*
This is by far this week's best PostSecret:
*
I love the results that show up when you Google my name. (Can I say that without sounding like a total narcissist? It's my blog...I guess I can say whatever I want.) It's an accurate, relatively concise portrayal of my online life. Twitter, Facebook, and this blog are there; so are my race results (everything from running to uphill races to erg sprints at CU), the CSU Biochemistry Department, and the activity of my friends. I'm not embarrassed by any of it.
*
Last night Courto and I had one of those only-because-we're-sisters moments, just posting and reposting the lines from one of our favorite movies on her Facebook wall. I miss her. I really hope she gets to come visit me next week.
*
Wednesday afternoon, it was so nice outside that I let my Capilene dry in the sunshine on my porch:
It looked cooler in person.
*
My propensity to buy an artist's music correlates directly with what kind of person I perceive him or her to be. Like, I want John Mayer's new album SO badly, but he has turned into such an awful individual that I won't spend money on it. Instead, KD is burning it for me. Barefoot Truth, on the other hand - and/or the Avett Brothers - are totally worth the money. Why support someone's lack of character?
*
Quentin Tarantino is a freakin' weirdo.
*
This bottle of wine was amazing:
I think all pinot noirs are good, but this one was ridiculous.
*
I'm beginning to love Anne Lamott the way I loved Orlando Bloom back when I was in high school, except in a non-crush sort of way, which is to say: I loooove her. I love the things she says and the things she's involved in and the way she writes and talks. I don't love her dreadlocks, but I think it's sort of rad that she has them. Oh, her writing... I would give anything to write the way she does, and to have the insights she shares. Par example, from Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith:
"But I prayed: Help me. And then I drove to the market in silence, to buy my birthday dinner.
I flirted with everyone in sight, especially the old people, and I lightened up. When the checker finished ringing up my items, she looked at my receipt and cried, "Hey! You've won a ham!"
I felt blindsighted by the news. I had asked for help, not a ham. This was very disturbing. What on earth was I going to do with ten pounds of salty pink eraser? I rarely eat it. It makes you bloat.
"Wow," I said. The checker was so excited about giving it to me that I pretended I was, too.
How great!
A bagger was dispatched to the back of the store to fetch my ham. I stood waiting anxiously. I wanted to go home, so I could start caring for suffering people, or turn on CNN. I almost suggested that the checker award the ham to the next family who paid with food stamps. But for some reason, I waited. If God was giving me a ham, I'd be crazy not to receive it. Maybe it was the ham of God, who takes away the sins of the world."
She keeps going with the story from there, but the 'ham of God' made me laugh so hard that I had to call Mom and tell her about it, except I was so giggly that she couldn't understand the message I left on her voicemail.
Also:
"Grace means you're in a different universe from where you had been stuck, when you had absolutely no way to get there on your own."
Also:
"At times like these, I believe, Jesus rolls up his sleeves, smiles roguishly, and thinks, 'This is good.' He lets me get nice and crazy, until I can't take my own thinking and solutions for one more moment. The next morning, I got on my knees and prayed, 'Please, please help me. Please let me feel You while I adjust to not getting what I was hoping for.' And then I remembered Rule 1: When all else fails, follow instructions. And Rule 2: Don't be an asshole."
This is why I love her: she is at once so full of grace, and so screwed up and relatable. She loves the same God I do, and for most of the same reasons, and we can both be pretty pissed off that God seems to stand by while bad things happen but also understand that there is SO MUCH we don't understand. When I started reading her stories, I felt like: 'YES, I'm not the only one.' Part of why I'm so excited to start seminary is to meet other people like Annie.
This is by far this week's best PostSecret:
*I love the results that show up when you Google my name. (Can I say that without sounding like a total narcissist? It's my blog...I guess I can say whatever I want.) It's an accurate, relatively concise portrayal of my online life. Twitter, Facebook, and this blog are there; so are my race results (everything from running to uphill races to erg sprints at CU), the CSU Biochemistry Department, and the activity of my friends. I'm not embarrassed by any of it.
*
Last night Courto and I had one of those only-because-we're-sisters moments, just posting and reposting the lines from one of our favorite movies on her Facebook wall. I miss her. I really hope she gets to come visit me next week.
*
Wednesday afternoon, it was so nice outside that I let my Capilene dry in the sunshine on my porch:
It looked cooler in person.*
My propensity to buy an artist's music correlates directly with what kind of person I perceive him or her to be. Like, I want John Mayer's new album SO badly, but he has turned into such an awful individual that I won't spend money on it. Instead, KD is burning it for me. Barefoot Truth, on the other hand - and/or the Avett Brothers - are totally worth the money. Why support someone's lack of character?
*
Quentin Tarantino is a freakin' weirdo.
*
This bottle of wine was amazing:
I think all pinot noirs are good, but this one was ridiculous.*
I'm beginning to love Anne Lamott the way I loved Orlando Bloom back when I was in high school, except in a non-crush sort of way, which is to say: I loooove her. I love the things she says and the things she's involved in and the way she writes and talks. I don't love her dreadlocks, but I think it's sort of rad that she has them. Oh, her writing... I would give anything to write the way she does, and to have the insights she shares. Par example, from Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith:
"But I prayed: Help me. And then I drove to the market in silence, to buy my birthday dinner.
I flirted with everyone in sight, especially the old people, and I lightened up. When the checker finished ringing up my items, she looked at my receipt and cried, "Hey! You've won a ham!"
I felt blindsighted by the news. I had asked for help, not a ham. This was very disturbing. What on earth was I going to do with ten pounds of salty pink eraser? I rarely eat it. It makes you bloat.
"Wow," I said. The checker was so excited about giving it to me that I pretended I was, too.
How great!
A bagger was dispatched to the back of the store to fetch my ham. I stood waiting anxiously. I wanted to go home, so I could start caring for suffering people, or turn on CNN. I almost suggested that the checker award the ham to the next family who paid with food stamps. But for some reason, I waited. If God was giving me a ham, I'd be crazy not to receive it. Maybe it was the ham of God, who takes away the sins of the world."
She keeps going with the story from there, but the 'ham of God' made me laugh so hard that I had to call Mom and tell her about it, except I was so giggly that she couldn't understand the message I left on her voicemail.
Also:
"Grace means you're in a different universe from where you had been stuck, when you had absolutely no way to get there on your own."
Also:
"At times like these, I believe, Jesus rolls up his sleeves, smiles roguishly, and thinks, 'This is good.' He lets me get nice and crazy, until I can't take my own thinking and solutions for one more moment. The next morning, I got on my knees and prayed, 'Please, please help me. Please let me feel You while I adjust to not getting what I was hoping for.' And then I remembered Rule 1: When all else fails, follow instructions. And Rule 2: Don't be an asshole."
This is why I love her: she is at once so full of grace, and so screwed up and relatable. She loves the same God I do, and for most of the same reasons, and we can both be pretty pissed off that God seems to stand by while bad things happen but also understand that there is SO MUCH we don't understand. When I started reading her stories, I felt like: 'YES, I'm not the only one.' Part of why I'm so excited to start seminary is to meet other people like Annie.
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