I had no idea it was going to be this difficult. God, I just want to know that you have a plan for me! PLEASE, just tell me you have something and that I'm not in this for nothing. Please wrap me up in your embrace and let me know that you love me! I NEED you, Father, I CAN'T do this. Who am I without you, God? Restriction, restriction, I see it being set into motion even now. God, my heart is grieving. I am alone here, but I don't say that to complain, but to shock it into my own system. You are all I have here. Oh, God, You are all I have here. The soup in my mouth tastes vile and I can hardly make my throat work enough to swallow it; I'm choking and my eyes are stinging and my face is wet. I want to be where you are, God. God? Please. I love you and I have to get out of the boat. I have to follow you. I have to accept this burden. I have to understand that I'll never understand— You are God, and I am not. But don't leave me, Father, don't forsake me. I want to rip out my heart and throw it at your feet because I can't stand how it's hurting me, how it's aching in me. Father I hate time. I HATE TIME. I don't want to wait I don't want to wait I don't want to wait. Please, God, give me patience! Please! Soothe me, Father, speak tenderly to me, help me to raise up my hands and rejoice in every season. You are STILL God. I am weak, Father, weak, but you are strong. Please, please, I beg for peace. Your true and unfailing peace, that transcends all understanding. Even in the tempest, I ask for your peace. When I am in turmoil and I cannot see or feel and I feel numb and on fire, I ask for your peace. Guide me through this maze. I will follow you. I have nothing else here. I love you. But help me to love you more and more and more. Please.

Being a Tarheel :)

Okay, so my first class today was Spanish 204— let me tell you, I was a little nervous, considering everyone I had talked to had Spanish 203 or lower! I was afraid I was getting myself into something way over my head, considering taking Spanish in high school was cake and last year we didn't even have a qualified teacher. At first I walked into the wrong classroom with another girl, because our schedules had said our room number was "2", and usually they start in the 100's and work their way up. So we followed a bunch of other people who said they also had Spanish 204, and it turned out there were two spanish classes and we were in the wrong one. Ours was in the basement, haha, the only classroom down there. I thought that was sort of funny. The teacher seems nice; I'm not sure where she's from, but she's of hispanic origin. Luckily, I understood everything she said, because the entire class is taught in spanish (obviously), but she speaks slowly enough for us to not be entirely lost, and it seems like she's willing to repeat herself or at least clarify if we need it. It's only a 50 minute class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and it's small, which is nice. We did a couple exercises asking questions to a partner, and then we had to introduce our partner to the class based on what we learned. My partner was a guy named Sam, and he seemed pretty nice. We both agreed that we probably should have taken Spanish 203 instead. I've found that I'm much more at ease speaking Spanish in a classroom setting because we're all learning and everyone is apt to make mistakes, no matter how proficient they appear to be. All you have to say is "lo siento" and "como se dice...?" and you're good to go.

Since it was an 8:00 class, I was done by nine. I didn't want to go back to the dorm, so I walked around a little and ran into a friend from school, a girl named Caitlin. It was so good to see her because I'd had AP English 4 with her and we got along really well. We had actually talked about rooming together at one point but she was still deciding between Wake Forest and UNC, so I paired up with Danielle instead (which I'm very happy with). But Caitlin is so funny— I think we laughed on the bench for a good half hour before she had to go to a job interview in the library (lucky!). I think it's so interesting because she's a Mormon, and she was asking me if I had found a church yet, and I was like not quite, have you? And she said yes, and that Mormon churches all follow the same exact sermon, every Sunday, all over the world. So if you went to church in Raleigh and then went to, say, Singapore, you would hear the exact message that was being preached at your home church, because they all follow the same "schedule" or whatever you want to call it. Everything is connected, and she already knows people in the church by campus!

After she left, I went and got a cup of coffee (Milky Way mocha) and sat out on the patio near the Pit to listen to music and read for my class, and it was great. I really felt like a college kid, as dorky as that sounds. There was such a nice breeze, and since it was early it wasn't too hot, and there were people walking around talking and laughing and I loved it. I stopped reading and listened absentmindedly to Relient K, just watching and drinking coffee and letting the sun spill over my face. Good thing I decided to wear a dress, or it would have been a little warm.

