Growth

I re-read my blog, including actually reading the ones I'd written so blindly and ignorantly instead of merely skimming over them. I think the actual acknowledgment of those errors is healthy. Perhaps. It's so interesting to observe just how much I have changed in such a very short span of time. It's incredible. I should be studying instead of marveling over these things, so I won't do so long.
Even though I still don't feel quite as connected to God as I'd like to (and have in the past), I definitely am more connected than I was last year, or even for the majority of this semester. Even when it was "down to the wire" on the English portfolio, and I had barely half of it done, I was stressed, but not beyond functionality (<--significant; I have been stressed beyond functionality before). And you know what? I didn't need to whine, cry, or complain to anyone about it while I did it in order to tackle the task at hand. That's so substantial!
I am slightly ashamed that it's taken me this long to get the hang of this "going to college" ordeal, but I am thankful that I'm finally getting there. The most recent Bible verse at the Canterbury service was one about the Lord providing, and it spoke to me.
I'm one of those people that just worries a lot; we exist, and try as we might, sometimes we just can't help it. We envy those who can be so carefree. However, there is a healthy amount of worrying, and knowing where that line exists is the key to survival and retaining a sense of sanity.

All of my finals are this week, but I'm not freaking out. I know that if I do my best and study as well as I can, everything will be fine.

I see progress, and it is so comforting and invigorating.

Also, it's raining, and I'm inside, and it sounds wonderful. Often, in church at home, you can hear the rain pounding on the roof, and I always wish that the sermon could be paused (if I were up there, I would pause!) just so everyone could listen to the rain and enjoy God's creation, just for a few moments. Also on that note, I think my religious experience could be improved with more solemn, quiet, undisturbed meditation. I hope to find that some day.

Success = Bliss.

Portfolio = done, and it's more or less the right amount of pages, if nothing else.

Italian quiz has been made up; and because I'm a Spanish guru (but, according to Hinduism, not really a guru, of course!), I owned it with an 8/10, when I should have probably failed. I got a 100% on my speaking test in the same class; again, thanks to the marvelous language that is español. I struggled through the listening test, did a mediocre job that might turn out alright.

And I officially have nothing to fret about until my [psycho-crazy-hard, intense] music final on monday. I shall not worry.

The rest of today (after my religion class in a few minutes) is devoted to non-academic endeavors, including any or all of the following: napping--but probably not, relaxing--definitely!, getting a white elephant gift (or something to wrap it in), working out (every time I succeed academically, I do this...I'm such a weird kid), Canterbury parade and/or Christmas party.

I'm so happy. The Italian was a beautiful success, and I don't even know about the portfolio, but it's over, and I am content.

So very content.



This is a sand mandala constructed by monks who follow the Tibetan Buddhism. They have so much patience. They take an insane amount of time constructing it to be just right, then immediately upon finishing it (and perhaps taking a picture), they wipe it away (demonstrating the impermanence of life). They then gather up the sand and distribute it into running water to spread the prayers and good karma throughout the region.

I kind of want to make one (or help someone make one) some day.

Needy.

I never saw myself as that need before I got to college. I've finally realized it's because I had my family to rely on. Whenever I would be upset, I could go to my mom and cry, and she would hug me and tell me not to cry, and that everything would be all right. It's not like I did it frequently, but when I needed to, I could. Now, physically, I don't have them. My mom talks to me on the phone, but it's always rushed and in the middle of her job (which I shouldn't expect her to do anyway), or when she's exhausted after her job and/or classes.

Then I went to college. I immediately found a boyfriend who would hold me when I cried, and tell me everything would be all right.
Then we broke up, but I would still feel the need to have someone do that, and say that, so I would go to him, and he would.

I screwed up a lot today, which is really the pinnacle to this hell week, as Jordan has so aptly named it. I missed my "hearing" about our messy-to-the-point-of-hazardous room, when of course, I would have been the only roommate showing up anyway. (responsible, no?). Not only that, but remember how I missed my Italian class on Monday, you know, the last one I can miss before dropping my grade? Well, she sent us an email telling us not to miss today (final quiz) or friday. I missed it today. I missed the final quiz, too. And, I have no idea what will be on our listening exam on friday, and unlike in my Spanish class, this actually will be a problem, because I don't know Italian. Oh, that , and I haven't seen the teacher or students for over a week, nor have I even thought about that wretched language, save accidentally thinking "numero due" instead of number two.

And you know what? As I rushed (trying not to fall & die on the slippery slushy snow) to my Spanish class, continually reprimanding myself for wasting my time (my life, it seems, at this point), for staying up late for stupid reasons, and for just failing in general, I longed for someone to tell me it would be all right. How immature that is! How selfish! How pathetic!

I want to grow up already. Get over it, Sarah. Grow up.
Stop whining and start doing something. Stop failing so badly.

I tried to go to people I was supposed to meet about the room issue, and another lady who is too sweet for words told me that it didn't matter that I wasn't there, that it was mostly a warning (awfully big deal for a warning, huh?) to get us to clean up, and that she'd tell the other person I stopped by. It was very sweet of her, to the point where I almost cried as I descended the possibly-deadly slope back to my dorm. Now I have to email my Italian teacher, throw myself on her mercy, and hope she relents, somehow.
I feel so bad. The one class I felt I could guarantee has been jeopardized.

I'm so angry and upset right now.
All at myself, too. Who's fault is it? Yup, as always, yours truly.

