poetically shoeless.

Creative People.

Ok, y’all. So here’s what has been making me laugh lately.

As you may or may not know, I am an English - Creative Writing major. It was a little bit of a journey to get here from Nursing, but that’s whole ‘nother box of teapots. Being an English major is phenomenal. I’m not sure if you’ve ever considered it, but here are some of the highlights:

• Multiple choice tests are practically non-existent! Don’t hear me say I’m against absolutism, but for the most part, multiple choice tests just get me nervous. The all-or-no credit for a question… #intimidating
• Superb & enriching lingo! Literary criticism is super pretentious (p.s. I’m 99% sure that if one uses the word “pretentious,” …one is. Oops.): monosyllabic, jarring, susurrus, philosophy of fiction, ethereal. All words I’ve used this week. Plus, you get to be well-versed in Frost, Roethke, Hardy, Milton, Yeats, Blake, and other phenomenal writers of bygone decades. You have a 75% chance of successfully conversing with a hipster or your money back.
• No labs! Dude. What. Could. Be. Better!? No calculators, no chemicals, no milliliters, no graph paper. Aspiring money-makers need not apply.
• Which is more creative: the writing or the writers? Seriously. The people—classmates, TAs, professors—I get to rub shoulders with on a daily basis positively: A.) entertain me B.) make me laugh C.) stone-cold weird me out D.) deepen and stretch the way I look at the world both around me & far away from me E.) all of the above. E. All of the above. And this, my friends, is the point on which I would like to expand upon this evening.

Today I had a meeting with my TA, John. He’s funny and weird and has been to Ireland and plays video games. Tell me about it. We were going over some of my revisions from this semester, and I asked him how if he e-v-e-r stops revising his poems and lets them be, completely, utterly, splendidly perfect. Finished. He said no, he can’t leave them alone; he always has either a discontentment about its lack of perfection or has a sudden, striking epitome on how to make it perfect-er. In his schpeel about revising, though, he started one of his sentences with this phrase: “However, it depends on your philosophy of poetry—like if you’re pursuing poetry as a lifestyle….” And I abruptly lost attention to what he was saying because, whoa, I am certainly not pursuing poetry as a lifestyle.

That’s just a funny way to define the word “lifestyle.” 

And on a scale of 1-10, how ambitious do you have to be to be pursuing poetry as a lifestyle? Y’all! Life is so exciting. There are things to ponder that I have not yet pondered. When the circumference of my knowledge meets the expanse of what I have not yet discovered, there is a myriad of mysteries to be grappled with. And if I can get seconds, yes and amen.

Later on in the day, I had Fiction (ENGL 3213) with an incredible professor whom I have really enjoyed this semester. She’s a published author one of those “Wait, what exactly are you doing in Arkansas?” types. She could definitely be almost anywhere in the world, and yet here she is(here’s her website, if ya curious: www.padmaviswanathan.com). Anyway, today was our last class of the semester and she pulled a class-act Writer move on the class. We didn’t have any reading to do for today, and even though it’s a three hour class, she only kept us for an hour. During that hour, she gave us the sweetest, most inspiring pep-talk possible for a room of halfsy-kinda-maybe aspiring writers. She told us her journey to becoming a writer, her journey to getting published, etc etc etc. She read us quotes about the unfettered beauty that can only be achieved through culture, art, literature. She reminded us that when others look down on writers and say, “Couldn’t you do something to earn a little more money?” that money is not the most important thing in the world.

Preach it, Padma. I’m loving this! You’ve got a room of absolutely-nothing-stopping-us-now aspiring writers hanging on your every word!

And then, she said something that struck a chord even deeper than anything else. I don’t think it would have made much of a difference to anyone else in the class; who knows, maybe it did. It wasn’t the main point of her talk, but it’s the thing I remember most.

Most people think of themselves as protagonists in the world around them. Readers, however, and writers alike have learned to see that oftentimes we are the not the protagonists but the minor characters.

Doesn’t that just totally resonate with you? At first glance, it sounds a bit lugubrious. After all, if it’s #YOLO indeed, then who wants to be a minor character?

Of course, of course, small one. Isn’t it funny how we feel so entitled?

Not that life isn’t abundant for disciples of Jesus. It totally is. John 10:10. Psalm 16:11.

However, it’s good to be reminded that life isn’t about me.

Jeff Lewis, talking about John 3:16, challenged a group to not only put their name in the verse.

Yes, Jesus did die for your sins personally. But the word? The Greek word? Kosmos—κόσμος—the rebellious world. If I belong to Christ, that’s not me anymore. This verse is about the love God has for His enemies. Who are His enemies right now? Not me. Not you.

If Lecrae’s “Background” isn’t playing in the back of your mind right now, bless your heart. It’s a beautiful song, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since Fiction class. 

Galatians 2:20. John 12:24. One my favorite sermons on this isn’t really even a sermon at all — it’s a story. “Suffering & Success in the Life of Adoniram Judson: The Cost of Bringing Christ to Burma,” a message brought to you by Pastor John Piper.

The second title of this sermon:

How Few There Are Who Die So Hard.

O, the creativity of a God who puts His abundant life in us. O, how few there are who die so hard.

