Brookes’ Bytes

Well, it’s all over.

As of 23:59:59pm 7.31.2011, my insane book reading drew to a close. No more getting home, immediately wolfing down dinner to throw myself on the couch and plow through a novel until midnight. No more waking up at 6:30am to repeat the same pattern for the rest of the week. No more getting annoyed when work gets in the way of my reading schedule.

3 months ago, I was just a normal Jes (though that’s up for debate) doing my normal Jes thing. And then, I got wind of this Summer Reading Program put on by The Public Library. (You can check out the details here.) I blame Sarah True for tweeting about it near the end of May. It’s all her fault. Stupid Twitter.

When I looked up the library’s program, my immediate thought was, “free stuff for reading? Uh, I’m in!” Then, I had a non-greedy moment and thought it’d be a fun way for me to try get through as many books as possible from my “to-read” list.

As of 6.1.2011, I had over 100 books on my Goodreads account listed as “to-read”. Overwhelming! Every time I’d knock a book off the list, someone with wonderful taste would recommend a book to me that I would just have to read (ehem, Sarah Rezer and Lauren Brookes) or I’d discover that a favorite author has new books out. You get the picture. A couple days before the contest began, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be great to take this summer reading challenge to get a big chunk of my “to-read” books knocked out?” It sounded healthy: I was making a goal; I could stay inside and not get melanoma; I could get those proverbial book-monkeys off my back.

I made a personal commitment to write a small review for every book I’d read. I’m long-winded, wordy and an ex-English major; this is not a sacrifice for me. In addition, I wanted to exclusively do books that I’d put on my “to-read” list prior to 6.1.2011. In other words, no reading tons of crappy short books I don’t care about to boost my numbers. That’s called cheating, folks. I wanted to read books I was interested in reading, use this contest as a motivator to read for pleasure and then just see what happens with the winning of prizes. I wasn’t even thinking about the NOOK Color I could earn. I’d tell myself, “I don’t need an e-reader.” “I won’t even use an e-reader.” “I’m doing this because I want to read books.” Rewind, repeat. Rewind, repeat.

I started taking a book (or two, or 4) to work with me every day. Given that I like young-adult fiction (250-400 pages), I was finishing books nearly every day. When that momentum began to pick up steam, I thought, “Why don’t I shoot for 60 books by July 31st?” In the end, I undershot that goal. Initially, I was really annoyed about it but now I’m over it. (Deep breaths everyone.) I’m not giving in to that internal desire to give myself a flaying. I’m repeating things like, “I did the best I could” and “we’ll see what happens” and am trying to resist the urge to go camp outside the library until they calculate who wins the NOOK for the Wyoming Branch. I don’t have a problem.

I learned a few things about myself during this time of crazy, obsessed reading that I argue is perfectly acceptable behavior. This summer, I attacked books with a ferocity lying dormant from my schoolgirl days. Imagine me as an 8-year-old ignoring trivial things like my sister shoving baby dolls in my face to engage me in human interaction and you’ll pretty much get the gist. When I’m reading, it’s like the world is dead to me. Either that or I’m dead to it: a reading zombie, if you will. (Don’t worry; I won’t eat your brains.) Ironically, this level of dedication and spirit makes me feel young and alive. Turns out it doesn’t take much to awaken the zombie within me; the shadow of a hope in winning prizes was all it took.

July 31st marked the end of the Great Book Race, a worthy title as I’m sure it was a momentous occasion for you all comparable to the invention of the light-bulb. The zombie within me wants to know if I get a NOOK. She won’t shut up about it. I have her under control…barely. I’m trying to remind her that we are now free to do all kinds of other things, like going outside and interacting with humans. She doesn’t care. I’m keeping her at bay by toting a half-read novel in my purse but being “too busy” to read it. She keeps practicing an acceptance speech, you know, just in case:

“Thank you Wyoming Branch Library for this great opportunity to challenge myself! I’m grateful for all the members in my book club who fully embraced my craziness. I’m grateful to Goodreads who overwhelmed me with book titles until I just had to “take care of it”, mafia-style. I’m grateful for my awesome boss, who let me read at work when I didn’t have things to do. My apologies to Nayt and Toby for my mindless neglect; I didn’t mean to, I love you. And Sarah True, you’re such an enabler. Finally, I’d like to thank all the authors who’ve entertained me, taught me, saddened me, maddened me and allowed me to glimpse reality this summer.” Don’t cue the music!

