I went to my very first class since May 2011 on Monday. I was half an hour early and I donated SEVERAL quarters to Iowa City because I hadn't quite figured out parking and decided I'd rather be safe than sorry on my very first day of school.
I went to the Campus Christian Fellowship office after class for a kick-off-the-year pizza party (also pretty early). I walked into the room, dropped my backpack, and announced to the five or six people there: "I HAVE HOMEWORK!!!"
To which the popular reply has been: "Kaycee, you're sick!"
I've spent the past year trying to read and research things just to keep my brain working, to keep learning things. I've been creating my own studies to keep my mind engaged and remember how to be a student. It's been like a stray dog digging through the garbage for food--and hey, to the dog, half of a week-old cheeseburger is delicious!
But then I walked into lecture on Wednesday afternoon, and this woman (albeit a tad eccentric, and by all appearances not necessarily in tune with the real world outside of academia) stood at the podium, clicking through slide after slide of a power point, setting plate after plate of knowledge before this starving student. I was handed three pages of notes in less than an hour! College students have this nasty habit of packing up their bags before the professor is done talking so they can skedaddle just as fast as they can once class is over, but I was sad when the intellectual meal was over!
I walked into CCF after that class, and one of my dear friends there said, "Oh, she has that after-lecture glow!" I did. It was almost like being in love again!
It's been a pretty crazy and slightly overwhelming week, though. I spent all summer long getting barely 30 hours a week at work and wondering what in the world to do with my life, and now that school has started I'm suddenly getting 40 hours a week, we transitioned several kiddos into our room for the first time (which is always a bit of a challenge!), and now I have homework, CCF and Salt Company are kicking up for the year, I'm still working on how to fit two plasma donations into my week (keeping in mind that I can't have caffeine on plasma days!), and poor lil' miss Gracie Lynn is wondering where in the world her mommy disappears to all day every day. She wasn't speaking to me the last couple of days until I finally snuggled in for a nap with her after a CCF camping trip this morning.
People do crazy things to pursue their dreams.
During the discussion section of the class I am taking, we did introductions: what's your interest in English, what year are you, and one interesting thing about you. How in the world do I answer those questions in under five minutes? I stumbled through my answer, trying to quickly summarize my explanation of how I'm a junior but yet this is my first class in Iowa while still maintaining my dignity as a 21 year old who should be a senior now. I told my class that this was the only class I was taking this semester because I'm working full-time while I was at it, and there were a couple of muffled "wow"s around the room. I almost laughed. You don't know the half of it!
Meanwhile, as I'm acquiring a taste for cheap coffee and cramming study sessions at a short table in the school age room during lunch breaks, I'm still working on resident status. I had a tough time getting a hold of my tax returns for some reason, but finally succeeded! Now I just need to get my parents' tax returns. And a notarized statement saying that I intend to claim myself as an independent in the years to come. And a notarized statement from my parents saying they do not intend to claim me in the years to come. And "proof of employment," whatever in the world THAT'S supposed to mean. My boss suggested a pay stub, I sure hope that does it!
I'm in this for the long haul. I don't really know how long this is going to take me. I'd like to try for two classes next semester, but I'm not sure how feasible it will be both finantically-speaking as well as time-wise. Until then though, I shall enjoy with all my heart my long-awaited return to academia!
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Writing, Reading, and Cleaning
This is what I do with my summer! Of course, it took me all summer long to be okay with that.
You see, Iowa City kind of has its way of shutting down in the summer. All of the campus ministries slow down (when they aren't stopped completely), lots of people leave to spend summer at home, on mission trips, studying abroad, etc.; some people leave for good because they've graduated or it's just time to transfer. And besides, I've only been here for a year (almost). That's not quite long enough to make friends you can call up in the middle of the night and say, "Hey, let's go wander around WalMart! It'll be AWESOME!!!"
Parents pull their kids out of daycare for the summer in Iowa City because half of them work for the University, so during the summer they can stay home with their kiddos. Which means there are less hours needed from the employees. Which means I only work 30 hours a week. And then clock out and hang out with the babies and all my kids who turned 2 and moved out of my room, because they're all cute and I have nothing better to do.
So I hang out at work after I get off. I donate plasma to make some extra bank (I'm gonna need it!). I read all the YA stuff that's fun to get sucked into for days at a time. I read poetry that I didn't really have time to sit down and bask in during the year. I read Shakespeare because I want something that will take up a LOT of this empty time that I have.
