Inspiration

It seems the more I search for moments of inspiration, the less control I have over them. I go to places where I had a great thought, or try to feel some emotion that became the beginning of a story, But I am discovering that It's not from me that the stories come. The moments of inspiration are often from an object, a thought, a scene, a feeling, which are not mine. Even if they come from my own mind, It is not my mind, It's the mind that was given to me by God. every idea I have is attributed to Him. I Am not original. I am simply a conduit between seeing the stories the world holds, or the ones that God gives, and putting pen to paper. I am not a writer, I am simply a messenger; But even a messenger I am glad to be.

a poem

I wrote a poem about someone today, a certain someone who pushes my buttons.

An angry little man, who always has a smile,

And angry little man, who will only last a while.

An angry little man who will not lift a finger,

Unless pointing at another man to get out of trouble.

Always speaks his mind,

Never subtle.

 An angry little man who always takes the credit

And never gives it, not by check, cash or debit.

An angry little man who holds a big fat grudge,

will someday hear the hammer of a little angry judge.

Irresponsibility

Sorry I haven't been blogging much, Ive been busy, theres over 200 guests here and I'm basically responsible for making sure they have what they need. needless to say, this gets tiring after awhile. the past few days I feel like ive been walking around in a haze. when I get home I want to do something thats somewhat fun, so I watch a movie or read something before going to bed, but when guests are here, I usually end up staying here very late taking care of them, so I get home pretty late. by the time I watch a movie or a show, Its even later. Ive been getting about 6 hours of sleep a night, which Isn't bad, Its just not what I'm used to. I have enough sleep to be functional all day, just not energetic to any extent.

Being tired doesn't help my nerves either. yesterday I walked home after lunch because I had seen enough of my boss that day and didn't want him to drive me home. usually after lunch theres a long interval where I do nothing until dinner, and most of the time I do nothing then also, so i figured I would come back during dinner. well right when I got home, I got a call from the boss, he came over, picked me up and brought me back to the side I had just walked from (keep in mind, this is NOT  short walk) just to make me clean a few paper towels off the floor and refill the paper towel holders. He wasted gas to make me do something he could have VERY easily done himself. seriously, it took like 5 minutes. I got a ride home from someone else after sitting there for hours with nothing to do.

Today, he brought me into the same bathrooms, and not only told me to pick up the paper towels on the floor, but literally stood there and pointed at them as I did. his hand was like 3 inches away from the stuff he was pointing at. It would've taken just as much effort to grab them and throw them away himself. I was about to say something, I was so mad. It was on the tip of my tongue when I stopped myself. He isn't worth the effort, and his work ethic (or lack therof) will never change. I just hate knowing I'm being used, I don't mind fulfilling a need, but that wasn't a need, that was just him being a lazy nazi.

At least watching these korean guests hitting each other all the time is brightening my day.

Thanks for listening to my rant, less angry blogs to come on the weekend.

new york

This is not a story of adventure, this is not a story of holiday cheer, this is not a story of all the sights and wonders of a city. This is simple story of humbleness, of sincere grief, and of compassion.

Today I went to new york for a few hours with the director, sometimes he goes there just to find a homeless person and give them a meal, a new testament, and just some company for a while. I regret to admit that my first selfish thought that lingered in the back of my mind was, "how generous we are, to go and give our time and money to someone in need" I tried to push the thought down as much as possible, but the true experience I had demolished it completely. we walked for quite a while looking for a homeless person on the side of the road, they were very far and few in between (probably due to the freezing weather and windy conditions). we found one, Ralph asked if he needed a meal, he came up with some excuse that I only heard pieces of, true or not, he wasn't interested. we walked quite a ways further, and came upon another man, sitting outside an old catholic church, with a sign that read: "lost apartment, job and family... please help". We were obviously skeptical at first about the truth of the sign, but ralph offered to buy him a meal anyways and he simply stared and said "sure". we walked to a restaurant and on the way He told some of his story, which I heard very little of because of the city ambience. on the way he stopped to pick up 3 pennies that were on the sidewalk. Once at the restaurant, ralph asked alot of questions, mostly things like "where are you from, what was your job, how long have you been here?" He explained how he used to work on a fishing boat, he has been doing it his whole life, but they decided to use his boat during a storm and it got damaged or something, he was laid off. when he was asked about his family he was obviously fighting back tears. I said very little, mostly listening, but asked probably the stupidest question I could've, "so where do you stay in the city?". I suppose in my civilized, americanized and ignorant subconscious, I pictured a homeless shelter on every corner or some old abandoned house where all the homeless could go for shelter. his answer was simple, and yet shocking, "nowhere" he said. I had never thought of the prospect of having absolutely nowhere to go. We talked a little more, after he finished eating, ralph gave him a new testament and some gift cards, he thanked us and we parted ways.

