The Life of Cate

The Inevitable Parting of Ways

2006-10-17T13:18:00.000-07:00

This blog has been good to me. I began it after a hard break-up, hoping it would assist me in developing my hobbies to the point that I didn't realize I was lonely. While it didn't quite achieve that goal, it did give me a wonderful forum in which to expres my thoughts, stretch my creative writing, celebrate my life, and even air a few grievences with the world.

Despite all this, it has come time for me to retire onlytrying. I needed my own domain to further my interess and hobbies, and Amanda Mae and I have been discussing some big plans for my new digital home.

This new home would be Miss Cate dot Com. For a while it will be the standard fair you've grown to expect and/or detest here, but I have high hopes for its future. Please update your links accordingly, and I will see you on the other side.

Love,
Cate

Debt Free in Ten Easy Steps

2006-09-26T12:09:00.000-07:00

Somehow since I graduated from college (a mere three months ago) I have acquired a surprising amount of credit cards. This I attribute in part to the sheer number of offers I received in the mail. It was like the creditors saw the 22 year old with a regular pay check and a clean credit record and said to themselves, "Boys, what we have here is an easy target." And they were right.

I also attribute it to going to Biola. I subsisted for most of my undergraduate career on $150 dollars a month, since the rest of my pay check went to the big bank account in the sky that helped pay for my private education. I look back at these days in awe and wonderment at how I managed to pay for all my clothes, movies, hair products (man I buy a lot of hair products), make-up and more on this tiny, insignificant, ridiculously inadequate amount of money. It was this paltry sum of money that convinced me during my junior year to teach 30 7th graders why grammar is important at 8:00 in the morning (and if I knew why grammar was important then maybe that sentence wouldn't sound like grammar is only important at 8:00 in the morning).

Anyways, back to the issue at hand. After surviving for four years off of a very limited bank account and praying every day that I would not commit the dreaded sin of overdrawing, credit cards seemed like a gift from the gods. And indeed they are. The pagan gods who also force people to jump into volcanoes and sacrifice their first born.

The rest of this post was originally top secret information to be concealed from the parents at all costs as I was raised in the church of "Never, ever, ever, ever get into debt on your credit cards, ever", but what the hell; I am an adult. An irresponsible one, but one none the less.

I originally got a credit card in order to help finance living in England and for emergencies. It had six months of free interest, and so functioned like a savings account in reverse: money that just sat there without any penalties, waiting to be paid back. Then the day came that I would have to pay it back. This also happened to be the day I needed to pay for summer school, put down my first month's rent on my own room, and begin saving for a down payment to start graduate school. Before I knew it I had another, better card with no interest for 15 months and I merely transferred the balance from the now expensive card to the free one and congratulated myself (probably rewarding my financial prowess by buying something, which was the worst possible choice in that situation).

Fast forward to today. With the help of the federal government (who knew they would come in handy someday?), school costs are taken care of, and without the help of the federal government, I have been receiving regular, wonderful paychecks every two weeks since June 15th. Unfortunately, I also have four credit cards now. It is getting out of control. I am to the point that I refuse to open rectangular envelopes for fear of the offers inside.

It took me about 3 hours this weekend, but with the help of some remaining student loan money, an enormous expense reimbursement check, my savings account, and those glorious pay checks, I can pay off all credit cards this week. All of them. Every Freaking One. This will leave me with approximately 2 dollars, but it will also get me out of this period of credit card mania without ever having paid interest or late fees (a gift from God. The good one who doesn't like his believers in volcanoes). I've rarely done so much math in my life, and Mr. Carlson, if you are reading this, balancing credit card bills with your bank account would be a much more helpful topic than Mayan math.

So now the question is, to cut or not to cut? Do I keep my four hard earned cards in case I need to by something really really expensive and vitally important (I'm not sure what this would be [maybe a robot body guard in case of impending anarchy?])? Or do I let them all go but one, guard its balance like a jealous boyfriend, and rejoin society and my family as a contributing member?

Someday I will tell you about that time the federal collections agency was notified about my overdue video rental, but that is another financial disaster story for another day.

This is just to get Andrew to blog...

2006-09-21T12:10:00.000-07:00

I am writing an article for the upcoming issue of The Symposium, Torrey Honor's somewhat quarterly publication. This issue is on the Inklings who apparently don't each warrant their own issue the way Lewis or Tolkien did, namely Charles Williams, Dorothy Sayers, and G.K Chesterton.

When they asked me to contribute I told them I wanted to write about the writers' fiction and why it is a really good thing to write smart fiction. But you see, my mind is being molded by spiritual formation classes each week, so I can't help thinking about people's souls all the time. Thus, during a Dallas Williard lecture the title came to me for my article:

An Exhortation to Good Fiction: Creative Writing as a Window to the Whole Soul

If that doesn't make their little Torrey Hearts cry out in joy, I don't know what will.

Books

2006-09-18T08:21:00.000-07:00

Tagged by Brad and self-manipulated into posting because I have nothing thoughtful to say at present.

1. One book that changed your life - The Iliad. It was my introduction to real education as a freshman in high school and shaped what I want to do for the rest of my life (and it is not wage war against the Trojans, in case that is what you were thinking)

2. One book that you've read more than once – Little Women

3. One book you'd want on a desert island - What's that old joke about the Guide to Ship Building...

4. One book that made you laugh out loud – The Code of the Woosters, by P.G. Woodehouse

5. One book that made you cry – A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens

6. One book that you wish had been written – I wish Keats had lived past the age of 26. He became a staple of the English cannon and a powerful force in the Romantic movement, and never even saw his 30 birthday. Imagine what he had yet to write!

7. One book you wish had never been written – Most of what stocks the shelves of Christian book stores.

8. One book you're currently reading– Renovation of the Heart by Dallas Williard for school, The Mating Season by P.G. Woodehouse for fun.

9. One book you've been meaning to read - At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald and A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline Le'Engle

On Horses

2006-09-05T11:19:00.000-07:00

Being homeschooled and introverted, I developed many hobbies as a kid. I sang at church and participated in years of piano lessons, as well as dabbled in drawing, poetry writing, and play production with my little sisters. All these however paled in comparison to a passion that would go on to consume my teenage years.

When I was nine years old I developed a seemingly instantaneous and overwhelming adoration of horses. I to this day cannot remember what initially brought this on, as I was living a relatively horse-free existence in the middle of suburban Southern California. Whatever brought it on, it came on strong. I was soon voraciously reading everything about horses I could get my hands on. I saved up to buy horse-themed magazines from the grocery store (Equus was a favorite because it was so very serious and professional). I bought out-dated horse calendars and ripped all the pictures out to hang on my wall, and began amassing a collection of Breyer model horses (the best kind). I begged for riding lessons and my parents tried to placate me, assuming this obsession would soon go the way of most young girl's love of horses and be replaced by a desire to look pretty and get a boyfriend. This, however, did not happen.

By the time I was ten I had acquired my first horse and started boarding her at a friend's. Soon there were two, then three, and then a house in the country where we could keep them all ourselves. After years of second-hand saddles, even older horses, and countless lessons, trainers, and dollars, I found myself at fifteen with a beautiful personal arena, a competitive barrel-racing horse, a trailer, a lucrative riding lesson business, and very happy. Afton, her horse Abu, and my horse Joe and I spent weekend after weekend on three different competitive circuits and loved every minute of it. I remember by Junior year of high school when we were at our best, girls would start complaining and sometimes even crying when they saw our trailer pull up. They knew we would kick their little 4-H asses.

When my Dad got involved, we added a different element into our competitive horse lives. Dad liked to trail ride, and not just the wimpy trails around our house in the Wine Country. He got his friend Bud involved, and pretty soon we were all hauling our horses up and down mountains and riding for days with only what our horses and one uncharacteristicly small mule could carry. These rides were invaluable to me in the way I looked at horses. What was first an obsession had become a sport and a job. My horse was an impressive athlete, but his mind had been lost with too much work and way too much speed. When we got out onto a mountain trail we both settled down and enjoyed the scenery and each other. He got to be a real, useful animal, who I needed to get where I was going and home again, and he learned to trust me in the face of cliffs, bears, and the rushing rivers I was asking him to cross. He became my friend and fellow adventurer and we got to experience a side of nature that most people don't get to see.

When I went to school I had to leave the horses behind and concentrate on academics. For the first couple years I road on the weekends and on summer vacations, but it had gotten to the point recently where I would go for 6 months without sitting on a horse. Afton and I went to the Norco rodeo a few weeks ago, and since that time I couldn't get my horses out of my head. The holiday weekend and the visitation (in the non-ghostly sense of the word) of Heather Dodds gave me an opportunity to ride, and oh how I've missed it. The next night I went out again at dusk with Afton and we loped out to a vineyard. As night fell and the last traces of the sun went down behind the mountains between us and the coast, we road through the newly harvested vineyards, got chased by an angry coyote, and road home by the moon light. Our horses are a little older now, and we've been through so much with them that they are pure pleasure to ride now.

I remembered last night how peaceful the outdoors can be. I don't think you can experience natural beauty on a postcard or in a movie. You have to be really out in it to get it, and that's what horses have done for me. Despite finally being at the point in my life wherein I would in fact like to look pretty and have a boyfriend, I will never lose the love of horses instilled in me over the years.

A Discovery

2006-08-29T09:16:00.000-07:00

It is hard to feel like a proper theology student when it didn't even occur to you to bring your BIBLE to the first day of classes, and you have Justin Timberlake's "Sexy/Back" stuck in your head throughout the whole day.

Secret Books

2006-08-13T16:22:00.000-07:00

I have a secret drawer in the nightstand by my bed. There are things within it that no proper English major should have. This is where I keep my secret books.

When you've spent your college career reading the great classics of English literature, you aren't supposed to read the stuff Dr. Phil writes. One can't pick up Candace Bushnell when she is sitting next to the Brontes and the Brownings. It seems impossible to place a two hundred and thirty page novel about a fashion crises on your bookshelf next to War and Peace. You can't have Weisberger next to Wordswoth. This is when the secret book drawer becomes a necessity.

It started with a Dr. Laura book that I really wanted to read but couldn't imagine the mockery that would follow or the uncomfortable conversations with feminist friends as to why I owned a book that mentioned feeding husbands. Then my friend gave me a book I didn't want my sisters to read and the collection grew.

It has become a handy tool since, gradually amassing a diverse and strange collection. Someday I imagine this is where I will keep my complete collection of Rodgers and Hammerstien musicals and Sex and the City trivia.

And this brings me to another topic. If the whole point of this drawer was secrecy, then why am I writing about it on the internet? I was going to go somewhere with this question, but I don't have an answer, so I am going to get back to singing along with The Sound of Music.

An Old Friend

2006-08-11T13:04:00.000-07:00

Today Adam of Landsberg Co. brought me crayons. If this is a hint that our relationship should be fun and light, then I agree. But Adam, it is too early to talk about kids right now.

Rambling Thoughts from a Long Week

2006-08-05T00:03:00.000-07:00

At night I sit at my desk in the dark to write, but always have my laptop on my lap. Why, I often wonder, do I bother sitting at my desk?

I have been hanging with my nearly retired boss a lot lately, including a standing Wednesday night date in which all the girls from work go down to her place in at the Laguna Woods retirement community to watch Project Runway, eat pizza, spend the night and arrive late to work the next morning. Today we drove down to meet her at the pool. Laguna Woods is fiercely guarded by its volunteer security guards, and today I was met at the gate by a little old man in a tidy blue uniform. “What’s your name, young lady?” He asked as I rolled down my window. “I’m Cate,” I answered, knowing my name had been put on an entrance list that afternoon. “I’ve got a Catie. You her, Catie?” “Well, yes I guess so.” “Well, I’ve got to ask you now, are you a lady Catie? Is your past a little shady?” To which I answered, “Umm, uh I…” “Have a nice day, Catie”. This (and all the tidy landscaping) is one of the reasons I like hanging out in retirement communities.

