Fun Fact #384

So, I go out into public from time to time. I know. I know. Shocking. As dangerous as this activity is, for certain, it's a kind of hobby of mine...

...Anywho, so, more occasionally than not, there's a situation I find myself in when I am out in a public place that I can't help but laugh at. I'm trying to formulate a way to explain it so it doesn't sound... creepy. But I'm having a brain fart, so I'll state it bluntly:

Little girls love me.

I'm serious. If I'm out somewhere, and there's a little girl, usually ages 2-7, that I've never seen in my life, 8 out of 10 times that little girl will end up next to me, playing hide-and-seek from behind a chair, or telling me all about her American Girl doll collection and pet lizards, as if she's known me all her little life. And I don't do anything to provoke it; no initiated conversation or bribery of tootsie pops. They just find me!... like a magnet. It's weird.

Have you ever seen The Santa Claus? Remember that scene when Tim Allen is at his son's soccer game and that little girl just determinatively marches over to him, sits down next to him, and keeps inching toward him, finally ending up on his lap as comfortable as can be, telling him what she wants for Christmas? Yeah. That's pretty much what happens to me, minus the whole Santa thing.

This is a very random thing to tell you all, I know. But I'm at the airport in St. Lou, and a little two year old girl wanders over to me and starts playing that cute little peak-a-boo game, where all you have to do is look at her and look away about twice and she's just giggling like crazy, and my heart starts melting all over the place. Not the first, nor last, time this will happen. I guarantee.

Anyway, enjoy that little awkward fun fact, bloggers. I'm gonna go fall asleep somewhere till my next flight.

Short, sweet, and a little bit lazy.

So, here it is, Christmas Eve 2011. And here I am, laying in bed past noon for the 3rd day in a row. It's wonderful.

This past semester was a success. 3.80 and I'm officially exhausted. Spring semester, here I come!

I've been doing a lot of nothing since I've been home for the holidays. My sister/bro-in-law and their twin baby girls are here visiting and it's been amazing spending time with them :) Those little girlies (they're one year old) are so bright and cute!

Being home with friends and family is refreshing, it really is, but I'm glad it's only for a short time and then I can leave again. This place is home in the sense that I grew up here and loved ones are here, but this is no longer where my soul fits. There's a fog over me when I'm here, I suppose. A good fog that makes you want to curl up with a cup of tea and read a book, but ends up keeping you inside much longer than you'd prefer (all metaphorically speaking if course. It's rather sunny outside right now).

I do love it here. But I look forward to getting back to the Mid West :)

Theology, food, and knots.

I am in the process of doing research for a theology paper that's due shortly. I haven't decided exactly on the thesis (hopefully that will flow naturally from my research), but I'm working toward formulating what I believe to be true about the nature of sin, the purpose of redemption, and the possibilities (or impossibilities) within sanctification. The broadness of these three ideas combined is somewhat overwhelming to me, but I'm finding it difficult to separate them. So, for now, it is what it is.

Ah, how I wish I could detach myself from this; that I could have chosen the topic of "infant baptism" and simply regurgitated some micro-wave easy, pre-formulated view that I purchased at Wal-Mart for $.89.

Directions :
1. Babies should be baptized.
2. This is why.
3. Add nip/tuck sources.

Let cool and serve.

But no. Instead, I thought it would be a good idea to pile up 6 large plates at the All-You-Can-Eat Theology Buffet so that I could get my money's worth, regardless of the consequences which, by the way, happen to involve me hugging a toilet at 2AM due to overeating and food poisoning...

...metaphorically speaking, of course.
(I'm not crazy, I've just been contemplating the meaning of life for 4 hours.)

Still, I prefer it this way. It's just that time constraints are... well... constraining. And for whatever reason, I've become so emotionally enthralled with my research topic that my spirit has reasoned and impassioned my stomach into a thousand tiny gut-wrenching knots; forcing me to quit for the evening.

