Wide-Eyed Reflections

I Tried To Be Like Grace Kelly...

2008-07-18T08:20:00.000-07:00

and I guess it worked. :)

The Spill Canvas [In My Brain]

2008-07-02T07:11:00.000-07:00

I promise that soon I'll write something in here that's cohesive and brilliant (maybe even logical). For now, here's my vomit-draft (to quote my high school English teacher) on college thus far...

This year I learned that:

I’m so overwhelmed with thoughts that I don’t know how to articulate them anymore.
I like ice cream a lot. I could be much farther in my spiritual walk than I am—I’m just afraid of what God might call me to. Texting is a lame substitute for talking in person. I’m completely freaked out by people my age (or younger) getting married. Macbooks and spilled tea are an awful combination. I can’t live life always submitting the first draft. Naps aren’t just for old people anymore. I’m not as smart, clever, or awesome as I think I am. John Calvin, Thomas Hobbes, and Calvin and Hobbes are all interesting philosophers. Some bands get way better with time. I don’t appreciate my friends enough, and don’t adequately show the appreciation I do have. Siblings keep you humble. My parents are too amazing and sacrificial for words. Toll plaza passes make life way easier. I’m selfish. Even right-brained people need to know how to budget. Roommates were a good invention. There’s a crazy amount of grace covering my life. People skills are insanely valuable. Beating myself up about being human doesn’t accomplish anything. Poker is okay if you’re just betting with chips. It’s better to have a small part in a big project than a big part in a small one. I have hope. I’m not too old to learn new things that are totally unrelated to my major. I should use sun block more often. Beauty is not always subjective. Household chores can be very therapeutic. I’m afraid of failure—or even being average. I need lots of sleep to function. There are few things more valuable than having a mentor. Working out and dieting will never trump genetics. Sometimes I think I’m really unattractive. College gives you an opportunity to confront yourself—unless you’re too busy. Thinking is a use-it-or-lose-it skill. I’ll probably eat kosher for the rest of my life. Midnight conversations make life so much more comprehensible. Meeting people is one of my favorite hobbies. It’s worth being poor to go to a good school. I thought I would be a lot trendier by the time I got to college. Trends waste valuable money that could be spent in thrift stores. I’m lazy. Food service teaches you a lot about human nature. Sometimes I wish I had a boyfriend. Most of the time I’m thankful that I don’t. Just because something is required for a class doesn’t mean it’s worth complaining about. Spending the whole day on Facebook is pathetic…and kind of boring. Music puts a new perspective on everything. Sometimes you don’t need to upgrade. Real friends make the price of gas irrelevant. Blasting “Play That Funky Music, White Boy” can be a legitimate father-daughter bonding moment. I’m not ready to get old. Prayer isn’t optional. Who really gives a crap about the iPhone? True success is conquering your addictions. It doesn’t matter how much you know, just how much you grow.

Of Sugar Highs and Simple Math

2008-03-25T23:45:00.000-07:00

I did it. I lived the dream. Or rather, relived it.

Today I went off to Chinatown with my 70-something-odd grandmother and the 83-year-old man who's in love with her. She told me a few months ago that he's a great guy, but she's "not ready" to consider a relationship with him. In the meantime, he's happy to use his knee replacement surgery as an excuse to take her arm while crossing the street.

I didn't know what it'd be like wandering the crowded streets with a couple of senior citizens, but I figured it couldn't be that bad. Though I felt a little nervous when I spent the BART ride to the city teaching "O'Neal" how to program contacts into his cell phone.

Come to find out, one comment from the waitress at the Oriental Pearl set the mood for the day:
"Injoy yuh time with yuh babee girl!"

You remember those days? The times when you were spoiled, before there were younger siblings/cousins/kids for the adults to obsess over? Back when you were cute?

Yeah, that's what it felt like.

O'Neal, it must be said, has a pretty hefty pocketbook. And I didn't realize that until today, when he offered to buy nearly everything I pointed at. Of course I didn't take him up on it all, but as my aunt so nicely put it, "He's very chivalrous, and will insist on paying for lunch."

