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| Reflection. My first year of college is over and now I will reflect. I cannot shake my high-school habit of analyzing my topics key word so without further a due: reflection in the most literal sense means to "throw or bend back such as light" and in a more literary (what Im doing right now) sense "to think seriously." And my same habit also includes a self-made definition of my findings: this reflection is not a mirror image of the events that took place during the course of my first year in college but rather my "bent" perceptions. So all that to say imagine you're standing on a dock of a beautiful lake somewhere in the mountains; the reflection in the water doesn't do justice to the surrounding landscape. This is the lake version.
You think you know, but you don't. That sums up my first year and probably future ones. I wouldn't say that I didn't have a clue, but I sure didn't have any idea. I was off to a good start with the roommate situation. I decided to go pot-luck even though I heard tale after tale of horror stories. (Im sure you've heard plenty of those roommate from hell stories, but have you ever wondered if the person telling you their story might have been a pointy-tailed-pitch-fork-carrying roommate too?) But God answers prayer and Maggie and I were each others perfect compliment. Aww how sweet. Through and through having a good roommate surely enhanced my first year experience.
I now have a better picture as to how ridiculously important first impressions are! Sometimes my timidity and uncertainty comes off as pride or arrogance. In simplest terms I play a strong defense and it takes a bit to get past it to realize I'm easy going and mellow. But don't forget I like to party and by party I mean dance and by dance I mean shake it like a salt shaker. Like the lake reflection ripples and flows at will, so do my thoughts - hang tight.
Boys. The topic that is most hated, loved, exhausted, feared, anticipated, welcome, unwelcome, enjoyed... you get the picture. If I could calculate the time spent discussing the male gender during just two semesters it would be enough time to walk from LA to New York twice and then back to Tulsa to make the conclusion that conversations among the chicas need a priority overhaul. In case you hadn't realized it for yourself, know this: single life is the way to go - at least for me. I love it folks. No I do not want to date, if I do I will let you know. That sounds like a sassy bumper sticker or a t-shirt.
Hello My Name is... The Biggest ORU Skeptic And Critic! UNTIL a little worship project produced by my school called Extraordinary. One of the few times I actually wrote on my xanga this year was about how much I loved ORU and it was right after the recording of this worship project when I realized how amazing it is to attend an institution so immersed in Jesus! Pre-ORU I was very skeptical and full of preconceived ideas and I am very glad to say my attitude and opinions have completely shifted. Life lesson: there will always be crap, get over it! Dont dwell on it if life gives you crap, throw it back! Besides, its the tough and unfair crap that makes life life. If you're looking for the perfect university it isn't Oral Roberts so either get in or get out. I like the ORU bubble. It's the best bubble to be in because it full of the most amazing people I have ever met. No lie. Apart from Jesus, reason number two why ORU is good for the soul: the people.
There and many more things that I have discovered and I have only shared just a few but I hate writing. I really do, but I think its important to document thoughts and feelings at least once a year. I'm halfway kidding. Anyway, the main reason I wrote this is because I have friends who inspire me to become someone greater. Two of my best friends, Hannah and Lindsay, have been utterly incredible this past year. Experiencing my first year in college was painful, but I was fortunate to already have close friends to help mend me. This would be a good place for a friendship quote but I'll try my own words first: To my closest friends, I thank God that you have been placed in my life. Come sit on the dock and enjoy the beauty of what God has put before us - together. Yah it was a little cheesy, but know that it's true | | |
| im stealing ryan's idea...
so i googled my name and these are the top results:
1) witch doctor from NH who specializes is past life regression, power animal retrieval, and tarot counseling
2) GCS See you at the pole -its actually me!!
3) Lab instructor at C.E. Schmidt College of Science
4) The ladies captain at Lydd Golf Club
5) Ezekiel's current wife, she tried to have him "accidentally" killed during an arranged "kidnapping". - not really sure what thats about
6) Team Knuckelhead kickball captain
as far as images go one of my pieces from tulsa state fair came up but the link was bad, oh well. | | |
| so i've been thinking... yes i know, actually thinking... that everyday we make choices, whether they are small, medium, or ridiculously big, we make choices. and in my life, im not certain about yours, but in mine i know the right choice to make about 92% of the time. but why do i only choose the right decision maybe half of the time? if i KNOW the right thing to do, then why dont i DO it? oh paul you are so wise...
