A Dream Is A Wish

A dream is a wish your heart makes, or so Disney tries to tell me. However, last night, I dreamed that I became friends with an alligator. Hmmm. Not exactly first on my list of wishes. I also dreamed that I killed a snake by cutting of its head with a whip. I don't even have a whip! And I don't like seeing snakes. And what about nightmares? How are those wishes? Umm, I guess I wish that would never ever happen.

Wait. I think I may have an explanation! I really wanted to find one, because I really enjoy Disney songs and I don't like to find problems with them. I prefer to find the profound statements within them, and there are many profound statements. Just really listen to a few sometime. Anyway, back to my explanation. A DAYdream is a wish your heart makes. And today I have been daydreaming. Oh boy, have I been daydreaming.

My friend introduced me to this incredible site called Polyvore, where people have imported pictures of clothing items online. It's like online shopping at every store possible all at once. Amazing! I type in what I'm looking for and dozens, hundreds, thousands of results pop up and I can go through, place some on my design board, take them off, resize them, etc. I get to design my own outfits! So, right now, my daydreams include an incredibly awesome pair of green high heels, and some gorgeous bracelets. (pictured below)

Sadly, my daydreams are much too expensive. My wishes will drift off aimlessly into the open abyss that captures all dreams and eventually turns them into forgetfulness. *sigh*

Wall Jumping Queen

I have now been dubbed the Wall Jumping Queen. Woohoo! I fought long and hard to earn this title. Fortunately, it was well worth the effort. I could admit to performing spectacular physical feats such as the ones I saw on Wipeout tonight, or I could claim that I regularly wall jump in somewhat of the same manner as Spiderman. But I won't. Because I got my new title from my uncanny ability to keep Super Mario from falling down crevices by bumping into walls and bouncing back up to where he was supposed to be. He falls, I frantically move my Wii controller and press buttons, and he bounces his way back out again, usually to fall into the next crevice and have the previous motions repeated.

Doesn't stuff always happen like that? Just about the time I work out all the problems and get out of a situation, I plop myself right back into a new one that is just as, if not more, difficult than the one I was just in. I think they call it, "jumping from the frying pan into the fire" . . .

So how do you defeat the epidemic of the wall jumps? It should be as easy as snagging that penguin suit at the beginning of the level and letting Mario slide his way through the crevices and problems. But in real life . . . I think Bible study would have to be the protective penguin coat I'm searching for. With God on your side, you aren't free and clear, but you seem to slide through the hard times a little easier. He'll give you the necessary support to finish your 'level' of trial. And perseverance. I know I don't do things perfectly the first time through. I usually have to fail and try several times before I get something right. But a just man falls seven times and still gets up again. Keep on trying!

I don't mean to downplay trials or the importance of including Christ and the Bible in your everyday walk. But I think we can learn somethings from video games sometimes. Today, I learned what it means to wall jump. Tomorrow, who knows? I eagerly await a tutorial session with the Super Mario.

If anyone sees me trying to spring jump against a wall tomorrow, just ignore me. I'll fail soon enough.

Cracking the Code

At the end of last semester, I made up a big list of things that I wanted to accomplish/experience this summer. I pulled up that list for the first time this summer...last week. Yes. As good of a memory as I may have, it was not good enough to help me remember all my goals. Out of my list of 12 big things, I had a whole two of them done. Would you like to guess what they were? *silence* *crickets chirping* Ok. I will tell you instead.

1. Get a tan
2. Keep up with Summer Snapshots

First of all, my tan is not really anything to write home about. The little kids I hang out with are all more brown than I. Plus, I'm just opening myself up to skin cancer. Score! Second of all, I just really enjoy blogging, so that wasn't even a real goal.

My other goals included things like completing my resume, having consistent devotions, and earning bukus of money for next semester. All of those are somewhat being worked on, but nowhere near being accomplished.

However. I have some news. It's big news. It's HUGE news. It's so cool, I'm practically leaping out my chair with glee as I think about it! I accomplished another goal just tonight! And it is one of those goals that I never really thought I would finish. My list reads: learn one new skill. Well, guess what? I learned to work with HTML code!! For any computer illiterates, it just means computer code. Lots of words and punctuations that made no sense to me about an hour and a half ago.

But wait! There's more! Not only did I learn to use said code, I used my new knowledge to set up a second blog (very nerdy, I know) for me to continue writing about traveling to Belgium for chocolate-tasting. I'm rather happy with how it turned out :) The blog address is
http://mareena-tasteandsee.blogspot.com/

No, I did not get my whole summer list checked off, but I have about one month left. And with such inspiration as mastering HTML code, I'm ready to conquer this last month and get stuff done!

Power

It's me, not my imagination this time. I have news for you. I have the power! Well, as this blog's creator, I have the power to move it (which I have already done), delete it (which I'm not going to), rename it (which I will have to do once the summer is over), or split it into two blogs (which I am in the process of doing). You see, I really enjoy my imagination, but I also enjoy sharing about real stuff that I'm thinking about. So instead of having confusing switches between me and my imagination, I'm going to make my imagination its own blog. Very accommodating, aren't I?

By tomorrow, my imagination will have its own blogging address. I'll post it so that you'll be able to follow it all the way to Belgium and wherever else my imagination might take me.

Veering into reality, the Lord was really trying to get my attention today. In Sunday school, I was convicted of my selfishness. All I could think was, what if I died right after college? What would I have to show for it other than just a degree? Not that a degree is something to sneeze at, but in eternity, what is God going to do with an accounting degree? *think, think, think* Oh right. Nothing. I don't want to have wasted my college years doing my own thing and missing out on opportunities to serve.

Then in the evening service, my pastor preached an excellent message on Christ teaching the disciples about compassion. I never thought of the feeding of the 4,000 as Christ's way to teach compassion, but it was. We have to use what we have (the 7 loaves), we have to use all we have, and we have to use only what we have. I can't wait around until I feel like I have all the talent necessary to minister. I need to see the needs of right now and figure out how I can meet them. But the hardest part is not the action. I can force myself to see needs and meet them, but only Christ can give me a spirit of compassion for others. I spend so much time worrying about what I need to be satisfied or happy and I don't even stop to think about anyone else. Selfishness. Ick. I'm disgusted at myself right about now.

