bit scared. Sometimes i forget they are there, and my ear feels itchy, so i scratch, then realize that there are gold things posted throught them. Not such a good idea to scratch.
And I have seen the Incredibles with my bro and Jenni, and Oceans 12 with Toni. Both of which I thoroughly enjoyed.

I have done the shopping thing. Though, this Christmas I am focusing on making gifts. And I'm not sending out cards. Stamps can get expensive, seriously. I think I spent like $20 just on stamps last year. BUT you know I'm sending you my love! Lil and BIg Fricke, Mingmer, Smars, Naki, Rashi, Eni, The Terrible Trio, Christeeno, Eslie....
LESLIE it was soooo good to talk to you!

Oh, and oh, do you remember my turtle back pack? you know, the one people used to tease me about being so big? well, it was broken, right, I broke it in costa rica back packing through a jungle--terrible timing really!--and since it has a life time warranty, i sent it all the way to WA to get it fixed. and you know what they did to my beloved back pack??!??!!?!? they threw it away, and sent me this other newer one called Odyssey 38, instead of my wonderful blue Airzuit. AND they had the audacity to tell me that they have discontinued my Airzuit!!! and that was that. terribly, insensitive Jansport people! i mean, there were memories with Airzuit. THey could have had the decency to ask me what kind I 'd like in return. Sigh. Did i ever tell you I didn't like change? well, good, i'm glad I didn't cuz I'd be lying. I do like change. ANd so for the sake of change, i accept you Odyssey 38. BUt you are navy, and I like blue. Or even red. But not particularly navy. Actually, this bp is a bit cooler, just not the right color. Wow. Reading this post reveals my true shallowness.

Soooo.....I have been waiting to hear back from Teach 4 America. I thought I would hear by email last week. Then I realized they would be sending it by a snail. First to Carleton. And then fowarding it to here. I am writing this before I check the mail today. This really should be the day. And if not, I'm calling them! That's right! I can't wait one whole week and not get any news.

But in any case, its all in God's hands. I mean, if I am suppose to teach, and that's where He wants me next year, so be it. If not, He'll open the doors to Yale. I will admit, I've struggled with trusting God with my future. Self-doubt, bitterness, and perhaps forgetfullness of God's goodness. But Jeremiah reminds me that God says: "For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope." So there it is. It's pure stupidity to worry.

Ode to Willow River

This place is built upon stones of tears. Its music is scorned, dismissed, and ignored.

Haughty eyes and proud hearts full of contempt turn away from its stormy weather. But I can not let myself forget a past forged in fire, and tamed in ice. My feet will take me away, and time will take its flight, but I will not lose its rhythm, its color, its life.

I've got a box full of memories called freedom. It's full of images that run in the wind down a hill, through the woods, and across the fields. Stumbling into bear cubs, pots of golden buttercups, electrical fences. It's got smells like apple pie, wild-untamed roses, smoky campfires. 10-gallon buckets of water from a well encased in a wooden shed quench the thirst of a flock of sheep, who gleefully leap from time to time over the suggested borders dictated by a wire fence. There's a field of corn on my left, a monkey tree across the road from where we wait for the yellow elephant to whisk us away to never never land, and a dog named Fledge guarding the porch with adoration and loyalty. And if you do not know winter, you can not know spring. Roses dig their way up through the frozen ground with their thorns. Its a packaged deal. Starry nights with the fire flies and crickets. Moonlit meanders through the apple orchard, and basketball duels with a beaten up hoop.

But it is not immune to pain. Stained in blood, colored in fear, locked in sorrow. I've got voices accusing me of dirt on my face, the color of my skin. Poverty, death, and racism. Loneliness and depression haunts this place. The people give gifts to each other in the winter, sing songs together, and work in the same building. Not knowing who they are, not knowing who they could be. Not knowing, and not caring. They are so far from each other, desperately trying to break the silence, but not knowing the words. Some have done it with a barrel pointed in the wrong direction. Mainly, their own.

Your liberalism could not stand its ground here.

And yet this Weeping Willow was stolen from its homeland, transplanted across the oceans. And I ask, does it remember its home? In ancient Babylonia? No, it has never even seen it. But it survived. It spread its roots in a cold and barren land, ignoring the sound of axes. Its bark is knarly and mis-formed. It stretches out to the sun, yearning for its home. When the wind whispers of it, it weeps. This place I once called home freezes its sorrow in its name. Frozen hard as stones.

