Good Things: Family, Church Family, and Connectedness

I’m on a day off, it’s raining, and my home is emptied of family who might ridicule the dancing, singing, shrieking, running around in circles, and gorging that takes place on my days off. Life is good. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the weather we’ve had in the past week, with alternating stretches of insane heat (or what I’d classify as insane heat, at least) and respites of rain. One of the coolest things about May is the fact that all of the bud-petals, seeds, and leaves floating down from trees remind me of confetti, and there have been a couple of days whilst walking home from work that I felt like I’d just won a car on a reality TV show, there was so much organic confetti. Although all of the allergens drifting down cause me to develop a runny nose, irritated eyes, and heavy eyelids if allergy meds are forgotten, taking in the sight of mini-UFOs taking flight through my neighbourhood pleases me immensely. Of course, all of this loveliness is set against a backdrop of the beautiful Alberta sky in this fair month, where the clouds resemble delicious cotton candy or brush strokes applied with watercolours. I was cloud-gawking on Monday afternoon and considering the clouds’ likenesses to various man-made things, and it was rather odd because I tend to look for the un-synthetic in the synthetic, but when I look at nature I often look for things that remind me of man-made things. I can easily imagine myself considering how my dad and sister’s watercolour brushstrokes and cotton candy from the Folk Fest were reminiscent of clouds.

Superficially, this struck me as strange because I rarely just look at the clouds and simply ponder how lovely clouds are for more than a couple of minutes; instead, after a while of liking the clouds for themselves, I feel the urge to look for reminders of other beautiful things. I suppose that this is because it’s amazing to see the links between everything in life. I really love existentialism, nihilism, and other strange philosophies that make contemplating life and the universe rather enjoyable, and philosophy obviously has a great deal to say about all the things that make up life and the universe, and their connectedness. My favourite film with an emphasis on all things philosophical is I Heart Huckabees, which deals with the blanket theory, an idea that everything is the same, but different, and to a certain extent I certain feel that that’s accurate. This is God’s creation after all, and we can look for Him in everything, though it’s also all too evident at times that the things of this world aren’t perfect and God’s supreme above all the sin-caused ugliness that things are tarnished by. It’s exceedingly fun to personify nature, to picture my grandpa’s hair as a rain cloud, and to recognize what a blessing it is to be able to love everything because it’s all the same. As Ben Gibbard croons, “there are different names for the same thing.” When I look for the good in everything, it usually makes itself pretty apparent.















The outdoors have additionally been quite exquisite this month with the sunrises that have greeted me on days when I work at 5:30. Not only have the colours been gorgeous and muted, but the clouds have at times gathered around the emerging sun and allowed the light to scatter in a most peculiar fashion. Last Monday, I ended up looking at the wrong work schedule and mistakenly believed that I was scheduled for the 5:30 shift, which allowed me to walk around the river valley at for an hour as I enjoyed the trees, an especially stunning sunrise, the delightful voice of Sam Beam of Iron & Wine, my favourite cheese buns from Bee Bell, and the oddity of my customers driving to the café honking at me repeatedly completely unbeknownst to me. As one would expect, I find the sunrise far more savour-able when I’m not having to observe it because of work; it’s far more delightful when I’m voluntarily staying up to take in its excellence. This, of course, is because we enjoy things much more when they’re not obligatory, and we at least have the perception that they’re done of our own accord. In my dearest psychology, we refer to the phenomenon of people enjoying something more when it is intrinsically, rather than extrinsically, rewarded as the over-justification effect. We love to have explanations of our behaviour, and enjoy believing that our behaviour is rational. When we already have the explanation of that extrinsic reward for a behaviour, we may not experience the intrinsic reward of that very behaviour. However, when the behaviour isn’t rewarded, its own capacity to reward is clearer. When I’m walking to work at 5:15, I subconsciously explain the fact that I’m outside in the cold before anyone else has awoken to see the sun with the money that I’ll earn by going to work. When I’m walking simply because I want to at 5:15, I explain the fact that I’m outside with the sun with my desire to enjoy the peace of the morning and the uniqueness of the outdoors’ splendour early in the morning. I think this over-justification effect is important to keep in mind because so often I, as a Christian, can tend to do things out of a sense of duty and obligation instead of a love of pleasing God. Rather than doing something to avoid guilt and castigation, I need to act out of what and who I love. Whether it’s tithing, speaking to someone at church who no one else talks to, doing something kind when no one’s watching, or just praying, it’s so much more enjoyable to do these things out of a love of doing them rather than a perceived requirement to do them.






















I’ve posted some random photos from the last week in the greatly underused procrastination blog Tiac, though I’m really too lethargic to add any captions to them, so while perusing them it would be wise to look to the photo titles for elucidation on what on earth was going on when the photograph was taken. A large bulk of the pictures are from my lovely grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary celebrations this past weekend, which was celebrated with an open house and program at Zion (my old church!), a family dinner at my auntie and uncle’s place, Sunday dinner, and a BBQ accompanied by some super-sweet hockey. Though I am quite idealistic about nearly everything and everyone that I love, my grandma and grandpa are truly the best people I’ve ever known. I’ve blogged about them previously, so I’ll keep my musings about them to a minimum, but it was so touching to see how much their lives have touched those of the people around them. On Saturday, numerous people referred to Grandma and Grandpa as their adopted parents, which is extremely true. They’ve always made a point of reaching out to people who are lonely, struggling, or in need of support, which has often translated into university students from church coming to every Sunday dinner as part of our family and even being a part of the Toller Christmas festivities at times. Both of them are insanely generous with their time and money, and my grandpa’s retirement from being a pastor at Zion a few years ago is a complete joke; they haven’t stopped working for a second.

