Honestly Ridiculous

This morning I woke up and hated everything in my closet. Not a single thing to wear. None of it.

I spent around 30 minutes trying on clothes, different tops with different pants, occasionally perusing my shoe options only to end up in the same sweater I started off in, albeit, with a different pair of jeans.

When I wore a uniform to school, this never happened. I had two choices of shirts, one skirt, two pants. Aside from the fact that I can never learned to coordinate anything that wasn't white, blue, khaki or gray plaid, I've gotta say that the uniforms were much easier.

Ridiculous.

Okay, well. I lied. There was one thing in my closet that I wanted to wear. My lovely summer dress with a lovely summer sandal. (The green dress with a robin-egg blue floral print and lining. It's sleeveless, with a high waist. And looks like it came straight from the 1950s...oh it just makes my heart flutter. Ooo, and if I could just find a delicate blue shoe, I would simply be the cat's meow.) But I just didn't think that would be pratical. I did, at least, resist the urge to try it on. Perhaps this afternoon...

I think I will wear my Methodist coat to make up for this morning's wardrobe woes.

House Cleaning, an introspective, journal type entry:

It seems like I’m always leaving Texas…I hope that someday I’ll be back here for more than a few weeks or months at a time. But before I come back to Columbia there are some thoughts I need to clean out, just so I can have a fresh start there.

London was one of the best decisions I have ever made. I’ll be honest, in a lot of ways I went to London because I needed to be out of Columbia for awhile. And it’s only been with in the past 3 months that I’ve really been ready to come back. That being said, I’m excited to see the people I’ve been missing and to be starting with a nearly clean slate.

FARC is really the only home I’ve ever known in Columbia. I didn’t live in FARC my freshman year – but there was one night in winter. I came out of Loeb Hall after a band rehearsal. It was cold, crisp and getting late. As I walked past the front doors and windows of FARC, I could see that the lobby was darkened and Jim Widner and his combo were playing to a packed house. I could hear the music and I stood in the cold and listened. To see one of the biggest musical influences in my life, playing to a group of people my age…the smile on the band’s faces, looking at everyone gathered... I stood there for a long time, wishing that I could be walking into McDavid and calling it home. I was so jealous, and I just stood there, feeling like that’s where I should have been. Eventually I walked on back to 528 Hudson Hall, but I didn’t leave easily.

I got so lucky…I didn’t want to teach a FIG, I wanted to be a CA over in Johnston. But I landed in FARC…exactly where I belonged. For two years, one of the best feelings I had was coming down the hill from the quad, seeing McDavid and knowing I was coming home.

FARC is different now, of course, and in a good way, I’m sure. Because it belongs now to different people, who are creating and living and sharing themselves and investing in a community. Because more than the community goals or the building, it is the people who make it an amazing place to live.

Some of the most important relationships in my life are ones that started in the hallways of McDavid.

Tennyson wrote, “I am a part of all that I have met.” So, I like to believe that my experience in FARC is as much a part of the building as it is a part of me.

Timely Thoughts, or two seemingly unrelated themes united by brief refrences to the Underground.

Thought 1)
It is the end of another year and I am astounded by how much distance I have covered.

How do we ever manage to find the people we make our lives with – we get a leg up with our family, because if we’re lucky we don’t have to find them. But all the other people – the people who go bowling with us, the ones who cook us mac’n’cheese after a few drinks, the one’s who know any number of inane facts about us and who love us all the same – how do we ever, ever find them. How is that you can wake up suddenly and someone who is on the periphery of your life is suddenly one of the most important people in your world, while someone you pinned some dreams to is gone without a word, leaving only some questions? And how is it that some people are supposed to be in our lives forever and others only for as long as a trip on the subway? Why is it that sometimes the people we thought were forever end up getting off at the next stop?

We fold people into our lives, we take them with us and vice versa. And somehow it all works out. All of the folding and traveling and distance and storms and we change with each other, and sometimes we part ways, but if we are lucky we move forward. It is such a gift.

