One thing that I love about college is all of the freedom. Now, most people would take that statement to mean that I can stay out as late as I want, or I can eat whatever I want, or I can watch as much TV as I want without being reprimanded by my parents. But considering that I am 18 going on 80, I use my free time to do things that I just didn't have time to do in high school. I've recently picked up knitting, rediscovered my passion for reading, become an avid follower of several fabulous fashion blogs, and remembered why I exercised so religiously this summer. These moments of introversion are absolutely my favorite.
Like tonight, for example. My lovely roommate Regan has been studying for her big exam tomorrow, so I've had the room to myself pretty much since dinner. I had some serious me time. I cleaned, I lit my Volcano Aspen Bay candle, I drank hot tea, I crafted, and I watched Atonement, a movie that I've owned for months but haven't gotten the chance to watch yet.
Atonement. This one I did read before seeing the film. What a beautiful novel, and it was so well-represented by the movie. But honestly, how could it possibly go wrong starring Keira Knightley and James McAvoy? It's also directed by the same man that did Pride and Prejudice, so now you're two for two. It's got a great plot, gorgeous setting, and a strikingly accurate depiction of WWII. It also has a great musical score, something that defines a lot of the movie for me. Something that I think is particularly brilliant about the soundtrack is the inclusion of the typewriter in the score, considering what a huge role the typewriter plays in the story. It gives the movie an eerie, haunting feel that I love. The movie does have a somewhat disturbing message... to me, at least. I think it has an extremely interpretive theme, so if you've read it, hit me up, cause I'd love to talk about it.
Absolutely gorgeous.
I would actually marry James McAvoy tomorrow.
Why, yes, that is my prom dress!
Kiera Knightley is just wonderful.
So, in a nutshell, I love being an introvert, and having time, and watching movies that nobody will watch with me based on books that nobody will read, and making crafts that people may never actually see.
My first memory of mathematics occurs at Mary Lant Cotten's house, circa fourth grade. We had just learned long division, and it fascinated me. I remember the satisfaction that I received from solving a division problem, from double-checking it by multiplying the result by the divisor. After learning this particular form of mathematics, I spent the night at Mary Lant's house for her Groovy Girl themed birthday party. As a makeshift form of entertainment, there was a long sheet of paper taped to the wall. Her mom had provided markers for the girls with which to write. Most girls were doodling their names, with hearts around them connecting their names to those of their crushes. After creating my fair share of artwork (I have always been a grand proficient of bubble-letters), I moved onto a much more worthwhile creation... Long division. My friends scoffed and pointed, but I could not be stopped. I was doing long division on that thin, long sheet of paper hanging from Mary Lant's walls, and no one was going to persuade me to do otherwise.
If we are going to be completely honest, that night as Mary Lant's house was the first and last time that I can recall being one hundred percent confident in my mathematical abilities.
It was not long after this that I realized my intense dislike for math. A sort of disgust, if you will. I can distinctly remember the night when I realized that my relationship with math was, once and for all, terminated.
I was in sixth grade, and I had just received the honor of being selected for Mrs. Chastain's advanced math class. If you went to Briarwood elementary, then you understand that acceptance into this highly prestigious class is practically eternal glory. It was like winning the Triwizard Tournament. I used this new celebrity status to my advantage as much as I could. I carried myself with more pride than ever before.
However, this pride soon gave way to shame.
It was slope that did me in. I simply could not understand this concept. Rise over run meant nothing to me. y=mx+b was a jumbling of letters that might as well have been in a different language. I remember sitting on the couch in my living room with my dad, poring over countless graphs and equations. I was in tears, and my dad must have been frustrated that I could not understand this seemingly simple concept, but he, being the wonderful man that he is, continued to help me throughout the wee hours of the night.
It was all downhill from there.
Beginning with my inability to comprehend slope, my life has been a never-ending war with mathematics, and every battle since then has been a losing one. I don't need to chronicle my relationship with math year by year, but take my word for it that there was never again a time when math came naturally to me. From my disqualification from math team (still the single most embarrassing failure of my academic career), to my fiasco with Mrs. Bush (again... if you went to Briarwood, you understand, and feel my pain), to my atrocious score on my AP statistics exam, math has destroyed me, year by year.