Not only that, but he insisted on sponsoring my efforts to get souvenirs for my family, which brought me from "I'd love to, but I'd have nothing in my checking account" to "Oooh, look what I found for Mom!" in about five seconds. No longer feeling like a poor college student, I scoured the trinket tables with gusto.

And I got paper lanterns for my room. I'm SO excited.

Then we went for ice cream. It was a lot, but I ate it anyway. While throwing some of my waffle cone to the pigeons for them to fight over, of course.

As we waited for the cable car, I gawked at the massive buildings. Talk about feeling short. I kind of liked the sensation, though. Just like the sugar buzz that made me babble on about nothing for an hour. I think I may still be on it, which is why I wrote such a long post.

Conclusion? I like college. And being grown up. And pseudo-rich-uncles probably don't do much to build my character.

But nothing makes a relaxing spring break like being a little kid.

Pour nous, "Colore Vivante" est la meilleur de les films petites...

2008-01-18T09:33:00.000-08:00

So I found out that our Visual Aesthetics project has been on Youtube for a month.

Good thing I finally bothered asking Vange--I love my Asian.

Anyway, let me just say THANKS SO MUCH(!!!) to everyone at Biola who helped out with it...I find it humbling that you would do everything from walking around wearing garbage bags to skipping class for the sake of our short. It means a lot. And it got lots of compliments. :)

That's one small step for film...one giant leap for freshmen!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rd8xNScc594
(lower quality, but you know how it goes.)

Mmm, it feels like Friday.

A Sunday smile in the face of an elephant gun...

2008-01-12T19:53:00.000-08:00

I love/hate art.

It's easy for the math people...there's only one right answer. No one argues whether 2 + 2 = 5 in some cases, or suggests that we leave it open to interpretation. People aren't considered better or worse within the church based on whether they've chosen to work with algebra or trigonometry. And all of the rules are straightforward.

Then you have the film majors.

It's ridiculous the kinds of things people tell me or assume about me. Apparently I'm either
A) selling out on the faith
B) trying to save Hollywood from damnation like Abraham tried to save Sodom
C) going to push Jesus' agenda for Him until every movie that it cranks out is a dramatization of a book of the Bible

Survey says: D) None of the above.

I was involved in a long conversation about the role of Christians in entertainment this afternoon, and eventually just walked away and started banging on the piano. I'm a laid-back person, but...augh. No one seems to understand that people can use art that isn't "Christian"-labeled to glorify God...on purpose! To them it's either a fluke or sin. Regardless of its real effect.

[The neighbors are playing the theme to Hawaii-Five-O. Really loud.]

I can't look you in the eye and tell you that I know how to label every movie good or bad. I'm freaking eighteen. I'll probably be wrestling with the specifics my whole life. But I still chase art. I have to. I'm not meant for math.

I want Him to speak through my movies the same way He speaks through the sunset. Because even heathens love to watch sunsets.

"Do you have a red Ferrari?" "Why, yes I do." "It's being towed."

2007-12-22T13:06:00.000-08:00

So, Nat'l Treasure 2 was good. I'm always apprehensive about sequels...I think the sophomore slump thing applies to movies as well as music. Then again, when you go to a movie with the right people, it can't be that bad. Fortunately for everyone around us, we didn't have to make too many witty comments to make it interesting. Justin Bartha got enough nice lines, and it turns out there are lots of ridiculous federal crimes that can be committed for a good cause. I still think Nicolas Cage is losing hair though.

It's weird being back home, but I think I've adjusted all right. I must have slept for 11-12 hours a night last weekend though. My body basically said, "No more finals? Seriously? Yessss!" and kept conking out even when I didn't give it permission.

Wednesday I got to see everyone at church, and it felt like I was home from a war or something with all of the excited greetings I gave/got. Ya know, I really love those people. I hung out at Melissa's house afterwards, and we talked about our semesters, what had changed, and what was the same. And how scary it is that people our age are getting married.

