I'm back

Work has been so crazy stressful the past few weeks that I have winced at the thought of even touching my laptop when I come home. I know myself too well, and I know that something I see online will trigger a memory of work, and I will undoubtedly check my e-mail "really quickly." Before I know it, I'm sucked in. Maybe I'm a workaholic, or maybe part of me didn't even want to place my fingers on another keyboard.

The craziness has calmed temporarily, and my level of stress has diminished significantly.

I spent most of my non-working hours (which weren't very many, trust me) involved in hot yoga and taking long baths.

And I'm reading again. For some time books have not been able to pique my interest at all. I'm very thankful that that season is over.

I become more and more convinced that the person I am manifests itself in stages. Parts of me, of course, will never change, but life is full of phases and periods and semesters and seasons. Appetites and preferences change. And life goes on.

Loving life.

Stole this...

from Rachel Mitchell

Excrement!

Why do we feel the need to analyze everything to death? We like everything in our lives to fit, to balance. We definitely don't want to think of our lives as mathematically based, but in essence, that is what we desire.

A poignant scene from Dead Poets Society dismisses the idea that poetry (or any form of art) can be reduced to a mathematical formula.



One thing I hope and pray that I grasp about life is that it cannot be analyzed and forced into linear equations. While God gave us reason and intellect, he also gave us emotions. Sometimes life just can't be put into words.

One day I will have clouds on my wall

At Bob Jones, every student is forced given the privilege to take a long tour through the Museum & Gallery, which is actually a "prime" Greenville attraction. It is one of the largest collections of religious art in the country. I was nerdy and loved it, but I had enough sense to pretend like I hated it to stay cool. Anyway, fourth semester Spanish required this huge project on Spanish art, and I spent a LOT of time in the M&G. I can't say I regretted it; it only deepened my respect and appreciation for the arts.

In art, the color blue represents hope (very understated definition, I know). It makes complete sense. I used to stare up into the sky and wish its blueness would just envelop me. I felt like the sky was its own world, and we earthlings were only allowed a glimpse into its depths.

My love of the sky and clouds continues. It's so strong that this afternoon I hung up on my friend and nearly wrecked my car trying to take pictures of the gorgeous sunset with my phone.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands."

dreaming out loud

I stumbled upon this site that is a goldmine of w.c. pelon's poetry and immediately fell in love. I want this poem written all pretty and placed on my wall to make me smile every day:

there is no justice
no truth no forgiveness
no getting around it
and no turning back

there are only shadows
of you and me

and splinters of light
where hope breaks between

Axel Haunts Me Everywhere I Go

One of my lifelong dreams is to have a library in my house. Just a small library, nothing huge like the Stockholm Public Library:
Am I a total nerd for putting this on my list of places to visit? Victoria Falls, Grand Canyon, Stockholm Public Library... (And I even loathe Scandinavians).

Yes, please

This picture is calling my name. I have 41(ish) hours of PTO I need to take before the end of December. Beach, anyone?