Thanksgiving Break

Day Three of TGB: Three whole days, not much productivity going on. All the roommates and most friends are gone, and I am here on campus. Scheduled to work a around 20 hours this week. The rest of the hours will easily slip by without getting anything done if I don't watch myself. I wonder why I have such high standards for myself if in all reality I'm not disciplined enough to get anywhere close to them. I know that my faith doesn't hang on how physically/time-wise disciplined I am, but it sure affects how the rest of my life rolls. Right now, I'm not getting enough done because I am so very skilled at procrastinating. Right now, I should be finishing the book that was supposed to be read last week for class. Too late for that one, right? Might as well not read it now, right? No, because I want to say that I DID in fact read it, just not quite in the correct time frame..

And it sure doesn't help that I'll be home in 25 days. I told myself I wouldn't count down because it would make those 25 days worse and make me a worse person to be around. When you have 4 1/4 hours standing in a dressing room, there's not much else to do but count things. And I realized it doesn't matter how much I count or don't, I become a horrible person to be around when I'm just waiting to escape this place for 6 weeks. Those days I wait make Jackson and Union and the people I'm around seem so much less appealing because everything's being compared to Colombia. I am so blessed to be here surrounded by the people that I am surrounded by, but I get so antsy being "stuck." As soon as change is in sight, I always feel stuck till it comes. I need someone to smack me straight in the face and tell me to be here, because having my head in the Colombian clouds is not going to make the time pass any faster.

Creeps

I've come to a time when I am always surrounded by people, most of whom I really love being around. But when I walk into my living room after work and there isn't anyone there I always go straight to my phone to find out where my roommates are, if they're coming home soon, or if I can go to them or anyone else to be with people. I am not used to being alone anymore. Even right now I had to keep myself from trying to find people and let myself enjoy the solitude, but I couldn't stand the silence so I put on some music. The solitude has scared me. I'm afraid it means that I've spread myself too thin with people and can't depend fully on anyone because I haven't made myself available enough to them. The solitude makes me afraid that I'm truly alone, in every sense. The solitude gives my mind time to think, and often it thinks too far. Then the solitude deepens every fear and strengthens ever heartache that I had pushed away. Satan turns the solitude that I should be able to take rest in into something terrifying and destructive. He tries to reverse the healing that Christ has done, and sometimes I let him bring things back. I have to fight it. Not the solitude, but the temptation to let it scare me. Solitude does not necessitate loneliness, but I am too often convinced that at the end of the day all of this only comes down to loneliness.

John 16:33 says "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." I pray that peace will accompany solitude, and that it will be something I embrace at every chance.

And of course, with the solitude comes homesickness. I've made it 10 months with a few bumps in the road, I've got just under 2 months to go. I am more than excited to spend 7 weeks with my family at home. Oh, I thank my God that He has given me such a loving family.

Fingers crossed and deceivingly hopeful words.

We underestimate God so much. So so much. We pray little prayers because we imagine a little god who has small plans for us. So we set aside our big dreams and pray little easy prayers. Instead of praying brave prayers for healing and asking God to do the impossible, we pray that we may accept all circumstances and live honorably with how life rolls. Yes, when we realize that our dreamy plans don't match up with God's will, which happens from time to time, submission and trust come into play. Sometimes though, we need to challenge the easy flow of life. If things aren't getting hard and it's all just enough for us to feel okay with our lives, aren't we missing out on so much? If we don't take the big risks and ask God to see us through, how will we know that's not what we are supposed to do? When we say "everything just fell together so perfectly" for a circumstance or decision that had to be made, doesn't that make it sound too easy. Maybe that was good, but what if something so much better could've come about if we had passed up the ideal opportunity and smashed down the doors to impossible opportunities. When we wait for everything to line up oh so nicely, 1. we'll be waiting for a long time, 2. we'll have only a few good experiences. Why am I waiting for doors to open for me when I should be knocking them down? Yes, God opens doors and lines things up to show us stuff sometimes, but that is not always the case. I've been acting like that's just how my life will be-- I will wait for Him to open a door and then I will start on that path, but if I meet any sort of push against me, I'm out-- because obviously that wasn't really God's plan.. because, you know, He would've made it a walk in the park if it had been.

What if I've got it all wrong? What if He gives us a break every once in a while and proves Himself, but what if maybe He shouldn't have to prove Himself? What if I should be living to prove Him? What if I should really live the belief that He is Almighty and that He is God of this Universe? What if I started living like He was bigger than all of this? What if I am supposed to be dreaming bigger and risking more? What if we should all be pulling a Noah every day? And what if God doesn't nudge us to make every move? What if we trust the hearts that He has been molding and follow those dreams? What if, maybe, just maybe, He does know what's up.. especially when we don't?  And, what if we stop taking cautious baby steps but start running full speed to live, not just survive?

"Wait upon the Lord. Wait patiently." This is all over the Scriptures, said many times in many ways. And I waited for Him, and he provided. He was faithful, and now I have a job. But sometimes we wait when we should be up and going. Whenever we feel like there may be anything keeping us from following something, we back out, as if we were wrong in the first place. If we are living as Christ did and striving to be the salt of the earth, you can bet there will be so many things pushing against us. When our plans have great implications in the long run than we cannot yet imagine, and they are moved by the Spirit, everything around us will try to stop us. And so we take the easier good route and play it safe. We can count on enough things in life, we can secure future plans, but we still sacrifice enough to feel okay about the way we live. Well maybe we do us all some good to, at least on day in our lives, not know where our next meal is coming from. I can't say that this is the best for everyone. Maybe it is just what would do it for me. I think I need to live with more uncertainty, because at least that would me that I am taking risks and praying big prayers. Maybe if I stop waiting for clarity in future prayer and start trusting past promises then I will experience that big God that I say I believe in.

And what do I have to show

The summer's half over and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. My savings account is empty because I still don't have a job. I haven't painted anything great. I haven't written anything great. I haven't finished reading anything great. I haven't started any great projects successfully-- like learn a new language or play an instrument. I haven't become more disciplined. I haven't done anything. I was sure this would be a summer when I would become a better follower of Christ, a better person, a better friend, a better daughter, a better student, a better guest, a better character, a better everything, or a better anything at least. And what do I have to show for all these expectations so far? Not much. Not much at all. I've had a few good experiences that all amount to some fun. I've half read a couple books. I've gotten some sun on my skin. I've gotten good at going back and forth between going up hills and going down hills on my bike. I've filled out more job applications than I can count on my two hands and I'm still unemployed. I convinced myself after not getting a summer job/opportunity elsewhere that God wanted me here in Jackson for some great reason that would change my life. But maybe I had just missed the boat. I really missed out on some great opportunities that I could've had if I had been really trying earlier on this year. But once April and May rolled around, I had convinced myself "Oh, you see, I'm supposed to be here this summer, because God has some great plans for me here-- so I have to stay and it's really not my choice. You see, I'm submitting to God's will." But maybe I was just being lazy. I missed out on all those great opportunities and didn't want to admit it, so I would try to hold up my pride as I claimed God's Providence over my summer. So I was stuck here, telling myself "Trust God, He has it all mapped out, just wait for it to fall into place. Apply for some jobs, and you'll get the one He has saved for you. In the mean time, do something productive.. Read a book, brush up on your Spanish." And so I tried that for a few weeks. I had a list of goals in my head that I would reach by the end of the summer. I set highly productive standards for myself. And I felt great at first. I was being active, getting some stuff done during the day and spending some good times with friends at night.

But soon enough applying for a couple of jobs wasn't enough because I wasn't getting any responses. And it's been two weeks since that started. I've been applying. And applying. I've gone to just about every store and restaurant near Union and asked, even though I knew half of them would send me to some website. And I kept applying. But I took it easy. I wasn't being aggressive. And here I am now. Jobless. A failure. I have nothing to show. I want to make all these plans. But I have no money. Whatever money I had seemed to disappear with my dignity. My summer started with me being stuck because I had failed. And I find myself still stuck because I can't seem to reach the standard. I've got a bike and a hot sun on my back. You can only get so far with a half-working bike.

One thing I could praise God about was that I had been able to spend good time in His Word faithfully. So He kept revealing things about Himself to me, and I was encouraged. I knew He was guiding me. But I was still convinced it would all just fall into place. All the time I knew somewhere in the back of my head that God had given me a brain to figure things out and get a job. He had given my hands to get something done, and I wasn't doing it. He gave me the responsibility to use my time in a way that would glorify Him. And I wasn't doing it. I was wasting my time "waiting on Providence."

I realized how much of a failure I really was. I realized that I had spent 4 weeks of time that God had given me and came back with nothing to show. And then I figured I'd fix it on my own. I had wasted God's time, I would get it back, I'd make Him proud! It only took a couple of days for me to give in to Him reminding me that I couldn't redeem anything, much less wasted time. Only He could. I found myself broken, a failure before God, a shameful daughter of the Holy King. Then He reminded me what this summer had brought about so far. He gave me reasons to praise Him. I had been able to spend precious time with old friends and good time getting to know new friends. He brought me back to doing ministry with children at the Dream Center. He provided me a church full of people striving for the same goal that were going through a study on building Christian Community, which is exactly what God has called me to pursue. He gave me the chance become involved in my community in the weirdest way-- by attending free ballroom dance lessons at a local gym. And He was giving me time to spend in His Word and in His presence. I had so much time to spend praying, interceding, and listening to His Spirit change me. He has blessed me. Though I had still been wasting time and was not living my summer out to the fullest, He was already redeeming my shortcomings and my time wasted. He was blessing me nonetheless.