Whether they’re visiting residents of a nursing home, allowing their house to be home to friends and family, cooking the massive and notoriously vegetable-laden Sunday dinner, leading a Bible study, or just lending an ear and shoulder to a friend, their love for God and His children is constantly manifest. While their love has been so encouraging and uplifting to so many, it’s also borne witness to God’s work in their lives, and they’ve served as amazing role models. I can’t remember either of them saying anything negative about anyone besides Casey Printers (the vile football player) and perhaps Hitler; I’m sure they have, but they’re far more likely to disparage themselves. When I consider what wonderful people they are, and how self-deprecating they can often be despite the great admiration that they garner from others, I’m challenged to live with the same humility and selflessness. Both of them are very gentle, never speaking loudly, using harsh words, or requiring dramatics to make a point, which makes them people who others love to confide in and glean wisdom from. Because my grandpa is perhaps the least aggressive man I’ve ever known, and I know a disproportionate amount of non-aggressive guys, he’s tremendous company at football games where he feels sympathy for the greatly abused refs and remains optimistic even when a win is unmistakably unachievable. Likely my favourite trait of my grandparents’ is their empathy; no matter who the person, they never fail to make a concerted effort to take another’s perspective, care deeply about others, and act altruistically even for someone who might not seem to deserve compassion. I really am so far from coming close to their example, but I’m so thankful to God that I have them in my life, and that I can strive to be remotely like them in how I live out my faith.















I’ve also put up some pictures of rain/playground fun with Jess, softball madness from last night, and funny faces. My beloved Bethany (the magnificent stunner with the long blond hair and dazzling tonsils) was even the photographer behind all of the odd Cait-funny-faces pictures except for one. This was quite the achievement for her since she tends to push buttons and erroneously believe she’s taken a picture when all she’s done is turn the flash off or change the exposure. I’ve known Bethany since she was born, and she’s my favourite friend under the age of 10. I’ve taught her Sunday School, played Barbies and house with her, discussed boys with her, observed her rapid loss of teeth (the natural kind, not the Smyth-hockey kind), spent countless hours laughing at her dog Blossom, and been unbelievably silly with her. She’s superbly inane with me, and very creative in our fun together; at times she’s far too energetic for me, and she often yells at Jess, SJ, and I for being lazy. I even posted a picture of us having a joke-fight at church; I’d obviously called her Dude or Bethany of Gesthemane (she despises my monikers for her) or discussed my love of vegetables. Jess and I have been friends with Bethany’s sister for ages, and their family is one of the many from Zion who we miss unimaginable, über-crazy amounts. My achievement of the weekend was going to Zion twice and only shedding a few tears during the DVD that was made about them (it also makes me laugh hysterically), and in the speeches that followed.

Thankfully, God’s placed our family at the most magnificent McKernan (alliteration possibilities for McKernan abound), and I even got to use my Zion Lions slow-pitch cheering abilities last night for some of the McKernan softball stars, though softball cheering does seem to be far different from slow-pitch cheering. No “good eye” cheers can really be used since the pitcher and batter are on the same team, and Jess wasn’t there to perform the “Gerry-Gerry-Bo-Berry,” “Brrr, It’s Cold in Here,” “De-Johninator,” or “Pastor Ron” cheers; I suspect that she will be dragged to a game this summer. But McKernan managed to tie Highway, which was rather thrilling coming from a church where winning was always an added bonus to the fun of playing a game, likely because winning so rarely occurred. Soon, football will arrive to outshine any of the fun I have while watching hockey and softball, and Jess will never need to be convinced to attend games, or even cheer (her enthusiasm for the Oilers is too subdued in my opinion). If anyone has seen an Eskimos scarf being sold somewhere, perhaps on the Black Market, I beg you again to notify me; it would complement my foam finger hand and pom-poms quite nicely. Cheer unusually hard for the Oilers tonight, and as Kristi from work would advise you, get out those brooms, because we’ll be doing some sweeping tonight!

Things to Blog About this Summer
- politics and oil for Dusty (this needs to be an essay)
- money, giving money, money belonging to God
- politics and empathy
- New York City
- football
- Stephen Harper
- sleep (a full-fledged entry on it)

Injurious Objects that Have Injured My Feet Recently
- vacuum cleaner
- stairs
- high-heels on Whyte (this was the worst; it scraped the nail polish off of my toes)
- chairs
- sidewalks
- rocks
- power cords
- hot water (not really an object, but injurious nonetheless)

Things I Miss About Zion
- friends (more properly called my family)
- running around the church while yelling and stealing people’s coats accidentally
- doing the overheads
- Sunday School
- Searching for Ernie the Ant
- choir practices
- Bible studies in Lisa’s living room
- the informality
- knowing everyone and their middle name at church
- fellowship group
- foosball (I was Foosbal Queen at Zion; I miss it!)
- ping-pong (unlike foosball, I essentially never won a single game of ping-pong)
- being friends with my pastor and youth pastor
- composing songs
- choreographing dances
- jaunts to Kensington Food Market (I miss the Happy Pop!)
- Matt and Anna’s baking after the service
- hanging out with literally every person under the age of 20 in the church
- Ebenezer Sunday
- Christmas and Easter services
- having reminders of my childhood around me