So, what’s next? I can’t lay the reading gauntlet fully down now that I’ve had a gorging drink of fiction. I hope to tackle another 30.5 books before New Year’s Eve which would make it an even 100 books read this calendar year. (It’s really not about the numbers, I promise.) As December 31st is 4 months away, I think I can risk disengaging zombie intensity mode. Meanwhile, it’s nice to be aware of things like summer and human conversation. Jes is back!

(For those of you who like lists and stats, check out my Summer Reading note on Facebook.)

I’m intrigued by the psychology of the week after Christmas. Every year, without fail, my expectant joy for Christmas Day is casually replaced with newfound conviction to be as healthy as possible. I’m reminded that I have control over this body of mine that has otherwise been in neglect for the previous 11 months. New Year’s resolutions are like a chance to reinvent myself, to aim a little higher and dream out loud. Dreams can be like birds in a covered cage, sleepy and forgettable, until they stretch their wings and remember the taste of sky.

Here are some dreams I’d like to set free this year:

In my ever-present desire to use my craft room for good (and not evil?), I’d like to continue to glean yarn and paper. This is a goal that sets a small fire under my pants and I have no problem with that. Birthdays and the Healing Center are great reasons to craft. I’ve begun collecting easy crochet patterns to reduce my “stash” of fiber. I’ve got a few granny squares that are itching for buddies in the hopes of transforming into an afghan one day. I’ve got a couple Archiver’s gift cards that are burning a hole in my pocket. I’ve got a few hundred pieces of paper that are crying to be used. My craft room’s a bird that can’t be quieted any longer.

Memorial Day, November 6th, Thanksgiving Day and December 18th, 2010 all had something in common this year: they are dates I walked in a 5K. The grumbly, old granny in me was trumped by a desire to do something active and good for the local/global community. I’m reluctant to admit that I enjoy 5Ks, as I know it will be further weight against lethargy in 2011. Laziness is at an all-time height for me in the winter, but two meaningful Christmas presents have made the couch less inviting for 2011: a pair of fleece-lined athletic workout pants and a wick-away running t-shirt. My goal is to pin that lazy, well-meaning do-gooder under my skin and strap a pair of tennis shoes on her. For 2011: one 5k a month. This bird is gonna fly.

Nayt took me to the Over the Rhine concert at the Taft for my birthday this year. Karin explained the poem and meaning behind one of her new songs, “There’s a Bluebird in my Heart.” I’d like to read you the lyrics to the first verse:

“There’s a bluebird in my heart
One that’s drowning in its own wistful tune
For fear of pending tomorrow and lofty full moons
And never knowing where to start…”

May you set dreams free this year.

My father in law sings this incredibly morbid birthday death song every time someone has a birthday. Here are some of the lyrics:

“Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday! Now you’ve aged another year. Now you know that Death is near. Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday! ”

I haven’t reached an age yet where death scares me. It’s something I rarely think about. Instead of begrudgingly accepting birthday accolades, knowing I have turned a proverbial “halfway point” in my life, I am sickeningly proud of becoming older. This surprises people I think. Maybe I’m suffering from some delusional complex that “with age comes respect from everyone younger than you.” Part of me can’t wait for the day I have gray hairs and can tell people I know more than them. Hmm. Maybe I suffer from a different complex in retrospect. ☺

The optimist in me says the best part of my life is yet to come. Maybe that’s why I look forward to my 30s and 40s and 50s.

I was reading an excerpt from a book the other day. You can find a link to the chapter I read here.

