My love affair continues. We met last June, and I knew there was something special going on from the first moment. We've been together a year now (well, actually a year and 3 days), and the romance hasn't fizzled a bit.
That's right-- one year in Seattle already, and still, my obsession with this city has not worn off... in the least. I thought it would by this time, but I keep discovering more breath-taking and character-filled spots. And not just that, but I'm still caught off guard by the places I see every day.
How is it possible that I still squeal and yell, "I love this city!" when driving over the Ballard Bridge? I even catch myself off-guard with my Tourette-like reactions. I just can't help it when I see the ship yard and its mountainous backdrop on a sunny day.
Sometimes I start to think that I have a handle on a good majority of the cool spots in Seattle. Nope. They're endless. Last week I discovered a place that, upstairs, is a new and used bookstore and Greek restaurant and downstairs, a pub with a great selection of micro-brews, huge tables, and bookcases with help-yourself games and books. Hummus, books, beer, and Carcassonne all in one place? I must have died and gone to heaven.
Seattle keeps doing this to me! I think it can't get any better, and then it does. Over and over again.
Seattle,
It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you.
(There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do...)
Monday, August 30, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
More from Barb
I officially finished my intensive Greek course today, so I'm on a month-long break now... woo hoo!!!
I'm excited about my break for many reasons, and one of them is that I get to organize and de-clutter my room. (It clearly doesn't take much to excite me.)
So... I just saw The Poisonwood Bible sitting under my desk and remembered that I had a couple pages marked that I wanted to blog about. And even though I finished the book a while ago, and I don't really have any commentary or thoughts to add, I thought I'd share a couple of quotes. And, really, they're so beautiful that I think my commentary would only discredit them. So, here they are...
To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I've only known sorrow.
The power is in the balance: we are our injuries, as much as we are our successes.
Oh, man, Barbara... you are somehow profoundly inspirational and bitterly honest all at the same time. (Ok, maybe I did have a comment.)
I'm excited about my break for many reasons, and one of them is that I get to organize and de-clutter my room. (It clearly doesn't take much to excite me.)
So... I just saw The Poisonwood Bible sitting under my desk and remembered that I had a couple pages marked that I wanted to blog about. And even though I finished the book a while ago, and I don't really have any commentary or thoughts to add, I thought I'd share a couple of quotes. And, really, they're so beautiful that I think my commentary would only discredit them. So, here they are...
To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I've only known sorrow.
The power is in the balance: we are our injuries, as much as we are our successes.
Oh, man, Barbara... you are somehow profoundly inspirational and bitterly honest all at the same time. (Ok, maybe I did have a comment.)
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Ahh! The Irony of the Idealist!
My Myers-Briggs obsession has yet to subside. I'm currently reading a book called Please Understand Me II (this title cracks me up) by David Keirsey, and it's awesome. He suggests 4 personality groupings based on M-B letters. They are as follows:
Idealists often dedicate their lives to this kind of self-realization-- seeking to become realized, trying to get in touch with the person they were meant to be, and to have an identity that which is truly theirs... Idealists regard this search for identity as the most important enterprise in their lives... But even more mystifying is the paradox coiled at the very center of this search, namely, that the search for Self is fundamentally incompatible with the achievement of finding the Self. For many NFs the search for Self is a quest which becomes very much an end in itself, and which can come to dominate their lives. Thus, the Idealists' truest Self comes to be the Self in search of itself, or, in other words, their purpose in life becomes to have a purpose in life. But how can one achieve a goal when that goal is to have a goal? Intent on becoming themselves, Idealists can never truly be themselves, since the very act of reaching for the Self immediately puts it out of reach. In their enthusiasm for self-discovery, then, Idealists can become trapped in a paradox: they are themselves only if they are searching for themselves, and they would cease being themselves if they ever found themselves.
Ummm, I feel like someone should cue "Killing Me Softly" (the Fugees version), because Keirsey is telling my life with his words.
Also, I love the line "trapped in a paradox," because it reminds me of Austin Powers being trapped in a nutshell.
That is all. Sorry for once again taking everything back to Myers-Briggs; I have a problem.
- SPs-- Artisans
- SJs-- Guardians
- NFs-- Idealists
- NTs-- Rationals
Idealists often dedicate their lives to this kind of self-realization-- seeking to become realized, trying to get in touch with the person they were meant to be, and to have an identity that which is truly theirs... Idealists regard this search for identity as the most important enterprise in their lives... But even more mystifying is the paradox coiled at the very center of this search, namely, that the search for Self is fundamentally incompatible with the achievement of finding the Self. For many NFs the search for Self is a quest which becomes very much an end in itself, and which can come to dominate their lives. Thus, the Idealists' truest Self comes to be the Self in search of itself, or, in other words, their purpose in life becomes to have a purpose in life. But how can one achieve a goal when that goal is to have a goal? Intent on becoming themselves, Idealists can never truly be themselves, since the very act of reaching for the Self immediately puts it out of reach. In their enthusiasm for self-discovery, then, Idealists can become trapped in a paradox: they are themselves only if they are searching for themselves, and they would cease being themselves if they ever found themselves.