I got back to the dorm right before Danielle and Delsie. My next classes are back-to-back— Astronomy and Intro to the Hebrew Bible. I'm excited for Astronomy! I just hope it's not all equations; I didn't take a math class this semester on purpose, haha.

"Isn't it nice to know,

That the lining

Is silver?

Isn't it nice to know,

That we're golden?" --Relient K

Romans 4:13-25

"For the promise to Abraham and his offspring that he would be heir of the world did not come through the law but through the righteousness of faith. For if it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. For the law brings wrath, but where there is no law there is no transgression. That is why it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his offspring— not only to the adherent of the law but also to the one who shares the faith of Abraham, who is the father of us all, as it is written, 'I have made you the father of many nations'— in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. In hope he believed against hope, that he should become the father of many nations, as he had been told, 'So shall your offspring be.' He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was as good as dead (since he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah's womb. No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised. That is why his faith was counted to him as righteousness. But the words 'it was counted to him' were not written for his sake alone, but for ours also. It will be counted to us who believe in him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord, who was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification."

—Wherever I go, whatever I do, I wonder where I am in my relationship to you...— John Mayer

Move-In

So being here is officially strange. I think Luke put it best when he said it's like being at camp, waiting for your parents to come pick you up and then realizing they're not going to. Maybe this is only magnified because it's Sunday and usually I've been at church for at least two hours practicing with Thomas or Pastor on the songs we're going to play.

Moving in was definitely not as crazy as I thought it was going to be. We got here around nine, because that was the "appointed time" for me, and there was hardly anyone else unloading. Some girls from a fraternity helped get all of my stuff up to my dorm (which is on the seventh floor) and I went with mom to check in and get my keys. Then we went up stairs and found my room, and I think I just about cried when I opened the door because, no joke, it looks exactly like a prison cell. I think my favorite part was the window with it's beautiful view— it overlooks the staircase. No light comes in at all, so Danielle (my roommate) and I have discovered that it's completely too easy to loose track of time, considering you have no sunlight by which to measure how much actual time has passed at all. I do like my desk— I chose the one built into the wall. It's wood, and with all of my stuff put it in, it reminds me a little bit of home, just because it's the coziest thing to look at. We decided to bunk out beds to give us more room, and the carpet is lain out next to it. Then we have the fridge and microwave in the corner, and Danielle's desk is opposite the beds. Then there's the door, and on the entire left wall is the built in closets, the vanity, and at the end, my desk. The corner next to the fridge is pretty bare, so we're thinking of eventually getting a futon and some miscellaneous things to spruce it up, and it would let people come and spend the night if they wanted.

After Danielle came, my parents left and her parents left, and I helped her unpack the rest of her things. Then a couple people we knew from school showed up, and it was nice to be with them because they're familiar. We socialized for a little while, then they left and we went downstairs to the tech team to get our computers registered so that we could use the internet. When we came back up, our suite mates were knocking on our door to introduce themselves. The way our dorms are set up, we're in a "suite" with three other room and a single bathroom for all eight of us to share. Meeting them was... interesting. They all seem friendly enough, but definitely aren't the sort of people I'd hang out with on a regular basis; this is probably God telling me to either a) get off my high horse, b) find a witnessing opportunity (no Christians, I found out, only a Hindu...), or c) run for the hills.

Danielle had to get her books from the store, so we decided to walk over to the Student Store and get them. We had no idea how to get there from our dorm since we're so far away from everything! As we were leaving our lobby, I saw Jon, who we'd gone on the cruise with. He was with a friend I didn't know. His friend, who goes to Wake Tech, had a car, and Jon offered us a ride over to the store. He was completely lost but trying to play it off. Once we finally got there, he told me to text him if we wanted to meet up with him for a frat party. Frat party? Ha, ha. Me? Mhmm... After we got Danielle's book, we walked back to the dorm and took the long way around campus since we had no idea where to go; we probably walked for a half-hour.

