This has been a crazy, crazy, crazy semester.
I think my emotions have been just one big roller coaster for the past couple of weeks. Everything was cranked from 0-100 mph in a very short amount of time, and the skid marks on my brain are evidence that I did not speed up accordingly. There have been times I think that I just want to leave everything and everyone that I love, and just ride on a escalator that neither goes up or down, just glides past the shambles that I fondly refer to as "my life". This desire to run away from everything is a coping mechanism, and it is also like a weird rash. It flares up every once in a while, but when it does it always feels like the first time.
But God....has been so faithful. I have felt the weight of my sins so heavily, to the point of weariness when I think about the consequences of my actions, or lack thereof. The point of reconciliation for many of the hurts that I have caused people has passed. The point of repair of the many transgressions that I have committed has long since expired. I am left with the rotten peels of these wrongdoings. I feel completely disjointed from everything I believe, and the little light in my heart dims almost to extinction.... But then there is always an instance, perhaps in the form of a kind word, a nice email, a good grade, or even sand in a bottle....God always sends little messages that remind me that this, along with everything in life, shall pass. He always picks me back up again, filling me with less of a spiritual high and more of an unspeakable joy that penetrates deeper and deeper into my heart's core with the passing of every situation. The deeper those roots, the closer I feel to God...and that is why I rejoice in the hard times.
Right now I'm more tired than I can remember ever being. I have had assignment after assignment, test after test, nonstop for over a week now. I have not slept in my bed in a couple of days. I am pulling through to the last minute, and although it is hard, I see that God keeps steering me back to the right place, directing me like a blindfolded child back to a spiritual Pinata. His glory will totally be shown in the end, and all I can say that I was privileged to witness it. I can't wait to sleep tomorrow night, but until that time comes, I will rest in Him. When I was in Uganda and I wanted to wake up early to do my quiet times, I found myself always repeating "I don't need sleep...I need Jesus." As extreme as that is, I think I need to adopt that stance again. When the rug of physical comforts is yanked out from under my feet, it is those times that I can see clearly where my strength lies.
Yesu Opaki forever.
*When I got tired of running from you
I stopped right there to catch my breath
There your words they caught my ears
You said, "I miss you son. Come home"
And my sins, they watched me leave
And in my heart I so believed
The love you felt for me was more than
The love I'd wished for all this time
And when the doors were closed
I heard no I told so's
I said the words I knew you knew
Oh God, Oh God I needed you
God all this time I needed you
I needed you...*
~Relient K
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
A Stunning Revelation....or Not
I can't dance.
It is painful for me to type this, but I realize that I need to come to grips with my shortcomings. Seriously though, there is something that is disconnected between my brain and the rest of my body whenever some sort of rhythmic, vibing, pulsating beat hits my eardrums. This affliction is not a new discovery, I am just woman enough to admit it, now.
When I was a young girl, I remember when all of my grandmother's grandchildren used to dance to the songs at the end of Disney movies, like "Beauty and the Beast" at the end of Beauty and the Beast, or "Under the Sea" at the end of The Little Mermaid. Now during the latter song, the Bajan in all of the grandchildren would stir up inside and there would be a little reggae party up in there. I remember something stirring inside my soul, too, and before I would know it, my arms would flail everywhere, my feet would make random kicks, and I would put forth my best effort to make poetry of the body. All I remember is that after a while, my cousins did not want to dance with me anymore--and I don't blame them. It was totally the David Brent Charity Dance, 5-year-old style. My dancing routine became lethal, and I eventually had to retire it.
Now I sit here, after going on a missions trip, where we performed many, many routines in Uganda and Kenya. The stunning revelation was this: people totally did not care about my proficiency of dancing, whether I could keep the beat or not, or whether I looked good doing it. That was really refreshing to see. I gave my best there, and that was really all that mattered in the end.
Well, I have decided that I am not a great dancer, but I am fairly decent. Enough to fool people when I am standing on the side of a dark room, and people's vision is already distracted by seizure-inducing bright strobe lights. I am completely all right with not ever being good enough to be the next Harajuku girl--although I am willing to still submit the application, hoping that that the whole not-being-Japanese thing doesn't get in the way. Who knows? Maybe I'll be the next star on the upcoming Fox Reality Show "So You Think You Can Dance...But the Mirror Suggests Otherwise" (Thursdays this Fall). I'll let you know....
Until then, this is Tamara, mediocre dancer, disgrace to her parents and her heritage (and proud of it), over and out.
"Bust a move."
~Young MC
It is painful for me to type this, but I realize that I need to come to grips with my shortcomings. Seriously though, there is something that is disconnected between my brain and the rest of my body whenever some sort of rhythmic, vibing, pulsating beat hits my eardrums. This affliction is not a new discovery, I am just woman enough to admit it, now.