Game plan for the week: Pray for eyes to see the needs of others. Pray for a heart of compassion. Pray for the willingness to meet the needs. And then do it.

A Thump in the Night

"Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall." This is true. But my pride usually goeth (flees, runs away, is lost) after my fall. And mortified. I'm not sure of the exact definition, but looking at it's root word, I think it means... death would be better than what just happened because it was that embarrassing.

I woke up in Paris airport this morning. Correction: I woke up on the floor of the Paris airport this morning, staring up into the face of my mysterious follower. I realized that I must have fallen of my chair and I could feel myself starting to blush, so I quickly tried to right myself and just get off the floor. You know how I was using my purse as a pillow? It had fallen with me and had decided to become entangled around my neck and arms. To add to my predicament, my right leg had fallen asleep and refused to move when I told it to. When I tried to raise myself up, my neck and my arms were stuck together and slammed back to the floor, but not before I almost broke the nose of the guy looking down at me with a worried look on his face. At the same time, I was trying to command my legs to move, but only the left was listening, leaving me helplessly squirming on the floor. Mortified. I ceased to move, closed my eyes, and hoped he would leave me for dead.

I waited for a few seconds and then peeked a glance out of one eye. Groan. He was still standing there.

"Would you mind turning around?" I pleaded.

"Are you sure you don't need some help?" He really did look worried about my predicament.

"NO! I mean, I just need to regain my wits and my dignity, thanks."

Graciously, he turned his back on me, but he seemed unwilling to leave me for very long. He probably assumed I would only become more entangled and he needed to stick around. I pounded my right leg on the floor a few times to get the blood circulating, slowly untangled myself from my villainous handbag strap, and pulled myself into my chair. Sigh of relief. He glanced behind his shoulder to find my situated and looking like I was never on the floor of the airport. He grabbed and his bag and then just, left. Now I could feel myself blushing. I sank into my chair and wished for it to really be a portal into Narnia. Or anywhere that was not right here. But instead of Narnia, the restrooms seemed to call to me instead. I needed to brush my teeth in the worst way.

To my surprise, he was back when I returned. And he was back with coffee and breakfast. For two. And he had bacon. I can't resist bacon. It's just a fact of life. So I thanked him for my bacon, egg, and cheese croissant and promptly scarfed it down in a ladylike manner. By the time I finished, it was time to head to my gate and get ready to board my plane to Brussels. I was pretty ready for some real rest and relaxation and of course, chocolate.

So now only one flight stands in between me and the rest of my vacation. You know the drill, it's time for me to pack away my computer and prepare for take-off. I have a lovely window seat this time. Perhaps I'll see the Eiffel Tower from the sky.

Oh, and his name is Rick.

Paris

Here I am in Paris, France, the land of the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and fashion. No, this is not my final destination. I'm trying to catch my connecting flight to Belgium, which consequently, I did not catch. Apparently, my flight from Atlanta to Paris was delayed due to changing wind patterns, storms over the Pacific, and other mumbo jumbo that the airlines have used to sugarcoat the fact that I am in Paris for the night, but stuck in the airport. Did you hear that? I'm in one of the most beautiful, cultural cities in the world for longer than I expected, and yet, I am stuck in the airport till tomorrow morning at9:55. It's hard to see life through rose-colored glasses at a time like this.

I am slightly optimistic, because I just happened to find a certain alcove in this airport where they had some comfortable leather chairs. Score! I am now set up with wifi, my bags are safely at my feet, and I'm situated in just the right spot to read and later curl up and sleep, hopefully.

I am slightly pessimistic though, because the same man who deemed it necessary to speak to me on the plane also has a hideous habit of turning up wherever I am. He is now sitting in the same alcove as me in a chair similar to my own. Now I feel guilty about writing about him when he's sitting right there, less than 6 feet away. I'm going to study him for a while.

Here's what I've figured out. He is, in fact, very good-looking. A few years older than me, perhaps his late 20's, early 30's. He possesses a fine head of dark hair and he definitely did not shave before he hopped on the plane this morning. I can't tell you what color his eyes are. They are at this moment conveniently closed. Otherwise I would not be studying him. How rude. But I wonder why he's here. Perhaps he too filled out a small internet survey and is on his way to Belgium. Or maybe he is a world traveling salesman who sells hair gel. Or someone's husband traveling across Europe for business (scratch that idea. no ring on his finger). Or maybe he is just trying to get where he's going without too much fuss, but just like me, he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be. This isn't good. I can't start feeling pity for someone I don't even know, who I invented a story for! Oh no. He's opening his eyes. Should I say something?

Me: (moment of awkward silence as I debate saying something)

Him: Hello, it seems as though we always seem to end up in the same places.

Me: Yeah. (real intelligent, I know)

Him: I'm sorry if it looks as if I'm following you. You just happened to find one of the only comfortable spots in the whole airport.

Me: Oh, no, I'm sure you're not following me on purpose. And these are fairly comfy chairs. They even have some bounce to them.

Him: (small chuckle) Yes. Hopefully they'll be good enough to sleep on for the night. My plane doesn't leave till 9:55 tomorrow morning.

Me: Oh really? Where are you headed? Because that's when my flight leaves too. (Stop giving out information like that!)

Him: Belgium. and you?

Me: The same. I hear they have wonderful chocolate there.

Him: Oh yes. They do have delicious chocolate. My sister will often send some to me, since she lives there.

Me: (He has a good reason for going to Belgium. Interesting.) That must be nice. I'm sure it will be pleasant to visit her. (a small smile)

Him: It's been 4 years since I've seen her, so it will be good to be together again.
. . . You look tired. Perhaps we should both get some sleep?

Me: (trying not to mind that he just insulted me by telling me I look tired...but, I am tired) I have figured out that my purse can actually be made into somewhat of a pillow. Sadly, I have no extra purse to offer to you. I hope you're still able to get some rest.

