a vestige of thought...

Call me crazy, but I have decided to attempt to type all my journals onto my computer. I have found a program that, once everything is typed up, will allow me to easily search all of my journal entries quickly and easily. Plus, I will be able to take this to college with me, while my large physical collection of journals will have to stay at home. Wish me luck. I'm currently on February 2, 1998.

Saturday night club was early. It was over by 9:00. Keane and Kaden were asleep, and all of us were free for the evening. First we (the band (Eric, Britt, Larry, Sean & Scott) and myself) had a rousing conversation on Catholicism. Eric, who considered becoming Catholic for awhile, gave explanations for several of their core beliefs that were more clear to me than any other explanation I have been offered. I think that, unfortunately, a lot of these core beliefs have been twisted, which is why I cannot agree with them. Eric also pointed out that the Catholic church is an instrument that God uses to draw people to Himself. However, the devil has infiltrated and twisted the system. This is ALSO true of the Presbyterian church and of every other denomination.

I wish I could communicate this stuff more clearly. I guess my point is that some questions that I have had for a long time were answered and I feel more at peace now than I did before.

Our highly intellectual conversation was interrupted when someone came to tell us that the band needed to move their equipment for "entertainment night" for the campers. After that I went back to the cabin with the band who put together a laptop and an amp of some kind for an almost-theatre-like viewing of Bruce Almighty complete with lots of pop, microwave popcorn and other varieties of junk food. Paul Birkhalter (summer '04 intern) came up to STC to visit since he lives nearby and joined us for the movie. That was pretty cool. The group of us hung out until nearly 1:30 before collapsing into our respective beds. It was great fun.

The end.

I've not been with any members of the Cincinnati group besides the band for most of the weekend. This afternoon, however, I had about 5 hours of free time. I ran into a random girl at the snack shop and we started talking. She asked me to come back to her cabin with her and it turned out that she was from Cincinnati and in the cabin led by Brandae, Kelly, and Kara. It was really fun to hang out with all of them for awhile. I'm not sure how this even started, but before I knew it, I was sitting underneath two middle school girls and being tickled to death. I am very, very ticklish, as any if the hundreds of people who like to poke me in the side can attest to. Somehow it became a game and for at least half an hour at one point and another 10-15 minutes before I left I had anywhere from 2-5 girls sitting on me and tickling my feet and my sides and my neck and my legs. I was laughing so hard that I was crying and screaming and whatever else came out. At some point one girl decided it would be funny to give me a wedgie. The first time it wasn't that bad. The second time I was getting kind of tired if it, but I just brushed it off. The THIRD time though, she pulled my underwear up to the hood of my sweatshirt, ripping it, and making me scream (noisily but wordlessly) in a way I don't think I ever have before. I'm still sore. And then they tickled me and sat on me some more, with everyone standing around watching, and I honestly did start to cry. But I was still laughing, so no one could tell the difference. Finally I yelled something to the effect of, "I REALLY HAVE TO GO BACK TO MY ROOM NOW!" and they let me go. As I was leaving they begged me to come back and stay in their cabin that night, which I refused on the grounds of it already being waaaaay to crowded in that room (which it was). I, in my messy, sweaty haze, ran back to my cabin, collapsed, and hid for awhile. Later a leader said to me, "It's amazing how much those kids like you!" Ha. I had fun hanging out with them, but if I did it on a regular basis I think I would never be able to sit down again and would constantly run out of underwear. Middle school leaders, I admire you all the more. Give me little kids anyday. I put two screaming children to bed tonight and it barely phased me. Those middle schoolers tired me more in two hours than all the little kids I've met have this whole weekend.

Brandae: "Christy, I have never ever heard a noise like that come out of you!"

After dinner a 12-year-old tried to pick me up with some group support from his buddies. That was funny.

