On Being Vulnerable and Enjoying Summer

I’ve been a rather negligent blogger since I last informed you all on my thoughts of the ripeness of summer, but I suppose that’s because I’ve been savouring the loveliness of summer (which, I suppose, is the proverbial fruit in my analogy about ripeness). I feel kind of absurd when I blog about things that I’m happy about, because it seems as though I’m just rubbing in how great life is, but I do indulge in grievances here from time to time as well I guess (see: Living in the Tension parts 1 and 2). Thus, I won’t shy away from burbling on about the joys of summer. About 23.81% of my summer has been taken up by work, which is turning out to be better than ever; I have so many coworkers who are deep-down good, in addition to being silly and chatty, and they make me think and laugh and blush every single day. People often underestimate how much mental energy goes into working in a café, and generally assume that we don’t work very hard, but it’s true that my job is pretty peachy keen. I can talk about God and politics and life with them, and we really do love and care about each other oodles and oodles. This makes working for dimes and nickels more than worth it; as aforementioned, I kind of like that I have more reasons to work than just the moolah.

I’ve slowly been chipping away at my list of things to do this summer, although there are still quite a few to be checked off in the next three months. I’ve been doing a fair amount of reading, which is truly one of the best parts of these lazy days, and I’m loving the ability to keep my window open at night so that I can get even more fresh air and wake up to the chirping of the birds that reside in our yard. I am now the proud owner of a blue fighting fish (who isn’t quite as cool as a lizard, so clearly you should let me get a lizard Mom!). My fish seems to enjoy pretending to be dead at random points during the day, and likes to smash his head into rocks at the bottom of his aquarium in a seemingly futile attempt at suicide. I have decided that he is quite similar in personality to a crack cocaine addict going through symptoms of withdrawal, but perhaps as I nurse him back to health, he’ll start to behave in a more sane manner. My fish was formerly known as Ted when he lived at the café, but shall henceforth be known as Ghandi (Matt said that I had to name it a fighting name, so I christened him Ghandi instead; Matt noted that this is also an appropriate name because I didn’t feed Ghandi for an extended period of time when I first got him, which is akin to a hunger strike).


Speaking of this Matt fellow, I have been, as people would colloquially put it, dating him for the past little while. I really think that someone should invent a word that has more meaning and sounds cooler than “dating” because the word seems to suggest that the relationship is based on dates, when really I think it’s best when a relationship is more than just a bunch of dates. However, dating does rhyme whith skating and baiting, so perhaps it’s not so bad after all. Regardless of nomenclature, I’ve officially decided that this whole relationship business is pretty splendid, although it’s mainly Matt that makes it so great. It’s quite absurd how long I can talk to a single person, how wistful I get when we say goodbye (which we’re kind of awful at), how hard someone can make me laugh, and how well I can understand and get along with someone (i.e. Matt). A lot of you blog readers know Matt already, and it feels quite self-indulgent to go into great detail about this in a blog entry, so I’ll limit my effusive depiction of him. He really is a first-rate individual with a good heart, and he cares about people and his faith a great deal. He is also quite silly from time to time, and is excellently funny and smart (although perhaps excessively intelligent when it comes to the freezing points of mud, the accumulation of rain in buckets, and the provincial trees of Alberta).

One of the oddest things I’ve found in my extremely limited experience with being coupled is the beauty of vulnerability. I’m making myself somewhat vulnerable by typing these things about Matt. Maybe I’ll sound ridiculous or naïve or creepy, or maybe I’ll regret writing these thoughts down if things don’t work out (which would be rather sad), or maybe I’m being too candid. But that’s kind of the beauty of it. One of my favourite chapters in Sex God speaks about the vulnerability that’s at the heart of God’s relationship with us. God came here as a vulnerable man because, in part, all the other ways he might have come would have scared us speechless. The Israelites told Moses that they couldn’t listen to the voice of God when he was giving the Ten Commandments because it was so overwhelming that they felt they would die if God spoke to them. So Jesus is born in a feeding trough in a stable. It doesn’t get much more vulnerable than that. I think the paradox of the Son of God’s vulnerability speaks a great deal about how deep God’s love for us is, how we’re meant to love others, and how upside-down His Kingdom really is.