But Spring will come and its river will un-thaw.

The Pressed Gentian

The time of gifts has come again,

And, on my northern window-pane,

Outlined against the day's brief light,

A Christmas token hangs in sight.



The wayside travellers, as they pass,

Mark the gray disk of clouded glass;

And the dull blankness seems, perchance,

Folly to their wise ignorance.



They cannot from their outlook see

The perfect grace it hath for me;

For there the flower, whose fringes through

The frosty breath of autumn blew,

Turns from without its face of bloom

To the warm tropic of my room,

As fair as when beside its brook

The hue of bending skies it took.



So from the trodden ways of earth,

Seem some sweet souls who veil their worth,

And offer to the careless glance

The clouding gray of circumstance.

They blossom best where hearth-fires burn,

To loving eyes alone they turn

The flowers of inward grace, that hide

Their beauty from the world outside.



But deeper meanings come to me,

My half-immortal flower, from thee!

Man judges from a partial view,

None ever yet his brother knew;

The Eternal Eye that sees the whole

May better read the darkened soul,

And find, to outward sense denied,

The flower upon its inmost side

1872.



John Greenleaf Whittier

CHRISTMAS is COMING!!!!!
bobviewing

brainy push ups

Guess what I'm doing? I'm researching for comps!!! He he....and guess who changed her topic, and her advisor within the last few days...heh. Babar procrastination baby. Dude, so I go to my mom, and am like, "hey, I need to go to carleton to do comps...." Then Imran chimes in, "what!?!?! are you outta yo' mind? there's no reason for you to do comps already!! you should wait to you get back on campus...no hurry." this spoken from a guy who did his comps draft two weeks before it was due, while flying all over the country for grad school interviews.

so wanna know what i changed from, and to? from visual illusions to the black death. yep. from neuro to immunology/microbio. it wasn't a difficult decision, really. I had been doing all my research for neuro stuff, and then realized half way through that i din't really care about my topic. my socks were just not going up and down, like they should. but, plagues!!! oh yeah!

i hopped into sugar plum after singin at a bday party, and headed on down to start afresh. and so i go to the libe, and, eventually, i realize that i don't know how to do research. i mean, i'm a senior, and i haven't really figure the whole biz out yet. so i ask the reference guy, Charlie--this man is the man--all about researching. He showed me how to do endnote again (okay, okay, so i haven't written a paper with more than 20 references before, give me a break!) while laughing hysterical at my ignorance. but with a little coaching we figured it out together, and i've even done like 20 interlibrary loans, and requested books from Stolaf!! i've only been here a day too.

Right now i'm waiting for the big guys at northfield auto shop to call me about sugar plum. i've been waiting all day. well well. *sigh*

AND tomorrow is the day! yes, i will hear back from teach for america!!!! i'm scared out of my mind! i suppose it serves me right for puttin all 'my eggs in one basket'...i'm currently scrambling to make back up plans for grad school...pub health stuff. i really havent' even started the applications yet. we'll see how foolish i am tomorrow! in fact i just registered for GRE. i'm quite pathetic at this whole "planning out my life" thing. i guess it comes with the package. you know, the youngest is always the one mooching. i figure, it doesn't really matter what i do, imran and azra already done it. i'm gonna be the sib that lives off her sibs success.....i feel like that should be plural. this is an english nightmare. i've forgotten how to use the English lingo.
well, i'm gonna read about my pal Yersinia pestis. toodles.

Last night of fall 2004, aren't we thoughtful?
bobviewing

Dancin the night away!
bobviewing

Praise Out: Fall term Musta Seed Chapel Service--Bible Boy
bobviewing

Davis 314: Light House Rocks! Yeah veggie tale Ts!
bobviewing

Youthful bliss

When I was little, I didn't have a blog. In fact, if you had asked me what a blog was, I would have told you it was a type of insect with wings or a furry worm. But now I'm an adult. I have a driver's license. And a passport stamped by Costa Rican authorities. I can integrate sin x, and fire off action potentials with vesicular speed. I can even contemplate the meaning of life without falling out of a chair. So there. Wait, where was I going with this? Ah, yes. I'm an adult. When do I get my jaguar?