much love: summer 08

    My sister means more to me than any person in the world, and I am so honored that she would choose to come and live with me for the summer. Every day is a celebration of the life transformation we have seen each other through, and I'm incredibly fortunate to call her family.

it's a trend...

People always try to claim that they aren't trendy. The thing is, it's trendy "not to be trendy." It's kind of like the people who try to convince you that they "aren't addicted" to smoking and that they could quit anytime...the more they attempt to defend themselves, the less likely you are to believe them. I once was a person that claimed not to like "trendy" things, until I realized I was being trendy in the process...which then just made me lame. So now, I embrace my trendiness.

The radio is a great way to learn what's trendy. It's trendy to talk about how high the gas prices are. And it's beneficial to know what's trendy to talk about, just in case you get stuck with nothing to say in a conversation. Because noise is trendier than silence in our society, you'll be better off talking about the trendy topic compared to the awkwardness of talking about nothing.

Listening to the radio is trendy too. And I hate it (the radio, not the fact that listening to it is trendy), but still I listen to it. Since I only live exactly 2.1 miles away from where I work, I rarely ever take the time to listen to my ipod or a CD. I'm not complaining--with the price of gas the way it is (here I go being trendy...), I consider myself fortunate to save money on the commute to work. Maybe I should buy a bike...then I would fit in with all those trendy environmentalist that talk about how "green is the new black"...someone should inform them that this is a rather trendy phrase.

Remember when listening to the radio was cool? One day in 6th grade, I arrived at school in the morning, and everyone was talking about how the local radio station was off the air the night before like it was the most monumental event in the history of the world. Up until this point in my life, I had never really dedicated much time to listening to the radio (except when my dad would listen to the oldies station in the car); but after "the day in which I had nothing to add to the conversation about WBNQ's radio blackout", you can bet I listened to the radio every day for the rest of my junior high career. I even called in to request songs.

But in your 20s, people start claiming that they never listen to the radio. Which is probably a trendy claim to make. It confuses me though, especially when I go to sporting events and a song like "Hot in Herre" (made popular in the summer of 2002 by Nelly) comes on, and everyone knows the words. Now I know they don't own the CD (or maybe they do...which is a whole other issue). How are they singing along? I think more people listen to the radio than they like to admit.

But just remember...I don't like watching Oprah and I don't own any clothes from Abercrombie & Fitch and I don't use any instant messaging programs and I don't drink Starbucks coffee. but i may occasionally write with no capitals and excessively use ellipses...and have a guitar...sitting in the corner...of my room...even though i rarely play it...

"the beginning" i suppose

My over-analytical nature doesn't allow me to write anything quickly. It takes me forever to construct even a single sentence. If you were to see how many times I deleted and rewrote the previous 2 sentences, you'd probably go crazy. And in between this sentence and the last, there was about a five minute window where I got distracted by some statistics on Randy Johnson's career number of strikeouts...

I am a writer. My thoughts appear in my mind like words on a page. I love telling stories. I find it easy to talk about myself. They say that writers are quite possibly the most narcissistic people in the world. I've never claimed to be an example of great humility, so that may occasionally be true of myself. 

But my writing doesn't usually come out of a self-love. Rather, it's a reminder of my humility. When I kept a blog in high school and college, I would occasionally go back and read my earlier posts. And it was like looking at an old photograph album. I couldn't believe how young I sounded...how much I thought I had the world figured out, when in reality I had very little discovered. It was always tempting to delete these posts and start fresh. I didn't find it very enjoyable to have my imperfection displayed for everyone to go back and read. 

There's something beautiful about a person who is fully aware of their imperfection. Perhaps this is because imperfection is real. We see it everywhere--in our family, in our church, in our world. And somehow, we always react as though we are surprised by it. We're always talking about people's mistakes as though it is shocking news. "Do you know what he did?" "Can you believe what she said?" To assume that worldly things will be perfect is believing a lie...and psychologically speaking, that defines you as insane.

I want to be a person that knows that imperfection is reality, both in myself and those that I am called to serve. Because when I realize my own imperfection, I recognize my desperate need for a love that transcends our humanity and a grace that is given to us despite the fact we rarely have things figured out like we think we do.

your sister,

Amy