After doing some research, I found out that the weather in Three Lakes, Wisconsin is going to be amazing, with a record low of 46 and a record high of 71--in the SUMMER. wee! Things are really looking up. Well, sort of. Now that it's not going to be the "typical" summer, I have to re-plan what I'm going to pack. Oy.
On another note, my mother--whom I love dearly--decided to become furious at me for not making breakfast this morning. This is confusing to me because I have not made breakfast...at all...this week. I usually forage for food when I get up in the morning. I've been eating Fiber one bars or toasted hawaiian rolls, with maybe some scrambled egg--not the typical morning breakfast food. But eh, whatever.
See, my mom works in the evenings and when she gets off in the morning, she and my dad usually go get breakfast together. And mind you, they don't ever bring breakfast back for me or my brothers. But I don't take it personally. And I've gotten used to this routine.
My mother did not work last night and when I greeted her this morning, she asked me why I didn't make breakfast this morning, like a normal, caring daughter would have. She also a lot of other things, that I feel was her hunger talking.
I'm seriously confused. Please slap me if I ever do this to my children.
Sigh. T-minus three days and I'm outta here.
30.5.09
29.5.09
I hate this weather.
Fresno, California. Lovely in the Autumn, Spring and Winter--absolutely horrid in the Summer. It has this Jekyll-Hyde complex that is not redeemable in any sort of way. This week that I've been home, the heat has gotten progressively worse: it's muggy, it's 100 degrees outside and it cools down to about 85 at night. If I sound grumpy and miserable, its cause I am. I also have a raging headache. It started last night--about the same time as the thunder and lightning storm that made quite a ruckus outside my window.
Sigh. I have not been the most pleasant person around my home. I am constantly irked at something. At first, I could not figure out why I was so annoyed. Granted, I can't blame all my fun-suckiness on the weather-- my heart is inherently sinful and ugly. I guess, the heat has helped in the burning down of whatever helped keep my mood and anger in check. Oh how I need grace. So much grace.
Furthermore, my mood has been worsened by the rules and regulations of baggage checking Sure, it makes sense--the airlines want to save money on fuel by limiting how much a passenger can bring. Their money saving tactics, however, challenge my inability to pack lightly and the fact that I'm trying to save money, too. And yes, I'm whining. But I am thoroughly frustrated. I have to pay $15 to check just one bag and an additional $25 if I need to check another one. That's a total of $40. Not only that, but I can't bring luggage that is bigger than 62 linear inches (meaning the length, width and height must add up to less than or equal to 62 inches) and it cannot weigh more than 40 lbs. Ok, so if we do the math... 2 and 1/2 months divided into 62 linear inches, divided into 40 lbs = biggest headache of my life.
I suppose the easiest solution would be to give up and not go. At the same time, I cannot live my summer in this kind of weather. It is seriously cramping with my style. I suppose I could just suck it up, but really that takes a whole lot of energy. And without a job here in Fresno, I would go crazy. Not to mention that it has become all the more clearer how different my parents and I really are. Tension. Tension headache. Oy.
On a side note: T-minus 4 days till I leave for Three Lakes, Wisconsin! I am kind of excited, kind of nervous and kind of just ready to go, go, go! I feel like I'm just floating in limbo right now, sort of just waiting to arrive to where I'm supposed to be. Hopefully, the rest of my packing will go smoothly, if anything, I can just wear the same three outfits for the whole summer. It's camp. Who cares about being stylish. I am seriously about to give up on that and wear V-necks and shorts everyday.
Another side note (this has nothing to do with all the whining above): Yesterday, I told God that if it were His will to use my life in order to bring Him more glory, that He should. I prayed that if it were better for me to die, if that would bring more people to Jesus, then that's what I would want. I realize that I am "expendible,"--and many of who will probably disagree-- and if God is going to use me, then He should use all of me, as fuel for His kingdom. I know that's really weird. I'm weirded out. And honestly, I'm not saying this to make much of myself, cause that is stupid and pointless. What is more stupid and pointless than saying something you don't mean? No, I'm saying this to challenge you, individual, whoever you may be: would you be willing to DIE for the sake of the Cross? Are you willing to say that your life is "expendible" so that all the glory would go to God? Are you willing to give up your hopes of getting married and raising a family, finding that right job, or living a comfortable, successful life, for the sake of Jesus?
It's scary, isn't it?