And though I still feel like a failure, though I know I won't be changed and happy and redeemed in an hour, though I know this is a process of change and building, I know that at least I'm not depending on myself. It would be so easy to stay in bed all day and wallow. It is so tempting to stay in bed and watch movies and do nothing and let myself grow bitter and depressed. I have to fight for discipline-- to do what I don't want to do, to let Him change me. So I will give this a second try and hope only in Him this time, and hold myself responsible for my failures.

Maybe this summer will be more than dancing and music, more than half-books and sun.

About time

_____

Goodness gracious. It's been a good few weeks. Hectic. Busy. Beautiful! I'm here to boast about my friends. In the midst of the crazy that was last week-- finals week, packing up and move out week-- was my birthday. I really didn't expect much. I would find joy in the fact that it was the last day of finals, my freshman year was complete, and a summer full of uncertainties and questions was all that lay ahead. I would enjoy my summer-- no matter how many questions I had, and that would be my birthday gift to myself. I would watch all my friends leave and know that I would see them again, for another great year together. Surprise, surprise, I have some pretty great friends. On Wednesday, the day before my birthday-- while everyone (except for me) still had several exams and a lot of studying to do-- I was going to collect firewood with my Lifegroup partner, Kyle. We were to have a bonfire on my birthday-- a little wood-sy celebration. Before I could walk through the doors of the PAC, he says "ehm.. so, yeah we can't go to the woods today because.. I lied to you.. HERE'S YOUR FIRST CLUE!" What am I thinking? "Whaaa... t just happened? okay, yep.. this is happening." I read the clue. It goes something like.."You need to save Mcafee.. but to do this you have to collect three relics to take to the Mistress of the Woods.. something something.. go to the land of small places." Evidently, that "land of small places" is the photo house. So we trek over there, Kyle's beaming with secrets, and I'm still in shock. In that instant I knew my day was hijacked, I had no choice, and I would love it. As we turn the corner to the photo house, I recognize Hannah's purple shoes, and she tells me to choose my weapons. There is an array of cardboard swords, hatchets, nun-chucks, and a shield. I go for the shield, they chuckle and tell me to pick an actual weapon as well. With shield and hatchet in hand, I follow the next clue to the million dollar entrance. Jonny stands there, the back of his car is open, and he is ready to rumble. He calls to me stand in the middle of that grassy area, and he gives his little "Keeper of the Gates" monologue. I am just waiting for him to ask "What... is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?" He tells me I must duel him for the key to the Realms. He cues theme music-- it blasts from the back of his car. Matt hobbles out and hands him his weapons and disappears with the sketchy carriage that awaited him. So we fight. His futile attempts do no good, his nicely duct-taped sword breaks, he runs away, I call him a coward and proceed to decapitate him. His dead corpse hands me the clue telling me it is time to take a break "for lunch and merriment." Jonny is slain and joins my ship, as I like to say. After a great lunch and falling asleep in cozy Barefoots chairs, I am abruptly awoken by a screaming Ruth-- telling me of the maiden that I must rescue. We wake Jonny and head for the Savage woods. We see Trey has Sarah captive, and so we charge with hatchets and swords in hand. Megan Kersey and Kaitlyn  attack from behind the trees, but of course we kill them easily. I ended up killing Kaitlyn several times that day-- zombie, perhaps? After defeating the girls, Trey tells me that to save Sarah I have to solve a riddle. He starts spewing off some American culture reference and soon gives up after seeing the confusion on my face. "So," he says, "I guess we will fight." He jumps down off the fort-thing, and pulls out two pencils. Yes, pencils. My shield goes up and we fight. It was one of the better fights I had that day, and I won. My shield showed signs of a struggle, but I saved Sarah, and Trey was dead.. dramatically so. His pencils were no match to my cardboard hatchet.

This clue sends me to Neptune's fountain (???). We set sail for the fountain behind Jennings to find Beckers there, looking so innocent and sweet.. pff. After Kaitlyn attacks, again, and does not back down, Beckers comes to my rescue. She tells me I have to retrieve her conch from the fountain. I get in and start feeling around, they're all chuckling and I see they're all looking at the bowl type structure in the fountain, standing as tall as me. "You've got to be kidding me!" I demand Beckers help me up, she gives me a lift and I get the conch out. Half wet, completely happy. We take a break, for studying and packing and such activities. I walk into Heritage wet, carrying several pieces of cardboard, including clues, a hatchet, and a shield, and a key and a conch. After a little break where I can't focus enough to get anything done, I'm called to go behind Pollard and Sullivan. Problem, these two buildings face each other. So I figure we try going behind Rogers, right between the two. Ruth accompanies me, and we find Jonny. He takes a good 45 seconds to stare at us. Matt's hand pops out from behind a tree with a camera. Jonny then leads me on a lap around Rogers, hand raised, almost marching as if into battle. I follow, figuring I should comply with anything and everything. We come back around to the entrance to the tunnels. And Two shady ladies await. It takes me a minute to recognize Andersen and Courtney. Painted mustaches, interesting costumes, and nerf weapons in hand, they await for me to approach them. They ask me "What does it mean if your blood type is O-?" HA, Kyle will never let that one go. I reply between laughs "That I'm an international donor." They hand me the "eye of the sphynx" and a clue telling me to venture into the woods at 9 that night.

This quest has been going on all day, and still it's not over. I can't believe my friends. I really didn't expect anything. Everyone has so much on their minds, so much to do and study, so much to pack and get ready for. They all have plans. And yet, they've spent their day doing this. Putting together this ridiculous quest. And I can't help but know that I am so blessed to have these friends. Friends who care enough to do this, in the middle of finals week, and friends who know me well enough not to send me on any ordinary scavenger hunt, but to send me on a quest, full of duels and keys, realms and forests.


Beckers' mom, sister, and best friends were here to get all her crap packed and home. They made pizza. Beckers and her family of 34 make the best pizza. I enjoyed it with my coffee. And then I went to church, and I became a member of City Fellowship Baptist Church. And I took part in my first members meeting there. And I fell more in love with God when I saw his body love each other that way. And I was reminded why being in Jackson this summer isn't going to be that bad. I get to know these people that I already feel so loved by. What a great place to be.


You could call it bliss. My night was.. bliss. We waited till after Food for Finals to go to the woods. We walked over to the woods, where they trusted me to lead. Baha. It was dark and I had never been on this side of the woods, but they gave me a flashlight and Kyle was close behind. We walked and walked, and then stopped. We walked a few steps off trail where a white box sat. I squatted close to the box and opened it. Play-doh, dinosaurs, sour patch kids, a toy wrestler set and notes from friends. Ah, bliss. "Thank you!" I didn't know what else to say. So I smiled at my friends. I know it's not a rare sight, my smile, but I hope they knew it was true. That box, and those silly toys and hand-written notes told me they loved me and that they knew me. Bliss. And we were still a few hours short of my birthday, technically speaking.

So I say thank you. Those two words should mean so much, but they sound so weak. But that's all I know to say, though it's true joy speaking those words. There are so many names that bring joy to me, so many that I thank for making this year what it has been.

Endings

It hit me today: I am two weeks away from being done with my freshman year. It's ridiculous. So much has happened, and yet it feels like these last couple of months moved by unnoticed-- not quite the way I expected them to. I hate that I felt like I missed out on something, but I have yet to realize what that something is...

 I love being able to rely on the fact that some people will always be doing the same thing at the same place. That way I know that when I just want to be, just be, I can do it there with them, because they'll be doing the same. But sometimes, I hear stories of great things that happen. I hear of adventures being had, spontaneous things occurring.. a lot.

And I wonder why my life seems void of that spontaneity. And I get bummed out.. because it's all become so monotonous. I hang out with the same people and we do the same thing everyday, and the few times they are "spontaneous," I happen to be gone/busy/doing something else, and I miss these rarities. So, I get bored.. I get bored quickly, and I want something fun. I want to venture in the woods and have stories of being chased by dogs and setting things on fire.. or something. I want to have endless stories of times we spent hours getting lost and not caring. I want to stroll into my dorm room, smiling uncontrollably, not a word to describe what just happened, scenes running in my head that I just can't believe played out the way they did. I want to make the greatest memories of times that just can't happen twice and I want to search out things that haven't been done, then do those things. I want to drop all my work and head out for an adventure. I don't care that we're 2 weeks from finals, I want an adventure. Maybe I'm tired of being in my dorm room by midnight most nights of the week. Maybe I think it's been too long since I've been to IHOP or Steak and Shake at unmentionable hours, maybe I miss taking 3 hour walks with a friend that felt like twenty minutes. Maybe I would like to be walking somewhere, with a plan, and have someone ask me to go do something random and totally unplanned with them-- and then do it. I am usually more than willing to drop whatever I'm doing for some spontaneous fun, but the opportunity just has come up recently. Maybe I need to wander back to Ayers where Emily and Kayla will surely give me the giggles by just the sight of that quote wall.

 and all this mumble jumble, me missing out on things, is of course mostly because of the amount of homework I've been getting. I left the 2D Art studio at 5 a.m. this morning after finishing my Honors Beauty paintings.. and arrived at my dorm room as the sun peaked over the the LifeWay building just to start on my World Politics paper that was due some 6 hours later. Last night was a good night though.. I guess it was more of an adventure than I have had recently, which is sad to say, seeing that most of it was me sitting and painting. But I did make new friends I think, at least I hope, and we sang in the racquetball courts and we watched the 1974 version of The Little Prince and we enjoyed our work. We listened to the rain beat down on the PAC and smiled at the sound of deep thunder.

 and all that ranting on 2 hours of sleep to say that you should all-- if you are here in Jackson-- come see the Honors Beauty projects at some point this week between 11 and 1 starting today and ending on Friday. Our official presentations will be today, Tuesday, at 11/11:15ish.. and there will be food :) So yes, come see how Honors is wonderful-- paintings, poetry, sculpture, photography, other really cool stuff that we nerdy kids make! Oh, and it's in the theatre good night and good luck!