What struck me was the pepperbush anecdote. When I think about my funeral, I don’t want the anecdotes to be, “Jes stockpiled a huge inventory of paper crafts, because she loved to make cards.” Or “Jes owned 23 cats throughout her lifespan. She couldn’t say no to welcoming in a stray.” Or “Jes was a sweet person.” Or “Jes sang.” I’d rather it be: “Jes’ generosity touched millions of lives in India, because of the many children she and her husband sponsored and adopted into their family through Compassion International.” Or “Jes was compelled to give her life in service to women in impoverished nations by teaching them crafting as a trade.” Or “Jes loved the Lord more than anything else in her life: here’s the evidence we saw of that.”
Significance. I want my life to MEAN something. Not just be an anecdote in a family tree.
I want my life to be more than punching a clock so I can pay Sallie Mae school loans off, or leveling my Human Warrior to 225, or learning to crochet sweaters, or owning a bunch of cats, or making cards, or baking pies or being “happy” or buying stuff to fill a house…
I feel like shaking my soul by the shoulders and crying “WAKE UP! You are more than what you have become!”

Ever feel like that?

So, this year, instead of waiting until New Year’s to make a resolution, I’m making a birthday resolution. I will NOT be content with the mundane. I will not let my life spiral into a suffocating coffin of materialism, egotism and self-pleasure. I want my life to mean more, and I’m starting with now. You all are my witnesses.

“That’s great Jes, but what does that MEAN?”

It means: Jes gets real about generosity, which means Jes sacrifices some extras (a.k.a eat breakfast to get energy, not Starbucks). It means: Jes needs to be content with the WEALTH of crap just lying around my closets, storage bins and craft room for crying out loud. It means: Jes thinks outside herself and starts putting disciplines in her life to give of herself to others (more volunteering, even if my small group doesn’t organize it!). And it means, Jes talks to God about what He’s stirring up in her, so that she’s willing to abandon everything at the drop of a hat and do the scary things He wants her to do without question. It means, being willing to take a risk for the sake of someone else’s healing.

It means, Jes stops living her life for herself. Because the moment I resign myself to that, I have already died.

Time to wake up.

I figured since my friend Jim was talking about beliefs I would talk about them as well. While Jim is talking about some religious beliefs, I will take a more academic approach to belief. So I figured a brief introduction is in order as to what most philosophers define a belief as.

Most people, and by people I mean contemporary philosophers, use the term “belief” to refer to the attitude we have that we regard as true. (while the notion of truth is a whole other debate, I am going to table that discussion for another time.) I think it is important to note though that the term “belief” does not imply any uncertainty or any extended reflection about the matter in question as is often the usage in speech. We say this because only a few things can be at the forefront of the mind at any given moment. It is nitpicky, I know, but that is how philosophers think.

Since most beliefs are mundane, such as the belief that I have a head, the formation of beliefs is one of the most basic and important features of the human mind. This all leads to a bunch of other problems, most notably in the “mind-body problem” as o how a physical person can have beliefs, and at what point do our beliefs become knowledge. Most of this falls under epistemology.

Now, most characterize a belief as a “propositional attitude.” A proposition is taken to be whatever a sentence is about. To use an example from Jim’s blog, “hell is real” in english and “L’enferest reel” in french express the same proposition. Thus, a propositional attitude is a mental state of having some attitude, stance, take, or opinion about a proposition. Most discussions of beliefs are embedded in discussions of propositional attitudes.

Next I hope to briefly cover what it is to believe and representationalism.

There’s no need for any other words starting with “n” here, cause this post will be all about Nayt.

As I’m typing this, my husband is getting on his bike to ride home from Best Buy in Tri-County with a copy of Starcraft 2…I think that’s a great way to start a paragraph about my husband. It says so much.