There are a lot of places in life where I think the vulnerability that Jesus modeled is healthy, and I’ve found my own vulnerability to be particularly evident in this guy-girl dynamic that God set up. Even the simple act of liking someone a lot is kind of risky. They might not reciprocate, or your feelings might get out of hand, or you might end up looking rather silly by acting on your feelings. I think this is an illustration of the vulnerability that characterizes God’s relationship with us, and His ultimate act of weakness that paid the price of our redemption. I was reading Hosea last week, and I find it so interesting that God would use a marriage to represent His love for His unfaithful people. Hosea marries a prostitute, and continues to love her earnestly despite her disloyalty. Hosea marries a woman who repeatedly cheats on him just as God loves a group of people who continually reject Him. Chapter 5 of Song of Songs speaks about the interplay between two people. The man asks the woman to let him into her house, but she waits too long, and he gives up, leaving her alone and regretful. It’s very risky, but very worth the risk. I can get frustrated with Christians when I self-righteously think that they aren’t willing enough to just love people without being judgmental and selfish about who and how they love, but people’s hesitation to be vulnerable is understandable, I think (although still not justifiable).


C.S. Lewis puts it this way: “Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” And so, maybe by doing things that are sometimes unappealing to the sometimes-shy Cait like initiating phone conversations, deciding how to fritter away an evening, or hanging out with Matt’s parents, I’m learning more about God and His Kingdom and how radical His vulnerability was. (In fairness though, I don’t think that God is as shy as I am. However, I have written two entire honest paragraphs on my blog about my thoughts on dating, so obviously I am getting good at being vulnerable.)

I’ve been thinking about milestones recently, not only because of the aforementioned dating, but also because my family just celebrated a boatload of birthdays, Jess just graduated and is five days away from becoming a full-fledged adult, my family just got a new yet-to-be-named car, dear friends are convocating, and I am now a proud (albeit slightly incompetent) pet-owner. I like that we define little moments in life as especially significant, even though sometimes they’re just arbitrary points at which we recognize someone’s achievements, the life of someone we love, or the beginning of something splendid. Life really is more of a progression rather than a series of steps, I think, but having a graduation bash or making a big deal out of the first drive in a new car helps us to gain perspective I think. Jess’ impending bday has made me think a lot about how far we’ve come since she was born nearly 18 years ago, and what our years as adults might look like. Not that she will miraculously grow an inch overnight on June 16, nor will she suddenly be imparted with special grownup wisdom, but she has slowly been growing into an adult and increasingly becoming intimidating in her knowledge of baking, black holes, biology, and various other topics starting with the letter “B.” Jess really is growing up. She’s taking a year off of school, which I know from experience will be a great break, will teach her a lot about people, and will allow her to define herself outside of academics and extracurricular activities. She’s nabbed a big-deal job at an ophthalmology clinic run by her friend Jessie’s dad (she visited the clinic last week, and it sounds awesome, although rather intimidating). She’s doing a job that is usually done by people who have gone to school for two years, but she’s more than smart enough to handle it, and she’s enjoying reading through ophthalmology textbooks and showing me highly disturbing pictures of eye infections and bulbous eyelids.

I can still distinctly remember the day that Jess was born; to say she’s come a long way since then would be an understatement. One of my favourite things to do in the entire world is to watch home videos and browse through old photo albums. I’m an overly sentimental person at times, and so I derive pleasure from making a big deal out of past landmark occasions, whether it’s be Jess’ first birthday, our move into Evergreen the House, or my grandparents’ retirement party. Thinking back on these times reminds me of how little I’ve changed, how much I’ve changed, and the numerous plans we had all those years ago (and how the carrying out of these plans has been met by mixed results). Caitlin’s been gone on her world travels for more than a month now, and I’m missing her a great deal already (I’ll send the review to you soon other CJ!). I can only imagine what it will be like when I’m faced with milestone of friends leaving Edmonton (perhaps even my baby sister leaving, or maybe even me leaving). Needless to say, I will require a lot of Kleenex if and when that time comes.


