This was meant for another medium, but due to some difficulties, I will store it here for the time being.

I have yet to give an update since I have arrived in Boston, and though my life has not been too eventful, I suppose that after a week and a half I have amassed enough to share.

It seems fitting to start with today, then to follow absolutely no pattern until have imparted all that I can think to share.

Church. The word was always meant as a body of people, not as a building, and today, I was again blessed in my life to meet another church that truly embodied what it was meant to be. As I walked inside, I was greeted by so many people, who not only said hello and shook my hand, but also introduced themselves and asked my name. The line of greeters pointed slightly towards the stairs, and I accidentally wandered up the stairs after the couple in front of me (who apparently were going upstairs in order to drop their daughter off in the children's service). At this point I was very confused, as I had not seen the door to the sanctuary on my way in. I stood there stupidly for a few short moments, which, as these things go, felt like they filled more time than the clock seems to allot them. A woman approached me, at which point I surrendered to my confusion and declared, “I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be.” She smiled and introduced herself and showed me to the sanctuary. I sat down alone, and as soon as my onetime guide observed this, she invited me to sit with her and her husband. To shorten what threatens to become a lengthy account, within 10 minutes of walking in the door, I had met at least half the church. By the end of the service, I had held hands with a woman in prayer, met another quarter of the church, been given the nick-name Kate Jr., and been given every possible reason to feel loved and at home. After the service, I met most of the rest of the congregation and had so many people come and talk to me that I did not leave for at least another forty minutes.

And they shall know we are Christians by our love, by our love. They shall know that we are Christians by our love.

It was the body. It was genuine. And it was beautiful.

Home. For some reason, that term is not sitting with me right in this place. I suppose it takes longer in some places than others. Is it strange that the place that felt most like home to me was the place I have lived in the shortest? Sebring felt like home. I suppose I left too much behind.

I am one mattress short of being completely settled into my new apartment. Furniture-wise, I came with one bookshelf; another was already here for me (my birthday present from my sister and Josh). They are letting me use one of their nightstands, and my useless bed frame (I hear they aren't much good without a mattress) is waiting patiently in the basement. (at the risk of over-using the convention of parenthesis, I would like to clarify that the reason I call my bed frame patient is because I don't believe that inanimate objects have any reason to be termed impatient, except maybe in the case of the doorbell; those are impatient little buggers).

So I sleep on my cot, hoping that I find a good deal on a mattress soon, slightly comforted by the added homeyness given by my yard sale acquisitions of a chair ($1) and a sewing table ($25). Speaking of yard sales, I also bought a breadmaker ($5), with which I hope to redeem the institution of gluten-free bread.

The two major things on my needs list are a bed and a job. Please pray for the latter. The wants list includes slippers and friends. Again, if you would pray for the latter.

I am lonely. If I called my friends as much as I wish I could, they would probably start screening my calls. Also, I'm not sure if this is true of anyone else, but sometimes I do not call because I have nothing to share, and I fear that if I call too often with nothing to say, people won't want to call me. And I'm emotionally drained. Fun fact: I do not initiate conversation when I am emotionally drained, although I do welcome it (albeit sometimes grudgingly).

Church today was the first time I have met anyone since I've been here, and I suppose it is a start.

Currently Listening The Question By Emery see related

Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow.
James M. Barrie

It is hard for us to realize the joy that can come from love. Whether brotherly love or romantic love, there can be joy that is not dependant on reciprocation. When I truly care for people, I love to see them happy. Even if they do not love me in the way I think they should, or the way i want, I feel a sense of fulfilment when I know I brought a smile to their face. I feel happy knowing that I encouraged them.

Especially in the arena of romance, it is very difficult not to be discouraged when your love (or 'like') is unrequited. When our needs are not being met (or not being met in the ways we think they ought), it is easy to dwell on what we want out of love. We want to feel needed, we want to feel special, we want everything from this to that. What we need is to learn a  selfless love. it is then that love will have its rainbow.

I am not saying that i have mastered the art of selflessness, but I have learned a lot in the past couple months. I have learned about my own propensity toward selfish behavior, I have learned to check my motives, I have learned that I am loveable, I have learned to love in a more selfless manner than what I am used to. I have found so much joy in making others smile (and I, for the longest time resented that I am funny). I found joy in comforting others, in counseling others. I've even found joy in getting laughed at, because I enjoyed seeing those people who laughed at me happy more than I valued my pride and dignity.

I have learned much, and these lessons are ones that i hope will stick. I think I can even go so far as to say that i have learned to love. I'm not sure i knew how before. I'm not in love, but I love. and i now know how to give love. I am 'in like'. And as much as it would hurt to never have these feelings returned, i have finally found, that it is worth it. Love is worth the pain.

Maybe that explains why God created us with free will, even though he knew we would slap him in the face through the collective fall of man, and our own personal falls and failings. Because love is worth the pain.

I realized tonight, I am no longer afraid of love. Come what may, love or friendship.

Currently Listening A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar By Dashboard Confessional see related

I've been thinking on the past a lot recently. I've been thinking about the ups and downs, and the moments that could be so easily forgotten, in fact, the moments that are most days forgotten. And, I've been thinking about the lessons that are forgotten with them.

It is very easy for me to forget about when my dad had cancer. I was young, and the fact that he has been completely healed of it lets such a tenuous time slip into the background. I remember when my aunts shaved his head. I remember going to the hospital and eating italian ice with him. I remember the hospital bed in the living room, but it is so easy to forget. Such a scary time surprisingly leaves only a tiny print on this life's canvas.