I am really glad we have dogs at our house and I’ll tell you why. I don’t like the attitude of too many that says you must wait until you get married to settle into your home, get furniture and start a life. Too many people are waiting around for that undeniably momentous, but sometimes elusive occasion. Knowing I wanted to be someone who was in no rush to make such a life altering decision as connecting yourself to one person forever, I decided that my home here is as important as any I will someday make with a husband (if I do). I am glad my roommates seem to feel that way too, and we are perfectly happy to do such thing as buy dishes, couches and pets. Our dogs make our already tight little house a little more connected, a little more like home. Us girls may not have husbands or kids to look after, but we are doing pretty damn well at keeping us and our little furry friends happy and fed. Way to go, girls.

I really, really like my job. I did not see this coming.

Elves cleaned our house while we were all at work yesterday. I have rarely been so surprised and appreciative. They even left flowers and a note for us when we dragged our tired selves back home in the evening. Despite the note it took us all at least five minutes to realize that in fact none of us had cleaned and yet the house was spotless. Thank you, Elves, you are amazing friends.

A Matter of Perspective

2006-07-28T10:26:00.000-07:00

I have been keeping myself from posting about the war because it is a complicated and charged issue, and I usually don't write of such things here (or anywhere for that matter). However I have been thinking about it a lot lately and might as well express my thoughts. After days of reading CNN.com and listening to NPR I am blown away by the strange American perspective presented in these news outlets.

About a week or so ago when Israel really began its assault on Lebanon, I was listening to a fascinating interview between the host of Airtalk on NPR, a Strategist from the Israeli army, and an opinions editor for the LA Times. The Israeli officer was introduced first and gave a eloquent and interesting presentation of his side of the story. He spoke about the terror in which his country lives, why they need to stand up for themselves now, once and for all, and all the many precautions the military was taking to insure the safety of innocents as much as they could in war time. When the editor was announced I expected to hear a counter argument to the officer's claims, but I was greatly surprised. This man was a student of the history of war and had recently published a comprehensive history on the many forms of warfare throughout time. He was adamantly pro-Israel and worried that they were not being strong and forceful enough. He said that a nation cannot survive and its people prosper if they are not willing to defend themselves tooth and nail for their freedom and right to survive. He said this is exactly what Hezbollah was threatening, both to Israel AND the citizens of Lebanon itself. After both of these men spoke with force and intelligence on a matter of two nation's survival, the host says, "Yes, all this may be true, but what about the public relations battle that will inevitably ensue? Shouldn't Israel be worried about what people are thinking about them?" WHAT!? Public relations? Have we as a country so lost touch with real threats to peace and prosperity that we are more concerned with what Britain or the UN will think than what will help two entire people groups survive?

This morning when glancing through CNN before work I was again surprised to read a headline emblazoned across the page reading "12 Lebanese Confirmed Dead Since Israeli Bombings Began" right next to a picture of a bloody woman being pulled from a danger zone. Though every loss of life is incredibly tragic and twelve deaths mean twelve families devastated and 12 communities damaged, it also means that Israel has been cautious and careful. The number in total is closer to about 450, but even then I couldn't help but wonder at why we were not celebrating that it is only a small percentage of the population loosing their lives to such dangerous and terrible circumstances. We are able to count each person who has died, a luxery not often afforded in battle. Surely we must remember the loss of life that comes with war and celebrate that our numbers are not closer to that of any of the world wars, in which the death toll cut down entire populations.

I am afraid for the citizens of the middle east. I mourn that they are in danger and that their communities are being damaged and destroyed, but this is war. This is what war does, and as long as we believe that this war should be fought (a matter of debate, certainly, but a different debate), we need to regain an international and historical perspective that celebrates the caution and respect for life the Israeli and American forces are employing. If the same could be said of Hezbollah and Al Queda perhaps we wouldn't be involved in this war as a third party in the first place.

As a side note, this twisted perceptive is not exclusive to international news. I hate that Pamela Anderson's wedding (I wish we didn't have to call it that) to that human pile of grease gets a billing next to President Bush and Prime Minister Blair's international address. I hate that after a headline featuring a famine, we see that Jada Pinkett Whatever saw Tom Cruise's baby (and that this is somehow news!). I hate that as a national heat wave kills over 120 people, as well as cattle and crops, the sub-headline is "Lindsay Lohan overcome by heat on movie set". Why the hell do we care? This world is enormous, full of tragedy, need, and world changing events. We are fortunate enough to live in a world-wide community where we can know about the lives and needs of people removed from us by thousands of miles, a different culture and a different religion. It is my hope that I and those I love can refocus our perspective from the limited and confused nation we live in and open our eyes to life, war, death, and true prosperity with all that it entails.

I am very proud of my sister for joining the Navy. I am extremely proud to know that young men from The Torrey Honors Institute such as Nathan Tourtelotte and Colin Anderson are serving their country, even though they have the brains to get any other job they want. I am proud that one of my best friends from high school spends most her time feeding and teaching the poor in Guatemala. It is not only what they are doing but their reasons for doing so that make these people so special. In a culture that would rather discuss some crazy actor's reasons for not selling his youngest child's pictures for public consumption, at least some of my peers are reaching for something much more important. Please friends, continue to do philosophy, learn how to teach, turn off the TV, join the marines, or at least read the news. Our country and our world need you.

So, It's been 20 days...

2006-07-25T09:21:00.000-07:00

Hello my three readers who care that I have not written. I can't really explain why posts have been so few and far between lately. The blogging bug has left me for a while. I have been indulging myself in reading books for pleasure and spending hours with wonderful new friends and precious old ones. Work has been great and degree number two will be starting all too quickly.

Life has been a flurry of good conversations, new furniture, video games, the best roommates I have ever had, and summer parties. There was the barbecue where we ate grilled hamburgers and a homemade cheese plate, the weekend away in the mountains, the pre-wedding revelries that involved neither the bride nor groom, and Andrew's going away party where I talked for half an hour with a Russian about one's fire for Jesus going out. For the first time in a long time I can say that I really love my life.

I guess this has been the real reason for not blogging. I've been doing so much talking lately that my writing has seemed unnecessary. Maybe this is why writers are largely introverts with a disproportionate number of near-hermits; they have the quiet time to sit and write something legible. I will begin blogging again soon enough, but for now enjoy your summer, your family, your work, and your friends. Life is so much better when you do.

The AARP

2006-07-05T15:32:00.000-07:00

Today I turned in my parent's credit card and enrolled in a 401K.

Life is progressing too quickly.

Small Town, 4th of July

2006-07-04T12:58:00.000-07:00

The 4th of July is a holiday made for small towns. Though the fire works are bigger in New York and the President addresses the country from one of the most population dense areas in these United States, it is the small towns that really know how to celebrate our nation's birthday. For a town of 90,000 we sure are small sometimes.

The red, white and blue stream into the 200 year old streets in the center of town on the backs and heads of the mothers, fathers, and their smallest children (the high-schoolers are much too old to dress for the occasion, even when their parents aren't). Flags wave and dogs wear bandannas around their already too warm necks. The announcer begins the parade from his post at the old theater (the theater is new, but we pretend it has been there as long as the rest of the pony express route on the street). We all stand to sing the national anthem and before we can sit down again, the soldiers walk through and get everyone on their feet again in gratitude.

The general store on the parade route is crowded with dad's sent to retrieve water bottles and kids attempting to reach the candy in the big barrels lining the walls. Though the town marching band (comprised of about 9 people) and the mayor receive an adequate amount of applause, it is the boys gun club, the Temecula Republicans and the Navy sailors that receive the most. It is as if our "little" town wanted to make sure everyone knew we still had the right to teach boys to shoot things and that the democratic club has a long way to go before it will want to parade itself in public.

The DAR and the quilting club make a strong showing in the red, white and blue hat department, and the cowboys groomed their horses cleaner than they themselves had been all year. As soon as the parade is finished everyone will move to the newly renamed Ronald Reagan town park and visit the many booths for churches, and the Temecula historical society hoping to recruit more people to their cause and save the neighboring old farm Vail Ranch. As families finish up their barbeques we will all gather again and watch the fireworks shot out of the fire station on the hill and the firemen will spend thr whole show running up and down the hill putting out the fires the somewhat unsuccesful fire works will inevitably start. I think that is why we built a fire station up there in the first place. Every 4th of July it pays for itself.

I couldn't help but love the town a little more today. We are so strange at heart. Smack dab in the middle of Southern California, we forget our overcrowded freeways, proximity to LA, and immense population of Hummers and we gather together as if it were 1955 in Lake Woebegone. We wave flags that the boy scouts give us and clap for the beauty queens no one knew we had. On the 4th, life is good, America is great, and we love our small town.

It's Official

2006-07-02T00:13:00.000-07:00

I am a college graduate. The last grade came in for the last class and I passed (online Spanish=very bad idea. This was a close one people).

From now on you can write to me as Cate MacDonald, B.A.

I'm not kidding.

Good Morning Blog

2006-06-23T08:42:00.000-07:00

So it has been a few weeks since my last post, but over here in my real life it has been a world of change. I am done with my undergraduate degree and working full time. My roommates have changed, and they all work full time too. Instead of living with a business major, some English majors and a sociology major, I live with a department secretary , an event planner , and an inter-office administrative assistant , as she likes to call herself. The differences are subtle but significant. Instead of money we are all worried about time, no one is home during the day, but our nights are free, and the weekends contain NO HOMEWORK and a little less sleeping in.

I am also now friends with several married people, not because I made new friends but because all my old ones are growing up and doing such things as getting married.

Oh and lest I forget, our house is a zoo. The famed Patrick Pugly brought a little white fuzz ball home with him one day and he has adopted me. His name is Potter, or Potter the Wonder Ball of Growling Fluff. He is very cute (this is his model pose):

RIP

2006-05-29T22:22:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow marks the first day of the last 18 days of my life. All I am saying is that a bachelors degree better be worth all of this.

Until this time of tribulation and purgation for all my procrastinating wrongs is up, don't expect much in the way of blog posts.

(P.S. I graduated twice this weekend and yet the degree is still pending. Sigh)

(P.P.S. My house is now full of blogging roommates. Check out the side bar for my newest, brightest housemates, Amanda, Abigail and (well she's not new but she's cool anyways) Kathy.

Supercalafraga...

2006-05-23T00:46:00.000-07:00

Tonight I spelt psychoanalytically correctly on the first try. I just thought you would all like to know that.

All Night Long

2006-05-15T05:44:00.000-07:00

I am not a late night person. When I lived in the dorms I used to gage the quality of my life on whether or not I was in bed before KZLA announced its after midnight show on the bathroom radio. These days I find myself in bed before 1 and can usually rise without an alarm around 8:00. I like this schedule, and I like the moderation I show between being a night or morning person. How very Aristotlian of me.

Tonight I am involved in the second all nighter of my entire life. The first was the night I officially snagged my first boyfriend. We stayed up talking all night in the Sigma Chi lobby under the pretense of reading Agustine's City of God. That was over three years ago. Since then I don't think I've been up past three. Except for tonight. And though tonight I am not in the company of an enthralling new boy, and I instead get to stay up in the company of three 18th century novels, two post world war novels, and a half written senior thesis, I have rather enjoyed it.

The key I think is the diet coke consumption level combined with the right play lists. Bublé, Peterson, Alabama, and good old Kravitz have all had their run. I've been up since yesterday at 9, and I'm not even tired. This might be the soda and George Strait talking, but it is kind of thrilling to magically add 8 hours of work into your day.

It's 6:00am and I have a friend to wake up and some breakfast to cook. I hope you've rested well.