Anyways, after that, we came back to our own room and chilled for a bit, then Nick and Elliot came over and we talked. We went back to their dorm and met up with some of the others, and then decided to try and take the bus to Target, because they had a shuttle running from 10:00-12:30. By the time we got to the stop, the line was backed up almost across the street, and it really wasn't worth the wait. Danielle and I really wanted to find a store, though, because we wanted milk and ice cream and I had forgotten my face-wash at home, so I wasn't in the best of moods. So we though there might be something open on Franklin Street. It was about 11:00 and we walked down there (it is MILES away from where our dorms are) and didn't get back until 12:30-ish. There was no store open, only a couple restaurants and bars, as well as a Ben & Jerry's. I also caught my first glimpse of a hookah bar! Woo! ... Just kidding. There was a random group of musicians on the corner and a girl tapping a tambourine, and it sounded good only the tambourine girl was pretty off beat. I really felt like I was in college at this point.

Finally, we were back to the dorm, I took a shower, and got into bed. I talked to Luke a little, which was wonderful, and then fell asleep, only to wake up in the pitch-black every so often, disoriented.

Oh college life.

Last Night.

Of course I'm going to write a blog on my last night at home. DUH. It's probably going to be emotional and sentimental, too, so I can get it all off my chest and start out college without a giant paper weight (get it? Aha. Ha.) on my conscious.

It was busy today. I visited Krysteah, who is now home from the hospital and is doing pretty well, and then went over to Ashton's work to talk to her for a little while. Then I came home and me and my mom started packing all of my stuff. I've come to the conclusion that parents have no idea what to pack, they only know how to be incredibly irritating. My dad, for example, suggests that I bring everything in my entire room, including old stuffed animals that I haven't hugged in years and pictures of friends who aren't even friends any more. My mom freaks out over the sort of boxes we're using, because dad likes to pull out old storage from the closet that are full of Christmas ornaments to try and "recycle and reuse." Yikes. Needless to say, I kicked them both out and did it all myself. I couldn't stand my dad's sentimental urges and my mother's frantic gaze, both of which were directed at me.

My dad made my favorite dinner (lasagna) and that was good. My brother had gone to the first football game of the season with some of his friends, so it was just me and my parents. I have to say, padre makes a pretty good lasagna, even if all he does is follow the instructions on the back of the noodle box. Then we decided to go to Goodberry's, after a rather long and drawn out discussion, and some personal tears (of course), to end the evening.

I love driving to Goodberry's because we get to take the back roads there through the country, instead of the highway. I would definitely say that God gave me a gorgeous last-night sunset, because the sky was beautiful. It's funny how you notice things when you think it's the last time you're going to see them in a while. Everything takes on this strange sort of glory and beauty and precision, and stands out against it's backdrop like dirt on the snow. Farmhouses seemed romantic and almost cheerful, and the trees looked alive like they could start singing at any moment; the cow pastures were warm and lonely, and even the antiquated gas-station juxtaposed against the rural fields and glowing horizon looked sharp and magnificent. Odd, isn't it, how we suddenly notice things that we've so long taken for granted? It's not just junk, or land, or property— it's a life. It's a way of living that I'm leaving and, in a way, coming back to over and over, but it will never really be mine ever again. That's the thing about college that I don't think my parents understand. Yes, I'll be coming home again, and yes, things will probably be very similar if not exactly the same. But I'll be coming home an adult. An adult who, after college ends, will be going to different cityscapes and countries and villas to find her own way, her own town, her own life. I won't call this home any more. It's strange and exciting and terrifying and wonderful, all wrapped up in this mixed emotion that has no name.

Tonight when I go to bed, my thoughts will be wandering. I'll probably be taking long walks through my childhood, my adolescence, my trials and my joys, and trying to make them connect into who I turned out to be. Who I'm still turning out to be, really. And I know that as college comes and these next four years flash by, I'll be changing even more, turning into someone new all over again. The memories I have are precious, but I don't want them to hinder my future. I want to walk into this newness without burdens, without strings, without fear or pride, and most of all, without control, so that I am forced to cling to the only unchanging thing I know— Jesus. I don't know anything; I am ignorant and not clever, and I have no way of promising anything, of predicting anything, hallelujah. Lord knows the desires of my heart, but as was prophesied over me, I must walk a straight and narrow path until the time is ripe and right. Put me through the maze, then, keep me on a hard road, make my own way unclear to me, if it draws me nearer to You. If it forces me to my knees, if it keeps me perpetually weeping, if it breaks my heart and breaks my will, Father, may it be as You have said, and may I be soft and malleable clay in Your hands. I have no other hope than the hope I have in You.

