Merry Christmas to you all!

Awhile ago, I started selling some odds and ends on Ebay. I took this picture last night, a purchase I offered to gift wrap. Does it look good?

Merry Christmas to you all!
May this time be a time for good reflection, yet also a time for recuperation that is filled with peace, love, and hope. Best wishes to you.

"The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," I absolutely loved it!

Since the movie came out last week, my husband and I have gone out to see "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." Seeing any movie that many times in a movie theater is quite extravagant for us. We used seeing the movie a second time as leverage, at my suggestion, for me to work hard on my dissertation. The condition I set was that given I finish or come close to finishing work on the third chapter of my dissertation, we would go. Got pretty close to finishing, I did. In fact, I didn't go to bed this past Monday until I e-mailed the completed revised third chapter to my dissertation adviser. Back to the movie, I absolutely adored it. I thought all the actors performed extremely well. I was especially pleased with the person who played the character of Lucy. She's so young, yet such a great actor. I'm ever eager to see the movie again, but I will probably have to wait until it comes out on video/DVD.

I know, I know, this is nothing resembling a movie review. But, I prefer to be childlike and mysterious in my estimation of the film. Simply put, I love the movie. But, I am also heavily biased by the fact that I love C. S. Lewis's writings and I am a lover of animals.

The Cleverness of My Cat

Oftentimes the keenness of cats are underestimated. I'm watching my beloved cat right now (or I was watching him until I started typing). He's quite a clever little (old) cat.

At the moment, he's giving himself a bath and he's clipping his own nails. Now, he's quite good at giving himself a clean bath. Many people, upon seeing him for the first time, comment that his fur looks so soft. And, he's pretty good at trimming his nails, although they could be a tad shorter.

And, earlier in the week, I witnessed him doing something for the first time. Only after the fact and after my husband explained matters to me, did I realize that he was sliding his butt across the diningroom and livingroom floor. He was holding his front two paws pretty steady while he slid his back end and legs forward. The action looked very strange. The first thought to cross my mind concerned the fact that he's quite old and perhaps he's beginning to . . . retire various parts of his body. Well, the story that had a sad and confused start has a bit of a funny ending. My husband, while the cat was still in the activity, said that "he is sliding butt all over your floor." Not long after he stopped, we figured out why he was sliding his bottom around on the floor; he had something stuck on his bottom. And, his antics worked; the foreign object was no longer attached to his bottom. Instead, with such wonderful timing, as I was finishing breakfast, my husband drew attention to the present he left behind on the floor. Thankfully, my husband cleaned it up off the floor. In hindsight and even now, I think that's so clever! Imagine not having arms to be able to get something off of a part of your body, such as your bottom. How would you get it off?

My kitty-cat's brilliance doesn't stop there. From reading a book on training and with some diligence, I taught my cat to come to me on command. He does in fact come to me when I call for him! And who said cats are dumb? Not I, said the fly.

The Latest Andrew Lloyd Webber work: "The Woman in White"

Many who know me well are aware of the fact that I love musicals. I ran across a review of "The Woman in White" today in the New York Times. I know little about the musical, other than having heard the name. The review I found to be well written and informative.

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November 18, 2005

THEATER REVIEW | 'THE WOMAN IN WHITE'

A Tutor, a Triangle and Hearts That Sing

By BEN BRANTLEY

Bravely flouting centuries of accepted scientific theory, the creators of "The Woman in White" have set out to prove that the world is flat after all. Inspired by the spine-tingling Wilkie Collins novel of 1860, this latest work from the poperetta king Andrew Lloyd Webber, which opened last night at the Marquis Theater, seems to exist willfully and unconditionally in two dimensions.

It's not just that this import from London, directed by Trevor Nunn and designed by William Dudley, has rejected a conventional set in favor of computer-animated projections that make you feel as if you're trapped inside a floating upscale travel magazine. It's that everything concerned with this reshaping of a landmark English mystery novel (adapted by the playwright Charlotte Jones, with lyrics by David Zippel) gives the sense of having been subjected to a similar process of flattening and compression.

Plot, characters, words and most of the performances in this tale of love, deception and unspeakable secrets in Victorian England emanate the aura of autumn leaves ironed into crisp immobility between sheets of waxed paper. There is, of course, Lord Lloyd Webber's music, which swirls and slides and glides its way into your inner ear, where it will rest for many a day, whether you want it to or not.

But even the music has the feeling of freeze-dried Lloyd Webber motifs to which water has been added for the occasion. Like the show's visuals, its sounds - with British folk and liturgical accents, along with occasional atonal ominousness, spicing the usual melodic stew - tantalize with a promise of substance that is seldom delivered.

