Being a Grown-Up

Well, I guess now it's time to look for a job. You know, the whole "being a grown-up" in the "real world" thing. (As if the world I've experienced for the last twenty-two years hasn't been "real.")
Too bad I haven't found anyone who's willing to pay me for the things I most want to do: work with refugees, fight social injustice, feed hungry people, travel the world...
In some ways, though, it's nice not to have much of a plan; at least I'm very open to wherever God has for me, rather than Him having to turn or adjust or move away from something which is already quite fixed in my mind.
-shrug-
Fixed plans are overrated anyway, hey?

Finis

I've graduated! Now on to whatever's next...
(Proof that I graduated...as did my dear friend, Erin...)

Story Tree

I like this picture:
For some reason, I feel like this tree belongs in a story.
Maybe it's because it looks somewhat gnarled to me, and "gnarled" is such a story-sounding word.

Rehearsal

I went to my graduation rehearsal today. It was pretty...exciting. We all stood with little numbered cards in single file lines, and then walked in a few circles, and then listened to people talk for half an hour about what we could expect at the real ceremony. Here's what to expect: where you are, who you're standing next to, and the order of events will be completely different on Saturday than this rehearsal, so follow the instructions they'll give you then. (So, we're practicing this, why?...)
No, it actually wasn't bad. If nothing else, it was an excuse for everyone from the Lingual Mingle (the cool people in the linguistics department) (okay, actually it's pretty much the whole department...all ten of us) to gather and head out for lunch together one last time.
I also got my cap and gown today. And--while I am very glad not to have bright yellow robes like some other universities (black is always safe)--I have to say, the hood-thing is a bit disappointing. Ugly, actually. Black with a green stripe sounds okay, right? Picture it, however, lined with the purest of white...faux fur. (You know, the kind of synthetic fur-stuff they put inside jackets sometimes? Yeah. Whose idea was that?)

Oh yeah...

Oh, by the way, I also had my last final yesterday afternoon.
I'm completely finished with university.
Huh.

My People

I went to my last small group/Bible study with my Canadian people tonight. Here's a shot of who was there (a few are missing):I'm going to miss them. They're pretty amazing people, and I've learned a lot from them.
And they're quite funny.

Ethical Consumerism

So, I’ve been thinking lately about the ideas of ethical consumerism and over-consumption.
It seems a hip thing these days for products to be marked “fair trade” or “ethical” or “organic,” creating a dilemma for those of us—and I believe we are many—who genuinely wish to make wise, ethical decisions with our purchases: suddenly, a distinction is a buzzword is a marketing ploy, and the already difficult task of ethically navigating the globalised marketplace feels nigh impossible.
But I’m beginning to wonder, perhaps instead of fretting over the question of whether to buy organically-grown-fair-trade variety X or independently-produced-ecologically-packaged variety Y, I would do better to ask whether I need the thing—the coffee, the fruit, the hoody, the whatever—in the first place.
So often, the answer is no (or would be, if I took the time to stop and ask it).
-pause-
Sometimes it seems impossible to buy anything—to move, to breathe—without finding out it is indirectly exploiting someone somewhere. And, at least for me, facing this can be paralyzing, almost despair-inducing at times. I want so much to demonstrate God’s love for His people and His earth through what I choose to do with the resources He gives me, and so often it seems to be a lose-lose situation.
I still don’t have it figured out. I still eat bananas (which can’t be grown locally in the Northwest) and go out for coffee with my friends, and buy the occasional clothing item and wonder every time I do where it came from and how I can know for sure.
(And even when I know, it’s complicated, hey? When I was in Kenya this last summer, one day I heard people lamenting that Europeans were supporting the exploitive, worker-poisoning Kenyan flower industry and should buy locally, and the next day I heard people lamenting that Europeans were withdrawing their support from the sustaining, job-giving Kenyan flower industry by buying too much locally.)
I guess for now, I’m going to continue, whenever possible, to buy things which were produced exploitation-free, and prayerfully to evaluate whether I need to buy them at all. But I mostly pray that some day it will all become clearer to me what living ethically actually looks like.

A Chance Encounter

I was treating my senioritis with a leisurely walk along the semi-wooded paths of my neighborhood this afternoon, and this fellow came slithering along next to me:
He was quite friendly. We had a bit of a mutually-fascinated staring contest for a while, and then he consented to sit very still while I took his picture, even letting me come quite close before he decided he had had enough of fame and wanted to return to the comfort of the shady undergrowth.
He's a smart snake, I think.
I like him.
(For more snake and random tree pictures from my walk today, you can check out my album.)

