Series of Ramblings about my day and otherness

it's six minutes to midnight.  i'm smelling the burnt smell of cookie batter that fell into the oven, and listening to Celtic Woman's Caledonia - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v28is4jFWeo.
the chocolate chunk cookies are looking deliciously crunchy and chewy and chocolatey and all those things that they ought to be, cooling on the bench while I type.
the dishes are waiting on the bench.  no-one did them.  there haven't been enough people around to do them, since a couple of my brothers left - one to go flatting, and another to rather suddenly elope with and marry a beautiful girl over in the States (read the story here).

Finished my last exam today.  I was scared of it, anxious for a couple of days, which was all the time I'd given myself to study.   Studied with a fellow student, Grace, and talked about being a christian, and churches.  Maybe she'll come along to Campus Church, like I asked her too?  ...this morning I got up at around 6:30, with great intentions to stay awake and study for an hour before walking (40 mins) to uni and studying 'til 2:30, which was when the darn exam was.  but I kinda have a way of sleeping in between trying to read my Bible, and falling asleep and waking up and falling asleep after my alarm wakes me.  and  it's all not very disciplined, though it is the most delicious, luxuriant feeling to sleep past the alarm in the mornings.

So I studied at uni, finally.  And worried, and bit my fingernails.  ...boyfriend alex has told me times without number to stop biting my nails.  I have a feeling he doesn't care much what my nails look like, but he knows that deep, deep down I care.  So he's just the lovingest and always tells me reprovingly to stop, and to promise him to stop!  but I can never promise truthfully, because I know that when the temptation comes... or when I get nervous about an exam or essay... good intentions will melt and nail-ends will become ragged.

For all that worry and so-short nails, the exam was good.  It was stimulating.  It was about the 60s, and the Civil Rights Movement, and Feminism, and Gay Rights and Abortion.  and I was happy and productive, filling ten sheets of paper carefully, hurting my fingers and wrist with the pressure.  Thankfully I had three hours in which to write answers to two questions, so a happy amount of time.  Because these questions were my questions and I felt them and believed what I wrote.  and that felt very good.  our souls get tired and strained when they feel out of place and unneeded at university.  we analyze and remember and structure but we get tired, tired.  because there is more to life, but exams and tests and essays trick us for moments into believing otherwise.

Because you will be happy if you make them, I wanted to share this excellent recipe that I found while searching for a chocolate chunk cookie recipe.  They were the first I found and they are good.

2 cups flour
pinch of salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
170g butter melted and allowed to cool a little
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 large egg & 1 egg yolk
2 tsp vanilla essence
1 1/2 cups dark and white chocolate chunks/whatever you happen to have around

Do the normal thing.  Preheat the oven to 165C.  Sift the flour & soda.  Beat the sugar into the butter & mix in the eggs & vanilla.  Then mix the flour into the wet & add the chocolate.  Remember to add the extra half cup of chocolate:  I didn't, and now I have half a cup of chopped dark chocolate sitting on the bench.  The mixture will be kinda cakey-wet, so leave it for like 2-5 mins until it forms up.  Then form it into balls & stick 'em on a greased tray.  Bake them for 15-20 mins, whatever floats your boat.

Eat them with blue milk and be quite happy.  Share them around with your family/friends and be happier still.

New happiness

Many new and exciting things have happened since I last wrote.

Several months ago I started to like clothes.  I never had particularly cared about them before.
And shoes!
As a result, my wardrobe is full of 'thrifted' or bargain clothing - dresses and tops and jeans, a dizzying number of belts, and shoes.  They are all arrayed as they never had been before.  Clothing that had never been loved and never would be was unmercifully separated from cherished pieces and pushed into big boxes.  Necklaces and belts now dangle spectacularly over the shoes arrayed on the top of a new dresser in my wardrobe (thanks Esther for the upgrade!).
I generally leave one half of the wardrobe open so that I can glance over at the prettiness and feel happy.

I suppose this is all rather strange goings on; it's exciting for me because it's all so new.  Clothes are so new, and exciting!  Going to opshops has become a heart-thumping adventure, that can be so thrilling (carrying home a truly satisfying piece) or tragic (if the store is shut before I get there).

There are so many things that one could wear!

Something I've noted about all this happy clothes-hunting:  It would be so very easy to let clothes take over my heart's affections, to put it in a Victorian-esque way.  To turn into someone who cares for friends and clothes and nothing else.  (Scary thought indeed).  Jesus needs to be most loved - a constant process of loving him first - and then I can love whatever else I will.  And those loves will be clothes family, and lesser important things like clothes.