He smiles and then we both turn to settle ourselves in for the night. The lights are going off in the airport, and I think I may be able to get some sleep. I check my phone one more time. No texts, although I never thought to check if I even get service here. As I'm about to close my eyes, I realize I don't even know the name of my mysterious follower. Hmmmm. *yawn*

Imagination Continued

I'm going to continue into my imagination as I travel to Belgium, because I'm sure you are all wondering why I am going to such a place. Plus I'm having fun telling a possibly exciting story.

*note* if you have not read the post 'Here I Am', go read that one first! Otherwise the story would be backward. And reading stories backwards is cheating. Don't even get me started on those people who read the last few pages of a book before they've read the rest. It is a sign of impatience and low moral character!! If the author wanted you to know the end before everything else they would've just put it at the beginning! *cough* humph. Back to the story. Happy, imaginative thoughts...

Here I am, cruising above the clouds in my own row. How lucky am I? No screaming children that you always hear about, no chatty older women (I love them, but this is an overnight flight and I would like to sleep), no one falling asleep on your shoulder, and no one to block the exit route to the bathroom. The last is especially important because they just came through with the drinks. I am very pleased with my cranberry juice/Sprite mixture.

Oh right. Back to why I'm headed to Belgium. It all started with a desire to search out the best chocolate in the world. I immediately headed to Google and typed in 'best chocolate in the world'. Actually, I mistyped it to begin with and it came out 'nrdy vhovolsr in yhr eotlf'. I had placed my hands one key off, so it sounded like I had a mouthful of chocolate while I was trying to figure out what I was searching. Surprisingly, even Google couldn't match any pages with that jumble. I straightened out my hands and got out my real search. One of the suggestions at the bottom said "did you mean, best belgian chocolate in the world"? Well, no. That wasn't what I meant, but hey, those Belgians must know something about chocolate.

I begin searching for Belgian chocolate. Little did I know that Belgian chocolate would come searching for me. One of the sights had a pop-up survey for you to fill out about the website. Usually I just close out of those, but for some reason, I really had liked the site. So I filled it out. But I didn't know that it immediately entered me into a sweepstakes for a 2 week vacation in Belgiam. Apparently no one fills those little surveys out, because somehow, as you may have guessed, I WON! Weird, right? Let that be a lesson to you: always fill out the annoying surveys. I can't promise a trip to Belgium will always be the result though.

That's how I got here, on a free flight to a free stay in Belgium. I'm going to be taste-testing some of the best chocolate in the world!

Why does that tall, dark-haired guy keep walking by my row? You can only go to the bathroom so many times. And when I have to go to the bathroom, I don't stop by to chat with strangers. Which is exactly what he did. Asked where I was headed. I told him, "Europe". Hopefully he gets that hint. Buddy, I don't know what your game is, but my bubble is not only for physical distance, but also auditory silence. Stay out of my bubble! I'm going to sleep now, at least until we land in France. Then I have a few hours to spend before my connecting flight to Brussels. Night ya'll. Where's my pillow?

Here I Am!

I've got a brand-new web address and a brand-new look, but it's still the same blog! And the same girl. I feel like a commercial for new food packaging, "New look! Same GREAT taste!" Now I wouldn't call this blog GREAT, but I am getting rather attached to it.

I've been reading through some other blog posts today, and I have to tell you that I feel rather boring. Some people write about how they travel the world, and I'm writing about how I stay in one place! To each his own, but if I had a choice, I think I would be traveling the world. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to take a page from the book (show) of the Backyardigans and I'm going to use my imagination...

*happy music to show transition, entering the world of imagination...now*

I wake up early to finish throwing the last few items into my suitcase. I'm prepared all right. I've been writing lists of what to bring ever since I found out I was leaving for Belgium 3 weeks ago. I even wrote more than one, because the possibilities of my losing one of them are rather high. I go over my extensive checklist one more time. -- clothes enough to last me 2 weeks in between laundry days, check. Shampoo and conditioner, check. Chocolate, scratched off the list (I'm going to be in Belgium for goodness' sake! They have chocolate named after their country. They should have some available). At least 5 books, check. Hand sanitizer, check. One amazing dress to wear if I find the man of my dreams, check. Laptop to use for updates, check. Camera, check. Toothbrush, oops.

I hop over to my bathroom to grab my toothbrush and see my message to myself written on the mirror. "Don't forget your passport!" Thank goodness I thought to do that the night before. I call a taxi and hurry myself off to the airport because my flight leaves in, Yikes! 45 min.

Security isn't as much of a nightmare as usual, but I always feel uncomfortable about taking off my shoes. Do they know what kind of germs live on floors? I doubt it. They only have thoughts for the task at hand, robbing me of my dignity. I want to turn and congratulate them on a job well done, but I'm in a hurry. I run to my gate just as they begin boarding. All goes well. My carry-on baggage is just the right size. Secret: I carry a really big purse. As long as you're willing to have it take over your feet space, the airlines don't mind at all.

I find my seat and sit down, preparing myself for the horror, excuse me, delightful person that will soon sit next to me. No one seems to find the seat beside me very interesting. One tall man with a 5 o'clock shadow and dark hair does look pointedly at the numbers on the overhead bins, but eventually moves on. Miracles do happen! I am ruler of this row.

I suppose you're wondering why I'm going to Belgium. It's an interesting story . . . Oh no. The plane is about to leave and all electronics must be turned off. I'll fill you in after we're airborne. Nothing like a long flight overseas to give you time to explain!

To the Right of Godliness

What a scintillating title. I’m sure it has fascinated you, captured you, invited you in, and now you can’t help but read this post. Or you’re just bored and you needed something to do. But you’re still reading this post no matter what you’re reason! *evil laughter* Precisely what I planned.

Alright. Back to that goofy title. To the Right of Godliness is …. (drumroll please!)

CLEANLINESS!!!! Did you guess it?