I'm trying hard to stay open-minded and sensitive. I have become progressively aware that truth is not determined by what I feel about it (though the soul's responses can certainly be indicators in sniffing it out). If something is, in fact, truth, I must follow it, regardless of how nicely it sits with me. But because that is the case, I am determined to be all too particular concerning what I choose to believe, if I am to be devoted to it.

I digress. Good night, dear bloggers (whoever you are).
I leave you with a few fine knots to untangle yourselves :

"And by this we know that we have come to know Him, if we keep His commandments."
1 John 2:3

"For if the inheritance is based on the law, it is no longer based on a promise."
Galatians 3:19

Via Cellular Device

So, mainly I'm just testing out my Blogger app on my iPhone. I remember checking for this app a few months ago and not finding it... so I'm pretty stoked to have it.

In other news, Spanksgiving Break shall be upon us shortly, and my big plans involve getting started on a paper for Theology... Not really sure exactly what the research will be on. Something along the lines of assessing the personality of Jesus. It sounds super stiff when I put it that way, but, really, what I would love to do, as far as "research" is concerned, is sit down with Jesus and share a bottle of wine; just have a conversation with the guy... "So, Jes, what did You REALLY mean when You said that? Did you ever intend for Your people to do this, that, or the other? What do we actually have right? What about You did we get wrong?"

"Well, Lis, you see... (*insert Truth here*)."

But I don't know if that would count in a Lorenz class as a "scholarly source." ;)

Well, then... to the library!

Blogging Equals Irresponsibility

It stormed today. It was wonderful.

As I stood at the window watching the rain, sipping some coffee, I had the strongest desire to step outside, sit down on the street curb, and allow myself to be immersed in the cold downpour. Alas, I had to go to class, otherwise I guarantee you that I would have.

I recognize this to be a completely typical scenario in the current chapter of the Book of Lisa. Everything must wait; everything; from sitting in the rain, to finding time to call my own mother (which I could actually probably be doing instead of blogging). I pondered this as I ripped myself away from the lovely scene outside and wandered back to the classroom.

Don't get me wrong. I'm actually obsessively addicted to school (as you may or may not have gathered from recent posts). I get a disturbing high off of going, going, going, stressing myself out, working my toosh off, and seeing the fruit of it. And I love learning. Love, love, love learning! I've found a new and surprising interest in music theory and music history. And what's absolutely insane is that I am seriously considering getting a 2nd bachelor's, and continuing to graduate and doctorate work! And what's even more, I want to teach music history in college! (She proclaimed through deranged, hysterical laughter). Some one, please sedate me.

Despite my true love for it, school is rough, because it demands all of my attention. I can't compartmentalize my college career. It's there, looming, always; filtering into every nook and cranny. Anything that's not fulfilling an educational obligation comes second, and if I don't have time to gather my entrails, then I simply don't have time, and instead I have to press on across the battlefield, with or without all my limbs intact.

The fact of the matter is, I enjoy what I'm doing, but I need a recharge. I need to get out of this town for a day or two; drive for a few hours, find a new coffee shop, a change of atmosphere, and gather myself.

Anyone up for a road trip?

The Little Collegiate Acorn Who Surrendered and Drank Lots of Coffee with Hobbits to Grow a Forest of Apple Trees, or Something Along Those Lines.

Okay, now that I've caught my breath for a moment, here's the situation:

I'm on a mission. A mission to get my bachelor's and get the hell out of Kansas. 

So, I'm cramming credits this semester to graduate in May (buh-bye, adios, see ya!), only to discover that I've overlooked quite a few electives, and instead of breezing my way through Spring and being done with it, like I'd anticipated, I've got to clutter it up with even more credits in order to walk on time, and then another 2 courses this summer to officially complete my B.S. It could definitely be way worse, but it's a disappointment regardless.

All to say, I was talking with a professor the other day about this slightly frustrating turn of events. He listened patiently as I expressed sentiments similar to my previous blog post (with less profanities... he is an Anglican priest and professor at a Christian college, after all), and then he shared with me some kind and helpful words.