And I write my painfully rough draft of my WIP. I love the story, I love the world, and I love the characters; the problem is that I've been working on it for several years, and over the course of various life events, I have been several completely different people over the course of the past several years. My main characters always have a tendency to take after all of my issues, so poor Princess Inirae has run the gamut of all of my emotional distress and faced all of my problems with me and has thus sufficiently destroyed the arc of my story. Needless to say, Nostras is in a state of chaos that must be cleaned up. My goal is to pound through a rough draft by the time I go home for Labor Day so I can go to Kinkos and print it out so I can start my editing process.
When I need to get off my butt and do something, I've been cleaning. Because this chicka is going to be starting school a week from Monday! So let's set off on the right foot and have an organized office and a clean apartment to come home to! After all, I am incredibly blessed to be able to stay here another year, bats and cockroaches and all!
I have every intention of my last week of summer being productive, and I'm looking forward to putting this summer behind me!
Quick Update: As most of you know, I applied to the University for resident status. They sent me a letter that said something to the effect of: "We got your application. Now go on another scavenger hunt and spend more hours of your life on this process, send us an even thicker envelope than you did last time, and we'll look it over and let you know what we think." Moral of the story: One step closer, but it kinda feels like two steps back. At least they didn't just say "No,"... I think...
You see, Iowa City kind of has its way of shutting down in the summer. All of the campus ministries slow down (when they aren't stopped completely), lots of people leave to spend summer at home, on mission trips, studying abroad, etc.; some people leave for good because they've graduated or it's just time to transfer. And besides, I've only been here for a year (almost). That's not quite long enough to make friends you can call up in the middle of the night and say, "Hey, let's go wander around WalMart! It'll be AWESOME!!!"
Parents pull their kids out of daycare for the summer in Iowa City because half of them work for the University, so during the summer they can stay home with their kiddos. Which means there are less hours needed from the employees. Which means I only work 30 hours a week. And then clock out and hang out with the babies and all my kids who turned 2 and moved out of my room, because they're all cute and I have nothing better to do.
So I hang out at work after I get off. I donate plasma to make some extra bank (I'm gonna need it!). I read all the YA stuff that's fun to get sucked into for days at a time. I read poetry that I didn't really have time to sit down and bask in during the year. I read Shakespeare because I want something that will take up a LOT of this empty time that I have.
And I write my painfully rough draft of my WIP. I love the story, I love the world, and I love the characters; the problem is that I've been working on it for several years, and over the course of various life events, I have been several completely different people over the course of the past several years. My main characters always have a tendency to take after all of my issues, so poor Princess Inirae has run the gamut of all of my emotional distress and faced all of my problems with me and has thus sufficiently destroyed the arc of my story. Needless to say, Nostras is in a state of chaos that must be cleaned up. My goal is to pound through a rough draft by the time I go home for Labor Day so I can go to Kinkos and print it out so I can start my editing process.
When I need to get off my butt and do something, I've been cleaning. Because this chicka is going to be starting school a week from Monday! So let's set off on the right foot and have an organized office and a clean apartment to come home to! After all, I am incredibly blessed to be able to stay here another year, bats and cockroaches and all!
I have every intention of my last week of summer being productive, and I'm looking forward to putting this summer behind me!
~ * ~
Quick Update: As most of you know, I applied to the University for resident status. They sent me a letter that said something to the effect of: "We got your application. Now go on another scavenger hunt and spend more hours of your life on this process, send us an even thicker envelope than you did last time, and we'll look it over and let you know what we think." Moral of the story: One step closer, but it kinda feels like two steps back. At least they didn't just say "No,"... I think...
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Orientation: Take 2!
At the very beginning of orientation, the same lady as last year gave the same speech as last year in the same room as last year. The student guides introduced themselves the same way as last year, and when we broke off into smaller groups, they explained the same stuff as last year. I suppose there really isn't a problem with repeating the exact same orientation program every year: They don't usually have repeat customers like me. Yes, I was alone this time around instead of bringing my parents with me, but I was otherwise excited this year. This was actually going to work. I knew what I was doing. I had a list of questions written down this time: I was totally prepared to get the answers I needed, I knew what I was looking for, and I was finally going to start school!
Well, I haven't dropped either of the two classes I signed up for yet, so at least that much is going over better than last year.
My advising appointment was in the same room as last year, but with a different person. Apparently I'm missing something when I hear students talk about "my advisor," because so far every single advising experience I have had at both Metro AND Iowa have been with "an advisor," not "my advisor." "An advisor" has access to your records and can tell you what class/credit to plug into the gaps in those records, but absolutely nothing beyond that. Unfortunately, the more time passes, the less traditional of a student I become and the bigger headache these "advising appointments" trigger.