Things I Love About McKernan
- being 30 seconds away
- Saturday nights with C&Cers
- Pastor Lyle’s sermons
- cinnamon buns (I’m basically addicted at this point)
- “mailboxes”
- being one of the only ones who thinks Jack Layton is crazy-cool
- Powerpoint (though I miss overheads immensely)
- psychoanalyzing the sign in front of the church with Jess
- gas stoves
- how every singe person gets a bulletin
- not going to church with my family every Sunday (really weird, but quite refreshing too; yay for three services!)
- brown connector books
- being mock-greeted by my parents
- not having to ever do announcements, serve Communion, or pass around the offering plates
- observing Niesha’s latest shoe find
- going to church with people roughly my age (the closest was three years younger at Zion)
- making faces at Jess when she sings
- having some anonymity (useful for when pulling pranks or going incognito)
- disposable Communion cups
- brilliantly virtuoso harmonica-playing

It's Too Much of a Lazy, Gorgeous Day for Complete Sentences

Some of the Lovely Things My Mom Does
- discusses politics, people, and culture with me
- asks about my day
- finds NYC advice
- gives hugs and kisses
- always buys jalapeno and artichoke dip
- imparts advice
- bakes and cooks delicious fare
- wears insanely cool shoes
- fidgets with her hair
- listens to fabulous music
- prays for me
- cares intensely about others
- shops on Whyte Ave
- has a real political conscience
- is honest with me
- empathizes
- stays up worrying until I get home
- cheers like a lunatic during sporting events
- shares neato stories and tidbits
- watches indie movies
- plants excellently odd flowers
- makes soup for when I come home after work
- is superbly silly and youthful


















Cool Things
- eating with aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents
- hand-holding praying
- chai lattés
- M&Ms, Two Bite Brownies, Stewart’s Cream Soda, and bubblegum
- Gazelda the eMac not crashing anymore
- Jess playing piano songs from Pride & Prejudice
- the way tree branches bifurcate
- leaves dancing in the wind
- analyzing the sermon with Jess
- horses on city streets
- foot baths
- two connector books in ONE pew today
- elderly people downtown
- board games and movies with Jess
- Oilers “parties” in my basement
- the squirrels that reside in my tree
- Great Lake Swimmers
- Beady Belle
- Jack Johnson
- CBC
- hockey and tennis greatness
















Things that Have Names
- Bruce Cockburn the guitar
- Philomena Guinea the iPod
- Fergus (Ferguson) the car
- Darwin the camera
- Einstein the video camera
- Gazelda the eMac
- Arwen the PowerMac
- Gandalf the iMac
- Gimli the iBook
- Clive Staples Lewis the bike
- Elvis the radio
- Gershwin the piano
- Evergreen the house
- Henrietta the rubber chicken
- Theodore Ethan Bear (Ted E. Bear)
- Jean Luc Picard the TV
- Spielberg the DVD player
- Duke the bathtub
- Michael Jackson the washing machine

My Favourite Nicknames for Jess
- child
- Jay Jay
- Hessica
- twin model of Anouk Lepère
- Dude
- Daughter #2
- J-j-j-jess
- Jessica Anne Lobe-law
- dink
- Dad (unintentional; she answers to this name frequently, and vice-versa)
















Summer Things to Pack In
- football
- reading
- list-making
- concert goodness
- festivals
- growing the music collection
- poetry excellence
- lounging on the lawn
- picnics
- indie movies
- swinging
- sleeping on the balcony
- biking
- skateboarding
- writing
- festival-going
- cloud gawking
- star gazing
- photography
- filmmaking
- cleaning
- downtown photo-taking
- baking
- walks in the river valley
- NYC daydreaming
- music literature
- Whyte Ave random fun
- art gallery madness
- neighbourhood hide-and-seek

Possible Adventures
- cooking
- driving
- creating an even cooler Cait-Jess dance
- camping
- scrapbooking
- golfing
- swimming
- shopping
