"There's sacrifice... and then there's surrender," he explained.

He presented the idea that sacrifice poses a necessity. It demands action without option. When we sacrifice something, it is because we have to. There is no other choice. No other way out.

But when we surrender, we are under no obligation to do so. We have the option to go all in or quit, and when we surrender and "suck it up," so to speak, we do it because we have a belief that there is something greater on the other side of it.

"We never know what we can accomplish; how much potential we have," he continued. "Think of an acorn. Not only will it grow to become a tree, but that one acorn has the potential to produce an entire forest! It's like that saying... 'You can count the seeds in an apple, but you can never count the apples in a seed.'"

It brings me back to some advise my Dad gave me recently:

"Rule over chaos. 'Get up Trinity! Get up!' Stand up. Keep moving. Others need you. Remember the reason we wear a helmet and armor. Life's a war which is won by folks in those stories who press on because the have a growing awareness that 'there's good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fightin' for!'"

(Unrelated, sort of, he also added):

"And oh, yeah, force yourself to make and drink a very robust, manly cup of coffee. Sometimes drugs actually help. Legal drugs."

So, I keep going. I surrender, regardless of the emotional hissy-fit I've been throwing. And I hope that this hard work, this college "stuff," really is building toward something specific in my life; something more than a lousy "at-least-I-can-say-I-did-it."

I want to arrive at that "forest" and be able to say, "Ohhhh... so THIS is why I did it!..."

College is devouring my soul.

DISCLAIMER: The following consists of a big huge bundle of bitching.
Proceed at your own risk.

Is it just me, or do other students also feel that college life just loves behaving like a greased pig?

WHAT in the world am I doing here? Okay, so, I BUST my ass (49 credits in 2 and a half semesters, you bet I am!) just so in May I can walk down the isle in a cute little cap and gown, so they'll hand me a little, black, cushiony folder... that's EMPTY (because I'll still be in the process of receiving the last 7 of those 49)... and when I FINALLY earn each and every damned, worthless, asinine credit in August, they'll mail me that somewhat-thicker-than-computer-paper piece of paper, stating that I'm capable of sitting still for a few hours and that I know how to waste money.

...And do you want to know what I'll do with it?

Nothing! NOOOTHINNGGG!!!!!

I would really really really really really like to just throw my hands up and say "f-ck it."

Happy Registration Day. Enjoy the movie clip...

A Product of Theology Homework

One cold Winter's day, Grandma, after taking note that two of her grandsons, Vinny and Wes, had been wandering around in the snow (chilling to the bone), she decided to make a scarf for each of them to keep them warm. She took the warmest, most spectacular grey yarn, and crocheted the finest pair of scarves any grandson could have.

Grandma beamed as she handed her boys her handmade gift, glad to give them something to keep them cozy in the freezing wind.

"Look at these beautiful black scarves!" proclaimed Vinny

"They aren't black..." corrected Wes, "...they're white."

Vinny and Wes went back and forth for some time, arguing over whether the grey scarves were black or white. They beckoned their friends and passed around the scarves, inquiring and persuading to reach the bottom line. They're friends, picking sides, continued inquiring and persuading just as passionately, each passing the scarves to the next curious friend.

"The scarves are black!"

"The scarves are white!"

All the while, Grandma sat and swayed in her wooden rocking chair, melancholy, wishing only that her sweet grandsons would take their warm, grey scarves and wrap them 'round their chilling necks.

God is in my coffee.

Lately, I've been attempting to form a spiritual perspective with what I accept rather than with what I reject. I realize what I hypocrite I am to say that my connection with God through admiring nature is sufficient divine conversation, while some one else's Sunday morning service is not. Yeah, it's not really my cup of coffee, but we all have different palates.