Before we go further, let's cut to the real drama of "The Woman in White," which has nothing to do with ghostly apparitions in churchyards and virgins in jeopardy. As was reported in this newspaper, the show's star, Maria Friedman, received a diagnosis of Stage 1 breast cancer on Oct. 31, and after performing in only five of the show's previews, underwent surgery. A week later she was back onstage, in a physically and vocally taxing role.

In the best tradition of backstage stories of determination and triumph, Ms. Friedman, a longtime favorite of London musical audiences, makes an impeccably professional Broadway debut. Portraying Marian Halcombe, the plainer and cleverer of two sisters exploited for evil ends by a sinister nobleman, Ms. Friedman is required to be incorrigibly perky and to scamper a lot in heavy period dresses, a form of movement that should be forced upon no one over 12.

But when she sings of hope and heartbreak and honorable vengeance for dirty deeds, her deeply expressive voice has the sheen of emotional truth. Ms. Friedman's Marian clearly believes every word she sings. Would that the audience could share her conviction.

Lord Lloyd Webber has described his latest score as his most operatic and complex. And when the show begins, amid clouds of stage smoke, Lloyd Webber fans may be slightly disappointed by the fragmented, dissonant quality of the music, more reminiscent of Benjamin Britten's "Peter Grimes" than of "The Phantom of the Opera."

But within 10 minutes, that familiar glucose sweep of melody has begun. And while the score periodically wanders into less sweetly harmonic territory, as in a wedding sequence that turns the carol "The Holly and the Ivy" into a dirge out of a Hammer horror movie, you can always feel the music ready to return to its natural valentine frilliness.

If in Lloyd Webber productions like "Cats" (the longest-running musical on Broadway) and "Phantom" (poised to surpass "Cats" for that same distinction) the music seems on the verge of segueing into an aria by Puccini, in "The Woman in White" you often expect the songs to mutate into older Lloyd Webber beauties like "Memory" and "All I Ask of You."

Such numbers are here mostly sung by the love triangle made up of Ms. Friedman's Marian, her beauteous half sister, Laura Fairlie (Jill Paice), and Walter Hartright (Adam Brazier), the handsome young man who comes to tutor the girls (orphans, of course) in art on the grand country estate of their hypochondriacal uncle (Walter Charles). (A shriller counterpoint is provided by a pre-Raphaelite madwoman, screeched by Angela Christian as the title character.) Though much of the novel's tension stems from feelings repressed or unacknowledged, the characters here find their hearts right away. Belonging to Lloyd Webber land, those hearts refuse to stay quiet.

"I believe my heart," they sing, as flocks of musical notes, suggesting butterflies and cherubs, flutter around them. It took me three months to get that darn tune out of my head after seeing the show in London more than a year ago. And I am now resigned to having it whispering in my mind for months to come. Like it or not, Lord Lloyd Webber is a master of brainwashing. And in "The Woman in White" he takes that mastery to new extremes, with insistently reiterated motifs that act on listeners like branding irons.

Such sounds are deployed in a long march of recitative that explains and re-explains the elaborate plot in exceedingly clunky lyrics. (My personal favorites include "I must disregard his charms/ And his manly rugged arms," and "I was sure I heard her screaming/ But they told me I was dreaming.") Scenes of fight and flight, of seduction and betrayal occur as Marian, Laura and Walter step into and escape from snares set by the fortune-hunting bounder Sir Percival Glyde (Ron Bohmer) and his mustache-twirling accomplice, Count Fosco (Michael Ball, wearing a fat suit and a music-hall Italian accent).

The physical action (Wayne McGregor is the movement director) feels annotative instead of organic. The show is all big generic set pieces - of discovery and catastrophe and confrontation - that fail to stir because they seem only to further the plot, not define the characters. There's a cold efficiency in both Ms. Jones's streamlining and rearranging of the labyrinthine novel and in Sir Trevor's staging, which keeps the ensemble moving with martial surefootedness on a constantly revolving turntable.

It's not surprising that the performers have little chance of establishing personalities beyond that of decorative chess figurines. As the sybaritic, amoral Fosco, Mr. Ball, in a role created in London by Michael Crawford, certainly has the flashiest part and liveliest songs. But while the only genuinely chilling moments belong to him (as when he kisses an unconscious, drugged Marian on the lips), Fosco is basically a Disney cartoon villain. Since everyone seems robotically programmed, it's especially refreshing when he puts a live white rat on his shoulder for a jaunty number about making crime pay. There is, for a moment, actual suspense, when it looks as if the rat might not respond on cue.