I should head off to watch Barefoot Contessa with Hessica before this blog becomes incessant. In a couple of weeks, she’ll have no school to use to excuse herself from watching non-Food Network TV with me and enduring horrible movies called The Fountain. I can’t wait! My parents are nearly on vacation (to NEW YORK!) as well, and Jess and I will have the house to ourselves in a short while. I plan on baking a great deal with Jess, watching movies late with friends, and festooning the door to our house with absurd decorations. I’m additionally looking forward to upcoming festivals, concerts, reenactments of scenes from Rocky Balboa, potential learning how to drive, and more of the already-enjoyed camping/reading/working/walks outside. I’m nearly finished reading Anne Lamott and Pascal now (both of which I’d recommend, although I’d recommend the former less heartily as she might offend readers quite easily), and am hoping to start reading through some stuff by Shane Claiborne and Tony Campolo and Eugene Peterson soon. I have also promised to give Harry Potter a chance this summer, so perhaps I’ll become an obsessed Harry Potter reader before school returns in the fall. If you’re not reading, I really suggest that you crack open a book; you can learn things and be entertained all at the same time. Besides the previously mentioned activities, I’m also nursing my poor summer-battered body back to health. The assaults that allergens, UV-laden sunrays, and blood-sucking mosquitoes have subjected me to have rendered me somewhat sore, but still alive and able to type at length, which you may have noticed. Anyhow, I’m off for TV fun with Jess and another agonizing application of aloe vera onto my back! I hope you’re all wearing SPF 30 and making yourselves vulnerable some of the time and enjoying all that summer has to offer!



Cait and Matt’s Incomplete List of Camping Adventures
- Cait stubbed her toe
- a thrilling ugly shoe comparison
- cracker snacks
- invented a game
- Cait NEARLY won Crazy 8 countdown
- we ate good Subway sandwiches, Matt ate 12.5 inches of sandwich, Cait was stared at for not wearing shoes due to aforementioned stubbed toe
- we saw the mountains
- Jordan was an expert animal-spotter
- Matt watched for deer and followed a semi
- Cait thought about #72 and watched mountains
- named and set up and admired Merman the space station
- a few select people “basked” in the “glow” of the candlelight
- Matt named Frederick the Fire Site who was reincarnated part way through the weekend
- Matt and Rob and Allan talked for a short period of time
- Matt and Allan felt each other’s sleeping bags
- the boys -Rob pretended they were macho and pushed cars for no good reason
- slept in waaay too late
- ate cereal from small boxes and Matt spilled milk all over
- Cait failed at President until the very end when we stopped (WHICH WAS A TRAGEDY OF EPIC PROPORTIONS)
- ate lunch at the Bear’s Paw and observed that turkey was better than roast beef
- Crystal was afraid of feces
- threw snowballs at each other
- Matt broke his backpack
- sang songs on the way such as Fly Me to the Moon, Down by the Bay, Row the Boat, Amazing Grace (to the tune of In the Jungle), Matt’s Christmas song (that included lyrics like: “please put a penny in the old man’s hat” and “the geese are getting fat” and had stomping actions)
- climbed a mountain and especially scary, unstable rocks and did not die
- saw many chipmunks at the top of the mountain
- drank snow
- attempted to ski down the mountain and ended up falling, charging, sliding, getting stuck and rolling
- skipped as high as possible
- made our own path down the mountain
- sat in a hot spring pool and had a snack in the café where they were playing Joni Mitchell and jumped in the cold pool and the lifeguard saved Matt from freezing
- a nurse corroborated “everything” that Cait said regarding vegetables and body temperature (but Cait is deluded)
- Cait did not blow dry her hair (what a wonderful and low maintenance person she is!)
- admired the ample-sized blue bruise on Cait’s toe
- made hotdogs that reflected our respective cooking abilities and Cait thought her hotdog stick was amazing, which it was, but it looked weird
- Cait was the only one who enjoyed smores
- Rob and Crystal ruled for a time at President together then Rob became the worst Janitor in the history of the game
- chatted about topics both silly and serious in Merman the Space Station for a long period of time
- were sadistic towards the sleepy Crystal and Rob when we got up in the morning (flashlights, Cait’s fighting skills, and Matt’s preaching were utilized quite effectively)
- ate poutine and delicious pizza for breakfast
- Cait spilled poutine on her jeans not once, but twice
- Matt ate ketchup with his poutine, and somehow did not vomit
- lazed around at Pyramid Lake while making miniature forests and throwing rock ammunition into the lake and splashing water on the faces of lazy nappers
- Sufjan serenaded us while we admired the pretty mountains and listened to Brit rock that Rob totally loved
- ate leftover marshmallows and watched Venus and chit-chatted