It's like a painter at the easel, or a baker and her cupcakes; like the writer of a novel, or even the three-year-old and her play-dough village. In all these "products" there are signs and reflections of the producer and their personality. The artists style, the baker's taste, the author's vocabulary, the three-year-olds imagination. You see where I'm going with this... If God is the creator of all things, then why do we dismiss the possibility of understanding Him more through, well... all things? And if each of us possess different passions, different perspectives, different interests, then how can we misunderstand how the musician is more inclined to hear Him in music, the church-goer more apt to witness Him in a sanctuary, or the doctor more prone to find Him in the intricacies of the human body?

So, let's be real here. No, seriously. Let's shed all of our labels, reputations, prejudices, yada yada, and let's be real people. Bona fide, snot-nosed, everybody-poops, hurting, lying, crying, we're-all-dying type of REAL people...

The manifestation of God IS in all things. All things. I don't mean the interpretation of truth, but rather the realization of it. Not "what's right for me is right for me, and what's right for you is right for you," regardless of contradiction. No. I mean truth and God are revealed in all things, good, bad, beautiful, and ugly, and the places that I find Him are no better than the places that you find Him. So, why not be excited to share with one another the ways that we've come to know Him, and eager to learn from others without bias?

All to say, though we should always approach ideas and theories with discernment and precaution of delusions, let's be careful not to throw the baby out with the bathwater :)

"Two of a trade never agree."

"Pride is a spiritual cancer: it eats up the very possibility of love, or contentment, or even common sense...

The more pride one has, the more one dislikes pride in others... The point is that each person's pride is in competition with ever one else's pride... Two of a trade never agree... It is the comparison that makes you proud: the pleasure of being above the rest... A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you...

We must not think pride is something God forbids because He is offended at it, or that Humility is something He demands as due to His own dignity - as if God Himself was proud. He is not in the least worried about His dignity. The point is, He wants you to know Him: wants to give you Himself. And He and you are two things of such a kind that if you really get into any kind of touch with Him, you will, in fact be humble - delightedly humble, feeling the infinite relief of having for once got rid of all the silly nonsense about your own dignity which has made you restless and unhappy all your life."

-C.S. Lewis - Mere Christianity

Knock, knock.

A few weeks ago, a big ol' tree branch fell on Noffy's neighbor's wooden shed. They've since been fixing it, and as they were, I spotted one of the old wooden doors in the trash and begged Noffy to ask his neighbor if we could have it! "Why?" You might ask (if you're anything like Noffy). Well... to make a jewelry board, of course!

My prize :)

Noffy helped me (or rather, I helped him) cut it, about 2x3. I wanted to make sure to keep the handle on it so it still looked like part of a door. There's about half of it left over, so I've been brainstorming what to do with the extra pieces.

What a guy; helping me with my little projects :)

Screwing in the hooks.

The finished product. We had to hang it a bit off-center due to the framing in the wall, but no worries. I still love it! We bolted a wire to the back and hung it by two nails.

The door was free, and the hooks were only $2.50 for a pack. Plus only about an hour of our time, and I'd say it ain't so bad a deal! Now what to do with those extra door pieces... a bracelet board, maybe? Hmm...

Winter, come quick!

I did it! I finished my first infinity scarf!

Recently, my good friend Kellory taught me how to crochet, and I've been a crocheting fiend ever since! I've had my hopes on getting an infinity scarf for this up coming winter, but have honestly been way too cheap to buy one for $30+... so instead, I made one for a little less than $20!

If I had to do it over, which I think I will, I'm going to use a lighter yarn (I chose a very thick yarn for this scarf, thinking it would make it warmer. All it really did was make it stiff), and I'll make it a skein longer (I used 5 on this one, I think). 

Gahhh! I can't wait for winter to get here!

I am a tree cricket.

"Chase after truth like all hell and you'll free yourself,

even though you never touch its coat-tails."

I was raised in a Christian home. Though 'Christian' ideals and theologies have not been my cup of tea lately, I do have to say, I'm very blessed to have had parents who instructed me, yet never force fed me. If only by example, I have always been taught to think for myself and to come to conclusions based on conviction rather than the convenience of cookie-cutter beliefs.