I’m will admit it. I have not done a good job of cleaning up my dorm room this semester. Nothing terrible, but I’m of the shove-and-hide persuasion of cleaning. Our dorm supervisor has been leaving notes for us all summer asking us to clean up. I would clean up after she would leave a note, but the room always looked a little, well, undone. Suddenly, 1 of my 2 roommates decides to move next door with her friend who is all alone. Suddenly, I have a desk, a whole dresser, another closet, and …. demerits. Yes. My dorm sup had deemed it necessary to give us a little written encouragement to keep our room clean. I don’t blame her at all. In fact — if I was her– I would’ve been slapping demerits on us just about every day! “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction”. (I still remember high school science!) Action: Demerits. Reaction: I have a mission. Clean the room, use some of the extra space, and just make it look good!

I did. I cleaned, straightened, scrubbed, vacuumed, threw out, rearranged, stacked, moved, and just whipped that room into shape. And this is how I know that cleanliness is next to godliness. Because when I woke up this morning, I felt like sitting in my clean room and having devotions. And when I got to work, the memory of the cleanliness and godliness is brightening my day and making me feel very joyful inside. I believe I will have to keep my room clean on a more consistent basis.

Secret Agent ... Kid

My children will someday be fluent in English by age 4, Arabic by age 6, Spanish by age 8, Chinese by 11. They will all take some type of martial art, gymnastics, and be able to dance if needed. They will read a wide array of books and learn about cultures around the world. They will be highly trained in many areas. They will be introduced to real heroes, who have sacrificed to save their country and the world. In short, they will be the next Spy Kids, but on a whole new level.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I am going to have such accomplished children. I’m wondering somewhat of the same thing, but where there is a will, there is a way. I may not be Ironman, but I do have an iron will.

First, I need to find someone who shares my dream for very accomplished, highly trained children. That’s not really first date material, but I’m sure it will come up eventually. It might help if he was in some kind of dangerous occupation to begin with. Then he might be more inclined to that area of expertise.

Second, I need to find an old family friend, preferably British and very cultured, to hang around my children. He would be able to get my kids interested in things outside the house. Well, if he’s going to be an old family friend, I best get busy finding him right about now. Oh yes. He can also teach them to drive. And he’ll be rich, so perfect for those trips to Europe and Asia he’ll be giving as rewards for good grades.

Third, I need to have a bit of culture myself. A language or two, some foreign business experience, design classes, and sewing classes. Why sewing class you ask? That’s simple. Someone has to be able to make their disguises. And the design classes are simply so that I can become their forger. Messy work when you have to take it outside the family.

Fourth, find the perfect location to raise such a family. I was thinking maybe a deserted island, but that tends to cut out the number of acceptable schools. They could be homeschooled, but they really need to be in town for the benefit of the masters. I also considered a large metropolis like New York or Atlanta. There would be a wide array of schools and professionals to teach them, but I’m afraid that could get a little bit hectic. I think we will have to settle in France. Lots of culture over there and I’ve heard that they can use accountants over there. So my job market would be secure, my children would receive culture, they would also have to learn French, I could learn to cook, and so many different countries surround France. And it wouldn’t be too much of a transplant for our old family friend. He wouldn’t have to cross the ‘pond’, only the Channel.

I’ve heard this crazy old saying about how parents tend to want to live out their dreams through their children. How absurd. Did I want to be a spy as child? It’s hard to sa..YES. I admit it. I can hear some of you now, protesting about what a horrible life this would be a child. Are you thinking clearly? They would be spies! Enough said. And all super spy families have a special bond with each other. And even if they don’t choose to become spies, they will have a considerable -foot-in-the-door with whatever life path they choose. But they will decide to become spies. How could they choose any differently? Spies look cool.

Juni and Carmen, watch your back. The next generation is coming.

Taffy Pull Trials

Haven’t you ever wondered how things came about? Like, who was the first person to look at a cow and say, “I’m going to drink whatever comes out of those when I squeeze ‘em” …? (thank you, Calvin & Hobbes). Well, saltwater taffy has become somewhat of a tradition at work this summer. It seems as though everyone brings it back whenever they go on a trip. Which made me wonder, who invented taffy? And how do you make it?

Insert a Google search. Skip the history, I just want to know how to make it. It seemed simple enough, so I had the brilliant idea that our office should get together and have a good old-fashioned taffy pull! Sounds fun, right?

Note to all taffy-pullin’ hopefuls out there: Taffy is HOT. The recipe will say, “the taffy will be hot, so handle carefully.” What it should say is, “the taffy will BURN your hands!!! It is very very HOT. Es muy muy CALIENTE. Tres tres CHAUD. Es war sehr sehr HEISS. No matter how you translate it, it still means THE TAFFY IS FLAMIN’ HOT. Got it?

Well, even through the huffs and puffs and blowing on of hands (sounds like some kind of ritual), we had a load of fun! However, we never actually made taffy. We made burnt brown rocks the first time. You can’t overcook taffy. Second time around, it was actually pretty! A lovely pink shade actually, and it had a light peppermint flavor as well. But it still was slightly overcooked, so instead of taffy, it was hard candy. We pulled and pulled, taking frequent rests to re-butter our hands and let them cool off, but in the end it still hardened up.

But here’s what we figure, if we can go from burnt to edible after only two times, we will definitely have taffy the next time. Third time’s a charm!

So go for it! Google taffy, find out its history, a recipe, and plan your own taffy-pull! Plan for at least 3-4 trial runs though. Although, you might just be an expert and get it right on the first time…you’ll never know unless you try!

and remember the thing about it being hot. oh, excuse me. VERY VERY HOT.

Showers of Blessing

Critical weather update for Greenville, SC: Severe thunderstorms with torrential downpours expected on Sunday night.

Change from church clothes into basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Forget shoes. Grab ID card. Run outside. Run past window of dorm room to wave at laughing roommate. Blink the water out of the eyes. Laugh. See other friend. Try not to get her wet. Run into the biggest puddles possible. Run in more puddles. Kick up feet. Run inside and drip on carpet.