And in all reality, very few of my questions had to do with credits. Yes, she was the first person who has actually been able to explain the creative writing track to me, but when I started asking her about tuition and/or residency, we've got nothin'. She was friendly, and she wanted to be helpful, which was saying a lot given every other advising experience I've ever had, but she didn't have the answers I needed.
She gave me a phone number for the residency department along with her sympathies (she was a grad student who had already fought the resident tuition war at another university), and I was terribly impressed by the fact that a human being answered the phone! She might as well have been a computer though for all the personality and courtesy she had. Moral of her story was I have to apply for resident status, and that doesn't happen until the first few weeks in June. So we have another month of uncertainty there.
I was able to attend an Honors Program orientation session that I didn't last year. It was first thing in the morning, and was therefore encouraging. The first half of orientation is always encouraging: it's the second half that can't seem to end well. He told us about the program, what we could do with it, and most importantly: Where it is located. "Drop in and introduce yourself," he said. "It's these peoples' jobs to help you, that's what they're paid to do," he said. "They are right there for you to take advantage of," he said. And silly little me believed him.
So I did drop in, in search of some kind of access to this plethora of scholarships that allegedly exists within the Honors Program... Somewhere. This person's door was open, and the receptionist told me to go on back. This faculty member herself however seemed pretty irritated that I was bothering her at all, because she was busy "preparing for an event this evening." I asked what her office hours were, and instead of answering me she asked if I could come in between classes.
No, I work full time.
Are you off in the afternoons?
No, I don't get off until about 5:30.
Well, could you come in tomorrow or Friday?
No, I am a FULL TIME WORKER!!! So I said, "That's okay, can I just email you?"
"No, because research shows that it takes an average of about 8 emails to set up an appointment."
"Okay, can I call you on a lunch break?"
"Yes, I don't usually leave my office during lunch, so you can give me a call and we can find a time that works for you to come in."
Okay, seriously lady, I've just told you three times that I work full time, and you've already blown all three of the minutes that you'd probably give me during this appointment anyway because all of you college/university faculty people just want to shove people out of your door as fast as humanly possible anyway. And I am still no closer to scholarships than I was this morning. Or a year ago, for that matter.
If you are currently a high school student, feel free to stop reading here because I am about to burst your bubble. Regardless of what anyone tells you, college is something you have to fight for completely on your own. No one really wants to help you, ever. If anyone ever claims to want to help you, they are blatantly lying to your face. (But that's okay, because most people say that in reference to someone else, and it's easier on their conscience to lie about someone else.)
But that's fine, because you know what? God gave me a bright mind and lots of cool talents, and He's gotten me through an awful lot with just the two of us perfectly fine already. And contrary to what many people connected to this university probably believe: God is bigger than the University of Iowa and all of their departments and rude, clueless people. And once I get past all of this business with tuition and residency, there is an awesome education to be had. So bring it, University of Iowa! You may tick me off beyond belief, but you don't scare me anymore!
I can do ALL THINGS through Christ who gives me strength!
Well, I haven't dropped either of the two classes I signed up for yet, so at least that much is going over better than last year.
My advising appointment was in the same room as last year, but with a different person. Apparently I'm missing something when I hear students talk about "my advisor," because so far every single advising experience I have had at both Metro AND Iowa have been with "an advisor," not "my advisor." "An advisor" has access to your records and can tell you what class/credit to plug into the gaps in those records, but absolutely nothing beyond that. Unfortunately, the more time passes, the less traditional of a student I become and the bigger headache these "advising appointments" trigger.
And in all reality, very few of my questions had to do with credits. Yes, she was the first person who has actually been able to explain the creative writing track to me, but when I started asking her about tuition and/or residency, we've got nothin'. She was friendly, and she wanted to be helpful, which was saying a lot given every other advising experience I've ever had, but she didn't have the answers I needed.
She gave me a phone number for the residency department along with her sympathies (she was a grad student who had already fought the resident tuition war at another university), and I was terribly impressed by the fact that a human being answered the phone! She might as well have been a computer though for all the personality and courtesy she had. Moral of her story was I have to apply for resident status, and that doesn't happen until the first few weeks in June. So we have another month of uncertainty there.
I was able to attend an Honors Program orientation session that I didn't last year. It was first thing in the morning, and was therefore encouraging. The first half of orientation is always encouraging: it's the second half that can't seem to end well. He told us about the program, what we could do with it, and most importantly: Where it is located. "Drop in and introduce yourself," he said. "It's these peoples' jobs to help you, that's what they're paid to do," he said. "They are right there for you to take advantage of," he said. And silly little me believed him.