As a result, my spiritual journey has been somewhat of a rollercoaster, as I'm sure isn't an uncommon story for most. In junior high, I wasn't super enthusiastic about God or religion. In high school, I might have been a little too enthusiastic, pushing my beliefs on others without consideration for the individual. Now, in my college years... well, it's hard to discern what my faith looks like now. The best description I have might consists of the words 'distracted,' 'unsatisfied,' 'confused,' 'lethargic,' and 'constricting.'

When I was about 5 years old, I used to collect cicada sheddings. Gross, I know, but for some reason I was fascinated by these transparent, empty, bug-shaped cases. I remember having my sisters hoist me up into that big maple tree in our back yard, toy treasure chest in hand, so I could gather what was left of my noisey little summer friends.

I like to think I've got something in common with the cicada. Forming into something a bit too big for my skin, my body is stretching and twisting into something new. Something similar, but new. I believe that growing up in a Christian-based atmosphere (church every Sunday, Christian high school, Christian college, etc.) has somewhat desensitized me to the concept of depth. (I'm sure this can happen in any religion). My entire life I've heard 'saved by grace,' or 'born again,' 'faith,' 'Messiah,' 'heaven,' 'hell,' 'redemption,' 'Jesus.' Honestly speaking, most of these things have begun to loose all meaning to me. Like repeating the same word over and over again until all you have is a mumbled mesh of nonsense syllables. And these concepts have become so flawed and tight and twisted in my mind, so unlike what they once were, that I've found the most natural (yet difficult) approach is to slowly shed each dead cell and start fresh. Like the cicada.

I am a fool if I believe that I will ever hear or hold an unbiased interpretation of the Truth on this side of life. But I am content simply to seek It. And regardless of my distaste for all this 'evangelical' bullshit, I cannot help but be compelled by this Man named Jesus. I cannot help but be drawn to Him. Even if I never understand quite so much as the scholar claims to understand, it is enough for me, for now, to question, to observe, to seek Truth, in whatever form it presents Itself.

Where else can I go? 

C.S. Lewis can only be read in a British accent.

"People often think of Christian morality as a kind of bargain in which God says, 'If you keep a lot of rules I'll reward you, and if you don't I'll do the other thing.' I would much rather say that every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what is was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow creatures, and with itself. To be the one kind of creature is heaven: that is, it is joy and peace and knowledge and power. To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness. Each of us at each moment is progressing to the one state or the other."

-C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity

Dinner for Two

Last night I had Noffy over for a home-cooked "gourmet" meal, just the two of us! This summer has been fairly rough, so I figured this will put a pretty little coffee stain (in the good sense) on our memory of Summer '11. 

A few weeks ago, I left this invitation on his bed for when he got back from a work trip to Nashville.

Just a side note, I'm blessed to have a day job where I can hand-make a card while working. 

I set up my room as a private dining room. I love the lighting in there that time of day (sunset). It's just so... happy! :) This picture doesn't do it complete justice.

Waterfall scented candles and a few dried flowers for decoration :)

I made a strawberry/spinach salad to start, complete with carrots, cucumbers, and a home-made dressing of olive oil, white wine vinegar, sugar, honey, and sesame seeds! It was dee-lish!

I was sooo nervous to make salmon. Being from the coast, I've had my share of fish, but I've never prepared it myself. But it turned out WONDERFUL! (Just saying). Fresh salmon, marinated in teriyaki sauce, with sauteed zucchini and scallions, sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds, and served with boiled asparagus and brown rice!

And, of course, we had to get dolled up for the occasion.

The honored guest of the evening after finishing a fully satisfying meal ;)

To avoid Noffy's... uh... "reaction" to dairy product, we finished off the evening with vanilla almond milk ice cream, topped with a honey drizzle!

My Momma would be proud! ;)

And a P.S., thanks Liz & Josh (my good friends and landlords) for letting us invade the house for the evening. You rock ;)

Humbug

"The Spirit of God unearths the spirit of self-vindication; He makes us sensitive to things we never thought of before."