So yeah, tomorrow I move into dorm 074-b at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, at 9:00 a.m., and begin my adventure. In the words of someone famous who's name I don't remember— "Good night, and good luck."

I want you not to go.

And then, in that moment, I knew I was in way over my head. There was no rope left to pull myself back out because I had cut it, too high for me to grab and too low to no longer be tantalizing. The waves came up and threatened to crash over me, and all I had was a small-yet-sturdy vessel called hope to rely on. He had beckoned me in, gave me the choice, and I took it hard.

There are a precious few moments that I can recall in a lifetime and know that they were God-directed. Of course, they all are, but these stick out pointedly, prominently, promisingly.

I wish I could say that in this moment I am perfectly okay with the changes going on around me. I wish I could say that I'm not even the slightest bit anxious, or that I'm good at transitioning and letting life change. But those would be lies, and since I don't want to be a liar, I can't truthfully say any of them. I move into Carolina on Saturday. Luke and the guys and Amanda are moving into UNCG today. I have this funny sort of bittersweet ache in my chest; it's like I want to be sad, but at the same time, there's an excitement and an acceptance. Part of me is nostalgic and wants to pull back into being a child, but the other part is ready and willing life to begin this next phase, which everyone tells me consists of the best years of your life. Father, teach me to let go. Teach me to open up my hands and let you have your way in me. It's impossible not to think about the past but it doesn't have to hurt. You are in complete control, and I need to trust you. Help me to trust you more.

Bye bye, Birdie (I"ll Fly Away)

[But our wings have now grown in

And it's time to toughen our skin

So free me

Because I'm freeing you.]

Bye bye, birdie,

fly away home,

look in the mirror and

see how you've grown,

there's no place like gravity

so out you must go,

out from the shadows

to the sunshine below,

out from the thoughts

that have made you a child,

out from the passions that

made you run wild,

there's no space for trembling

and you're not alone,

so bye bye, birdie,

fly away home.

bye bye, birdie,

fly away home.

there's place for the faces

of all you have known,

don't eat the seeds

of the gardens you've sown,

when you're not in the music

just pick up the phone,

for they'll sing to you over

and over again,

though when you can come

back no one knows when,

while over the meadows

and green fields you roam,

singing bye bye, birdie,

fly away home.

bye bye, birdie,

come back home,

it's been a long time

and we're changing the tone

of the ringing and singing

that was calling you out,

you'll come back to banners

while we cry and shout

of your newfound priorities

responsibilities and such

we know that you're young

and this seems a bit much

but we promise, the takeoff

is easier than pie,

so spread out your wings now

and go touch the sky,

remember you're welcome

in this place that you've known,

so bye bye, birdie,

and come back home.

O.C. (4) Again, a great word...

This Experience Must Come

Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. And Elisha . . . saw him no more —2 Kings 2:11-12

It is not wrong for you to depend on your "Elijah" for as long as God gives him to you. But remember that the time will come when he must leave and will no longer be your guide and your leader, because God does not intend for him to stay. Even the thought of that causes you to say, "I cannot continue without my ’Elijah.’ " Yet God says you must continue.

Alone at Your "Jordan" ( Kings 2:14 ). The Jordan River represents the type of separation where you have no fellowship with anyone else, and where no one else can take your responsibility from you. You now have to put to the test what you learned when you were with your "Elijah." You have been to the Jordan over and over again with Elijah, but now you are facing it alone. There is no use in saying that you cannot go— the experience is here, and you must go. If you truly want to know whether or not God is the God your faith believes Him to be, then go through your "Jordan" alone.