Since I’ve been with Nayt, I’ve learned that boys like to play games as a way to bond with each other. I’ve learned that boys can be cat people. I’ve learned that a pitcher of cold iced tea and a piece of cheesecake can be considered “dinner.” I’ve learned that a long bike ride while listening to podcasts on tech toys will give him the space to let his mind breathe. I’ve learned that he holds his stress in his back and shoulders. I’ve learned that he will mow the lawn even though he’s allergic to grass. I’ve learned that adventure is important: even if it’s fulfilled in video games, tv shows or geocaching. I’ve learned that Nayt worships by serving. I’ve learned that boys can’t help it if their farts are stinky…after all, who made the chili have beans in it? That would be me!

Nayt is a boy. Therefore, becoming friends with him was weird for me. I speak girl pretty fluently, I think. Well, a certain dialect of girl: artsy, feminine and silly. Nayt speaks boy, but a certain dialect of boy: techie, sarcastic and silly. It’s sometimes hard to translate what he’s saying into something I can process in my girly brain. But man is it worth the effort. Sometimes on a ride home from work, Nayt will just gush about a random article he read or installing network cables and the jargon is like, “huh? what does THAT mean?” But he’s just speaking Nayt. Adjust your tuning dial and you’ll get him in strong.

He’s pretty good at translating Jes. He can tell when I need space, or when to turn on Over the Rhine when I request “any tunes.” He knows why a craft room is important. He thanks me when I make his favorite foods. He gives me long hugs. He makes me laugh. He takes me to UDF when I need an orange freeze. He plays with our cat. He watches foreign movies with me. He sits through ballets and then asks me questions about it after. He talks to me about important things like church politics, the fundamentals in religion, physics and science in relation to philosophy and religion, what he’s learning about Scripture, hurdles in communication between humans…he’s a walking, living, breathing analyst. Nayt is never boring. I could never think the phrase, “geez, I wish Nayt would do something interesting.” Lol. He’s always doing something new, thinking something new, trying something new. I love this about him.

Of all the stories I could tell, I will just tell one: when we started dating, Nayt wanted to do something special for the first birthday I had when we were together. I was living in Clifton in a huge apartment with my friend Sara. This apartment had a fireplace that we had never used, due to lack of firewood and my lack of fire-making skills. For my birthday, Nayt had some big plan, that he had to throw out the window based on some comments I had made leading up to my birthday. Apparently I was stressed out with full-time school and full-time work and didn’t want to think about DOING anything. So, taking that as a major hint (when I wasn’t trying to squash his plans at all but was just venting), he decided to spend a week chopping firewood at his house. And for my birthday, he gave me a roaring fire in my apartment. I was born in November and at that point, it wasn’t that cold. The fireplace hadn’t been cleaned very well and the floo was clogged, so smoke went EVERYWHERE. But I loved it. When I saw his blistered hands and smelled the campy smell, I knew he loved me. Nayt is good at sacrifice. He laid down his plans for what he thought I wanted. Who wouldn’t love a guy like that?

I love you, baby.

Always,
your Jes

Mail: I love getting snail mail. I like opening the mailbox (or mail flap in our case) and seeing a non-bill related piece of post. It’s nice to break up the bills with non-bills. My friend Lauren and I have been sending journals with letters back and forth since we both went to college. Sometimes it’s a month (or two, or four) before I send it. But it always makes my day when I see that big puffy envelope with Lauren’s handwriting on it. I know that email is much easier and quicker as a method of correspondence. But there’s something elegant about a piece of paper with someone’s handwriting on it. The time that it takes me to hand-write anything is much greater than the time it takes me to type it, so on the surface, a hand-written letter means a larger investment of time into the recipient. I also like to hold things in my hand while I read them. That’s probably why people like me will continue to frequent libraries and buy books and write letters, even when e-cards, e-mail and e-books dominant the market. Snail mail may be old school, but it’s cool!