-Oswald Chambers

All's well that ends well.

I'll start this conversation off in a fashion that I'm sure You've heard a billion times before from so many others: I know we haven't really spoken much lately, but...

And then I'll tell You how I've been feeling, as if You didn't know: I can't seem to shake this emotional chaos, this down trodden, disappointing, heartbreaking emptiness.

I'll touch on my confusion: I'm never sure how to talk with You. But, honestly I suppose I wouldn't really wouldn't want to converse with anyone else. Not tonight anyway. But then again, maybe I'm just talking to myself. I mean, even if You are there, which I believe You are, I could still just be verbalizing my thoughts as a sort of unintentional therapy, not really consider You much at all. Just talking to release, not caring who it's toward.

I'll tell You things You've already known: I can't collect myself, my life. I had it all running smoothly, positively, gracefully, never once claiming it was on my own strength, but it was running smoothly, just the same. And at some point, I don't know when, it all starts tumbling down, down, down, down; emotionally, mentally. Whatever. And I'm on hard, cold concrete, under a pile of... stuff (though I'll really be thinking "shit"), wondering where You are, where my poise and motivation have gone, knowing how simple it is to just get up off my butt (but I'll really be thinking "ass") and seize the moment, but still feeling so held down by something only as difficult as I allow it to be; myself.

Then I'll connect with You through my dreams: You know that dream I always have? The one where I'm trying to move or speak or act, but I'm frozen and can do nothing? Completely frozen, like there's a force in every direction around me, pressing itself upon every physical fiber of my being. My thoughts are moving, moving, moving, but I'm stuck. Still. Immobile. I can do nothing. Nothing. 

As I'm speaking, my thoughts will loosen up and I'll then come to a conclusion about the situation: I need to get up, don't I? I need to start moving forward. Life has been nothing but good to me... YOU have been good to me. Why would I ever act as though I'm trapped? This cluttered mess I see before me, I can clean it. Broken promises, I can still fulfill them. Friendships I've neglected, I can mend them. Phone calls I've avoided, I can make them. Projects that need to be started, continued, finished, I can get up off my lazy ass (this time I'll really say it, because I'm feeling comfortable) and do them.

I'll draw a conclusion about You: You've made my hands and feet; my mouth, and eyes, and spirit. You've created me to keep walking, breathing, moving, working.

I'll draw a conclusion about myself: And I'm the only one stopping myself from moving.

I'll become thankful: You've made me to move, move, move if I want to. 

And I'll fall asleep etching the thought in my mind: I want to feel free. So I'm going to move.

And I'll wake up tomorrow, feeling...

Goodnight.

Forget about it.

"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."

- Emerson

This is what I needed to hear.

Ignite.

"What moves those of genius, what inspires their work is not new ideas, but their obsession with the idea that what has already been said is still not enough."

I've read lately on the unoriginality of most competent and popular artists. Not in a negative sense, but with the concept that humanity has been at it for thousands of years, billions of people per generation; how might we expect there to be anything new under the sun? One phrase in particular had caught my eye:

"The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources."

Part of me is relieved by this thought that those who seem so far ahead of me in art, thought, and originality are, in fact, really just presenting their own interpretation of the combination of influences in their life that had inspired them to create. Artistic thievery. Genius ;)

But on the other hand, I do not want to be a photo copy of others, while masking myself under originality. I want to offer something new. If not for others, than at least for myself so that I can lay my head on my pillow each night and know that my journey is special, different, original.

See, there is this fire in me. Silly, I know, but it's there, and I feel it right in the center of my being. It's small now, not much brighter or more heated than a candle, but it's biding it's time, just waiting to ignite. And I know that I know that I KNOW, it's going to blow even me away.

And I ache for the moment when I will step back in complete amazement and whisper, "This is what I was made for."

An ongoing thought...