Overflow

If I tried to give of myself, you wouldn't like what I'd have to offer. If the cards I put on the table belonged to me, I'd quickly lose. And I know this. I know that I have nothing to offer anyone. And yet, I try to find something of me to present to others, and I come up short every time. I pour out all of me and am turned away, being found to be not good enough, not quite what they were looking for, and completely empty. And I ask, "when will I ever be enough?" But I won't, I won't ever be enough. Anything I have will never be enough. I'm looking to myself as the source of satisfaction, the source of wholeness and fulfillment. Oh how I fail! I am so far, so unimaginably far from being able to sustain myself-- to, in my own person, keep myself satisfied. If I thought I was close to being able to do that, I would probably work for it, I would just kill myself to get there, to achieve a sort of divination. But I know I am hopeless. So I turn to the only hope I have, the one that used to fill me, and I let it fill me again. It renews me, it pours into me, replaces what I handed to others and what was turned down. I give of that, I present what I've been given. Surprise, surprise, what I give away, he replenishes. I am satisfies once more. Some accept what I give, others reject it. But I know that I am filled again, and so I do not wait to be satisfied by them. I do not hope that they will give of themselves when I've given of myself. He gave of Himself so that I might be able to give of myself to them. So I give, I give, and I don't wait to be given to. I am filled by Him. He is my source. And so I give and I let them receive. I expect nothing in return. I find unexpected joy in their giving of themselves. Of course, I now am being filled by my eternal source, and what they give simply pours over, and what a blessing overflow is! I am receiving, I am giving, and grace flows through me, love passes through me; and I remember that it is not my own. And so what I give is simply the overflow of the Giver Himself. I am no perfect giver, I sometimes reject the source, I seem to think I've become a source myself. I am never a source. I am simply a vessel. And as a vessel, I am not in charge of myself. A vessel is supposed to be possessed and used by someone else. I rather not be in charge of my life, I like depending on someone who knows better.

Airhead

I keep wondering, why is life so dandy right now? I'm getting closer to 8 hours of sleep than usual --every night, I'm going to all my classes, keeping up with friends, and having a blast doing it. I'm feeling a little less tired than usual and I've stopped drinking coffee by the pint (not going to lie, the first two days my coffee was replaced with migraines). My days are literally packed from the time I step out of my dorm till the moment my head hits the pillow. I get 30 min-1 hr breaks between a few classes or events/commitments, but honestly, I cannot buckle down in that amount to time to really do anything productive with my life, so I fill that time with the socializing, the keeping up with friends. That way I get little doses of friendship between the crazy, and I get to sleep soundly at night. And yet, when I crash at night, I don't feel drained or needy. I feel accomplished, I feel energized, I feel happy, and it feels like nothings is going to knock me down. I don't mean for that to sound like an "I'm invincible" kind of thing, but just that life is good right now, and the crap people are pulling around me is not going to mess with it. I feel comfortable. Comfortable. At ease.. comfortable. And then that word becomes uncomfortable. "Comfortable." Ehm, I don't know if I like the sound of it. Maybe I'll try something else, like "at peace with life," yeah. I can dig that.. but now that's uncomfortable. Why am I so comfortable?

Why am I comfortable right now? Why do I get to be comfortable? Why does that word feel so wrong? Maybe because I shouldn't be comfortable? But.. I mean, if I CAN be comfortable, why not? If I can juggle this life right now, why not? At the end of the day, I've let things slide, I've laughed, I've enjoyed my time, and I've made the best of my name-- I sure have made myself feel great. It's so easy.. it's so natural. Why would that be wrong? It's what I seem to do by instinct. At least.. it sings a louder song, and fills my ears with the beautiful lyrics "me.. happy happy me, wouldn't that be great.. for me?" It catches my attention, but something tugs lightly at my mind. "Him.. them... her.." but I've already decided the sounds of "me" are sounds sharper and stronger. So, I go for the song. I go for the easy, and I enjoy it, OH do I enjoy it! I love every minute of it, why wouldn't I? And soon enough the song in my head pours out of my mouth as well. "Me, oh me, did you just say me? I love me, don't you?" Or at least that's what echoes through my ears. And I'm disgusted, but it's so easy. It's so addictive. And I can't seem to stop.. is that right? People don't want to hear that though, but I try to yank them back. And some smile politely, some might even think I'm not blabbing about myself, but I know what this is about. I've decided that I matter more. I matter more than the people giving me crap, I matter more than whatever crap they're dealing with, I matter more than the name I've proclaimed, I matter more than you. And so I keep talking. I keep taking, and I take and take. Did I get tired of giving?

A leech. I guess that's what I'd call my "comfortable." I'm sucking from everything and everyone. I'm not giving anything.. to anyone. I've decided I matter too much, why give to the people pissing me off when I can just drop them and take from the people feeding my pride? So I decide that I'm in control of what I give and what I take. I've shut down all outward action--except for my mouth of course-- and I've upped the levels of intake. I've decided I don't need anything else. Me. Yeah, that sounds nice. I've got my friends-- the ones that make me look good, and the rest is under control. I can surround myself with all sorts of people and things that will huff and puff till my head's full, and I disregard anything or anyone that would need something from me-- anything that I have to work for. But I'm comfortable.

So maybe I rather be uncomfortable. Or maybe I know that this "comfortable" I feel right now is taking a bad toll on me. It's slowly getting its dirty claws on my heart, on my soul. He fought too long and bled too much for me to give in. So I have to fight this uncomfortable. I guess I'll start the fight. I'll fight the "me" ringing loud, I'll pay attention for the "Him.. them.. her" that leaves its faint echos. I'll lay down my crown made of plastic shiny crap that I bought at Hobby Lobby and I'll shut my mouth. I'll ask them about them. I'll try to fix what I've shattered. I will try to deal with the crap, to get to the person. I'll put aside my empty stories and listen for their stories. I'll minimize my mouth and max out my ears. Or at least that's the plan.. the theory for now.

I'll stop doing every thing in my day for me. It's about time I take part in things for the sake of others. It's about time I don't look at a picture of a starving child and go "oh, that's unfortunate.. listen to how I fed a starving child!" and I'll actually put my hand to the plow to do more than I talk about. It's about time I think of others not in relation to me, but to Him and to them.

And sometimes we get fed up and won't play along. And sometimes.. I won't fight.

"In God We Trust"

Though some people may call The United States a "Christian Nation," it is far from being a nation based on Christian principle and faith. If anything, the easiest way to function in this country is to be lax about your religion, and faith will clash with the "freedom" of these people. I guess it's good we don't hold to religious standards that aren't met by faith, but I'm used to living in a much more religious country-- not so much filled with God-fearing men and women of faith, but a country that has a holiday every few weeks for the sake of Saint someone or Mary Virgin of someplace. All I'm trying to say is that Colombia is flooded with the Catholic religion-- and this is reflected in the holidays. I'm used to a Spring Break that is more often referred to as Holy Week, because we get that week off from school the week between Palm Sunday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday. The week is more sacred for people, even if only for the sake of religion, but it helps Christians take the week more seriously. It's hard to step back and take the time to take in Christ's sacrifice as we inhale and remember his risen body with every exhalation. With the kind of week I've had, it was hard to crunch out those minutes to be able to really meditate, soak it in, and reflect. But when I did, when I just wrote, read, and thought, I was so humbled, so convicted, so broken, and so thankful. We've learned all about crucifixion in New Testament Survey and I couldn't watch that church Easter play in the same light tonight. We downplay or try to brush past the pain of Christ's suffering. We break it down to flogging, carrying a heavy cross, and the piercing of his hands. As the man playing Christ walked down the aisle with fake cuts and blood as he carried the cross and a Roman soldier beat him on, I noticed some people watched intently, others glanced and looked away, as if hoping that he would hurry up and be crucified already so they wouldn't have to watch anymore of it. I found myself thinking "this is kind of awkward.. are we supposed to just watch him.. or..?" Then I remembered, Jesus went through a lot worse than this, and I felt awkward.. good job, Sierra, you're shallow.

What I came to write about was Holy Week-- how this time last year I had just gotten back from one of the most amazing weeks of my life. This year? I am currently trying to repress this week into my subconscious, from which it will never emerge again. It's honestly a blur, one that I only want to get blurrier. Back to last year. I miss it, I miss it terribly. I miss the faces, I miss the songs, I miss the languages, I miss the river. My little brother got back yesterday from the trip I went on last year to the Amazon. Lilia put up pictures and wrote on my wall that the kids were asking about me.. by name. We were there for 8 days, providing medical care for a few Ticuna villages. Of course, I had nothing to do with the medical stuff, I just played with the kids and painted. I was especially touched in the third village, 2 de Mayo. By the end of our few days there I had accumulated a little gang of boys, ranging from about 6 years old to probably 10. They were my body guards, my buddies, my tree monkeys. I remember the first time I met them was when I was painting bible verses on the outside of houses and a couple of them started following me from house to house. They didn't say a word the entire time, I'm not even sure many of them spoke Spanish. But they stuck by my side, and I put them in charge of designing something to go along with the verses. I gave them each a brush a let them help. Soon enough it started raining and we joined Ruben in the river, playing and wrestling. When everyone went into the jungle on a little hike and we stopped at a fruit tree at the end of the trail, they had filled a huge tree and were throwing the fruit down at me, filling every one of my pockets and theirs with snacks. They ran along the trail, winding in and out of the yuca plants, playing tag, making quick appearances every few minutes as we all walked back. I loved those boys, and I miss them. They taught me how to count all the way up to 4 in Tikuna and they had a great time with my name.. "Sierra, cierra la puerta!!" I love that Lilia and Leo and my brother and the whole rest of whoever went got to see them and play with them, but I wish I could have. I wish I could bring back more t-shirts covered in paintings and hand prints.