Here I am in Georgia, for the first time. I feel like such a northern girl here. It's one of the few places I've been where I'm the one with the accent. We officially left around 7:30 from the church and arrived here at 4:15 AM. *yawn* It would have been earlier, but Eric accidentally took a wrong turn and we went about an hour out of our way. The reason that we took the wrong turn was that we had just stopped at McDonald's (at two in the morning) to get food. Eric (completely convinced that he was playing the part flawlessly) pretended to be a southern hick at the drive through and everyone in the van was cracking up. There is no way the lady believed him, but he never broke character. "Buckshot, son, put that gun down! Yer gonna poke yer eye out!" And "Martha, honey, they don't have milkshakes at two in the mornin'. D'ya wanna Diet Coke?" We were all laughing so hard after we left that he turned onto the wrong road. No one was angry but him and we arrived, felt our way to a couple of rooms in the pitch black, and crashed (clothes and all) until about 10:30.

To be continued...

I'm leaving at 6:00ish (try 7:00 or later) to go to Sharp Top Cove with the band that is playing for the middle school Young Life weekend. I'm babysitting for Keane (3) and Kadin (13 mos) Hauck while their parents are playing/singing. Everyone else is leaving tomorrow after school, but we happy people get to drive through the night. I think we are planning to arrive around 3:00 AM. Wish me well. Hopefully I will have good stories when I return. And hopefully I will still be sane.

What is it about the mail that is so exciting? Every day when my family members and I hear it delivered (and we have ears very finely tuned to the slightest sound of the mail flap) we all rush to gather the mailbox's contents and pass them out to their respective recipients. But there's never even anything good there! It's all college letters or bills or advertisements. The last time I actually received a note of any kind was... Christmas, I think. I got a single Christmas card. There must be something appealing in reading someone's words in their own handwriting. I have had much success keeping up correspondences via email, but my every attempt at letter writing fails. Of course, it now costs over $20 a year to send a single letter each week. Internet correspondence is much less expensive, and I'm all about cheap these days.

I want to invent a font that is my own handwriting. I wish I knew now to do this. I think I shall add it to my list of things to do before I die.

I had a very odd and humorous dream on Saturday night. I have not remembered one so clearly in a long time. (You may or may not have noticed how lax I have become about keeping up my dream blog.) Anyhow, it went something like this:

I was kidnapped my Saddam Hussein. He kept me and a bunch of other prisoners in these sort of chicken yards with low fences around them. At some point a guy came out and shot all the prisoners. I lay there on the ground for awhile, waiting to die, and then it occurred to me that I didn't feel very much like dying. Nothing hurt and I couldn't feel blood anywhere, so I figured the bullet must have missed me. I lay there for a while longer, playing dead, just for good measure. After a time I got up and went to the edge of my yard, where Saddam was standing. I said something to the effect of, "Um, excuse me. I'm not dead." He said (in a British accent), "Oh. Well, can I give you a haircut then?" Of course, I didn't argue. I figured the worst he could do to my hair would be better than being dead. So he gave me a haircut and it actually looked pretty good. I complimented him on it. Then he took me into his super-secret back room where he kept lots and lots of American Girl dolls and cut their hair in his spare time. He told me all about how cutting dolls' hair was his passion and how he was thinking of leaving politics and terrorism and going into the doll fashion business. I told him I thought this was a fantastic idea. And then I woke up and laughed.

I hate missing people. It's painful. *sigh*

I love homeschooling, but I am very glad that there is one part of "regular" schooling that I have not had to give up. Ever since I was little I have loved getting up early to watch the news, see if school is cancelled and, if it is, going back to bed. Sleeping in is so much more valuable when I don't get to do it every day. This morning I woke up at my usual 6:30 and went downstairs to check the school cancellations. I had pretty much lost hope when I looked out the window and saw only a light dusting on the ground. Fortunately, Finneytown had a two hour delay anyway. I went back to bed but before I fell asleep I spent about 20 minutes savoring the fact that I didn't have to get up. Life is good.

Now I'm watching Jeopardy! and across the bottom of the screen I saw this notice (among others):

THE LITERARY COUNCIL: CANCELLATION OF APPRECIATION DINNER CANCELLED. I guess that means the dinner is on then? I hope all the attendees are literate enough to understand that.