Magazines

2006-05-13T22:06:00.000-07:00

There is little in life that gives you the same sense of identity as do your magazine subscriptions. Today as I was searching through boxes in the garage (boxes packed before moving to England and not unpacked sense), I unearthed some old Vogues and Cooks Illustrated. As I placed them with their fellow issues on their respective shelves (Cooks Illustrated goes in the kitchen and Vogue has a shelf all to itself in my bedroom), I realized how much I like my magazines.

Every time I get my Vogue in the mail I count the hours until I can put aside work for a while and delve into the dream world that it that publication (the latest issue I've had for two weeks in its original plastic wrap as the work has not yet subsided). How will I introduce my dear daughter to the designers without making her too snobby or spoiled before she is in high school? I do need to find a way to get my tailor to make perfect imitations of Ralph Lauren's (we just call him Ralph) latest jacket, but in a better fabric. I hate it when my plane gets waylayed in Milan when I expressly asked the pilot to only stop in Florence on my way to Sicily. Ahh, these issues are such a plague in my life...

Cooks is a similar fantasy land; one in which I can taste the differences between having four kinds of beef in a meatloaf instead of a mere, inadequate three, or have three hours in which to attempt the perfect pastry puff for a casual summer picnic. I've made four or five meals out of the magazine and everyone has been fantastically good and exorbitantly time consuming, requiring pots and spices I've never heard of much less own.

These magazines are representations of the finer things in life and as such are like mini vacations to me. When I eat Trader Joes frozen Thai bowls for breakfast and lunch in a single day or forget to wash my Gap t-shirt but wear it anyway I think back to these magazines and what I would like life to be like. Someday I hope to worry about the buttons on this season's best coat getting lost, or how much cumin should go into my stove-top concoction, but I have to worry about graduating and getting to work on time, so I guess for now I will merely read.

FYI

2006-05-11T11:38:00.000-07:00

Update: It is now cream. We here at onlytrying are not thrilled with the color, but there is an exciting change coming that will make our color choices obsolete. That's called a teaser.

This blog is not intended to be purple. The background is a lovely shade of pale blue, not an uncomfortable periwinkle. If it is such a periwinke on your browser let me know, as that is unacceptable.

Signed,

The Management

Top Five Records

2006-05-09T23:12:00.000-07:00

Should you find yourself wanting to hang yourself with the tied together pages of the latest installment in the ever-present flow of essays coming from your printer, I would like to suggest to you the salvific qualities of the angry pop playlist. Writing about the modern dilemma of the Midwestern novel when you would rather be sleeping or watching reruns of America's Next Top Model can be harrowing to even the strongest of homework warriors, but there is help. As is so often the case, music is the answer. As is almost never the case, the needed music is pop.

The more mind numbing the lyric and driving the base line, the more likely it is that a particular piece of music will give you the angry adrenaline needed to get through the hurdle. Whereas in the peace and calm of the Bodleian Library last semester I found such pieces as Benjamin Britten's Winterreise a helpful soundtrack to my work, things have, unfortunately, changed. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say. I present to you the soundtrack to my desperation. What's yours?

1. American Woman, Lenny Kravitz
2. Fighter, Christina Aguilera
3. Whole in My Head, The Dixie Chicks
4. Through With You (I like to think of my P.E. classes with this one), Maroon 5
5. What Was I Thinking, Dirks Bently (with a name like Dirks, it has to be good)

On Empty

2006-04-29T00:11:00.000-07:00

Tonight I got home from the gym around midnight and everything I owned was out of batteries or gas. And I thought to myself, "This is an overhanded metaphor for my life. I get it, God."

Death, Life, and What to do in Between

2006-04-27T08:47:00.000-07:00

My friend died last night. He was hit by a semi-truck on the freeway and he died. I only knew him for a few months in Oxford: He was a wonderful boy with an amazing sense of humor, a great curiosity about people, perpetually tan skin, and he cared well for one of the people I care most about. I don't know what to do, what to say, how I should conduct my day. He lived too far away for me to comfort his family and friends, too far removed from my life to do anything but sit in shock. Today I have to go to class, then to work, then to more class, and my world doesn't stop. But shouldn't it stop? A lot of people's worlds stopped last night.

I remember back a few years ago when I was sitting at my desk at work I couldn't help but overhear a conversation my boss was having with a bussiness associate dying of cancer. She talked to him for a while, was very sweet and kind, but as soon as she hung up she had to take the next call. She had to be cheerful, persuasive, and full of good salesmanship. No one was dying in our world, and we had to move on to the next thing. And yet there was someone out there whose life was changing slowly until it left him all together.

My life isn't actually affected by Brad's death, and yet shouldn't it be? How do I grieve for someone so removed? I know I need to - the knot in my stomach tells me that. I guess all I can do is pray and write. I'll write here and I'll write to the people whose world has stopped for a while. I don't really know how to finish this post, so here's Brad. We'll miss you.

Happy Birthday to Me

2006-04-25T13:34:00.000-07:00

Today is my twenty-second birthday. I always kind of wondered about this birthday, because it feels like my first grown-up one. You've got the teenage years, in which you are obviously still a kid,then you turn twenty and eveyone makes a big deal about you not being a teenager anymore, which merely serves to make you feel the same as you always did. Twenty-one is exciting and you get to drink and go to casinos, neither of which my law-abiding-Biola-self got to do. But twenty-two is just the beginning of all the non-descript birthdays your parents have always had.

I used to wonder about those birthdays too. When does a birthday cease to become the main event in your young life, and changes to a day that a lot of people forget, your friends make you feel special, and you spend wondering at the brevity of life? Turns out that birthday is twenty-two. My dad always said that it was all down hill from 16. Secretly I always thought it was all down hill from 22.

Today instead of birthday cake or a party I am eating creme brulee that Amanda picked-up from our favorite restuarant as I sit at my desk. Tonight one of my best friends is taking me out to dinner, and then I think I will watch American Idol. It might not be the thing kid's dreams are made of, but it doesn't feel down hill to me. I think I'll like being twenty-two.

Working

2006-04-23T22:23:00.000-07:00

Hello Blog. I'm sorry I haven't written, but it isn't personal. I haven't done anything, really. No homework, no excercise, nothing. You see, I am in denial. Denial that there are only four weeks left in my senior year; denial that I have enough work to fill the next four months.

This is all going to change, blog. I am starting tomorrow on a firey trail of mad success. There will be homework, there will be protein, there will be early to bed early to rise, there will be a gym, there will be the writing of the thesis, and there will be success. I hope.

I need this, Blog. I need things to be different, better; I need things to work. It would be nice to have a life that works again. I might even find the time to write on this blog. If not, I'll see you in June.

"But officer, what about my friend Patrick here?"

2006-04-23T22:18:00.000-07:00

You know you are too attached to your dog when you keep having to leave the carpool lane because you keep remembering he is not an actual person.

Opera Day

2006-04-12T09:50:00.000-07:00

Today is Opera Day at my house (that's right OPERA DAY). I do not approve of the activity that two of the roommates are quite set upon happening today. The basic rule for opera day is that everyone must sing every word that they intended to say. This is a terrible, terrible idea. The other three girls have vacated the home front in order to avoid the day, but Kathy and Erin will not be discouraged. They are ignoring me right now because I refuse to sing my sentences. Patrick is very confused as people keep singing at him to eat his dinner or go outside.

When Erin was trying to convince me that Opera Day was a good idea, the one thing she could come up with was, "You could write about it on your blog!" Tonight there will be pictures.

Found: Parakeet

2006-04-07T17:55:00.000-07:00

Today we lost my parakeet. She escaped out the back door that was left open when Erin and I left to study at Starbucks. I have lost many a bird in my life but never have I found them again. She obviously wasn't in the house, so I thought all hope was lost. Then I heard a little chirp near the side yard. I walked around the house and Erin and I slowly wandered the back yard following the little familiar cheeps, and there she was in the back hedge, sitting on a branch.

It's a tricky business trying to catch a bird because, well, they can fly. Every other pet has the same limitations as far as time and space as you, but not birds. They can always go up. Erin ran and got Claire's cage and we slowly tried to coax her into her cage from the hedge. She decided to give us mild heart attacks by flying from branch to branch before finally settling on Erin's finger and into the cage.

We are horrible parents.

Wanderlust

2006-04-06T17:48:00.000-07:00

When I was little we used to go down to my uncle's house near Rosarito Mexico in the summer. Going across the border was exciting and kind of scary. It was strange to see a completely different world an hour from your home. In this world people banged on your windows to sell you dolls and hair clips, you couldn't drink the water, and the pastries were terrible. My uncle's house was on a cliff overlooking the beach. We had to climb down terrifying, switch-backed stairs to reach the private beach below and in the mornings you could sit on the stucco and brick wall and watch dolphins play in the uninhabited waters. I think these trips were the beginning of my love for travel.

We were home schooled, and as such were never bound by the kid-crushing restrictions of the California school system. My mom took us on hundreds of field trips, nature days, and sleep-overs. Once we all went camping with our best friends (the M-girls, as we affectionately called ourselves) and stayed for a few weeks, studying the creek and drawing with chalk dust in the dirt. It was a very free kind of education, a desire for which I have never been able to shake.

This love for freedom and travel increased in high school when my dad decided he wouldn't trust me behind the wheel of any of his cars until I had some serious experience. Dad travels a lot, and so instead of buying a few airline tickets, he took Afton and me, packed up the truck and started driving east. We went to Las Vegas, Flagstaff, Amarillo, St. Louis, Chicago, Minneapolis and beyond on these trips. They would span a week or so, and we would drive all night and all day until we reached the business meeting, conference, or appointment Dad had scheduled at the other end.

Once Afton and I got scared out of our minds when the St. Louis Hilton we were staying in lost its power due to a tornado nearing the city. We can deal with earthquakes (well, Afton can. I start shaking to the point that I can't tell when it stops) but TORNADOS? Once the lights came back on, it was just an amazingly fun lightning storm and an excuse to join Dad's cocktail-hour meet and greet and eat the hors duerves.

When I was a senior in high school four of my closest friends and I went to a music festival on the central coast. We camped with our best boys, ate only beans for dinner (Johnny let the cooler water into the tortillas and cheese), slept in the back of the car and had a blast. Then us girls took off and explored California for a week. We walked the entirety of San Francisco because we kept missing the trolley and got lost near Yosemite. These were some of the best times of my entire life.

I've seen the place James Dean died, The Chicago Institute of Art, sunrise over the Utah dessert, Italian cathedrals and museums, Abe Lincoln's birthplace, and a lightning storm so intense it lit up the New Mexican dirt to the point that it was white instead of red. I've climbed mountains, crawled through streams and camped for days with nothing but what my horse could carry up the mountain. I've eaten the best gelato in the world, listened to the English street musicians, seen the Sistine Chapel, and walked the streets of London. I've bathed in a pool we made in which we had to balance the icy mountain water with the natural hot-springs that were hotter than my jacuzzi can get.

Waking up in a different place gives your mind so much room to think. You don't have to worry about feeding the dog, or getting to work, or how in the world your groceries disappeared so quickly. You can watch dolphins swim, or look out the window at a desert sunrise and just observe. It's the closest the mind can get to blank, and I love the peace that comes from just watching your new surroundings.

With my early life punctuated by trips and adventures (family vacations also spanned the US), the restrictions that come from college enrollment are very hard for me to deal with. Every few months I get intense wanderlust. Living in the UK satisfied it for a while, but it is back with avengence. Today at work I got to my desk and saw a printed set of directions to Tulsa. I looked back at Amanda and her giggle told me I was not alone in wanting to get away (though I am not sure I would pick Tulsa). I want to go. I want to get on a train or a plane, or just turn my car a different direction on the way home.