On to other things I miss. Friends. Or better said, specific friends. I know people change, but some people just seem to get shadier.. at least the people they are with and places they go. I miss hanging out the way we used to. How we could spend hours doing nothing.. at least it wasn't quite as shady. So I get tired of shady, and I stop coming around. But there are other people involved, and I miss out on them too. The less shady, that is. We all notice that we haven't seen each other in so long, and we all miss it, we all want it back. People started thinking I got shadier, and maybe I did, maybe my life had become slightly questionable-- or at least from the outside. And I wanted to reassure them that I'm the same person, but I might have risked too much by not trusting that they trusted me. I am no circus performer, my balance is all too flawed. I think I had that balance for a few weeks.. but I got tired of shady, I got tired that it was always shady, that it couldn't move from there. So the group I had once neglected, I embraced, and so neglected what I had embraced all too easily at one point. I've been told that I'm really good at making friends. And yes, I think I can admit I'm a people person, but the problem comes when I make friends with people on both ends of the spectrum. I mean, I really do love it, it's diverse, and we know I'm ALL about that diversity stuff! But there's no middle. These different groups never seem to overlap, unless I'm pulling one into the other.. very forcefully. It's tiring, going back and forth. Trying to involve them. It's tiring when I want so badly to pour all of myself into all of the groups, all the while trying to be a responsible student (if you know me well, you know my efforts aren't significant). Some give back so much, and others, though they say they miss me when I'm gone, don't seem to enjoy me too much when I'm around. I carry too much baggage from the other groups, too much "shadiness" let's say. Everyone else in the group is completely giving to the group, but I can't, and I'm not sure some of them are okay with that. I'm afraid what I can give them, if I want to maintain some of the other groups, isn't enough. So I've been trying to give more, but I'm feeling it everywhere else. And so it's all thrown off balance.

22 days

what? I don't know if I believe that. 22 days since my last post. Not that anyone's missing out on anything, but I missed this blog some in those 22 days. Someone said today "you think about what you love" and I've thought about this blog a lot in the last 22 days.. I don't know if I dare say I love it though, those are strong words for something that will not do anything in the long run. And yet, I'm back, because I missed it, and it deserved some TLC. Who doesn't want attention from me, right?

So in these 22 days,
1. I got over being homesick--some circumstances that added to the emotional wreck were revealed and things were better explained. I'll be fine, I'm alive, and I can't wait to be back for Christmas, but for now, I'm here, and I am loving it, and will love it. I'm joyful, I'm happy, I'm back to being me I believe.

2. I am an official 2012 Life Group Leader. Had the interview, and just like everyone else, felt like it went pretty well. I guess it did go pretty well, because I went through some weird stuff tonight during New Life Group Orientation and will be headed somewhere great this weekend. Trusting Lee and Rachel to keep us safe and happy, though that shouldn't be too hard. I am crazy excited about next semester. I'm crazy excited about the rest of this semester! But all that to be kept for another day.

3. The guys played Culture Fest and rocked everyone's socks off. Boss rapped and girls swooned. Someone compared Dani's voice to Elvis Presley, Chris rocked the crap out of those drums, and Josh played some great solos on his guitar. People loved it. As I advertised in all my classes "How often do you get to see athletes play good music?" I was so nervous for them, I felt like one of those kindergarten moms watching their child, the one dressed up as a tree, in the class play. I was so proud, I'm pretty sure I was beaming. I know most guys don't like to be mothered so I keep away from that, but I felt like a proud mom... which might be slightly weird. But they're my boys, those boys, and they made me really proud.

4. I went to a rocking concert and got bronchitis, with a side of more sick. Fun. is at the top of my list for best concerts. Birmingham was shnazzy, and the group I went with was too much fun for my tired body. We sang at the top of our lungs the 3 hours back to Franklin at midnight and I think that's when my cold turned for the worse and inhabited my lungs.. good times. But it was worth it, it was amazing and I sure don't regret it. Only with the help of some antibiotics did I get over it some point last week.

5. Midterms. So, I only had a test and a reflective paper, but did I feel burnt out. Exhausted is an understatement. I was barely functioning. So when Friday afternoon came and all left for Spring Break, I took a nap. I came back from Spring Break still tired, but it's a different, good, fixable tired. I'm getting some sleep, and it feels so unfamiliar.

6. I went on a GO (Global Opportunity) trip to Hendersonville (Nashville) over Spring Break (last week). It was kind of amazing. Well, more than kind of. It was not like any other trip I've been on before. God answered prayers. There were great awkward conversations. And I learned a ton about sharing the Gospel with people who don't want it. I have so much more to say about this trip, and it's coming soon, I promise, I just don't have the minutes right now.

7. I've been caught off guard with the notion that people care about me. Of course I know people care about me... but I figured it was my closest friends, the few, the crazy. But I've learned that there are others who love me and care about me--and I didn't see it coming. I've been referred to as a sister a few times recently from different people, and once it was followed with a comment about being protective over me. I was assured that one friend was quoted to say that he would beat the crap out of anyone who laid a hand on me. I love these people, and I care about them, but a lot of time it feels like I'm farther into the deep end with involvement, and I'm okay with that. To realize that they do love me and really care about me-- and think about caring about me, it's good to hear. I wonder why they keep me around, why they put up with me, why they invite me and hug me. I wonder why they let me see it, see them live. There's no reason for our friendship, really. We don't believe the same things, we don't live the same way, we don't see eye to eye on most anything, but they've stuck around. I know my reasons, but I can't seem to understand theirs. Love me? eeeh, I don't know about that. That they now care about me.. I still doubt it, I don't know if I can fully believe that. I know I love them, but I don't really expect it to come my way, so I don't really know what to do with this. For now, maybe believe it.. maybe enjoy it.

Apparently

this is not okay. Apparently this is not a phase? But I'm convinced it is. I'm convinced that I'll get over this. Apparently I need to get back on track.. but I'm not sure I'm off track. Maybe I am "off track," but I really don't see it, I honestly think this temporary homesick dip in my life right now isn't me "off track," it's me living a continent away from home and finally getting a sour taste of balancing college life. I think this is necessary for me to start saying goodbye, realizing that I will never live at home again (at least that's the plan), and growing up. I don't think going home every time I miss it is the answer, because I would have had to go home at least a handful times since August. Mom asked me today to come home this summer, to trust that we'd get the money somehow and that I need it. Maybe I'm being stubborn, but trying to make that work would put a lot of stress on my parents, financially and emotionally, and I cannot see the possibility of me ever being able to pay them back for a trip over the summer and for Christmas. I'm tired of asking for money-- people have already given so much, I need to start working for it. And I'm trying, I'm trying to work for everything I have to pay for, because so many people have already been so generous in times of need, or just times of want, it's my turn to pull the financial weight. But tutoring in Colombia, which is pretty much the only work I can legally do there, can in no way get close to the amount I would need to pay for those trips, and on top of that I need to be saving up for doing my study abroad. Don't think I'm saying I don't want to go this summer. I want it more than anything, but right now it's more of an emotional weight to try than not to. I'm afraid it won't work out, and by the time that happens my heart will be in it, and then I'm back to square one, as I was last week.

Or I thought it was just last week. I thought I was coming out of that dip, I mean though Nashville made me miss Bogota, I really enjoyed it and was having a good time. I felt happy. And yesterday, I felt out of it, I wasn't sure what it was, but I was just not the same old me. The only place I found myself smiling and feeling okay was during the worship service at City Fellowship. I knew that God was and is using this to mold me, when we sang "You make me new, You are making me new" was when I realized that that's what is happening, at least, that's how this heartache will glorify God, if I let it refine me. Last night I headed to bed early, I knew today was going to be a long day. And around 11 I got a call that woke me up. My friend's mother had passed away. She had been battling cancer for a while now, and last night God called her home. I know is she doing what she did best, praising Her Father in His Presence. And so there were tears of joy for her, but the rest, those for her family weren't quite as joyful. To think that my friend didn't have his mother anymore, I couldn't fathom it. After trying to process and praying, I fell back asleep, and though waking up energized in time to swim, I went back to sleep. I didn't know how to process, so today I went on automatic, I didn't even know what I was feeling or what to do with them. Then my mom asked me to go to Colombia, and it got frustrating. Maybe I'm just pessimistic, but I don't think that it will work out, and it made me slightly angry that mom would even propose something that would get my hopes up.

"You're just not happy anymore.." My heart sank, it broke, and I couldn't hold it in. I didn't think this would ever be said of me. I was a joyful person. Others had told me, I was just always happy, not just happy, truthfully joyful. And now my close friend was telling me that I just wasn't happy anymore, and that's why I need to go back to Colombia for the summer. Unhappy? No, this is a phase.. that I thought had ended. So maybe I'm unhappy right now, maybe I can't seem to find that joy that once was mine except for in little moments. But if it's getting better, why am I still unhappy, if not even more this week than last.

And I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated that I'm not getting over this, that we're trying to make plans that have too high of a risk of failing, that everything else is going down the drain. I'm frustrated that I'm not doing my best and that I can't seem to get there. So I'm lashing out, I get angry at people, and I hurt them, or make them angry at me. I say things I don't mean, I focus my frustration on certain people and they think I hate them. I don't, I really don't. I've never been good with dealing with my frustration and anger, I was a devil child to say the least. I might not throw things anymore, but I sure hurl angry words and thoughts. I make people feel like crap, and it makes me feel worse. Then I can't explain myself or feel like I'm just making excuses, and I'm misunderstood and sorry. So if I make you angry or hurt you in these next few days, I really am sorry, it' probably not your fault, I'm being a butt-- though that's no excuse. Call me out, tell me I'm being an idiot and that I need to fix things in my head and deal with stuff, tell me that I need to get over it.