Thought 2)
It is the end of another year and time is a funny, funny thing. See – we tend to think of time as a constant natural law – like gravity, but its not. When you look at the stars you’re seeing light that started traveling towards the earth years ago. That same star you’re looking at could have died ages ago – the news just hasn’t reached us yet.

Maybe time is just a way of trying to make sense of the way life changes. I’m not the same person I was a year ago – but it wasn’t time that changed me. Life happens without a calendar. Go out and shake the world without getting hung up on time.

(I think it was Jim Elliot that wrote, “Wherever you are, be all there.” I get so wrapped up in thinking about what comes next that I miss the moment I’m in. And I really believe that every moment is valuable – the subway is an excellent place to learn this.)

And even though time isn’t a constant – we can’t go back and we can’t change it. There are no do-overs.

What do you want? Because whatever it is, it is not going to knock on your door and ask if you are ready. Does life happen to you, or do you happen to life? What have you got to lose? Go out and shake the world.

So tonight marks another year. “Good luck, exploring the infinite abyss.”

Just when it feels like my feet are finally starting to know their way around this city, I find that it's nearly time for me to head back home. I'm excited about that, but I know I want more time in this city - in this country. Who knows, maybe I'll read law at Oxford and join the inns of court?

So here's my A to Zed of London - or at least how I perceive it tonight.

A: Allsop or Alsop - which is how my name is always misspelled over here. The second "L" I've seen before, but the "O" is a new variation. Allsop is also the name of a very successful real estate company over here.

B: Barbican - the crazy, industrial chic part of London that I work in. It landed itself on a list of "Ugliest Areas in London" earlier this year. But it's not bad.

C: Colin Firth. Who Jo and I happened to run into at Leicester Square at the same time we saw Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgewick. We're not a crazy celebrity stalkers, we just wanted to buy tickets to a musical and the London Film Festival just happened to be going on right across from the ticket booth.

D: Dancing at the Mean Fiddler up near Tottenham Court Road. Dance Contest. Strobe lights. London hipsters. The Clash's "London Calling" on the stereo.

E: E-mails with Blythe, Tim and Jo in the downtimes at our internships. These people are some of the smartest, funniest, insightful and passionate people I know. From discussing the presidential election and press coverage to learning fun facts from world fact books - these kids make me smile everyday.

F: Foyles book store - one of the best finds.

G: Great Ormond Street Hospital - did you know that the royalties from the sales of J.M. Barrie's "Peter Pan" go to this children's hospital. Go buy a copy - now!

H: Hogarth Road - with it's hotels, flats, Asian grocery stores and some good take-away places. Home.

I: Internship at the Methodist Recorder. Which has had it's ups and downs, but have made me more sure than ever about what I aspire to be as a journalist.

J: Jam - Blythe and Jo know what I'm talking about. Jam the bane of my existence.

K: King's Cross Station and the night we tried to see the Decemberists, but it was sold out so we walked down to the Thames and found a crazy bowling alley.

L: Lectures - lots of class lectures. The worst one was the one about Prehistoric England. Also the Laundrette - with it's slightly mean attendants.

M: Millenium Bridge - which I must say, is one of my favorite spots in London. St Paul's Cathedral on one side, the Tate Modern and Globe on the other and a really pretty bridge.

N: Notting Hill - well really the pub in Notting Hill that also has live jazz every Sunday afternoon. Also - George Orwell use to live there.

O: Oxford - the college town where I ate at the Eagle and Childe (where C.S. Lewis and Tolkien hung out) and Oxford Street - as in I'm going to go look at stuff I can't buy on Oxford Street.

P: Seeing "The Producers" in its first London run. Also seeing Nathan Lane reprise his starring role on Broadway as Max Bialystock after Richard Dreyfuss pansied out.