When I was a young girl, I remember when all of my grandmother's grandchildren used to dance to the songs at the end of Disney movies, like "Beauty and the Beast" at the end of Beauty and the Beast, or "Under the Sea" at the end of The Little Mermaid. Now during the latter song, the Bajan in all of the grandchildren would stir up inside and there would be a little reggae party up in there. I remember something stirring inside my soul, too, and before I would know it, my arms would flail everywhere, my feet would make random kicks, and I would put forth my best effort to make poetry of the body. All I remember is that after a while, my cousins did not want to dance with me anymore--and I don't blame them. It was totally the David Brent Charity Dance, 5-year-old style. My dancing routine became lethal, and I eventually had to retire it.
Now I sit here, after going on a missions trip, where we performed many, many routines in Uganda and Kenya. The stunning revelation was this: people totally did not care about my proficiency of dancing, whether I could keep the beat or not, or whether I looked good doing it. That was really refreshing to see. I gave my best there, and that was really all that mattered in the end.
Well, I have decided that I am not a great dancer, but I am fairly decent. Enough to fool people when I am standing on the side of a dark room, and people's vision is already distracted by seizure-inducing bright strobe lights. I am completely all right with not ever being good enough to be the next Harajuku girl--although I am willing to still submit the application, hoping that that the whole not-being-Japanese thing doesn't get in the way. Who knows? Maybe I'll be the next star on the upcoming Fox Reality Show "So You Think You Can Dance...But the Mirror Suggests Otherwise" (Thursdays this Fall). I'll let you know....
Until then, this is Tamara, mediocre dancer, disgrace to her parents and her heritage (and proud of it), over and out.
"Bust a move."
~Young MC
What Kind of Love: An Ode to Facebook
I remember when we were introduced
Through mutual friends
I
heard about you
They said we would go great together
so I tried
I couldn't deny the power
of your simple design
As weeks flew by
I began to wonder
How life dared moved on
before we met
I remember the flutter in my heart
When I saw that you'd wrote
And I opened the blue-lettered messages
I could not understand the feeling inside
but I knew it was right
When I went to college I realized that our relationship
would change
not sure how
but now I know
it was only for the better
and yet
something told me you'd change
little hints you throw
every guard you'd drop
the warning signs so clear
When you started to get caught up in the buzz
feeding me news of friends that I cared little about
Realizing that you spent so much time
Biding the times of others
I was suspect
But I relented
Feeling guilty,
I repented
of my doubting stance
And we were cool
Until now
once again, you reformed
Broke the norm
The uproar
about your tabbed makeover
I have to agree
Trading in organized simplicity
for beta trends
I am ashamed
you conformed
But through this rebuke
I will say
I'll get used to you
one day
you won't care what others say is best
you will be the usual
one I grew to love
but for now
our status
is not love
just tolerance.
Through mutual friends
I
heard about you
They said we would go great together
so I tried
I couldn't deny the power
of your simple design
As weeks flew by
I began to wonder
How life dared moved on
before we met
I remember the flutter in my heart
When I saw that you'd wrote
And I opened the blue-lettered messages
I could not understand the feeling inside
but I knew it was right
When I went to college I realized that our relationship
would change
not sure how
but now I know
it was only for the better
and yet
something told me you'd change
little hints you throw
every guard you'd drop
the warning signs so clear
When you started to get caught up in the buzz
feeding me news of friends that I cared little about
Realizing that you spent so much time
Biding the times of others
I was suspect
But I relented
Feeling guilty,
I repented
of my doubting stance
And we were cool
Until now
once again, you reformed
Broke the norm
The uproar
about your tabbed makeover
I have to agree
Trading in organized simplicity
for beta trends
I am ashamed
you conformed
But through this rebuke
I will say
I'll get used to you
one day
you won't care what others say is best
you will be the usual
one I grew to love
but for now
our status
is not love
just tolerance.
Fashion Shows, and Why I Suck at Them
I have decided that I am not and never will be a good judge of fashion. Shows such as Project Runway have proven this to me. These shows, therefore, will never pique my interest. Not because I am a tomboy or anything....I used to be, but I have become more girlie as the years go on. And it's not because I don't enjoy watching a bunch of gay guys and girls have cat fights with each other--I mean, who doesn't? Maybe it's because I think that anything the aspiring designers design is quite literally the fugliest thing that could have ever been created, and it boggles my mind when "experts" state otherwise.
You see, when I watch another show like American Idol, I can hear if the person is off-key or not. On America's Next Top Model, I can see if it's a bad picture or not. During the judges' deliberation on the above shows, my usual dialogue with the TV goes something like this (and yes, I do talk back to the TV):
Tams: Wow that guy was amazing! Did you hear his amazing rendition of [insert obscure 80's song here]? I almost cried....surely Simon did, too.
Randy: Yo dawg, a little pitchy for me, but that a'ight dog.
Paula: That...was...ugh...you...are...I...can't....believe...chills.
Simon: Ahbsolootely pathetic. The woost performance of the night.
Tams: Yeah, I mean it was OK, but he totally screwed up that last line. I totally heard it and I was totally going to say that, before the judges, who did not skew my previous views at all...yeah.
And this is me when I watch highly specialized shows like Project Runway:
Tams: Dang....that dress is pretty ugly.
Heidi: Your style, your fashion really shown through in this round. You will go far.