"The Woman in White" has the misfortune to be the second musical slice of Victorian Gothic to open on Broadway in the last several weeks. The first was John Doyle's reconceived staging of "Sweeney Todd," the Stephen Sondheim-Hugh Wheeler tale of a homicidal barber. Both shows make a macabre case for there being "no place like London" (to borrow a Sondheim lyric), with nightmarish street scenes of urban hell.

But despite (or perhaps because of) having a much smaller cast, orchestra and stage - and nothing approaching the literal-minded scene-setting of Mr. Dudley's projections - "Sweeney Todd" draws you straight into an anxious fever dream; the songs seem to come from within you. By contrast, "The Woman in White" feels as personally threatening as a historical diorama behind glass. It's not a terrible show, but it's an awfully pallid one. The difference between it and "Sweeney Todd" is the difference between water and blood.

The Woman in White

Freely adapted from the novel by Wilkie Collins; music by Andrew Lloyd Webber; lyrics by David Zippel; book by Charlotte Jones; directed by Trevor Nunn; orchestrations by David Cullen; orchestration supervised by Lord Lloyd Webber; musical supervision by Simon Lee; movement direction by Wayne McGregor; associate musical supervisor/musical director, Kristen Blodgette; technical supervision by David Benken; projection realization and system design, Mesmer-Dick Straker/Sven Ortel; music coordinator, David Lai; production stage manager, Rick Steiger; associate producers, Stage Entertainment BV; lighting by Paul Pyant; sound by Mick Potter; set, costume and video design by William Dudley. Presented by Boyett Ostar Productions, Nederlander Presentations Inc., Sonia Friedman Productions Ltd., the Really Useful White Company, Lawrence Horowitz/Jon Avnet, Ralph Guild/Bill Rollnick, Bernie Abrams/Michael Speyer and Clear Channel Entertainment/PIA. At the Marquis Theater, 211 West 45th Street; (212) 307-4100. Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes.

WITH: Maria Friedman (Marian Halcombe), Michael Ball (Count Fosco), Jill Paice (Laura Fairlie), Angela Christian (Anne Catherick), Adam Brazier (Walter Hartright), Ron Bohmer (Sir Percival Glyde), Walter Charles (Mr. Fairlie), Norman Large (Signal Man and Pawnbroker), John Dewar (Mr. Fairlie's Servant), Justis Bolding (a Village Girl), Richard Todd Adams (a Con Man) and Patty Goble (the warden).

Anyone out there?

I don't know what I'm doing, other than putting off going to bed, like I did when I was an itty-bitty kid. Wait, but I'm not that little anymore.

Actually, I'm dreading the mere possibility of another night of tossing and turning. And, I don't want to bother my husband with my tossing and turning and tossing and turning and tossing and turning. You get the idea. How is it that we get these restless sleep nights?

Who are the people that are up at this time? Are you adventurers in the night? Are you nightcrawlers?

Okay, way seriously, I'm quite exhausted. It's time for me to head to the world of dreams. Good night all.

The Love of My Life

My husband is the love of my life. But, when I refer to him as "the love of my life," I am not utilizing some Hollywood notion of love. The Hollywood notion seems focused on feeling continual pleasure of some sort. Plus, the feeling can be fleeting.

The love I speak of runs deep. By now, we've known each six years in the running, three of which we have been married. The love of which I speak involves so much I'm not even sure I can describe half of it here at this juncture. For starters, at times I do feel quite giddy and excited when I think about him. But, I really desire to understand him and grow closer to him. And, the longer I know him, the better I comprehend him. I confess, there are times I find him extremely irritating for various reasons. Our relationship, our marriage, is built on more than moment to moment events and feelings. We've taken a covenant to be with one another for the rest of our lives. This means more than merely being roommates. This means more than being best friends.

On my better and more mature days, especially as time progresses, I realize more and more that I love my husband for who he is. I don't love him for the final product after I mold or change him. I didn't marry him so I could turn him into a clone of myself. Surprisingly, a lot of women believe that they can and will change their significant other after marrying them.

No, this man is the love of my life. What does that mean? Well, I find him physically attractive, extremely intelligent, spiritually mature, intense - and I love him for all of that! I love that he values his time alone (even though I am naturally much more extroverted than him). And today, bless him, he bought groceries and took care of some housekeeping matters (including calling a previous landlord that is trying to cheat us out of our money by making up stories that never happened). But, he didn't stop there. He took a leap far beyond his comfort zone, and he not only went to the mall to walk around with me, but he helped me scope out some cute clothes. I walked away with a fun, stylish, cute skirt. Before he grew too weary, he let me know that he was tired of the crowds and tired of shopping. But, the way in which he told me was polite but explicit. Towards the end of the evening, we watched some of the older Batman animated short films. We both love watching animated films.

