Monday, February 27, 2006

[I Wanna Start the Day Over]

I got off to a great start today. Anticipating my 10:30 French test and Creative Writing annotated bibliographies due, as well as a very necessary shower, I set my alarm for 6 a.m. This morning, feeling somewhat rested, I stretched sleepily and looked at the clock.


"Aw, come on, God, that just isn't fair!" Yeah, I know, He didn't cause me to turn the thing off in my sleep. Still, I said it. Anyway, the rest of the day basically fell in the same rut. The test wasn't horrible, but I know I would've done better had I gotten to study. At lunch, I somehow felt isolated, so I left early. I know it was no one's doing, but I felt shunted nonetheless.

Anyway, I've managed to finish and send on annotated bibliography. The other one, I'll start on tonight and get up around 7:00 (setting two alarms this time) and finish.

Oh, shoot! it's after nine! Time to call my parents! Dang, I forgot. Anyway, that was my day if you care.

Much love.

Friday, February 24, 2006


Edit: Cleaned-up image.

I think I'm eventually going to get a tattoo. Yeah, me. Not right away... I've been considering it for a year or so, and I plan to consider it for another year or so to be sure it's not some "I want to participate in the trend" thing. But if I do (Andrea, remember this... and what we discussed!), I think I'm going to get something that roughly looks like this image I did on paint. Obviously, the lines will be much cleaner. But you get the general idea.

Maybe for my 24th birthday (that age is wayyyy too soon for comfort... dang).

Thursday, February 23, 2006


Ok, so I definitely went to bed last night at 10:45 or so, and I definitely did not fall asleep until around 3:45.

This is getting rather nuts. I think it's time to invest in Unisom or something.

[Laptops in Writing Class]

I've started a trend. Me. I've actually started a trend.

*manic giggle*

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

[Locks of Love]

I promise, I'm not telling you this to brag about what a "good person" I am or draw attention to the fact... more to warn you if you see me after Saturday. Niki having no hair may be alarming to unsuspecting friends.

I'm gonna chop it off. My hair is just long enough (and thankfully thick enough, so to make up for the shorter hairs) that I can donate it to Locks of Love. They're having a fundraiser and hair-donation time on Saturday, from 10:00-1:00 in Ryle Hall. I encourage you to at least give a five dollar donation and get a trim.

This organization really hits close to my heart. As you may know, my [biological] mom died from the effects of spinal cord cancer (after she'd defeated it) at 26 years old... my cousin Stephanie died of a brain tumor at nine, less than a month before her tenth birthday... my Aunt Carolyn died of lung cancer... my cousin Karyl has leukemia... my dad may have cancer (he finds out for sure next month)... I had a cancer scare two years ago (turns out it was nothing)... another of my cousins found out a couple weeks ago that she has ovarian cysts...

I confess it's a hard thing for me to do, giving up my hair. There honestly is not much I can truly say that I like about my appearance, but my hair is one of the few things. But I can bear to give up this trivial vanity when I think about what cancer has done in my life and the lives of those I love. Because of cancer, I'll never see my mom, my aunt, or my cousin again in this lifetime.

Good-bye hair, in honor of my mom, Stephanie, and Aunt Carolyn... someone needs you a heck of a lot more than I do.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

[Creative Non-Fiction: The Humor Episode]

I'm loving writing in this blog again... the colors rock my face off.

We're discussing humorous writing in class right now. I wrote a rough draft for a travel essay, and I think it ended up being at least light-hearted. I'd love feedback on it because I may use it for a final essay in this class. Here it is (remember, rough draft):

