and after the party, there's the after party....

Tonight, Krissy and I are staying with my aunt, uncle, and cousins, their terrier, golden retriever puppy, four cats, and four one-month-old Siamese kittens. These kittens are unbelievably cute. They were exploring, pouncing, wrestling, leap-frogging off the bed. We could have played with them for hours. Although Kristen and my cousin Iaian told me it was a sign of psychopathy in me that I was curious how a kitten would react to being picked up by the tail. (I would never have actually tried it!)

Tomorrow is the day that I am a "graduand",

Part of speech: n
Definition: a degree candidate about to graduate

and I got a delicious pair of shoes for the occasion. This wouldn't be Redeemer if there were enough seats for the guests, so a number of my family members will be watching me graduate from the gym via video feed. I did manage to wrangle seven tickets for the auditorium instead of the original three offered by the school, but I'm still a bit short. I think we should just rent an arena as Fleming does. Seems like a good idea to me...

Nevertheless, this is very exciting now that it's here. Reflection can come later. For now, I am eagerly anticipating the itinerary I received in a letter from the Registrar's Office:

19:15 - 10:45 a.m. / Coffee Social sponsored by Alumni Association
10:45 - 11:00 / Welcome/Instructions
11:00 - 12:00 / Rehearsal
12:00 - 1:11 p.m. / Graduation Luncheon
1:15 - 1:35 / Donning academic regalia (my dad would love this description)
1:35 - 1:50 / Instructions and lining up
1:50 - 2:00 / Proceed to auditorium
2:00 - 4:00 / Commencement Ceremony
4:00 - 5:00 / Reception
4:00 - 5:30 / Return academic regalia

Graduands are reminded: "You are expected to attend all the functions, including the rehearsal. If you do not attend the rehearsal, you will not participate in the ceremony." We're also reminded that "Sunday best" is appropriate for the luncheon (my shoes on their own could meet and exceed any dress code), and told that it will be enjoyable. I find this dictatorial letter strangely fascinating and I look over it again and again.

but when they do, they're inseparable

My sister came home with us yesterday. She was going to spend the summer living and working in "rural Ottawa", but she (or we? my mother and me?) changed her mind (sacrificed grammar for rhyme there). Anyway, we went to my aunt's cottage for the weekend, and found out while we were there that Krissy was coming back with us.

My sister is probably my best friend. She's been with me through everything. Our personalities are almost opposite, and we can be really hard on each other, but there is no one who knows me better. We share interests, memories, pain, and love. And you know, I wouldn't have thought it possible, but at two a.m. last night, we had what was maybe the most honest conversation we've ever had. And we generally don't hold back. I'm looking forward to growing with her this summer.

hello Knut!

A polar bear from the Berlin zoo who has become an Internet star:

the park

(from the Feist album, The Reminder, released Tuesday)

lyrics I can't get out of my head:

Why would he come back through the park?
You thought that you saw him, but no, you did not.
It's not him who'd come across the sea to surprise you,
Not him who would know where in London to find you.

Sadness so real that it populates
The city and leaves you homeless again.
Steam from the cup and snow on the path,
The seasons have changed from present to past.

(The past
Turns whole to half)

Why would he come back through the park?
You thought that you saw him, but no, you did not.
Who can be sure of anything through
The distance that keeps you from knowing the truth?
Why would you think your boy could become
The man who could make you sure he was the one?

Her voice, her lyrics... what a magical combination. Practically perfect in every way?

Don't know who I'm talking about?

[click]

serenity sets in

I'll try to make this as verbose as possible.

As of 6:15 pm today, I am quite sure that I will, after all, be graduating from Redeemer on May 26th (God willing, as ever). This has been a very real doubt for most of the past semester, eating away at my soul, as I saw seven prior semesters of hard work being brought to naught.

I had a really good talk with the Lord, about whether or not I would graduate, at 3:30 am on Monday morning when I was walking home from Tim Hortons (where I had just written out an essay by hand). I told Him that I felt that I had learned what I was supposed to from the struggles of this semester. I told him that I didn't see what point there was to my failing a course and having to go back to school, but that if that was what He wanted, I would try to reconcile myself to it. Then I left it in His hands as best I could.