Anyway...
All of this goes to say that, today, I took the last math test that I will ever have to take. In. My. Life. As in... forever. As in, I will never ever ever again be graded on my ability to add, subtract, divide, multiply, derive, calculate, measure, factor, simplify, or fraction.
This is a beautiful realization.
Let's hear it for the English majors. May math forever be absent in our lives.
However, if you are not fortunate enough to be forever released from math's relentless jaws, here are some math jokes to lessen your pain.
As of right now, this second, I have had 7,807 page views.
By January 8, 2012, I would like to have seen that number increase by 2,193.
(And yes, I did just use a calculator to do that simple subtraction. Writer, not mathematician, remember? (Oh, and that being said, I just completed my first and LAST semester of math courses that I will ever have to take in my life. Booyah.))
By that point, I will have been blogging for exactly one year. And I would love love LOVE to have 10,000 page views on that day!
I understand that this is extremely narcissistic of me, but, hey, I'm human, and humans like to think that they're of consequence, especially blogging humans.
So tell your friends, tell your family, tell your friends's families.
Support the cause, guys.
The give Clumsy Kim confidence cause.
ALLITERATION!
And, as motivation, I'll even bless you with an awesome wintry playlist.
1. Ghost- Ingrid Michaelson
2. O Come, Let Us Adore Him - Shane & Shane
3. Hold Onto What You Believe - Mumford and Sons
4. For Emma, Forever Ago, a cappella - Bon Iver
5. Sister Winter - Sufjan Stevens
6. Auld Lang Syne - Various Artists, The Hotel Cafe Winter Songs
Thanksgiving. I have this theory that all of the holidays can be represented by one of each of the seven deadly sins, thanksgiving especially. But at least it's my favorite deadly sin, gluttony. And by the way that I have spent my thanksgiving break, this holiday can also be portrayed by deadly sin number four, sloth. Literally, I have done nothing this week besides knit, read, and watch Christmas movies. And today is no exception; I'm just going to add about ten pounds of food into the gluttonous mix.
This break has been an incredible breath of fresh air. After the single most difficult week in my academic career thus far, (seven papers, three tests, two powerpoints, and a partridge in a pear tree). I skipped my last class on Friday and sped on home to be reunited with my family and friends, for whom I am so thankful. I went to my high school's quarter-final football game and cheered them onto victory, just as enthusiastic about their win as I was a year ago. From that point on, my week has been filled with reunions, laughter, crafts, movies, and family.
I am thankful. I am thankful that my transition to college has been less than traumatic, that Christmas break is fast approaching, that I have made new friends, that I have kept old friends. One is silver, and the other is gold.
And I'm thankful for this new store that I've recently uncovered, Ruche. You might have seen my entry from a few days ago with their winter lookbook. My dream has never been to be a housewife, but this gorgeous home decor is causing me to have second thoughts.
And of course, I am thankful for Sara Bareilles's new Christmas song, Love Is Christmas. While it's a December tune, it sings of gratefulness and beauty and all of the lovely things one expects from Sara. Love is not a toy, and no paper can conceal it.
I just finished what has the potential to be one of the greatest books I have ever read. I did something that I don't usually do with this book: I saw the movie before reading the novel. I saw the movie because I love Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess, but I read the book because the movie really affected me.
There are few books that can still be enjoyed after seeing the movie beforehand. There are few books that contain both literary value and a compelling plot. There are few books that can tear you apart at the climax, yet fill you with so much satisfaction at its close. There are few books that you simply refuse to put down because you can hardly contain yourself from finishing, yet you still feel sad when you finally turn that final page. One Day by David Nicholls is one such book.
This book reminded me of why I am an English major; why I study literature and not medicine or pharmacy or engeineering. I am a lover of the written word. I am in love with the smell of coffee and books and Barnes and Noble, with the way words look when I see them on a page, with the way they sound when they roll off my tongue, with the gorgeous arrangement they make when they are strung together into a sentence. Like popcorn on a Christmas tree.
Read this book. See this movie. You won't regret it.