P.S. I am clearly a more expert blogger than you, Matt. I'm not sure why you would even attempt to keep up with my consistency in posting, but if you want to try, you should blog soon.
P.P.S. Football season is nigh. I am reeeeeally excited. We touched actual Commonwealth grass last weekend at the Police concert, which I'm sure means good luck and guarantees that the Eskies will make it into the playoffs this season. If they fail to make it into the playoffs again, I simply won't know what to do with myself.
P.P.P.S. I have decided that I should visit Albertan lakes more frequently. They make me happy.

Living in the Tension

I’m often struck by the dialectics that define our lives. So often, we are required to balance the various aspects of our lives and find where we fit amongst the extremes of this world. Rarely is spending all of my energy on one activity, dwelling excessively on one line of thought, or identifying with a fundamentalist belief a very wise course of action. Instead, I think that life is lived most fully when we embrace the tension that defines it. Life is messy, and imagining it to be black and white is rather ignorant in my estimation. Fleshing through life’s muddledness can be tricky, and it’s often easier to deny the mess that we find ourselves in. In my experience, Christians especially get caught in this trap of pretending that life is uncomplicated. While the truth of life is remarkably simple (God loves you, Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life; end of story), I’ve found that living this truth out is anything but clear-cut. Without God’s guidance and dialogue with others in my life, life can get awfully confusing awfully fast. How do I live in the world, but not be of it? Am I dismissing the command to love God sometimes when I concentrate so heavily on the command to love others? When do I need to go beyond saying the “nice” thing, and be candid? Questions like these are tricky to flesh out on my own. But I think failing to recognize that life is complicated means that we miss out on the full potential of life; working through the complications is ultimately so gratifying, and always takes me closer to the truth.


So often, North American Christians have supported black and white ideas like the “if you’re not with us, you’re against us” notion, despite Jesus’ converse words in Mark 9: “whoever is not against us is for us.” Jesus teaches that the weak are strong, and says, “blessed are the meek;” straightforward logic would contradict these statements. Life is not always straightforward, though. My favourite chapter in Rob Bell’s Sex God is the one titled “Angels and Animals” which pursues Blaise Pascal’s (AKA Bono in the Lobe household) idea that “man is neither angel nor beast.” In the context of Rob Bell’s book, this means that the church’s tendency to view ourselves as angels without flesh and a sexual side misses the point, while living as if we’re untamable animals isn’t any better, of course. Instead, recognizing the tension that exists between these two extremes, and working through this tension, is where we find the truth. I feel the struggle to flesh out life’s messiness most strongly at Easter. The days between Good Friday and Easter Sunday can be so strange because I want to remember Jesus’ sacrifice and the fact that my sin put Him on that cross, but at the same time I know that He lives again, and lives in me. (If you’re reading this, Caitlin, you’re not allowed to make fun! I know this sounds absurd. It’s true though. Too bad. Sometimes the most absurd things are the most true.)

I miss Zion a lot at Easter and Christmas, but McKernan really does have a beautiful Good Friday service that makes up for its lack of Zion-ness. Everyone takes Communion receives prayer at some point, and it’s a time of vulnerability, the kind of vulnerability that I miss from Zion. It’s a time of Communion, not just in the sense of the Eucharistic rite, but also in the sense of fellowship. I’m always struck in moments like these by the ache that people normally hide when they’re being invulnerable. Seeing people’s hurt on Friday, and thinking of Christ’s pain from the physical anguish and our heart-breaking betrayal, I feel especially aware of life’s ugliness and injustice and difficulty. Of course, I was also struck in this moment by the fact that we’re able to be in communion and receive salvation through Jesus’ blood. There was a tension in my mind between contrasting sentiments, but it was a tension that led me to a fuller understanding of that day’s significance. I want to live in the reality of life’s pain, whether it’s friends who are struggling, the suffering that so many people face on a daily basis, friends at work and school not knowing that Good Friday was for them, missing my old church, recognizing that it was my sin that held Him there, or simply wishing my grandparents were in town for Easter.