Random Things Pondered Tonight
- my devotions described God’s grace as “outrageous” the other day
- why aren’t grace, love, and salvation capitalized?
- a passage from Ezekiel and its relation to predestination
- thank goodness salvation isn’t based on righteousness
- in Ezekiel, where on the spectrum of righteousness does one have to be to be considered righteous? wicked?
- there’s something magical about paper
- is there an innate human appreciation of written, tangible words?
- studies have shown writing things out rather than typing is more effective for working through stuff; what is it about getting something onto a physical piece of paper?
- is the Language Acquisition Device (only my psych friends may get that) important in a spiritual sense?
- there's something magical about keeping books forever and using them until they’re tattered
- my dear English prof related her concern to our class about the potential for digital information to degrade faster over the centuries than paper does
- the sound of a whisper is beautiful
- whispers are gentle, breathy, almost melodic, consonant, nostalgic; they make me think of what God’s voice might sound like
- it’s so much easier at times to love God than people
- I can just think about life, and worship and appreciate Him through that
- He’s in everything, and is behind everything good and beautiful
- Ezekiel hyperbolized to motivate himself
- do I ever need to exaggerate or delude myself?
- psych studies have shown that the more unrealistically idealistic a couple is, the greater their chances of lasting
- is there such a thing as a white lie?
- is it natural to have two codes of conduct, one for friends and one for acquaintances, if we’re called to love everyone?
- if one can indeed lose grace, is there a period of time after the last time of repentance that repentance for the proceeding sins is required (this sounds weird, but it’s something I don’t quite understand; must ask Dad)
- why do people love to make stages for their development, careers, relationships, and various other aspects of their lives?
- what does “growing apart” really mean? if I have close friends who are my polar opposite, how can someone grow apart to the point that we become distant? (not based on a recent experience, just imagining friends moving away)
- I don’t feel anxious guilt enough
- there's sometimes a fine line between guilt and shame, but it’s a line that must be maintained
- I miss my old pastor’s humour, earnestness, openness, frankness, friendship, sharing of struggles, and abstract and sophisticated thought
- why do we have an innate love of sport and competition?
- which would be worse: losing the ability to smile or losing the ability to hear?
- Christians seem to love to externalize the spiritual battle
- while spiritual warfare absolutely includes the people and situations outside of ourselves, it’s vital that we aren’t blind to the conflict inside of us
- at times condemnation, blame, scapegoating, personifying society as some sort of vile force, and self-righteousness are easier than recognizing our own shortcomings
- we all desire reciprocation of love, affection, and respect
- we often have no desire whatsoever to reciprocate (this goes back to the irony thoughts: we want what we can’t have, and don’t want what we do have)
- tonight is a winning night for my favourite: hockey team, tennis player, and Survivor competitor
- moms make life great, no matter where life takes us
- are “maternal” traits all innate or just some?
- thinking is one of my most favourite things
- U2 lyric: what you don’t have, you don’t need it now; what you don’t know, you can feel it somehow (true in some areas of life, not true in others)

To Do List
- sleep

Superficial Thoughts on Cats, Irony, and Truth

I think that life, if nothing else, is at its very core ironic. I was pondering irony today while considering how absurd it is that of all my friends, Jess and I harbour the greatest resentment towards cats, and yet we’re the official cat-sitters of MacKay, malicious-cat extraordinaire. MacKay is the dreadful pet of my mom’s very un-dreadful friend Judy, and since Jess and I have proven to be capable of keeping MacKay alive, we’re her semiannual caretakers. Typical activities on a visit to MacKay include managing her cat litter, feeding her the three kinds of food that she must have in order to continue living and attempting to kill people, playing games so that MacKay is sufficiently entertained, vacuuming up all the hair that she has shed around the house, brushing her so that there is not quite so much hair to vacuum up, and evading perceived MacKay-attacks. Forunately, Jess has done essentially all of the MacKay caretaking thus far, and I must not face the horror of being with the beastly feline. The dismay that we experience at having to care for this creature (perhaps beast would be a more apt term) is, I suspect, partially genetic; my Grandma Toller is incredibly phobic when it comes to cats, and through heredity and observational learning, it appears that Jess and I have acquired a similarly unenthusiastic attitude towards cats. In truth, I do not feel that my lack of love for cats is at all problematic. In fact, I enjoy pondering cats’ disposition as a measure of my own current egotism, as cats sincerely do seem to embody nearly every vile human quality to the fullest extent. No other animal is quite so selfish in their behaviour, and has quite the air of condescension that cats clearly do, and yet we must cat-sit this foul animal because some people keep cats as pets for seemingly inexplicable reasons.

I was discussing my loathing of cats with Jess (no relation to Jess; there is a “work Jess” and a “my Jess”) at work today, and she defended her two pets of the subspecies Felis silvestris catus by arguing that cats demand respect, rather than rolling around on the ground as some animals of the canine variety do. However, cats seem to care very little about my feelings towards them, so long as I pet them, feed them, and don’t give into the temptation to eradicate the world of them. To further my belief that the creatures which I hold very little deference for are indeed unpleasant and reprehensible, Jess continued our conversation on snooty pets by explaining what a snob her pet rabbit was, and if you’ve ever witnessed a Cait-tirade about Balcony Bunny, you will understand that rabbits are hardly my favourite pet. I do enjoy the bunnies that hop around campus and McKernan Park, and staged protests in elementary when boys would chase them maliciously, but when creatures reside in, near, or under my house, I am unable to have any appreciation for them, or their role in the food chain. While not all animals I deride are pompous dopes (the complete list reads: cats, bunnies who dwell under my balcony, flies, moths, cockroaches, beetles, raccoons, rats, ravens, crows, magpies, and Pleuronectiforme fish that have two eyes on one side of their head), my least favourite kind of animals, including humans in the definition of animals, are those that are selfish and arrogant. The fact that my name is so frequently mistaken for the word “cat” causes me nearly as much distress as the fact that my initials are the element symbol for chlorine, to which I am enormously allergic. Indeed, the Cait Sidhe or Cait Sith is a Celtic fairy creature that resembles a wicked black cat; I would rather resemble something pink and frilly than a cat, not to mention a black cat that is so terrible that they are difficult to see at night and often cavort around in front of our car at night without the driver detecting them until the brakes must be applied in an exceedingly abrupt manner.