Alone at Your "Jericho" ( 2 Kings 2:15 ). Jericho represents the place where you have seen your "Elijah" do great things. Yet when you come alone to your "Jericho," you have a strong reluctance to take the initiative and trust in God, wanting, instead, for someone else to take it for you. But if you remain true to what you learned while with your "Elijah," you will receive a sign, as Elisha did, that God is with you.

Alone at Your "Bethel" ( 2 Kings 2:23 ). At your "Bethel" you will find yourself at your wits’ end but at the beginning of God’s wisdom. When you come to your wits’ end and feel inclined to panic— don’t! Stand true to God and He will bring out His truth in a way that will make your life an expression of worship. Put into practice what you learned while with your "Elijah"— use his mantle and pray (see 2 Kings 2:13-14 ). Make a determination to trust in God, and do not even look for Elijah anymore.

Weeds, Rain, and Time Capsules

Yeah, it's a bit strange of a title. But this will be a bit strange of a blog.

The other day my dad had a list of chores waiting for me when I woke up. Before I even saw the list or went downstairs, I finally took the time to pray and talk to God. I had no time limit and no where to be (which was lovely), so we talked. I asked Him to show me a new thing in myself. It was so wonderful that I could have cried.

The first thing my dad asked me to do was pull weeds out of the mulch beds in front of our house. This is a new chore for me; usually I'm working inside. So I went out thinking the sooner I got it done, the better, and it would be less hot earlier in the morning than at mid-afternoon. You know what? I learned a LOT of lessons pulling out those stupid weeds. The kind that reside in my front yard have long, long tentacles that spread out in every direction, and it's so hard to find the true root; I must have wasted so much time pulling at the individual tendrils, which only broke off in my hand, before I found where it started and got the whole thing out. Lesson number 1: there may be many things in my life that are spreading out and clinging to everything, strangling the good, but I can't nit-pick at each annoyance. I need to find the root cause, and that will clear up all of the little sins and mistakes that aren't the true problem. Another thing about weeds is that they grow thickest near the bases of trees (at least in my front yard). I figured it was because the trees take the most nutrients, so if the weeds grow there they can feed off of the nutrients near the tree and good soil. Lesson 2: weeds in my life tend to "grow up" around all of my big dreams and aspirations. The things that God has for my life are the things that are targeted by weeds, because I give them the most energy and effort. Satan plants them there to drain my spirit before I can even get to the "tree." Finally, whenever I would get down on my hands and knees to really get these stupid things up, the gnats would attack. I have a new-found hatred for gnats. They only really got to me when I was pulling up a weed with a vengeance. Lesson 3: When I begin to weed my life, and get rid of all of the sins and temptations growing there, there will be gnats that get in my way, to try and frustrate me away from weeding and letting the stupid things continue to grow. They may be other friends, a busy schedule, or whatever; all gnats that keep me from weeding out my life.

I was SO glad my dad asked me to do this, or I wouldn't have had such an introspective time of soul searching.

On a completely different subject, there is something completely breathtaking about sharing the rain with someone. "Caught in a moment out in the rain, tell me there's something we can say..." Oh Mat Kearney! You somehow know exactly what to say for me. We dance, we laugh, we tell stories and look at the future. There are deep conversations and silent words and plain old talking and the best place for all of the above is on the trunk of my car, with a cool breeze sweeping itself up and over us, beneath the golden glow from a street lamp. We can pick out the contrasting whites, blues, and grays of an overcast sky that sometimes lets a galleon moon wink through, and listen to crickets and thunder rumbling, and pay some small attention to the lightening. I can recite bits of poetry and you can tell me about childhood card games. We're nerds. I'll wave my arms at the sky and tell you it looks like it could snow, and you can look at me like I'm crazy and pretend you're in the past. And then, it rains. It washes away the words and the barriers and leaves us clean and free and raw. Big, fat drops that splash on our faces and soak us immediately, while we dance to no music and it doesn't even matter. You hum something random and I laugh. My forehead is cold and wet and my hair is a mess, but you push my bangs aside and leave a warm, warm mark above my temple and next to the freckle by my hairline. The rain is good and the thunder is low and the lightening illuminates everything we want to see, that which is right before our eyes. Thank you.

