09.30.01 >2256

Today was awesome. And I'd best go before I get the "Look" (YIKES!) ...


"... worship You, my Lord, till the very end ..."

The face of worship has changed so much in the past couple decades. Worship isn't restricted to hymn books anymore. Better yet, modern worship appeals more and more to the younger generation.

Not that there's anything wrong with hymns - there are some out there like "Amazing Grace," "How Great Thou Art" and "It Is Well with My Soul" that I love just as much as "Heart of Worship," "Reign in Me" and "Jesus, Lover of My Soul."

Mir played a song for me yesterday that I've had on repeat ever since ... and yes, it did make me cry. A lot. This might sound strange to some of you, but worship is something I can do for hours on end; even if it involves singing one line of a song over and over, I'll never get tired of it. Worship closes that gap between him and me - it makes me feel like I'm sitting in his lap and listening to him "rejoice over me with singing." It causes me to weep. It compels me to write poetry to him. It makes him seem much more real to me than he was perhaps just a moment ago. It makes me love him more than ever before.

09.29.01 >2232

Tonight I got to see my littlest cousin, Josephine, who was born on Monday amidst thunder and lightning. My aunt says she has my "petite" hands, but otherwise she looks a lot like my grandfather. She's incredibly tiny ... I was almost afraid to hold her. And I knew I had this strange, goofy smile on my face while she was in my arms, but that alone was reason enough to feel goofy, as if I'd just received the best surprise ever and couldn't bring myself to believe it yet.

Newborn babies do that to ya.


Why is it that whenever I hear a new worship song that I instantly fall in love with ... that I start to cry?

09.28.01 >2320

Hear the incoherent babbling
of the man who wears the bonds of despair.

Hear his voice rise in fear
as a shadow blots out
the sliver of golden light
that creeps in under his cell door.

Watch him burrow into a corner
as the hinges squeak,
announcing the arrival of a dreaded visitor.

Hear the stranger speak
in the softest voice
as he bends to low to the emaciated form.

See the prisoner relax, despite his suspicion,
when he looks into the stranger's kind eyes.

Now watch the visitor
slip keys from his coat pocket,

And hear the chains clatter
as they fall to the naked stone floor.

See the prisoner stagger to his feet,
cold hands trembling, pale face flushing with hope.

"Why?" he whispers.

See the stranger smile gently
as he says, "Because they set you free a long time ago, my friend.

They just forgot to let you out."



Mir picked me up from the BART station this afternoon before we headed off to get the birthday cake for Mom - tiramisu. Yummy!

Seein' that I got to brag a little about my brother Larry yesterday, I s'pose I could do the same for Miriam. *grin* We're eleven months apart in age, and before she got contacts, we were always mistaken to be twins (though how people thought we were twins is beyond me, because we don't look that much alike), from elementary school 'til we both graduated from high school.

Mir's the loud, headstrong one out of the four of us kids. She also acts a lot more responsibly than I do in some things ... and I'm not afraid to admit that now, though at one time I think I resented this, most likely 'cause I felt that since I was the oldest, I'm supposed to be the responsible one. But things and people are not always what they seem, and that's the case for Mir.

Gotta run, kitchen duty's calling ... (Why is it that my dad thinks I'm here just to jump on the computer every time I come home? Argh ...)

09.27.01 >2335

New poems are up on the poetry page. And just in case you haven't noticed already, there's a new blog page that used to lurk around here - now it's out in the open and looking much cleaner. Oh, one more thing (last announcement, I promise) ... the pics page has finally been updated. Enjoy.

On that note, this tired blogger is goin' to bed. Sweet dreams, y'all ...


Whew. I get to go home tomorrow, for the first time in nearly three weeks. It's my mum's birthday, see. And I'll get to see my bro for the first time in, er, three weeks, and see what he's up to.

It's fairly strange ... but since youth camp I've felt closer to Lare than before. And we never used to get along when we were growing up. It just seemed like a wall kept us from communicating with each other ... okay, yes, there was a wall. I remember clearly on the Monday night of that week, during the evening service that lasted for five hours (no joke), that I pretty much got "pushed" to ask for his forgiveness for never being there when he needed someone to talk to. And then we prayed together ... and hugged ... and things have been koo-el between us since.

I'm proud of Lare. I'm glad he's found a church to belong to. *chuckle* If he's not playing the bass, he's playing soundman. If he's not playing soundman, he's playing deacon (yes, he collects the offering - he's probly the youngest deacon they've got). He's changed a lot during the past year and a half alone.