As I was running through the rainstorm, the Lord brought this song to mind

There shall be showers of blessing;
This is the promise of love;
There shall be seasons refreshing,
Sent from the Saviour above.

Chorus:
Showers of blessing.
Showers of blessing we need;
Mercy drops round us are falling,
But for the showers we plead.

There shall be showers of blessing,
Precious reviving again;
Over the hills and the valleys,
Sound of abundance of rain.

There shall be showers of blessing,
Send them upon us, O Lord;
Grant to us now a refreshing;
Come, and now honour Thy Word.

There shall be showers of blessing
Oh, that to-day they might fall,
Now, as to God we’re confessing,
Now as on Jesus we call.

There shall be showers of blessing,
If we but trust and obey;
There shall be seasons refreshing,
If we let God have His way.

There shall be showers of blessing. Thank you, Lord

Out of Ideas

I spent all day trying to find a place for my friend Emily to stay while she’s here next weekend, and I’ve come with a total of zero places. Zero. I once heard that zero is a placeholder, but clearly, it’s not holding any places around Greenville. Every idea I came up with today was quickly shot down. And there were a lot of ideas! One by one they all tumbled down, like little Humpty Dumptys sitting on the wall of possibility only to fall and crack on the cement of reality.

I dream up plans faster than most kids dream up excuses, which is why I am so shocked at my slump. If this situation were freshman year, I would have repeated it 13x and still failed! I think my brain has malfunctioned. That’s it. I would return it and demand a refund, but I can’t find the receipt.

Discouragement is like coffee. No matter how much you try to sugarcoat it, it still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. My sugar comes in the form of humor and my cream looks something like metaphors. But I still have the bitter taste of discouragement lingering in my mouth. I need to brush my teeth.

Sacrifice

I can’t claim to be a model Christian. I’m not even sure I can claim to be an average Christian. But I do claim to be a Christian. I more than claim. I claim, I know, I rejoice that I am a Christian. God is so much more than I could ever want or need. Trying to wrap my head around the sacrifice that Christ has made on my behalf usually ends up giving me a headache, but also a sincere gratitude for Him. That said, I have a question for you, and for me as well.

What are you willing to sacrifice to have Christ?

I’m not just talking about extreme cases such as those who have given their lives for Christ like Jim Elliott, although that is definitely something to consider. I’m thinking more of the everyday things that I put up in front of God. Things like: my reputation, my education, my time, and my friends. Could I sacrifice those things for Christ? All of these represent things that I gather around me to make me comfortable and happy. Not that any of them are bad. They just take the place of something more important, and possibly take up too much of my life.

Imagine a large balance. A close relationship with Christ occupies one side. Your reputation, your time, and your friends sit on the other. Which side weighs more in your life?

Without all of those things, I should still be content in Christ. What is anything in light of eternity and Christ’s sacrifice? But again and again, I choose to put other things before Christ and load up my side of the balance. His side remains sadly untouched. I put more into keeping my side up to date and lookin’ good, than I do into my relationship with Christ. It’s time to have some stuff step down and start putting more on the line for Christ.

Dental Hygiene

Now, don’t stop reading just because of the title. I promise that I’m talking about the joys of dental hygiene and not the downfalls. Really. I promise. Swear upon my dying breath. Dying breath, not bad breath.

First, dental hygiene is expensive! My gracious. I just wanted a toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss. I got the two-pack toothbrush because I thought it was a deal, but the price I thought it was was 1/2 of what it actually was. Floss is ridiculous as well. But the cheapest way to go was to get the really cool flossing sticks so that your hands don’t get in the way of the floss, because my mouth is only so big.

Second, I had to make a big decision: what toothpaste do I choose? My usual is just Crest Original. It’s minty, it tastes good, and it’s pretty cheap (especially in a Value Pack). But I was feeling adventurous last night, so I considered different options.

1. Crest

2. The cool toothpaste that combines mouthwash flakey things and toothpaste

3. Princess Bubblegum toothpaste or

4. The new foaming gel Aquafresh that whitens teeth and cleans out plaque between teeth

… and the winner waaaaassssss, Aquafresh!!

So now my teeth are just begging to be brushed. I ripped open my toothbrushes, chose the blue one, and opened the lid to my new Aquafresh. After struggling with the pump top, I finally squirted a reasonable amount onto my brush and shoved it into my mouth. Two words for you: FOAMING EXPLOSION. It was amazing. I mean, I could feel it eradicating germs from my mouth. It was so foamy, I looked rabid (log information away for possible pranks later).

Top that experience off with cool floss sticks and glass of water, and my mouth was one happy place. You know all of this has to be pretty life changing, because I’m blogging about brushing my teeth. And by the way, my teeth are looking whiter already. *brilliant smile of blazing whiteness*

Half Empty

We all remember when everyone had to figure out if they were optimistic or pessimistic, so they started the tests like, writing a line of text on unlined paper to see if it sloped up or down or the infamous half-full/half-empty glass of water. What an eye opener. I figured out that it depended on my purpose in drinking the water. If I was super thirsty and wanted the water, it was half empty, and if I was being forced to drink the water before I could leave the table, then it was half full.

Make sense? It all depends on what I wanted. If I wanted the water, then I was sad to see it gone. If I didn’t want the water, it seemed like it would never end.

Ok. Now I’m going to take that small spark of enlightenment and talk about the fact that the midpoint of my summer is here. Dilemma, dilemma!! Where did my summer go? And what about all those goals I had for the summer?? Trust me, I had a lot of goals. So far, I…finished my summer class. And that’s about it. If this summer was a cup of water, I’m really thirsty, but someone poked their thumb into the bottom of my cup and now all my water is draining out too fast for me to drink it. So unfair. My summer is definitely half over, not half begun.

I’m determined to take back my summer and get things done! But I can’t do it alone. Most of the reason I’ve lost my summer is because I didn’t give it away to God first. So, starting now, on the first day of July, my summer has been taken out of my hands. So my hands aren’t only half empty, they’re completely empty. Just how they should be. That makes me supremely optimistic.