If I ever get better at fixing my life, and moreover, my academics, I'm sure I'll be happy-as-a-clam Sarah again.
Till then, I'm going to try not to grumble and scowl too much (why should everyone else witness that if it's my fault, anyway?), and I'm going to continue to hope, pray, and actually try to fix things.
___________________________________________________________________

You know, I hate to admit it, because really, it's probably more trouble than it's worth, but the snow really does make everything look so pretty. Until you look down to see the slush. I am pondering this, and I'm sure there's some sort of symbolism to it. Everything has it's advantages and disadvantages, and if you look for either, you can find either. You can't ignore the mess that it makes, you can only make the best of it?
I don't know.

Despite the overabundance of slush in my life, those neatly trimmed trees and the snow-covered hills do add a breath of hope.

Accomplishments

I finished Jane Eyre today/yesterday (i.e. 3 hours ago).

And I played Free Rice until I met a newly formed goal:

"You have donated 10000 grains of rice.
Wow! Now THAT is impressive!"


Don't even ask about that paper....

• Slept through Italian today because I'm awesome like that.
• My printer is being rebellious, and I have not the knowledge to teach it a lesson (my sole idea involves a fork in an electrical outlet or something equally cruel, but, wouldn't you know it: all I have is plastic silverware; not to mention the damage I'd being doing to myself by doing so, either).
• Laura & I chatted about the dilemmas of men.
• I'm starving because the Bistro sucks.
• I spilled hot(or more accurately, mildly warm) chocolate on myself.
• I have no idea what I'd bring to people if I were Santa, especially in Spanish.
• Darfur is still happening, and my paper is still...well, not.
• I have agreed to go to Subway with someone whose company I probably won't enjoy.
• I do not know if this is the wrong decision; but it has been made.
• It is cold and snowing, and wintry (and not in the wonderland-like way)
• I complain too much perhaps.
• My arms are still throbbing from Thursday's workout. Still.
• I am not stressed out, and it makes me feel irresponsible to not be.

I'm a weird chick.
That is all.


PPS Jennifer Love Hewitt is not all that bad...I like how she thinks! "To all girls with butts, boobs, hips and a waist," she wrote, "put on a bikini put it on and stay strong."

400,000 dead and counting vs. a teddy bear?!?!

Perhaps it's callous and terrible of me to say so, but I'm getting a little frustrated with the amount of attention for the teacher who named that teddy bear "Muhammad." If you go to another country and plan to interact with the people there, you need to know what you're getting yourself into. You need to research the culture and the religion, specifically if the country's government is based on that religion. You need to be aware.

I read an article where it said that she thought it was okay because lots of people are named Muhammad. Ok, maybe that makes sense. It also said that's what the kids wanted to name it. Ok, I see rationale in that as well. However, does anyone else remember the incident with the cartoon of Muhammad? And all the chaos it caused? This notion of naming the bear should have evoked a HUGE red flag regarding that matter.

She screwed up big time, and it really sucks for her, but the latest sentencing I read was 15 days in jail and deportation. That is waaay better than her original sentence (up to 40 lashes, six months in prison and a fine), and better than the call for execution by some of the Sudanese people as well.
So, officials are still trying to sneak her out alive (legitimately, of course).


However, this genocide seems a lot more important to me. Perhaps I'm mistaken. However, the mild discomfort of one white woman in one situation which she got herself into hardly seems to take priority over hundreds of thousands of innocent people being brutally and injustly killed daily. It's been happening for over FIVE YEARS.



I'll stop now. I'm sorry. This just frustrates me. I hate that I can't even write a paper on it, not to mention do anything.

Just the right thing...

Have you ever come into contact with someone who can say just the right thing to cause you to fall apart? That happened to me today. I thought I had grown invincible, impermeable to this person, I had all my guards up. I was ready. However, the phone rang, and I saw this person's name just after I opened my phone to answer.
Sneak attack at its worst.
I was hostile and cold at first, it was easy.
Then, in passing, he mentioned something that hardly had to do with me at all, and the first tear rolled down my cheek. Funny, all day I had been musing over that fact that I had not cried over the end of things with us. And, really, that's not why I was crying at this point either. I've never tried to break contact with someone because we had a dysfunctional friendship (my personal term). I've never broken contact with someone like that before, at least not since I was old enough to remember. Especially someone I had originally spent so much time with, then all of a sudden, BOOM! none at all.
It was not even all that hard for me. Ignore phone calls, block on messenger, delete from facebook. Easy. I got along fine that way. Saw him in class, no big deal.
I would answer a call once in a while, long enough to see what he wanted, tell him things to make him stop calling, that's it.
Well, the problem at hand is this:
I don't know how long to break contact. At what point is it okay, healthy to start fresh, as friends, seeing each other only briefly? How long do you wait? Or is it a never thing? It sounds like he's learned his lesson; is that even possible?
Did we have anything before? Was it all a bunch of lies, infatuation, attraction, and nothing more? Those moments that seemed so special...how....why?

What is being in love anyway?

ugh.

Plus, I have yet to touch that freakin' paper.
This is not a good day. Tomorrow needs to be better.
It will be.


Oh, and another thing: Something I hate more than any other feeling in the world (almost, anyway) is feeling weak and helpless and confused, especially all at once. I hate feeling weak. I hate it so much. I love feeling like a strong, capable, confident woman; I love being that woman. I have felt like that woman for a while now, and all of a sudden, WHAM!, I fall apart from one harmless phone call.
*sigh*
Okay. Now it's back to being a writer...

Late Night Feed.

Last night was the Late Night Feed where we offer free hot dogs to anyone who wants them (mostly inebriated, poor college students).

Aside from the amusing stories about our "customers," I got a lot out of the night. I enjoyed the fellowship of the Canterbury Club, but more than that, I enjoyed that we were helping people. College kids don't typically get much sympathy or anything of that sort out of me. But, there were some people who came by and told us that it made their night, and that was so nice to hear!

It was amazing.

Now Darfur needs my attention...and everyone else's...