Q: Professor Quirell from the first Harry Potter book. The president of the Methodist Conference looks like Quirrell in the movie - it's freaky.

R: The Russian restaurant near Harrod's - Borscht and Tears, baby. Complete with live Russian music - even songs about freezing to death.

S: St. Bride's Church on Fleet Street. The church that is historically associated with journalists. I will say that one of my best memories from London will come from this church.

T: Trafalgar Square by night - I think this could be my favorite sight in London.

U: The Underground is a warm and happy place, like a womb.

V: Victoria and Albert. Victorian architecture. Statues of Queen Victoria everywhere.

W: Wesley. John Wesley. Founder of Methodism - whom I feel a lot closer too after my sojourn at the Methodist Recorder. We ran a full length column the other day dealing entirely with the subject of whether he was a vegetarian - whether or not an old, dead guy was a vegitarian. Hard hitting news, folks, hard hitting.

X: "Xenophobia" as in I have seen the word "xenophobia" in newspapers over here way more than I ever have in the states.

Y: Young directors giving lectures on the Globe theatre. Young directors with dark hair and eyes. Dreamy young directors. Nuff said.

Z: Zed - as in no one says "Z" here, it's always zed.

Edinburgh

Can I say I love art? Cause I do.

Saw "Three Tahitians" by Paul Gaugain today - part of one of my favorite group of paintings ever. I just about had a fit - okay - I did have a fit when I saw it. The colours. The warmth. The fact that one of the figures has their back turned. Goodness - it's good.

Low key weekends are also fantastic. As are happybooks.

Train rides. Rugged hikes. Clean hostels. Good food. Pints. Beautiful cities. The ocean. Bagpipes. All things that are rocking my socks off.

What a blessing this entire time has been!!

Next weekend - Paris. Quite Shortly... The World!!!!

Estoy aqui.

I am in Madrid. I am leaving on Friday and I am already thinking about how to get back here.

My Spanish isn´t great, but being able to communicate with people is thrilling.

Yesterday, an old Spainard and I talked about bullfights. Mostly he talked and I listened. But I understood and that is a gift beyond words.

I'm off to Spain tomorrow for the mid-term break.

Those of you reading this should know that I am excited out of my mind. But in case you didn't - I'm excited out of my mind.

Sun. Spanish. Good Food. Good Company. Really - do you need anything else in life. No. I'm so glad you agree.

Rather than be the girl who never updates, here you go...

Post-o-Wonders 0r random meanderings through my mind:

1) I saw an American company perform "Death of a Salesman" - it was. It was. I've made my peace with it since the last time I threw myself into it.

2) I bought some colored pencils. And a little green journal with blank pages. Sometimes in the evening I write and then doodle in the margins with colored pencils.

3) I've decided I should be the boss - eventually.

4) I've also come to other conclusions. You know that moment when you realize that you've been going in a completely opposite direction than you ought. That's a good moment. I had it the other day and I danced.

5) My mom sent me some pictures - three of which were all taken on the same day - and that day is one of my best days of my entire life. Looking at the pictures is almost like being there again. So thanks to Mel, John Doe, Sam and Jon for now appearing in pictures on my wall (P.S. Jenny - you would be there too, but you left before we got the camera out)

6) My parents make me really happy.

7) I saw the ocean yesterday. I smelled the ocean yesterday. That was the best part of yesterday.

8) Old church ladies are the same everywhere - from Dallas to Dublin, they all encourage you to "join them after service for coffee and biscuits." Coffee in the crypt of ChristChurch Cathedral, no less.

9) It's a bad moment when you think "Alright tasty veggies - who wants to come home with me," in the grocery store. It's worse if you say it out loud.

10) I should find some coffee. And a cake. And that should happen...now.

I get off at the Barbican stop, walk past Nagshead Court and up Golden lane to my office. It's an a quieter part of the city, out east of everything. My office has a baby blue door and green carpeting. When 3.00 rolls around it's tea time - milk and sugar please. And occasionally there are chocolate biscuits. There is also quiet - the Methodist Recorder doesn't have the same frenzy as a daily paper.