Obscure gay dude: Mmm hmm. Tell it girlfriend.
Random fashion has-been: I am going to give my opinion as though it ever mattered when I was in Vogue 20 years ago, so I can pretend that it matters now. I completely agree with Heidi.
Tams: Dang....that dress is pretty ugly.
To all of the people out there who can watch these shows such as Project Runway or even cooking shows on Food Network (which deserves a post all on its own), I commend you. Teach me your ways. But for now, I am perfectly satisfied with country bumpkins who might be the next 15-minute-famer for the next two years, or pretty-faced tall women who girl fight for 13 episodes for the coveted role in a 20-second Covergirl ad, never to be seen again.
Now that's quality television.
You see, when I watch another show like American Idol, I can hear if the person is off-key or not. On America's Next Top Model, I can see if it's a bad picture or not. During the judges' deliberation on the above shows, my usual dialogue with the TV goes something like this (and yes, I do talk back to the TV):
Tams: Wow that guy was amazing! Did you hear his amazing rendition of [insert obscure 80's song here]? I almost cried....surely Simon did, too.
Randy: Yo dawg, a little pitchy for me, but that a'ight dog.
Paula: That...was...ugh...you...are...I...can't....believe...chills.
Simon: Ahbsolootely pathetic. The woost performance of the night.
Tams: Yeah, I mean it was OK, but he totally screwed up that last line. I totally heard it and I was totally going to say that, before the judges, who did not skew my previous views at all...yeah.
And this is me when I watch highly specialized shows like Project Runway:
Tams: Dang....that dress is pretty ugly.
Heidi: Your style, your fashion really shown through in this round. You will go far.
Obscure gay dude: Mmm hmm. Tell it girlfriend.
Random fashion has-been: I am going to give my opinion as though it ever mattered when I was in Vogue 20 years ago, so I can pretend that it matters now. I completely agree with Heidi.
Tams: Dang....that dress is pretty ugly.
To all of the people out there who can watch these shows such as Project Runway or even cooking shows on Food Network (which deserves a post all on its own), I commend you. Teach me your ways. But for now, I am perfectly satisfied with country bumpkins who might be the next 15-minute-famer for the next two years, or pretty-faced tall women who girl fight for 13 episodes for the coveted role in a 20-second Covergirl ad, never to be seen again.
Now that's quality television.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Potentially the Second Worst Week of my Life
If I were to base the awesome-meter of my life on pure circumstance, this week would definitely err towards the side of "craptastic", and this is why:
--I am currently on crutches, all due to a freak jump rope accident. That's right, jump rope (Hi, my name is Tamara Johnson, and I am 5 years old). The way that I landed on the ground had me sprain my knee really badly, and it has not healed. I have had a hard time getting from class to class, deciding not to go to the majority of them because the little time that I have in between classes would put too much strain on my knee. This is the first major injury that I have ever sustained...disregarding that time when I squeezed my thumb in the car door, and my thumbnail literally fell off of my skin after a few months (do write if you'd like even more gooey details). I have been struggling, being made even more aware of my handicap with each step that I take.
--I have 3 tests this week, my first test week since Spring semester. I had one on Wednesday that I wish went a lot better than it did, and I have two tests tomorrow. On top of that I have my first major lab report for Synthesis Lab due this week. My motivation to do anything (including study) is zero, and it shows.
--I have a cold.
--I have a toothache.
--My hamster Squeakers died.
OK, the last one is a lie, but everything else is really going on in my life. So why do I feel so semi-joyful? Why, in the midst of chaos, do I feel somewhat numb, even happy-ish? Well, I will list all of the reasons....tomorrow. When I have finished my tests.
In the meanwhile, I hope your day is going swimmingly. I have a new number now, so if you did not get the memo message me so that I can give it to you.
To be continued.
--I am currently on crutches, all due to a freak jump rope accident. That's right, jump rope (Hi, my name is Tamara Johnson, and I am 5 years old). The way that I landed on the ground had me sprain my knee really badly, and it has not healed. I have had a hard time getting from class to class, deciding not to go to the majority of them because the little time that I have in between classes would put too much strain on my knee. This is the first major injury that I have ever sustained...disregarding that time when I squeezed my thumb in the car door, and my thumbnail literally fell off of my skin after a few months (do write if you'd like even more gooey details). I have been struggling, being made even more aware of my handicap with each step that I take.
--I have 3 tests this week, my first test week since Spring semester. I had one on Wednesday that I wish went a lot better than it did, and I have two tests tomorrow. On top of that I have my first major lab report for Synthesis Lab due this week. My motivation to do anything (including study) is zero, and it shows.
--I have a cold.
--I have a toothache.
--My hamster Squeakers died.
OK, the last one is a lie, but everything else is really going on in my life. So why do I feel so semi-joyful? Why, in the midst of chaos, do I feel somewhat numb, even happy-ish? Well, I will list all of the reasons....tomorrow. When I have finished my tests.
In the meanwhile, I hope your day is going swimmingly. I have a new number now, so if you did not get the memo message me so that I can give it to you.
To be continued.
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