Sigh. I have not been the most pleasant person around my home. I am constantly irked at something. At first, I could not figure out why I was so annoyed. Granted, I can't blame all my fun-suckiness on the weather-- my heart is inherently sinful and ugly. I guess, the heat has helped in the burning down of whatever helped keep my mood and anger in check. Oh how I need grace. So much grace.
Furthermore, my mood has been worsened by the rules and regulations of baggage checking Sure, it makes sense--the airlines want to save money on fuel by limiting how much a passenger can bring. Their money saving tactics, however, challenge my inability to pack lightly and the fact that I'm trying to save money, too. And yes, I'm whining. But I am thoroughly frustrated. I have to pay $15 to check just one bag and an additional $25 if I need to check another one. That's a total of $40. Not only that, but I can't bring luggage that is bigger than 62 linear inches (meaning the length, width and height must add up to less than or equal to 62 inches) and it cannot weigh more than 40 lbs. Ok, so if we do the math... 2 and 1/2 months divided into 62 linear inches, divided into 40 lbs = biggest headache of my life.
I suppose the easiest solution would be to give up and not go. At the same time, I cannot live my summer in this kind of weather. It is seriously cramping with my style. I suppose I could just suck it up, but really that takes a whole lot of energy. And without a job here in Fresno, I would go crazy. Not to mention that it has become all the more clearer how different my parents and I really are. Tension. Tension headache. Oy.
On a side note: T-minus 4 days till I leave for Three Lakes, Wisconsin! I am kind of excited, kind of nervous and kind of just ready to go, go, go! I feel like I'm just floating in limbo right now, sort of just waiting to arrive to where I'm supposed to be. Hopefully, the rest of my packing will go smoothly, if anything, I can just wear the same three outfits for the whole summer. It's camp. Who cares about being stylish. I am seriously about to give up on that and wear V-necks and shorts everyday.
Another side note (this has nothing to do with all the whining above): Yesterday, I told God that if it were His will to use my life in order to bring Him more glory, that He should. I prayed that if it were better for me to die, if that would bring more people to Jesus, then that's what I would want. I realize that I am "expendible,"--and many of who will probably disagree-- and if God is going to use me, then He should use all of me, as fuel for His kingdom. I know that's really weird. I'm weirded out. And honestly, I'm not saying this to make much of myself, cause that is stupid and pointless. What is more stupid and pointless than saying something you don't mean? No, I'm saying this to challenge you, individual, whoever you may be: would you be willing to DIE for the sake of the Cross? Are you willing to say that your life is "expendible" so that all the glory would go to God? Are you willing to give up your hopes of getting married and raising a family, finding that right job, or living a comfortable, successful life, for the sake of Jesus?
It's scary, isn't it?
14.5.09
the Procrastinator
I love the Biola library. Well, right now, I love it. I avoided this place for most of the year. But...now, I live here. I go back to my apartment for showering and sleeping purposes. If the Biola library had showers, I probably would never leave. But then again, do I really ever have to leave? I mean, as far as sleeping goes, they have those new comfy leather couches on the upper level by the balcony and dilapidated sleeping bags (that have the shape and consistency of a raisin) scattered everywhere. And maybe I wouldn't need to shower, since the library now comes equipped with sanitizer stations placed by bookshelves and doorways--they're small little globes that dispense a palm full of sanitizer when you place your hand underneath them. It's like magic.
I'm sitting in a little cubby by a window. Windows are amazing catalysts for non-productivity--especially when it's such a beautiful day outside. The outside world holds endless possibilties for fun and frivolity. Linell wants to frolick, but can't. It's so sad.
But the cubby does kind of help. They kind of work like blinders for ADD people like yours truly. Except, I feel like placing cubbies by windows is kind of like taking a laxative right after taking kaopectate. I just feel conflicted inside.
I definitely have my work cut out for me in these final days of the semester: I've got quite a bit of reading to do for Apologetics, not to mention my final paper. Oh yes, and studying for the final--which is cumulative. And let's not forget all the little assignments that I need to turn in for nursing that I waited till now to actually work on. And yes, the final for Nursing Theory 202 is also cumulative.
With each semester that begins, I always vow to never do what I did the semester before--which is, procrastinate, or allow work to pile up so that I'm spending the last week of the semester in the library or Starbucks or wherever else that is conducive to studying. Needless to say, nothing has really changed. Hah. Or maybe, I do like it this way.
