It's 12:45 AM and there are birds chirping outside. What's the dealy-yo?!

MUST BE

Must be that the world's gone blind
Must be that the world's gone blind
I can't believe that we could see some things and just go on with our lives
Well it must be that the world is blind

Must be that the world's gone dumb
Must be that the world's gone dumb
I can't believe that we could sit so silent in light of all that God has done
Well it must be that the world is dumb

Must be that the world's gone lame
Must be that the world's gone lame
I can't believe that we could sit so still while the furious fan the flames
Well it must be that the world is lame

Must be that the world's been saved
Must be that the world's been saved
The blind will see; The dumb will talk; The chains will fall, and the lame will walk; and the dead will rise from the grave
Well it must be that the world's been saved.

-Lost and Found

I have a butt-crack for a teacher.

Allow me to give you some history. I loved him the first day. On the first day he said that everyone should learn a foreign language and go to Europe and write. I thought to myself, "Self, you will love this class! This sounds right up your alley." Then I missed two days of said class because I went to Europe. When I got back, my "teacher" read us a poem entitled Taking the clothes off Emily Dickenson. Further story-telling revealed that this man has had a "vision" of Emily, during which she sang a song to him that he immediately got up to play on his guitar. This was twenty-some-odd years ago and he's been studying her ever since. History of Professor in short: drugs.

This leads me to my point. We had an assignment to do an annotated bibliography on the Arthurian legends. Fine. He said we couldn't use the Internet because he wanted us to actually use books. (I must admit this was the first time in a LONG time that I was in the Lewisville Public Library.) Our last project we only used the internet, and now we only use books=we learn both, so I'm fine. Then he says that it has to be HAND-WRITTEN. not fine. NOT FINE AT ALL! We had a list of 12 characters, legends, etc. so an annotated bib. is going to be like 9000 pages. Hand write that and it's at least 9 million pages. Harder to grade for him, harder work for us, not proving anything. I don't get it.

So, like I said, my teacher is psychotic.

Reasons the ski trip was fantastic (in no particular order):
Learned the term "huck:" to jump off of. Thanks Steve.
I "hucked" the jump that I either chickened-out or wiped on several times before.
Finished Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott
Laughed until I could no longer breathe, and thought I would never breathe again.
Got a $400 flight voucher to take a later flight. Should I go to Cancun or Anchorage?

"My idea of everything going smoothly on an airplane is (a) that I not die in a slow-motion fiery crash or get stabbed to death by terrorists and (b) that none of the other passengers try to talk to me. All conversation should end at the moment the wheels leave the ground." -Anne Lamott

This was the very first paragraph I read as I waited for our flight to Denver to take off. My thoughts exactly. I was seated between two complete strangers and was already laughing out loud (hoping they wouldn't ask me why I was laughing, or what I was reading, or...anything at all.)

Surprisingly, the travel did go quite smoothly. No lost bags, no "random" security checks, no sleeping on the streets. The strangers didn't talk to me. And, like I said, my family got flight vouchers. The only hitch in the get-up was that I got so sick on the way that I thought I would die...then I hoped I would die...then I prayed I would die. It was the weirdest thing. I was reading and fine one minute and white as a ghost the next. I had woken up with a back-ache but had to bend completely in half and put my head between my knees in order to keep from passing out. I was shaking and my teeth were chattering but was sweating profusely. And, while all of this was happening I was in the middle seat. No easy escape. It was so sudden that I was remembering all the horror stories I've ever heard of people who think they're healthy but then whose fevers spike to like 108 and they're dead an hour later. So, obviously, I became convinced that I had meningitis or some other lethal, highly contagious disease.

I didn't. I was fine. My near-death experience was over as suddenly as it started. By the time we landed I was as good as new. From then on the ski trip was fantastic.

My economics prof. has put all of his notes on the school's web-site, so this morning I signed on with the intent of studying for my test. Next thing I knew I had read all the blogs on my list (and more) and now I think I'll go eat breakfast...and maybe lunch too. Anyone out there not a procrastinator that would like to share helpful hints?

I have read Bird by Bird and the first 7 pages of Traveling Mercies and have decided that when I grow up I would like to be Anne Lamott.

"I bowed my head in bed and prayed, because I believed--not in Jesus--but in someone listening, someone who heard. I do not understand how that came to be; I just know I always believed and that I did not tell a soul. I did not tell a soul...because I wanted to be loved, and so I stood around silently, bursting with hope and secrets and fear, all skin and bone and eyes..."

Unrelated to Anne Lamott or the previous quote: I feel as though I just got punched in the stomach. Strange how words can do that to you.

Tonight my friend Jordan and I were discussing how truly joyful some people are. Those people who really just love life, and when bad stuff happens they somehow find good in it (that is if you ever even know that bad stuff happens, because most of the time those people are also more focused on your day than there own, even if theirs sucked). You know the type? "half-full" kind of people. I'm not one. I'm not going to elaborate but I'm really not one. Anyone have the secret? How does that all work? (If you tell me "it's a choice" I may...ummm...I don't know...but it'll be really bad.)

"What is a slut?" according to the girls who sit behind me in Literature.

Sally: you're a slut.
Norma: no. I would be a slut if I was sleeping with John, Jacob, Jingle-heimer, and Smith.
Sally: only two of them.
Norma: well... I haven't slept with Jingle-heimer in like a month.
Sally: and Smith?
Norma: like a week.

The moral of the story: you're only a slut if you're sleeping with 4+ guys. 2 is acceptable.

*the names were changed to protect the sluts (and male equivalents.)

Just got back from a fun-filled night down in Dallas with Steve, Lindsey, JIB, and Jay the ex-roomie/non-blogger. Purpose of the trip: buy Switchfoot tickets. accomplished. Thanks guys. Good stories Hansel(s).
Maybe it's just the effect of the post-caffine bottomless pit of fatigue, but it feels like a Friday night and I feel like I'm missing something. The past few days I really just want to write and think, but I don't like how I think, and I REALLY am not liking how I write. So, instead, I started making a mental list of all the lies that I believe. Why do we do that? How come I can KNOW that the message I'm receiving is a lie, and believe it anyway?
"If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy; if it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But, arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world, this makes it hard to plan the day!" --E.B. White

My friend Ryan reminded me tonight that exactly a year ago we were on our 10-day outreach from Capernwray. We all left the school in teams, scattered across the UK, and joined up with churches and their various youth clubs. I spent the week teaching Religious Education classes to 12 year olds in public schools, preaching, and doing skits/games. I just went back and read my 20+ page journal from the event. I forgot some of the things that God did through that time so it was good to be reminded of that, but there were a lot of frustrations that I would rather never EVER read again. I don't think I've ever met more discouraging people then I did that week.
On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, I went to Pine Cove this weekend and was greatly encouraged by several people (mainly Abby). So often I convince myself, or allow others to convince me, that this is home. I forgot to be homesick for a while and was, for lack of a better word, sad when I realized.

Sometimes I think of Abraham
How one star he saw had been lit for me
He was a stranger in this land
And I am that, no less than he
And on this road to righteousness
Sometimes the climb can be so steep
I may falter in my steps
But never beyond Your reach

Oh God, You are my God
And I will ever praise You
-Rich Mullins