Phlegm.

feeling pensive
may be quite expensive,
or tasking even, for
one's heart.

for the art of waiting,
is not merely
passive serenity,
but an active
participation
in patience.

and patience, in itself,
is founded on
dutifully seeking
wisdom and
peace...

striving to find the light,
the darkest of places.

Things I love.

I feel the need to write something arbitrary. And usually when I'm feeling arbitrary, I make lists.

[disclaimer: and this is a list in addition to what I love more than anything, like God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit]

#1: Baby dragons- no, I'm not talking about komodo dragons. I'm talking about real dragons. The kind that flies, breathes fire and kidnaps damsels. I think they are magnificent.
#2: The color red- it's vivacious, vivid, and voluptuous.
#3: The smell of hair-dye- I think that's pretty self-explanatory. don't judge.
#4: Intense fight scenes in movies- sword-fights, ninjas and martial artists kicking the bad guys BEEhinds in the coolest way possible. Something in me wishes that I could fight, not that I would actually pick fights, but just so I know that I can.
#5: Gerbera daisies- red, yellow, black and white...they are precious in my sight!
#6: Ridiculously cheesy jokes- i'm a big nerd. I'm sure those of who you know me have already gathered that.
#7: The Mighty Ducks trilogy- oh, that Charlie Conway (aka Joshua Jackson)...what a stud. Then he moved on from playing hockey to playing Joey, Katie Holmes character, on Dawson's Creek. Too bad.
#8: Little heads upon my shoulders- I love it when little kids cuddle just because they want to. Like when they just climb on your lap when they want to show you something that they've just drawn, or a book that they want you to read to them.
#9: Suspenseful thrillers- I may turn my eyes away, or bury my head on a neighbor's shoulders, but, in a weird way, I enjoy or rather, emotionally-appreciate, not knowing what lurks behind the shadowy corners of a dark room. (Except I didn't enjoy "No Country for Old Men." I hate that movie. When I watched it, I felt like my soul was being eaten alive).
#10: Inspiration point- it's a great place to get away and stare at the vastness of the ocean and find myself, once again, overwhelmed that the God who made the seemingly immeasurable ocean, is far greater than ALL of His creation.

me? a grown-up?

Today, I babysat six of my pastor's seven children. When I walked in the front door, it was sort of like being swarmed by an army of locusts. That's probably a prodigious exaggeration, but maybe not. They all rushed to me, pulling me in different directions, talking all at once...it was a bit overwhelming. But they are precious, indeed. And it's nice to be missed. Rebekah, who is 5, took ownership of my right hand for the next 20 minutes and sat on my lap everytime I sat down.

While her siblings were napping/playing Jenga, Sarah, the oldest, wanted to make her world-renown (at least in the Micu household) "chocolate upon chocolate cookies"(I don't think that's the official name of her cookies, but after tasting them, I decided that I would call them that).

Sarah put the cookies in the oven for about 5 minutes. When the timer went off, I inspected her batch. The cookies were still a little mushy, so I suggested that she put them in for about 6-7 more minutes. When they came out, the cookies were very much done. Rebekah's eyes brightened, the hair in her eyes flew out of her face as she turned quickly to me and asked, "How did you know that they needed to be in the oven longer? How did you know!" Before I could answer, Sarah interjected, in a very matter-of-fact tone: "It's 'cause Ms. Linell is a grown up."

I stood there, finger in the air, with my mouth slightly ajar. That wasn't the answer I would've picked. I think what I was actually going to say was, "It's because I'm smart and I go to college" (That answer probably would not have sufficed for an inquisitive five-year old, anyway). But what Sarah said also struck me in a different sense, in a way that feels like lightning struck my brain. I AM a grown-up!

BUT what does that even mean? I certainly don't feel like one. But I, apparently, am one.

weird.

the Waiting

it's like...
trying to spread crunchy peanut butter on a slice of un-toasted Wonderbread,
or
buying a pair of new flats that you're hoping will match your new blue dress,
or
the moments between sleep and consciousness spent in anticipation of the alarm clock going off,
...or...
sitting by the phone for no apparent reason.

[edit: i love karaoke. Especially after Bible Study on Tuesday nights. And most especially when Dave Ashjian is singing "Oops, I did it again."]

(die-hard fans)

I am an anti-hermit.

I think I just made that word up. You'll probably want to use it after I explain what it means. Then I'll probably have to charge you a nickel for every time you say it.

Anti-hermitism is a revolt against all things that would force someone (such as myself) to become a hermit, or become secluded from the outside world. Therefore, I am a zealous supporter of anti-hermitism. I am an anti-hermit.

The reason behind the coinage of this term is in regards to the comment a friend of mine made earlier today. We were talking about how I am planning to move out of the dorms and into an actual apartment and, come summer time, I need to have a stable job in order to pay for said apartment. In response to this he said something along the lines of, "In addition to working, you're also going to be a nursing major, meaning you'll be virtually non-existent next year." I was taken by surprise, but recovered quickly enough to say, "Nuh-uh. I refuse to be a hermit."(I am so articulate sometimes, it's scary).

And that has always been the case for me (refusing to be a hermit, I mean, and not being articulate. Don't know where that came from). I don't think I blatantly disregard all my responsibilities, but some things just pale in comparison to spending time with people. And I love people. So much so that sometimes I do have to lock myself in a room (or a library) in order to get homework done.