She began walking again towards the Mound. 'Live each day as if it's your last', that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that? What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn't practical. Better by far to simply try and be good and courageous and bold and to make a difference. Not to change the world exactly, but the bit around you. Go out there with your passion and your electric typewriter and work hard at... something. Change lives through art maybe. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved in return.
Y'all. It really is coming. Christmas is fast upon us! Wreaths are hanging from the stoplights in downtown Starkville, practically every student you meet on the Drill field is drinking peppermint mochas out of Starbucks Christmas cups, and the foyer of Chi Omega house is covered from top to bottom with owl ornaments.
And it was 65 degrees outside today.
I understand; I live in Mississippi. Awkward weather is expected this time of year. But, God, come on, for those of us that don't own a pair of zip-off pants, could you make the weather a bit more seasonally appropriate?
In other news...
There are a lot more things coming up besides Christmas. And by a lot of things, I mean four papers, four finals, and two tests. But I also mean an Avett Brothers concert, a weekend with my three best friends, a Brandi Carlile/Indigo Girls concert, a blind date (only time will tell about this one...), and THANKSGIVING!
I'm had a hard time living in the now these days. With so much to look forward to in the near future, how can I focus on my upcoming four papers, four finals, and two tests? But focus I must.
It's hard to live life without counting down. It's much harder to live in the now than people think. We get in these ruts and think, once I graduate high school, I'm going to _______. Once I finish college, I'm going to (travel, get a job, get married, write a book). What have you. That's when my life will start. And we get these little countdowns going, and, in doing so, we wish our lives away. I kept a countdown for about a year before my sixteenth birthday (This countdown, however, is not one that I regret. The year that I was fifteen was potentially the worst one of my life). I've been keeping track of the days til Christmas break since I moved in. And I think it's great to have these countdowns. It's great to have things to look forward to. But, odds are, that some things that we look forward to overshadow the joy that we find in living our life nowto the fullest. The future can be crippling. It handicaps us and renders us incapable of fulfilling our daily lives until we can move on to our exciting future selves.
It's time like these that I am reminded of the wise words of Albus Dumbledore:
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Remember that."
Such a wise man. It really is a shame that he's fictional.
I don't know. Just my thoughts. And my procrastination. Remember those four papers, four finals, and two tests that I told you about? I should be working on that. But it's whatever. I love blogging. And it's been too long since I blessed the internet with my pearls of wisdom.
With all this talk about countdowns, I couldn't resist. You know you loved it. And you think she's hot. And you want to be her. You know it.
Once upon a time there was a girl. This girl was seventeen years old and a senior in high school. Her weekly schedule consisted of attending her prestigious private school (dressed from head-to-toe in her wannabe hipster Urban Outfitters attire) from about eight-oh-five am (she was always a few minutes late, but her economics teacher never seemed to care) til about three o'clock (school ended at two-forty, but she would almost always spend at least ten or fifteen minutes in the parking lot with her friends, catching up on each other's days). This girl would then drive her sister home, but not until after they had stopped by McAlister's Deli, the not-so-hot spot in Birmingham, Al, for sweet tea and chocolate chip cookies. This girl would then study for a couple hours, run, and then head right back up to the school for rehearsal for whatever play the drama department was currently perfecting, and in which she was always the star. Her weekends were filled with sleepovers, football games, catching predators, and trips to Doodles, which was the slightly hotter hangout for Bham high schoolers.
Then this girl turned eighteen and went to college.
This girl was not naive. She had known that college would be hard. She had foreseen the difficulties of saying goodbye to her best friends of twelve years, of giving up her private school fairytale lifestyle, of wearing tshirts and shorts to class instead of skirts and heels, of stepping down from the Barbara B Barker stage and relinquishing the spotlight to her younger friends. But she hadn't realized that her worth came from these worthless things.
You can guess where I'm going with this.
This weekend I went home to see my high school's fall musical. I had been looking forward to it all week. I was the biggest drama geek in high school: skipping class to hang out with my friends in the green room, singing duets on the stage "just because," eating all of my meals in the auditorium instead of going home. I loved planning my daily schedule around the times posted on the callboard, of course allotting for time that I would spend after rehearsal hanging out in the parking lot behind the auditorium. I loved the feeling that performing gave me; it was a wonderful, self-glorifying rush, singing on that stage, and nothing else could make me feel that way. Then I went to college, and I began performing on a much larger stage, but in a much smaller way.