Lizzie

I just finished reading Pride & Prejudice. It is an excellent book, and I must say that I never relate to any character as well as I relate to Elizabeth Bennet. Maybe that is simply vanity, because she is such an admired heroine, but there are several of her qualities and attitudes that I find in myself. Such as…

She enjoys speaking her mind. She makes quick decisions about people and bases her attitude upon that decision. Some may call that prejudice. hmmm. She is reasonable enough to consider something and realize that she is, indeed, wrong. She is extremely loyal to those she loves. She enjoys reading. She plays piano, but not very well because she should have practiced more. She is convinced that nothing but the deepest love will persuade her into matrimony. And she dearly loves to laugh…check, check, check, aaaand check. Yep, those could all describe me.

Maybe I’m just dreaming, because doesn’t everyone want to be Lizzie if for no other fact than that she marries Mr. Darcy in the end? She meets him, practically despises him, lets him know her feelings in very direct manners, and still, he falls in love with her. Yes, I would like to be Lizzie.

So, I will endeavor to take many walks as Lizzie did, and eventually I’ll meet someone I despise. One can only hope.

“And yet I meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided a dislike to him, without any reason. It is a spur to one’s genius, such an opening for wit to have a dislike of that kind. One may be continually abusive without saying anything just; but one cannot be always laughing at a man without now and then stumbling on something witty.”

Time Heals

Time heals all wounds. I’ve heard this many times, and I just now thought about it for a while. A dangerous pastime I’m told, but I prefer thinking to many things.

Time is a somewhat relative term, but we all understand it, so I won’t go into the details on that subject. Wounds, however, are not as easily understand as one might think. There are many types: physical, slight, serious, emotional, mental. My question is, are all of them healed by time?

I would like to think so. When I scraped half of my foot off about 3 weeks ago, it would have made me extremely happy to just let it go as it was and let it heal itself. When I had knee surgery, sitting in bed and taking pain medication seemed like the path of least resistance. When a friend is offended by no direct fault on my part, I prefer to just wait until they want to figure it out and get over it. When my grandma died, I would have liked to just find a room in which I could sit alone and cry. My philosophy tends to be that things will work themselves out eventually. If I let things go on their schedule and heal themselves, they eventually will.

But hopefully, you thinking like me and have figured out that this is not the case. As much as I am loathe to admit it, my way is not the best way. Sure, time is a great healer. It gives wounds a chance to breathe and mend without the direct involvement of something that may prove to be harmful. But if time heals all wounds, then doctors of any sort would not exist. If I had left my foot alone to its own devices, no doubt it would have turned on me and gotten infected or something equally as ungrateful. If I had indefinitely laid in bed after my knee surgery, I would have missed out on therapy and weakened my knee for the rest of my life. If I let friends become offended with me, and don’t seek to heal the relationship in an active way, I could lose a friend. If I had sat alone in a room after my grandma passed away, I would have missed all the love and sympathy that I received from my family, and held back all the love and care that I gave to my family.

I admit that I wasn’t sure of my conclusion when I started writing. I am now though. Writing about random thoughts does give them a definite pattern and concrete conclusion. Time does not heal all wounds as some claim, but it does give ample space for thinking. So…Time, I thank you for your help in my coming to a conclusion, but I will not be relying on you to heal anything in the near future.

Untitled, Unedited, and Just Barely Started

A storm was gathering. She could feel it with each gust of wind and see it within the gathering of clouds. The sky repented of its lazy shine and turned a reproaching eye towards the land, staring it down with its dark, somber gaze. She could feel the excitement build inside her as she breathed in the scent of the storm. Such a feeling could only exist at this moment, this point of turning, right before the sky unleashed its anger. Some might feel fear, but Erica only felt anticipation and a yearning for this moment to hold her in its clutches forever. Her mount sidestepped beneath, channeling the feelings of his rider. Erica leaned forward to stroke his neck and reassure him in soothing tones. A crack of thunder undid all her ministrations and with a bolt, they were off. Erica grasped the reins and lifted her face to the sky as the droplets of water came rushing towards her. The wind whipped furiously, urging her steed forward, even faster than before. With the look of mischief in her eyes that her mother had learned to dread, Erica dropped the reins and held her hands out to the sky, gathering in as much of the storm as possible. She was reaching out to be a part of the storm for it was truly magnificent. The tight grip of her knees was the only thing keeping her in the saddle as the pair of them, horse and rider, raced past the fields surrounding her home. Brown waves of hair slashed against her face with the wind, and just as quickly gathered behind her head as the wind furiously switched directions. The rain fell harder now, stinging the skin that was unprotected by her dark cloak. Embracing the storm, she stretched her arms wider and threw her head back once more. Laughter poured from her and rose into the storm, only to be whipped into nothingness as the pounding of hooves and heavy breathing of her mount reached Erica’s ears. And just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. The wind ceased to roar and the clouds withheld their rain.

One deep, regretful breath, and Erica was once again herself. No wild impulses or unrestrained thought. Pushing her hair under her cloak, Erica gathered up the reins into one hand and slowed her horse to a stop. They were home.

So there is the beginning of a story. I’ve always wanted to start one right in the thick of a storm. It seems like the best time for creativity…

Satisfied

I just went to work out! Here’s how this deed came about…

I thought to myself, “Mareena, when will you ever have a complete gym that doesn’t cost anything within walking distance for a whole summer?” and then of course I answered myself because it’s only polite. I responded, “Never again after this summer!” Why had this never occurred to me before? Well, technically, it had. But I just never really acted on it. Tonight I did though.

Exercising is strange. It’s one of those things that I always think of with disdain, but when I actually go and do it, I come back with the best feeling in the world. It’s that feeling where you know that you’ve done something worthwhile with your time, plus exercising gives you endorphins and endorphins make you happy. Therfore, I just feel happy. So, this winds back around to me wondering why I disdain exercise. And it is because exercise is hard. Sometimes it hurts, and as a normal human being I do not relish pain. And my feeble mind tends to forget the satisfying feeling of doing something purposeful.