Anyways, I'm not sure I'm very coherent. Got to hit the sack. Auf wiedersehen.

A Purple Unicorn for Halloween

My students wanted me to dress up as a purple unicorn for Halloween (today). This is it! That's the closest they're going to get to me dressing up as a purple unicorn this year.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, thankfully. Last weekend, I spoke with my Doctoral adviser twice. Much to my relief and ultimate exuberance, she not only said that the revised first chapter of my dissertation was better, she actually gave it her blessing. Both times she spoke about that revised first chapter, her comments were not all that substantive. But, I should back up and explain the moments (more like seeming aeions) leading up to that point.

In July, I finished submitting the final chapter, Chapter 8, of the first go on my dissertation. And, even this was after much struggle with hoards upon hoards of material. In August of last year, I began, in earnest, working on my disseration. I convinced myself that a six month hiatus from serious philosophical work was reasonable given that in February of last year, I went through gut-wrenching, quite stressful process of studying for and taking four written comprehensive examinations and taking an oral examination defending my responses. Well, luckily, I had narrowed my dissertation topic far enough that I haven't read a bunch of interesting but useless information. That isn't to say that, to date, I haven't read seemingly endless numbers of articles, books, and monographs. In August, I began the painful process of reading each article and writing a critical summary of each article immediately after each reading. How else was I supposed to keep track of everything I was reading?

If that wasn't enough to handle at once, at the same time, I was also teaching and taking a class. I was TAing three sections (of one class) and teaching an entirely different class. One of the classes I taught that fall semester (Fall Semester 2004) was a non-introductory class, for which I had a new prep. That took much additional effort and time.

At any rate, it wasn't until close to the end of the Winter Term, 2005, that I began writing the actual dissertation. The first attempt of my dissertation contained eight chapters. In hindsight, I wrote those chapters with too much going on in my life (working part time at Talbots, getting ready to move, keeping up with friends, etc.) and too much haste. But, to my credit, I did finish one draft of the dissertation before embarking on new territories and a full-time teaching position.

Well, given that life for my husband and me became quite hectic, starting this past July and lasting until relatively recently (the hecticness actually hasn't quite ended yet), the nearly three month dissertation writing hiatus makes sense. Besides just being crazy busy, I had also been experiencing some version of writer's block. I was determined that upon resumption of writing, whatever I wrote and submitted to my Doctoral adviser had to be of a much higher caliber, pedigree, and such. My goal was to make the next draft worlds better than the previous one. I admitted to my adviser soon before leaving Mizzou and Columbia that I wasn't sure what to write. In fact, I didn't want to fail again. One of the last comments she gave me before I departed was that "it will come." She was trying to tell me that I would eventually figure out what to write.

Sure enough, she was right. Once I figured out how to revamp the first Chapter, which, to me involved the most challenging work (in comparison with the other chapters to follwo), the writing came pretty easily. It certainly no longer felt like root canal work. And, like any true revision, my revised first chapter looks nothing at all like my original first chapter. I kept little to nothing of the content of the original first chapter. Since she approves of the revised first chapter, I'm feeling quite good now of the direction I will take in the remaining four chapters. Yes, the number of chapters have changed since the first draft.

I feel encouraged. I feel on top of the world. Graduation is something I can kind of, sort of, see happening. My goal and determination is to complete this revision by the end of November. That means I have a lot of hard, diligent, brain-splitting work to do in the next month and a week. Then, my plan is to discuss my Doctoral adviser's final comments, so I can make some more corrections before my dissertation goes to the rest of my committee.

Raging Hormones

Since last night, I began to sense that something was changing. I couldn't quite figure out what that something was. It's just that I knew I was a bit more sensitive than usual and that a lot of things were bothering me. This morning, the same sort of thing was and is occurring. I'm extremely sensitive. This is a bit strange to describe in words, but I am easily moved, even by that which has no direct relation to me. Much is capable of moving me (possibly to tears) at this point. Then, I realized the time of the month it is for me. And, all becomes much clearer. I'm going through hormonal fluctuations that comes once every three weeks, whether I like it or not, whether I'm ready or not. Other things could genuinely be going wrong, but I'm more sensitive than usual. Ah, hah; I've discovered the culprit. In hindsight, I know that I've been experiencing hormonal changes since yesterday. That's why things have been bothering me more than usual. Why is it that hormonal changes affect women the way they do? Seems to be more of a curse, not only to the individual experiencing the changes but also to those around the individual, than anything else. Is there any way to control or adjust to the hormonal fluctuations?