But I guess He saw fit to let me pass. Apparently, professors, bless them, don't deduct as many late marks as they claim they will (read: they rarely deduct any), at least, not from students in the second semester of their fourth year.

So, all that I have left to do, course-wise, is one last (overdue) paper. I am really enjoying the process, although my current state of relieved euphoria is making it harder to focus on the work.

A summer of joy is already shining before my bloodshot eyes, dazzling and yet refreshing them with the peaceful delights it might hold.

This summer? I think I may:

• enjoy the bliss of being a university graduate
• stay up late or wake up early or both
• lie in the sun
• daydream and spin unrealistic dream-webs
• enjoy created beauty
• go camping
• and swimming
• and canoeing
• write poetry or maybe my memoirs
• talk to God and listen for an answer
• read lots of the books I've been meaning to
• volunteer
• play with my little brothers
• help my aunt and uncle renovate their new cottage
• hang out with my mother
• visit friends far and near
• be Heather's bridesmaid
• and then Amber's maid of honour
• and a guest at some other weddings
• apply for jobs for the fall
• let my spirit rest

That's just what occurs to me off the top of my head.

Because, to be honest, I really don't know. Isn't that lovely?

findings from essay research

This passage from an article I came across in the course of my studies brings back to mind a lot of issues I was contemplating last summer, which I desire to bring to bear on my post-grad life. Possessions: burden? blessing? both?

"Even small pieces of excess baggage may mean the difference between success and failure in reaching our heart's desire. As the hobbits reach the end of their endurance, Sam realizes they must strip themselves of their remaining pitiful possessions, which literally weigh them down:

" 'I've been thinking, Mr. Frodo, there's other things we might do without. Why not lighten the load a bit? We're going that way now, as straight as we can make it.' He pointed to the Mountain. 'It's no good taking anything we're not sure to need.'
"Frodo looked on again towards the Mountain. 'No,' he said, 'we shan't need much on that road. And at its end nothing.'

"The more things we surround ourselves with, the more we usually think we need. One of the hardest aspects of monastic life is that it is not enough to renounce one's possessions once. Around the time of entering the monastery or making final vows one is, wuite appropriately, filled with ardor and really intends and desires with all one's being to give everything up for the sake of Christ. But it turns out that the desire to possess keeps creeping back, and we make little nests for ourselves -- a favorite chair or sink, a way of arranging our choir books, an occupation no one is permitted to take from us. An early monastic story describes a monk who gave up great wealth, then gets bent out of shape because some other monk has walked off with his pen. This is human nature -- we keep grasping, and God in his mercy keeps taking away. Because the truth is, we need very little on our road to God -- and at its end, nothing.

"As a result of the ever-growing magnitude of his struggle with the Ring and its temptations, Frodo is well beyond the point at which this small dispossession can have any significance for him. But for Sam this final stripping of all superfluity is not without pain. As he takes everything out of his pack to sort through it, he grieves over his small things: 'Somehow each of them had become dear to him, if only because he had borne them so far with so much toil. . . . Tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of casting it away". Isn't that how it is with us? We have invested so much in what we have, whether this be physical possessions, or employments, or experiences of prayer, or friendships, or any of the things we may be called to let go of. We have put so much labor into them; how can we give them up? The pain of letting go may even stop us from doing what we know would be best for ourselves. But sometimes, when we know it is right, we are given the grace to do it. Sam 'carried all the gear away to one of the many gaping fissures that scored the land and threw them in. The clatter of his precious pans as they fell down into the dark was like a death-knell to his heart'. It is indeed a little death to us, a losing of part of ourselves, which we can undertake only for the sake of those deepest desires we cherish above all. What sounds like a 'death-knell' to our aching hearts may in reality be the ringing of a joyful carillon in heaven."

(O'Neill, Kathleen . '"Tolkien's Lord of the Rings: A Cistercian Perspective." Cistercian Studies Quarterly 40.3 (2005): 293-324.)

Adriel, too, got me thinking with her recent post:

"Another thing that I learned through my work marathon is that just because I have more free time as a result of not being in school doesn't mean that I should fill it with constant activity - specifically planned activity. One of the houses I work at is short staffed right now, and I appreciate both the paycheck and the feeling that comes with being helpful. But that doesn't mean it's a good thing. I don't enjoy life as much."