So I did drop in, in search of some kind of access to this plethora of scholarships that allegedly exists within the Honors Program... Somewhere. This person's door was open, and the receptionist told me to go on back. This faculty member herself however seemed pretty irritated that I was bothering her at all, because she was busy "preparing for an event this evening." I asked what her office hours were, and instead of answering me she asked if I could come in between classes.
No, I work full time.
Are you off in the afternoons?
No, I don't get off until about 5:30.
Well, could you come in tomorrow or Friday?
No, I am a FULL TIME WORKER!!! So I said, "That's okay, can I just email you?"
"No, because research shows that it takes an average of about 8 emails to set up an appointment."
"Okay, can I call you on a lunch break?"
"Yes, I don't usually leave my office during lunch, so you can give me a call and we can find a time that works for you to come in."
Okay, seriously lady, I've just told you three times that I work full time, and you've already blown all three of the minutes that you'd probably give me during this appointment anyway because all of you college/university faculty people just want to shove people out of your door as fast as humanly possible anyway. And I am still no closer to scholarships than I was this morning. Or a year ago, for that matter.
If you are currently a high school student, feel free to stop reading here because I am about to burst your bubble. Regardless of what anyone tells you, college is something you have to fight for completely on your own. No one really wants to help you, ever. If anyone ever claims to want to help you, they are blatantly lying to your face. (But that's okay, because most people say that in reference to someone else, and it's easier on their conscience to lie about someone else.)
But that's fine, because you know what? God gave me a bright mind and lots of cool talents, and He's gotten me through an awful lot with just the two of us perfectly fine already. And contrary to what many people connected to this university probably believe: God is bigger than the University of Iowa and all of their departments and rude, clueless people. And once I get past all of this business with tuition and residency, there is an awesome education to be had. So bring it, University of Iowa! You may tick me off beyond belief, but you don't scare me anymore!
I can do ALL THINGS through Christ who gives me strength!
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Directionless Ramblings
When I was in elementary school, we learned about the Oregon Trail. We learned about how oodles and oodles of people loaded up everything that they could into covered wagons, sold everything else, and completely uprooted themselves and traveled west in the face of great opposition in order to create a better life for themselves and their children. On occasion, some couldn't take the challenge, and they had to go back East.
When I was in community college, we learned about how eastern nations like Japan looked at Western culture and tried to emulate their artwork, traveled there for education, and saw the lifestyles of the Europeans as more "advanced."
Perhaps this is why, when I tried to leave Iowa City on Friday to go visit Omaha, that I got on I-80 East instead of I-80 West.
Iowa City is my own personal "West." It's a "Wild West" that isn't tamed, but is submerged in a culture that draws a very definite line in the sand. Those who straddle that line are pulled quickly to the side of the world. There is opposition here, though granted much of it is the same opposition that comes from entering adulthood no matter where you are living. But I came here in search of a better life, I came here for culture and education. And had it occurred that I couldn't take it, I would have had to have returned to Omaha, where I came from. Omaha is my "East."
So according to every history class I've taken, Iowa City is "West" and Omaha is "East." This is the only explanation that I have to offer for why I got on I-80 East in order to go West.
But I don't live in the past, and at the present I'm looking to the future. I don't really know which end of that maddening three and a half hour trip is "home." I don't know where my future husband is, I don't know how much longer school will take me, I don't even know where I'm going to live come the end of August.
At the present, we have airplanes. We know that the earth is round. Our interstates run both east AND west. I still feel pretty uprooted at this point, but I trust God to plant me where He wants me when the time is right.
When I was in community college, we learned about how eastern nations like Japan looked at Western culture and tried to emulate their artwork, traveled there for education, and saw the lifestyles of the Europeans as more "advanced."
Perhaps this is why, when I tried to leave Iowa City on Friday to go visit Omaha, that I got on I-80 East instead of I-80 West.
Iowa City is my own personal "West." It's a "Wild West" that isn't tamed, but is submerged in a culture that draws a very definite line in the sand. Those who straddle that line are pulled quickly to the side of the world. There is opposition here, though granted much of it is the same opposition that comes from entering adulthood no matter where you are living. But I came here in search of a better life, I came here for culture and education. And had it occurred that I couldn't take it, I would have had to have returned to Omaha, where I came from. Omaha is my "East."
So according to every history class I've taken, Iowa City is "West" and Omaha is "East." This is the only explanation that I have to offer for why I got on I-80 East in order to go West.
But I don't live in the past, and at the present I'm looking to the future. I don't really know which end of that maddening three and a half hour trip is "home." I don't know where my future husband is, I don't know how much longer school will take me, I don't even know where I'm going to live come the end of August.