Obliviousness that is SO ANNOYING!

Everyday, soon after I get up, I put away the dishes washed the night before. My husband washes the dishes right before going to bed. Every morning, lately, various dishes are dirty even after he has "washed" them. Plates are still rough towards the center and crusty on the side, the lids of coffee decanters still have coffee residues on them, and other kitchenware have remnants of what them contained the previous day. Supposedly, he's been scrubbing those dishes harder, but dishes still come out dirty, day after day after day. Yet, briefly taking the rough, green side of the sponge to the dish and the dirtiness quickly goes away at my hand. Go figure.

He washed clothes some time over the weekend. And, four days later, the clothes are still sitting in his basket, not put away. Over a week ago, our previous landlord sent us a letter, claiming we owe her over $500. With her trying to take unfair advantage of us, my husband is in charge of contacting her (by mail is my preference), and he still has not written her a letter. In the meantime, she refuses to give back our $575 deposit. My husband waits forever to get anything done!!! He spends a fair portion of the day lost in thought and working on research (that may not get published any time soon, given the controversy over his research interest), but very little time doing what's practically important.

Though I'm teaching full time and I am finishing my dissertation, I'm still taking a large chunk of time (full-time, I'd say) taking care of our home. Some of those things, I enjoy doing, since I like matters done in a timely fashion; for instance, I pay bills. But, other things, cleaning up after my husband has been in the kitchen (wiping countertops, putting away unused items, rewashing what wasn't cleaned well the first time), I don't enjoy doing. And, such activities eat up a significant amount of time. For my husband to bag up any garbage at all, he has to be asked to do so. I end up barreling the trash to the curb more than he does, and if he's not reminded to roll the garbage out other times, he'll forget. He leaves lights on as he finishes and exists rooms; he leaves computers on (including leaving monitors on) after he's done using them. My husband's obliviousness and absentmindedness is so annoying and costly sometimes!

What's offensive and annoying about his absentmindedness is partly the waste of resources, but mostly, I take that as he doesn't really care about me. All that matters in this world is him. He's consumed by his own interests, and nothing else and no one else interest him. In fact, lately, when I am speaking with my husband, he has not been listening. You'd think I'd learn the first ten thousand times and give up trying to talk to him. But, crazy as this seems, there's a deep yearning to connect with him. Sighhhhhhhhhhhh.

When Silence is the Most Unwelcomed Guest

A huge pet-peeve of mine is after having poured out a bunch of information about current frustrations to a very close person, the person responds with little to no words. Are you kidding me? I just poured my heart out to you, and all you can muster to say is, "that's interesting." I spent a good chunk of energy and time explaining some matters that are very frustrating to me, and this person doesn't say anything that indicates he was even listening! I would get just as much response talking to a rock or my cat as him. He told me to just assume that he is listening.

I'm going to steal a few lines from the movie "Sabrina" for a moment. As Maude, in "Sabrina" says, "Do I look stupid? You know, I never thought of myself as stupid. But maybe I am."

What? No! - I'm not going to assume that he's listening. Too many times (and yes, I do mean too many times) I've spoken with him, and he has had no idea what I have said. Other people have had the same frustrations with him. I can't simply assume that he's actually listening when he says nothing, because I'll end up being wrong most of the time. It's hard to not take to heart that he spends a lot of time ignoring what I tell him, because he's supposed to be my significant other. He's supposed to care. How is he supposed to care, if he's not aware of that about which he's supposed to care? Arrrrrrrggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh! I'm so utterly frustrated. Sometimes I just want to give up confiding in him. Waste of his time? Forget that, talking with him is a total waste of my time and energy. What's the point in talking with him if he's only going to listen %10 percent of the time?

Yet, I'm stuck. We're together. I promised to stay with him.

Seriously, why can't he learn to listen? If I'm coming to him at a bad time (which is probably most of the time), why won't he say something? Why does he let me continue talking and not listen when he knows he's the only audience. Wonder whether he enjoys the same being done to him, not listening to him when he's trying in earnest to share something.

Listen! Speak like you've actually heard what has been said and what is being said. For Pete's sake.

I'M SO MAD!