And knowing him ... I'm glad he also doesn't know about this page, 'cause he'd probably be embarrassed as heck to hear me talking like this!


The apartment meeting had mixed results. The good? We got the air cleared of some things that have happened during the past month and a half - things that didn't really concern me, but things that nevertheless affected the atmosphere in the apartment. The bad? Ylang is still angry with Chris (the party animal).

After an early incident with Ylang, I have to admit that I thought we wouldn't be getting along. Surprisingly, though, we've been able to talk and do a few things together. BUT ... last night brought out that somewhat negative attitude that threw me off when I first met Ylang, and she didn't bother to hide her hostility towards Chris, even though Chris made every effort to be nice to her.

Is there something wrong with this picture??

Now I'm slightly ticked off at Ylang, because she can't seem to understand that Chris is not trying to blow her off or anything, and neither are her friends (yes, they're loud, but Ylang doesn't like talking to them, so they don't talk to her ... uhh, can you say "communication probs"?) she just isn't making any effort to get to know Chris better, and yet she's insisting that Chris do things that are contrary to her personality. And she seems to be taking every one of Chris's jokes personally, as if Chris is deliberately trying to slight her every time she teases her about something. (Chris, I've found out, is a pretty easygoing person, and can also be pretty blunt, too.)

Roomies ...

09.26.01 >1613

I wonder if this is how my dad feels every time he attends these sorts of things. Expos, I mean. Technology conferences. Not that it's bad or anything - it's just that all the exhibits I visited today have kinda overwhelmed me. Suddenly I'm wondering why I've never updated my OS platform to something beyond the primitive 8.5 system on my Mac ... suddenly I want a Canon Digital Camera that makes taking digital photos and uploading them onto your computer seem so easy ... suddenly I want to learn more intermediate forms of web design and development. Know what I mean?

This story hit me like a brick. That's exactly how I'm feeling about the current media blitz - 'cept I learned something at the Seybold conference this morning that made me think : if you think there's too much information out there, learn to pick the right info filters. Nowadays, when it comes to the military buildup and everything else that's followed the attacks, I rely on one newspaper a day for my fill of the news, a few news sites, and that's it. Otherwise, I stick to surfing blogs and writing stories and poetry.

09.25.01 >2310

Oh, wonderful - I am not looking forward to tomorrow night. Things are sure to get heated between the party animal and Ylang, since they are the ones that have issues with each other ... esp. Ylang. I can certainly understand where she's coming from, though; the party animal's friends are pretty loud whenever they come over, and they stay loud sometimes 'til the wee hours of the morn, getting drunk and killing off a few more neurons. However, they also have a tendency to look down at the rest of us, the party animal's roomies, since we're not part of their drunken clique (not that any of us are begging to join) ... and apparently, one of the PA's friends totally blew off my roommate in the hall and got her completely PO'd. So now things are at a point where several unspoken issues need to get resolved before they escalate into something worse. Apt. meeting tomorrow evening - argh, I ain't too excited about it.

What I am excited about is that I get to meet Jason tomorrow morning - and Dave, who provided a lot more helpful news sources and insight during the initial hours that followed the attacks than cnn.com and such. Whoohoo! Seybold, here I come ...


blog of the week : silvergull

quote of the week : "If we don't change, we don't grow. If we don't grow, we are not really living." Gail Sheehy


Cripes, I'm tired.

Seems like I've got roomie trouble - not me directly, but I'm noticing a lot of friction lately between two of my roommates. Argh.

09.24.01 >2050

Now this is interesting. Note that I am not really big on boy bands, but apparently Kevin Richardson has evoked a lot of responses with his remarks regarding the attacks. Neat.



I am absolutely enthralled by thunderstorms, and it seems like I got back home right in time to watch one!

It started across the bay, moved with its misty, silver robe of rain trailing in its wake to gracefully but briefly caress the mountains, and then moved here. And now it seems so close that "rolling thunder" doesn't do this storm any justice. How about "heaven's war cry"?

The lightning is directly overhead now, and you could see the light reflect on the walls of the dorm residence a couple hundred feet away. I heard a song recently that went something like, "You cracked the sky like broken glass ..." This lyric describes the lightning strikes perfectly.

Oh, wonderful, the lights are flickering - okay, I appreciate the beauty and sounds of a thunderstorm, but I'd rather not have the electricity go out on me now! And our cable's busted ...