My head isn't quite convincing enough

Missing home stinks, so I decided on Wednesday that I would stop. Or at least that it would get better, and it has, but not by the means I was trying. I told myself that if I just decide that's it's all okay, I'm just being dramatic and emotional, and I'll be fine till December, then things would change immediately. So I told myself that to get over it, that I didn't miss Colombia but I was just a mess, and that I needed to stop thinking about it. It took me just about a whole day to realize that things didn't work that way. My head was saying it was okay and that I was fine, but my heart wanted more, it wanted home. I was longing for that nostalgia to be satisfied, but I wasn't exactly doing anything about it. I knew that there was no way to get what I wanted, so I told myself it was passing phase, that I didn't want it anymore. But it was there. I wanted home, and I wanted it just as badly. I could act better, but it wouldn't go away. I felt less like an emotional train wreck, less likely to get depressed and sleep my life away, more like I had a hold on things, but I couldn't change that want to go home. So I left it there, and I'm sure it will stick around for a little while longer, but at least it doesn't have it's control on me. Realization: I'm an idiot, my head can't control my heart on this one. I can choose to be okay with having that constant heart ache, knowing that I will go home soon enough, and in the meanwhile I can choose to live on, to be happy with where I am. So my heart will hurt every once in a while, and I will always want to go home, but I can be okay with that, I can get used to that, I can trust others to be there, and I can deal with it.

Of course, as soon as this started making sense in my head we're driving into Nashville. The city lights are sprawled before me under the night sky and my heart aches. I'm so excited to see something familiar, and I find home. At least, I find potential for a home in the comfort of the sound of traffic and in the towering skyscrapers and in the cracks on the sidewalks. I am learning to love Jackson, but it is no city. And so Nashville fills my heart with happiness, but it soon turns into heartache. I don't only want this city, I want to see Bogota in that city. I want some shopkeeper to call me "mija" or hear children say "seño." I want to see the familiar faces of the indigenous and the needy, the broken and the wanting, I want my home, not just a home. But I'm okay with wanting. I decide that I'll take in the city while I can, and take it with me, let it give me a part of Bogota. I decided that if I have to live in the US for some time after college, I would head to Nashville.

And for a little change in topic. Something I've been meaning to write about and which I am still learning about. Trust. Yes, I am so cliche, that's what I'm writing about .. but it's how trust works in my life.
This is pretty much how I think I work--but things change, as we'll learn shortly.
If I don't know you, my level of trust for you has everything to do with my first impression of you. If I feel comfortable around you, I will trust you hands down till you lose that trust. If that first impression isn't so good, I won't trust you at all, until you change that, if you ever do. It's not at all hard to gain my trust.. I will be skeptical, but a few right moves and you're in. This can be a problem. If I trust you off the bat, I really trust you. I am naive and expect you to be trust-able, and so I'll act like that's how it works. I've figured that you've been good to me so far, why would that change? I fall prey to deceit a little too easily because of this. And so I am so disappointed when you show yourself not trustworthy. And I realize that I shouldn't be trusting people- I have no right to. So I lose trust in them, and I then it's hard to redeem.

And if I don't trust you at first, because of first impressions, I really don't trust you. And I won't hold you up to anything. Warning, if you show yourself trustworthy soon enough, or just seem to show this in a few occasions, I'll trust you, even if I shouldn't. So I trust too easily, and get hurt too easily too.

I get hurt because people aren't to be trusted. I was reminded of that this week. I'm not saying that I can't count on anyone; there are some people that I can count on to pull through most of the time, and I know God pulls through every time. But I trust some people with too much. I expect them to be there when I need to, because they have at some point. And they won't be there every time. Actually, some of these people were only "there, that one time" because that's just how it worked out. They weren't exactly intentional about caring for me, it happened to be convenient. So I trust people easily, and because people don't pull through, I get disheartened, and for a while, I don't trust any of them, and I find myself alone, bitter, and confused. They seemed so trustworthy, but they didn't pull through when it mattered. And then I remember that they're human. I know I'm not always going to be there for everyone, and neither will they. So I guess I shouldn't trust people quite as much as I do.

And this leads to my friendships. I trust my friends with everything.. or at least I did up till now. (I know I'm saying I should trust people less, but I'm not sure this will actually take its effect). I put so much of me into the friends that I've chosen to be intentional with, and when they don't pull through, when it seems they don't even try, it changes things and I trust them much less. They won't always come through, and I get that, I won't either, but when they see me trip and don't try to stretch their hand to reach me, and watch me fall, how can I think they tried, how can I think they cared? We've spent so much time in this friendship, and at this point I can't feel them push for it, I see them passively fall. If they can't give what's missing when I come short, how can I keep pushing? And yet, I push, because I let people take advantage of me.

Like a book

People seem to think that they can read me. Some can, but those are few. I can actually only think of two people who can read me, my expressions, and know what's up. So many other people seem to think that they'll be able to figure me out. I see them searching but I keep it closed. Sure, on here I let it all out, but in person, you would never know what's actually going on. I'm like a vault, yes, that's an overused metaphor. But really, my friends who don't read my blog, the wiser majority, wouldn't know what I'm going through this week. They're so oblivious to how badly I don't want to be here, how much I am tempted to just crash into bed and never leave, how easy it would be for me to fall into some sort of depression and let myself get sucked into it. I'm not saying they're not attentive, that they don't pay attention, because they do, and they care for me, I can tell. But I cover everything up so easily with a few loud outbursts of laughter and a groggy smile. I am usually tired and happy, and it is so easy to fake. Yes, I'm tired, but that smile probably isn't deeply true-- not this week. I can smile at something funny, I'll giggle at anything, but the nagging of this week's crap doesn't leave the forefront of my mind. If you didn't know otherwise, you never would. And so people don't think twice about how I am. Why would they? I'm laughing-- across Cobo in fact, and I'm still going to Bible Study and hanging out with people. As long as I think someone might be watching, I play it up, I act like my normal self: loud, happy, and stupid. When they're not looking, when I'm walking down the hall and they're not around, the show's off, and if you didn't know me, you might be able to tell something's up. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.. and I won't let it. Because if I do, people who would care will care. And I don't want to burden them with that. I don't want my crappy week and weak heart to weigh down on their days. So they don't know, and unless they read this, they won't know. And then I deal with it on my own when I really just wish I could accept the embrace and let them love me and care for me. And that's selfish.. people would say it's not selfish, and maybe it's not, but making someone else have to deal with what's going on inside my head and my heart just doesn't seem fair.

Didn't think it would come so soon

So I made my friends stop their productive lives to go waste time with me tonight. I said I felt socially deprived and knew that this week would be hectic or I would be out of town for most of it, so I wanted to just chill before it got too crazy. Lies. I'm such a liar. But I was fooling myself at first. I really didn't know why I felt so needy, so those are the reasons I came up with. Now I think I figured it out. And I'm getting it out of the way before it gets worse. I would've put it off, denied it, buried it, tried to forget it, and then fallen apart. I've heard that that's not exactly healthy, so I guess I've brought myself here.. where I told you I would do this. I'm dealing with crap, and here it goes.

The crap I talked about at the beginning. Not going home. I think it started when this semester started taking it's toll on me. I have realized that my classes are more, harder, and longer this semester. I'm doing more outside of class, and more things are going wrong with my body than I can count, and though I'm learning how to balance it, it won't ever stop being tiring. And it's wearing me out, it's taking every ounce of energy and at the end of the day I feel so empty of any desire to move. I don't feel like I have energy at the end of the day to pray, and I thank God that the Spirit intercedes for me when I can't, but I'm not okay feeling that way everyday. So that started this dealing with round. I'm just tired, and that is heavy on me emotionally. Second, I haven't talked to my parents, really talked to them in too long. I've had little conversations on skype recently, but I haven't really just sat down and talked to them. I honestly don't even need to talk to them. I wish I could just have my skype video open to my dad reading the newspaper and I could sit at my desk and work on something and just know that he's there, a continent away, but that I can talk to him. I want to come in from class and stand beside my mother in the kitchen and just talk. So I miss my parents, I miss talking to them. It's not like I sit in my room with all this time and just forget to get on skype.. I never have more than an hour, if that, to sit and talk to them, without having to be somewhere soon after. My schedule is killing me, and it's not even March yet.

I've been trying to swim as much as possible recently. I love swimming, I love the feeling of sore arms and worn muscles, I love water. But I think I've been trying to swim so much because I'm just trying to escape that hectic schedule I've run into. I think I've been trying to get away from anything else that would trigger my homesick heart and swimming puts my in a place where I don't have to think. I swim, my body goes into automatic, and when I realize it, I'm going as fast as my weak body will let me along the lanes and the life guard is looking at me like I'm crazy because I look like an absolute idiot. But swimming is something that doesn't connect back to Colombia with memories, but I think I feel more at home when I swim. I swam some with my mom in Colombia, even some at Union when we spent a year in Jackson for furlough. It reminds me of mom, but it doesn't trigger sadness. It let's me escape all of that and just swim. It let's me be, let's me not think, not process, just put it off, let it out with the intensity of my strokes and the energy I'm putting into moving.

