I hate having to rewrite posts.
I have such a long list of things to do today and no motivation to do them, but i really have to.
I have a headache and ate way too much tonight.
I hate that Sara doesn't talk to me and that i don't like her so i don't talk to her but i still do "like" her somewhat. I hate that jealous inferior rejected whatever feeling i get whenever she's friendly with anyone else in the house. I hate that i can't just get over it, move on, not care. Blergh.
it's on the tip of our tongues / the look in our eyes, in the glare of the sun / the touch of our cold fingers, when we say goodbye / the way that we linger / the way that we lie...
I talked to a number of friends tonight, though, and my Soc group is so on-the-ball and i met with my other presentation group at brunch and we divided up the work reasonably. My life does not suck.
Less than 2 weeks until home. This is weird. There's so much i love here, and being home is always a bit weird and a bit off, like something that was always such a comfortable fit that you never even thought about the fact that it was fitting, and now the fit is imperfect, and every time you turn it chafes and you are aware of how it doesn't fit (yes, i'm making some weird metaphor about wearing jeans here, and doing a piss-poor job of it i know). But it's only 3 weeks and it will be a very good 3 weeks i know. I should be very excited.
Is so tempting to make that my new motto.
My dry-erase board still says "Love Bravely, Elizabeth" at the top, but now at the bottom above the "13 days" it says "Me, I'm unreliable, I've got evil hand issues and I'm bored with this crap." We shall see how long it remains there. Definitely got the cognitive dissonance going on with the "love bravely" and the "evil hand." I enjoy the fact that they're all different colors -- "love bravely" in blue, "evil hand" in black, and "13 days" in red. Yes i really am going to bed soon.
We carry within ourselves new life. Like an unborn child, the life of God grows unseen yet profoundly felt. Insistently pushing and prodding us, enlarging the contours of our lives and our hearts, as intimate as our own breathing, yet utterly other, the divine presence waits to be born.
-Wendy L. Wright
CALL TO WORSHIP
One: In the cold of winter,
Many: Let us offer your warmth.
One: In the face of despair,
Many: Let us offer your hope.
One: In the shadow of war,
Many: Let us offer your peace.
One: In the midst of fear,
Many: Let us proclaim your steadfastness.
One: In all things,
Many: Make us your heralds of good tidings, this day and always.
On the second Sunday in Advent we light the candle of peace.
Then together we said the prayer of St. Francis (as Sarah McLachlan played in my head):
Lord, make us instruments of your peace.
where there is hatred, let us sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is sadness, joy;
and where there is darkness, light.
Grant that we may seek
not so much to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in dying that we receive,
in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and in dying that we are born
to eternal life. Amen.
My computer is still cranky.
War of the Worlds is fairly boring so far (am only about 10 minutes into it and just stopped it because i realized i was totally tuning out) but there's already been a bit which would work really well with my Soc presentation, so that's good.
Have done a decent amount of work on both my presentations, though there's still plenty more that i need to get done, and i keep forgetting about other things i have to get done even though i do have them all written down on one piece of paper.
I did laundry. And i made a playlist to listen to while i do my homework. Oh the ways we procrastinate under the guise of productivity.
I feel blergh. Am leaving for Vespers in 15 minutes. Christine Lavin is still up in the air. Shall see how i feel when the time comes.
Am also hungry.
Another one is "We could solve so many of the world's problems if we just got rid of the guns." At her concert tonight, Christine Lavin performed a song that Cheryl Wheeler wrote. Before she played it she quoted someone whose name i've forgotten as saying "It's very hard to write a good political song, but very easy to write a bad one" and stated that Cheryl had written a very good one. Most of the song is a long list of "Maybe it's..." with some good lines like "Maybe it's the Bible, maybe it's the lack." The punch at the end is something like "All I know is if it were me in charge, I would get rid of the guns." My immediate reaction was a flash to Glassner's "IT'S THE GUNS, STUPID" and how that made me twitch/cringe. Then i could hear my father's voice saying "That's such a pat answer. And what does it do? You can't get rid of all the guns, so even if it would solve the problems it's not an option." I was just very frustrated.
Mostly the concert was good. She played "What Was I Thinking?" (with a new final verse about Martha Stewart -- "What was she thinking? She's already rich. This just goes to show that she's a -- greedy person."), "Planet X," "Good Thing He Can't Read My Mind" ("I am at the opera. I don't like the opera. But he loves the opera. And I love him."), "Harrison Ford," and other songs i didn't know that weren't so good, that seemed more like narratives with guitar in the background. There was overuse of her magic machine that repeats her singing, too much holiday medley, but she did the glowy baton twirling at the end which i had been hoping she would do. :) I don't at all regret going.
On the way back it began to sink in just how much work i have to do by this Tuesday and by this Friday. I am so screwed.
I just came across this:
"You wouldn't see a subtle plan if it painted itself purple and danced naked on top of a harpsichord, singing 'Subtle plans are here again!'"
-Ebenezer Blackadder, Black Adder's Christmas Carol
It made me laugh and definitely improved my mood. Haven't figured out what it is i need to really lift me out of my funk. What i really should do of course is focus on all the work i have to do, and perhaps close the door so the sounds of Sara being chatty with various people in my hall stop drifting into my room and fueling my angst and bad mood.
"Vox" by Sarah McLachlan. The instrumental interlude between the verses was what was stuck in my head, making it difficult to figure out which song it was from. There's a better word than "accomplished" for how i feel, but i can't think of it.