Things For Which

Things For Which I Would Like to Give Thanks:

1. Weekends
2. Sheep
3. Electricity
4. Nights of 6+ hours of sleep
5. One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful”
6. Translating & Singing-at-the-top-of-my-lungs One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful” into Chinese with Hui Pin (你不知道，你不知道你漂亮)
7. Thomas Hardy
8. Near-explosive-fires
9. The ever-approaching summer
10. Theraflu
11. Eyebrow clippers
12. New Heights Church
13. My insanely incredible family
14. The Word
15. Accents
16. Friendz
17. Librarios & zee books dat feell dem
18. Jeff Long & The Portrayal of Integrity in the Limelight
19. My cray-cie seester, Caroline
20. StuMo
21. Gardenias & a nose by which to smell them
22. White Vermont cheddar cheese & tastebuds by which to enjoy it
23. Rain & skin by which to feel it
24. Good, brave literature & eyes by which to read it
25. Laughter & ears by which to hear it
26. Brownie-mix that didn’t quite make it out of the bowl and into the oven
27. Friday nights to sit alone, be alone, smile alone, laugh alone, learn alone.
28. People
29. Outside; e.g., Wilson Park
30. Fayetteville Prayer Room
31. How fun it is to dream big
32. Pinterest, for teaching me how to be fashionable
33. Dogs dogs dogs dogs dogs
34. Colors
35. Colored-jeans
36. Toothpaste
37. Fun shoes & a TJ Maxx at which to find them
38. Promises
39. Secrets
40. Encouragement
41. Residents who whistle walking up and down the staircase right by my door
42. Good questions & the people who ask them
43. The world & a brain by which to explore it
44. 7th Grade Keyboarding Class
45. Songs & a larynx by which to sing them (albeit, not well)
46. Coincidences
47. Witty comments & twitty tweets
48. William Shakespeare
49. Stamps with pretty paintings of bonzai trees on them
50. Spring, spring, spring.

Writers Write

Conrad Aiken worked at a refectory table in the dining room; Robert Graves wrote in a room furnished only with objects made by hand. Ernest Hemingway wrote standing up; D. H. Lawrence under a tree. William Maxwell preferred “small messy rooms that don’t look out on anything interesting.” Katherine Anne Porter said she got her writing done in the country, where she lived like a hermit. Ben Franklin wrote in the bathtub, Jane Austen amid family life, Marcel Proust in the confines of his bed. Balzac ate an enormous meal at five in the evening, slept till midnight, then got up and wrote at a small desk in his room for sixteen hours straight, fueled by endless cups of coffee. Toni Morrison found refuge in a motel room when her children were small; E. B. White sought it in a cabin on the shore. Due to her problem back, Penelope Lively works in an armchair, with an “ancient electronic typewriter” on her lap, while A. L. Kennedy finds comfort in a “monster black chair” in a room “the color of blood.”

November is my Neighbor

Dearest readers,

My sincere apologies. It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it? I suppose if one is not intentional about keep one’s blog updated, the days zip by unwritten about. It’s a discipline to keep a record of reflections, that much I can testify to.

The elephant in the room now dissipated, what I’d love to do is include a few highlights of what has been going on in the Promised Land (=Fayetteville, Arkansas). I mean, seriously, it’s beautiful here. Definitely holy ground if you ask me:

Breath-taking autumn splendor as seen in Wilson Park, Fayetteville AR. Naturally.

Photo updates are always the best, am I correct? A gargantuanly gorgeous life-blessing was baptizing Jordan at New Heights this past Sunday. She is such a stud, a woman who loves Jesus sacrificially and is learning to follow Him with all that she is. She’s also memorizing the book of Ephesians right now and leading a Bible study in her dorm. #ilovehersomuch

Dude. Happy happy day. 2 Corinthians 5:21. We don’t deserve new life, but He gives it & gives it abundantly.

My sister was in a play! She played (drumroll please) Martha Brewster, one of the main characters—and also a very old lady—in Arsenic & Old Lace. Seriously, she blew me away like the gusty Antarctican wind. I was sitting in the audience, only in attendance to the shining star herself. The play doesn’t start out with her on stage; she makes her appearance about ten minutes into the first act. True to Aristotilian belief, my disbelief was fully suspended within a handful of lines. I’m engaged in this story, and then out of nowhere, I was jolted back to reality as I did a double-take that that is my sister! That’s my sister! Fellow audience members, keep your eye on that one, she rocks! Here’s a picture of her with full-funny makeup.

Earlier this month, I saw a deer running full speed ahead at my car with the sun-setting pristine light swaddling his regal nature in an unforgettable awe-striking minute. I kind of drove all around out of my way just to watch him more and more, and I’m glad I did. This is not a picture of him, but it’s a picture deer, which are beautiful if you ask me.

Lee Epstein compared the church in Acts to a wild buck. I think it makes a lot of since. Also, Psalm 42:1.

It’s Thanksgiving break, and the end is in sight! Here are some books that I am super stoked to begin/revisit/finish:

(& the rest of the series for that matter)

….and hopefully a lot of great others, too.

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies,” said Jojen. “The man who never reads lives only one.”  -George R. R. Martin

Til next time, which is hopefully a soon time, dear friends.