Sometimes, I want to take time as a linear entity and roll it up until it's wrapped tight around my finger and I can string it out however I want and whenever I want. There are moments in my life where, as they instantly happen, I think to myself, this has always been happening. This moment has been occurring over and over again until I got far enough down time's line to experience it, but it's always been here, waiting for me. There are moments in my future that are happening right now, waiting to get to me, or really, waiting for me to get to them. Because time in happening in a straight line, like a ladder. Just because you haven't got to the 10th rung yet doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It does exist; you just haven't gotten there. You follow? Sometimes I want to take the things I experience in a few precious minutes and save them, like diamonds, in my heart; maybe I'll turn them into bracelets or necklaces or rings, or maybe I'll twist them into tears or smiles or music notes, which can be replayed over and over again. My own personal time capsule. My future is already mapped out like a constellation; people always think of their life like a series of choices, and one choice leads to many other things, like those books you can read where you pick the ending depending on what page you decide to flip to. But I don't think it's like that. You're choices have already been made, and even though there are billions of stars all over the sky, there's a constellation that's already been connected and decided, and that's your path. You can't know the next star you're connected to, the next moment that's going to take you farther along time's line, but it's already there.

I feel like my head is exploding. Enough. What's there is there, and what's here is here. There's nothing to fear, no room for doubt, no "time" to decide. Let's just do it and do it right. Mm.

Hook, Line, and Sinker

We ladies are strange creatures, I'll admit. We have odd tendencies, unpredictable emotions, and downright confusing trains of thought. We cry at sad movies or sappy stories; we laugh at random things that usually aren't even funny; we act mad when we're striving for attention. What's more, we thrive on unpredictability. There is nothing better, for us, than doing something out of the ordinary or unexpected— we want to be seen as unique, clever, capable, mysterious. Anything but normal.

Okay, maybe this is just me. But I sort of doubt it.

Girls speak, in my opinion, through body language. For us, communication through our actions is essential and, though we find the intentions to be painfully obvious, easily misinterpreted. Guys, I've noticed, say things. Guys talk. And while those two statements are stupidly plainspoken, it's true. Girls want to be read and "figured out." We say, oh, well, if they can't tell what my silence/crossed arms/wide-eyed look/whatever means, they must not be paying enough attention... why aren't they paying attention? why don't they get it? why don't they try harder to understand? Ah! ... oh brother. Not to rag on my own sex, but we make it extremely difficult to be understood. We blame guys for being shallow and ignorant, but sometimes I think we ask impossible things of them. They are not mind readers. Yeah, something they should pay much more attention and yeah, they can be incredibly naive. They cross those invisible lines and we roll our eyes. But is it really so bad? Probably not.

I used to think it was horrible, the way that society lead every little girl to look for a specific brand of "prince charming." You know, the whole tall-dark-and-handsome thing; the prince that comes riding in on a white stallion to rescue the beautiful lady in distress, and he sweeps her off her feet and kisses her passionately and slings her behind him on his steed, and off they ride to who knows where. But at the same time, it really wasn't Hollywood that invented this mental image, this paradigm of the perfect (nonexistent) man. It was us. Well, in a roundabout way it was us. It was really God, and then we allowed it to be twisted.

I can only speak from my own experience, and while I would love to say I can speak for all females, I can't. That would be ignorant and rude. The following is my own opinion. What I want, more than anything, is to be lead and protected. It's instinctual. God created that and put that in me, and truly, only He is "man enough" to fulfill that desire. I know this. But He also created man and woman to be together, and there is a physical need for that protection and leadership. Don't get me wrong, all of the other things are incredibly nice. Being romanced is wonderful and joking around makes for a great time. However, want I want in a man is authority and confidence. Women in general, I think, are naturally attracted to men of authority. No matter how independent or smart a woman is, I don't think she always wants to be in control of a relationship. That's not how God intended it— Adam did come first. (It's not like I'm anti-feminism or anything crazy like that; I'm for women's rights or whatever, I don't really care.) The man needs to be sure. Sure in his Faith, firstly, and then sure in his own self, sure of what he wants, sure of what he's capable of. My questions are, can you protect me, would you be willing to fight for me, would you be willing to stand for something or anything, are you determined, can you carry the burden, are you able to take the support I'm so willing to give you? [As a side-note, the "you" in this is for a general audience.] I want to be loved. God is my first and ultimate Love, He is my rock and my foundation. I know that when my heart is broken, He still loves me, hallelujah. But to be loved for who I am, without makeup, without a smile sometimes, crying or laughing, happy or angry, hopeful or doubtful, pretty or ugly... to be loved for me, Kristina Lorraine Weeks... that's what I want.

