Thursday, February 17, 2011

Probably one of my all-time favorite songs.

Thank you Lord for all of the incredible people, unique experiences, and amazing opportunities you have filled my life with. This really is the good life.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

A clip from Graham Swifts's novel Last Orders:

"He says, 'What do you want to be, Vince? What are you going to be?...What I mean is, what do you want to do?' He smiles, like he don't mean no harm really. 'What job do you want to do?'

And I see them all hanging up before me, like clothes on a rack, all the jobs, tinker, tailor, soldier, and you have to pick one and then you have to pretend for the rest of your life that that's what you are."

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Monday, February 7, 2011

A poem inspired by W.H. Auden


“Souls Suffering on the Streets”


Souls suffering on the streets, passionately they weep;
Again we draw the curtains and drift to sleep,
Withholding any attempt to relieve some sorrow,
Always the excuse: tomorrow, tomorrow.

Stop your search for goodness: you won’t find it;
Don’t pray for God’s mercy: mankind is unfit;
Let the hatred, envy, and ignorance go on;
Individuality has become America’s icon.

Tell the homeless woman to stop hungering
And the abused child to stop whimpering;
There is no one to hear your cries;
That man was programmed to love is only a lie.

Heartbeats of humanity are deadened,
And the meaning of love has been cheapened;
God’s tears flood the earth in an anguished downpour;
Not a soul is alive anymore, anymore.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

"Stop All the Clocks" by W. H. Auden

One of the most tragic and striking poems I have read in a while.



"Stop All the Clocks" by W. H. Auden


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

God's Favor


I feel a bit ridiculous asking for God's favor yet again. I mean, honestly. In the past year alone, I've seen His blessing on my life so clearly: I was fortunate enough to receive a paid journalism internship this summer, I participated in an urban immersion program in inner city Los Angeles last semester, and now I am sitting here in a quaint little cafe in Oxford, England where I will be studying for the next few months. But the time of the year has come when I need to reapply for certain scholarships, apply for additional ones, and fill out ever more forms for possible summer positions and future opportunities. Many of them are long shots, but after the past year, I pretty much feel like God can do anything in my life and open any door He pleases. Before entering college, I was a young, naive girl who had grown up in rural areas in Hawai'i all her life and never even been out of the country, let alone dreamt of traveling the world. Yet, in just the past couple of years, my life has been packed full of new opportunities, experiences, and adventures. I feel as if there is no limit to what God can do in my life. And as I fill out all these new applications and contemplate the many opportunities that could eventually be opened to me in the near future, I ask for God's favor and blessing. After all, there is certainly no harm in asking.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Week 3 Poem, inspired by D.H. Lawrence

Gone Fishing

I placed my fishing stick in the sea
On a warm, blue-skied day.
As I sat above and looked down into the
Other world, I saw him appear,
A blur at first, but steadily clearer.
He was stunning
With his swirls of
Yellow and turquoise and silver,
Admiring, craving the shrimp that slyly
Concealed the hook’s point.

On the far side of the bay,
The shore was sharp and the current strong.
The waves were furious,
Snapping against the rocks like a lion tamer’s
   whip.
But here, the waves sweetly
   caressed
And nurtured the trap, my trap,
Making a sweet cradle with its rolling ripples,
Seductively calling my prey closer.

The fish swam nearer and then
   farther
And then in circles, slowly and around,
Like a child’s merry-go-round
   he turned,
Stopping before the bait and watching,
Admiring it like a gluttonous man
Admires the cake he is about to devour.
But no attack.

Did he know?
Had he discovered my cleverly devised
   trap?
It is all in good fun;
I will, of course, not
   kill you.
I only want to admire your beauty,
Your shiny, capturing colors.
Then I will let you loose
And you will disappear into the deep, dark abyss
   Forever.

I close my eyes only to blink and,
Yes, a tug, a pull,
I’ve got you now!
How easy that was, I thought,
As I raised my stick
Up, up, up.

But what is this?
My bait is gone!
My hook is bare, shamefully
   exposed.
Curse you, fish!
You are nothing but a crook!
Stealing my bait
And surrendering nothing in return,
You are more cruel than the devil himself!
Stop tormenting me and
Bite the bait, the piercing hook.
Bite!

But it is no use,
He is gone, satisfied after his full
And tasty meal.
Thief.
You are too slimy, too cowardly
To bite and approach and face
   me,
Eye to eye, man to fish.
Well then! Have your fun now, because
I will be back
   tomorrow.




Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Highlights From Oxford Thus Far

Here are some highlights from my last three weeks in Oxford, England:

1) Wrote 2 poems for my poetry class and wrote a paper on social class in America and how it affects academic achievement. Both really interesting topics!
2) Visited CS Lewis' house, home church, and gravesite (and sat on the bench overlooking the pond where he and Tolkien met to discuss their works)
3) Had dinner at the Eagle and Child, the place where the Inklings (including CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien, Charles Williams, etc. met to discuss their writing)
4) Ate an authentic kebab from a street cart in Oxford-so good!
5) Went clubbing for the first time
6) Joined my college's rowing team (which comes with EARLY morning practices)
7) Went to a Union debate regarding University fees
8) Had a pigeon literally fly into my head on Cornmarket street
9) Heard Sir Ian McKellen (Gandalf from Lord of the Rings) speak about his life as an actor and his struggles with and acceptance of being gay
10) Went running along the beautiful Thames River
11) Booked a trip to Scotland for a week to go on a backpacking/bus tour. Awesome.
12) Booked a trip to Lithuania to visit my best friend the week after classes get out! More awesome. 


These are just some highlights that come to mind at the moment. It's starting to really hit me just how amazing and unique this experience is from anything I have even remotely done before. The university makes so many things and resources available to you-it is literally limitless. I live with amazing roommates, in a perfect location, in a shockingly beautiful city. I am able to choose the topics I want to study each week and am taught, one-on-one, by some of the most brilliant people I have ever met. I still walk down the street and have moments when I honestly cannot believe I am here. Even though I have months left here, I still get a little sad when I think about the fact that at some point I will have to leave. I can wholeheartedly, without any hesitation, say that I am completely and utterly in love with this place. 

Monday, January 24, 2011

Hopkins-inspired poem

Part of my poetry assignment for my second week was to write a poem inspired by the great Gerard Manley Hopkins. So, here it is:

THE SEA

Nothing is so lovely as the sea—
Where above the sun rises and reddens and rests;
Dolphins dance atop rolling, rhythmic waves, and guests
Of a breathtaking ballet we be,
Gladly; as spoken song in baby’s bin softly
Moms sing, its liquid melodies these ears infests,
Stirring, soothing this heart, ignoring protests
With deep breathes out, in: the wave ashore breaks boldly.

Oh! How wondrous the crafter of such a creature!
By it faint echoes of Thy warm whisper beckons,
Like a church bell, my soul to its Savior.
Soft ripples turning and twirling awakens
My heart, drawing me nearer when too far I wander,
In His presence, largely my burden lessens.