So, from the meandering paragraphs above, you will have gathered that cats are not at all creatures that I would wish to care for whilst their owners are on vacation, but the irony of life leaves Jess and I to visit MacKay and ensure that she survives Judy’s time away, and enjoys that time to some degree. Nearly every profound thing in my life has some sense of irony, illogicality, or injustice to it, which is not to say that these seemingly contradictory things are all cheerless; they’re simply counterintuitive and poignant. Most prominent and momentous of all these paradoxes is God’s grace, which is, of course, inherently paradoxical. The sinful Cait is saved from death because the perfect Jesus died for her sins. That’s amazingly illogical. Far too often, the nice guy does finish last, and doing the right thing doesn’t always reap rewards or help one’s “karma” (I’m not using the term “nice guys finish last” in the sense of nice guys never getting the girl, because this makes little sense to me). Some of the most wonderful moments in my life were things that I never really thought could be so beautiful and delightful, while some things that I put so much stock in end up disappointing expectations. Humans tend to take things for granted until they’re no longer obtainable, at which point those things become salient and desirable, which is greatly ironic. Life is full of the unexpected, nonsensical, and unjust.

I’ve always loved irony in literature, plays, movies, music, and conversation, partially because recognition of the irony in life often results from the recognition of the truth of life. One of my favourite things of all of Shakespeare’s writing is his use of irony, whether cosmic, situational, verbal, or tragic, particularly since it rings so true. To present life’s course, relationships, and situations as predictable, fair, or rational would be deceitful. Perhaps there’s even irony in the fact that I find ironic things so pleasing, because at times the ironic things that please me are innately displeasing. I find art that recognizes unattractiveness beautiful because life itself is unattractive at times, and there’s beauty in accepting reality. Any art that conveys life as picture perfect isn’t entirely accurate or genuine. I heard Bono say in an interview that art is about making life beautiful, and I think art most effectively achieves this end when it embraces the good, the bad, and the ugly and finds the pulchritude in it all. I love driving in the area where my old acting classes were, and re-discovering the entirely hideous and dilapidated buildings that are somehow truly beautiful with the unsystematic chipping of paint in random spots, outdated placards, aged shingles, and strikingly muted colours. My recreational-photographer uncle’s most stunning photographs are of life-weary people with scars, asymmetries, peculiar features, not because these people exemplify the human body in its highest form, but because this is how people authentically are.

















We’re rough around the edges, and don’t have the flawless skin tone and bone structure of magazine cover models. Our physical “imperfections” denote our distinctiveness, and hardships and struggles we’ve faced, along with the gaining of wisdom and experience of life. I love my grandparents’ wrinkles and sun spots, which have developed over years of laughing, spending time in the sun (you must all be proud that I’m refraining from a tirade about tanning), grinning, furrowing brows, and making faces. On Saturday night, Jess and I checked out the dance performance of A Love Story (a first draft) at the Catalyst Theatre, and it was really cool to see the two elder of the three characters (both much older than 40) wearing spandex attire despite the cellulose, sags, and creases that they’d accrued over the years, and they were entirely comfortable in their own skin. Besides the fact that I think spandex is essentially the coolest fabric ever created, and therefore Richard Simmons is the coolest person ever, it was lovely to see two people advanced in years and wholly at ease with their bodies that might not fit a societal ideal of beauty and flawlessness. Although Jess was entirely creeped out by the sight of Brian Webb in a speedo dancing with Tania Alvarado (this was rather amusing to me), it was quite a delightful sight, for totally uncreepy reasons, of course. Though at times performers’ acceptance of their bodies can go too far, I suppose; last night on the drive home from Peter Pan Caitlin and I discussed the gratuitous bare-butt appearance in every season of plays at the Citadel (thankfully, the appearance this season did not take place in Peter Pan, or many children would have been traumatized). It’s wonderful if actors love their butts, but their exhibitionism need not be indulged in their performance, and it’s not really necessary (at all) for a play to be effective. Theatre’s nude-butt syndrome never fails to disturb me at least a little bit, and I once spent an entire paragraph in a play review discussing the horror of a play concluding with an unclothed actor. Perhaps it’s healthy to accept oneself internally, but not always display that acceptance externally, whether this external self-love comes in the form of partial nudity, boasting, or self-centredness.

Back to the issue of irony, and my enjoyment of recognition of the at-times ugly truth, I feel that humans have a natural desire to seek the truth, even if it is not-so-pretty some of the time. My Learning and Behaviour class, which I had great problems with at times because I feel that the behaviourist wing of psychology is quite simplistic in its analysis of behaviour, would argue that we do everything to ensure our survival and contentment. My prof believes that nearly all that we do as humans is either reflexive or conditioned, as we exist to avoid aversives and obtain rewards. While there is clearly an inherent hedonism in humans, it seems to me that God also endowed us with an innate curiousity and drive for knowledge, regardless of if they satisfy our hedonistic aims or not. We have a proclivity to know things even when they undoubtedly won’t bring us happiness, whether it is to learn what terrible things people have gossiped about us, knowing the details of a horrific murder, or gaining an awareness of our failings and inadequacies. Researchers will put huge amounts of effort into attempts to discover the facts, and often put themselves in great danger in hopes of learning more about the world that we live in. Throughout human existence, advanced societies have sought to improve their understanding of the things that surround them, and this heightened understanding has tended to bring a greater appreciation (in the enjoyment sense of the word, not just the comprehension sense of it) of those surroundings. Whenever I learn something about the intricacies of human behaviour, science of the solar system, inner workings of my digestive system, or complexity of a writer’s words, I’m able to find more joy in them because they’re just that much more cool. Naturally, I think God created this inquisitiveness in each of us because it motivates us to search for Him and His work in our lives.

