--Still trying, a bit unsuccessfully, to find Orlando theatre I'm interested in... um... is it sad that the only play I really want to see is the 40-minute Finding Nemo in Animal Kingdom?!

--My nose is pierced, and there are gross pictures of the process. Now I'm praying it doesn't get infected; I religiously clean it. I want a hole in my nose forever.

--I just--like just now-- got some bad news; so pray for me.

into:

art deco

this verse-- For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us so that whether we are awake or asleep we might live with Him. 1 Thessalonians 5:9-10... snicker if you will, faith in Jesus is what is keeping me from going crazy wondering what the heck is going to happen to me in seven weeks.

Thai (the food, the language, the prospect of taking a couple of classes at Payap University in Chiang Mai... jealous much? Yes, yes, you are!)

canoeing (but not so much steering)

my housemates... these girls are golden!

living life to the fullest!

Updates from the Field

Did you know that there is a Rosalind Avenue in Orlando? Well, there is. I think of Shakespeare approximately twice every day here.

It is also part-time-monsoon season here.

And the for-real part of my internship is starting tomorrow... no more team-building exercises that leave you soaking wet, no more trips to theme-parks that result in meeting lots of international new friends... just, no more. But the exciting part is that the for-real part of my internship is starting. And the exciting-verging-on-terrifying part is that in nine weeks, I'll be somewhere that is heretofore unknown. It's like God's keeping secrets from me, but in a good way.

Did you know that Hershey's now makes 60-calorie dark chocolate sticks that, like Mary Poppins, are practically perfect in every way?

Just sayin'.

I also wanted to clarify what I said earlier about doubt. Full-on, inhibiting doubt should never be a destination because that's not healthy for my soul and it doesn't glorify God, but I don't think there's any shame in having some doubt in transit.

My brother, who is reading over my shoulder, wants me to "put in some kind words" about him. So here goes. I am so proud of this kid: he's a musical genius, a scathing critic, a high school graduate. He's come so far from the silent muse with melted chocolate for eyes, so far from the holy terror, so far from everything he's been. He touches my heart and makes me laugh every time I see him. Even if he makes me laugh because he whispers that I smell like livestock or something else that's just blatantly socially unacceptable. I wouldn't laugh if anybody else in the world told me I smelled "like cattle, like horse poo," as John once did.

I'm going to be making at least one major move soon, but I can tell you now that looking for a new church is going to be excruciating. I have so many ties to this one. These people have loved me through many heinous haircuts and bad attitudes. AND... AND... my pastor introduced me to this youtube video:



I love this song. Usually I don't love reinterpretations of The Beatles. Sometimes I like reinterpretations of The Beatles, because good songs can stand good covers. But usually the covers are not good. (The Jonas Brothers singing Hello Goodbye for Target commercials? I was nauseated for a month. It was like being pregnant without the excuse to eat for two.)And I'd imagine it'd be even harder to cover a Beatles tune that Eric Clapton played lead guitar for... but I like this, nonetheless.

a. The only reading I've been able to do:
William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury. No, I had never read it. I agree, I really wasn't a Southerner all those years. It's perfectly, hopelessly flawed: one of those stirring novels that says a thousand things in a thousand different ways, but when it is coherent, it is heartbreakingly so. I loved it. Oprah loved it in 2005. The sticker on the front said so.

G.K. Chesterton's The Four Faultless Felons. Now, I really like a lot of G.K. Chesterton's writings, because he's really fat and happy*, but these brief, related novellas were some exceptions. There was a lot of anti-Semitic rhetoric and characterizations throughout the stories that weren't relevant and were really disheartening. I haven't noticed this in my preferred Chesterton offerings but it might color my rereadings of those books (Orthodoxy, The Paradoxes of Mr. Pond, The Man Who Was Thursday).

*read: the anti-Dostoevsky. You can't subsist on Fyodor alone. That is, I can't. I love him, but sometimes I need a break.

And I picked up this Bible study on faith. I'll have to look up its name because it has some pretty dap quotes from Flannery O'Connor and a lot of ideas that I agree with, such as the Descartian idea that doubt is part of any journey of faith, and some ideas that took me aback, but in a good way.

b. Public service announcement: Starbucks is offering 1.95$ grande iced coffees with milk through June! See? Such expressions of benevolence can't be from a corporate monster! (Although I do miss that cash-only-please coffee place on Main with the generous espresso artist.) My sister and I took advantage of the special the other day. Fact I found out in the course of drinking our caramel, skim milk iced coffees: she considers coffee shops to be perfect date destinations. (Incidental fact: I do, too. Actually, though, I'll get coffee with anyone for any occasion at all...)

c. I miss downtowns.

thoughts on magna cum laude

How could I get this old so fast? Time seems to get wasted like a prospective playing Circle of Death.

I mean, it's cool. I'm ready for the new... for brand-new chances to collaborate and fall in love and write. I'd like to move on to the new sprinklers that I can dance in at night. I hope Orlando has a lot of those.

I think that a lot of my friends and my professors and I would agree that I need a big challenge and a big move... something big to help me grow even more. I'd like to experiment with translation and formally seek God and further Christian training and work in emerging, workshop collaboratives and listen to jazz all the time... and now I can!

But the leaving will always be leaving... and leaving, for me, has always been hard. Some goodbyes were easier than I thought they'd be, and others were every bit as difficult as I'd feared.

But I'm excited.

Thank you, my friends. I know you've always believed the best of me, and, I promise, I have and will continue to believe the best of you.

Here's to the wild successes and the wild failures on the horizon.

Here's to all the mistakes I've learned from over the past four years.

Here's to that night in the computer lab right before the Fundies lighting final.

Here's to the Shakespeares, the satires, the 6330s.

iloveyouall.

Freshmen, sophomores and juniors: advocate!

One. Scott Bakula is on Chuck. There is absolutely no way I can un-addict myself from television now.

Two. I had a series of nightmares last night. The first was so bad that I couldn't go back to sleep for forty-five minutes after I shook myself awake. It'll sound silly, but I dreamed that I went to a party with my dad and he got so drunk that he didn't remember me, and it was absolutely terrifying. The second was your garden variety supernatural serial killer dream. The only weak spots the shape-shifter had were his eyes and mouth, both endless black hollows. The only way to infiltrate the weak spots was to strike them directly. You couldn't second-guess yourself or be afraid of the killer's teeth. You just had to punch.

Three. I think the one thing that I wish I could have remembered to tell the little kids at senior forum was this: you are your own best advocate. I'm on the B.A. student advocacy council. Sometimes I forget that I am because no one ever comes to me with any problems about the department (but maybe they should...) Anyway, once or twice I was grousing to myself about things I was going through in productions, and then I thought, "Wait. I can do something about this. I can try my hardest to consistently be a pleasant person to work with and I can communicate with my professors if something legitimately doesn't work for me." You can be your own best answer to your problem. It's not anybody else's job to keep you engaged and working in theatre productively. It's yours. So be nice, work hard, talk.