Last week I saw Hamlet performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company - from the time the first person came on stage till Horatio's "Good night sweet prince, and angels sing thee to thy rest," I had tears in my eyes. To see it staged, see the intricacies of the plot - Hamlet's transformation from grieving son to young leader, Ophelia's descent to madness, Queen Gertrude's repentance, the King's villiany and Horatio's truest friendship. It was like hearing music for the first time - that same wonder and astonishment.

I know that the four months I'm planning to spend here will be far too short.

But London's not going anywhere - right?

You can take the girl out of Texas, but she's quite keen on London...Besides, I did happen to find a place that flies the Texas flag here, so I figure I'm in a good place.

I am mostly recovered from jet lag. Air India's customer service philosophy is "the customer is god." If I were god though, why would I be flying on an airplane? Clearly a question to think through.

London...

It is dense and wonderful. It truly is a city that moves and lives and has a life all it's own. It feels comfortable.

Notably today, me and some lovely companions rode on the London Eye - the large ferris wheel. The LARGEST ferris wheel in all the world.

At first I was a bit apprehensive, as I don't fancy heights and have never been on a ferris wheel.

But it was beyond amazing to sit on top of London, looking from St. Paul's dome to Big Ben and the Houses of Parliment. To see it sprawl below.

I live here. And at night, I can feel the tube (subway) train as it rumbles on the tracks beneath my kitchen window. In the morning I turn back the curtain and see the hotel with it's hanging flower baskets across the street, and see parents walking their children to school. And I am home.

Today I am going to London.

But it was a summer - everything that a summer should be. Everything that I needed.

I saw elephants in a cornfield. And I caught fireflies. There is a difference between existing and living of which elephants and fireflies are only a small part.

There were fried green tomatoes, Texas thunderstorms, and the cool sanctuary of a familiar church. There was a family that is amazing and strong and beautiful. Home.

And there was life. There was life waiting to be had. It doesn’t always wait – but this time it did, fortunately.

That was my summer. Full of quiet and whispered realizations about what’s important and what falls away. If I had talked any louder the quiet would have fled in an incalculable loss.

Today I am going to London. But I’ll be thinking about elephants and fireflies. And home.

So I’m off then. But, I’ll be back soon enough – “Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.” I’ll be back soon enough.

What I take with me

My brother told me to always remember that there is someone out there who wants it more than you, will work harder than you, will fight harder than you.

My Dad told me never to look a gift horse in the mouth. And he taught me how to sing, “This is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

And my Mom told me not to let my ears start itching. (This is not in regard to bathing habits.)

That’s the most valuable advice I’ve gotten in my life and I carry it very close to my heart.

Sleeping with Prufrock

Life twists in unexpected ways so I feel as though my feet are already off the ground with one week left here in familiarity growing increasingly unintelligible.

One week till...London, four months till...home, less than that till...the rest of my life.

"And time yet for a hundred indecisions/ and for a hundred visions and revisions/ before the taking of toast and tea." The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

Where are those damnable mermaids and will they ever sing for me?

Flashback and explanation
I was a substitute teacher yesterday at my high-school - two 10th grade Bible classes and one freshman study hall.

It's somewhat strange for me to go back to First Baptist Academy. As it is always strange to return to one's past and roots. But important to look back and remember. I can't say enough good things about the teachers, both academically and personally, that I had at the Academy. And if you really want to understand where I come from - FBA would be a prime place to start.

Sometimes there's a pretty interesting dynamic in private religious schools. It's hard to explain...and it's very easy to laugh at. I guess one fair way to look at it is that it's essentially like every high school -with it's share of cliques and dramas and teenage angst, but then it's got this whole spiritual element to it that, to some extent, heightens all situations.

