For the time I am at home, on top of raising money and all that necessary jazz, I want to:
bake bread
learn to play the Pride and Prejudice music on the piano, at least some of it
run/exercise daily
poems/art
farsi
read
learn to play pool
and pray like my life depends on it, cause well, it does.
6/14/14
back
Well, I'm back.
I guess I should explain, for the new readers who don't yet know what being back means. I will, but for now, I'm back home, whatever home means. I'm back in the place where I grew up, but I'm seeing it with fresh eyes and it doesn't feel much like home anymore, lovely and refreshing as it is. And I like that. I don't want home to be a set place so much anymore.
Some things.
I can see the stars. There aren't so many street lights. The street lights there are, aren't obnoxiously orange. I can sleep with the window blinds open and not be blinded by the parking lot lights.
The house, when I walked in, smelled like history. It smelled like a house that has been around for one hundred years (because it has been). It smelled good.
Outside smells sweet, and there are lots of birds, and now there are fireflies, and someone across the street is having a fire, and the highway sounds are far off in the distance, and I can hear a raccoon having a tiff, or maybe it is a cat, I don't know.
When I wake up tomorrow I'm going to run, and I'm excited about it.
I guess I should explain, for the new readers who don't yet know what being back means. I will, but for now, I'm back home, whatever home means. I'm back in the place where I grew up, but I'm seeing it with fresh eyes and it doesn't feel much like home anymore, lovely and refreshing as it is. And I like that. I don't want home to be a set place so much anymore.
Some things.
I can see the stars. There aren't so many street lights. The street lights there are, aren't obnoxiously orange. I can sleep with the window blinds open and not be blinded by the parking lot lights.
The house, when I walked in, smelled like history. It smelled like a house that has been around for one hundred years (because it has been). It smelled good.
Outside smells sweet, and there are lots of birds, and now there are fireflies, and someone across the street is having a fire, and the highway sounds are far off in the distance, and I can hear a raccoon having a tiff, or maybe it is a cat, I don't know.
When I wake up tomorrow I'm going to run, and I'm excited about it.
6/10/14
I love to cook. It's an act of worship.
I want to encourage.
I like a cool breeze before a storm whisking through the windows in summer.
I like listening to Bethel's spontaneous worship.
I'm cooking beef, yellow rice, and cauliflower. I'm leaving in four days and I'm trying to eat up what I have left. It's turning out to be a pretty nice meal. Wish I could share it.
The timer is ticking in rhythm with my music.
I despise the ice cream truck, I always have.
I want to encourage.
I like a cool breeze before a storm whisking through the windows in summer.
I like listening to Bethel's spontaneous worship.
I'm cooking beef, yellow rice, and cauliflower. I'm leaving in four days and I'm trying to eat up what I have left. It's turning out to be a pretty nice meal. Wish I could share it.
The timer is ticking in rhythm with my music.
I despise the ice cream truck, I always have.
6/8/14
Life
This weekend, Geebs and I went to visit our friend Amber in North East Ohio.
My last day at Tim Horton's was Thursday. We went on our way out of town to buy a bag of coffee for Amber so I bought an iced cappuccino. My friends there made it a size bigger and added special topping. :)
My last day at Tim Horton's was Thursday. We went on our way out of town to buy a bag of coffee for Amber so I bought an iced cappuccino. My friends there made it a size bigger and added special topping. :)
6/6/14
about the stars.
About the stars in Mexico. Twice, at night, we drove hours. All the joynoise around me didn't matter. Just stars. Many nights we danced. Parties. The night the cruelty of how it isn't supposed to be was revealed to me. Geckos.
We stared at the sky over that town, and You said to look-
I stared out the window, we hurtled through dark Ohio, made a resolution.
Laughing in the back of that taxi late at night, too dark to see anything but a thin line where the hills met the sky.
My brother's birthday, the coldest night I didn't feel, for the stars.
And when we danced, loud with the beats and quiet with our faces, in that small room in July. And leaving, late, the skylights shining bright.
About the sunset. Like afternoon goldsunshine on India's fields, but I'm driving to Kroger.
Certain days, the way the light shines in, reminds me.
Of India, Russia, the ocean.
About the beetles that crawl these yellow walls late at night.
How do they know when to come out?
Bugs in the beds and in the cracks in the floors.
About those songs.
it trembles at Your voice.
which the morning stars began.
in Your presence.
and my heart will sing.
All those bugs, the way the light shines in. And then the stars, the songs, Your light.
6/4/14
Rain
I like rain.
It creates community between us.
We are the same; souls trying to escape the water. (or not escape, if you are me.)
When I smile at someone on the street, the smile is understood. "I don't have an umbrella either" I say with my eyes.
A man shares his umbrella with me, giving me dryness and also pushing himself out a bit so we are both half dry.
It creates community between us.
We are the same; souls trying to escape the water. (or not escape, if you are me.)
When I smile at someone on the street, the smile is understood. "I don't have an umbrella either" I say with my eyes.
A man shares his umbrella with me, giving me dryness and also pushing himself out a bit so we are both half dry.
6/1/14
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