I got my car back today. It's all pretty and shiny and working again! I'm so happy to have it back. The car repair place gave me an aloe vera plant. Haha. So, I was traumatized by being in a wreck, had to call about 80 thousand people, do without my car and everything in it for a week, and spend $10 more to fill up the tank that I do with my car, but I figure I came out ahead because now I have an aloe vera plant.

Today I spent most of my lunch time trying to figure out how to download and install Open Office so that I could open Microsoft Word documents. After reading lots and lots of information on the internet and fiddling with lots of different applications I got it to work... and then discovered that I could open Word documents all along with Appleworks. Go figure.

Random fact about me: My mom keeps carrots in a tupperware container with water to keep them from drying out. I like to drink the water that the carrots have been soaking in. Lots of vitamin A. Maybe that's why I can see in the dark better than Andrea.

When I said here is a link to the story about the youth pastor, I really meant that here is a link to the story about the youth pastor. Enjoy.

I returned to Cincinnati late yesterday evening after a weekend of hiking up steep mountains, tripping on rocks, getting sunburned (or is it sunburnt?), spooning, and smelling like wood smoke (probably the best smell in the world). Here is an eclectic collection of memories:

~Roasted apples! With cinni-shug! Most superb.

~Night one:
Somebody: If you have a mummy bag, it's warmer to wear fewer clothes.
Somebody else: I'm strippin'!
Me: Yes!
Jaimi: Me too!

Later

Jaimi: I'm FREEZING!
Me: The key is if you have a mummy bag, ya dork.

~Night two:
Me: My thighs are cold.
Jaimi: My thighs are amazing.
Me: *nearly died laughing*

~Me 'n' Caitlin singing Disney songs for a really long time

~On the team ski-walking things: "1,2,3 RIGHT! 1,2,3 LEFT! 1,2,3 AHHH!" (everyone falls over)

~Spoonage!

~spooning with Cait on the bus

~Violin and cello duet! Encoring at Experience and possibly at church soon!

~Mae forgot Rachael

~Laura is an awesome french-braider

~Mae makes me happy

~I <3 my Weird Wyoming girls!

~Chief, the grumpy bus driver

~Caitlin: "From now on, everything is Chief's fault"

~Kara broke her foot while singing Veggietales and dancing a jig. That's about the most amusing way I've ever heard of to break a foot.

~I nearly took a shower, but didn't.

~ENDLESS Mafia games on the bus!

~Turley always died first

~Paul SO needs a girl

~Ghost stories with Mae and the Wyoming boys.

~Paxton trying to get me to hide in the dark woods. It didn't work.

~"Humans can lick fingers too."

~Albino eyes

~Lee freaking out. "Geeze, why'd you tell me that! You said it wasn't scary!"

~stale marshmallows

~Mrs. Hensey bought me Jelly Bellies!

~Margarita ("My parents were hippies and it means Daisy in Spanish")

~"Brandae! A HA HA HA HA (Kara laugh)"

~Memories of the murder pit

~LOTS and LOTS of spaghetti

~Henrietta, the wood stove

~The floor under Henrietta catching fire

~communion with white bread and apple juice

~"What color underwear are you wearing?"

~Zaxby's (I didn't get any, but I ate everyone else's)

~Caitlin and her beef jerkey

~Caitlin and her starburst belly jeans

~Caitlin and her rogurt yovered caisins.

~How to get guys: wear beef jerkey around your neck.

~"Signs" that didn't work

~Killer Wink WON'T work on the bus!

~Andrew, the awesomest mayor

~Mae killed me

~I was the Mafia and I WON!!! Bwahahahaha!

~Livy! My favorite Plunge freshman!

~screwy age distribution (freshman & sophomore guys and jr. and sr. girls)

~rumors of the "loft of love" in the guys cabin

~We got hoodies!

~Headline: "Girl on way to Asbury College, murdered in cold blood"


I'm sure I'm forgetting some, but that's all for now. Stay tuned for more later and please add your own!

Here is the blog of a 33-year-old youth pastor who went back to a public high school for two weeks as a sophomore.  I think Rich would like this guy.  

The band, not the girl. Though the girl is fantastic as well. Even if she doesn't read my 'blog.