I don't often write on this blog about my personal faith. In fact this is probably the most I've ever written about anything related to Christianity. I also rarely volunteer to share either my personal testimony or a testimony of "how the Lord is working in my life" - in fact I can recall only one time that I have spoken up volunteerily in a group setting about how a particular event affected me. And I still consider it a story worth sharing and occasionally I tell it and the whole thing happened in remote Alaska - no kidding.

Most of that attitude stems from my experiences and observations from my high-school and my youth group involvement. For many kids in that type of setting, it is almost a contest to see who can share the most dramatic testimony or show that the Lord is clearly doing more work in their lives than anyone else's. Who can lead a prayer, who can lead a song. The hottest guys at summer camp are the ones that have felt called to the ministry. Testimonies that rely upon the emotional roller coaster that you can lead the audience through.

I have always eschewed arguments which rely upon emotion, simply because emotion comes and goes and is not so sturdy a thing as to build a life upon. And as for me, well, I've always been of the mind that my actions ought tell my faith and heart more accurately and eloquently than words. At times, my actions have miserably failed to speak of my faith - and this too is a testimony of my state.

And quite frankly, it also comes from the fact that I don't fancy public speaking and I tend to be a very guarded person. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve, particularly when it comes to my personal life. And that's at least one of the reasons why I don't write about my faith a whole lot on this blog.

I've written myself out. It's just an explanation, I guess. Doctrinally, my beliefs haven't changed that much over the years. But I've grown up a bit and seen more of life, and so my faith has grown up a bit as well. Funny how that works.

Sometimes I fear that I say too little of my faith, that I am too guarded with it, and too private about it. But it is deeply important to me, and I would say, the best thing in my life.

When I first met my editor at the Missourian she asked me about my family.

"Do you have any siblings?" she asked.

"A brother, about 13 years older," I said.

"Tell me about him," she said.

"Well. Everyday he's my hero," I told her. "Everyday."

And this is why.

"I could go on and on….Thinking of these things makes me realize that it “Rocks my face off” that I am such a good brother. "

Jimmy - my bro sent me an e-mail today. It read like this:

"Just read your Blog which you finally updated. It was ok, except for the fact that there was no mention of me. I think you should Blog about how good a brother I am. How I set the bar so amazingly low that you look good (probably better than you really are) by comparison and how I didn’t beat you for watching David Letterman in my bed while you ate crackers when you should have been asleep. Also…how I handled mom and dad having children 14 years apart (which was an alternative lifestyle then), and how I never did anything really bad to you even though you could be irritating when you were young (and will grow out of it soon, I hope).
Also…how I was a “Brother Reader” and read “Horton Hatches an Egg” to your kindergarten class. Also, How I didn’t beat you when you would wave at the people selling flowers at I-45 and 1960 and they would walk over to the car (back then, kids could sit in the front seat in their car-seats). Also…how I used to drive with the sunroof and windows open in the car because you liked it…even if it were 212 degrees. "

It's true - I did eat crackers in his bed. Although I don't know about the irritating bit. I still like to drive with the windows down and the sunroof open in the Texas heat. I no longer wave to the vagrants selling flowers on the highway - but if it pushed Jimmy's buttons I probably would if we were riding together.

Yeah, as big brothers go, I'd say I got pretty lucky.

Summer Reading:
The books I’ve read:
Reading Lolita in Tehran – excellent, hard to fathom that it’s non-fiction
A Wrinkle in Time – Yet again, but it’s a great
A Wind in the Door – A wee book, but great ideas
Into Thin Air – About a doomed Mt. Everest expedition, grim but interesting
We Were the Mulvaneys – Biggest waste of time ever. Ever. Ever.
The World According to Garp – A little wacky, but definitely worth it.
A Widow for a Year – My least favorite John Irving that I’ve read- too far reaching and unbelievable.
Ten Minutes from Normal – Yes, this is Karen Hughes memoir. No, I don’t agree with everything she says – particularly about Bush. But, a really interesting read about a highly successful woman who tried to put her family first in everything she did.
The Poisonwood Bible – Really excellent, well written. Falls into one of my favorite books category.
Secret Garden, Secret Window – the novella by Stephen King that the movie Secret Window was taken from.