I notice with myself that as soon as my schedule clears, I often start making promises to everyone about what I will do with/for them -- "Oh yeah, I'll be done exams soon, and then I'll have tons of time." -- to the extent of booking myself so tightly I have no breathing room, or even double-booking. (Then, as often as not, I feel so overwhelmed that I do nothing.)

It's always so tempting when I do some spring cleaning in any area of my life to fill the figurative crawlspace up with new stuff: "Oh, now I have room to [get involved in/learn about/purchase/watch/listen to/read] this!"

What will it really mean, I wonder, to live simply?

coming soon

Well, I'm officially 22, as of [Good] Friday at 5:39 P.M. EST. (By the way, the birthday celebrations -- all 4 of them! -- were fantastic. Such a fun and relaxing weekend.) 22's not much of a milestone birthday, but there really was something to 21. I feel that I came of age in the last year. It was meaningful from start (in England, with anticipation) --> middle (a dozen or so nation-states and a dozen dozen states of mind) --> finish (in Peterborough, with paradoxical peace). It hasn't been an easy year, but I have learned very much. One lesson: my failures can be to God's glory.

Furthermore, I realise that over the course of this year, I've come to view myself as a woman, instead of as a girl.

On the surface, I am pretty heavily burdened right now, what with papers, plays, and personal responsibilities of numerous other kinds. Inside, though, God is breaking one chain after another, with incredible speed. At this point, I have no idea where I will be in a year, or even at the end of the summer, but I am open to anything, even to uncertainty itself, in a way that I wasn't before.

Right now, I am mainly thinking short-term, as the list of assignments to complete slowly gets shorter, and the list of weddings to attend/be an attendant in quickly gets longer, but I know that there are big things to come.

So, ring it in -- it's time for my new year with a fresh serving of failing, succeeding, wailing, pleading, giggling, resting, wiggling, testing, disappointing, satisfying, anointing, trying, hoping, praying, coping, staying, going, believing, knowing, receiving, giving, and generally living.

Should be intense.

april fools...

[if you can't read this. . . click to enlarge]

Oh Facebook! It is cruel to tease.

next of kind...

I received a strange email the other day. This obscure business proposal could be the chance of a lifetime! But I don't know if I should go for it. . . what do you think?

It says:

"Reply

"I am Mr.Lee Raymond Wing Hung, Chief Financial Officer, Bank of China, Tower Branch,Hong Kong. I have an obscure business proposal for you.Before the U.S and Iraqi war, our client Aajel Jaber Hassef a Merchant made a fixed deposit of 24.5mUSD,for 18months,in my branch.Upon maturity several notices were sent to him,during and after the war which began in 2003.We later found out that my client, his wife and two sons had been killed during the war. What bothers me most is that according to the laws of my country, at the expiration of 4yrs the funds will revert to the ownership of the Hong Kong Government,if nobody applies to claim it.I will like you,as a foreigner,to stand as next of kind,so that we can receive his funds.

"Your earliest response to this letter will be appreciated.

"Kind Regards,

"LEE."

a poem for the day

Come now, beat down on me
Sun, orange, hot,
To tan me or burn me
It matters not
For your anger and joy
Are the same to me
What I crave
Is your intensity

today

. . . is Stephen Colbert Day in the 'Shwa!

Sadly, this could never have happened in Peterborough. (Because unlike Oshawa, the Petes would never have lost to the Saginaw Spirit.)

In other news, I have eight (8) assignments overdue at present.

I know.

But God still loves me.

Bangla Idol

Don't bother watching it unless you intend to stick with it to the end.
I feel that it pays off.
(Thank you, Beth, for sharing!)