Molasses cookies: My mom gave me this fantastic cookie cookbook that I cherish. It’d probably be something I’d put in a fireproof box, if we had one. Mostly cause you can’t freakin find it on amazon…and whatever you can’t find on amazon.com is pretty unfindable. This cookie cookbook contains some of the best recipes I’ve ever tried. And it’s nice when you try recipes that turn out right the first time you risk the ingredients! My molasses cookie recipe hails from this wonderful cookbook. To tell you that my molasses cookies are unbelievably good would seem arrogant, but it’s true. They are DELICIOUS. Imagine a ginger snap that’s four times bigger than a ginger snap and SOFT. Imagine a fresh, warm batch cooling on a sheet of aluminum foil while you pour yourself a glass of milk…imagine taking a bite into a fresh, hot cookie that tastes like a spicy burst of heaven and you would begin to understand why I love this recipe. Mmmmmm. Maybe I should go make some right now!

Moms: There’s something about moms: they know just the right words to say when you feel like a loser, they are the best comforters when you’re sick, they know your favorite things and remember the parts of your history that you forget. No matter how old I am, when I’m sick, I wish my mom were with me to take care of me. The last time I was really sick, I was actually at her house. She rubbed my back while I puked into a toilet and when I was upset cause I HATE throwing up, she said, “I know, Jes. This is awful.” She didn’t sugar-coat stuff, she just agreed that it’s miserable to be sick. Oddly enough, that made me feel better. Moms change nasty diapers, handle backtalk and kids leaving the nest. Moms are creative. They pour themselves into their children. I know my mom is special to me, cause she’s good at making me feel like it’s ok to express myself. I want to be a mom like my mom.

Musicals: “There’s no business like show business like no business I know!” Name THAT musical. The first musical I ever saw was The Sound of Music. My Uncle Water and Aunt Leah bought me that Anniversary edition that was two videocassettes with a cassette tape of the songs as a bonus. I think I was 7 or 8. I remember only watching the first part and then being so disappointed that the second tape was mostly Nazi stuff. I loved the beginning, with the mountains and the orchestra and the swells until that moment at the clearing where Julie Andrews is spinning around and sings: “The hills are alive…” Man, you can’t beat that. All those Rodgers and Hammerstein movies were GREAT. I remember Mom liking the heroine in State Fair, cause she was an alto. And Shirley Jones in Oklahoma and Carousel; Dad used to make fun of the way she sang with her mouth REALLY wide open. Musicals combined two of my favorite things: stories and music. To a kid, people flailing around to music in the middle of Saltzburg seems perfectly normal. My sister and I danced and sang in the Fircrest grocery store all the time! Even now, when I go to a musical, my heart starts beating faster when the orchestra swells and the curtains part and the chorus comes in. It doesn’t have to be something serious. Legally Blond was pretty entertaining. And don’t get me started on Les Miserables, or Wicked, or Ragtime…musicals allow me to embrace two parts of my self: reader and singer. So, turn up the showtunes so I can prance around my house!

Laughter: Contagious laughter, my dad’s wheezy laugh, Nayt hysterically laughing at some tv show…these things give my abs a workout. You can tell when someone is appeasing the not-so-funny amateur comedian’s joke. And you can tell when someone is TRULY laughing. I love it when I’m with my family or my in-laws and stories are told that make everyone laugh. Eyes light up. And the whole room feels warmer.

Libraries: There’s a whole world of literature that would never be read by us “commonfolk” if there weren’t public libraries. Even as an adult, walking into one makes me feel good…even though the funding for libraries has been shrunk and now I check out books with a computer not a human, which is weird. I couldn’t be in a book club if it weren’t for libraries, cause I can’t afford to buy a new book every month. And the library has DVDs and CDs! I remember, as a high schooler, borrowing all kinds of music that I wouldn’t go purchase. It was like taste testing, only with sound. Best library I’ve ever been to? The public library in Westerville, Ohio. (That’s a suburb of Columbus.) That library is HUGE, very clean, has comfy chairs and a whole video section that’s like a tiny Blockbuster inside the library. Otterbein College was so lucky to sit nearby it. Go invade a public library and read some books!