I'm a passionate person, I can't help it. Grab my hand and make me follow. Talk like you know what you're doing. Say you have a plan or say you don't have a plan— I don't really care, so long as you're in action, in motion, and I'm there. Pick me up off of the floor when I'm out of breath and carry me to rest when I'm exhausted. Because of all the crazy things we are, women know how to love. I'll respect you, I'll support you, I'll care for you and try to help you achieve whatever you're striving for. "I" being women in general. I think it's so funny how God made us... He has a sense of humor, He does.

This was sort of random. But it felt good to follow the thoughts.

Inevitable.

Today is August 1st.

I've never had a day hit me so hard before. I used to love the beginning of August, because it was familiar. My birthday is this month. Normally, a familiar school year would be around the corner, filled with faces I've known for years and teachers who half-care and already recognize me. I would have it under control, ready to go, with no unsettling bumps or twists. But this year, of course, is different.

August 1st, 2009, is the epitome of change and chance. I move away from my home and, in a less literal sense, myself, in 22 days. A new chapter in my life opens— the overriding question is, am I ready? And perhaps more looming, does it matter whether I'm ready or not? Stepping away from childhood has always seemed so appealing. I've always been "mature" and "outgoing" and "ready." My dad tells me how I could have been held back a year before starting kindergarten because my birthday is so late in the summer, but how they knew that I had this whole ready-concept going on, and they put me in as the youngest kid in the class. And apparently I flourished from there. But this is a much bigger pond I'm swimming in now. It's not really a pond at all; it's more like an ocean, and I'm afraid of getting swallowed whole.

Sometimes I think I'm afraid to leave because I'll be away from those I love the most. My family, my friends, my church, my boyfriend, even my dog... none of them too close, and yet, none of them too far (excluding Amanda Boyle— Texas!). Sometimes I think I'm afraid to leave because I think I'll fail, whether socially, academically, or spiritually. Do I know how to organize and maintain each? Sometimes I think I'm afraid to leave because I fear conformity. I don't want to be one of the crowd, but how to walk with a new step when there are literally thousands of "me" walking in the same direction? Yet I know that even with all of these reasonings and possibilities to define my fear, none of them are the root. The real reason I am afraid is because I don't know what's going to happen. I don't have control over my future. I can't see past August 22nd, and therefore, I dread it. I really, really do.

That's not to say I'm already hating the thought of college life. I know it will be good, and I'm pretty positive that I'll love it once the ball gets rolling. Well, I'm roughly about 92.3% positive. And that's the majority, right? I just have to get over the initial shock. It's like swimming in a cold pool on a blisteringly hot summer day. If you slide yourself in little by little and let the icy water climb higher and high, you're going to lose your resolve and back out, because it's just so cold. The best thing to do is get on the high dive, take a couple good bounces, and then jump without a second thought. That way there's no going back. I guess, then, that I'm just looking for the courage to climb up the ladder to where the diving board is waiting for me, and ultimately, the water is waiting to embrace me. Unless, of course, it rejects me and I land flat on my face (belly-flop style) on a surface of ice... but on hot summer days that doesn't seem to happen very often.

"Do you remember when we were just kids

And cardboard boxes took us miles from what we would miss?

Schoolyard conversations taken to heart,

And laughter too the place of everything we knew we were now.

I want to break every clock,

The hands of time would never move again,

We could stay in this moment

For the rest of our lives.

Is it over now, hey, is it over now?"

--Inevitable, Anberlin