An Elegy, Composed on my Laptop

literally.
for that is all you are now
a glorified desk
no longer will I view your glowing desktop

which shone hot and bright
late into the night
with all its might
for my delight

my jukebox
my theatre
my workshop
my living room
my friend

I miss you, friend.
or should I say false friend?
false frayed friend
you played me for a fool!

when silver strands slipped sleazily
from your slender black cord
oh, I knew our days were numbered
you burned for me I know

now you have burnt out

I was a fool
abusive
dragged you there and
there and
there and
there and back again
addicted

but oh! your bronze skin!
cold and smooth
embossed from T to A
oh but you were a fine specimen!

when you were in your prime
didn’t we get the looks?
didn’t we get the stares?
weren’t they all so jealous?

and even still,
I’d get the comments
“nice! is that new?”
(from those who missed the missing shift key)

that line down your side
it flickered a warning
but I paid no heed

you left me when I needed you most

three words might summon you back
I Summon You?
no, P. S. P.
instead I regard this as an answered prayer

two nights of revelry

our wine & cheese (o2/03/07)

and the chocolate banquet (09/03/07)

shul shenanigans

This morning, Sarah and I were going to go to a reformed synagogue for world religions class. We were pretty excited about it too, and got up early (considering it's Saturday) to make it in good time for Shabbat morning service.

We spent about 40 minutes going along Main St. looking for the turn we wanted (Marion), only to discover when we got home and Mapquested it that we shouldn't have taken the 403, because we had completely bypassed the part of Main we wanted. Ugh.

However, it was a great morning anyway. We stopped at Locke St. to look in the shops -- antiques, art, flowers, organic food, mmmm -- and then went to Starbucks for coffee.

We also made an impromptu decision to have a wine and cheese party! Tonight.

And I have to say, it is going to be very pretty.

(Right now, we're just hoping people will come.)

true fasting at lent

Last night was the I Am Coming benefit at Redeemer. I Am Coming is a grassroots organization started this year by some young people (Jay Brock and Jen Standish, I believe) in Hamilton who wanted to do something about the monstrous worldwide problem of sex trafficking.

The goal is threefold:

• To raise wide-scale awareness of the injustices of trafficking (along with rape and sexual slavery).


• To raise financial resources to combat human trafficking for purposes of sexual exploitation.
  
• To raise political support to implement a worldwide mandatory minimum sentence of 20 years in prison for sex trafficking.

Jay Brock spoke. He was very sincere, and the stories that he shared with us were. . . painful and scary. I'm not going to repeat them here, but those stories connect with me so much more than any statistics. One thing they did really well last night was to remind us: That could be me. If you want to know more about this topic, I'd recommend The Natashas, a book from which Jay read.

There was a lot of talk at the benefit about "rescuing" girls from exploitation. It's language that is bound to come up with groups like I Am Coming or International Justice Mission, and sometimes it comes across as paternalistic. I've thought about that and talked about it with other people a lot, especially because these are the kinds of organizations that I might like for one day (say, if I ever follow through with the law school idea).

And I think that it might be okay to err on the side of paternalism, as long as we remember that we're not the Father. "Rescue" is generally used about God's action in the Bible, not ours, because he is the only one who truly can rescue.

But if we're operating from a humility in which we allow God to work, if we don't allow ourselves to make rescue something simplistic -- remembering that true healing can take a long time -- then I think the language of rescue can be very effective. Partly because it reminds us that in the midst of our "rescuing" others, God is also rescuing us.

"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:

to loose the chains of injustice

and untie the cords of the yoke,

to set the oppressed free

and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry

and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—

when you see the naked, to clothe him,

and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,

and your healing will quickly appear;

then your righteousness will go before you,

and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;

you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I."

Chisai Jackson and Turn Off the Stars both played at the benefit. Both were good, though they kind of served as background music for socializing. I did buy Chisai's CD.

Redeemer artists painted to raise funds and awareness. I think the paintings were what really grabbed a lot of people's attention.

One of the artists was my roommate Sarah, who created this piece, entitled Talitha Koum:

The photograph does it no justice, though.

my brother is. . .

. . . almost too cute to bere!

Not to mention one of the two best little hockey players I know.

The end.

The gravestone of the unknown soldier, from when he was buried in France. The room is designed so that at precisely 11:00 on November 11 every year, a shaft of light comes in the window to illuminate the stone.

Oh my. The Afghanistan exhibit.

Part of the Berlin Wall.

We have seen the face of peace.

And it is not what we expected.