I've skyped a few friends from back home recently, and I realized how long it had been since I talked to them when I had to generalize something that had happened a month before. These are my two best friends, and I felt distance between us, and I'm not just talking about physical. I cannot stand that. This is what I fear most about not being home-- losing my friendships, letting them fade. It kills me that I don't feel like my schedule allows time for me to sit and just talk with my best friends as if we were sitting together on the same couch, because it doesn't even give me that time for my parents. I miss them and our stupid bickering over my over-analyzing, and their fact-of-life statements and everything else. I feel like I'm missing out on so much of their lives, and I hate it. I absolutely hate it.

"Everyone" went home this weekend, or at least that's what I've been hearing. I am seriously so happy for the people that spent a great weekend at home with their families, but I wish I could say the same. Going home for the weekend will never be an option, and that just comes with the missionary kid life, and I'm over it, but it's just a crappy reminder when everyone else does go home for the weekend. When a friend goes home to be with his mother before and after surgery to visit and spend time with her, and my family goes through so much medical crap and I never have that option, it feels like a slap in the face "good for them, but never for you Sierra.. hope nothing ever goes seriously wrong with one of your parents.. because you're too far to ever get there in time." I know that seems a little dramatic, but honestly, my family has so many medical problems, its a scary possibility.

Another, though I keep telling myself that December will be here soon enough, I know it won't. I know it will take a lifetime and a half before I'm back in Colombia. One of my friends who lives here has the chance to go down for a week next week to help out on a missions trip, and I am so happy that she gets to go for even just a week, but I am so jealous. She tells me I can't say it'll be December before I'm home, because that's what she thought and all of a sudden she'll be there next week. But she's got some ridiculous connections and sketchy ways about getting places (totally joking, dear) and I just don't have those chance to go home like she does. People are still surprised that it will be that long before I'm home, and I just shrug it off with "I've got to work this summer so that I can be there for Christmas" but every time it comes up, I feel it. Somewhere inside it hurts, and sometimes I don't realize it, because I numb it, I phase it out and act as if it's okay. But it's not, and so it builds up to nights like tonight. My Monday schedule killed me and it didn't help that we talked about Colombia for a good 15 minutes in my night class. Of course most of it was about drugs and violence, but any other small thing tugged at my heart. I was so excited to be talking about Colombia, but it was killing me inside. So when my day ended at 10, I didn't want to sit in my room and ignore it. I wanted something familiar-- I wanted people who didn't have to talk about anything that would get my heart going but who just being around could ease me, get my mind off of it. They didn't know I lied to them, they didn't know I would come home and get slapped in the face with a wave of emotion and cry, they didn't know how crappy I felt inside, how bad I just want to be home, but they didn't have to. Of course they know now, because they have no lives and read about my lame life, but that's okay. I said I would deal on here.. and I believe this is the first real "dealing" I've done in a while. It's not been to this extent since January. I didn't think it would take this long, but again, I didn't think it would come so soon.

and I can't stand the thought of summer coming. I love summer in all the sunshine, freedom, and all that jazz. But I pray to God, I pray that I am too busy to think about how much I miss home, because at that point I'll have been away from home longer than ever before and that's just not cool.

marks unaccounted for

I will always have at least one bruise somewhere on my body.. at all times. Sometimes I know where they've come from, but most of the time I have no idea where I got them. Right now I have an interesting bruise on the inside of my leg and one above each knee, none of which I can explain. I always have at least one on either shin, also unaccounted for. Today I acquired a new, very lovely bruise on my already hurt ankle. I was pulling myself out of the pool after catching a swim between classes and my foot caught on the edge of the pool. When I got out I noticed a chunk of flesh from my big toe was gone and replaced with a nice gush of blood that kept coming for about 20 minutes and which is now covered with a cute little Obi-Wan band-aid that Anna Loi gave me. Along with my new flesh wound was a painful blue bump on the top of my ankle. Something in there got hit, popped, and is now a nice shade of bright blue. At least I can tell you how that one happened. This kind of bruise wouldn't really bother me except for the fact that the whole foot has been bugging me for a good 3 weeks now. I officially have tendonitis.. and it hurts like a muffin-eater to walk on it if I don't take my doctor-approved meds. From the top of my big toe up to my ankle, right where my new bruised is placed, is on fire half the time. The doctor said to try to stay off it, ice it and start physical therapy to fix the damage I've already done. I've bought ice trays, but they sit empty on the kitchen shelf. Stay off my feet.. on a campus college... not happening. Physical therapy I have succeeded at-- second session tomorrow morning, though I've not been the best at keeping up with my homework. Aand I'm really bad about taking medication.. and so I wonder why the pain persists. I'm such a bright person.

And the scars I have.. so many that I do not have stories to tell about. Maybe two.. I can tell you two stories.. if that. I have a big one on my right knee that I attained on a middle school retreat. That one came with a concussion, package deal! We were playing some stupid game and I was running across some kind of court with a huge bouncy ball, two girls on either side of me ran into me, the ball went flying and so did I. I skidded across the asphalt and finally stopped, turned on my back and everything was black and spinning. Scrapes along the side of my face, my hands and arm, and a nice bloody gash on my knee. What a site to see, an even more delusional Sierra than usual.
The other one I can tell, and I'm not sure it really counts as a scar, is from this summer. I say I'm not sure whether it counts as a scar because its just a dark spot on the inside of my right foot.. so I guess it kind of is a scar..? We were riding horses in the sand dunes of Peru.. yes, it was amazing. My horse was going a little too fast down the dunes, and as we turned to go up the next one, his knees buckled and I was gone. In the process of me falling off the horse he kicked me in the foot and then fell on top of the right side of my body. Luckily my back had been killing me the few days before and I was already on some pretty heavy pain killers, so it didn't seem as bad as it was when it happened. The spot where he kicked me, where pain was shooting through for a few days is where he left his mark, the little shadow of a scar. There was internal scarring--if that even makes sense-- inside my right leg for a few months.

Other scars I have are all over my legs-- some of the mysterious bruises have actually left scars, somehow. I guess I do have another scar, mostly faded now. It was quite prominent for a few years tho. I backed into a radiator one summer in Ecuador and had three fat lines on my calf burnt into my flesh, what a great feeling. I guess a few of the scars I've had can be proof of some of the places I've been, so I guess that's cool. There are several tiny marks that tell of the couple of times that I've ventured into the wild and dangerous Amazon jungle where bugs of all sorts liked to take a little flesh and blood from me (please note sarcasm, I am simply appeasing those who have a certain image of Colombia).

I've come to realize that the bruises that I cannot explain just come from my clumsiness. Most people go through a clumsy stage in middle school, maybe even into high-school; it's a phase, you get over it. I have no hope of getting over it because I know that my mom has never gotten over it. Clumsiness is not a stage in life, it's a way of life for my mother and I. We have two left feet and can't make sense of the spaces we're in. I remember one morning in high-school my mother came up to my room on the third floor to wake me up for school and as she left my room and started walking down the spiral staircase she somehow fell and ended up face down, legs above her, moaning. It was a miracle she didn't break both her legs, they were just badly bruised, but seriously, how do you even achieve to fall that way? She has serious skill.

Not enough love to go around?

I love people-- we don't really need to go into this, because if you've been keeping up, you'll know that I much rather be with, invest in, love, and goof off with people than most anything else. And I love so many people. I've come to realize that Union happens to have a lot of really awesome people. Problem: I want to love, hang out with, invest in, and goof off with all of them; there are more people than I have time. And to top it all off, you never stop meeting all these great people at Union. It's like a never-ending flow of greatness that I just want to always plunge into. And I want to get to know every single one of those great people to their very core- because I know it would be so worth it. I would see so much more about how amazing they are and love them all so much more. I want to listen to their stories and have talks that mean something; I want to know these people, every single one of them. But I can't. I can't listen to every story intently and invest so much in every one of these people-- there are too many people. So I find myself trying to juggle 35 friendships and I have great hopes for all of them. I want to really know all 35 of these people and build amazing relationships with them.

If I could really do this, that would have to be all I did. But I am also a student, a daughter, a club member, and part of the body of Christ that is the church. These other things take up quite a bit of my time, probably most of it actually. So with what's left of my days, those few hours, I try to fit 35 people into it. Now this doesn't work, because I find myself working so hard to keep up all 35 friendships and realizing that soon enough I'm only able to give a small fraction of what I should be. So I give 35 20% of me, because I want to know all 35 people. But now the number's gone up to 40, so I'm really giving a little less to each one. And I happen to forget a couple people, and so I have a good lunch date with them. And then I am exhausted-- physically, emotionally, and spiritually, because God has become one of the 40, instead of the One above the 40. Some of the 40 people I am trying to get to know aren't responding to my efforts, and that breaks the camel's back. I am worn out and juggling 40 semi-shallow friendships that are struggling to survive the limits of time and humanity. I can't take it anymore.

And then I remember that, unlike popular belief, I am not Super Sierra. I am trapped in the body of a mere mortal, and so am limited by time and my physical need for rest and balance. And I have to make a choice. First I have to pull God out of those 40 and set Him above. Then I have to decide who's going to make the cut-- who's going to be a part of a the few that I will be able to invest in and love with every part of me, not just fractions. And that number cannot be anywhere near 40. I can only really know a handful of people, if that. I can love and know well maybe a dozen, but I still won't be able to spend as much time as I'd like to getting to know them. So I choose, somewhat consciously, who I will invest in, who I will spend time loving and being with. And it's great when they're willing to do the same. And it stinks big time when they don't see it that way, and I get frustrated and feel like I've been wasting my time giving to these people when they're not willing to let me know them. But I choose to love them, through their rejection and back, in hopes that one day they'll open up. Maybe they won't let me get close, so I'll back off, but I will love them, I will not give up on them.

