So Megan waits, Megan waits, Megan waits...

I’ve been listening to a lot of Ben Folds. He’s pretty much amazing. I tried to get concert tickets for next month when he’ll be in Indy, but the show was sold out. :( I cried.

I’m definitely in a holding pattern right now. There are many big decisions on my horizon, but none of them present themselves immediately. I’m just watching and waiting for the flag to drop, for the shot to fire, so I can be off the blocks and running. But I’m no track star. Heck, I’m not even on the sidelines.

At yesterday’s conference, Matt Connor spoke about God’s Will saying he thinks Satan loves nothing more than when we sit around on our butts waiting for a sign from God, fretting about our purpose.

Just go!

But where?

Wherever you want.

But what do I want?

Ooo… That’s a toughie.

And then there’s last Wednesday when Beth Moore told my Bible study group (via DVD) that waiting is NOT idle time. That’s what patience is all about. So maybe I’m growing right now. I don’t know, but it hurts.

The calloused woman-of-the-world inside of me says, “Good. Use that to your advantage. Whatever does not kill you makes you stronger. And, by the way, you look damn good in a power suit.”

“Kill your desire to be loved/important/remembered/enjoyed,” she says. “It’ll just bring you heartache. Women today have more choices than that.”

I wish she was right. The truth is I looked for validation there once and what I got was a pretty convincing counterfeit, but a counterfeit nonetheless.

A couple weeks ago, I was crying to Margaret. The good Gestaltist inside was saying that my turmoil was my fault for building expectations. Margaret wisely informed me that part of trusting is expecting something. If trust is an essential aspect of relationship then we cannot survive by eliminating expectation. Take that, Fritz Perls.

The ache is still there, but I acknowledge it, I feel it. And I will until it goes away.

"I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine"

I went to MAC's Mission Conference today at Ball State. It was deeply enriching and spiritually challenging. The key note speaker was amazing. He talked about Joshua and how God required the people of Israel to take the first step of faith BEFORE He came through for them. This first step was scary and risky, but ultimately rewarding.

I ate free Chinese food. With chopsticks. :)

I also went to breakout sessions on church planting in Ireland, discerning God's Will, and reaching closed-access countries through tentmaking platforms. All were incredibly thought-provoking and inspiring.

I'm not quite sure how to apply all this new information. It will take me at least a few days to process. Until then, I'll have a lot to chew on.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

My Art as Experience professor looks like Scarlett Johansson. That doesn't mean I have to like her. Right now we're "studying" film, which is interesting to me now that I've taken Digital Video. Anyway, for class we had to pick a film from a list of approved titles on which to write a critical paper. Jenny and I chose Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb because it is one of my brother's favorites. I informed Nate of my recent cinematic achievement, to which he replied, "I guess you know who's behind the flouridation of water now..."

Stanley Kubrick’s critically acclaimed cold war comedy describes the frivolous efforts of the United States’ top bureaucrats to keep the world from ending. When insane Air Force Colonial Jack D. Ripper deploys an airborne B-52 to drop an atomic bomb on the Soviet Union, the race is on to stop that plane. Unfortunately, Ripper invoked a protocol to keep this aircraft from being recalled by any radio frequency besides the one for which only he knows the prefix (and he’s not telling). As time runs out, the Soviet ambassador informs the U.S. president and his advisers that any attack on the U.S.S.R. will trigger their Doomsday Machine and usher forth the end of all human, plant and animal life on earth.

Dr. Strangelove opened 1964 to an America that had gotten accustomed to living on the brink of nuclear war. When seen in the context of its release date, this is a very important film because it confronts conspiracy theory and government mismanagement in addition to the idiocy of war. Through his deft use of satire, Kubrick presents war as the most absurd of notions. He portrays War-Room antics with pure lunacy as generals banter across the table and world leaders small-talk over the phone. The film explores the wages of war, of mishandled government policy, and of fear. It describes how our own human fallenness, rather than surging technology, will be our eventual downfall.

The film employs black and white cinematography which emphasizes the archaic nature of the themes presented. War is not progression; it is regression. The lighting in the War-Room is especially effective at conveying the ominous decisions being made. Stark contrasts between light and dark accentuate mortality which is juxtaposed against the fluffy nature of the counselors’ dialogue for added irony. In all of the scenes at the Air Force Base, banners and posters read, “Peace is our Profession,” even as different U.S. military branches open machine-gun fire on one another. This sardonic motif further solidifies the two-faced nature with which the military operates.