Thursday a girl who was kind of my mentee for a while called to say that she just got engaged. Thanks for the heart attack, Angel...you're TWO WEEKS older than me! Agh. Anyways, he's a sweet kid and I basically made her promise me she'd have a long engagement. I can't run her life, and I haven't been in it enough lately to know what would be best. Prayer, maybe?

This week I worked close to 50 hours, and it's exciting to no longer be in food service. Even accident-prone Hannah finds it hard to burn herself while filing insurance certificates. Paper cuts, on the other hand...
I've started doing receptionist work also, which is new. I think I have an irrational fear of exchanging information with people I don't know and can't see (go ahead--laugh), so learning the phone has been interesting. I think I'm overcoming it, now that I'm not so worried about accidentally hanging up on someone important--I'll bet this is a valuable film-industry skill, also. "Hello, Mr. Spielberg? I know you're busy, but...uh...could I arrange a meeting?"

Since I worked so much this week, I could finally send in my BlackMac for the $800 repairs the water damage required. My roommate was thrilled that I won't have to edit my projects on her computer next semester. Three months without a laptop was rough, but if a film major could do it, anyone can. :)

Now I have a four-day weekend to relax, and two days to get the presents ready. Aaah. I like this "break" concept. Wonder if I'll be blogging like mad now that I have time?

2007-12-22T09:45:00.001-08:00

"There's no way, 'cause you can't pay..."

2007-11-24T16:09:00.000-08:00

Indebted.

This word has appeared in my consciousness oh-so-often over the past few days.

In elementary school, I was sometimes late to the table on Thanksgiving because I was too busy adding subheadings to my Christmas list. Later on, I began to understand the unwritten code of conduct: don't talk about what you want until you've smiled politely and told the family and God how much you like everything you already have. It seemed fair enough. Anyway, I knew the people in my life would be happier about buying me the obligatory presents--and maybe even get me extra--the more I mentioned how the Beanie Babies I got last year made a positive impact on my life. I almost enjoyed the pre-Christmas anticipation more than the actual event, because once the wrapping paper littered the floor and all suspense had vanished, the horrible knowledge of one thing would hang over my head like a dark bough of mistletoe: thank you notes.

I owe many things to my mother, and one of the biggest is the ability to properly show gratitude. I can't count how many times during my childhood (wow, I feel so old saying that...) I carefully explained to her that NO ONE ELSE had to write thank you notes. To her credit, my mom was not often swayed by the arguments of a fifth-grader. Every Christmas and birthday, the thank-you notes went out. I tried to amuse myself by picking interesting stationery and figuring out how many different ways I could say the exact same thing. Still, I was lucky if Mom had to remind me less than five times before I finished them. "Dear Aunt Lori, thanks SO much for the Bop It. I play with it a lot..."

Now, older and supposedly "wiser," I like thank you notes. No joke. Probably because I realize just how much effort and sacrifice goes into finding a present or offering help. And how little I deserve said effort and sacrifice. Egomaniac fifth grader that I once was, presents seemed like necessity, routine...right up there with washing socks and going to church. Now that I know myself better, I am further convinced that C.S. Lewis can read my mind.

"I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through. I want God, you, all friends merely to serve my turn."

In light of my own selfishness, I am more and more blown away by the number of people who are willing to sacrifice for me. To listen to me. And thank you notes seem utterly inadequate. Here I am at Biola, the "dream school" I couldn't afford. I just talked to my dad, who misses me a lot but has never yet laid on a guilt trip about my absence or my expenditures. Last night I was at Grandma's one room apartment, where she tried her hardest to fix me a beautiful meal with what she had on hand. Steak and macaroni never tasted so good. I'm typing this on Karyn's laptop, at her house where I've been invited to stay the night. They just bought me pens to replace all the ones I've lost this semester. :) And the Savior sees my inmost being, yet loves me more intensely than I could ever fathom.

I'm going to need more thank you notes.

Oh no, this couldn't be more unexpected...

2007-10-23T20:39:00.000-07:00

Here I am beginning another blog. Why? Who cares?

Maybe this will be good for me--my thoughts have been escaping too much as of late, and I have a feeling I'll want to remember everything I contemplate during these next four years.