Ok, now I will attempt to be productive again.
I'm sitting in a little cubby by a window. Windows are amazing catalysts for non-productivity--especially when it's such a beautiful day outside. The outside world holds endless possibilties for fun and frivolity. Linell wants to frolick, but can't. It's so sad.
But the cubby does kind of help. They kind of work like blinders for ADD people like yours truly. Except, I feel like placing cubbies by windows is kind of like taking a laxative right after taking kaopectate. I just feel conflicted inside.
I definitely have my work cut out for me in these final days of the semester: I've got quite a bit of reading to do for Apologetics, not to mention my final paper. Oh yes, and studying for the final--which is cumulative. And let's not forget all the little assignments that I need to turn in for nursing that I waited till now to actually work on. And yes, the final for Nursing Theory 202 is also cumulative.
With each semester that begins, I always vow to never do what I did the semester before--which is, procrastinate, or allow work to pile up so that I'm spending the last week of the semester in the library or Starbucks or wherever else that is conducive to studying. Needless to say, nothing has really changed. Hah. Or maybe, I do like it this way.
Ok, now I will attempt to be productive again.
4.5.09
In "da" club, but not of it...
Writing a blogpost about going to a club on Saturday night probably takes away from the "coolness" factor of the experience and exposing me for the "square" I really am--oh well.
If you knew me two years ago, or even a year ago and had mentioned the idea of going to a club on any night of the week, you would've been met by a response that would entail me giving you a lecture on why that's sinful.
Needless to say, I've mellowed out quite a bit.
Anyway, I went to Santa Barbara (woot) this past weekend and my friends and I decided to go to a club on Saturday night. It wasn't just on a whim-- it was part of a series of events known as the "Daniel Craig birthday celebration." And no, it wasn't like a James Bond convention/conference. No, nothing quite so creepy or fanatical. I'm talking about another Dan Craig, who happens to be turning 26 on Wednesday.
Before we went to the club, my friends and I stopped by a bar where they featured swing dancing music on Thurs-Saturday nights. Elise, my beloved ex-roommate, is the best swing dancer I know. I was excited to watch her dance because it really is THAT amazing. But what was even more exciting was that I actually got to use my I.D to gain access to something under-aged people couldn't. I know, I'm easily amused. I wonder what was going through the bouncer's head when I eagerly handed him my I.D, with a huge goofy smile plastered on my face. Come to think of it, I may have also told the guy who checked my I.D at Tonic about how excited I was to be there.
What I observed in the club and at the bar was pretty similar. For some reason, I had always pictured clubs and bars (and I'm sure that this assumption is not completely off-based) to be the breeding ground of all things blatantly sinful. Granted, it wasn't the picture of heaven either. When it comes down to it, it was a place for people to meet people. I mean, God did make us to live in community with one another and Christian or not, people will seek people out. It was very interesting to watch the friendliness and camaraderie at these places that will rival any Christian churches out there. People are generally very friendly, in a non-creepy way. They strike up conversations with strangers and offer to buy people drinks. A guy that was with us, offered to buy us a couple round of drinks--I politely declined, of course, due to my disdain for beer because it smells and tastes like crap--but still, I thought, how often do Christian guys offer to buy a "round" of sodas when we're at In-and-Out?
I was surprised that none of those things that I thought would happen to me, happened when I went to these places. I mean, fire and brimstone didn't start falling from the sky, nor was I struck by lightning--which I thought might happen as soon as I set foot inside a bar. And, I actually had fun. Sober-because-Christ-lives-in-me-and-I-want-to-be-a-witness-for-him, kind of fun. I enjoyed talking to people. I loved dancing with my friends. I also enjoyed the part where even though I was in their world, I wasn't part of it. I was merely visiting. And because I was just visiting, clubbing and bar-hopping, isn't something I'm going to make a habit out of. But, at least, now I'm not so afraid of it.
After this weekend, and after spending time with people who aren't part of the church-scene that I have been so accustomed to, I remembered how Jesus Christ came to us, because we could not and would not go to Him. I think that it is a great analogy to what Christians must do to reach people who don't know/don't care about Jesus. And this, among other things, is a sensitive subject within the Christian realm. But I would like to offer up my point of view, fully aware that there is potential for me to be wrong, but I will gladly take the risk in order to think outside the box and maybe to challenge others along the way: I know that as Christians, we are called to be holy and set apart. But we are also called to be great commissioners and be witnesses to the people that are in the world and trapped in their sin, like we, who now know Christ, once were. How can we be witnesses if we stay away from people that need to see Jesus? Is it possible to be holy and set apart, while being in these dark and forsaken places, for the sake of Christ and to the glory of God?