I am afraid that that time in my life has past. I look forward to graduate school and work and see years of responsibility stretching before me. I can't wait to become a teacher or a writer who can bring what she does to where she goes. Some day this blog will be written from a train station or the ranger's station, my dear Florence, Magdelene College, or maybe just Tulsa.

The Spanish Saga

2006-04-03T23:48:00.000-07:00

In the race for what will long be remembered as the Biggest Mistake of My Academic Career, the Spanish language and my inability to learn it is blowing all other contenders (such as ceasing to go to chapel as a Sophomore, having four majors, and eating at the Cafe) out of the proverbial water. I have been trying to work with an online class in order to get to take summer school and graduate on time, but it is a scary business, let me tell you. There is virtually no real syllabus, no directions, and no direct interaction with the so-called "professor" of the class. Each week I have had to piece together and guess my way through to the next week, slowly gaining momentum and therefore GPA. That however was before midterms.

Today marks the official due date for one portion of the midterm. I thought I would be fine in getting things together and taking the test, and so I left work early to get to the phone with time to spare. I then read the fine print and realized that there is a mysterious printed exam that has yet to be mentioned or provided and must be taken before the oral exam that is due today. This means that the test that holds my graduation ceremony in its grips has gone AWOL. This is not good.

I emailed my professora (that's Spanish, folks) about the issue, and am expecting her reply in approximately three months.

Seriously kids. Do your language requirements in high school. It will add years to your life.

P.S. Though not well demonstrated by my last post, I know how to spell hamster.

The Animal Kingdom

2006-03-31T12:34:00.000-08:00

It all started with a hamster named Brody (after Adam, I believe). The summer roommates wanted a pet, and a mini hamspter fit the bill. Low maintenence, pettable and dirt cheap. The pet was cheaper than his food supply. He was an insane little nocternal beast, running on his hamspter weel all night, and never stopping to let his poor owners rest in a creakless sleep. Kathy and I decided that hampsters were not for us, and as soon as the summer roommates and their beastly hamspter prepared to move to Santa Barbara, we purchased two delightful parakeets named Sherlock and Elwood. Sherlock and Elwood were lovely pale blue and made lovely chirping noises, and went to sleep at night like good pets. Unfortunately, they died of various diseases afflicting the bird world these days.

Claire was generation two of the Pet Project. She is a beautiful periwinkle colored bird, small for her breed, and enjoys people, unlike any of the other pets thus far. She hangs out on people's shoulders, runs around the house, and knows how to fly back to her cage whenever she has grown tired of us. As pleasant as she is however, she did not satiate our desire for pets (especially as she decided more and more to enjoy the solitude of her cage rather than our company). Armed with Kathy's intense allegeric reactions to cats and a desire for a furry friend, we started going to dog stores and petting puppies. We were quite good at convincing the sales people that we were serious dog buyers, and though we got to pet lots of puppies, their $2000 price tag drove us away. We thought about the pound, but it seems that LA occupants only give away Pit Bulls.

That is when we saw the ad. A little pug cutie-pie free to a good home. By golly, we were going to be an awesome home. He was perfect. Six years old, house trained, and small enough that the landlord would be happy. Generation three of the Pet Project is known as Patrick, Patrick Puggly, Fatty Patty, or Smooshkin-Face, depending on who you ask. And we love him very much.`

Meet Patrick Pugly

2006-03-25T18:03:00.000-08:00

The newest member of our household:

'Cause All The Cool Kids Are Doing It*

2006-03-17T12:37:00.000-08:00

* In other words I don't have the time to write a real post right now (mostly because I waste too much time doing stupid things, as demonstrated above), so here are some Myspace quality pictures.

Cakes

2006-03-12T15:40:00.000-08:00

While watching 'How to Lose a Guy':

"'Frost yourself' is a great slogan for jewelery because it's like you are the cake and the jewelery is your frosting." -Anonymous housemate #1

"If I were a cake I'd be devil's food! Rowr!" -Anonymous housemate #2

More People

2006-03-06T17:06:00.000-08:00

Abigail and Lauren's latest posts (congratulations Lauren!) have brought to the surface a theme of my thinking lately. I am afraid. I am afraid of not having the people I need. Graduation is coming and with it people move and marry, leaving behind those who don't have the opportunity or inclination to do either. I am terrified of the upcoming upheaval because I don't have the faith required to happily anticipate the future unknown. I rarely write seriously on this blog because I don't want to make people uncomfortable and I know it is hard to interact with, but I just thought you, my people, should know. Houses full of friends are the greatest treasures this world offers, and I pray that I will always have such houses near by.

Here's to the unknown. May it bless us richly and always keep us in good company.

Smarm Alarm

2006-02-28T09:46:00.000-08:00

I had a meeting with aforementioned subject of business lessons (name withheld to protect me from Google) and made the mistake of telling Abigail about it. She was very insistent that I get a picture, and although we came up with some incredible, daring plots to get said picture, it didn't work out (mostly because all of our plots ended up in huge disaster scenes of get-away chases and falling down). However, I would hate to disappoint my reading audience, and so I roped a co-worker into a little amateur modeling. Without further ado, I give you Steve as the smarmy business man:

How to Create the World's Best Crappy Cup of Coffee

2006-02-23T17:21:00.000-08:00

1. Want Coffee at 3 in the afternoon. Look in coffee pot and realize it was made at 6:00 in the morning.
2. Not Care.
3. Decide that luke-warm coffee isn't good enough. Old and burnt, sure. Luke-warm, no.
4. Put in microwave and decide on two minutes.
5. Immeadiately regret decision.
6. Clean up boiled over coffee and start over.
7. After coffee is heated, add sugar and about a cup of Coffee-Mate to add subtetly to the bark-like flavor.
8. Drink as quickly as possible in order no to destroy tastebuds.
9. Begin stomach ache.

Can You Say Control Freak?

2006-02-23T14:14:00.000-08:00

Amanda just informed me that apparently my blog wouldn't allow you to post comments unless approved by me. Let it be known that this was because I don't seem to know what "Moderate Comments" means and I just click yes at random. Sorry about that. It has been fixed...

Germophobia Or How I Contracted the Bubonic Plague

2006-02-21T17:30:00.000-08:00

You may or may not remember a previous post in which I said that I didn't care if the house was teeming with germs as long as it looked clean. This is, however, no longer the case. In fact I have been continually resisting the urge to do some Adrian Monk style cleaning of my car, bathroom and bed, and have to remind myself that I don't want to give into the slippery slope of germophobia.

That is until today. Today I snapped. It all started with Jelly Bellys. I know what you are thinking. Probably something along the lines of "Cate, seriously enough with the Jelly Bellys", but really they are a very significant part of my life and if you can't see that, then I don't even know you anymore. Anyways, we are attempting to save the boxes of Jelly Bellys for a promotional program coming up, but they were being quickly eaten by all the guys in the office. I had one of the guys tape them up securely in order to keep the guys out, but this has also unfortunately kept me out of them too. Today I decided that I was IN CHARGE of the Jelly Belly promotion and I could have some Jelly Bellys if I really wanted them. So I snuck into the sealed boxes, pulled out a secret stash of Jelly Bellys and resealed the three layers of boxes protecting the magic beans. Then I took them out of their little bag, spread them in a single layer on my desk and covered them with a flyer so that Steve wouldn't know and I wouldn't have to share. I got a phone call and had to stop my snacking in order to talk, and while I was talking I looked over at the distant reaches of my desk, only to discover (prepare yourself) mouse poop. Eww. Eww Eww Eww. It was disgusting and gross and implied that a mouse and his little disgusting feet had been crawling around on my desk. The desk that had spread across its surface my precious Jelly Bellys. Eww.

And then the germophobia really hit. The mouse had probably been on my chair, and my keyboard, and my mouse (haha). I was sitting in a virtual pool of Bubonic plague. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first thing in a spray bottle I could find. It happened to be Windex. I then sprayed Windex on everything I own. This turned out to be a bad idea, as wooden desks and leather chairs and lamps don't particularly like Windex, but it had to be done. After I finished I washed my hands, then took out my trash (he had probably been in there) then washed my hands again. And again. The bottle of Windex is now positioned strategically on my desk in case there is still a spot of disease waiting to attack. The bubonic plague could still be nestling itself happily in my stomach because of the desk-infected Jelly Belly's, so I'll keep you updated. I'm going to go home and vacuum the curtains or something.

Built Ford Tough

2006-02-16T18:01:00.000-08:00

My Christmas present from my sister Afton was a ticket to the Professional Bull Riders "Built Ford Tough" series for its one weekend in Southern California. This post would be a thousand times better if I could have remembered my digital camera, but alas, I did not. Lets just say you would have been getting some very up close and personal shots of the bull riding geniuses because I MET THEM!

I've never been a sports fan. I have two sisters, no brothers and a Dad who laments our inability to do such basic tasks as throw a ball or fill a car with gas (I know the last one doesn't really count as a sport, but somehow I feel they are related). I've been to a few minor league baseball games, an Angel's game and a total of two highschool football games, and there my sports going ends. This however, is about to change. I knew the moment the initials U.S.A lit up IN FIRE across the arena floor that I had just become a sports fan.

PBR introduced me to the glory of sports: the yelling, the cheering, the booing, the emotional involvement in a thing that ultimately doesn't matter to your life in the slightest. It has all the excitement of relationships (including hot guys) with none of the risks. Its amazing. And you get to eat 5 dollar hot dogs and not care that you just spent five dollars on a hot dog because you got a free souvenir soda cup. Now I'm just counting the days until the boys and bulls come back to town.

PBR Quotes of the Night:

"What "Girls Gone Wild" is for men, the PBR is for women."

"In keeping with our cowboy theme we should go see Brokeback Mountain." -Amanda
"Don't ever say that again." -Afton

Valentines Day Exploded in Our House

2006-02-14T17:19:00.000-08:00

Tips on How to Get Business Update: I Take it all Back

2006-02-13T12:58:00.000-08:00

Dear Adam of Kent Landsberg Co.,

I am sorry, Adam dear, for calling you smarmy. I didn't know how you felt, really. But today when I got to my desk, saw your beautiful face on yet another card, and gasped at the collection of See's lolly pops you left, it became clear. The lovely note you left on the heart shaped sticker made my heart melt: "Use our tape, bags and twine, and you'll always be my valentine!" You too Adam. You too.

Erin with a Parakeet on Her Head

2006-02-10T11:22:00.000-08:00

Freezer Fortress

2006-02-10T11:11:00.000-08:00

Fridays are my stay at home and work days. My roommates all leave for various classes and such, and I buckle down and try to get through some of the reading constantly begging for my free time. Today I was doing just that, and I realized it was about lunch time and I was hungry. I knew my lunch was waiting for me in the freezer (Trader Joe's Pad Thai is better than Popcorn Jelly Bellys), and so I went to get it. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any actual food because the 18 gallons of ice cream we keep in there were blocking the way, trapping lunch behind their creamy behinds. We have six people who live in this house, yet we have eight gallons of ice cream, a huge bag of ice cream popsicles, and what looks like frozen cream puffs hiding behind that. This is what happens when girls no longer have their mother shop for them:

The Unforseen Dangers of Education

2006-02-06T13:41:00.000-08:00

"Well, I'm in love too, but in an orderly fashion."

2006-01-31T00:13:00.000-08:00

As I was dropping a friend off on campus tonight around midnight, I nearly ran over approximately 20 couples walking off into the outer reaches of campus to get some alone time on this, the first night of school. Living off campus is nice for several reasons, one of which is no open house rules. While I am as thankful for these rules as any girl can be who lived on a hall with a communal bathroom and unscrupulous hall-mates, it does propose some difficulties to a relationship. Those couples still on campus must brave the lobbies, or else wander into parking lots, fields, cars and sets of buildings to commune. Romantic, isn't it?