Ummm, I feel like someone should cue "Killing Me Softly" (the Fugees version), because Keirsey is telling my life with his words.
Also, I love the line "trapped in a paradox," because it reminds me of Austin Powers being trapped in a nutshell.
That is all. Sorry for once again taking everything back to Myers-Briggs; I have a problem.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Being Direct
Most of all I want to ask Anatole this one unaskable question: Does he hate me for being white?
Instead, I ask, "Why do Nkondo and Gabriel hate me?"
--Leah Price,
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
I'm much like Leah sometimes. I have questions I'm dying to ask but never do. I entertain thoughts and ideas that I want to share but just can't for some reason. I bite my tongue, and often I just twist it into another form that can ask a different question-- one that might hint at my real query but has no actual potential for unleashing the conversation I'm seeking. Sometimes I'm so concerned about keeping the peace that I lose myself in the process, and that just doesn't seem like a good thing for anybody.
I wonder if the questions I place in the unaskable box should really be there. I'm starting to think that it may be better to bring up some of those bothersome and awkward conversations than it is to leave them alone. But really, it's less about bringing things up and more about how to respond to what others bring up. I'm realizing it's better to give a direct answer when someone asks a question than to avoid saying what I'm really thinking.
In short, I'm learning how to be more direct. I've even practiced it a few times recently! I appreciate when people are direct with me, and I think it says a lot about a person's character when one is bold enough to say the slightly uncomfortable-- but honest-- thing. I think it's one reason I love kids so much. There is something profoundly beautiful about their undecorated honesty. Perhaps this is one of the implications when Jesus says that the Kingdom belongs to little children?
I'm not talking about aggressiveness here or crass honesty that cuts other people down. I'm talking about being true to myself, being realistic about what I'm thinking and feeling, and respecting the people around me enough to convey those things when necessary. Little is more frustrating than people who dance around their conversations, using a lot of words but really saying a lot of nothing.
But it's also important to know when to keep your mouth shut. (And it's worth mentioning that I don't consider this is the antithesis of being direct.) Sometimes when I want to say something to someone that I'm not sure about yet (especially if I recognize that I'm being exceptionally emotional), I'll write that person an email and let it sit in my draft folder. I've even written a letter or two that I figured I would probably never send. There is something cathartic about just putting the words down, even if the "recipient" never actually hears them or sees them. And more often than not, I feel silly when I re-read what I wrote in a moment of anger, self-pity, or irritation. That's when I know my email was better suited for my draft folder than it was for someone else's inbox.
So, I guess what I'm getting at is this: I think it's always good to be honest, and I would even say it's always good to be direct, but maybe that honesty and directness will take different forms that must be discerned on a case-by-case basis.
I think that's what I'm concluding, but I'm still hammering this out in my mind. (And, no, this is not an example of indirectness, but rather, of the rambling indecisiveness that is forever a part of me... and that's me being honest.)
Instead, I ask, "Why do Nkondo and Gabriel hate me?"
--Leah Price,
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
I'm much like Leah sometimes. I have questions I'm dying to ask but never do. I entertain thoughts and ideas that I want to share but just can't for some reason. I bite my tongue, and often I just twist it into another form that can ask a different question-- one that might hint at my real query but has no actual potential for unleashing the conversation I'm seeking. Sometimes I'm so concerned about keeping the peace that I lose myself in the process, and that just doesn't seem like a good thing for anybody.
I wonder if the questions I place in the unaskable box should really be there. I'm starting to think that it may be better to bring up some of those bothersome and awkward conversations than it is to leave them alone. But really, it's less about bringing things up and more about how to respond to what others bring up. I'm realizing it's better to give a direct answer when someone asks a question than to avoid saying what I'm really thinking.
In short, I'm learning how to be more direct. I've even practiced it a few times recently! I appreciate when people are direct with me, and I think it says a lot about a person's character when one is bold enough to say the slightly uncomfortable-- but honest-- thing. I think it's one reason I love kids so much. There is something profoundly beautiful about their undecorated honesty. Perhaps this is one of the implications when Jesus says that the Kingdom belongs to little children?
I'm not talking about aggressiveness here or crass honesty that cuts other people down. I'm talking about being true to myself, being realistic about what I'm thinking and feeling, and respecting the people around me enough to convey those things when necessary. Little is more frustrating than people who dance around their conversations, using a lot of words but really saying a lot of nothing.