Life: Ever get that feeling that you are alive? Not just breathing, but fully functioning as the best of yourself? Sometimes I feel like I’ve reached a rich point in time…as if the timeline of my life is mostly made up of carrots, bread and tuna fish and there are certain pockets that are chocolate cake with creamy icing. This really is a gift: living. Being able to change and grow, to have another chance. To wake up another day. To try again. To work hard. To be. We have absolutely no say in how long we live…when we really think about it. I can workout and eat healthy but still die at any moment. My taking care of myself doesn’t guarantee my future. Today is brand new. What are you gonna do with it?

Light: There’s this moment every morning where I realize it’s morning because there’s light hitting the room or my face. I love this feeling. There’s a split second where I feel warm and content and safe because it’s light outside. The sun hits our house just right that it floods the extra bedroom (my crafting space) with all this beautiful orangey light in the morning. Since I get my creative energy in the morning, I love this. It feels like God has opened a cosmic can of wonderfulness and just poured it all over that space. The way the sun looks rising and setting is very beautiful to me. I’m constantly distracted by this when I’m driving. Lol. I’m not a nighttime person. I get sleepy as soon as it starts to be twilighty…or at 9pm, whichever comes first. I enjoy summer and spring because the amount of lighttime is longer. During the winter, it feels like there’s just enough light to cover your workday and then it’s “lights out!” :-/ Me no likey. Bring on the light!

Kindness: Taking a moment to do something considerate for someone else…thinking outside of yourself: this is kindness. Holding a kid’s hand when they’re scared, gently petting a kitty who has taken over your lap when you want to get up, smiling at the stranger in the grocery aisle, giving your family members hugs, listening when someone is upset, giving birthday presents, laughing at jokes, praising someone’s hard work, walking through Mom’s garden for the hundreth time to see what’s blooming.

Kindling: I love fires…contained in bonfires or fireplaces, not just raging fires. My favorite part is collecting sticks and bits of bark and newspaper and shoving it under the logs. I add WAY too much kindling to my fires, which is why Nayt is much better at making them. For one of my birthdays, Nayt gave me the present of a roaring fire in the fireplace. It was wonderful. And I love going to Cedar Campus and making a fire in the stove in the Crew Cabin. Who cares that it’s summer? Bring on the kindling!

Kitchens: Kitchens with LOTS of counter space. Kitchens with ovens and fridges and KitchenAids and microwaves and toasters and food to cook…kitchens are awesome. My dream kitchen has a built in pantry and a counter with lots of outlets so I can plug in a toaster, blender and Kitchen Aid to leave out for use all the time. I don’t know about you, but if the appliance is accessible, I am more inclined to use it. And I’d like a nice, non-tiled flat surface for using a rolling pin. And a HUGE oven that has a drawer under it that can adequately hold all my baking tins and muffins tins and cookie sheets. Cause right now they are EVERYWHERE. Lol. I love feeling homey in the kitchen on a cold day baking up something warm. I’m still learning to cook things, and trying new recipes scares me sometimes (what if it doesn’t turn out good and then I wasted $$$ and time?). At the end of the day, the kitchen is probably where I spend the majority of my chore time. And there are worse places to spend the majority of your chore time…:-)

Kitties: Furry bundles of cute! Kittens are the best, especially when they fit in your hand (or frog pocket hehehe) and like to chase each other. Toby and Piper were the cutest kittens in the history of the world. I love coming home to a happy kitty. In the morning, Toby doesn’t even care if I feed him as long as he gets to invade my lap. He wants to snuggle and it’s so cute. Sun-bathing kitties, ferocious playful kitties, sleepy kitties…I like them all. I’m so glad I married a guy who’s a cat person. And kudos to God for creating such adorable animals! Seriously want to squeeze my cat when he makes cute faces. (He doesn’t really appreciate this though.) Toby’s trying to crawl into my lap as I type this…awwwwww

Jingle Bells: When I was a little girl, we’d go for drives when it would turn dark in December and look for Christmas lights. Everytime we’d see a house with some, mom would yell, “Jingle Bells!” It’s a tradition I still do today. Now when I see Santa in twinkly lights or a string of blue icicles that are glowing, I say “Jingle Bells!” A family tradition that let’s me remain a child.