College relationships have many down sides, including lack of money, no privacy, and the ridiculous things one must do to spend time together. Staying up until all hours of the night was my least favorite. Biola has always been swarming with couples, but I for one am glad not to be one of them. My next relationship will play out far from the reaches of lobby dwellers, hall-mates, and campus safety patrollers. It will include jobs (which pay money!!), houses in which dwell only close friends, none of the mushy church approved PDA, and, with a little luck, the maturity and happiness that can come with order and confidence.

Only at Biola...

2006-01-30T12:08:00.000-08:00

Why is it that the most spiritual classes I've ever taken at Biola are P.E.? I guess this is what comes from being an English major in Torrey...

Tips on How to Get Business

2006-01-27T16:06:00.000-08:00

1.) When walking into office please, please don't chew and then smack your gum. It's gross.

2.) Don't look suprised when I tell you I am in charge of something. That's right buddy, I can be in charge of stuff.

3.) Don't try to smarm me into business with you. I can compare prices with the best of them. Watch me.

4.) Don't be happy I am scanning your card into my computer. You think I am filing it away in some technologically sound system, but really I just want to show my friends the smarm:

A Meme?

2006-01-24T09:49:00.000-08:00

I'm not really sure what a Meme is, but Andrew tagged me, so here it goes.

Four Jobs I Have Had:

1. Snackbar Attendant (so fun, and so much free junk food)
2. Horseback riding instructor (the horses are more fun than the students)
3. Assistant Office Manager at EIP
4. Library Inventory-er and Organizer for a Private School

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over Again:

1. Pride and Prejudice (the long one, not the romance novel version)
2. Enchanted April
3. Wallace and Grommit
4. You've Got Mail

Four Books I Could Read Over and Over:

1. Little Women
2. Winnie the Pooh (it is so peaceful)
3. Wooster and Jeeves Novels
4. Dorothy Sayers essay on Classical Education (I love it!)

Four Places I Have Lived:

1. San Jaun Capistrano, CA (You know, in the OC)
2. Temecula, CA (Where there are NO Wigwams)
3. La Mirada, CA
4. Oxford, UK

Four TV Shows I Watch:

1. Friends
2. Dancing with the Stars (It is awesome, Abigail)
3. Wooster and Jeeves (do BBC tv shows on DVD count? I think so)
4. Lost by default, since it is on ALL THE TIME at our house

Four Places I Have Been on Vacation:

1. Hawaii (three times)
2. Italy
3. Williamsburg, VA (that's what you call an educational vacation)
4. Park City and Salt Lake, UT (returning to the Mormon roots)

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

1. Ryan's blog
2. Abigail's Blog
3. Kathy's Blog
4. The rest of my friend's blogs

Four Favorite Foods:

1. Pizza
2. Chocolate
3. Sandwiches (especially tuna!!)
4. Pad Thai

Four Places I'd Like to be Right Now:

1. Ummm, Italy, I guess. That's all

Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:

1. Kathy Tabris
2. Abigail Schilling
3. Ryan Schaffner
4. Matthew Langford

A Tribute to my Cousin Ian

2006-01-22T03:33:00.000-08:00

I once knew a boy who had a tattoo on his shoulder, proclaiming his access to the “Luck of the Irish.” He decided it was a great tribute to his heritage, until a confused cousin informed him that they were not Irish but Scottish. They consulted their elder relatives of several generations who did indeed conclude that the family was as Scottish as Robert the Bruce. He was angry with his mother who, he claimed, had always told him he was of Irish decent. He remained quite upset until his Dad told him that he thought, perhaps, just maybe, he had a great grandfather who might be Irish. This appeased him for a while. Who knows the difference anyway, really?

True Story.

Farm Girl

2006-01-22T03:10:00.000-08:00

Today I worked out at my parent's house, helping them prepare for the impending kitchen remodel that is so big it is requiring us to move just about everything we own to various locations on the property. This is complicated by the fact that all of those places were already full, thus forcing us to move everything out of one spot, fill it with new stuff, and move the displaced stuff somewhere else, and so on. All this moving is not only unearthing a great deal of dust and dead bugs, but through the moving of old boxes and searching for what to save and what to throw away, it upheaved thousands of memories.

My childhood was incredibly happy. My two younger sisters and I are close enough in age that our interests were never far from each other, and our toys were a collection in sets of threes. Playmobile and American Girl Dolls were two of the most prominent and coveted playthings, followed closely by Breyer horses, and, I am sorry to say, Barbies. Boxes and boxes of these treasures remain, hermetically sealed by my mother to save for "the grandchildren" ("the grandchildren" became a priority by the time I was thirteen, and my sisters still talk about being jealous that the nonexistent grandchildren got our toys, learning more quickly than most to resent their children). To look through the boxes was to remember the hours we spent with the dolls and the friends who shared our passion. Those girls' dolls are packed away too, replaced by horses, boys, and college. We are no longer playmates: we are nurses, missionaries, equestrians, nannies, scholars, musicians, and growing up. But for today it was nice to remember; nice to sit on a tail gate of the truck as dad drove from the shed, past the horses, to the garage and back again. Nice to play with our old dog who used to chew our toys in her puppy enthusiasm. Nice to see that my sisters are still my favorite people and that playing with them is still the most fun. And nicest to know that we are still happy; that the kitchen, like so much else, will soon be new; that my youngest sister will soon be in college, but that our memories will always be the kind that carry us farther forward.

Popcorn Jelly Beans, Revisited

2006-01-20T11:06:00.000-08:00

Today I received a shipment of 36,000 Jelly Bellys. This would be more suprising except for the fact that I ordered them on Monday. For those of you who have never received this amount of Jelly Bellys, this is three huge boxes weighing about 70 pounds each. In general, I don't really care for Jelly Bellys, with one notable exception. I LOVE POPCORN JELLY BELLYS. I am now resisting the urge to dig through the boxes and boxes of one ounce bags of candy and pull out all of the popcorn flavored ones. It is hard.

Three Days and Counting

2006-01-17T12:06:00.000-08:00

So, I am three days in to my going-to-the-gym-everyday-even-if-I-think-it-will-kill-me-because-
it-is-good-for-me experiment, and I feel like a new person. I am happy all the time and have so much energy. It's like a took a magic pill called Turbo Kick Box and everything is all better (please don't make fun of my magic pill's name).

Life, Spanish, and the Fine Art of Denial

2006-01-11T09:19:00.000-08:00

I have one final semester left in my entire undergraduate career. This is an amazing, wonderful thing, except for one tiny problem. I have two semesters of Spanish left in my entire undergraduate career. I know that you, my readership, are an intelligent bunch, and are at this very moment thinking, "hmmm, this math doesn't add up". You would be right, Oh Readership, which brings me to my point. I am a freaking idiot.

You see, instead of taking the required Spanish courses, I have been honing my craft of finely tuned denial. I have been saying to myself, "I can pull of two semesters in 5 months! I will take online courses and they will be super easy, kind of like traffic school. I will never take Spanish at Biola again, HAHAHAHAHA!" And, as deadlines for my intended Spanish study wizz by unheeded, I am beginning to worry a bit about where my denial has gotten me.

Never one to be easily intimidated however, my denial has now taken a new, more alluring form. Kathy and I have decided that actually taking Spanish is for the faint of heart and weak of mind. We instead will test out of any required classes and be free as birds! This high risk strategy is so beautiful it is hard to take ones eyes off of it long enough to go sign up for online classes. See you at my graduation in 2007.

Molly and Kit

2006-01-06T23:43:00.000-08:00

No, I am not referring to the two most modern members of the American Girl Doll Family (a similarity I just recognized), but to our two wonderful dogs. Molly has been an upstanding member of our family and paragon of canine virtue for all the fourteen years I have known her, but this post will focus on the more recent addition, our overwhelmingly happy and large Kit.

Kit was given to us by an old friend when she grew too big for their small children to handle. While Molly was instantly impressive with her sheer force of brain power, ability to know us kids by name, willingness to go anywhere and everywhere with us, her ability to run faster then most cheetas, and her jumping of 6 foot fences in a single bound, Kit at first glance seemed to be kind of a failure at being a dog. She appeared to be incredibly stupid, more awkward then any animal I have ever encountered (she would knock over everything in her path including us), and was actually physically incapable of running. She could walk, but get her to go faster and she turned into a strange hybrid of dog and camel, trotting towards you, never stopping in time to not take out your knee. Dad actually picked her name for its ease and effectiveness when yelled angrily across the yard.

Despite her unpromising beginning, Kit has unexpectedly turned into one of the great blessings in my life. She has learned to run and to be slightly more graceful around the house, but she has also demonstrated a personality not frequently encountered. Kit is affection incarnate. It never matters if you have been gone three weeks or just walked down the street to get the mail, as soon as you get back to the driveway she will greet you with the same incredible enthusiasm and excitement. Whenever I see her she walks up to me and licks my hand, and today when I didn't let her get on the porch swing with me, she walked around the swing in a circle, whimpering until I pet her. She has been trying to be very good and quiet in the house, but whenever you mention her name you can hear the solid thumping of her tail from where ever she may be laying.

The other night I got to experience another side of her that caused my warm affection for her to turn into genuine love. I was home alone one night here at my parents, which can be a little scary. We have few neighbors, and live well out of town, so nights are very quiet. I had finished the movie I was watching and went upstairs to go to bed. Both of the dogs followed me up and layed down in the hall. Just as I was about to fall asleep, they both start barking loudly and ran downstairs. I freaked out. I knew none of the doors were locked, I was alone, and something in our normally quiet neighborhood was causing our normally quiet dogs to bark incessantly. I creeped downstairs and locked all the doors, and Kit followed me back up. Once I got back in bed, she sat down right in front of my bed, facing the door. I felt instantly safe, seeing her planted in front of me. Though it was probably nothing outside, I knew that she was their to protect me from it. She only moved to come and lick my hand or to patrol downstairs once or twice, and then she would promptly sit down in front of me again. She sat there for over an hour until my parents came home.

If I am able to find a man who shows the same balance of love and protection I get from this dog, I will be one lucky, lucky woman. If not, I know Kit will always be my affectionate friend with big scary teeth.

What Women Want

2006-01-02T12:49:00.000-08:00

After watching the aforementioned movie with Kathy and Tara:

Kathy: So what do women want?

Tara and me: ummm...

Kathy: Mel Gibson!

I'm Dreaming of a Tropical Christmas

2005-12-24T12:30:00.000-08:00

It's a balmy 85 degrees here in Southern California. Santa's Sleigh may run into technical difficulties.

Furhter reports as events warrant...

Merry Christmas Eve!

2005-12-24T08:35:00.000-08:00

I think that I may like Christmas Eve more than Christmas because you get all the anticipation of tomorrow's holiday, while still feeling that you are having a holiday right now. This extends the holiday spirit from 24 hours to 48 and we all know the more holiday the better.

Speaking of holidays, the best thing about mine has been the little things. I have time to curl my hair, go to bad movies, take random trips with the entire family to the neighbors-who-went-on-a-Christmas-cruise to use the massage chair, go out to breakfast with my dear friend, and make stuffing. All this and I still go to bed by 10:00pm.

Life is good. Christmas makes it even better.

The Holiday Spirit

2005-12-21T09:25:00.000-08:00

There is nothing that makes it seem more like Christmas than a rousing rendition of "Grandma got Ran Over by a Reindeer".

Public Service Announcement

2005-12-14T04:28:00.000-08:00

On behalf of the the internet reading population I would like to say, just because we are reading your blog doesn't mean we want to hear your crappy music. We especially don't want your crappy music downloaded on to our computers. So please, do a service to us all and take those stupid files off of your blog so that we can surf in peace.

Regards,

The Society for the Anihilation of Eprops and other Stupid Internet Conventions.

London!

2005-12-13T13:20:00.000-08:00

Following the final days of term, I took a two day trip to London. We toured several of the major sights (many of which I haven't seen), and had a generally great time. Here are some of my favorites!