I'm starting to see life as a painting. It is a painting that is built of layers, layers of paint that are painted over so many times that the oldest ones often don't show, and it is hard to realize the role the oldest ones play. It is hard to believe that a canvas so often repainted would gain anything from the initial layers, but each layer adds a tint to the ending hue, and a texture to the ending effect.

The beginning shapes the end, and the painter can tell his/her critics and admirers what transpired in those initial layers, but neither the critic nor the admirer would be able to discern this from only witnessing the end result. It is up to the painter to decide what to reveal. It is up to us to decide what we let others know.

We get to choose who we let into our journey, our painting. There are some in life whom we regret that they missed any of our journey, so we do our best to recall if for them. there are some layers that we regret, but once the paint is applied, it will leave its mark, no matter how fast we try to wipe it out.

We find comfort in shared memories. We want life to be full of people that we can say, "remember the time when..." to. We love shared experiences. Why else do we go to movies (places where we aren't supposed to talk, though some do any way) with others? We go because we want to be able to talk to them about it later. We want to have someone to make eye contact with while we laugh. A good movie is a great thing, but often, we value it as less if the experience lacked human interaction.

We are meant for relationship, whether that means marriage or friendship, we need community.

When I was young, I loved Peter Pan. I used to run around the house, trying to quote him, but due to my limited vocabulary, failing miserably. My hero, peter, yelled, "i'm Peter Pan the avenger!" I yelled, "I'm Peter Pan the oven door!" Lesson learned: hearing and understanding are two very different things.

When I was 3, I had the joy of becoming a big sister. I remember hovering over the crib with the 3 year old mindset of, 'make it do a trick.' It didn't, but she was fascinating anyway. Lesson learned: I'm honestly not sure.

When I was 4, I threw stuffed animals at Laura's door for at least an hour because she had a friend over, and in all her 6 year old glory, she was too cool to hang out with her silly little sister. I was so sad to learn that she would move on without me. I eventually learned that friends don't have to be exclusive.

I remember when my dad traveled, and my mom would always mark on a map of the U.S. where he was that week.

I remember practicing awana songs at the piano in our house in maine.

Sometimes, knowing people who don't know these things scares me. I know people who don't know that Laura and I found a new barbie hat in the laundry room near christmas and thought the elves were taunting us. we checked that laundry room everyday after that. sometimes we'd find stuff. That seems so unbelievable to me, that my friends don't know these silly things. It is easy to forget that people don't have the same experiences as me.

I think the best thing about marriage must be making a commitment to a lifetime of shared memories. You have someone who sees the moments that push you to grow, someone to say, "remember when..." to. someone to make eye contact with during movies. someone to remember.

The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.
James M. Barrie

Some days, when I am particularly conscious of my life and the imprint it could possibly make on the world, and especially to those who are close to me, I ponder how close the volume I write will actually be to my pre-writing. I wonder if my story will be richer for its deviance from the story I meant to write, or if it will suffer for the alterations that I did not intend.

It is for the best, I believe, that the story will not be written in the way I would write it. As a selfish human being, it seems probable that the story I mean to write would turn out to be a melodramatic atrocity, akin to a soap opera. I believe that we all, to some degree, fashion ourselves to be the hero/heroine of our own stories. If our lives matched our pre-writing, we would all eat barbed wire for breakfast, leap tall buildings in a single bound and save Timmy without even consulting Lassie. In the stories we fashion for our selves, we would achieve all our goals, rather than occasionally failing in order to realize new ones.

I am sure that one day I will be ashamed of some pages or chapters of my story. There are already some paragraphs and pages that I wish I could unwrite. There will be more lines in this vein, and this is certain, as much as i wish it otherwise. I hope that these twists and obstacles will cause my character to develop in addition to one day serving me my share of humility.

I, on an unforgettable day in my seventh year, vowed to make my volume depict the will of my sovereign, the one called 'I am'. It will be a humble day when what I intended meets my life recorded, but I strive to rise when I stumble and make amends for my faults. My greatest prayer is that my vow to I am will be fulfilled during my times of strength and times of weakness. The reality is that what I mean to write will likely go unwritten, however, this will not plague me if I learn the lessons of I am, and I complete the volume well. I desire desperately to hear the words one day, "well done, good and faithful servant."

Although I shall mean to write one story but write another, I desire that the story I write, however different  from what I intended, still manages to accomplish what I vowed: to live a life of service for and by the grace of the triune God.

last night a new but good friend of mine asked me a hard question. I admitted confusion about guys, ok, a guy. She asked: do you believe that a guy could be interested in you? I knew the answer without needing to think or hesitate. I answered: no.

I have a history of being asked out by creepy people I don't really know. this trend does not exactly do anything to inspire confidence. Never once have I known of anyone that I knew, let alone respected, who was interested in me. This, obviously, does not give me much reason to be filled with confidence.

This brought advent to the onesided relationship. I started to like guys that I only knew at a distance, acquaintances that I was too afraid to actually get to know, and I passed my time liking them from a distance. I invested my emotions in people I knew that i would never know. I am sure that in some ways this hurts more, and in some ways it hurts less.

I am the friend, always the friend. am I to be content with this role, or am I one day supposed to have a different one?

I suppose i chase people away, but once I started running, I learned that it is hard to stop. I am running from things past, and it looks to those present as if i am chasing them away.

A flaw: I often joke about the things that most unsettle me, I do not see romantic relationships as something to be flippantly dismissed. The prospect just unsettles me. I must joke about it.