So what will next year look like for me? Granted that I will be really busy, but I know myself enough to say that I will make time for people. What's a perfect GPA in nursing school worth, if I become disconnected to close friends? And will a well-endowed bank account matter, if I completely disregard spending time with people?

I know it's all about finding the right balance. Swaying too far into any of the two possible extremes would be detrimental to my emotional, physical and spiritual well-being. Actually, I see myself sitting right on the line between: blatant disregard for responsibilities and doing as much work necessary while spending time with important people in my life . I will definitely have to be careful and aware, in order to guard against swinging too far into the point of no return.

Why couldn't I just major in people-studies? No, I don't mean anthropology. That is entirely different from what I'm alluding too. In "people-studies," I would just hang out with friends and do all the things that friends do in order to ace my major.

yeah, but life doesn't work that way.

(p.s. maybe I sort of lied. I do become a hermit sometimes and can voluntarily stay away from people for hours at a time. So, maybe I'm not as zealous about anti-hermitism as I professed I was. Sorry! I was caught up in the moment.)

The answer to boredom is a lobotomy.

"I need somewhere to fall apart"
"here, would you like to do so...in my arms?"
[insert flashing debonair smile and Peter Cetera's "Glory of Love." ]

yes, my head came up with that all on it's own. sometimes I wonder if my brain actually belongs to me. it's quite possible that I had a brain transplant earlier on in life. one would assume that I'd remember something as significant as a lobotomy except that...I would have a new brain, therefore, deeming all previous memories obsolete.

I think I say those things, mostly, to amuse myself. I'm sure you're amused, too. But please don't judge me... I'm just bored.

I've been listening to Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova sing and lament about the pains of unrequited love. I love the songs that they sing. They're simplistic and depressing, but beautiful, nonetheless. The songs are also inspiring; so much so that I have written my own lament about my exasperated (past) experiences with romance. I doubt that anyone will actually hear this song, though. It's not something I see myself playing for anyone; it's kind of embarrassing. And no, the lines that I began this journal entry with are not part of my song. (Though that would be ridiculously hysterical).

on a less related note: today, my brain forgot that it was March.

Oh, Sanctification.

God has been doing amazing things in my life in the past 2 weeks. Things that I never would've dreamed of. It's like God has marked these past 14 days of my life as my Ebeneezer; a moment in time that I can clearly remember how God has proven Himself faithful.

One would think that God is working so powerfully in my life because I have been doing everything on the Christian "to-do" list, which include--but is not limited to--the following: being in the Word everyday, having my life in perfect order, doing devotions on a timely basis, going to church every Sunday...and the "list" goes on...

Ironically, that is not the case. My life is sort of a disaster right now. I am painfully behind in school work, I have been having the hardest time getting up in the morning, I have lost a lot of self-control (nor am I making a valiant effort to control or hedge my self indulgence), I have become less punctual, I missed church last Sunday because I stayed up till 3 in the morning babysitting for my voice teacher... and the list goes on. Yes, it seems that I have acquired an acute sense of irresponsibility. And let's not get on the topic of how I have somewhat, emotionally and mentally, abandoned my role as an RA...I might start crying.

Please do not mistake my tone as one of callous indifference, because I do cringe upon the realization that I have digressed greatly in my responsibilities. In a lot of ways, I am in sin. I am being lazy and unmotivated. I need a lot of prayer and I need to change. Which is exactly the point that I'm trying to make: God is blessing me, even when my life is in shambles so that all I can do is be completely flattened by humility, paralyzed by my inability to boast about anything, but God's glory. God is blessing me the most when I least deserve it!

By saying this I am in no way endorsing living an intentionally, unmotivated life. Christians should always strive hard to live righteously and faithfully for the LORD. Something that I am currently convicting myself of right now, as we speak (or rather the Holy Spirit is convicting me...) However, when things are in life are wonderful and amazing, there is the temptation to pat ourselves on the back, look smugly at God and say, "yes, of course I was offered that job, it's because I've been praying for it everyday and reading the book of James and memorized all of proverbs. God you have me that job because I am the picture of the Proverbs 31 woman!" How foolish we humans can be to think that God gives us good things because we deserve it. God blesses us because He is a good God, who loves us unconditionally.

With all the things that God has blessed me with over the course of these 14 days, all I can say is, "Woe is me, for I deserve none of these good things. All these good things are from you Lord. I do not deserve them and I am a crumpled, tangled mess on the ground because of this matchless grace You have shown me. "

At long last.

I am going to be a nurse. I have finally, been accepted into a nursing program. This is so wonderful! (The fact that a small aspect of my life has reached this level of certainty is a little overwhelming.)

Coming home with such good news has put my parents in the best mood I've seen them in since...the day my brother, Lenard, got the Student of the Year award in 6th grade. That's probably an over-exaggeration. However, I do sort of feel like I'm their favorite child right now. Maybe it's a combination of their dreams coming true and my coming home after being away for about three months, but I am being showered with love and presents. I'm not complaining. But it is rather awkward at times. I never know what to do when special attention is aimed right at me.

ugh. I feel a tangent coming on... oh my, here it goes:

I wish I were more articulate and had more clever words to say, at this point. But I guess I don't need to be that creative all the time. Though it would be nice. I'd probably have more friends if I were able to write journal entries that had more profound things to say. I actually used to be better at writing sentences. Now, I'm annoyingly straightforward and choppy. I'd prefer to have more complex sentence structures filled with illusory vocabulary and astute similes and metaphors.

But...no such luck.

At least I'm going to be a nurse someday. I suppose that's better than being a good writer. Right?