There are a lot of things like exercise. Schoolwork is one. It’s hard, but after I’m finished with a big history of civilization test and it is no longer hanging over my head, I feel a ton better. I feel even better after I get my grade back…usually. Cleaning is the same way. It takes a while to start and a good long time to finish, but after, the benefits are a clean space and a satisfied feeling. Bible study is another. Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting against so many distractions when I just need to sit and read God’s Word. If I persevere and spend some time there, I’m nourished and I have strengthened my relationship with Christ.

These are all tasks that I hesitate to do, struggling with the cost/benefit analysis of the situation. However, from now on I will fight through to the end! I am inspired to conquer all my difficult tasks with determination and grit!!!

yeah. I’m still pretty pumped from my exercise endorphins

Everything In Its Place

Just wanted to share something that I learned in church yesterday. Maybe learned isn’t the right word, but it’s something that stuck out to me. I help with the 4-5 yr old children’s church. I love these kids! They are so sweet, and I’m so glad that I’m able to spend the summer with them. We were learning about the creation story in Genesis 1 and Mr. Probst brought up something that I had never really thought about before.

God created the world in six days plus one day of rest. I knew this, but did you realize that God created everything with a certain order? What if He had created humans on the 2nd day? Mmmm. I’m thinking we might have been doing some pretty intense doggy-paddling, since dry land wasn’t created till the 3rd day. And what if the animals had been created before the plants? I wouldn’t have wanted to meet up with a hungry hungry hippo before his lunch had been created. It’s somewhat humorous to think of, but the point is that God is a God of order.

I like order. I like putting things in order too. Numbers, papers, shoes, books, refrigerators, rooms…yes. I love to organize and order. And sometimes I think I’m better at putting things in order than God is. That is probably the stupidest assumption I could ever make, but that’s how I live a lot of the time: putting things in the order that I want them in. I put my schoolwork before my spiritual refreshment. I decide that I would rather read a book than help someone else. Ok, basically, my order includes putting me first

What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? Psalm 8:4

Who am I, that God should even think about me? What have I done to make Him bless me? And the answer is, nothing. So where is my order? Well, I can tell you something. If I can keep God in mind with each decision I make, I’ll see that His order is always best and my order looks as ridiculous as mixing up the order of creation

The Prince and Me

Yes, this is the third post in 3 days, which is probably something of a record for me. It’s mostly because the summer is started to get a little bit slow. I must admit that there is not much to entertain here at the moment. That means that the visit from the Royal Family today really livened things up.

Prince Edward of Wessex was here at Bob Jones University touring the Museum & Gallery today, as many of you know. He graced the campus with his presence and even did my coworkers and I the honor of walking right in front of our building so that we could have a clear view of royalty. However, someone remarked that he didn’t ‘look’ like a prince at all. He didn’t. In fact, he seemed rather like an ordinary man in a suit.

This got me to wondering. I’ve heard the phrase “someday my prince will come” many many times. But how will I know when he gets here?? He’ll probably look fairly ordinary, and I doubt if he’ll have a Royal Guard standing around him either. That makes things just a little more difficult. So, how will I know?

Not to be anticlimactic, but, I don’t think that’s for me to figure out right now. Sure, I would love to know what he looks like, or acts like, or maybe if he even exists or not, but I think that waiting is a part of what makes that ordinary guy transform into my handsome prince. So I’m good with waiting. Because transformations can take a while.

And the Lord knows I need transforming as well. I’m definitely not going to pop a curtsy and become a girl worthy of a prince overnight. That task could take years to happen. But I’m workin’ on it, I’m workin on it! As he transforms into a princely man of God, I’ll be working my way to a closer walk with the Prince of peace and a serene, godly outlook on life. I don’t want to be stuck in the ‘rags’ of this world; I want to be ready when he shows up at my door.

And that, my friends, is a goal worth fighting for.

Little Bites

I can hear my mom telling me, “Mareena, you don’t need to shovel food into your mouth like you haven’t eaten in 3 days. We feed you very well. Take little bites, please.” THAT is a memory that will pull me back in time. I can see myself as a goofy little kid sitting at our kitchen table eating, after my mom has whipped up lunch. But here’s another memory that I’m going to throw at you:

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches

If anything can make me reminisce on childhood, it’s peanut butter and jelly. The squishy white bread, the creamy taste of peanut butter as it sticks to the roof of your mouth, and the fruity burst of jelly as slides under the peanut butter and then blobs out the back of the sandwich, and cutting it into 4 small triangles, just for the fun of it. That encompasses the joy of being a kid.

I went through a phase where I didn’t enjoy peanut butter and jelly. Shocking? I know. I loved being a kid, but pretty soon, I was ready to grow out of it. So in a way, I grew out of peanut butter and jelly for a time. I cultivated more ’sophisticated’ tastes for sandwiches like Subway and Panera. But pretty soon, being older wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and I started to long for the tastes of childhood. So now, as much as I enjoy a good Spicy Italian sub or a chicken salad croissant, I sometimes have to step back into my childhood and eat some peanut butter and jelly. Just like I did tonight for dinner. And I even washed it all down with milk.

Confessions of a Bookaholic

I’m figuring that basically everyone who is reading this blog is someone who knows me at least a little bit. Therefore, with that assumption in mind, I’m going to venture that everyone reading also realizes how much I adore books.

I don’t know if I can even explain why I love books so much. I have many moving thoughts and emotions about this subject, but what I write and what you read could be totally different. And a weird feeling just swept over me, because this feeling of inadequacy must be what authors feel all the time. Thankfully, they appear able to conquer it long enough to write something fantastic.

That’s what books are. Fantastic, sandwiched between a cover. I must admit, I always picture the Reading Rainbow popping out of every book I open, because so much can be hidden in the words.New worlds, captivating characters, struggles, everyday love, the fantastic and the ordinary, inspiration, and life. It’s all there, plainly condensed into a small, travel size package

So, while it may seem as though I’m stuck in Greenville, with my new library card and some extra time, I have and will experience things that you will not believe.