This one is my favorite. The words are great, but the piano part is amazing. I listened to it about 15 times on my way to and from Physics today.

We're So Far Away

Remembering, everything
About my world and when you came
Wondering, the change you’d bring
Means nothing else would be the same
Did you know, what you were doing
Did you know? Did you know
How you would move me, well
I don’t really think so
But the night came down
And swept us away
And the stars, they seemed
To paint the most
Elaborate scene, today

How could we know, that so this show
We learned so much about ourselves
From Toledo, to Tokyo
The words were scribed on every page
And now there’s books up on our shelves
Did you know, how you would move us
Did you know, When the lights
First came upon us, and we
Saw the everglow
And the moments magic swept us away
And the young mans dream
Was almost seen so plain

When was the night
That showed us the sign
Revealed in the sky
To leave all behind
But where to begin
Throw the caution, to the wind
We’ll reach for the stars
Everything is now ours

Did you know, how you would move me
Did you know? Did you know
How you would move me well
I don’t even think so
But the moments magic swept us away
And it’s so close
But we’re so far away
It’s so close
But we’re so far away

Word has it that my car is currently in pieces and I will get it back next Tuesday or Wednesday. Until then I get to drive this very cool but gas-guzzling rental. I got the car Tuesday and as of yesterday afternoon I had used a quarter of a tank of gas. I do drive a lot compared to many high schoolers, but a tank of gas in my car will last me two weeks. This does not make me happy. I want my car back. Among other things, all my CDs and my sunglasses are in it.

Ok, I'm done complaining. Why don't stupid people pay attention when the light is red and the people in front of them have stopped?!

It has been an interesting 24 hours. Yesterday I was merrily making my way to BAYSO when I stopped at a red light at the end of an exit ramp, like any good driver. The driver behind me was not paying attention and rammed into my rear left wheel and side-swiping the door, causing over $2500 in damage. Yick. Fortunately, no one was hurt, the other guy was insured, I have a rental car (paid for by insurance) until my car is fixed, my mom was with me at the time (otherwise I would have had no clue what to do), and it was definitely not my fault so everything with insurance has gone really smoothly. Overall, this is about the best possible bad situation. In hindsight, it really wasn't bad. At the time, though, I completely panicked. I think I started screaching "My car!" really loud and I know I cried. The worst part was that I was required to call lots of people, which is always stressful for me. It did put things into perspective for me. I felt really selfish to be so upset over a luxury that so many people wouldn't dream of having. And (so I'm told) I will barely notice any damage when I get the car back. Plus, I get to drive a really cool, brand new Mitsubishi until my Saturn is fixed. The car had only 26 miles on it when I picked it up. Sweet.

I've been discovering more and more excellent ones. I like to sing them, but I like the words even more. Many of our modern style praise songs are good, but nearly all of them fail to reach the depth that most hymns do. The following, In Christ Alone, is an exception. It was written in 2002 and is quickly becoming one of my very favorite songs.

In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song;
This Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All,
Here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone! – who took on flesh,
Fullness of God in helpless babe!
This gift of love and righteousness,
Scorned by the ones He came to save:
‘Til on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied –
For every sin on Him was laid;
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain:
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again!
And as He stands in victory
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me,
For I am His and He is mine –
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life’s first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
‘Til He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand!

Look at that! I have two whole comments on that last entry! Haha. Life's not bad. ; )