A Very Merry Half-Birthday to Me...

Today is my half birthday. I think I'm going to celebrate it. Ben and Jerry's, maybe? (Wait, it's a half birthday...Ben's? Or should I go with Jerry's?)

Comfort in Smallness

So, as I've been finishing up school this week and trying to sort out and meet expectations for my work and what I do and who I am, I've been thinking about a particular part in C.S. Lewis' (amazing) novel, Perelandra. For those of you who haven't read it, one of the characters basically saves the world and is having a bit of a personal crisis about the enormity of that (understandably), and one of the other characters (it's sort of complicated to explain here, but it's a sort of god-like character, stronger than humans but servant to Maledil, the One True God) reminds him that it was Maledil at work.
He tells him: "Be comforted small one, in your smallness."
I love that. We are small, and it is such a comfort. We can't take credit for great things which "we" do, nor can we bear the burden of "messing up" God's plans. We have no cause to boast, nor to despair. We're just not big enough for either one. And in our smallness we are held tightly by the Master of the Universe, whose greatness cannot be contained in all the heavens, and yet whose love for us--his crazy, messed-up, broken children--is infinite.
Whoever is reading this, I hope that you are enfolded in the deep shalom of God today.
May you take comfort in your smallness.

Freedom!!

It's done. The take-home final which I expected to take me days is finished and submitted in a single afternoon/evening.
-really, really, really big and somewhat exhausted-and-uncertain-if-the-final-was-coherent-and-not-really-caring-at -this-point-whether-it-was-or-not grin-
Now there's just the small matter of keeping my brain engaged enough to take my English final next Wednesday.
Whatever.

More Lasts

I just turned in my last undergrad paper ever (well, not counting the take-home final this week). I also just pulled the last all-nighter of my university career. Perhaps even (God-willing) the last all-nighter of my life. (Except while traveling...that doesn't count.)
But it is done. I no longer have to think about freshman and how they communicate with one another and how their interactions change based on where they are sitting in the classroom and how many inches above their head they raise their hands and how many times they sneeze per class. No more freshman-spying. (Actually, it's a little sad...they were pretty entertaining.) But no more.
And my roommate very kindly made me pancakes for breakfast, which was particularly lovely since I had a wicked craving for pancakes at about four o'clock this morning.
Okay. Just two things to go, and I'm all the way done.
-deep breath-

Dyselxia

I would just like to point out that momentary, exhaustion-induced dyslexia is sad. I just checked word-count on the paper I have due tomorrow (or I should say, later today), and read 2928. That made me happy, since the target count is 3250. But I don't have 2928 words, I have only 2298. That may not seem like a big deal proportionally, but it makes a big difference to the morale of a tired person trying to finish a paper at 2am.
-sigh-
Back to plugging away...
(On a brighter note, my paper is about university freshman social/academic survival tactics from field observations I've made throughout the term, and I'm getting to write it as a voiceover script for a nature-documentary: Freshman in the Mist. Bwa ha ha.)

Ethicurean

I just found a blog called Ethicurean (http://www.ethicurean.com/), and am now claiming this label for myself:
"eth•i•cu•re•an n. (also adj.) Someone who seeks out tasty things
that are also sustainable, organic, local, and/or ethical."
That's fantastic. Although I think, technically, I would be an ethicure (since I have trouble accepting ethicurean as a noun). But an ethicure I shall be. Especially since their little tagline is "Chew the Right Thing." Tee hee hee.

Lasts

Today I sat through my last undergrad class.
There are so many lasts right now: last English paper, last class, last package to pick up from the mail centre, last time shopping at my local fruit market here...
But somehow, they don't really seem to register with me. I had my last class, and--even knowing it was the last--it seemed like any other class. I waited for some sense of loss or happiness or even surreality, but it didn't come. That's how almost all "lasts" seem to be. I left the classroom, like I always do, and the fact that I would not be going back next week didn't phase me because I know next week I'll be doing what next week brings.
It makes me feel sort of broken. Like I should be weepy or thrilled or nostalgic (or preparing to be nostalgic), like the other graduates seem to be. But I'm not. -shrug-
Anyway.
Just some musings.

Rembrandt

I feel like it has been too long since I included a picture in a post (and all that text feels so...paper-like), so I decided to share another of my favorite paintings, Rembrandt's A Philosopher in Meditation:
-gazing meditatively at picture-
I think that's all I'll say about it.