Job: I don’t mean the book of the Bible. I’m grateful to have my job. I’m lucky to work in a place where I can give input and make a difference in the lives of so many people. I’ve had some stinky jobs, the worst of which was probably working in a smoke filled diner with sucky tips. Working for a dermatologist is pretty good in comparison. And it’s a great feeling to be slowly paying off school debt with every paycheck I earn.

Joy: Letting loose with the windows down in the car, singing regardless of who might hear me. Seeing my niece’s face when she spies a kitty. Getting a second hug from Nayt for a really good birthday gift. Little moments that mean a lot. Joy is so important. Celebrate the good things.

Justice: At the end of the day, the bad guys should be punished and the good guys should be rewarded. That’s why I can read Revelation and get a sense of satisfaction. Justice prevails. People who are cruel to animals, cheat people out of money, exploit women and children, steal, kill, destroy…this is not acceptable behavior. I’m glad to know that God does not let this all go without due justice. I’m glad to know He’s on the side of the weak and the helpless. So move, God, and let me NEVER be on the side of Your wrath.

Ice-Cream: MMMMMMMMMM, so grateful that someone thought up ice-cream. It’s creamy, fatty, sweetened goodness. What’s not to like? I love Chocolate Marshmallow and Peach from UDF, Banana from Cold Stone (as aforementioned), Phish Food by Ben n Jerry’s, Mango Sorbet by Haagan Daas, Vanilla Bean by Bryer’s, and my favorite thing to get at Graeter’s is the Persian Nut Sundae: a jumbo scoop of vanilla topped with caramel that’s been swirled with whipped cream and nuts. The combination is amazing. You all should try one. Seriously. Now I want ice-cream for breakfast. Lol.

Identity: I think humans are really into this, at least here in our developed country. We have books to tell us who we are, tests we can take, stuff that explains what our names mean, etc etc etc. We are searching for definition. For me, I want to be known as having some static characteristic. I.e, “that’s Jes, she’s an artist.” or “that’s Jes, she’s creative.” Who I am is something that I struggle to pin down at times, balancing my right brain tendencies with those very few left brain moments. Although I surprise myself at times with those methodical moments. Never-the-less, it’s nice to know who you are.

Imagination: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, imagination. Without it, this world would be a dismal place with no escape. With it, we can envision new things, things yet to be. In this way, imagination reminds me of faith. Imagination is what allowed me to dream as a kid. We lose the social endorsement to imagine out loud when we become adults. It turns into dreaming or creativity that then becomes critiqued by realists. When have you seen an adult say, “let’s imagine that we’ve got wings and we just jumped off a mountain and we’re soaring through the air” and then seen them “fly” all over their yard? Even I would think that’s a crazy person if he wasn’t entertaining some kids.

India: There’s a song by Caedmon’s Call called “Mother India” that makes something in my heart swell. “Father God, you have shed your tears for Mother India…” This is a country I would like to travel to. It’s more than just their amazing spices like curry, that they invented chai tea, make fantastic jewelry and boast some of the beautiful countryside EVER. I want to go for more reasons than just to stand in places I’ve read about in British Literature. I’ve got a 6 year old nephew there. Well, he calls me Aunt Jes anyway. His name is Chandraiah. He lives very close to the sea with his parents and his older sister. He rides an ox cart to school, and he is learning English. I’m looking forward to a letter from him when he learns to write. So far, I’ve only been communicating with his translator. I would like to go to India to soak in the culture, drink some tea and meet Chandraiah when he’s older. I think God is breaking my heart a little for this country. It might become my “far” place. For now, I’ll continue to chow down at Indian buffets and drink my tea and write to Chandraiah. God can do what He wants with my heart and India.