This year, I'm not going to rehearsals every night. I'm not performing in shows. I'm not sitting next to my best friends during class who will clap for me when I get a good grade on a test or give me a hug when I don't. I don't have friends to compliment my carefully planned outfits every day because I'm wearing tshirts and nike shorts and Chacos just like every sorority girl on the planet. And instead of eating lunch at the same table with the same girls in the same gym that I've been in since I was twelve, I'm eating at a sorority house with 75 other girls that I still don't know all the names of, even though bid day was almost three months ago.
I'm starting completely from scratch. I'm redefining my life. The foundation that I spent twelve years building...? Not so solid. It crumbled, as it should have. I'm not meant to be in one place forever. No one is.
I've had to redefine my life in college in a big way. And in four years, when I graduate, I'll have to build another life from nothing all over again. And again when I get a job. Or move. Or get married. My life, from this point on, is never going to stop changing.
I've realized recently that maybe, had I not been so wrapped up in these meaningless things, my transition to college would have been much easier. Had I not defined myself by the group of girls that I met with after third period every day, had I not found my identity in the amount of time I spent in the auditorium, had I not placed so much importance on what outfit I was going to wear to school the next day...
These things were idols. If they hadn't have been, I wouldn't miss them so much. I filled my life with these things that I believed were truly fulfilling. But, the truth is, while these things might be wonderful, they don't last forever. They don't even last nearly as long as we would wish for them to. And that is a difficult pill to swallow. Friends will disappoint you, possessions will turn to dust, and talents will fade away.
But something that never disappoints, disintegrates, or fades, is the love of Christ. Which is why our identity is found in Him and only Him. If we attempt to place our trust or define ourselves in anything else, we'll find ourselves lost and disillusioned the next time we're forced to start over. So, the only option is to lean on Jesus. Everything else... well, it's sinking sand.
"Truly my soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from Him. Truly He is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will never be shaken."
Psalm 62:1-2
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who only dream by night.
I've never been one to go all out on holidays. I love Christmas decorations and driving around looking at lights. I like to give and receive gifts on Christmas morning. And most of all, I like to wear scarves and boots and drink hot beverages. But it's never been this huge to-do for me.
I don't know why. I wish there was some deep introspective reason as to why I'm a big of a Scrooge, but, sorry, I have no excuse.
But never fear, friends, because those days of Grinch-dom are over at last.
It all started at the beginning of this month. I've always considered myself to be a summertime gal through and through, but for some reason fall really captured my attention this year (as stated by my last post). So, of course, the day that the leaves started to turn and the temperature started to drop, I began to celebrate Halloween. I forced a bunch of my friends to visit the local "pumpkin patch" with me (aka sketchy produce store in the middle of nowhere), made a midnight trip to a haunted graveyard, bought candy-corn shaped Christmas lights to decorate our dorm room, and put stick-on letters that spell HALLOWEEN on our door. I crammed everything that one should do during the month of October into one weekend, which I guess is the reason that I hurried merrily along to Christmas so quickly (Some might be angry that I skipped right over Thanksgiving, but honestly, all we do on Thanksgiving is eat a lot and watch football, and I do that anyways).
There are, however, a few more reasons that I'm in the Christmas spirit a bit more this year than in years past.
1. Sufjan Stevens Christmas Album- It's great, y'all. I'm all about some chill, obscure Christmas music, and this one takes the cake. It really does. It's praise to Christ's incarnation at its most raw and touching. Sufjan just has such a pretty voice, and it's complimented so well by the acoustic instruments that accompany him on the tracks. Even though it's generally Christmas music, it also has some hymns on it, thus making this cd acceptable year round.
2. My awesome new BIG, Shelly Johnston! I feel like she deserves a shout-out on here since she practically stalked me to find out that my blog even existed. We finally found out who our big sisters were for Chi-O last night, and after all the excitement died down, she and her roommate showed us their super cute room, which is totally decked out for CHRISTMAS!!!
And in addition to this Christmas atmosphere, Judy Garland was playing in the background. Have yourself a merry little Christmas, indeed.