This is one of those days where most everything seems to be going haywire. My husband and I moved just over a month ago. Well, today, I heard from my former landlord. Not only are we seeing none of th $575 deposit we put into the place we rented from her, but she's alleging that we owe an additional $595.79. All in all, she's expecting us to give her $1170.79, and for what?! She claims: carpet cleaning, painting (for $775!-this is just a duplex), cleaning, and replacing all blinds, doorstops, lightbulbs, etc. Painting?!! I don't remember that being a part of lease, where she was going to take out money for painting the place, much less $775! And cleaning? What sort of cleaning was done such that the cost was $120? Why in the world did I bother vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms, cleaning the appliances, etc., if she was going to charge us for cleaning? Why did she have to replace all blinds, doorstops, lightbulbs, etc.? She didn't seem to replace all blinds when we moved in that place; in fact, the livingroom blinds failed to work soon after we moved there! Lightbulbs?! They were all working when we left that place; I made sure of it! She took total advantage of us.

On top of all that, I'm frustrated, because lately I'm dealing more with class disorder than teaching. My job is to teach, not to babysit. Instead, especially in one of my classes, my students talk and chit-chat in a way that's disruptive. Yet, I don't quite want to say something every time I hear people talk. If they genuinely are dialoguing about the material, I don't mind. Also, a number of my students do not seem to know English as well as they should (students appear to be bilingual, but English seems to be functioning as a second language for them), and I don't want to interrupt any translating help they're offering one another. This is week five of classes, and I'm still having students tell me about how they still don't have a book for the class, and this, that, and the other. My students are performing poorly on their quizzes - open note quizzes! - yet enough of them act as if class time is play time. Not all of them are reading the text (even though a large chunk of their grade depends on it), a number of them aren't paying attention in class, few of them are taking careful notes in lecture, the story goes on. If I weren't a teacher who cared so much about how well my students do, maybe this wouldn't matter as much. But, I take their performance (or poor performance) personally!

Then, this dissertation things is really bugging me. In the end, it's my ugly battle to fight. And, guess what? I'm losing! I'm not getting very far and I'm moving quite slowly. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

Please! I'd like to see some positive occurrences in my life. I'd like some indication that it's not a complete flop. Bitte schon.

Choose an easy way out & you're on your own

I felt the Lord spoke truth into my current life situation this morning during service. The jist of what I was hearing included a few noteworthy points. First, God never promised an easy road for us as Christians. I understand that, at least cognitively. I suppose realizing and accepting it experientially is more of a challenge. Second, those trying times are opportunities for us to grow and mature as Christians. Never has it been my experience that people's faith stays the same with difficult roads and challenges. We either strengthen as Christians or we weaken as Christians. We have a chance to respond appropriately to the uncomfortable challenge and seemingly unwelcomed adventure. That is, we have a chance to turn to the Lord for strength and wisdom and to recognize the limitations and weaknesses of our own abilities. Third, and very closely related to the second, we have a chance the see what the Lord wants to do with our lives and observe God's working in our lives.

Instead of running from the tough road - struggles over progressing in my dissertation work (and finishing my Doctorate), transitioning to a new place and job - I need to accept that this is my road to take. Forward is the direction I need to walk on this road. And, I need to pray that I learn what God wants to teach me. Moreover, I need to pray for his wisdom and pray that I can and will lean on Him for strength. Journey forward!

The sermon was based on 1 Samuel 13: 1-14. The main points made about the passage are as follows. Israel had desperately wanted a king. And, even though that was not the wisest to have, God gave Israel what they wanted so badly. Saul was Israel's first king. But, Saul had to agree to rule to the glory of God. In Chapter 13 of 1 Samuel, Saul was preparing for war, but Samuel instructed and warned to wait for his (Samuel's) arrival before making any moves. The winning of this war was to be to God's glory, not to Saul's glory. Samuel told Saul he would arrive on the eighth day. The eighth day came and went, with no sight of Samuel. With his men scattering, Saul grew increasingly anxious and decided to sacrifice the burnt offering himself. Soon after performing the sacrifice, Samuel arrived and asked Saul what he had done. Long story short, though Saul won the battle, he won the battle for himself and not for the Lord. Due to his haste and lack of patience (perhaps it was more of a trust issue), the Lord decided not to have his lineage go through Saul. What a loss to Saul for not trusting that the Lord would take care of him in this battle.

I want to trust that the Lord will take care of me and see me through this current battle. I do not want to miss out on what God wants to do with my life by looking for an easy way out of this battle. I further do not want to lose out on the opportunity to see God working in my life (such as seeing and understanding why God led me here for particular reasons).