Last night I went with a bunch of girls to the Wildwood Inn in Florence, KY to celebrate Brandae's birthday. It was quite a lot of fun. The things we talk about... my goodness. Haha. I can't say as I was terribly impressed with the hotel staff though. The indoor pool area was amazing. Besides the large pool, there was also a huge hot tub with a waterfall in it. Apparently you had to be 16 to use the hot tub. I did not know this, as I did not have my glasses on and could not see the signs. But no matter. I am, after all, 18. It should not have mattered. The first time I got into the hot tub there were several other girls there. Again, I had my glasses off and was pretty much blind. I guess they all looked underage because the pool official guy came over and said, "Everyone under 16 has to get out!" A bunch of girls grumbled and groaned, but got out. I didn't move. The guy stayed there and looked at me and stated very emphatically, "Everyone under 16 must get out!" I said, "I'm 18." He said, "Do you have ID?" It was in my hotel room, and I told him so, adding that honest, I'm 18, and you can ask my friend's parents over there. "Are you sure you're 16?" "I'm 18!" And then, in a very rude tone, "You sure as hell don't look 16! Get out!" Well, I tell you, I was STEAMED! He could have been civil and said that he really needed to see ID. I would not have been pleased, but I would have gotten it. Perhaps even in this circumstance I overreacted. I stormed out of the pool area, snatched my towel, stomped across the parking lot in the cold rain (in only my bathing suit and, now, my soaking wet towel), threw my stuff around in my room until I found my drivers' license, stopped in to tell the other girls to bring their IDs with them, and stormed back over to the pool and got back into the hot tub. The guy never came back over, but I so would have loved to shove that in his face. In that respect, it's probably good that he did not come back. I wrote an email of complaint to the hotel today. I'm curious to see if they will do anything. I'll keep you posted.

I ran on my treadmill this evening because I was cold because every time I say 'I'm cold,' my dear mother says, 'then to run on the treadmill.' So tonight I ran without her even saying anything. I ran and I warmed up and I took my hoodie off. But then I started to get cold again so I said outloud, 'Ok, my hotness is wearing off now.' And then a little voice in the back of my head said, 'Christy, dear, your hottness will never wear off.' And the big voice in the front of my head said, "Well it's nice to know that somebody thinks so." And then I put my sweatshirt back on. On a related note: I watched "The Biggest Loser" while I ran, since it happened to be on the channel that the tv was turned to in that room, and I reflected on the weirdness of the fact that some people can lose more pounds than I weigh and still be overweight. It's strange to think about.

Sometimes I read other blogs and I think to myself, 'why can't I write excellent blog-things like that?' And I get in the mood to try. Whether I succeed is up for debate. It seems to me that a successful blog must have at least five readers, which I am fairly certain that I do not. I could be wrong, of course. I read enough random people's blogs to realize the chance that someone random may read mine. But it is probably conceited to consider that my ramblings are interesting enough to capture the attention of someone who does not already know me. I suppose, though, that all blogs are really written with the hope that someone who would not already know the blogger's opinions and circumstances will read the blogger's blog and be inspired to think about something in at least a slightly different light. Public platforms are more readily available at this point in time than ever before, but luck is much more necessary than ever before in gaining an audience.

I followed someone I know home from work today on the highway. Not purposely, of course. I just happened to be behind their car. Actually, it was the person's dad who was driving the car. But that is beside the point. I drove home in the rain with my instrumental music playing thinking, once again, about graduation and change and all that crap. I started thinking about this person and how many times I had been in that car- that I was now following- on the way to youth group and whatnot and all the great conversations that hey and I and several others used to have and how hey used to make me laugh and how I never even speak to hem anymore. And I sighed a profound sigh and got off at the proper exit and promptly forgot about it until this, the time of day when I pull random thoughts out of my head and parrot them off for my pseudo-audience to read (or perhaps just for myself).

I like to go up to Panera and drink tea or coffee and type. But I have had to give up blogging there, unless it is simply typing. For whatever reason, I cannot connect to Blogger there. I can also not send emails. I can receive, but not send. If anyone knows why this is and can tell me how to fix it, I would be forever in heir debt.

I hate it when I get really motivated to write something and then get distracted and lose all desire to work on it.

Something does not become officially mine until their is a pen mark on it. My sheets and my pillowcases are covered in little pen dots and lines that fade with washings, but never go away. When I was younger I wrote messages on my walls, which are now scrubbed and painted over. I usually have pen marks on my hands and sometimes on my clothes. Even my computer has a pen mark on it. There is a little dot on the button of my trackpad that found its way there only two days after I got the computer. I saw it, and I laughed.

Fact about myself that you maybe did not know: I very rarely take steps one at a time. At my house I always get a running start and go up them two or three at a time. Other places (such as church and the mall) I take them two at a time in a very dignified manner. Of course, when I really have to be dignified I walk up steps normally, but bounding is so much more fun.