This is the London skyline at sunset from the base of the London Eye:

This is Tim trying to be as tough as his new friend:

Here are some horses we saw trotting past Buckingham Palace. Unfortunately, the Queen nor any of her closest relations were inside the carriage.

It was cold in London, and so here is my smoothie demonstrating its cool new winter gear:

I am back in Oxford for a few days, exploring the unseen parts of the city and recovering from the semester. I can't believe I will be home this week!

The Last Days

2005-12-09T07:59:00.000-08:00

Today was the first of the many, many sad good-byes that will happen in the next twenty-four hours. We had our last official meeting today, which served as a time of reflection and fun while we geared up to get packing. I am so sad to see my friends go home.

Here are some sad pictures of our sad selves (we don't look sad, but we are):

This is our scrabble club (we played at a pub every Friday night):

Here is the Oxford Contingent of Dante (long live us!):

And these are my roommates and me freaking out, apparently:

It Is Finished

2005-12-08T03:12:00.000-08:00

Last night I printed my very last Oxford essay. I will be walking out the door to turn it in in approximately 8 minutes. This is very weird for me.

Who has a free place to stay in Oxford? Well, that would be me...

2005-12-06T14:56:00.000-08:00

Since I know you are all deeply concerned by the potential of me living on the streets of London for lack of funds (a problem I was quite recently whining about), fear not. My excellent friend David has come to my rescue and moved to Finland for three weeks. Lest you think this is unrelated, I will tell you that he has also given me free reign of his apartment here in Oxford for the duration of his foreign travel. And there was much rejoicing.

The moral of the story is: Stay in touch with friends from high school. Even the one's who are quite strange and obscure might come out of the woodwork, give you their european home, and so restore your ability to eat and buy presents.

Reasons

2005-12-03T09:33:00.000-08:00

One reason why Xanga is an illegitimate forum for legitimate blogging is eprops. I still don't know exactly what they are or what they were meant to signify, but the word "props" is dumb enough without digitizing it.

One reason I don't want to leave Oxford is because I like riding the Oxford bus. If you had told me that this would be a reason when I got here I wouldn't have believed you, but I really like it. I meet lots of nice people, get to see lots of crazy people (the funny kind, who are usually drink and/or singing), and have all of these pleasant breaks in the day while I wait to be picked up. It will feel like cheating to get back in a car and drive places all by myself, with no other people and no waiting.

One reason I like Christmas is because of the decorations. I think the world would be a better place if we found something to decorate our city streets, shop windows, and living rooms for every month.

One reason it is good that we don't is because it would make Christmas less special.

One reason I want to go home is because I can't wait to see my family and live at home again for a few weeks. It feels as if it has been ages.

One reason why I don't like checking my email on the weekends is because I never get any, and it makes me sad (hint: send me an email).

One reason I am blogging right now: I don't want to write my long essay.

Buying Up Oxford, Because I am an Idiot

2005-12-01T07:50:00.000-08:00

Between the elation that set in when I finished my very last tutorial and the denial I am living under about how much work there is left to do, I have been experiencing some erratic behavior on my own part. This being my last week in Oxford, I appear to have decided that I will buy it all and bring it with me. Wycliffe sweatshirt? Of course! A girl's got to show her college pride. New silver ring? A perfect memento of my time here. Presents for the family? Oxford just happens to contain LOTS of things that they would like. Magdalene College? I've been needing one of those, pile it on!

Due to this need to single-handedly increase Oxford's economy, I have spent over 70 pounds in the last TWO DAYS. For those of you not familiar with the pound to dollar exchange rate, this is approximately $8,000, 000. This wouldn't be such a problem if it wasn't for the fact that I had the brilliant idea to stay in England for six days after term. This means I need to use the dollars I earned this summer to pay for food and housing in London. Unfortunately, London requires one to use pounds, and you are now all well aware of what problems this can present for the hard-earned but easily spent American dollar. With that in mind, I am trying to depress myself enough so that I stay in-doors safe in my room where no spending is possible. If this fails, I may be joining England's many homeless and living out of my suitcase with a lovely silver ring as my only conciliation. Maybe I can barter Tim for a bus ticket to the airport.

There is, however, one purchase that I am particularly proud of. Since I cannot end this blog post before I refer to the weather at least once, I would now like to introduce you to my favorite things:

That's right! Fingerless gloves! These babies keep your hands toasty warm while still allowing you to do stuff . It is amazing! They are by far the most practical things I have bought in a while, not to mention they are adorable. They were definitely worth the $3000 dollars they cost after conversion.

Baby It's Cold Outside

2005-11-25T12:33:00.000-08:00

It has been looking like this out:

So I have been looking like this:

When Coats are no Longer Enough

2005-11-17T08:24:00.000-08:00

In England, Fall means business. As soon as October hit the wind set in and the leaves all turned instantly yellow or red. Now that November is here the temperature has dropped and maintained a cool forty degrees or below. This may not sound like a big deal, but I, may I remind you, was born and raised in Southern California. Forty degrees is what happens a few nights in January when you are snuggled in your bed with the heater on and two pairs of socks.

Sunday I got ready to leave the house and, because it I knew it was fall and a little chilly, I put on a sweater and walked out the door. I stopped dead in my tracks. I then turned around, walked back in the house and got a scarf. By the time I had tried to walk out the door again, the gust of cold air convinced me to go back up into my room and pile on another shirt, then the sweater, then the scarf and finally my winter coat (the first winter coat I have ever owned, by the way). As I was walking towards town the only part of my body that remained warm were my shoulder sockets where all five layers were piled up, making it hard to move my arms, but keeping my rotator cuff warm and toasty.

It has since been necessary to wear one's winter coat everyday this week. Mine, I might add, is the brightest color of red you could possibly imagine. And so, as of today I now own two winter coats, the second of which is a reasonable dark brown and unlikely to blind the passerby with its sheer force of color.

And before I get back to my reading I just need to say that I love sheep. Without sheep there would be no wool and without wool there would be no way to POSSIBLY stay warm enough to not die on your way to tutorials. This may sound like an exaggeration to all of you, but let me say again: born and raised in southern California.

In Honor of America, Summer, and Bluegrass

2005-11-11T09:25:00.000-08:00

A picture taken by Kathy (who is quite proud of her photography skills) during the summer:

Musical Madness and More Pictures (because I can)

2005-11-09T16:31:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I was studying in the library and decided to listen to some music on the computer I was writing on. I grabbed my headphones out of my bag and put them in my ears and turned on some Diana Krall, but it sounded weird. I took out the head phones and switched ears, but still it didn't seem to help, so I took them out again, stared at them, and stuck them back in. Then I realized that the music wasn't any louder with the headphones in my ears, and was very confused. I looked down the cord and suddenly noticed that I had forgotten to PLUG MY HEADPHONES INTO THE COMPUTER. I was playing music for the entire lower reading room of the Radcliffe camera and let me tell you, they did not appreciate it. I just thought you would all like to know that.

Here are some pictures of my family in London. There aren't any pictures of me from this particular trip (a fact I just now realized), but that is not because they don't love me...I hope.

Here are my Mom and Dad in front of our hotel (which was right next to the London Eye and right across from Parliment):

Here are Ellie and my Dad in front of good ol' Big Ben:

Fall From my Window

2005-11-06T15:05:00.000-08:00

Funny Face

2005-11-06T14:37:00.000-08:00

I went to London with my family (three fourths of them, at least) this weekend, and I will write all about it soon, but for now, more from my illustrious roommate!

In referring to her struggle to retain the English history that has been forced upon us:

"I have a hard enough time keeping track of American history, and there is only 300 years of it..."

Blustery Day

2005-11-01T02:52:00.000-08:00

Fall here has been absolutely incredible. We get these bright shiny mornings like today and it just makes you want to actually frolic. There is always a very brisk wind, but this makes it all the better as leaves fall down and blow around in the air and the giant ambers in the back yard toss, causing their multi-colored leaves to shine and sparkle in the sun. Everything is usually wet too (because this bright beautiful morning will most likely turn into a cloudy afternoon and a rainy evening), making the colors more vibrant. It is so beautiful!

Happy November!

(P.S. every time I post on my blog someone email me and tell me to work on my paper. That is inevitably what I should be doing instead.)

Look What I can do!

2005-10-28T02:34:00.000-07:00

I went here last night to a lecture on Anarcho-Capitalism (take a wild guess who got me into that) by David Friedman.

But mostly I just wanted to show you that I have finally put up pictures!

Talk about a downer....

2005-10-26T03:07:00.000-07:00

My blog is worth $0.00.
How much is your blog worth?

My Morning

2005-10-25T02:56:00.000-07:00

"We cannot wake up at 10:30 and then watch Friends! That makes us bad people."

"No, if we wake up at 10:30 and then we kill someon, that makes us bad people. As it is, we are fine."

And She said...

2005-10-24T13:41:00.000-07:00

"Sometimes when I want to laugh, I read my own blog."

-Kathy

The Problem

2005-10-24T11:04:00.000-07:00

There is a big problem with scheduling your only important tutorial for a Wednesday. At first it seems like an ingenious plan; you get both ends of the week to work, and if you want to travel you have the option of a long weekend. At least this was my line of reasoning.

However, their are unanticipated dangers with this seemingly intelligent plan. Once you get done with the tutorial on Wednesday you think to yourself, "Yay! Done with work and time to relax." This sense of accomplishment extends into Thursday, and then it is Friday, and who wants to work on Friday night? Saturday is used to wander the city and get groceries and some tea, and then your friends will propose a once in a lifetime plan for Saturday night. This plan keeps you out way too late, and then Sunday is spent sleeping and trying to remember what it was you were supposed to be doing. Before you know it is Monday and you have a tutorial in two days and no reading done and no paper written and you think to yourself, "What in the world was I thinking?"

I would like to say...

2005-10-21T16:09:00.000-07:00

Hello Everyone!

Bus Balancing

2005-10-13T10:16:00.000-07:00

Never being well aquainted with American public transportation, I am learning many new skills here in Oxford. I live up a big hill to the east of town and to walk into town everyday would take over 45 minutes. With the constant threat of rain and the early sunset (it starts to get dark around 4:00 in the winter), I felt that buying a bus pass would be my best bet of getting where I needed to go dry and with all of my possesions.

Learning how to use public transportation effectively can be a challenge in the States, but here in a country where they don't believe in instructions, or even identifying labels for that matter, it becomes a test of true intellegence and capability.

The first challenge is learning how to hail a bus effectively. Unless one stands in exactly the right place, raise one's arm in a very particular manner, and then prepares oneself to be ready to leap, jump, sprint or run onto a bus that is trying very hard not to stop for you, you will find yourself standing at a lonely bus stop for hours.

After you have gotten on the bus, there are more challenges in front of you. Bus drivers do not like to just sit around, so once on the bus you must head for the seat as quickly as humanly possible. If you aren't fast, the bus will take off, throwing you down the eisle into an unsuspecting Englishman. If the seats are all full you must balance carefully on your feet while driver slams the breaks, hits the eccelerator, and winds through the many round abouts.

Figuring out where to get off the bus is very difficult because the bus driver will only stop if you demand to be let off the bus, and so you have to be pretty sure that you want to get off. No one will ever say the names of any of the streets you are nearing, so you must rely on strange landmarks to know where you are at first. While you don't want to get off too early for fear of being late to your destination, if you miss your stop you are going to be taken to the outer ends of Oxford, never to return.

I can't wait to get home to my car.

Paper Woes

2005-10-11T09:08:00.000-07:00

It is very hard to write a paper while drowning in your own mucus.

I just thought all of you would like to know that.