I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn't that the real question? The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different. romans 7:24-25 | | |
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I heart Christmas!! | | |
| wow mark steel's blog is incredible... (flashbangbook)
RENT THIS EXPERIENCE
I couldn’t name all of the Supreme Court Justices if I was being dangled naked over a pit of cybot piranha. Those names, along with a thousand other supposedly important facts I learned in college, are literally nowhere in my subconscious. They eased in one ear, came out the end of my #2 pencil, and remained forever on the examination page.
Let’s face it: who truly needs to be aware of the hypotenuse? Who gives a rip what the Medici family did or paid for? I do not daily interface with cumulonimbus clouds, iambic pentameter, and Corinthian columns. I did not, do not, and never will live in the Pleistocene era and sincerely doubt it will show up on a job application. For these and a myriad of other reasons, I have not retained the education.
But, oh, do I remember the first time I heard the haunting strains of the chamber orchestra coda to “All I Want is You” while flying over San Francisco Bay on the way back from break with my college friends. I remember which roommate wept, seated to my left when the bomber flew over a young Christian Bale’s head in “Empire of the Sun.” I remember who I was shelving rental videos with when I first heard Stewart Copeland’s improvised percussion throughout “Red Rain.” Who I sat next to in the theatre when Robin Williams urged “carpe diem.” The exact place I stood in Mexico when I heard that Randy Stonehill song. The mile markers of road trips and extraordinary days and devastating moments that played out in rhythm with the original soundtracks and motion pictures of my college experience.
Pop art has a way of cementing details. A method of internal time capsule. Admittedly, the years in question in which I attended college (the above references should be a clue) were marked more by their lack of decent music. These were the four years of radio wilderness in-between Joshua Tree and Nevermind. These were the years of the Tiffanys and Debbies, hanging tough and growing mullets. Nonetheless, it was the musical score that, to this day, triggers a memory about a person I had long forgotten.
This is, of course, the saddest and most shocking realization of all. That the song comes back so easily, but not quite the faces that listened alongside me. I remember the life on the screen faster and more accurately than the life lived in the room next door. The college experience became marked and defined more by others lyrics and screenplays than my own. Even now, I consider the moments that I knew someone next to me – in my class, my dorm, my room – was hurting. But, instead of turning to face them, we both faced the music and let it define our pain.
Certainly the purpose of art is catharsis: to allow us to live vicariously through its pro- and antagonists. That we might learn something – live something – without actually having to go there ourselves. But, art – even pop art music and film – were never intended to replace. They were intended to provoke.
I have chosen to follow Jesus with my life. If I am going to pay attention to His teachings, this should make me a feeler. As in, I am supposed to empathize with and love others. Therefore, I must give myself over to some level of feeling. In my college years, I understood this and I attempted this. But, I quickly discovered that it was uncomfortable to go that deep. It was vulnerable and unsightly. It made me feel raw and unprotected. So, more often than not, I hesitated: feeling less with real life and feeling more with the emotions spoon-fed to me by mass-media outlets.
In the process, my college experience – no, my life experience – was at times real and at other times rented. The years of my life where I could afford to risk the most – adventure the most – befriend the most – feel the most – were being lived in hand-me-downs.
That passion was Adrian Cronauer’s passion.
That unforgettable fire was Paul Hewson’s fire.
That mission was John Dunbar’s mission.
That Savior was Rich Mullins’ Savior.
I was certainly feeling. But, the feeling was as detached from my own reality as possible.
Many years and many feelings later, I have learned to engage with the world around me. I have learned that a life in pursuit of Christ is a paradox if it is only lived through headphones. I must feel for the people – with the people – right next to the people. I must risk uneasiness and pain for the vulnerability of turning away from the iPod and into the eyes of the individual in the adjacent seat.
For every beautiful moment with another human being that I experienced during my college journey, there were another two potential moments I allowed to slip away. It is only now, in retrospect, that I realize how available I was. How primed I was in those few years to truly engage, listen, and affect.
I continue to be inspired by the words, tunes, and images art urges toward me. But, I do not allow them to exist in my stead. Now, I keep my eyes and ears attuned in all directions – looking for the ones who need a steady gaze to make their hurts known and make their healing personal. I continue to be moved by the pop that plays about me – but now – that passion, that fire, that mission, that Savior – are my own.
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