Of course, I want to rejoice always, and live in the reality of life’s beauty as well. I spent the morning with my oh-so-lovable family, remembered Jesus’ self-sacrificing love with a church that I care about very much, cooked a turkey dinner with some beautiful friends, walked around in the chilly-but-sunny Albertan spring, and spent the evening with some of my favourite people enjoying fellowship, silliness, and food (even under-appreciated hot cross buns and red Ecuadorian bananas). Matt, my corn-loathing friend behind such hit albums as Can You Say Indie? Volume 3: A Collection of Kintrasts, sent me Vega 4’s “Life Is Beautiful” a while ago, the chorus of which goes “life is beautiful, but it’s complicated.” It’s incredibly cliché, but true nonetheless. No matter how tough the going gets, I’ll always know God’s love and grace, which matter infinitely more than anything else. Even when life is easy peas, though, I don’t want to stop praying for friends who don’t know God’s love, I don’t want to become complacent, and I want to be able to share the burdens of others and hurt when they hurt. Life is messy, and I want to be willing to get dirty in the muddled disorder. There’s a tension in living between Jesus’ salvation-giving sacrifice and the time when God will restore everything, and there’s a tension in being part of an upside down Kingdom, and I embrace that tension.

On another tangent, I’ve become increasingly aware of the fact that, as Mr. Longbrake puts it, the less you have, the better off you are. I was bothered by my love of clothes and pretty furniture last fall, and have been praying about it since then. I don’t really want to want possessions, but it’s hard for me to shut off that desire. God’s somehow managed to convince me of this truth (in the way that my heart knows it, not just my head), and I’m caring decreasingly about these things. There’s nothing very profound about my diminished desire to consume, but I’ve found it to be quite encouraging and freeing to know deep-down that I don’t need things, and that God can work in me in ways that don’t seem at all plausible. I finished Sex God the other week, and Rob Bell speaks on lust for a portion of the book. Lust, as Bell paints it, is about buying into the promise that something will gratify and fulfill us in a way that nothing but God really can. Whether it’s sex, the admiration of others, pretty turquoise Lux ballet flats from Urban Outfitters that cost $39, or a trip to NYC, the good in these things is ultimately meant to point to God and live in the joy that He intended for us; these things were not meant to replace God. I’m not a very big fan of capitalism, and our small group was pondering the inescapability of “the system” in our society last week. We can’t really not go to school and subvert the get-a-job and make-a-living way of life in North America, because each of us is best equipped to love others by following this system to some extent in a capitalistic society. But as Shane Claiborne writes, we’re called to do “small things with great love,” whether in Calcutta, the grocery store, or our workplaces. It kind of stinks that I have to be a part of this system, but God can work even in this greed-based society that we’ve created (amazingly enough).


I would just like to reiterate how beautiful life is as I wrap up today’s blog entry. This morning, I woke up at 5:30 for some reason or other, and the sky was too beautiful to not get up and enjoy. I love orange skies, no matter what C&C non-city friends say about the city sky. The orange just looks so warm, and reminds me that there are people all around me contributing to the orangeness of the sky in some indirect way. Especially at 5:30 in the morning, God’s presence is so very apparent, even in the sky and falling snow and frosty wind. I was pondering God and life and people (the best things to ponder, of course), and the sky became the most remarkable shade of indigo purple. It was a beautiful moment, and it was so clear that God is so much bigger than anything else I’m facing. He’s bigger than the hardships of my friends, the things that money can buy, the poverty and injustice that exist in this world, and my exams and assignments and readings. He’s much bigger than even the sky, which is, of course, the biggest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. There’s not really anything more comforting than that. Not that His bigness or the backwardness of capitalism and competition give me an excuse to not care about any of the aforementioned things, but the fact that He loves me unconditionally and matters more than any of these things gives me a great deal of peace. And with that, I’m off to study! I trust that you’re all enjoying the snow rather than bemoaning it ceaselessly, as has become a trend at work. It’s cold and a nuisance, and really not suitable for springtime, but if you resolve to enjoy its delicate prettiness, it’s much more bearable.