It all proves difficult to conclude. I rearview past chapters of my life, and I'm convinced that my spirit well is drying up. Once, I had travelled through tides of creativity and conviction, vision and purpose, on what I thought was a progressive journey. Yet every stage is a simple remnant of the last, and now, at the age of nearly twenty-three, I find myself almost completely regressed. Or worse, maybe I've just been standing still. I cannot decide which is more terrifying.

Uncertainty is alway reliable. Ironic and cliche, yes, yet true. I cannot tell you my perspectives on God, because my conclusions concerning Him are hard to come by. And I certainly do no know what I believe about myself. What inkling I may have of the truth of my own existence is merely this damned inability to produce life. This fruitlessness; this drab, colorless dress, too large and awkward for my body, with crooked stitching and a wrinkled collar. Loveless, selfish, broken, obstinate, ignorant, etc. Dissatisfied and dissatisfying. And so, I leave myself with a suffocating unwillingness to dismiss the imperfections I display. There is no release. There is no relief.

I know this: I need to breathe in icy cold. I need to drain this puss from my thoughts, this muck and blood and poison, and fill my soul with fresh, cool summer rain.

Please, let it rain.

Never Give In.

"You cannot tell from appearances how things will go. Sometimes imagination makes things out far worse than they are; yet without imagination not much can be done. Those people who are imaginative see many more dangers than perhaps exist; certainly many more than will happen; but then they must also pray to be given that extra courage to carry this far-reaching imagination. But for everyone, surely, this is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never - in nothing, great or small, large or petty - never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy."

-Winston Churchill

a brave man.

I come from a family of beauticians. I, myself, am not a beautician, in any sense of the word. I can barely apply my own mascara correctly. But, having watched my mother cut hair all of my life, and seen my sisters get into similar professions, I thought I'd test my hair styling skills on Noffy! 

He looks fantastic with a faux-hawk, which he discovered when a good friend in Kansas City styled it. So I figured I'd try my luck (or his) and cut it similarly. My teacher, of course: YOUTUBE! I used the crappiest pair of haircutting scissors in existence, which were probably closer to kindergarden scissors than anything else! We had an electric clipper handy, 'cause we were pretty certain it wasn't going to turn out that great, but it actually ended up looking WAY better than expected! There was only one little "whoopsie" that forced us to buzz it, otherwise it would have looked awesome!

The "BEFORE" and "AFTER"

The reason the cut didn't end up working out was because of how I cut the left side (pictured left). Instead of combing the hair forward and cutting with the direction of his jaw, like I had successfully done on the right side (pictured right), I forgot what I was doing and cut straight out, making it all choppy.

Sooooo... since the cut was not a complete success, we decided to have a little fun with the clippers!

And the finished product! Honestly, I had a more difficult time with the clippers than I did with cutting! Those things are scary!

For now, we'll let it grow out so I can practice again! ;)

(P.S. This is the video I used.)

Let's express ourselves.

There is nothing that has not been previously expressed. No form of art that has not been already created, whether known or unknown, popular or mocked. There is no idea that has not been conjured up. No paint stroke that has not already caressed the easel. No angle that has not been shot.  No musical progression that has not been heard by somebody, anybody! No words that have no been penned. No lyric that has not been sung. No emotion that has not been felt and poured out. No nook, no cranny, no hidden corners of artistic expression that have not been swept clean.

So seem to be my sentiments, and discouragements.
What new declaration of beauty could I possibly contribute?

And still, sappy as it may sound...

There are still trees that have not been climb. There are still fields that have not been laid in. Sunsets that have not yet been seen. Still amends that have yet to be made. Flowers that have not been admired. There are still countries which have not yet known peace. Families who have not yet been fed. Coffee that has yet to be brewed. Babies who have yet to be comforted. Children who are yet to be taught. Nooks, crannies, and hidden corners of creation that are yet to be beheld. Bottom line...

There are people who are yet to be loved.

So, I'm not completely sure that I want the art I create to make an impact. No...

I want the impact I create to BE art!