The End

I just finished my last English paper ever. At least, my last as an undergrad, and the last one I see myself having any reason to write.
I'm very glad it's finished (since I'm sick to death of papers at the moment), but somewhere deep, deep inside there's a tiny little part of me that's a bit sad.
-moment of silence to give the little sad voice a chance to be heard-
-shrug-
(Maybe I'll just join a book club.)

Grad Announcement

So, I recently picked up my grad tickets and announcements. I looked in the envelope, and they gave me the six allotted tickets, and a grand total of two announcements. Two? What is the use of two announcements? If they're assuming that the people I'm inviting are family units, wouldn't they give me at least three, for three potential couples? I think it's silly. Fortunately, they're not very attractive, so I'm not planning to send them out anyway. But really.
In lieu of helpful little tagboard cards, I will make the announcement here: I am graduating from university, 26 April 2008. My ceremony is at 6:30 in the evening, probably the most inconvenient time imaginable to sit through a two-hour ceremony (I have to be there at 5:30...when's dinner going to happen, I'd like to know). But then it will be over and I will be finished with university. Hopefully that doesn't mean I'm supposed to know what I want to do when I grow up.

Bah

Right now I feel very torn between wanting to think of April 19--the day of my last assignment submission--as tantalizingly close, or as plenty afar for me to finish everything I have to do. I think close is winning.
But, good news: my 18-page philosophy paper is done. A whole 36 hours early.
Now onto the English paper.
Then the ethnography paper.
Then the philosophy take-home final exam paper.
Then three days off!
Then the English final exam. (Ha, like I'll still care about school by then. What brilliant person scheduled a 400-level final nine days after the last day of classes in its students' final semester?)

No LDP!

Hello, world. I just thought I would point out: I am not writing a Language Data Project analysis paper right now. And I never, ever, ever have to again. I realize that you may not grasp the full depth of feeling invoked by this statement, so I encourage you just to be happy with me. Very, very happy.
-huge grin-

Sunflower Seed Butter

If you have never tried sunflower seed butter, I highly recommend it. It's very tasty. We ran out this morning, which makes me a little sad. But I am greatly enjoying this last piece of sunflower-seed-butter toast. Mmm.

Belgian Chocolate

This afternoon, I checked my mail, and there was a package awaiting me. It was an Easter package, and it was full of Belgian chocolate.
-savoring the moment-
A package and good chocolate.
I think that has to make me as happy as the existence of tarsiers. :)
(Thanks Mum and Dad.)

Tarsiers

This is a tarsier, living in the Philippines. Full-grown, it's roughly the size of a man's hand.

Somehow it makes me happier just knowing such things exist in the world.

-------------

Photo: http://lumq.com/wp-content/images/animals/tarsier_2.jpg

Virgle

I applied to go!

http://www.google.com/virgle/index.html

I was rejected. They called me "distressingly normal." Sigh. No Mars colonization for me.

The Mpwa Turns One

My favorite nephew turns one today! -little happy birthday dance-
Aw, being an aunt is fun.
Happy birthday, Mpwa.
(The card is in the mail...)

Hope in the Fell of Dark

Today--this whole week, actually--I've been thinking a lot about life and it's purpose and where mine is going; perhaps it's the looming-ness of graduation...and perhaps it has to do with an acute awareness today of how very broken and frail I am in my humanity, and how prone I am to sin. To want to sin.
And I find myself thinking on this poem (yes, yes, more poetry), by Gerard Manley Hopkins:

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
What hours, O what black hoürs we have spent
This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light’s delay.
With witness I speak this. But where I say
Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.

I am gall, I am heartburn. God’s most deep decree
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.

I wish I could say that I resonate with his words less than I do; the taste of "me" is indeed a bitter, sour taste. Yet then I think on the end of the poem: "I see the lost are like this...but worse," I give pause. The "lost" are no worse in what they do or think than I, but their curse is certainly more bitter: they cannot, as I can, cast themselves on the incomprehensible fact that God has redeemed them, cannot fling themselves onto His grace and find acceptance every single time. What despair there must be to be stuck tasting only of oneself. Yet conversely, what hope there is for us who are lost no longer, who have been hid in Christ, who can taste of the richness of Him and his infinite compassion.
I don't understand why I still seem to crave and seek out such nastiness when such glory is offered to me instead, but I think I understand less why He takes me back each time.
-pause-
That's a crazy beautiful thing.
(And it makes me want to tell the lost how to be found.)