3. Home. Home home home. This is the main symptom of my Christmas disease. There really is "no place like home for the holidays." It's such a cheery atmosphere during the winter. I love drinking hot chocolate after being outside and I love not feeling like a slob when I watch movies all day long, an activity that is only acceptable during Christmas break. I love eating and sleeping too much. I love Christmas shopping at the Summit with my friends. Most of all, though, I love spending time with my family; I love that automatic connection that seems to bind all families together this time of year.
Pretty much the Rockettes.
And of course, there is just no place as beautiful as Birmingham, Alabama during December. That really doesn't even bear mentioning.
We like to think we're cool in bham. This is practically Times Square.
My favorite place to be at Christmastime.
Only 65 days to go, people. You'd better be good, because he sees you when you're sleeping and knows when you're awake.
God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. Genesis 1:31
Something that I have learned since coming to college is how to appreciate simple things. I've always thought that I was a somewhat simple girl (alliteration... what what??), but now, looking back, I have never been as, shall we say, chill as I am now. Not to say that I'm not busy, because I am, but I do have a lot of time to myself. A lot. Which can be good, and it can be bad. I'm lonely sometimes, but the times that I am lonesome, I turn to God instead of my millions and trillions of new friends. Which is a blessing. The Lord has a funny way of working things out, don't you think? It's beautiful to think about where I was this time last year. And what's even more beautiful is what I have become this year. Not to say that I'm perfect now, but I am growing. And changing. And learning and loving and appreciating.
All of this goes to say, it's a beautiful life that we live. Especially this time of year. Starkville, Mississippi is brilliant in the fall. It really has been one of those weeks where I have walked around grinning from ear to ear. I was literally singing hymns on my way to the Chi O house Wednesday. Nothing can bring me off this autumn cloud I'm on, and anyone that tries to will be met with a goofy smile.
So this is an ode to beauty. And a hope that maybe my new appreciation of the little pieces of simplicity that color this time of year will cause you to open your eyes just a little bit wider so that you too can get a better view of the big picture.
Simple, beautiful things:
1. Going to the laundry room to get your clothes that you left drying and discovering that they are folded and placed neatly in your laundry bag:
This is just a snapshot of the nice things people have done for me since being in college. I'm telling you, nice people attend Mississippi State University.
7. Friends that bring you chicken noodle soup and carbonated water that you just met two months ago but already know you so so well.
8. Having friends in my sorority
9. Having friends in different sororities
10. Having time
11. Writing letters
12. Boys making sure that girls have a seat on the shuttle before they get on themselves.
13. Realizing that God knows so much more than you do and accepting that gorgeous truth.
"To God be the glory, great things he hath done."
Friday, September 30, 2011
Surely then you will lift up your face without blemish; you will be secure and will not fear. You will forget your misery; you will remember it as waters that have passed away. And your life will be brighter than the noonday; it's darkness will be like the morning. And you will feel secure, because there is hope. You will look around and take rest in security. You will lie down, and none will make you afraid...
We've all been there... we've all seen that couple roaming downtown, holding hands, wearing fedoras and Mary Jane's and Converse. The effortless beauty and simplicity of an indie couple. And we've all felt envious of that sort of love, raw and artistic.
Or maybe that's just me and my wannabe indie friends.
This weekend I bought the Weepies cd Say I Am You. I know, it's been out there in the musical ether for a while. It was only a matter of time before I bought a full album by them. I've always thought that Deb had a cute and catchy voice, but I didn't really fall in love with her before I found out who she was in love with... her band mate! Who is the same person as her husband!
Guys. That is presh.
As put by vibetothis.com... Love & Music - truly two beautiful things -- no??? There seems to be an appreciable fusion of these two going on in the scene today -- that remarkable event where two banjo-loving heterosexual hipsters hit it off in just the right way and start creating something nice.
I seriously considered just copying and pasting that into this post and taking complete credit for this witty statement, but my conscience proved otherwise. It just hits the nail on the head.
So why not pay tribute to these indie couples? Let's give a round of applause to theses unsung heroes, not only of indie music, but of indie romances.