I think it is. We applaud missionaries for their courage in traversing over large bodies of water to live amongst cannibals, head-hunters, and witch doctors to preach the Gospel and live as examples of Jesus Christ. In my opinion, we don't have to go quite so far to minister to those living in the heart of darkness--though it will still require the same amount of courage, same amount of compassion and same amount of obedience, if not more.
If you knew me two years ago, or even a year ago and had mentioned the idea of going to a club on any night of the week, you would've been met by a response that would entail me giving you a lecture on why that's sinful.
Needless to say, I've mellowed out quite a bit.
Anyway, I went to Santa Barbara (woot) this past weekend and my friends and I decided to go to a club on Saturday night. It wasn't just on a whim-- it was part of a series of events known as the "Daniel Craig birthday celebration." And no, it wasn't like a James Bond convention/conference. No, nothing quite so creepy or fanatical. I'm talking about another Dan Craig, who happens to be turning 26 on Wednesday.
Before we went to the club, my friends and I stopped by a bar where they featured swing dancing music on Thurs-Saturday nights. Elise, my beloved ex-roommate, is the best swing dancer I know. I was excited to watch her dance because it really is THAT amazing. But what was even more exciting was that I actually got to use my I.D to gain access to something under-aged people couldn't. I know, I'm easily amused. I wonder what was going through the bouncer's head when I eagerly handed him my I.D, with a huge goofy smile plastered on my face. Come to think of it, I may have also told the guy who checked my I.D at Tonic about how excited I was to be there.
What I observed in the club and at the bar was pretty similar. For some reason, I had always pictured clubs and bars (and I'm sure that this assumption is not completely off-based) to be the breeding ground of all things blatantly sinful. Granted, it wasn't the picture of heaven either. When it comes down to it, it was a place for people to meet people. I mean, God did make us to live in community with one another and Christian or not, people will seek people out. It was very interesting to watch the friendliness and camaraderie at these places that will rival any Christian churches out there. People are generally very friendly, in a non-creepy way. They strike up conversations with strangers and offer to buy people drinks. A guy that was with us, offered to buy us a couple round of drinks--I politely declined, of course, due to my disdain for beer because it smells and tastes like crap--but still, I thought, how often do Christian guys offer to buy a "round" of sodas when we're at In-and-Out?
I was surprised that none of those things that I thought would happen to me, happened when I went to these places. I mean, fire and brimstone didn't start falling from the sky, nor was I struck by lightning--which I thought might happen as soon as I set foot inside a bar. And, I actually had fun. Sober-because-Christ-lives-in-me-and-I-want-to-be-a-witness-for-him, kind of fun. I enjoyed talking to people. I loved dancing with my friends. I also enjoyed the part where even though I was in their world, I wasn't part of it. I was merely visiting. And because I was just visiting, clubbing and bar-hopping, isn't something I'm going to make a habit out of. But, at least, now I'm not so afraid of it.
After this weekend, and after spending time with people who aren't part of the church-scene that I have been so accustomed to, I remembered how Jesus Christ came to us, because we could not and would not go to Him. I think that it is a great analogy to what Christians must do to reach people who don't know/don't care about Jesus. And this, among other things, is a sensitive subject within the Christian realm. But I would like to offer up my point of view, fully aware that there is potential for me to be wrong, but I will gladly take the risk in order to think outside the box and maybe to challenge others along the way: I know that as Christians, we are called to be holy and set apart. But we are also called to be great commissioners and be witnesses to the people that are in the world and trapped in their sin, like we, who now know Christ, once were. How can we be witnesses if we stay away from people that need to see Jesus? Is it possible to be holy and set apart, while being in these dark and forsaken places, for the sake of Christ and to the glory of God?
I think it is. We applaud missionaries for their courage in traversing over large bodies of water to live amongst cannibals, head-hunters, and witch doctors to preach the Gospel and live as examples of Jesus Christ. In my opinion, we don't have to go quite so far to minister to those living in the heart of darkness--though it will still require the same amount of courage, same amount of compassion and same amount of obedience, if not more.
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