Odds and Ends

2005-10-07T16:59:00.000-07:00

I hope to write a much more informative post soon about my adventure in the Lake District (which is where I was for a few days this last week), but for now I have just a few things to say:

First of all, my cousin is getting married tomorrow and I won't be there. I am very, very sad, and wish Erin and Corbin all the luck and blessings in the world. I am so happy for you two.

Secondly, I have been tagged by Rebecca and so now I need to share five idiosyncrasies with my reading audience (all three or four of you).

1. I love to travel, but am scared to death of it. If I go to an airport to drop someone off I always wish I was getting on the plane. I love to drive across country, and I love seeing new things, but as soon as I actually set off to go somewhere new I panic and wish I was at home in my bed. This feeling never quite goes away until I do get home, and then I am so excited by the memory of my trip that I want to go out again.

2. Unlike Rebecca, I hate untidiness with a passion, but the floor of our room here in Oxford hasn't been vacuumed this whole month and I don't really care. The only time that dirt and grime gets to me is when I can see it. Dishes must be clean, sinks shiny, and mess invisible, and then the germs can have a field day for all I care. At least I can't see them.

3. The older I get the more I love all things domestic. Fabric softener and a cleaver were my big discoveries of the summer, and having to share a kitchen here in Oxford with crappy utensils and terrible pots and pans is trying. I have no problem cutting study time short to cook dinner for Kathy and myself, and I love making afternoon tea for people. Though I love these things, girls who show off their domestic skills as some sort of credential annoy me a lot, and I have a very hard time with women deciding to cut their education short to run a household. Why does it bother me? I have no good reason.

4. I wrote four post cards the first week of school, but they are still sitting on my desk because I can't ever remember to buy stamps. For some reason, I could remember to be thoughtful enough to do all of the time intensive work to send my friends and family something, but can't get around to the easy part.

5. I judge books by their cover, and I don't feel sorry about it.

In Honor of those Companies who have made Computer Use Bearable

2005-09-27T14:37:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to Google. Without you and the amazing company that is Macintosh, technology would be dead to me.

In other news, I am working on a paper about the composer Benjamin Britten. Word to the wise: never write about a man who was gay in the 30's or else that is all his researchers and biographers will ever talk about. The man made music people!

And to Jadie, I got the tickets!

How Cold Is It?

2005-09-26T14:54:00.000-07:00

It is so cold in my room right now that as I was researching on my computer tonight I actually had the thought, "If I turn the hot water on in the sink in the corner, it might create enough steam to unfreeze my fingers from the keyboard." Then I realized that the room was too big to fill up with the steam from a sink and I was sad.

It is hard to type in winter gloves...

I Support Street Musicians

2005-09-25T01:54:00.000-07:00

On Cornmarket street there are many street musicians. Begging is illegal, but if you play an instrument you can leave an open gutair case and collect all the money people throw at you. I never knew how great street musicians could be. There are some weirdos, like the guy who plays the ukelele and sings in fake Hawaiian, but there are some talented musicians out there too.

One of my favorites is a bagpipper. He was wild hair and a huge bagpipe, and doesn't appear to know any actual songs. He is awesome none the less. There is also a harmonica player who only knows "You are my Sunshine". I become instantly happier when I hear the old southern song being played on the ancient street in Oxford.

My favorite, though, is a one man band I heard last night. He was amazing. He had a drum and cymbal tied to his back and he played them with a string tied to his feet. He had a guitar and his voice was wonderful. I gave him lots of money.

What I learned today

2005-09-20T13:46:00.000-07:00

Did you know that among the many, many verses of the British national anthem there is nestled a little verse that goes like this:

Lord grant that Marshal Wade
May by thy mighty aid
Victory bring.
May he sedition hush,
And like a torrent rush,
Rebellious Scots to crush.
God save the King!

For my Scottish ancestors I am personally affronted. Stupid 18th century imperialists...

What I have been doing that has prevented me from posting pictures...

2005-09-19T14:04:00.000-07:00

Warning: Very very, boring post to follow. This is for my mom, who wanted to read my paper. Read no further in less you are interested in the 12th century university in Europe, or are very bored right now.

The Medieval University: Cultural Landmark

The history of the first universities of Europe began in a time of cultural obscurity. The Dark Ages of European history are so named because of the relatively great amount of mystery surrounding the society of the sixth and seventh centuries. Following the collapse of the Roman empire in Europe, the countries lost a great deal of the Roman advancements and sophistication they had benefited from, and their culture and way of life changed significantly. It was not until the beginning of the twelfth century that Europe began to regain the richness of society and sophistication that they had lost with the fall of Rome. These developments came gradually and many of them came through education.
According to historian H. Rashdall, the seventh century was one of the darkest times in European intellectual history. He claims that much of the Roman civilization survived only through it is association with the Christian Church. Before Rome lost its empire it gained the Christian faith, and this faith remained after the political power of Rome had gone. The cultural climate of the sixth and seventh centuries was such that anything that was not, as Rashdall says, “obviously and immediately useful was doomed to extinction” (30). The church was able to maintain some semblance of Roman culture because Christianity was able to “widen the limits of utility”, thus maintaining more of the Roman culture through its customs, theologians, and books (31).
Because of the religious nature of those who were interested in learning as well as those capable of teaching, education was done mostly, and most significantly by monasteries, while some work and instruction was done at cathedrals. Towards the end of the dark ages, it was the Benedictine monasteries that provided almost the only places of learning (Rashdall, 28).
It was also the monastery schools that first opened their doors to non-monastic students. At the beginning of the ninth century, all schools with more than local importance were monastic. (Rashdall 30) Though their instruction was open to the public, most of their teaching was with the intention of educating those who were devoting their life to the ministry, such as curates or future monks, thus, though education was becoming more common, it was still mainly religious (Southern, 3).
It was not until approximately the year 1100 when education in Europe began to significantly develop and change into a much more modern structure. Several of the historians referenced in this paper refer to the year 1100 as a main turning point in educational development and they do this for several reasons. Firstly, a new kind of theology was being established and used. The development of scholastic theology by men such as Abelard had a profound effect on the education of the time. The theologian and teacher Abelard, “embodied the spirit of the age” (43) according to Rashdall, and was one of the most famous independent tutors in Europe according to Walter Ruegg (6). The scholastic combination of theology with logic and Aristotelian philosophy reintroduced some of the lost Roman knowledge and values while baptizing their work in the currently dominant Christian faith.
This “renaissance of the twelfth century” began in very much the same way as that of the fifteenth did; with a renewed interest in literature (Rashdall 60). Scholastic theologians used Aristotle’s rigorous logic and analytic method to explain and explore their Christian faith. It was this combination, according to Rashdall, that paved the way for the medieval university and the renaissance of learning (44). Abelard and his contemporaries in the twelfth century embodied the old ideals of the Romans and Greeks, and strove to use their logic and rhetoric to further their Christian cause.
The rediscovering of Roman and Greek work soon trickled down from the top scholars of the day to the monastic schools. The schools developed a curriculum of logic, arithmetic, and theology and they began to teach the art of rhetoric alongside the biblical training they had maintained for centuries (Rashdall 32).
The rediscovered importance of their ancient heritage was only one of many reasons why the middle ages fostered a new surge of educational interest. The church was thriving alongside its schools, and the need for new curates encouraged the church to invest in their education; they needed literate candidates to fill the new places in the growing institution (Southern 2). As the twelfth century progressed, the renewed interest in learning caused a surge of potential students, and raised the demand for tutors and places of learning (1). Rashdall confirms that after the year 1000 the recurrence of culture and education began to be indicated by the number of students thronging to schools (32).
As education became more and more desirable to the population and independent tutors more numerous, churches began to request that their recruits have previous education before entering into a position within the church. This allowed them to spend less of their time teaching, and provided a job for tutors who weren’t already monks or vicars. Southern says, “In the past [the church] educated its own recruits, but they were abandoning this and only accepting those who had been educated in secular schools” (Southern 3).
This transition between the popular monastery schools to private and secular tutors is what historians such as Southern view as an initial step towards the medieval university. It was, in many ways, the beginning of “secular” universities, if they can be called that (as they still very much relied on the support and approval of the church for centuries to come), teaching much more than theology for priests.
Along with this shift in educational priorities and practices, the social and political climate of the European landscape was just right for the development of the university in the twelfth century. The western world at large was becoming a little more secure, more enlightened. Between the civilization and Christianization of the Norman conquerors of Britain, and the enlightened reign of the Ottos in Germany, Rashdall believes that Europe was becoming a safer place to live in and study (34). He says, “Order and peace, leisure and security are the most indispensable conditions of intellectual activity” (32); and these conditions were being established in Europe to a greater degree, allowing the scholars to focus on their work and instruction.
The political and cultural situation was one which allowed the universities to develop, but there still must have been a proactive cause behind their establishment. Many enlightenment-influenced thinkers such as the nineteenth century historian C. Meiner attributed the foundation of the university to, “a manifestation of the powerful progress of spirit”. He believed it was through the great increase of scholars and teachers in the middle ages and the successful struggle for the recognition of their rights and privileges that the university developed. According to some, these liberties and privileges could have initially been associations of students in Bologna and groups of students and professors together in Paris that were granted particular “liberties” that then turned into the stadium generale, which became the medieval university ( Ruegg 5).
Ruegg believes that the university began because of the landscape it was placed into. “The new social institution, the university, could have arisen only in the particular economic, political, and social circumstances obtaining in certain cities in the Middle Ages” (11). Not only did they reflect a rediscovered passion for learning and education, universities such as Oxford forwarded the personal agendas of the parties in power, both in the church and government. According to Ruegg, the Popes and church authorities wanted, “rationally intelligible doctrine that could stand up against the varied religious orders and to help wage the battle against the many heresies” (15-16), and the universities were exactly where they could train and find the scholars they needed. The kings on the other hand, liked the universities because it gave their subjects the opportunity to study law and ethics, and they expected their university graduates to be an asset in the administration of government (17). Ralph Evans dates the establishment of the three major universities at Bologna, Paris, and Oxford to approximately 1200, approximately two hundred years after Rashdall indicated a change in educational value (Evans’ lecture).
Though each of the three initial universities began a little differently, it is helpful to trace the history of at least one specifically to understand the development of this new form of education in a particular situation. Since Oxford is where we are, it shall be what we study as one of the first established universities.
Rashdall writes that there is no evidence that any town of Oxford existed before the year 721, when a group of nuns in the order of St. Frideswide began a convent there. The house they inhabited was supposedly on the grounds of the current Christ Church. The first actual notice of “Oxeneford” however, does not appear until 912. According to the Anglo-Saxon chronicle, it was in that year that Edward the Elder “took possession of London and Oxford” (2).
Because of its obscure beginnings, many historians have wondered why a university was started in Oxford in the first place. According to Gordon Leff, Oxford’s greatest initial quality was location. It was the meeting place of many major roads, going to almost all the important cities, and Henry II built a castle a few miles from the town in Woodstock, making it even more convenient for the monarch and his court to come to Oxford (77).
Rashdall, also stresses the importance of geography to Oxford’s development. Though ecclesiastically insignificant, it was a great meeting place for government officials, and was right on the border of Wessex and Mercia, the two most important of the southern kingdoms. It was also relatively close to London, and central enough to be convenient for students coming from the north. Its other significant advantage was its location on the major aquatic thoroughfare, the Thames river . “In short,” says, Rashdall, “Oxford must be content to accept its academic position as an accident of its convenient situation” (9).
This presence of the court and other governing officials is one of the reasons why Oxford became a university, according to Ruegg. Oxford was established as seat of the royal administration and ecclesiastical courts in the 1150’s. This position brought with it wealthy lawyers willing to teach. Within a decade the Oxford school of Law attracted students from all over the country and from the continent. This encouraged one of the best known theologians of the time, Alexander Neckman, to teach at Oxford, and soon others like him. According to this theory, Oxford developed out of collection of private law schools, which explains another of the mysteries of Oxford’s seemingly random development (Ruegg 10).
Oxford is unusual in that it has its origin is seemingly independent of the normal ecclesiastical establishments that produce great places of learning. Oxford had no cathedral or great monastery that the university could have sprung from, as its original location was near to the parish church of St. Mary’s, not St. Frideswides monastery (Evans). Ruegg’s idea of Oxford laying its foundation as a law school makes the absence of a great cathedral or monastic school les mystifying.
Historians such as Rashdall and Leff also believe the school’s development was dramatically increased by a political feud. When Henry II forbade English scholars to work in France in 1167 (during the time of his intense feud with his former friend Thomas Beckett (Schama)), Rashdall claims a university was bound to develop in England. Though neither man is sure why the displaced scholars chose Oxford (perhaps it was the established school of law from Ruegg’s theory), Rashdall says that the course of history proves that Oxford was the place chosen by many (Leff 77, Rashdall 9).
Oxford is a good example of a university that was established because of the ideals and advancements of the age, but it also demonstrates the personal and particular nature of the three original universities’ position in their society. Oxford was not just medieval, it was established and increased because of how well it fit into the local landscape and political workings of England.
Rashdall claims that the medieval university, as is the case with all such institutions, is the reflection of the ideals of its society. “Ideals pass into great historical forces by embodying themselves in institutions” (28). If great institutions are the manifestation of the ideas of the culture that produced them, then there are few better examples of this than the medieval university. The universities on the continent and at Oxford demonstrated the particular aspects of political and social change, in the twelfth century as well as the greater, longer lasting ideals of education and enlightenment that have remained throughout European history.