1. The Weepies: Like I said, they're adorable. Click here to go to their website and then click about to see their one-of-a-kind indie love story and then tell me that you're not jealous. See? You are. Jealousy.
And a song...
2. Zooey Deschanel and Ben Gibbard: Alright, so I didn't exactly know that these two were married til the other day. I was under the common misconception that she is married to her bandmate, M. Ward. False. But the truth is even better. She's married to Ben Gibbard. As in, Death Cab for Cutie Ben Gibbard. As in, one of the best songwriters of our time.
3. Marcus Mumford and Carey Mulligan: The only reason I found out about this couple is because I googled if Marcus Mumford was single. No lie. I have the biggest crush on him ever. But, you know, if I were to give him up to one woman, it would be Carey (or Laura Marling, his ex). You know her, you love her. That's a match made in heaven if I ever saw one.
And this song... I hope that my hipster hubbie will one day sing it for me.
Those are the ones that stick out in my mind. Any other hipster lovers that are blog-worthy?
I was trying to describe you to someone a few days ago. You don't look like any girl I've ever seen before.
I couldn't say "Well she looks just like Jane Fonda, except that she's got red hair, and her mouth is different and of course, she's not a movie star..."
I couldn't say that because you dont look like Jane Fonda at all.
I finally ended up describing you as a movie I saw when I was a child in Tacoma Washington. I guess I saw it in 1941 or 42, somewhere in there. I think I was seven, or eight, or six.
It was a movie about rural electrification, a perfect 1930's New Deal morality kind of movie to show kids. The movie was about farmers living in the country without electricity. They had to use lanterns to see by at night, for sewing and reading, and they didn't have any appliances like toasters or washing machines, and they couldn't listen to the radio. They built a dam with big electric generators and they put poles across the countryside and strung wire over fields and pastures.
There was an incredible heroic dimension that came from the simple putting up of poles for the wires to travel along. They looked ancient and modern at the same time.
Then the movie showed electricity like a young Greek god, coming to the farmer to take away forever the dark ways of his life. Suddenly, religiously, with the throwing of a switch, the farmer had electric lights to see by when he milked his cows in the early black winter mornings. The farmer's family got to listen to the radio and have a toaster and lots of bright lights to sew dresses and read the newspaper by.
It was really a fantastic movie and excited me like listening to the Star Spangled Banner, or seeing photographs of President Roosevelt, or hearing him on the radio "... the President of the United States... "
I wanted electricity to go everywhere in the world. I wanted all the farmers in the world to be able to listen to President Roosevelt on the radio....
So many awesome things come about as a result of random trips to the thrift store. On my most recent jaunt, I left the thrift store with a $2 cd, a $5 tshirt, and a date. Thrift stores can disgust, confuse, intrigue, and enlighten shoppers. I went on my first Starkville thrift store adventure a couple weeks ago and bought an Evan and Jaron cd. I've loved Evan and Jaron ever since my first true love from junior high told me he liked the song Crazy For This Girl. I figured that if I learned all the words to it and just happened to pass him in the hallway while singing it he would realize that we were meant to be and we would live happily ever after. But we all know that was not the case. Anyway...
I couldn't resist purchasing the album. The pros completely outweigh the cons: it was only 2 dollars, I love Crazy For This Girl, it reminds me of young love... But there's one track on the cd that I particularly love. It's called Wouldn't It Be Nice To Be Proud?
This song caught my eye because... well... it would be nice to be proud. Really nice.
I sometimes find myself thinking, we didn't have to win that game, but it sure would've been nice.
I didn't really need to win that contest, but it sure would've been nice.
I didn't really have to make that grade, but, man, would it've been nice.
And so on.
Who doesn't want to look back on their life and be "proud?" As the song says, "Now I've found a little time//to take a look back//from the caboose//and follow the tracks of my life." We all have things we want to accomplish. We all have dreams. But when these dreams become more than goals, when they become idols, when this search for pride becomes all-encompassing... Houston, we have a problem.
Recently I've found myself struggling with pride. As stated by the brilliant, brilliant Avett brothers, "I want to have pride like my mother has//not like the kind in the bible that turns you bad." It's not exactly that I find myself feeling proud... it's actually more like the opposite. I find myself searching for the respect and admiration from my peers in order to feel proud. I look for things to build myself up. I want to be proud to wear the letters of my sorority, proud to be a student at my university, proud to be a english/music therapy/spanish/musical theatre/fill-in-the-blank major.