At the present, we have airplanes. We know that the earth is round. Our interstates run both east AND west. I still feel pretty uprooted at this point, but I trust God to plant me where He wants me when the time is right.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Word Vomit
So it's been a while since I've composed a blog post on a topic pertaining to writing, and as this was originally intended to be a writing-focused blog, I figured I should remedy this. So I am here to discuss with you a topic that is currently very near and dear to my heart:
Word Vomit.
I swear, this has more to do with writing than my stomach flu a month ago.
One of the biggest points of NaNoWriMo (the challenge that I take part in every November because it appears that I just so enjoy the sensation of failure in epic proportions) is to get people to actually step out and write something that they want to write instead of waiting for some magical moment of inspiration that may never come. If you have a story in your head, sometimes you just gotta take a leap of faith and write the darn thing! Critics say that NaNoWriMo is a negative influence on writers, encouraging lousy planning and poor writing, putting the focus on quantity rather than quality and taking blows at the respect for our art.
And it's true, sometimes my NaNo work is all for the word count, a lot of it becomes more free-flow writing than plot and character development, and just pushing the cursor forward becomes what my sister-in-law and I dubbed in November 2011 as "Word Vomit."
But now that I have shamelessly declared my half of a NaNo Novel as "Rubbish" and banished it to the deepest recesses of my hard drive to be read when I want a good laugh, I have turned to my Paper and Ink Child and, with great anticipation, am closing in on the completion of a First Draft.
And here and there, I am encountering "Word Vomit."
When a series of life circumstances thrust me into the dark abyss of Writer's Block at the end of 2010, I pulled out of it by committing to write at least 500 words a day of something besides journaling. Some of these chunks are actually still in my Paper and Ink Child. They got the story moving again, and without them, this poor baby of mine would surely have died, and the coroner would have written the cause of death: "Failure to Thrive."
I have a prewrite for my novel (a list of scenes that probably makes little sense to anyone besides me) that I've been holding to, and most recently I have found that my instances of "word vomit" occur when I've left my novel to occupy itself for several days to a couple of weeks. I miss it, start dreaming of scenes to come, and finally spew something into the word document that mostly still resembles the prewrite just so I can get to the part that I really want to write.
Through the process, I have come to decide that Word Vomit isn't an all-together negative thing. It gets a novel moving, it creates progress in a first draft. And by the end of the first draft, I'll have a better idea of how the book is supposed to flow, I'll know some of the specifics that I'm missing right now. And then I'll be free to revise the ever-living daylights out of it. When that time comes, I shall be happy to scrub every trace of vomit from the document and fill it with flowery air fresheners to chase away the stench.
Until then, you must excuse me. I need to go chase my cursor into the battle scene that I really want to write right now!
Word Vomit.
I swear, this has more to do with writing than my stomach flu a month ago.
One of the biggest points of NaNoWriMo (the challenge that I take part in every November because it appears that I just so enjoy the sensation of failure in epic proportions) is to get people to actually step out and write something that they want to write instead of waiting for some magical moment of inspiration that may never come. If you have a story in your head, sometimes you just gotta take a leap of faith and write the darn thing! Critics say that NaNoWriMo is a negative influence on writers, encouraging lousy planning and poor writing, putting the focus on quantity rather than quality and taking blows at the respect for our art.
And it's true, sometimes my NaNo work is all for the word count, a lot of it becomes more free-flow writing than plot and character development, and just pushing the cursor forward becomes what my sister-in-law and I dubbed in November 2011 as "Word Vomit."
But now that I have shamelessly declared my half of a NaNo Novel as "Rubbish" and banished it to the deepest recesses of my hard drive to be read when I want a good laugh, I have turned to my Paper and Ink Child and, with great anticipation, am closing in on the completion of a First Draft.
And here and there, I am encountering "Word Vomit."
When a series of life circumstances thrust me into the dark abyss of Writer's Block at the end of 2010, I pulled out of it by committing to write at least 500 words a day of something besides journaling. Some of these chunks are actually still in my Paper and Ink Child. They got the story moving again, and without them, this poor baby of mine would surely have died, and the coroner would have written the cause of death: "Failure to Thrive."
I have a prewrite for my novel (a list of scenes that probably makes little sense to anyone besides me) that I've been holding to, and most recently I have found that my instances of "word vomit" occur when I've left my novel to occupy itself for several days to a couple of weeks. I miss it, start dreaming of scenes to come, and finally spew something into the word document that mostly still resembles the prewrite just so I can get to the part that I really want to write.