My parents and I often see the world in very different lights. Ok, I know... who doesn’t? One thing that makes our relationship unique is that they’re not just my parents, but they’re also my grandparents.
Ok, stop. I know what you’re thinking, and no. We don’t come from the back hills of who-knows-where in the boondocks, and I’m not some crazy educated hick. It’s not a case of I married my brother, got divorced and had my cousin’s grandbabies. Or something. I’m actually adopted.
There... breathe easy now. It just sounds weirder than it is.
The point is, our generation gap has brought to our attention some very differing opinions on life and has resulted in some rather... heated discussions. A couple of these topics have covered the hypothetical boy I will bring home (assuming I ever have the opportunity of course). Mom has emphatically insisted, since I was a small child, that if ever I brought home a gent with long hair, she’d be after the poor creature with a pair of shears before he set foot on our porch. And earrings. Oh, dear. She also insists that the first boy who comes to pick me up wearing an earring, she is yanking it out of his lobe. And Daddy-o has not exactly disagreed.
Is it any wonder I haven’t dated yet?
Still, in spite of these differences, they’ve made some significant strides into more tolerant views of the world, thanks to a few interesting encounters with some good, unconventional men.
When I was fourteen, we made the promised pilgrimage to Hawaii, which had been in the works, more or less, since I’d been about five years old. Naturally, I had the time of my life, but that has no bearing to my story.
Anyway, the Sunday morning we were still in Waikiki, we decided to rest on the beach instead of going to church (I don’t really remember our justification... probably something heathenish). We got up around nine in the morning and headed to a nearby Jack-In-The-Box for a scrumptious, greasy breakfast.
As we walked in the door, I saw the familiar tense look on Dad and the Momster’s faces.... that look of “ugh, look at that lazy, long-haired pillock” kind of—no, ok, wait. Pillock? My parents using that word? Please. Let me try that again. “ugh, what a stringy-haired, lazy-ass bum.” Yeah, that sounds more accurate. Anywho... in the center of the restaurant sat a stereotypical surfer dude: long, shaggy blond hair, surfer tee, holey board shorts, and [Birkenstocks] on feet packed with probably about five years of sand.
I could see it in their eyes... I could almost hear the thoughts of, "Too lazy for a haircut, too much a bum to take a decent shower..." I winced.
Then this gentleman, who sat with a small flock of fellow surfers, pulled out a Bible and began a sermon. That’s right, the man was a Bible study leader. And one with a truly admirable passion for the Word at that. I sat and silently cheered as he encouraged his group to question and grow in their faith... and I saw Jesus in this rebel of polite society.
The image has stuck with me ever since... sitting and listening to a surfer share the Word in the middle of a fast-food restaurant within 50 feet of the beach. I don’t think Mom and Dad have forgotten either, because even though they still get tense at the idea of an unconventional man, they haven’t threatened violent protection of me from such characters since that day. Then again, maybe they don't remember, and they've just learned with time to hold off a bit on the labeling. Still, I'm feeling a bit hesitant to get that pretty little cross tattooed on my shoulder blade just yet... and I think I'll hold off on the little nose piercing. For awhile, anyway...

[Get up and what?]

I think my get-up-and-go for today got up and went. I need to be out of the house in half an hour, and I'm sitting here in my jammies in my unmade bed, placidly nibbling on a chimichanga and trying to remember what my name is. I definitely slept about eight hours last night, but it honestly feels like four. My one consolation is that I have no activities tonight. Which brings me to my morning ponder...

Why is our culture so obsessed with being busy all the time? Colleges and employers are looking for students with both good grades and an extracurricular list a mile long. Why does it look lazy for me to take 12 hours of classes and only have one activity? I'm not [usually] lazy, I just know my energy limits... and when I don't know, I learn quickly. Even [and maybe especially] in the Christian culture, where we read in Scriptures where it says "Be still and know that I am God," we expect ourselves and one another to be doing something every minute of every day. Heck, even Jesus had to rest, and He did. He stepped away... He slept in the boat... He spent time listening instead of doing. I want to break out of this mindset of chaos, but I know one thing. It's hard to do one thing when all your upbringing and present influences are encouraging you (even if not in words) to do the other.

Monday, February 20, 2006

[I Hate Mondays]

Seriously, Mondays are too long (this semester at least). Boo.

Some quotage from 11:30 Time:
Jeremy Jordan: "You're prostituting your palate!!!!"

Ok, this is weirding me out... how did I suddently go from being significantly younger to the same age or more often older than many of these Olympic competitors? So freakin' weird.


I've decided, sans feedback, to return. Apparently blogger has made some vast improvements over the past couple years... in other words, trying to post a blog no longer ends up infuriating me. Meanwhile, I've got more room to be creative than with xanga (sorry fans) and blogdrive (not that anyone reads my blog there anyway).

Besides, blogger was my first, not just blog, but website period. [See, those of you who think I can't stay in one spot? I'm restless, but not that restless.]

Furthermore, I think it'll be good for me not to be expect people to read my oh-so-tantalizing thoughts *cough*. Maybe I'll stop being such a dummy about anticipating others' positive reviews. Oh, and also, it's nice to have comments without that whole "eprops" deal.

Well, I got up early for a reason, and it wasn't to blog. Homework needs to be completed before class... bleh.

[Hymns that hit the spot]

My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine;
For Thee all the follies of sin I resign.
My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

I love Thee because Thou has first loved me,
And purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree.
I love Thee for wearing the thorns on Thy brow;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

I’ll love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death,
And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath;
And say when the death dew lies cold on my brow,
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

In mansions of glory and endless delight,
I’ll ever adore Thee in heaven so bright;
I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save
'Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
'Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand

Sunday, February 19, 2006


I think I might come back. Mebbe. Just mebbe.

Your feedback will choose for me.

Also, tell me if I ought to pick a new template. I'm contemplating the option.