And I feel like I have it under control. And then more people come into the picture.. and the people I've chosen to love become another on the list of many.. and I can feel it. And I start the process over. And it's shaping in me a love for these people, whether I can invest in them or not. I still want the friendships with those I have come to know or wish to know, but I can't keep them to the same extent or intensity, I have to make a little time here and there every once in a while, to let them know I haven't forgotten about them. And there are people that come in and out with the seasons, and there are those that stick all year round, but we have to fight for those. We have to bite and beat time to keep these couple friendships going, because to let them fade would be telling them they never made that big a part in our lives, and that would be a lie. So when people say that all their friendships are seasonal, I hear them say that they're not willing to fight, that none of their friendships meant enough to fight for them. I don't think I can believe that, and I think they'll regret letting those friendships fade, because they knew each other.

My friends of today make up a weird group of individuals that I love to death. I've chosen to spend these days with them, and I hope they can choose the same for me. If they don't, I will keep loving them and I will fight to keep them. Some I don't know as well as I'd like to, and I'm waiting for them to let me know them. But I have decided that my days will be well spent getting to know these people that mean something to me. I want to mean something to them on the day that we part.

Bad Habits

I've got quite a few bad habits. And I've never been very good at getting rid of these bad habits. They've stuck with me mostly because I haven't fought enough to get rid of them, or once I started getting over them, something happened and I fell right back into them. The ones I can think of at the top of my head are
1. I bite my nails- I know, gross. I don't know why I do this, maybe it's a nervous habit. Being still freaks me out sometimes, so I usually go to tapping my foot, rubbing my leg or biting my nails. I don't know if I'd go as far as to say that it's a "deeply rooted psychological issue" that I have to resolve, but I've never been able to stop. Half the time I am doing it unconsciously and by the time I realize it, all progress is gone and we're back to square one.

2. I put things off. I don't take advantage of the time I have, and I leave things till the last minute. When time comes to do the work, something comes up and I end up having one too many all-nighters. I can't seem to spend the time at hand, whether just an hour or so to go ahead and finish my reading, and I end up with 6 hours of work to do with only 3 hours to do it. This is something I can and will fix, someday-- tho I am not sure I will be victorious soon enough. But I'll have to just make that decision every time it comes around to it.

3. I overbook myself. I tell everyone yes and find that I end up only giving each of them a small part of what they deserve. I decide that since each of the events that's going down start at different times, I can spend a little time at each one of these. So I spend 30 minutes having dinner with one group of friends, an hour at someone's board game night, another 30 minutes hanging out with friends who are having dinner together-though I've already eaten, and then being picked up early to spend the rest of my night and maybe part of the next day with the friends that replace my sleep and steal my sanity. I burnt myself out in high-school when I tried doing this with volleyball, spring play, Student Council, creative outreach, SSLT, and tutoring. A few other random things were thrown into that group and I ran on pure adrenaline for the last 3 months of high-school (I literally slept at least 15 hours every night of the first week after graduation).

4. I put the important stuff on the back burner. I get reminded of the urgency or absolute necessity of something in my life, but I don't put it into practice and when things start getting messy it takes me a long time to remember why things went wrong. I'm quite the forgetful person.

5. I'll do just about anything for you if you ask me to. Sometimes this means I get taken advantage of and used, but sometimes it's okay. This is something that is going to have to be hashed out on a later date.

6. I compare myself to everyone else.. in every possible aspect of life. I put everything about me under the microscope and I find myself looking at others and then me, as if we should somehow match up. I compare what I look like to how others look like. I compare my friendships with those of others. I compare my habits. I compare my place in a group of friends. I compare the way I carry myself with others. I compare the way I live my daily life. I compare people's perceptions about me with mine about them. And when I fall short in my own eyes, which happens to be consistently, I beat up on myself for being such a loser. There's always something to change. Either I need to be more approachable, or I need to be less obnoxious. I need to be more of a quiet person. I need to be a better friend. I need to be that person. I need to not be me. And I ask myself why I can't seem to develop the kinds of friendship with a specific person over months that I see built in weeks by another person. I ask why I'm not the person they're willing to invest in. I ask why I can't keep my mouth shut when all that is coming out of it is stupid immature ranting and laughter. I ask why I can't seem to be like them and be me.

I'm sure I have many more bad habits, but it would take a while to pull them all out of the closet. So for now, there's a few of my best qualities.

When your friend accuses you of stealing her man..

You laugh and say "oh you've got back up!" Yep, true friendship right there. You can see the fake heartbreak in her eyes, but you know that there are some real tears she is shedding in her heart. She's got several men lined up in case this one doesn't work out. She'll survive this, she can fall back on so many others. Now I don't have that many accumulated. I have no back up. She really needs to stop being selfish.

But that's not at all the situation. We're boy crazy, you could say. But we really aren't. We just like to joke around about our friends, and we claim some, we call some. I've had a few harsh names thrown my way, but I can respond with an "Oh you love me! Come here, sweetie!" We know it's all play, she knows I love her and I would never do such a thing in real life. But our text conversations usually aren't real life. They're weird situations we imagine would be true one day. We can joke like this because the possibility of it coming true is so far off.

So much would have to happen for these things to ever be possible. People would need to change, situations turned around, and honestly, we would have to be the girls that their guy friends liked. This is nothing against her or me, but I can probably say it is true for her as it is for me that we easily become one of the "bro's." Or I guess we really become the sisters. These guy friends like these that I can remember back to middle school having around were great friends, but sometimes became too comfortable with treating me like one of the guys. Soon enough I felt like they didn't see me as a girl at all, and sometimes it's important for guys, especially good friends, to remember that we still are females. I don't want my guy friends to put up walls because they think we're just such a different species, but I don't want them to treat me like a bro. I want to be able to have conversations friends have with each other, and I want to know that these guys respect me as a girl. So I don't want to be seen as a bro, because I am not. I cannot biologically be a 'brother' because I am female.

I can say I love being seen as a sister to most of my guy friends because I know I can trust them. I can be assured that they would be there to protect me and help me out. Problem for girls who are seen as the sister is when they don't want to be seen as that sister. They build up a great friendship with a guy who really is brotherly, but because girls are just problematic, they stop seeing the friend as a brother and see a potential future in him. Being like someone's sister is like being "friend-zoned" for girls. Or maybe that's just what I think. For the most part, I don't want to be anything more than some people's sister and I love all the big brothers I've come to find at Union and even from high-school, but again.. girls are problematic. So, friend, (yes, you who holds that "grudge") I feel like we could probably relate in this.

You're not from this world.

Apparently I've gotten a little emotionally detached from my posts and I've been putting more of my head into this than of my heart. You've got to understand, it is a lot easier for me to tell you what I know and what I think about it than what my heart is saying. It gets real easy for me to rant about the superficial feelings I have about objective things, and so I default into that when I get on here. It might be about me, but its not really saying much.

In one of my first posts I wrote that I would be dealing with the whole "my parents are across an ocean and it sucks" and through posts on here. Well, other than the post about my dad, I haven't really come back to it. I lied to you guys, I didn't deal with it on here. I have dealt with this realization more than once since writing that, but my first reaction is not to blog about it. I never even think about talking to anyone about it. And so no one knew. I literally didn't tell a soul when I sat in my room feeling lonely and crappy and too far from home. Honestly, it would've taken much more to make me talk to someone, and even then I would probably still try to fight sharing. Dealing with this outwardly, on here, is going to take some getting used to.

One of the main reasons I think I haven't been posting when I've dealt with being homesick is because I hate to make people listen to me talk about how much stuff sucks. Yes, I should be able to blog about it and you can read if you want, but I think I'm afraid I'll push you all away with my crap. I don't want to dump my life on others, I don't want you to have to feel for me. I guess you decided to read this, knowing that it will be half-way personal, and so you're ready to read about my crap, but I don't know if I trust you to stick around. People don't like dealing with the the humanity of others, and I'm afraid you won't want to deal with mine. So, I don't post about it. And we get back to the same place: this is a blog, and one of my first posts said that I would deal with stuff on here. So, I have to remind myself-- "Sierra, you said you would be willing to be vulnerable." I have yet to completely trust whoever is reading this to read and be willing to keep reading. I know that soon enough, if I let my heart filter into these posts, no one will be reading anymore. Maybe I don't know that, maybe I just think that, or maybe I just fear that it will play out that way. Too many maybes, I might as well just post and not care who reads. I might as well write and hope, or not hope at all, and that way I won't be disappointed. And whoever is reading will just remind me, once they stop reading, that people get tired of you and leave, that consistency is something that man will never possess in his own power.

Maybe I should take my friend's perspective: "This is my blog, I will write what I feel and think and you can read it, or you can stay away. If you don't like it then you can stop reading, but honestly you are reading at your own risk. So if you are offended, tough luck, go away." Problem-- I'm not at all as bold as my friend. She knows that people will like you or they won't, and there's not much to do about it. Don't try to please them all, you'll lose yourself. Speak your mind.

I know my worth is not in the people around me who approve or dislike me, but rather it's in my God who is glorified even in all my flawed craziness. But I'm human, and I want to fight for God with my life, but I fall short too often. And I look to the flesh for worth rather than trust that my hope is in God. And the flesh never fails to disappoint me. I decide that I don't want to offend anyone with anything I say because I don't want anyone to have anything against me. Once again, this is a problem, because so much of who I am clashes with most of everyone else. What I believe, how I live my life, goes against the world's "This life is about me and my pleasure and desires and making myself feel worthy." I believe in a God who has called me to forget myself and follow Him- to put myself after others and their needs. But I fall short; I am selfish, and decide that I want to try to please myself with the world instead of taking hold of what I know is eternally satisfying.

I forget that He who is with me is greater than he who is with the world, and I fear people and their perceptions of me. I am afraid that they won't like what my heart says. They will tell me I'm wrong and or they'll see my weakness and push me aside. I let so many things get to my head, and when they get there I don't let them go. I go over them too many times. Over and Over. They go through my head till they tear me apart or I break them down. The times I can break them down are few, but they do happen, when I trust the Man who's in charge of my heart to help me deal.