Through the process, I have come to decide that Word Vomit isn't an all-together negative thing. It gets a novel moving, it creates progress in a first draft. And by the end of the first draft, I'll have a better idea of how the book is supposed to flow, I'll know some of the specifics that I'm missing right now. And then I'll be free to revise the ever-living daylights out of it. When that time comes, I shall be happy to scrub every trace of vomit from the document and fill it with flowery air fresheners to chase away the stench.
Until then, you must excuse me. I need to go chase my cursor into the battle scene that I really want to write right now!
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Happy New Year!
Well, it’s been yet another crazy year! But then, I suppose that time in life between graduating high school and establishing yourself as an adult is full of crazy years. Over all, 2011 was a hard and painful year, and I’m pretty ecstatic to put it behind me.
The year did have some good points though. I turned two decades old this year! I also watched my little brother start high school. I entered into the amazing world of Slam Poetry! Between that any my New Year’s Resolution last year, I conquered the writer’s block that 2010 left me with. That alone makes 2011 worth the trouble. I failed NaNoWriMo again this year, but I came out of it with a new passionate love for my Work In Progress, so even that wasn’t a total loss!
God changed every facet of life as I once knew it this year. I’m not in school for the first time since Kindergarten. I’m working full time for the first time in my life. (I also still love my job like crazy, just for the record!) I moved to go live by myself for the first time in my life—and not only that, but in a different state! Hey, if you’re gonna do something, you might as well do it all the way.
I’ve learned about spiritual warfare this year. I’ve done battle with demons and have enjoyed Christ’s victory over them. Through it all, God started to teach me just how many choices we as human beings face, and how many of those choices boil down to picking between the lies of the world and God’s Truth, and these choices are found from things as big as choosing a life-changing path at the fork in the road to things as small as picking an outfit before going out in the evenings. And sometimes, choosing the Truth isn’t easy, sometimes it doesn’t even feel good. Saying that it’s “best in the long run” grates on my nerves now after this past year, because there were so many times that I couldn’t see the “best in the long run,” and the fluffy idea that the "right choice" would make life better in some distant future that I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of didn’t seem worth the pain right now. But when I look at my life when I was choosing lies and compare it to my life right now—well, John 8:32 makes a whole lot more sense to me now.
I learned a lot in 2011 through all of the trials and tribulations that it brought me. I don’t regret the pain and struggles of 2011, because they helped me fall deeper in love with my Abba Father, my First Love. I’m beginning to trust Him a little more than I did a year ago. Well, okay, a LOT more! But I still have a long way to go. I will learn many new things in 2012, and I’m sure that it will bring hard times of its own. But I am excited to continue pursuing the life God has placed me in and finding the new joys that this year will bring!
The year did have some good points though. I turned two decades old this year! I also watched my little brother start high school. I entered into the amazing world of Slam Poetry! Between that any my New Year’s Resolution last year, I conquered the writer’s block that 2010 left me with. That alone makes 2011 worth the trouble. I failed NaNoWriMo again this year, but I came out of it with a new passionate love for my Work In Progress, so even that wasn’t a total loss!
God changed every facet of life as I once knew it this year. I’m not in school for the first time since Kindergarten. I’m working full time for the first time in my life. (I also still love my job like crazy, just for the record!) I moved to go live by myself for the first time in my life—and not only that, but in a different state! Hey, if you’re gonna do something, you might as well do it all the way.
I’ve learned about spiritual warfare this year. I’ve done battle with demons and have enjoyed Christ’s victory over them. Through it all, God started to teach me just how many choices we as human beings face, and how many of those choices boil down to picking between the lies of the world and God’s Truth, and these choices are found from things as big as choosing a life-changing path at the fork in the road to things as small as picking an outfit before going out in the evenings. And sometimes, choosing the Truth isn’t easy, sometimes it doesn’t even feel good. Saying that it’s “best in the long run” grates on my nerves now after this past year, because there were so many times that I couldn’t see the “best in the long run,” and the fluffy idea that the "right choice" would make life better in some distant future that I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of didn’t seem worth the pain right now. But when I look at my life when I was choosing lies and compare it to my life right now—well, John 8:32 makes a whole lot more sense to me now.
I learned a lot in 2011 through all of the trials and tribulations that it brought me. I don’t regret the pain and struggles of 2011, because they helped me fall deeper in love with my Abba Father, my First Love. I’m beginning to trust Him a little more than I did a year ago. Well, okay, a LOT more! But I still have a long way to go. I will learn many new things in 2012, and I’m sure that it will bring hard times of its own. But I am excited to continue pursuing the life God has placed me in and finding the new joys that this year will bring!
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Adopted!