P.S.

2005-09-13T13:01:00.000-07:00

Pictures coming soon...

Bragging

2005-09-13T12:02:00.000-07:00

Thank you for all of your prayers. They were very much felt. God has taught me a big lesson this week, and I am doing much better. So much better, in fact, I am going to spend the rest of this post bragging. Here it goes.

My professor, who works with us every morning, helped write the Oxford English Dictionary. She is that smart.

When we have a lecturer come in to speak to us about a certain topic, it is because they are the person who wrote THE MOST BOOKS on that particular topic.

I work at a library with millions of books. Millions. Just sitting there, waiting to be read. The best part is, no one can check them out, so they are always there to use when you need them. You have to read them at the library, but they are always there. It's amazing.

Last week I ate at a restaurant that was 700 years old.

Today I had tea in the coffee shop that is now inhabiting the room that many historians think Oxford University started in 800 years ago.

Today I spent prayer time in a cathedral, and it was just me and the cathedral.

I can see the spires of Magdalene college from my window. When I get home from the library everyday I watch the sun set over the spires and the mist come back over the city as I finish my work.

I'll think of more later but for now I hope you all feel extremely jealous.

The End.

Busy Busy

2005-09-10T01:57:00.000-07:00

We have been very busy here in Scholarship and Christianity in Oxford (SCIO). We have had class every day from about 9-5, and went on a few field trips to cathedrals and the like. It has been very educational, but I am afraid to tell you my friends, I am really struggling with living here. Because of certain circumstances I would prefer not to post on the internet, I really need your prayer. Please pray that I could learn to be sad without it overwhelming me, that I would not make my sadness another's responisblilty, and that I would find great comfort soon.

Yesterday we went to St Alban's cathedral and I bought a little card. It may be a little silly, but I sure hope the sentiment is true:

God never would send you darkness
If he felt you could bear the light
But you would not cling to his guiding hand
If the way were always bright;
And you would not care to walk by faith
Could you always walk by sight.

I very much want to enjoy my time here to the fullest, so please pray that this would pass soon and I could get on with my work and life. Growing is always difficult, but I know my suffering now will make me better.

Things I Have Learned

2005-09-04T15:29:00.000-07:00

Things that I have learned while in Oxford so far:

1. You will get wet.
2. The English like their food hot and solid. Their food means business.
3. Walking. There is SO MUCH walking.
4. It is impossible to dress for the weather. You will be either too hot or sopping wet, and you just have to accept that.
5. Who knew that so many pairs of shoes cannot handle a three mile walk without making you wish you didn't have feet?
6. Have I mentioned the walking and the rain?
7. Beer is a way of life. You are supposed to drink it with lunch, dinner, before bed, and after church with everyone else from church.
8. It is a forty minute walk to school and it rains all the time. A bus pass will be absolutely necessary.
9. If you have an American accent you are either oafish and loud, or cute and adorable. Usually, it is the former.
10. California is ugly.
11. The English are witty.
12. We may both be speaking English, but it a totally different language.

Oxford

2005-09-02T05:56:00.000-07:00

I am in it. It is kind of weird to be here, but I think that is mostly the exhaustion talking. More later.

The Last Day

2005-08-25T17:00:00.000-07:00

Today is my last day at work. Well, actually tomorrow is my last day, but it will be spent making sure my replacement knows what to do, so functionally, today is it. It is kind of a weird feeling knowing that I won't be back here for four months, and maybe never in the same capacity. For those of you who know me, you know that this was hardly a dream job, and I complained about it a lot. Despite this, right now I feel like it was finally mine. Working here all summer helped me to really make the job my own. I know more about the job, the people, the industry, and the office than I ever did before. After three years, I finally have a well ordered desk, a brand new computer, my very own responsibilities, and an office space all to myself.

I was the first person in the company to hold my position, and so I got to experiment and develop the job over the years. It went from sitting at someone else's desk on the oldest computer in the building, trying to find something to do, to being a valued and important part of daily business; from having to have my boss read over every email, to overseeing the hiring of two different new positions, and attempting to maintain the sanity of a hectic and rapidly growing office. All I can say is that I hope my replacement appreciates what a kick-ass job this is now that I made it all pretty and tidy for her.

Or at the very least, don't you like the pretty desk lamp and pen holder? I picked them out myself.

Blessing

2005-08-25T15:16:00.000-07:00

Vicky Hinrichs is praying for me and she wants to talk to me about all my problems. I know this doesn't mean anything to any of you, but it means an aweful lot to me. Her phone call this afternoon is the equivelant to Santa Clause moving in next door to a kid who wants a new bike.

Thank God for giving hope when you need it the most.

Popcorn In a Little Candy Shell

2005-08-24T11:12:00.000-07:00

Butter popcorn Jelly Bellys should be counted amoung the great joys of life. I don't know how in the world they make butter popcorn into a candy and make it taste good, but they do and they do it well. I want to get a whole bag of popcorn Jelly Bellys and only eat them for the rest of my life.

The Little Things

2005-08-16T16:07:00.000-07:00

There is something very satisfying about having a desk fully stocked with office supplies. After seeing Office Space I had a sudden, overwhelming urge to by a red stapler. Now I have two. The red stapler was soon joined by a white razor-knife thing that makes box cutting SO easy. Two colors of Precise V7 pens, two containers of tape, some post it notes, a ton of scratch pads and a variety of sharpies, staples, paper clips, and labels now round out my collection of neccessities.

That being said, the worst thing in office world (well, second to having someone blame their mistakes on you) is to have some of your precious supplies taken from you. I am particularly protective over my knife and my stapler. The pens are a lost cause as everyone in this office seems to believe that my desk is easier to access than the supply cabinet, but damn it, leave my knife and stapler alone! One of the staplers has remained safe, but if by any chance my office theif is reading this right now, GIVE ME BACK MY KNIFE AND STAPLER NOW!!! I love and miss them very much.

Out of all the ways to write a sound...

2005-08-11T16:00:00.000-07:00

"Tee hee" for laughter has got to be the worst. Who actually laughs that way? "Tee Hee?"

Really people.

My Grammar, Myself

2005-08-10T11:25:00.000-07:00

Without paragraph breaks my writing would be a mess. Paragraphs break each thought into a lovely, organized package. When I am done with a thought I just take a break, and move on.

Just like that. My life needs paragraph breaks. Wouldn't it be great? After finishing a moment in life you pause, take a step away, and start anew. Each life moment would conveniently build on the next, with no confusion, muddling, mixing, or smearing. We would be a race of pause takers and much anxiety and cosmic multi-tasking would cease.

Paragraph breaks are one of the major reasons why writing is therapeutic. When everything around you seems to be spinning, you are forced to find at least enough organization or meaning in the madness to write in paragraphs.

If this isn't the case, and it seems impossible to form paragraphs as you sit down to write, then maybe you need to reevaluate your thought process and life patterns. Is a life devoid of the ability to write paragraphs worth living? Maybe the paragraph isn't just a pillar of grammatical process, it is a gauge with which to judge the quality of your existence.

Now I just wish I was able to convince my 7th grade students the vital importance of their grammar lessons...

Twelve Dollar Wonder

2005-08-10T11:11:00.000-07:00

You know it is bad when you can't sleep from the heat. You try to help yourself go to sleep by putting moistuerizer on (I believe it makes your face feel better and more like sleeping), but then you sweat so much the moisterizer gets in your eyes and you have to get up again and wash it out of your now red and very unrested eyes.

When it gets to this place, one's red eyes and sad face are a call to action. So, Kathy and I acted. We went to Lowe's last night and bought a bunch of stuff to make our little, sweltering room more tolerable. We bought blinds and tools to put them up with (a 59 piece home repair kit that we are quite proud of) and set to work. After three hours and a call to the Saviors of The Blind Installment (thank you Tim and Brian and the drill that came with you) half of the blinds were up and the room no cooler. That is until we turned on the Twelve Dollar Wonder.

Our room is the only one in the house without a ceiling fan. We looked for a large, room sized fan to buy, but Lowe's was all out of anything that looked remotely helpful. The only fan left was a "desk" fan; a little thing you put on top of a table. We took our chances with the little white fan and bought it anyway. Kathy put it together and we plugged it into the sole remaining outlet. Then our lives change. The Twelve Dollar Wonder circulates cool air around our room. Where it is getting this cool air, we do not know, but there it is and it is great.

Moral of today: The Price of a Good Night's Sleep is Approxiamtely Twelve Dollars and Blinds are a Pain in the Ass.

The End of an Era

2005-08-09T01:23:00.000-07:00

One of the great things about childhood is that there are no ends, just beginnings. There is no time in your short lifespan to develop an attachment great enough to miss, really. I once had a cat named Pepper. I loved that cat and one day, I realized that he wasn't coming home again. I cried until my parents came in to quiet me, and I swore I would never forget that cat. I pictured him as I last saw him, sitting in the garage doorway, and I decided that if every night I remembered that picture of him then I couldn't ever really forget him. It worked. I still have that mental image of that silly little cat seared into my mind. Almost ten years later I picked out a little, smelly (yes, smelly), spikey, disheveled kitten from a box of lovely ones because he looked like that cat.

But the loss of Pepper didn't really hurt. Sure I cried myself to sleep one night, but I can't remember even thinking about it the next day. I never cried over a cat after that. When I was twelve my grandfather died. I didn't really know him, and I always felt like I should have cared about his loss more, but I didn't. He was a man who was distant and uncommunicative (we didn't know about the cancer that killed him, nor the Christianity that saved him till he died of the former), and so I didn't even cry at his funeral.

Now, a grown up heart, that sucker can hurt. It can ache for months, even years. It can suffer the end of an era and never fully recover, and yet eras go by, seemingly uninterested in what they do to us grown-ups. School, jobs, and houses change, people move, relationships fade into nothing, and the poor heart must keep on going.

For me, I am realizing that part of growing up is living with sadness that can't be fixed by a new kitten or a good night's rest. Sometimes things will be bad, they will hurt, and there is nothing that can change that. On second thought, maybe being grown-up is knowing how to move on, how to grow past the past and keep on plugging away. Eras may come and go, but the mature heart knows that a new one is coming and it brings a fresh joy.

Show me the next era and teach me how to hope in it.