P.S. Any of you who voted for peas on Saturday night have pained me deeply. Your betrayal was very harsh, and I don’t think I will ever cook corn for you again. Except that I will cook it again because you must all learn that corn is FAR superior to putrescent peas.
P.P.S. I am currently in love with Patrick Watson’s “The Great Escape.” Find a copy of it for yourself; he’s my latest favourite Canadian artist.
P.P.P.S. John Mayer is here in 18 days! And then Feist! And the Police! Plus, with K-Days, the Folk Fest, jazz concerts, and various other music fun, I’m exceedingly thrilled about the music that this summer has in store for Cait et al.
P.P.P.P.S. Jesus died for you. I pray that you know that deep-down.

Rules Schmules (Or Perhaps Not)

Quite often, I find rules to be ridiculous. The fact that brown belts can’t be paired with black shoes, that the commencement of a play must be greeted with applause, and the way in which guys often feel obligated to open doors exclusively for girls strikes me as kind of laughable. Ben (who is back!! I missed him!!) was arguing the merits of the latter item in that list this week, not surprisingly. His only explanation for why he feels compelled to open doors and pay for girls was based on the historical practice of such acts of chivalry. In truth, I’m not deeply troubled by boys opening doors for me, though sometimes I can’t help but giggle, nor am I going to refrain from clapping for a few moments when the curtains open at the Citadel just because I find it silly, but many implicit rules that our society has adopted are more significant and bothersome. Some rules have a profound impact on how we live day-to-day, and can be both unhelpful and unhealthy, whether it’s certain discussion-worthy topics becoming taboo, our unquestioning acceptance of some forms of authority, or the increasing unacceptability of greeting an unfamiliar passerby on walks down Whyte. Often, it’s Christian-created rules that bother me the most; I think it’s limiting to when we create set ways that we worship and pray in, make sometimes excessively-defined gender roles, and avoid acknowledging that we drink/dance/play poker (etcetera!) outside of church. I think it’s simplistic to think that there are set formulas that we can teach people to facilitate their courtship practices, “save” their non-Christian friends, maintain their sexual purity, be happy, and so on. People are individuals, and few formulas in life apply to everyone. If we want a formula, the combination of prayer, Bible-reading, and community generally diminish the need for silly “Ingredients to Success” lists. God created us to be individuals, and synthetic rules might be helpful to one person, but could easily be detrimental to another.


All this is to say that I’m not fond of certain manmade rules. But more than I’d like to think, my distaste for some expectations keeps me from recognizing the importance of truly important rules. I believe that God commanded us to do things for our own good; a command to be joyful has obvious merits, and even the not-so-obviously-valuable commandment not to covet is hard to argue with. God loves us, and wants us to live the rich lives, living this life can sometimes feel like a narrow path I think. This week, in various ways, I’ve seen how important some of these guidelines are, in situations that went south because of a lack of listening to God, or blessings that comes out of abiding by His rules even when it’s annoying and inconvenient (sometimes God asks me to do things that I find bothersome; I’ve found that it’s pretty much always a good idea to listen to Him though). The idea that as Christians, we should go to church on Sundays seems so rigid and arbitrary to me, but without consistent community and learning that a church body provides, it’s so hard to live “well” in that Christian sense, I think. God’s idea of marriage, too, is an idea that I am rather keen on, but a lot of people I talk about it with struggle with the restriction of it. When people do things their own way, it’ doesn’t always go so well. He’s shown me this week that He really does know best, and that when He’s not our Lord, things can get awfully messed up awfully fast. He never created these rules out of power-thirst; He created them out of love. I know this is vague, but I’ve found it to be a comfort this week to know that even when rules seem limiting and “fun-sucking,” as Crystal would say, they’re there for a reason. Despite my tendency to frown upon strange and arbitrary synthesized rules, there are rules that were made by Someone who knows better, and while my following them might sometimes seem futile, I’d like to think that it never really is.