My name is Gracie Lynn, I'm a two-year-old kitty and I have a story to tell! My new mommy says that everyone has a story to tell, so I figured she wouldn't mind too much if I borrowed her blog: she already thinks it's cute when I sit on her fingers while she's trying to type!
I lived in the humane society for a long time. One family adopted me, but then they changed their mind and brought me back. Feeling abandoned and unwanted, the humane society people did this annoying personality test (as if you can peg the kind of cat a kitty is in five to ten of the first minutes with her in a brand new place), and my timid, shy response led them to label me as a "Secret Admirer," a cat who would stay out of sight a lot until I got to know you. Then they put me in this cage that was clean, but small, and lots of people would come press their faces up to the glass to look at me, ooh and ahh, and then walk away without taking me home.
One day, a woman saw me but didn't stop to ooh and ahh. Instead, she ran and returned with another girl, a tall one with long, yellow hair. That girl smiled at me, her hand up against the glass not pointing, but more as though she wanted to pet me. I got up and rubbed against the glass to show her how badly I wanted to be petted. But then, she ran away! I knew she'd be just like the rest! I thought to myself as I crawled back into my box to sleep. I saw her walk by a couple more times holding a strange black circle in her hand, but I ignored her. I couldn't stand to have my heart broken one more time.
About an hour later, one of the humane society ladies came to get me. "Come here, Grace," she said. That was my name at the time: just Grace. She brought me into a room a lot bigger than my cage, but it was full of people! The first woman who had brought the one with yellow hair was there, two other men, a teenage boy, and another woman, all of them watching me and talking about me! The humane society woman left me in that room full of strangers, and I was so scared! That was more attention than I'd had in a long time, and I wasn't sure if I could deal with it! I kept trying to get through the door, I meowed as loud as I could to try to get the woman to come back, but nothing worked. "Come here, Grace," the girl said, reaching toward me. "My name is Kaycee." Out of options, I decided to go ahead and check out this girl with the long, yellow hair, who had now moved down to the floor to see me.
She took me in her lap and petted me, and as I started to fall asleep after such a long day, she started calling me "Gracie Lynn."
The woman came back in and talked to this crowd of people. She must have said something bad, because Kaycee looked up at the older man with wide eyes. They came to a conclusion, but I could tell that she was upset. I sat with the other girl while the one with long hair wrote on a clip board, then Kaycee took me back. Everyone else got up and left, but she was hesitant as I continued to nod off in her lap. "I don't want to leave you!" she kept saying.
She finally did though. For whatever reason, she left me there. But something told me that she loved me anyway.
The next day, the humane society people gave me a bath with some smelly, blue shampoo. Then I caught a cold, probably from being so wet! But after a few days, I was feeling much better. Then that older man came back! They put me in a box and the man took me home! On the way, he had this black device that he held up to the box, and I could hear Kaycee's voice. "Hi, Gracie Lynn!" she said. I stopped meowing and looked at the box, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. "It's okay, Gracie Lynn, I'll see you soon!" she promised.
The man took me into this room where I would be safe from the dogs that roamed the rest of the house. I could still hear them walking on the hard wood floor outside the door, see their noses as they sniffed under the door looking for my scent. I spent a lot of time under the recliner in the room until the people in the house finally took it out. I don't think they appreciated me sharpening my claws on it. I'm still not sure what else you would use such a thing for besides for a hiding place and scratching post.
The first girl who had found me visited me one evening and brought in a laptop. It had a strange, moving picture on it that kind of reminded me of Kaycee, and I could hear her voice coming out of it. I didn't understand how the girl could fit into these strange devices. "Hey there, Gracie Lynn!" she said as if she could see me. "Aww, I miss you, Baby!"
The family visited me often in that room over the next couple of days, and I started to warm up to them. They seemed to like me, and I could only hope that they wouldn't change their minds and take me back.
Then and elderly couple came, and they put me in a wire cat carrier. I could see a lot more out of the cat carrier than I could the box, and they put my special blanket from the humane society in it. At first, I was afraid that this was the day they would take me back, but we were in the car for a much longer time than we had been leaving the humane society. I was starting to wonder if I would ever get out!
Finally, we arrived at this tiny little building. The couple brought me inside where I was greeted excitedly by none other than Kaycee! She was there, and not just in a strange, electronic device again!
She keeps calling me Gracie Lynn. I like my new name, it sounds pretty. Kaycee says that she wanted to give me her name now that she's adopted me, but that her last name sounds funny and "hopefully" won't be the same for the rest of my life. So she gave me her middle name instead. I've been exploring my new home, and besides the sticky bug trap that I got my paw stuck in (I was so scared until Kaycee gently pulled it free, and then I had to lick all of the sticky out of my fur!) it's a pretty cool place! I'm happy to finally have a place I think I can call "home."