And that is all for today's edition of Randomness Theatre. Tune in next week for more enjoyable unpredictability and pretentious spelling mishaps.

An afterthought: I find it a bit ironic that Blogger's dictionary does not have the word 'blog' in it.

#1:
Today's money system is weird when you think about it.  I work two or three days a week selling chicken.  Every two weeks I get a piece of paper with some numbers on it.  I go to the bank and give them the piece of paper.  Then I go home and sign on to my online banking account.  I see the numbers in my two accounts.  I need to pay a bill, so I click on the numbers in my savings account and move some of it to my checking account.  Now there is a bigger number in my checking account and a smaller number in my savings account.  I then type some more numbers, click send, and the number in my checking account is smaller too.  But now the Computer People won't come after me because I sent them Numbers to appease them.

#2:
Never mind, I don't want to share that thought. 

Rich has some good things to say here. I have some issues with Presbyterians, more specifically with Calvinism, but I love my church. Northminster has its heart in the right place. It's extremely exciting to be a part of this church right now. I'm amazed at how much we're growing and how God is working there when so many Presbyterian churches are losing members by the dozens. I see this as proof that having Christ at the center of everything is so much more important than the specific doctrine or politics one subscribes to. God doesn't follow man's (excuse me, 'earthlings') boundaries.

I recently figured out how to use Mac's Mail program.  I like it quite a bit, now that I've gotten the outgoing SMTP server to work.  Still, every now and then I check my email online.  I checked it today and discovered that since Wednesday I had received over 200 spam messages (and Gmail blocked every single one of them, so I never knew)!  My parents' spam filter doesn't work that well.  I have to wonder how I all of a sudden started getting so much spam.  I used to get no more than two a day.  But then, as long as none of them actually makes its way to my computer, who cares?

Sometimes writing just feels good.  I like to write.  Everyone knows that.  But every now and then I get into the mode.  I start typing furiously or scribbling on whatever is handy (I'm known to grab napkins and bags at Chick-Fil-A and cover every inch of them with scrawls when I have time) and every now and then come up with something excellent.  It's never as good as I think it is when I'm writing it, though.  While I'm writing in the mode my thoughts turn into Dufflepuds (see The Voyage of the Dawn Treader) andferventlyrvantly with everything I say.  "Hear here!  That's exactly how it should be said.  Couldn't have said it better.  Perfect, perfect!"  Then, of course, I read it again the next day or the next week or the next year and most often say, "what the heck was I thinking?"  

That was all pretty pointless.  Really I just wanted to say the word Dufflepuds.  I was reading Dawn Treader to Lisa earlier and I've had the word stuck in my head ever since.  Dufflepuds.  Hehe.

Something I don't like about iChat: I always forget when I have an away message up.  It's not a nice big box like on AIM, just a tiny red dot (as opposed to a green dot, which means I'm available).

My socks are developing holes.  This probably has a lot to do with the fact that I like to run down the stairs and slide across the hard wood floor.  It's quite difficult to choose between having whole socks or enjoying the thrill of floor-sliding.  

I get to sleep late tomorrow, so I think I shall go read for a bit. I'm nearly finished with The Phantom of the Opera. The book is SO much better than the movie (but then, when have I ever not said that?) More on that topic later. I'm off to enjoy staying up late.

Mom and I spent about two and a half hours this afternoon going through boxes of pictures.  I had to pick 7 from high school and 7 of me growing up (except I have 8 and I can't decide which one to drop) for my graduation.  It was kind of weird to spend all that time looking at pictures of myself.  I mean, is that pink wrinkly thing really me?  And that toddler?  Because she doesn't look like me.  How did she turn into that akward 5th grader?  And how did that 5th grader turn into me?  It's strange to think about.  Eighteen years of life sure amounts to a lot of pictures.

I also have to choose a song to be played before the ceremony.  That's going to be difficult.  And I have to decide which violin piece to perform.  At least that choice is more limited than the former.

Graduation is breathing down my neck all of a sudden.  Oi.