Here are some beautiful sites I've come across:

Ruche: http://shopruche.com/
A Beautiful Mess: http://abeautifulmess.typepad.com/
Saturated Canary: http://saturatedcanary.blogspot.com/p/fashion-pinup.html
etc. etc. etc.

...when I'm meant to be studying (or sleeping, as in now).

And what all this means is that I want to start sewing.  And I want to do exciting, crazy things; more exciting and more crazy than usual.  And I want to be 'myself' - a cliched phrase because it's so awfully true.
And.. there's so much more I could say, but I should sleep.  Soon I will be finished Uni, and I'll be able to write on here more I hope. :)

'Connecting' Assignment

Hello everyone!

I thought I'd share with you a piece of writing I did today. This was actually uni work - an assignment for CHCH101, the new course offered at Canterbury University which teaches students about service in their community. For our assignment we're allowed to use whatever format we like to convey ideas - I chose prose/poetry this time. The question was...

How can service and learning be connected?

There is a man, old in his mind and frail in his body
Crosses his legs when he sits, and reads
You can find him hidden, corners, dust
In a room full of voices he cannot speak
Few sit next to that man, preferring laughter
Sometimes he’s visible
But sometimes he has never existed
Youth cannot long tolerate age

There is a young man, bones, bones
Thin, long hair unwashed
His person and his soul uncared for
I’ve seen him
Corridors, and once in the café
Then hidden in a room full of enthusiasm
Of arrogance, trivialities, laughter
“Yeah I’m pretty happy, getting an A for Bio”
He is not seen
A moth in the daytime
I wanted to cheer him; encourage him
But how?
He must have pride; I must not show that I pity him

There is a woman
Tiny, dwarfed, deformed
Imprisoned in her wheelchair
Yet her eyes are full of light
She smiles, and others smile with her
Can it be possible that she is happy?

Sometimes we are faced with disasters
This city of cards, knocked over
Our pride, the gladness of our heritage
Only bricks, no structure
A terrible cry, the death of the helpless
But now I think
Through this disaster
We have seen our need
For food and clothes, a dry place – yes
But too long we have not felt
Our ache; we have not seen
The struggle of the invisible
Who have faced the shattering of our city
But whose lives are a long-term disaster
Whose difficulty could be eased
If they were recognised
If they were cared for

I is tired, but I is alive.

I'm tired.

Seems like everything that this world consists of is tension: relentless deadlines; stress that I'm not getting work in on time; late nights drifting cloudily into early mornings; a nagging feeling that God is being left behind, that I'm just using Him and not relating - help me with this essay God, please help me; next year and what shall I do? A job; I must work; household quarrels, pain is never old; my body muttering and complaining: too much sugar, not enough exercise, too much gluten; has my writing finished? will I ever be able to pick it up again?; worried that I am losing my youngest brother, am not spending the time I want to spend with him and he is getting so old!; drawing, how it absorbed me before university and now no pursuit is alive - what I thought was my identity, gone and now i'm smart, such an intelligent university student, am I what I wanted to be?; everything, everything too cliche; listening to people - wishing there was more time to be tired.

But there is newness.

A new bible - blue, wreathed, ESV - a 'good christian girl's bible', so beautiful, perhaps I will learn to love it, though never as much as I did the falling-apart, cheap black one I used so long; flowers, birthday brightness and a red rose; an unexpected A+, the uncertain but glad knowledge that God is love and all is purposed; magical, evil light on waves at New Brighton Pier; the realization that really, the earth from the vantage point of a plane makes so much more sense; a new handbag with convenient pockets.

duel

a wall and bookshelf give minimal protection from frustration and self-love.
The muted voices continue on. A female voice penetrates at intervals, interested more in expressing than in aiding. Strange that, though the tones convey nothing new, they seem always to have the power to stifle, eroding peace and the semblance of tranquility.

there is nothing more to be said. One finds that he has said all, the other that words are lacking. Inevitably, the door slams; glass ringing, the sound heard down the corridor, throughout the building. Minutes later, footsteps approach the room; the antagonist realized he had not finished with complaints or vocabulary.

Apologies Are in Order

It has been a long while since I last wrote.
My apologies. To those of you who perhaps came back a couple of times to check if I'd written anything - and then realised I hadn't and gave up on me: I'm sorry.

To FR, in particular, I'm sorry. It must be hard to be a Faithful Reader if the writer isn't faithful. I'll work on being semi-regular.

Till next time!

- Lydie

wish

what I know and desire
exists if I allow it to breathe
but to strangle myself
end the life I wish for
to do this I must first convince myself
it is for the best, the greater good
and my hands
could have the power
wrestle with
the force of these feelings
victory

I keep thinking it is possible
and still believe it is

and tonight
emotion I thought had little life
wrenched tears from these eyes
surprised me
I, wiping away salt

determined, aching