I lived in the humane society for a long time. One family adopted me, but then they changed their mind and brought me back. Feeling abandoned and unwanted, the humane society people did this annoying personality test (as if you can peg the kind of cat a kitty is in five to ten of the first minutes with her in a brand new place), and my timid, shy response led them to label me as a "Secret Admirer," a cat who would stay out of sight a lot until I got to know you. Then they put me in this cage that was clean, but small, and lots of people would come press their faces up to the glass to look at me, ooh and ahh, and then walk away without taking me home.
One day, a woman saw me but didn't stop to ooh and ahh. Instead, she ran and returned with another girl, a tall one with long, yellow hair. That girl smiled at me, her hand up against the glass not pointing, but more as though she wanted to pet me. I got up and rubbed against the glass to show her how badly I wanted to be petted. But then, she ran away! I knew she'd be just like the rest! I thought to myself as I crawled back into my box to sleep. I saw her walk by a couple more times holding a strange black circle in her hand, but I ignored her. I couldn't stand to have my heart broken one more time.
About an hour later, one of the humane society ladies came to get me. "Come here, Grace," she said. That was my name at the time: just Grace. She brought me into a room a lot bigger than my cage, but it was full of people! The first woman who had brought the one with yellow hair was there, two other men, a teenage boy, and another woman, all of them watching me and talking about me! The humane society woman left me in that room full of strangers, and I was so scared! That was more attention than I'd had in a long time, and I wasn't sure if I could deal with it! I kept trying to get through the door, I meowed as loud as I could to try to get the woman to come back, but nothing worked. "Come here, Grace," the girl said, reaching toward me. "My name is Kaycee." Out of options, I decided to go ahead and check out this girl with the long, yellow hair, who had now moved down to the floor to see me.
She took me in her lap and petted me, and as I started to fall asleep after such a long day, she started calling me "Gracie Lynn."
The woman came back in and talked to this crowd of people. She must have said something bad, because Kaycee looked up at the older man with wide eyes. They came to a conclusion, but I could tell that she was upset. I sat with the other girl while the one with long hair wrote on a clip board, then Kaycee took me back. Everyone else got up and left, but she was hesitant as I continued to nod off in her lap. "I don't want to leave you!" she kept saying.
She finally did though. For whatever reason, she left me there. But something told me that she loved me anyway.
The next day, the humane society people gave me a bath with some smelly, blue shampoo. Then I caught a cold, probably from being so wet! But after a few days, I was feeling much better. Then that older man came back! They put me in a box and the man took me home! On the way, he had this black device that he held up to the box, and I could hear Kaycee's voice. "Hi, Gracie Lynn!" she said. I stopped meowing and looked at the box, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. "It's okay, Gracie Lynn, I'll see you soon!" she promised.
The man took me into this room where I would be safe from the dogs that roamed the rest of the house. I could still hear them walking on the hard wood floor outside the door, see their noses as they sniffed under the door looking for my scent. I spent a lot of time under the recliner in the room until the people in the house finally took it out. I don't think they appreciated me sharpening my claws on it. I'm still not sure what else you would use such a thing for besides for a hiding place and scratching post.
The first girl who had found me visited me one evening and brought in a laptop. It had a strange, moving picture on it that kind of reminded me of Kaycee, and I could hear her voice coming out of it. I didn't understand how the girl could fit into these strange devices. "Hey there, Gracie Lynn!" she said as if she could see me. "Aww, I miss you, Baby!"
The family visited me often in that room over the next couple of days, and I started to warm up to them. They seemed to like me, and I could only hope that they wouldn't change their minds and take me back.
Then and elderly couple came, and they put me in a wire cat carrier. I could see a lot more out of the cat carrier than I could the box, and they put my special blanket from the humane society in it. At first, I was afraid that this was the day they would take me back, but we were in the car for a much longer time than we had been leaving the humane society. I was starting to wonder if I would ever get out!
Finally, we arrived at this tiny little building. The couple brought me inside where I was greeted excitedly by none other than Kaycee! She was there, and not just in a strange, electronic device again!
She keeps calling me Gracie Lynn. I like my new name, it sounds pretty. Kaycee says that she wanted to give me her name now that she's adopted me, but that her last name sounds funny and "hopefully" won't be the same for the rest of my life. So she gave me her middle name instead. I've been exploring my new home, and besides the sticky bug trap that I got my paw stuck in (I was so scared until Kaycee gently pulled it free, and then I had to lick all of the sticky out of my fur!) it's a pretty cool place! I'm happy to finally have a place I think I can call "home."
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