My favourite kind of happy state is the kind that comes from knowing the truth, and being contented with it. It’s relatively easy to have that fun happiness from dancing, being silly, or eating delicious food, but the deep happiness of knowing that I’m loved, that life is beautiful and intricate, that the few things that really really matter in life are taken care of, and that I’m just a tiny speck in all of the madness and fabulousness going on around me gives me a smile no matter how tough, boring, or baffling everything is. This is the kind of joy that I tend to experience after or whilst watching an indie movie or thought provoking play, going for a nice long walk, praying, reading something profound, checking out some art whether in a book or gallery, crying or laughing deeply, having a good talk or rant with a friend, enjoying nature, listening to music, or having a thinking session. Coming to some realization or acknowledging something I already knew but hadn’t yet accepted gives me that contented happiness that few other things do, and although many of the things I ponder are pretty trivial and of little real-life consequence, there’s certainly something extraordinarily delightful about pondering the facts of life.

Sadly, one truth that I’ve struggled to accept in the past few days is that of the Oilers seeming inferiority. The San Jose Sharks have been rather dominant in our series with them so far, and I’m starting to believe that no more Whyte Ave fun will be had in this season of the NHL. I may put my hopes in Team Canada in the world hockey championship, as they seem far more likely to win some games, plus the championship is taking place in Latvia, which is unquestionably one of the most fantabulous Eastern European nations of all the undeniably cool Eastern European nations. There are only 24 more periods of 24 hours before the Eskies season (or at least pre-season) is up and running, and my dear Eskimos will surely make up for any hockey disappointments with the thrillingness of Nanook and Punter, Danny Maciocia, the combination of the names of Coleman and Gass (Jess and I have an unlimited supply of jokes about their names), all clothing items coloured green and gold, short-short sporting Eskies fans on the LRT, raucous cheering and chanting, bitterness towards Riders fans, and ridiculous levels of junk food consumption. For now, I’ll bide the time in my life allotted to sports fandom to cheering for hockey teams, watching tennis, and continuing on the never ending Cait search to find an Eskies scarf. I sincerely hope that you all will experience some of the greatness of CFL football this summer, and if not, that you’ll at least experience some of the silliness of my family’s enjoyment of it. I will also add that if any of you become Alouettes or Riders fans in the near future, or already are and I don’t know it, I will be forced to disown you as my friend. Or at the very minimum, I’ll throw a mini Eskies football at you. I hope you’re all enjoying the green outside! When the green is joined by the gold in a few weeks, it will all be even more enjoyable, which I know is difficult to imagine, but it’s very true. And you know that I like the truth very much.

















Recent Jess Quotes that Won’t Sound Funny Unless You’re Me or Jess
“We’ll need to increase the cheese.”
“Don’t be beautiful. Be seductive.”
“I think I just broke your pen. Oh, wrong pen.”

Things to Be Happy About from Today
- Edmonton’s hard-working art scene
- walking arm in arm
- chatting about Anchorman and Talladega Nights with my parents
- half-hour showers to clean coffee grime off
- the way my beloved “half-hour shower” rhymes
- my new vintage clothes’ smell
- discovering that Nicole and I can stay with the nuns in NYC
- lovely Whyte Ave employees
- clean laundry
- music recommendations from friends
- Jess’ capacity to make me laugh
- cool bosses and coworkers
- new earrings
- Caitlin’s description of her professors and Thai friend
- the smell and feel of rain
- cuddling under an umbrella
- poignant moments in plays
- numbing medicine for my canker sore that makes me talk strangely
- sweats and hoodies
- red toenails
- finding out Neko Case is coming to Edmonton in August
- CBC radio
- The National
- my Whistler tobogganing finger injury is now half way through the healing process, more than two months after the fact
- pillows and blankets
- allergy medicine
- ancient pictures of my grandparents and my mom, aunt, and uncles
- digital photos with Jess
- confetti
- nights when I know the next day is free of work
- watching Pride and Prejudice on Gimli the iBook
- my dad assisting me in restoring my iTunes
- shrimp
- fairy shoes
- Emily of New Moon acting in Peter Pan
- customers with accents
- good music

















Recent Excellent Materialistic Purchases
- cube earrings by Kari Woo
- red blouse from the (I think) 1960s
- beige satin bomber jacket from the 1980s
- blue cardigan from who knows what decade
- volleyball t-shirt from Nokomis
- M&Ms
- marshmallows
- cinnamon bun from work
- chai latté from Steeps
- more numbing medication for my reprehensible canker sore (it hurts to smile, and I refuse to not smile because of a vile canker sore)
- lunch at the ever-satisfying Great Canadian Bagel

Workin' 5:30 to 1, What a Way to Make a Livin'

The periodicity of rain in Alberta makes me rather happy. Every once in a while, it’s a true pleasure to indulge in the delights of drinking hot chocolate on a couch while reading and enjoying the sounds of rain on my roof and Norah Jones, watching the deluge of raindrops arrive in puddles, guessing what path a water droplet will take when traveling down a window pane, flicking the water off grass while walking through it, staring up at the sky and letting the raindrops come into focus as they approach the ground, dancing outside in puddles with rainboots, and skipping around with my big red umbrella. Because we get rain so infrequently in Edmonton, it’s easy to romanticize rainy days, I suspect mainly because a reprieve from the norm is always welcome and because some of the most tender moments in movies tend to occur when characters are drenched from the rain. My favourite moment in Garden State takes place as Large, Sam, and Mark take in the view of the Abyss as the rain pours down on them. There’s a sense of the water’s ability to cleanse, give new life, remove the façade of makeup, and bring out the truth. In film, scenes with rain showers generally signal a fresh beginning or state of vulnerability. I love the fact that in rainy weather, all of the dirt-covered sidewalks and cars parked along the road are cleaned off, and everything seems a bit more pure and genuine, untainted by the grime that accumulates over time (unintentional rhyming!). In weather like this, Edmontonians are almost as united in experiencing the rain as they are in celebrating making it into the next round of the playoffs, and there are few things that I like more than people sharing common experiences and developing an understanding of what others experience. Psych studies have failed to demonstrate that people experiencing difficulty together brings true understanding of each other, but some have suggested that Canadians’ friendliness and cooperative spirit has evolved in part from our shared familiarity with the at-times trying weather, which often compels us to shovel someone else’s sidewalk, lament the weather to one another, or push a neighbour’s car out of a rut.
