The books I’m still working on and hope to finish before London:
Absalom, Absalom – Beautiful.
Eats, Shoots and Leaves – Grammar beware.

The Flaming Lips said, “happiness makes you cry,” and I say that life is a series of adaptations.

Tonight is a night in which I will turn out my light and stare sleeplessly at my ceiling and rather than find satisfaction in the silence feel only the vapid sucking of time past my window.

I’m working up to a good cry – I can sense it like animals sense the atmospheric changes preceding a tornado.

Not a sad cry, or a mad cry – just a long-over-due-completely-irrational-making-sure-my-tear-ducts-are-working cry.

Ch-Ch-Changes…are coming my way in the form of a couple of plane tickets and a key to a flat. And all London really means to me tonight is a place on the far side of familiar.

Worry has been my struggle lately. Worry in the form of a rather nasal voice that belongs to the skinny, middle-aged librarian that works in the archives in the back of my mind and wears orthopedic shoes everyday.

She points her finger and says, “Everything bad that can happen, will happen, to the people you love while you are away across the ocean.”

“Shut up you old bag, your shoes are ugly, your face is pinched and you smell of moth balls and dust and stale cellar air,” I say.

Then she gets huffy and bustles off to reorganize a file cabinet. She’ll be back, I owe her a paycheck. Still. By that time, I may be on my way.

People say time flies, and I agree that happiness makes your face awfully wet.

Knickers in an Uproar
 
Last night I laughed so hard  that I had tears streaming down my face.  I guess that's what happens when you get my mom and I and my aunt and two cousins together.

Yesterday I got massive quantites of water up my nose doing underwater flips with my 11 year old cousin.  We also made amazing salsa.

The week before I was in Austin watching my 15/16 ish cousin play some wicked volleyball - she can take your head off.

In short, my family rocks my face off!   I'm so glad they're here.

 

Hello Blog, I've missed you.
I haven't written anything in a while - not a blog, not letters or e-mails, not even very many journal entries. I guess I'm still looking for words.

But I feel as though if I don't start writing again soon I'll just get flabby.

A while ago...

In eighth grade we had to memorize Emma Lazarus' "New Colossus." "Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

I wish I remembered it all. I realized last week that I was born with the American Dream in my tightly closed fist. That I have never had to look for it because I am a favored daughter of the lady with the lamp.

Last week I talked with a woman who lived in fear of her life for over 30 years all the time looking for her entrance to this free land. Land of the Pilgrim's pride, where my father's died, but not her's.

She, orphaned at 15. She, waiting for her chance and that of her family's. She, wearing now only to church the brightly colored sari's of Sri Lanka.

Land where I've never questioned my freedoms but worn them as peacock feathers in my cap.

"The first year I was here, I did not like the fireworks because of the sound," she said, miming the action of a machine gun with her arms.

She told me of a church and a bomb and a world where her family was singled out because of their faith. She told me this as we watched fireworks light the sky above the Wal-Mart Garden Center. She knowing that her two children and the rest of the family were watching the same fireworks - safe and sound. Later they would share the watermelon she took home with her.

"I like them now," she said, smiling as she saw the red and green and white explosions. "It is peaceful here."

And I looked in my hand and saw the dream and freedoms I have taken for my birthright. And I looked in her face and saw only gratitude for the life that was peaceful here.

To see the fourth day of the seventh month through an immigrant's eyes is an experience which humbles.

"El sueno Americano es para todos," said President Bush, addressing the national council of La Raza. "The American Dream is for everyone."

Only when I looked at Philo. Only when I heard her story. Did I realize how true a statement that is. Only when I looked at Philo - who reached out and grabbed the dream.