Hero

The forces of evil are gathering against me. I carry the scars, bruises, scrapes, and gashes to prove it. They try to push me down, but I will not be beaten! Why, you ask? Here is why. Because the forces of good will ALWAYS overpower the forces of evil. Just ask the Lone Ranger and Tonto, Batman and Robin, the Fantastic Four, or Woody and Buzz. They all succeeded, but I beg you to notice also that they couldn’t do it alone either. They had to have hero support.

If I may *humbly* refer to myself as the hero of this story, let me explain. The gashes, bruises, and scrapes are indeed real. Bruise 1 – I slip off my chair at work and bang the top of my foot on the metal foot rest. Foot goes numb and bruise immediately swells up and there is a definite dent in the top of my foot. Scrape 1 – I pass a chair at work and it attacks me and scratches me. Dangerous. Scrape 2,3,4,5,6,7, & 8 – I fell off a scooter. Don’t laugh! It hurt. And now I have only a part of my toenail left. Gash 1, 2, 3 – also from the scooter fall, strategically placed on my knee, ankle, and big toe. So the forces of evil have attacked by injuring me, the hero, and therefore hindering me in my quest for an enjoyable day. But wait! I have hero support! For bruise 1, my two favorite GA’s from the business office came bravely to my rescue. Chipper even ran upstairs to find ice for it. Swelling goes down and only a dull ache remains. Scrape 2,3,4,5,6,7, & 8 and Gash 1,2, &3 were all treated by my adopted family, the famous Rawlings. Between giving up the rest of their walk, loaning me shorts to give easier access to the wounds, bandaging with what seemed like an entire box of Band-Aids (insert band-aid song), and feeding me Italian Ice, the Rawlings successfully defeated the evil regime of blood and pain.

So, when I come right down to it, I’m not really a hero. I’m just a clutz with a tendency for getting hurt. And I definitely could not survive without all the help and support of friends and adopted families this summer. They are the leaders of the forces of good and my heroes. I’m pretty sure with their help, I’ll even make it through this summer with minimal scars to show for it.

And because I know you were all wondering exactly how the Band-Aid song goes, I will sing it for you. Because this is my new motto…

I’m stuck on Band-Aids, cuz the Band-Aids stuck on me. I’m stuck on Band-Aids so those germs won’t stick on me!

Absent

There are many kinds of separation. Separation of the classes, separation of church and state, separation between boys and girls (yes, we all remember elementary school), and separation of home and college student. As you may have guessed, I’m suffering from the last kind. It is more commonly known as…homesickness. So a photo is not all that felt absent from my life today.

The funny thing about homesickness is that it strikes at the most random times. I can get off the phone after a perfectly normal, everyday conversation with my mom, and then I’m bawling my eyes out while hugging my stuffed elephant. I miss my family, but sometimes the distance and the feeling that I really SHOULD be at home is too much. And then, almost as quickly as it comes, the intensity is gone. Not that I miss my family any less, I just realize that crying is not going to do anything about it. Thank you, reasonable side of me.

Would I change where I am right now? Ok, there are times that I think I would. But truly, I know this is where I’m supposed to be. This is what God has for me this summer. I have an amazing job, cool roommates, people in the community who love and care for me, and a God who is always there. And I haven’t had a squabble with anyone in my family since January. How many people can say that? So, as one of my friends is ever so fond of saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Happy Endings

I just spent over an hour sitting on a couch with three girls under the age of 10 and we watched a movie. What movie is that, you ask? Well, I will tell you. It was a classic tale of intrigue, romance, and treachery with a twist. It was a grandiose musical with catching songs that make you want to get up and sing along (we definitely did). It was one of my favorite movies. It was Barbie’s Princess and the Pauper. Yep. A Barbie movie.

Now you may be wondering why I’m telling you this. It’s because I’m not ashamed to say that I am a sucker for happy endings, and therefore, a sucker for Barbie movies. They always end happy, the guy always gets the girl, and everyone knows how to harmonize in perfect thirds.

I know, I know. Life isn’t like that at all. But aren’t we all supposed to dream like that as kids? Aren’t we supposed to see ourselves as princes and princesses doing daring and brave things to save the kingdom we care about? Some people may scoff at it, but I think movies can teach us something. It’s not wrong to imagine and dream. And yes, reality does eventually come into play, but your motives need to be right. Because the evil Preminger only wanted the kingdom out of greed, he was destined to fail. But because good Princess Analiese wanted her kingdom to come first, she was able to triumph.

So here’s what I learned tonight. Do I have the right motives behind my actions? Am I worthy to be a princess in the way that I would be willing to give up what I love to help someone else? …and I really want a dress like Erica from the movie.

My Domain

As I walked around campus last night, I had the immense feeling of owning the world. Yep, I owned the world!! …well, the campus anyway. BJU has become my domain and I want to introduce you to it, or at least one part of it.

First, I think I should introduce you to Georgia Creel 122. It is a lovely dorm room situated 2 doors from the bathrooms (that’s handy), across the hall from the laundry room (and the ice machine!), and a half o’ hall down from the checkout kiosk (my gateway to the outside world). My roommates are Stephanie and Mary, both seniors. They are far above my meager “rising” sophomore status, but they are very sweet about my inferiority.

Just so you know, I will lead you around the dorm room in a spatial outline manner – definition: outlining in a pattern, so as to give a mental picture of a certain area. Here we go…I walk into the room and hit my head on the phone and then bang my knee into the dresser as I stumble over the refrigerator, pass my closet and fall into my ‘cave’ (or the bottom of the triple). I roll out of bed and reach up to turn the AC up before walking to the sink and mirror to examine the bump on my head from the telephone. Then I turn left to Mary’s bed and walk past the bed and then her dresser until I reach the other closets and accidentally knock down all the shoes hanging on one of the doors. I pick them up and then stumble out of the room having made it full circle through my path of destruction… got it? Good. Now you know how my room is laid out.