Sob Story of the Century.

Today in my teenage angst, I was pathetic.


It's really quite the sob story. You see, most of my life, I've lived in fear of inevitable rejection. I've never actually been rejected, but it seems to be a societal trend so better to be prepared right?
In the course of preparing myself, I seem to have shut out almost all possible community. This is not to say that I don't have friends. This is to say that I am not a part of a 'friend group', whatever that may mean. 
Now, I torture myself daily by yearning for the community that I, myself, have not allowed me to have. 


Everyday, I scan through pictures on facebook and practically burn in envy of those who've experienced, opened themselves to and now have that community. I scorn them for not including me. I judge them for being so elitist. I analyze the social structure of my surroundings - yet again - and deem myself to be on the periphery.


Am I not, however, placing myself there? Am I not mourning my inability to breach the periphery to be closer to the core, instead of just walking in? Am I not denying myself the joy I scorn others for having? 
Yes; on all accounts, yes.


I daily long for a close and intentional community and daily I deny myself of having it. 


O that I may not just recognize this fault but take responsibility for it. Though community is a gift from the Lord, I have (just as with every other gift) a responsibility to steward it. 


I can't claim my sob story as valid if I'm the one at fault, can I? 

Child-size.

Today in my teenage angst, I came to a full understanding of my child-size feet. 

This understanding did not come through the fact that I shop in kids for shoes. 

No this understanding came through the fact that my friend Greg, has feet twelve sizes bigger than mine. 

These pictures don't do it justice, I know, but seriously. It helps that Greg is like 6.10 and I'm 5.4. 

If I'm not mistaken, that's a foot and a half of serious height difference. I think this justifies my non-existent feet. 

Double it up.

Today in my teenage angst, I became a double blogger.
As is explained there, I am an analytical by nature. This new blog will allow me to analyze, evaluate and critique artful aspects of my life in an intentional way.


We started off with Year of the Dog, which I watched again tonight with my sister. 
So head on over to www.evaluativeexpose.blogspot.com and check it out! 

Love affair in this building.

Today in my teenage angst, I realized I'm having a love affair with the library. 
More specifically, this cubicle. My semester schedule has allowed me to spend about four hours there a day; and I have been loving it.
Every time I discover someone else sitting there I feel like my cubicle is cheating on me. Though I do acknowledge its inanimate state and subsequently deduce that its being coerced into cheating on me. 


This brown smudge is my cubicle's 'blood spot'. I know its not actually blood but I watch too much Criminal Minds and like to imagine the circumstances that put it there.


I think I'm becoming a masochist. 

Russel Crow sings sweetly.

Today in my teenage angst, Russel Crow sang in chapel.
Just kidding. Apparently Corey Doak used to go to my school and made a visit back to bless us with his troubadour-esque nature.  


From my seat at the back** all I could see was Russell Crow singing sweet songs to me about growing up in the nineties.
He also taught us that the many faucets of life can be beautiful.


Not bad for a Monday morning, I'd say. 


** My seat at the back was specifically chosen in anticipation of deeming the affair too ridiculous to stick around for . . . 

Latvian Love.

Today in my teenage angst, I was loved by some Latvians. More accurately, I was handed a Latvian flag and upon seeing me holding a piece of their national pride, they smiled and waved.
In continuing my mother's birthday celebration, my family went to the World's Curling Tournament in  Swift Current. I have not missed that place whatsoever.


Latvia was the host team for that round of games which essentially meant we honor them by playing their national anthem. In true Swift Current fashion, there were technical difficulties. Only the last two chord of the anthem played and we all stood awkwardly in silence . . . this would soon be fixed. Then started a new song . . . likely not of the Latvian persuasion as it was Lyndard Skynard's classic Sweet Home Alabama. Not exactly our shining moment. 


Live professional curling is much more fun than anyone would expect. We were fortunate enough to see a game between Canada and Switzerland. We had to fight but we took it handily.
This is Jennifer Jones, skip of team Canada.

This is a picture of Cathy-O, Team Canada's third. She's a bit of a hero for me . . . however newly acquired. So I spent the game stalking her. Kind of . . . anyway, because our seats were so great, I got nice and close. Up close and personal.

Spa Sense.