Blogging as a way of connecting with people in the world

Earlier today, I was speaking with a really good friend of mine. Amongst numerous conversation topics, she mentioned that she was wondering about why I had a sudden recent curiosity with blogs. In fact, at this time, I have four blogs. Before, I had heard about blogs, but I never really had any inkling or motivation to dip into the world of blogs. Perhaps I was too busy with other things. Actually, that is at least partially true. I had enough of a hard time balancing my own work with meeting with various friends. I am never too busy for friends. However, the idea of meeting new friends, via blog or any other means, did not appeal to me. Or maybe so many other miscellanous obligations, activities, and engagements blocked my view, I did not see much beyond the sea of activities whirring around me. I cannot put my finger exactly on the culprit.

However, my dear friend probably had at least a couple of observations correct. First, I'm a very social being. And, still being new to this place (new life in a different city and state), I haven't had the chance to form a network of friends with whom I can feed my ever social tendencies.

Well, I started my first blog when I was trying to respond to a best friend of my husband's blog. At the time, his blog was set up in such a way that only those who have blog accounts could comment. I, ofcourse, wanted to support his work in setting up his first blog. So, I signed up for an account. In doing so, though, I wanted to begin with a meaningful subject, and that I did. From there, I e-mailed the blog address to all our friends, the ones we recently left behind and the ones we've made elsewhere as well.

Then, my latest addiction was born. I have grown into a person that desires organization. Eventually, I wanted to be able to write about topics and matters that stretched beyond the first blog I started. As I was working on my first blog and the subsequent ones, I slowly realized that I have no idea how many people are actually accessing my writings. Well, I know of those who leave comments. But, aside from that, I have little idea who is or is not reading my postings. A part of this blogging business is quite mysterious, and a lot of the users (of the blogs) are anonymous. That makes this all the more interesting.

Besides curiosity with the unknown, I also am experiencing this extreme childlike excitement, always wanting to check to see if anyone left comments with my postings. I'm eager when someone has said something. But, I'm sad and disappointed when no one has left any comments. I feel saddened that no one has recently taken a look at my profile or been stirred by my postings. That shows, I suppose, how new I am to blogging. Soon, I surmise, the intense excitement of possibly meeting new people, whether here in the United States or elsewhere in the world, will subside.

How, I wonder, though would strangers to me find my blog? Just for fun, I tried looking at "random" blogs. I don't know how Google! generates random blogs, but mine never came up. I also tried looking up the name with which I am posting. Many other possibilities arose, but I didn't find me. Seemingly, my blogs wouldn't be that easily discovered, in part, because millions of blogs are out there. Well, there it is.

Age Sobriety and a Dose of Reality

A week ago today, I turned thirty. Thirty did not come with any ease. That is three decades I have been in existence in this world. Since I was young, I have often been plagued with the likelihood that I have lived way to much of life doing stuff for me and not enough for others. With the anniversary of my thirtieth year, I feel the weight of that responsibility with great fear. I see me (and all of us) as a steward on this earth. I'm not representing myself and doing my own thing. I'm supposed to be glorifying God and attempting to restore the image of God, in which all of us (people) were created. Well, my analysis of progress on my stewardship is that I have accomplished little to nothing.

What have I spent my life doing? Well, I've been in school most of my life so far. Since I was four and a half, I've been in school, counting from Kindergarten. However, if the count starts with preschool, I started even earlier than that. And, I am still in school, completing a Doctorate at this juncture, but still in school nevertheless. Sure, I have done other things during my life. To mention a few more recent events, I facilitated a discussion group, consisting of faculty members and students, this summer. As a facilitator or leader of a group, I feel the responsibility of quickly gaging the needs of the group as a whole. Pedagogically, leading every group the same exact way is ineffect. In this group, in particular, the members of the group were able to understand the arguments presented in each chapter on their own, even though writers of each chapter moved quite quickly. So, I derived general questions for the attendees, that pulled together the content of the material for the week, yet provoked them further into insight. I'm about to start another discussion group, going over the same book. I will have to figure out the dynamic of this group, seeing how a large number will constitute undergraduate students. Perhaps, I will have to do more teaching than discussing. Then, I am attending another discussion group, reading about aesthetics and morality, written by a Scottish philosopher by the name of Hutchinson.

Besides being a student, teaching classes, and attending or leading groups, I do other things too, but many of them seem to be activities I am interested in pursuing . . . taking photography to the next level, managing my new blogs, shopping, possibly taking yoga, lifting weights, finishing my dissertation, making new friends (we recently moved). It's about me, me, me! How repulsive.