I’ve been journaling about apathy and pride this week, neither of which are necessarily pleasant topics, but I’ve enjoyed the catharsis that comes along with writing about things. However, as I have decided from typing the past two paragraphs, some things aren’t blogged about so easily, so I shall refrain continuing my discussion of things learned this week! It’s been one of those weeks that is hectic and stressful, but somehow pleasant nonetheless. I’d be praying about something particular that was on my mind, and would open my devotionals, or turn to a page in my Bible, only to find that what I was reading something that addressed precisely what I’d been pondering. (At one point I was wondering to God what exactly a radical life looks like, as this is something I’ve been trying to define recently, and I opened my devotionals to find that that days’ readings were titled “A Radical Life.”) Sometimes there are just too many coincidences at once for all of them to be actual coincidences; I love when God’s presence is so very tangible. Friends, too, have brightened a taxing week. As aforementioned, Ben is back, and it was so good to catch up with him (I even enjoyed a violent, gender-stereotyping, intellectually limited film, which was quite momentous).

On the other end of the friend spectrum, my wonderful co-CJ friend, who likes to remain “Anonymous” in the blogosphere, met up with me for some iced Vietnamese coffee and chai today, and just chatting with her while sitting on strange tin chairs was so delightful. It’s nice to know that she’s remained as droll, clever, and lovely as she was in the days of mocking rat-loving LA teachers and lying about her father’s career (for more than two years!). She hooked me up with a cute little book on feminism, and made a brilliant sales pitch for the anti-racism concert she’s involved in next week; the fact that I hung out with both Ben and her this week makes me laugh. Jess was THE BEST study buddy over the past few days, the kind that says nice, supportive things and eats taco chips in bed with you, but also tell you to stop looking up “pecuniary” in the thesaurus when studying is necessary. (But really, isn't pecuniary a great word? I'm endeavouring to use it more regularly.) Jess and I have a new favourite song by Of Montreal titled “Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games,” and it’s definitely one of our best romantic theme songs of all time (it’s wise to have romantic theme songs with friends; Korp and I recently selected one from our choir repertoire, and we make kissing/eyelash-batting signals whenever we sing it at practice). Plus, dinner with some of my favourite sadistic people tonight was full of laughter, blushing, and general contentment. Crystal even confirmed that she’s going to watch Star Wars, something that she’s been avoiding for nearly a year.



Basically, people make life lovely even when school attempts to make it torturously painful. I had a midterm yesterday and today, and am currently writing an essay on the evolutionary theories related rape, which is rather depressing to research as you might imagine. Fortunately, writing and researching papers is far more stimulating than reading textbooks for hours on end, and I no longer have to write about A Knight’s Tale, which turned out to be a very unwise essay topic indeed. Besides textbooks and articles about the trauma of domestic abuse, I’ve been reading Sex God and Tuesdays with Morrie this week; these are both highly recommendable books, and thus, I am recommending them to you. As an aside, I will inform you that I struggled to find a copy of Sex God in Edmonton at first, and resultingly had to phone various book stores asking “Do you have a copy of Sex God in?” I found this to be slightly mortifying. Even worse was when I went to Chapters to get the copy that I’d finally got on hold, and the clerk very clearly thought that it was some Kama Sutra-esque book, and mouthed the title (refusing to say it aloud) when confirming that this was, indeed, the book that I wanted to read. He showed me the cover, and proceeded to ring it through without making eye contact or speaking again. In fact, Sex God is a Christian book about humanity, intimacy, desires, and so on; the clerk was evidently not aware of this. I really should be off to bed before the St. Patty’s bonanza that awaits me at work tomorrow morning, so I shall bid you all goodnight! I feel I should apologize for the excessive futility of this entry. This has been my break from reading articles, and I’m clearly not in a writing groove right now (hopefully this serves as a warm up for paper-writing tomorrow). Happy St. Patty’s Day my dear Irish and not-so-Irish friends!


P.S. Virb.com is going to replace Facebook and MySpace in 5 years. For now, I have made friends with Bloc Party while the rest of you remain satisfied with Facebook. 5 years, though, and you'll all be my Virb-buddies. Mark my words.
P.P.S. Puddles and sunshine and pleasant breezes make spring one of my favourite seasons. When wearing rainboots, the vast amount of mud is exceedingly enjoyable. My puffer jacket is officially stored away until next winter. I hope you're making the most of this pleasant time of year!
P.P.P.S. Conrad Black is difficult to love. His last name describes his heart quite suitably, I think. I am glad that Jean Chrétien was mean to him.