Today in my teenage angst, I went for a manicure. 
Before you think me lacking in good sense, it was for my mother's birthday.


The overall experience taught me three things.  
a) Spa treatments are an unnecessary luxury that should be avoided on all occasions, save my mother's birthday.
b) Short nails with dark polish are very in.  Thus, I am in. 
c) I should never let anyone touch my arm hair. The lady messed it all up and didn't smooth it down again, sending me into a small panic.  


All this to say, I now have very nicely shaped nails that might cause me to shape them on my own. It's also worth noting that I got a bottle of really nice black nail polish out of the deal. I had no idea that high end cosmetic companies made black polish! What a win. 

Time Flies.

Today in my teenage angst, I came face to face with one of summer's most loath-ed creatures.  


The fly.  


This means that spring is here, summer is on its way and the infestation of flies will soon be making us crazy.  
Who doesn't love this time of year?  

Not so sour milk.

Today in my teenage angst, I concluded that expiry dates are simply an estimation.


I am on my second jug of 1% milk that has lasted to at least a week over its expiry date.  
My sister refuses to drink it on the grounds that she's leery about it's overdue nature. 


I think Dairyland's expiry machines are off by a bit. . . 


This also brings to mind  how my roommate of old hated moldy things and would throw up a little in her mouth when she had to touch them. I just don't see how you can avoid it forever. And don't even get me started on her specialty cheeses.  A little contradictory, don't you think . . .  

Gay rights.

Hey. My name is Hannah and I’m straight. I’m also a Christian.  

I saw this picture today, on Facebook, and cried. I thought that hatred of homosexuals among Christians was a thing of the past. I thought we had gotten over our arrogance and decided that the awkward avoidance approach was more effective.  But then this happened.  I’m from Canada and am clearly not aware of a lot that goes on in the Christian communities down in the states, but I truly did think we were past this.

I don’t want to preach a relativist theology but I can’t seem to understand what gives us the right to condemn the lives and sin of others in comparison to our own. I’m not saying that the Bible speaks for homosexuality. In fact it speaks against it.  This however does not present the right to slap the faces of those who stand in the midst of it.


The verse written on that picket board states that God hates those who do wrong. Simple reason would indicate that the man holding the board is therefore included in that statement.  

There are those who love their money more than their own families. Jesus commands against that too. The national view of marriage and divorce is synonymous with a department store exchange. Jesus commands against that too. Most of the population walk by the homeless every day and fail to care whatever that those people don’t have a tenth of what they do. Jesus commands against that too. 

But we don’t stand on street corners screaming damnation for them; do we? Sin is sin.

I’m not arguing for the negation of the commands of Christ. I am however arguing for love. I am arguing for the one thing that Jesus commanded of us above all else; that we care about him and that we care about those who surround us.

If we can’t do that, we cannot follow him.   

Rhythmic difficulties.

Today in my teenage angst, my professor told me I could blame my lack of rhythm on the church.


I'm pretty certain this is the answer I've been searching for my entire life.  

Just a way of life.

Today in my teenage angst, I realized that way of life is everything.


I also realized that fear can easily become a way of life. Lately, I've been contemplating those who live in areas of war and how strange life must be for them. This might be especially true if their country has been at war for several decades.  


What must it be like to live a life defined by war and subsequently fear? What must it be like to get used to that and almost comfortable in it but at the same time ready to jump at a moment's notice?  What must it be like to not live like I do?


I think that we often justify injustice in the world by saying that 'no on should have to live like that.'  It's true - no one should have to live like that, but people do.  Have they accepted the definition of their lives?  Would I accept that definition? 

The best family vacation ever.

Today in my teenage angst, I am joining a family - that is not my own - on their weekend road trip to Edmonton.
To be fair to myself, I'm not just looking for surrogate families to travel with, we do have a collective purpose.


But the fact that I have no control over anything that happens this weekend makes me want to start finding surrogate families to travel with. 


So, I'm just going to sit back, knit my friend a hat and watch movies on their awesome in car movie screens.  Might be the best weekend ever. 

So check me out.

Today in my teenage angst, I rectified the shame of my last post.  
After almost giving up on my knitting career, I started again in hopes of completing a hat.  

Thanks to my dear friend Lisa, the sewing process went much more smoothly than anticipated.  


I made something, folks! I am a creator.