Life is more important than me. Helping others is important, for one. Many in this world suffer, whether physically, emotionally, or spiritually. I need to take care of them. That is not to say that others can't take care of themselves, but, we should help each other out. That's part and parcel to being a good steward here on this earth.

As certain as I am that going to die some day, I am certain that I will face God some day. He already knows what I have done and he knows what I will do. But, I will face Him with what I have and have not done. But, fear of God isn't the only feeling or motivation driving me to seek to do better with my life, by other people (also God's children) are worthy in and of themselves. Whatever race, gender, wealth, belief-preferences - everyone is a child of God. And, we need to treat them as such.

Part of my problem is that I do not know what actions constitute bringing glory to God's kingdom. I don't know whether being more than just an instructor to my university students, but also, being a good role model is what I should do. I go way above the call of duty for my students. But, somehow, I sense that that is not enough. What else should I do?

Jesus did not begin his ministry until he was thirty. And in ancient times, people were not considered adults until the age of thirty. Only in relatively recent times, has the adult age been as young as it is, whether eighteen or twenty-one.

But, the problem is, I don't know what my "ministry" is supposed to be. What am I supposed to do? I don't want to be so focused on my own life and my own desires that I miss hearing what God wants me to do. This is a snapshot of my current thoughts and sustained worries (or concerns).

Why oh why the struggle over how I look?

I confess that the standard by which I look at others and the standard by whicl I look at myself are completely different. I'm not really certain what the standard for looking and examining myself is, but I don't meet it most of the time. As for others, I see people in general as beautiful. I'm fascinated with people: how they dress, how people carry themselves, how people interact with one another. People of varying characteristics - gender, race, size, shape, curvatures, whatever - are all creatures of beauty. For instance, my husband and I were walking along a beach, and I simply drank in the breath-taking wonders of nature and looked with joy at the numerous people scattered across the beach.

The story about me is not so fascinating. I struggle with not being whatever I believe society expects me to look. On the one hand, I desire to look extremely attractive. But what does that mean? I don't look like the stick thin models in J. Crew or Banana Republic magazines. I sure as heck don't look anything like the models in beauty magazines, like Vogue or Cosmopolitan. I certainly have a woman's body, fully equipped with boobs, a tummy, and hips. I've been lifting weights for six years in the running, so I might appear a bit buffer than average woman. In terms of physical upkeep of myself, I try to eat well and exercise regularly. But, I get the feeling that that's not enough. I need to be toothpick thin, lose any semblance of a tummy, and become thinner. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

My closest friends and even my spouse get tired of hearing that I feel fat, and I don't blame them at all (I would probably respond the same way in their position). The response is almost unanimous. I'm not fat and I need to stop worrying about it and stop thinking about it. They can't believe that someone like me would buy into thinking of myself as fat. Okay, okay, so I see that there is a disparity between how I see myself and how others see myself. But, I don't know how to close the gap. I certainly don't want to waste my time or energy feeling this way. I'd rather have one less thing about which to worry. What is the solution?

Dissertation Weariness and Frustrations

I want to graduate so desperately. Once I finish my dissertation and defend it, I'm done. I'll have a Doctorate. I'm so close yet so far away from finishing.

Earlier in the summer, I submitted a complete rough draft. But, here I am, stuck in a rutt, and I am having the toughest time pulling myself out of this deplorable situation. Yes, yes, I have all sorts of understandable excuses - my husband, our cat, and I made a 1200 mile move less than a month ago. We're in a new home, in a new community (we have friends all over the place, but not here, not yet), in new jobs. This move has turned my world inside out and upside down.

Excuses aside, I need to get my dissertation done! I don't have any excuses I want to use in lingering. I actually want to finish. However, I also don't want to submit crap or junk to my dissertation adviser. That has already been done, with the first draft. This one has to be better. But how? Wasting the time and energy of everyone involved is not my game, but how do I know whether I've written something worthy to be read by someone else, especially my dissertation adviser?! Somebody throw me a bone, quick!

My dissertation topic actually is of tremendous interest to me. That's not the problem. How do I organize all those articles and books I read into a coherent and interesting book? I have such little respect for my writing, I don't even want to show what I've written so far in this revision to my husband.

I'm overwhelmed with various feelings and desires: the desire to finish (but realizing that I'm not finishing as soon as I had hoped), the feeling that my writing stinks, my fear of failure, my desire to communicate the importance of my dissertation topic. If this is in some way a test God's using to grow me, I'm a terrible sport and I think I'm failing so far. I certainly can't do this on my own. Okay Lord, it's all you. I'm being totally serious here.