But guess what? (You can probably tell where this is going.)
I discovered something that we can all be proud of....
Our inheritance in Christ Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Until we have ultimate satisfaction and pride in our relationship with him, nothing more is going to satisfy us.
Because he is the ultimate thirst-quencher, the ultimate cup-filler, the ultimate pride-giver.
"He chose our inheritance for us, the pride of Jacob, whom he loved." Psalm 47:4
"As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness, I shall be satisfied with your likeness." Psalm 17:15
Joseph, you never thought that our trip to the thrift store would lead to a super-deep, introspective blog post, did you?
XOXO Clumsy Kim.
Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, I don't watch Gossip Girl.
Yes, Coach Brown. There is such a thing. Those of you that took economics senior year at Briarwood will understand that allusion, and those of you that didn't... well, those of you that didn't are lucky, lucky blog readers.
But, basically, the subject of this post is free stuff. Cause, c'mon, who doesn't love to receive a "free lunch" every now and then? Even if it's just a number one from Chic-Fil-A that the cashier graciously gives to you because you forgot your wallet and you don't realize this until after you've already ordered. Thanks, Truett Cathy, for hiring such quality employees. Seriously.
But, as great as free Chic-Fil-A is, you know what's even better?
Free music.
Yes, there is such a thing.
No, you don't have to steal it.
Just ask one of my personal favorite artists of all time, Josh Woodward.
Josh (yeah, first name basis) puts all of his music on the web for free. I don't really know why this is, but for some reason, he really loves the fact that people don't have to pay for his music. I'm convinced that he has some amazing job (dentist is my guess... I get a dentist-y vibe from him for some reason) that allows him to do what he really loves: write and produce music. He does allow people to buy his music, but that's at a name-your-own-price policy, and he prefers that you just get it for free. He just loves his music, and I truly think that he just wants others to love it too. Money's not an object. And that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.
Click here to download all of his songs for free. He even makes it easy for you to navigate the system by categorizing his music: light acoustic? light rock? dark acoustic? dark rock? He's got everything. About 5000 songs worth of everything .
A few of my favorite JW songs:
1. Darien Gap
"I wonder if you're still marooned with a glow, waiting for someone to pave you a road to your dreams."
This song haunts me. As does the one below.
2. She Dreams In Blue
3. Gallows Hill
This one is darkly funny. Completely different side of Josh, but still one you've gotta love.
Another quickie on free music...
Ten Out of Tenn, anyone?
Ten Out of Tenn is a group of ten artists from Nashville, TN, that band together every year to put together a fantastic singer-songwriter album and go on an even more fantastic tour. I've never had the opportunity to see the entire group on tour, but I have seen some of the artists individually, and they are all awesome. It's obvious to the observers that they are all passionate about what they do, and that they, like Josh Woodward, do it not for the money, but for the pure love of music. Which, again, is beautiful.
But, anyway, the new TOT album came out this week, and guess what? It's free. That's right, free.
There aren't any youtube videos for these songs yet, or else I would post them, and I know you would LOVE to listen to them, but I'll leave you with a list of my favorites from the album. Did I mention it's free?
1. The Bed You Made - Jeremy Lister
2. Not Foolin' Around Tonight - Butterfly Boucher
3. Just You - Amy Stroup
4. Leave To See - Trent Dabbs
5. Free My Mind - Katie Herzig
You don't have to thank me. But, if you feel the need to present to me a token of your gratitude, checks can be made payable to Clumsy Kim. I also love gift cards.
Guys, don't steal music. It's not cool. Why steal when there's so much free stuff to be had?
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster, Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three beloved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster. -- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.
Once I had a friend. A best friend. And he chose, chose, to remove me from his life. To delete me, if you will. Although I understand the circumstances of his actions, it does not make the repercussions of them hurt any less. Sometimes, life just gets in the way of what we want.
So long, friend. It was fun while it lasted, but now I must erase you from my memory.
It costs too much to be your friend. It costs too much.