And I will try to write what I need to write. I will try to deal with life on here, but don't trust that it'll all be on here. I can't do that to you, make you read about it all, every time it comes up. I can't make you sit through that, over and over. So part of my dealing, I guess, will be me making myself share my heart- make myself willing to let this post speak for me when words can't be heard through the choked back tears. Well, that sounded dramatic, but seriously, if you want to hear about my crap but don't want to have to deal with the physical mess of it all, you can just come here. I'll just hope someone will be willing to deal with the physical mess as well as the rest.

So there's a shallow look at my heart. A jumble of fears and insecurities. Haven't heard that one before, have you? Too many of us deal with the same stupid insecurities for us not to see a pattern. I've seen the pattern, I see the reason, but I see the solution, and yet I fail to get over it. I fail to put words to practice and I fail to trust. But I'll save that one for next time.

Infamously Unknown

I was talking to a friend recently and he was telling me about how people he had never met knew all about him. Or at least they thought they knew about him. He was encountering people who had heard all sorts of things about him from others who thought they knew him; it was said that he was a troublemaker, a party crazed student, an all around bad kid. He admitted that some of the presuppositions that people held about him stemmed from some truth, but the worst of it was just ignorance on their part. His name carried a reputation that he couldn't seem to shake. I couldn't help but think about the day I met him. I had actually heard only good things about him, though few: really nice guy, good person. I let the one day that I met him change my mind completely. He didn't meet the great expectations I had for him so I started thinking the opposite about him. At that point is when I also started hearing worse things about him. I let the few times when his name and something not-so-great were mentioned in the same sentence shape my perception of him.

I do this way too often. When we know little or nothing about someone, even if it is good, we soon let what bad we hear rewrite who they are. Sometimes what we hear is true, and people say what they say for a reason, but why have we let what others say change our minds? We let what we hear get to our heads, and we decide what kind of person everyone is, and then we are thrown off when we get to know that person and they don't match up with what we decided was true. Because it wasn't true. Don't let it become an absolute until you've seen it proven to be so.

Maybe we should get our faces out of other people's lives and stop deciding with our ignorant and biased brains who they are. I know, I know, we're all just so smart, we have very discerning minds, we just know this stuff. But really, do you really know that much? No, you don't, and I don't. I will never know enough, learn enough, or understand enough to justifiably decide what someone is like before getting to know them. So why don't we just stop wasting our time and their time by thinking about them and who we believe they are. Don't think about it, just let them walk into your life, spend some time there, and leave the mark that they made, not the one you set up for them before they showed up.

And.. and and and what right do we have to even think so critically, analytically and decisively about people? First off, can I just say how creepy that sounds? You're laying in bed at night or something less weird, and you spend how much time thinking about this person trying to figure them out. Second, it's not your life to be calling shots-stop trying to figure out their crap when you've got enough of your own to share. C of all, spend your time and the little brain juice you've got to think about things that make you better, smarter, or just less creepy. And for quarts, you're not in control of most of what happens around and to you, so you look for it elsewhere, well let me tell you, as soon as you decide something about someone, your control will be lost because they will change your mind or change themselves.

and sierra's corner of nonsense, or whatever I called it, is back for a moment.
I know you, I know you, I know you so well. The words that linger leave traces of dirt, I trust them to tell me your story. You've no way to see what's said, you've been gone as your name's been built around the life of an absent man. The frame of words walks before you, but you don't wear his shoes. You're one step off, one step above the man that carries your name and dirties your face. He reached inside to scratch a soul, but you've got it on hold and he is clawing at the spaces between the words he's written.

My Kryptonite

I felt the need to write this post because I wanted to try to explain my life at this moment, the circumstances of today, to myself. Right now, my body is feeling the consequences of my weekend: not enough sleep, major procrastination on killer reading all leading up to last night, and just too much fun (all wholesome goodness, of course .. ;)) As I posted on facebook, "The weekend is the few days you have to rest after a long week of work, yes? Then why do I stay up later, sleep less, do more, and leave all the work for the end, making it that I start the next week off more tired than I ended the last week? Because it's so much more fun that way ;)" I'm afraid I got away with this last semester because I had a perfect slot for naps after my first class on Mondays. Over J-term, I had all the time in the world to nap after my morning classes, so I was getting home anywhere between 12 and 2 every night the last two weeks. I was still fitting in exercise, Jesus time, sleep, food, and cool people. This first weekend of Spring Semester proved that I could not get away with the same combination of greatness anymore. I had a great weekend, would do it all over again.. except for one thing-- I would have made the choice to split my reading up instead of leaving 4 books on my desk to be read on Sunday night. Needless to say, I didn't get as much sleep as I needed last night. I could've gotten away with that last semester or J-term with naps. Today, I tasted a long napless day. I hope to never return to such a God-forsaken place again.

I woke up at 9:30, after 5 1/2 hours of sleep (I can function on this later in the week with naps, but not on a napless Monday). After a much needed time with God in His Word, I went to World Politics at 11. Lunch at 12, Beauty, my Honors course, at 1--this course takes its toll on the mind. After attempting to read for ICS, I headed there at 3, walked out at 4:30, not even aware of what I was doing or where I was going. I had under two hours before I would have to return for my 3 hour class at 6. I went to my room and tried to nap. I lied when I said I didn't nap, I napped for about 20 minutes, not like it did any good tho. After some dinner, headed to class. I thank God for Dr. Allen and bless him for letting us out at 7:30; I was not in any way ready to sit there for over an hour more. At this point my head is throbbing, my foot is not any better than it was on Friday and its gotten cold outside, ew. My friends who saw me on my way back to my room can see my glazed look and slumped body and had sympathy--but really I'm almost all to blame for this.

It was a pretty harsh schedule for a Monday, but it could have gone so much better if I weren't so weak. "Weak?" you ask. Yes. I, Sierra Owens-Hughes, am weak. I know this is really hard to believe (cue the womanhood/weakness joke from a certain reader). My weakness, my kryptonite, is people. I love people, and it doesn't help that I don't like homework. I had meant to get some work done on Saturday but both Friday and Saturday nights I spent with friends goofing off, watching movies, playing music, going to Steak & Shake (now become a stable part of my week). I can say I stayed up later than I ever have for social reasons. I've only stayed up that late for school stuff--procrastination, of course. Unless it is THE time to do my work, i.e. the night before its due, I will always choose people over work. Last night I left the Superbowl party happening upstairs to start my reading for today. I even put American football after homework (please note the sarcasm). I knew it was time to get working, but when Anna knocked on my window I of course stopped my reading to talk to her. Someone returning to the party upstairs gave me flack for not working, but he agreed with my "people before homework" choice. I will always put aside my work if someone wants to talk to me, not because I don't want to be a jerk and say no, but because I love talking to people. I really love getting to know people. If you want to be my friend, be willing to just talk--about anything. I do not expect you to come to me and spill your heart to me, but lets talk. Except for a few exceptions, mostly just some people who creep me out or annoy the crap out of me, I want to get to know you. I really do! I mean, I will not lie, I can't stand when someone I barely know/don't know decides that they're going to tell me their life story over chat. That's just you wanting attention. Build a relationship with someone, don't just dump your life's crap on them. BUT, don't expect me to want to spend tons of time with you if all we ever do is goof off. It's fun, but if you can't have a real conversation with me.. that friendship isn't going very far.

Back to whatever I was saying.. it's not like every time I say yes to some text or facebook message I'm about to go have a great conversation that will deepen my friendships. Honestly, that happens maybe half the time, but I have to be willing to have nights where we aren't getting into deep conversations to also be there for the great times. And those nights where we don't have a deep conversation are still so fun. Those times when I just goof off with someone is where our inside jokes and great memories can be made. I might have just made it sound like I have to make the hard choice to hang out with people, no matter what. FALSE. I will say yes to hanging out with friends most any time. I love to laugh, and my friends make me laugh--that is why they are my friends! Of course not the only reason they're my friends, but it does help. God has put some amazing people in my life, and I take the time, lots of it, to enjoy them and our friendship.

Sometimes I should be making the decision of putting rest or homework before just hanging out. Unless it's some crucial situation where someone needs me, I don't always have to say yes. I can't not say no because I'm just some people pleaser, but because that's my weakness. Any chance of having fun with friends arises, I can't say no, I can't help myself. And then the horrible situation comes up every once in a while when several chances of hanging out with there are several different groups of friends doing something, and I just don't know what to do with myself, so I try to do it all and find myself blissfully exhausted. Maybe just a couple of times have I regretted staying up a little late to have a great time with friends instead of doing much needed work. If I've regretted it, it means my work load is bad and I will be running on adrenaline and caffeine for a few days.

Prime example of this whole situation: tonight. I got back from class at 7:30, decided to write a "quick" blog post about today and go to bed early, you know, get some good much needed rest. What happens? I am in the middle of the blog, talking to a few friends on skype and texting, but nothing that will keep me up till later than needed. Then I get a facebook message from Mr. Dani Marti with a much too familiar command. "Sierra, ask Celia if she wants to get some dinner! I'd like IHOP!" So I tell Celia, we head to Dani's within 15 min. The three of us plus one of Dani's teammates go to Steak & Shake for a while, then spend way too long digging through the 5$ DVD bin at Walmart. I get home at 11:20 and I can't just leave my blog, I finish it. Now, don't think I spent some hours on this blog, I just get distracted easily. My "get rested tonight" plan is out the window, but I thank God that I don't have class till 10:50 tomorrow. And I never regret our family dinners.