Customers are particularly garrulous on days like these, when small talk about weather leads to lengthy conversations about gardening season, Hurricane Katrina, and vacation plans that will allow for an escape from Alberta weather. It’s days like these that working inside the café is quite agreeable, as I can down white hot chocolates and play cards with Kristi during the oddly slow spells whilst watching the rain and snow fall down from the view provided by the ginormous windows. I’ve been back at work as a full-fledged barista for two entire days now, and it’s been both splendid fun and wearying. My café is one of my favourite places, and my job affords me with the opportunity to hang out all day with friends, make lattés, enjoy the absurdity of Whyte Ave, and earn a paycheque. However, we don’t take breaks at all on shifts at work, so eight hours of standing, running around, getting burned, being covered in a film of coffee, and being gracious to everyone we interact with always requires some energy. At any given moment in the café, I’m thinking about several things at one time, which makes a shift go by at the speeed of light (c=299, 792, 458 m/s), but keeps my adrenaline at ridiculously high levels. For example, at 6:30 this morning, here are the things I needed to do in the next five minutes: restock the muffins, make Allison’s double americano, put more ice in the water pitcher, put the red chiller bucket in the dishwasher and run the dishwasher, run the next four shots of espresso through the machine for backup chiller, turn off the icing machine because it’s making noises, have a bite of my veggie roll to satisfy my hunger, check the coffee levels to make sure we have enough of each roast, exchange a toonie for a roll of nickels from the cash box for the left till, place the Globe & Mail on the table by the condiment stand on the newspaper rake, tidy up the syrup pumps, wipe down the counter by the bean drawer, brew a pot of Cinnamon Hazelnut, set up a pot of Colombian Decaf to be brewed before the decaf customers arrive, sanitize my hands, serve any customers who needed service, and perhaps a few other things that I can’t remember. While I’m incredibly grateful for the fact that there’s never a shift that doesn’t fly by, sometimes I do wish I was working in a record shop filing CDs and telling customers what artist to check out if they’re an Elvis Costello fan, or could wear ballet flats and bubble skirts in an office. My fantabulous boss Michelle has verbalized her concern that the the girls who work at the café (and Darcy, I suppose) will become jaded with our coffee jobs, but I suspect that I'd miss the community and fun of the café if I ever left before my undergrad is completed. Besides its flavour, I feel that coffee’s best quality is its ability to bring people together, whether those people are friends, coworkers, or strangers. I’ve met so many super cool people through barista-ing, and reminding myself of these people always makes a rough day at the café (more rhyming!) worth it.

















In addition to the increased presence of work in my life, summer brings along a boatload of opportunities for outdoor fun. In the last couple of days, I’ve enjoyed the excellence of biking through the wonderful university area and river valley, having tennis fun, reading on my lawn/balcony, doing rain skipping-dances on my way to work, and walking around at night with Jess. I’ve so missed the freedom of living most of the day outside in the past few months, and am savouring the ability to spend much of my time breathing in the fresh air. Obviously, God had real vision when he created all the little things that make up the outdoors; there’s nothing like time spent outdoors to feel closer to God. Not only does nature reflect God’s beauty, and His love for us, but it also mirrors God’s character. I love the sky’s presence no matter where I am, and its constant exquisiteness. My grandpa’s fondness for astronomy and oddly sophisticated telescopes never ceases to remind me of the stars’ power to guide us, take our breath away, and give just a glimmer of God’s splendour. Pondering the reality that each one of the tiny stars is really a colossal ball of intensely hot plasma amazes me, and signifies to me that while I may not always see how huge God is, He is just that huge. In searching the night sky for constellations, I’m looking for God’s hand in the loveliness of the sky, and I’m prompted to look for His hand in my life. I really love the sky more than words can say, so I'll stave off on an explanation of the beauty and serenity of clouds, blue skies, and sunrises/sunsets. But watch out; I may delve into further examinations of my love for the sky in a future entry. Moving on to another aspect of nature that is overwhelmingly magnificent, I would consider the mountains, which I've grown up hiking up, driving through, picnicking in, and skiing on and beneath. Whenever I’m in B.C. with my family, the mountains represent to me God’s unwavering steadfastness, immutability, strength, and majesty. Although their rocky faces may be daunting, they’re truly approachable and welcoming, providing refuge and comfort to flora and fauna alike.

