I’d recommend Dr. Strangelove to any student of humanity or history. My laughter throughout the movie encouraged me to think more deeply about the issues being portrayed. Although this is satire, man’s depravity is valid. In a world ruled by fear (where not even drinking water is safe), anything can happen. This is true in my own life as well. How often have I based my own decisions on faulty theories and bogus assumptions? When I make perceptual mistakes, nuclear holocaust might not hang in the balance, but then again, maybe one day it will.

Happy birthday, Nanna!

This is an 88th birthday shout out to Benny's grandma, Nanna, who probably doesn't even read my blog. Still, 88 deserves something special. Aren't there 88 keys on a piano? And 88 teeth in a dolphin's mouth (yeah, Dolphin Quest)? Yes, this is huge.

Also, Nanna is the most amazing woman ever to roam the earth. I've enjoyed many a chat with her at concerts and holiday gatherings. I adore her.

Over Thanksgiving Break Polk and I went to chill with Nanna at her apartment. Lindsay Lohan was on Jay Leno and Nanna was talking about Lindsay's crazy dress. Good times.

I remember I attended her 84th birthday bash. It's hard to believe that was four years ago. That was also the day I received an orange orangutan to heal a broken heart. It must have worked. :)

I've got a river of life flowin' out of me

Today’s moment of irony: Someone decided it’d be beneficial to the campus ethos to affix random scripture verses to the insides of bathroom stall doors in Reade. I just encountered one that cited John 7:37-38, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him." Hmmm… kind of takes on a different connotation whilst urinating.

"This is it. Don't get scared now."

Kevin McAllister is my hero. Let’s just put that out there right now.

This is bound to be one of those eclectic posts. I even have a photo!



Check it out, these are the books I shall read for my senior paper. These are just the sources I checked out today. I have more coming from InterLibrary Loan. Get PUMPED!!!

Don’t ask me what my senior paper topic is. I keep forgetting. Oh wait, maybe I remember. Something about biological sex and gender roles and the rhetoric of silence in the feminist movement… I told myself I’d construct a methodology today. I at least chose one… the sociological approach. If that means nothing to you, consider yourself blessed.

And now I shall continue to put off the inevitable and do no more work on my paper until two days before my books are due back to the library.

Whatever happened to Lucy Woodward? She and I might be the same person. I’m listening to “Standing.”

[Two weeks] under my belt and
I'm staring at the ceiling once again.
Your closure is just ripping me wide open.
And I wanna scream but I know it won't bring you back to me.
So your independence wins.
I hope you're finding out what the hell that is.

It's dinner time and I have friends to meet and movies to watch. Perhaps Dr. Strangelove? Only time will tell.

"I can't see the sun for the daylight"

Tonight I experienced worship at Taylor like never before. This weekend we’re having a 48-hours of prayer marathon in the prayer chapel. Allegedly this is part of a campus craze that’s sweeping the nation. Last weekend it was Calvin, this weekend it’s Taylor.

Anyway, after attending some friends’ senior art shows (which were AMAZING btw), Alison, Margaret and I headed over to the prayer chapel where roughly twenty TU students were already gathered singing and praying and generally worshipping God. I’m usually pretty cynical about things like this, but upon entering I was struck by the sincerity and genuineness of the offering. As I sat down and joined in the song, I felt deeply moved in my very spirit. I was indeed occupying holy ground.

I’m a firm believer in honesty in all forms of communication, even prayer and worship. It seems, however, that this is an area in which I am quite apt to lie. I sang, “I will not forget You, You are my God, my King…” and then I realized that’s not even remotely true. I forget God all the time! It’s sad, I know, but it’s true.

So I stopped singing along, but even so I felt the words to a very different worship song rise up in me. This is the song that I sang within my soul:

If you put your arms around me, could it change the way I feel?
I guess I let myself believe that the outside might just bleed its way in.
Maybe stir the sleeping past lying under glass,
Waiting for the kiss that breaks this awful spell.
Pull me out of this lonely cell.

Close my eyes and hold my heart.
Cover me and make me something.
Change this something normal into something beautiful.

What I get from my reflection isn't what I thought I'd see.
Give me reason to believe you'd never keep me incomplete.
Will you untie this loss of mine, it easily defines me.
Do you see it on my face?
That all I can think about is how long I've been waiting to feel you move me?

Close my eyes and hold my heart.
Cover me and make me something.
Change this something normal into something beautiful...

And I'm still fighting for the world to break these chains.
And I still pray when I look in your eyes
You stare right back down into something beautiful.

--Jars of Clay, “Something Beautiful”

Amid my inadequacies, God is gracious. That, my friends, is the message of the Cross.