But it's also important to know when to keep your mouth shut. (And it's worth mentioning that I don't consider this is the antithesis of being direct.) Sometimes when I want to say something to someone that I'm not sure about yet (especially if I recognize that I'm being exceptionally emotional), I'll write that person an email and let it sit in my draft folder. I've even written a letter or two that I figured I would probably never send. There is something cathartic about just putting the words down, even if the "recipient" never actually hears them or sees them. And more often than not, I feel silly when I re-read what I wrote in a moment of anger, self-pity, or irritation. That's when I know my email was better suited for my draft folder than it was for someone else's inbox.
So, I guess what I'm getting at is this: I think it's always good to be honest, and I would even say it's always good to be direct, but maybe that honesty and directness will take different forms that must be discerned on a case-by-case basis.
I think that's what I'm concluding, but I'm still hammering this out in my mind. (And, no, this is not an example of indirectness, but rather, of the rambling indecisiveness that is forever a part of me... and that's me being honest.)
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Augusts
I can't believe it's already August. August 11th, at that. This August is different than many of the Augusts I've experienced, especially those of the past two years. For me, August has been the time of many transitions, hellos and goodbyes, new beginnings.
6 Augusts ago (2004), I was making my first big move-- from Knoxville, TN to Columbia, SC-- to begin college. I was yearning for independence and beginning a pattern of change that has yet to stop.
The next three Augusts weren't quite as exciting, but still brought at least a little change, mainly just moving between dorms, apartments, and a rental house.
But the past two Augusts have been huge for me, defining points in my life, I'd say.
Two years ago around this time, I graduated from college and said goodbye to Young Life, my sorority, and math (which I wasn't so sad about). Three days after graduation, I boarded a plane for Galati, Romania, to join a servant team with Word Made Flesh for four months, where I met some of the most remarkable people I have ever known and found my heart in a way I never could have anticipated.
And just a year ago, I left Columbia for good. I loaded up my car and road-tripped across the country with my friend Kelli. I ended the trip-- and stayed-- in Seattle and started a divinity program... something I never planned on doing.
And now it's August again. I'm still in Seattle, still working on my Masters, and still living in the apartment I moved into a year ago. This is the first August in 6 years that I haven't at least moved boxes into a new place.
No move, no big change, no transition. And it feels good. I like this August. Its changelessness is comforting, yet still dynamic and alive. It doesn't feel stale or dead; it just feels right. I like where I am, and although I doubt this will be my last stop, it's a good stop, and I'm thankful to be here.
6 Augusts ago (2004), I was making my first big move-- from Knoxville, TN to Columbia, SC-- to begin college. I was yearning for independence and beginning a pattern of change that has yet to stop.
The next three Augusts weren't quite as exciting, but still brought at least a little change, mainly just moving between dorms, apartments, and a rental house.
But the past two Augusts have been huge for me, defining points in my life, I'd say.
Two years ago around this time, I graduated from college and said goodbye to Young Life, my sorority, and math (which I wasn't so sad about). Three days after graduation, I boarded a plane for Galati, Romania, to join a servant team with Word Made Flesh for four months, where I met some of the most remarkable people I have ever known and found my heart in a way I never could have anticipated.
And just a year ago, I left Columbia for good. I loaded up my car and road-tripped across the country with my friend Kelli. I ended the trip-- and stayed-- in Seattle and started a divinity program... something I never planned on doing.
And now it's August again. I'm still in Seattle, still working on my Masters, and still living in the apartment I moved into a year ago. This is the first August in 6 years that I haven't at least moved boxes into a new place.
No move, no big change, no transition. And it feels good. I like this August. Its changelessness is comforting, yet still dynamic and alive. It doesn't feel stale or dead; it just feels right. I like where I am, and although I doubt this will be my last stop, it's a good stop, and I'm thankful to be here.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
A comedic, tragic world
"The world is a comedy to those that think; a tragedy to those that feel." --Horace Walpole
I think about this quote a lot, and most days I resonate more with the latter than the former. But today the world is comedic to me. I feel like I've been reading and hearing and seeing things today that are absurd, and all I can do is laugh.
Things like people being ridiculous on Facebook. Sometimes my minifeed makes me want to give up all hope for humanity, but today I'm laughing about it. It's incredible to me the things people put out there for all the world to see.
Another one: Wyclef Jean is running for president in Haiti. Seriously??
Oh, world, you are truly hilarious. But I may very well be crying over you tomorrow.
I think about this quote a lot, and most days I resonate more with the latter than the former. But today the world is comedic to me. I feel like I've been reading and hearing and seeing things today that are absurd, and all I can do is laugh.
Things like people being ridiculous on Facebook. Sometimes my minifeed makes me want to give up all hope for humanity, but today I'm laughing about it. It's incredible to me the things people put out there for all the world to see.
Another one: Wyclef Jean is running for president in Haiti. Seriously??
Oh, world, you are truly hilarious. But I may very well be crying over you tomorrow.
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