The waterfalls housed in those mountains are one of my favourite things in nature. I love that the stream of life-giving water they deliver is ostensibly inexhaustible, and that the glistening, cleansing water acts as such a foil to the dusty rock face that it courses down, just as God’s perfection is such a stark contrast with my imperfection. One aspect of creation that I can’t quite enjoy in the midst of summer is the ice, which many have cited as evidence of God’s Being, since much of the life that we’re able to enjoy would not exist were it not for the unique properties of water, and the unlikelihood of a compound’s solid phase being less dense than it’s liquid phase is said by many to point to intervention in creation. Ice’s frictionless surface, especially when it’s frozen flawlessly, is an image of perfection, with no bumps or cracks. When we were in Whistler, the ice, albeit quite cracked, was exceedingly pristine and flawlessly smooth, and it was a sight to take in. The surface was unmarred, and again, I was reminded in moments lying down on the ice in Whistler of God’s perfection. I was all too aware of my bumbling inadequacy as I fell repeatedly and was vulnerable on the slick surface, and pondered how I'd slipped in my walk with God. I'm so marred by my selfish tendencies and ways of this world that, despite prayerfully considering my sins daily, it sometimes takes the juxtaposition of the flawless ice and my flawed self to fully grasp the beauty of His love for me and the relationship I have with Him. It’s so comforting that God, who is truly perfect, omniscient, and good loves me unconditionally, in spite of all my faults and failures. His love is perfect, and quite unlike the human tendency to love conditionally and preferentially. As humans, we’re quite prone to being driven by a need for acceptance and affection from others, when this at times can be futile; living in God’s love brings ultimate life, free of the need for pretense and fakery. I was considering God’s love today while grinding coffee beans, wondering how I can strive to love that fully, and tried to imagine what kind of dad Jesus might have been. Since He is perfect, and loves perfectly, would He love other children just as much as His own? I really will have to ponder this, because I imagine Him spending more time with His own children, but can’t imagine Him loving anyone less than completely. Thankfully, He never had kids, and this isn’t something tricky that I actually have to consider, just something I'm curious to think about. Just as infinity is difficult and very fun to ponder, perfection is an equally fascinating concept. Is perfection at some point at the end of a spectrum, or an ideal at the point of infinity? If I am at a certain level of spiritual maturity, and yet am so far from perfect communion with God, am I fractionally nowhere on that spectrum since it goes on to perfection? I suspect that this last paragraph has made little sense to anyone besides me since it’s difficult to relate one’s perceptions of infinity and perfection, but I really do love to mull over how vast God is, His perfection, and the grace that He’s extended to me that offers me forgiveness for my small-heartedness and flaws.


















I’d best wrap this up now, with devotions needing to be done before getting up bright and early tomorrow for work, and the dreaded Shaw cable acting up even more than usual. As always, I’ll read into things, and take Shaw’s finicky temperament as a sign to get off the computer before this computer follows in the footsteps of cable internet and goes completely caput. But I must nag you all to cheer for the Flames tomorrow night, since I’m immensely thrilled at the possibility of an all-Albertan playoff series. Jess and I had a blast while parading down Whyte last night after the Oilers’ monumental win, and I hope to have several more nights with fake Stanley Cups, inebriated fans, a stream of high-fives, exuberant cheering, and unity with hundreds of fellow Whyte Ave pedestrians and car passengers. I’m sure that this excitement will only be amplified by a series against the Flames, so I’m quite hopeful that we’ll be able to experience a Battle of Alberta of epic proportions. Hope you all enjoy the greatness of the outdoors in the next while, whether in snow, rain, or sunshine, and that all my fellow work-returnees aren’t working too hard and are making the most of their autonomy from the world of academia!
















Things that I’m Obsessed With at Work
- veggie rolls for breakfast, lunch, and supper
- wiping counters down
- dusting the grinds out of the grind area
- doing cash outs meticulously
- listening to radio station #10 (the best one by a mile)
- avoiding wearing my apron
- eating cinnamon hearts
- white hot chocolates
- wearing really destroyed Chuck Taylors
- smiling
- complaining about the ugliness of Second Cup products

Good Things About Living at Home
- talks about God, politics, music, art, film, football, etcetera with my family
- Jess’ delectable cookies (the gingersnaps tonight were spectacular Jay Jay!)
- reading my parents’ magazines
- getting hugs
- talking to Jess whenever I’m elated, sad, irritated, or lethargic
- uploading my parents’ CDs and pictures
- borrowing books from my dad
- not having to ever answer the phone
- benefiting from my dad’s actual knowledge of computers (as opposed to my complete ignorance)
- supper conversation and silliness
- having people who sincerely enjoy playing board games and cards (unlike many of my silly friends)
- being encouraged, challenged, and told the truth by people who know me seemingly better than I know myself
- watching indie movies in the family room with some Orville Redenbacher and blankets
- playing tennis and bocce
- laughing hysterically about things that only my odd family would find droll
- being instructed in the ways of driving
- always having a shoulder to lean on
















Songs I’ve Liked to Today
- “Belle” by Jack Johnson
- “First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes
- “Rise” by Azure Ray
- “Bethlehem Girl” by Taylor Sorenson
- “Me and Julio” by Paul Simon
- “Where You Lead” by Carol King
- “Drowning Slowly” by Ben Folds
- “Our Love is Here to Stay” by Ella Fitzgerald
- “I Am Always the One Who Calls” by Pedro the Lion
- “Wig in a Box” by Polyphonic Spree
- “Secret Heart” by Feist
- “Gentle Rain” by Diana Krall
- “Seven Years” by Norah Jones
- “Heysatan” by Sigur Rós
- “One Minute” by The Album Leaf

Reasons I’m Sad
- my iTunes is entirely decimated (discussing details will only make me really sad, so I’m accepting this misfortune)