09.23.01 >2356

I sit here in my chair and stare almost blankly at an unchanging computer screen; I've got a lot going through my head right now. If the dang phone hadn't gone out on me, I would've probly treated you to a somewhat incoherent rant (of my own) about everything that I've been thinking since the term "war on terrorism" was first mentioned in the news a couple weeks ago. Yes, it's hard to believe that almost two weeks have gone by since the events of September 11 took place, and I too dread the future for what it might bring. Dread, but not worry about. I think the faith did something to make the worry go away ... still, the dread remains. And it's growing.

See the poem down there? The one that starts with "What makes me weep"? I think I might have to rewrite that one. Or perhaps write a similar piece, minus the patriotic bull.

Argh. And I hafta rise early tomorrow morning, so I'd best sign off. Though I doubt sleep will come easily while I'm in "reflection mode."


I laughed pretty hard while reading this error page. Check it out ...

09.22.01 >2154

I already posted once! Why're you making me log in again for?

A futile protest to myself. I need to get this all down somewhere!

See the two links below to those wonderful (IMO) articles? I printed them out earlier this afternoon. When I got tired of looking at my computer screen and decided instead to turn my weary eyes to books, I picked up these articles and read through them again.

I almost started crying.

Sometime during the past two weeks, my faith got buried somewhere under the helplessness, rage, sadness and disgust. These articles tore a hole through those emotions so that my faith could return to the surface.

While I may not completely agree with or understand everything Volf said, the word reconciliation brought a devotional I once read back to mind : every believer is part of a ministry, a common ministry, and that ministry is reconciliation. (2 Corinthians 5 : 17 - 21)

~ * ~

I do not want to embarrass you, L.A.T., but you have no idea how much you've encouraged me to doggedly cling to and grow in my faith. The fact that we do not share the same faith makes little difference to me. Thank you. *hugs x infinity*


"i praise you because i am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, i know that full well." psalm 139 : 18

~ * ~

Sometimes I want to disassemble
the woman I see in the mirror,
piece by piece,
like a completed puzzle I want to put away.

I want to examine every edge, every color, the texture, the shape,
until I intimately know this fusion of flesh, mind and soul.

Who gave this poet her bardic gift?
Who fitted her with those able hands?
Who gave her the voice of the storyteller?

And then the mirror ripples, the image changes,
and I realize that she could have only been made
by Your loving Hands.



WOW-EE. Read this. All of it.

And then read this.

(Many, many thanks, Rich. You have my undying gratitude.)


While getting ready to write a "self-reflection" paper for my social science class, I had to read this essay on "class distinction" from the assigned text.

Perhaps I just took it for granted, but I am now realizing that class in America is never mentioned. In fact, it seems like a taboo to mention this word, with one exception : "middle class." Have you ever noticed that before? Middle class encompasses families and households that are neither rich nor poor. They're just . . . there. And yet at the same time, they're catered to all the time by businesses and politicians. I keep hearing news reports that the gap between the "rich" and "poor" (as the upper and lower class are dubbed by our media) is widening - so just how big is the middle class in America?

An interesting little bit I'd like to share with you :

At last count, nearly 35 million Americans across the nation lived in unrelenting poverty. Yet, as political scientist Michael Harrington once commented, "America has the best dressed poverty the world has ever known." Clothing disguises much of the poverty in the United States, and this may explain, in part, its middle-class image. With increased mass marketing of designer clothing and with shifts in the nation's economy from blue-collar (and often better-paying) manufacturing jobs to white-collar and pink-collar jobs in the service sector, it is becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish class differences based on appearance.
~ * ~

What would you do with an extra hour, if you were free to do anything you wanted?

09.21.01 >1557

I am beginning to think that a majority of Americans are not only getting a little paranoid and bloodthirsty - they're also getting stupid.

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." - Benjamin Franklin, Historical Review of Pennsylvania, 1759 (via a whole lotta nothing)
Uh, no, I'd rather not give up my civil liberties just to feel more secure whenever I walk through an airport. For one thing, a lax in airport security has always been a sore point for the FAA, and it took something like last week's hijackings to get 'em jumping. Though stories like this and this disgust me. (I'm glad I took journalism ethics last semester.) C'mon, people, get a grip here!


My Friday job can be so amusing sometimes. My boss, Julia, gets frazzled easily, and sometimes I wonder if all she operates on is coffee from the day before. Nice lady, though.