It was only when In christmas eve service however that it really hit me, here was this man: homeless, alone and on the streets in the cold. He wasn't begging, he wasn't even holding out a cup. he simply sat there with his head down, hopeless...utterly hopeless. and as I was standing in that warm, festive church service singing songs of joy, surrounded by people that would gladly shake my hand and simply talk with me...he was out in the cold, probably just sitting like he was, invisible to the eye of everyone else and void of friends or family. At that moment I felt the deepest compassion for this man, I felt his pain, his loneliness, his sorrow. when we are wondering whats underneath the tree this christmas, he is wondering how he will get his next meal, and how he will stay warm enough through winter. please pray for this man, his name was Don. pray that he reads that new testament, pray that his needs are met, pray that he comes to know the Lord if he doesn't.

and one last thing, be grateful for what you have. If you ever find yourself complaining, remember don.

old games and new ideas

Today I was assigned guest duty, which Pretty much consists of checking to make sure the trash is out, the toilet paper is stocked and the guests havn't locked themselves out of their rooms...again. all of that usually take about 5 minutes, and I only do it 3 times in a day, leaving the rest of the day to just sit in the cafeteria and not go crazy (that last part is optional). so I got a moment of inspiration and worked on a script all day long, I don't think I stopped until around 6:30 pm. after work I went to a friends house to play the legend of zelda, thats right the very first zelda game. When I told him I hadn't played it, he looked at me like I was no longer a part of the masculine gender. So, being a fan of games, and not a fan of being a woman, I took up this challenge to beat this game. though I'm not sure how spending countless hours sitting and staring at a screen raises your testosterone, but hey, who's to argue with a W.O.W. addict and a fan of kpop, sounds like a man to me...so anyways, I pretty much suck at this game and every time I die, I'm referred to as a "noob" which comes from the word newb, which comes from newbie. so yes, I am a newbie, how is that a derogatory term? its like saying "you human..." to insult me. no, please stop, don't call me what I am, it hurts too much. interesting verbal assault tactics there gamers...

Yes Ive heard the term, but I've never called anyone that, and never been called it myself. frankly because the games I'm invested in I have played for too long to be considered a noob, and I just find the term sounds kind of idiotic, It doesn't quite roll off the tongue.

Old stuff, good stuff and dead stuff

 I went to an antique store with my aunt and uncle, it was quite big and had lots of old stuff (naturally).  and while they had fun buying decor and whatnot, I scoured the place looking for just one thing I would be interested in buying that could also fit back into my already tightly packed carry-on. after walking through the store 2 or three times (and trust me, thats a much bigger feat than it sounds) I found myself empty-handed and bored, so i found an old jar and took a picture that only a few of my close friends will understand the reference to:

After a visit with a few of my other relatives in NC, we picked up some food from a place I truly miss:

You know that graveyard I was talking about? well I finally got bored enough to walk through it. As strange as it may sound, there is something sacred about a graveyard; something that keeps you from running or shouting or doing anything much but stand and walk slowly. I found myself more interested in the design of the headstones and how old some of them were then contemplating the prospect of death. I already know what happens when I die, no need for contemplation. though I decided that I would like to be buried when I finally bite the dust; because if my future generation is anything like me, they will appreciate the design of a unique headstone and a meaningful epitaph. though If I never get around to carving my own stone, I wouldn't want anyone to spend money on my lifeless body, just throw it in the nearest ditch with some purple flowers. 

...On the other hand, I think a viking funeral would be pretty awesome.

North Carolina

If ever there was a sleepy town, my aunt and uncle live there in north carolina. I almost never see anyone outside, except for the occasional unsupervised kid throwing rocks at something, or torturing a dog. Everyones house has some type of overgrown weed and dead or dying grass. theres a graveyard right up the road; which, sadly, Is the most interesting part of north carolina Ive seen since ive been here. My aunt and uncle are nice, I love how my uncle always makes jokes and my aunt takes them so seriously. my uncle's a slob, a clown, unhealthy and generally fun to be around, my aunts a perfectionist, way too serious, eats healthy, and uptight. They are like night and day, but they love each other.

I am glad to get away from all the work up at the mission, if nothing else its been relaxing. I would go crazy if I lived here though, it drives me nuts just seeing the surroundings. I become antsy, almost like how someone with claustrophobia thinks "Im never gonna get out of this small space" except its more like " I really hope I don't end up here in my old age". I think its my traveller's spirit, It may not seem like it, but it eats me up if I'm in one place for too long. Ive experienced staying put...Its time for adventure. I'm sure one day I will be content to stay in one place and die there, but I feel something right now that cant be stopped, this ever-bulding yearning to just go, to go anywhere and everywhere, to scour the globe and leave no stone unturned. Patience has plateaued and my heart beats faster every day, I feel like a runner at the start line: no time to think of the finish line, just to focus on running the race.

There is a certain beauty to the place, like anywhere, but a dark beauty: one born of lust and not of love, a beauty that corrupts or drives you crazy. Everyone I've seen here is either retired or standing on the side of the road, drinking. every night I fall asleep thinking,"maybe I'll treat myself and go walk through the graveyard tomorrow."

Im glad I'm here, but I'm glad I'm leaving.

opportunities

The missions director took me to lunch yesterday, I always love spending time with bill, he is so easy to talk to and always finds some way to make you smile. although he towers above everyone else at the mission, he is by no means prideful or boastful in personality. He is one of the most gentle people here and sometimes I have to let him know he is never treading on eggshells when he asks me a question. He raised my hopes for going to germany when he mentioned a program that they mean to put in place soon. apparently the german government profits from bringing in americans and teaching them english because then said Americans are more inclined to stay in germany and send word back home about how great germany is. Ive heard from almost everyone that the HQ in germany is much more organized than the one here, meaning everything is clean, you always show up on time, and everything goes according to plan. This is very different from the american mindset (especially the hawaiian mindset) and would take a bit of getting used to but I like to think that I adjust easily. also, a little "american mindset" is good for HQ according to bill, its what makes them less "snobbish" and more welcoming to the groups they are trying to reach out to. he told me that the government actually pays you to learn german and go through an internship program at the mission. I'm excited to see if this program works out, it would definitely be a dream come true for me.

change

When I first came here, the place was very beautiful, and very terrifying. Everything was pitch black, the buildings creaked the trees stood tall, bare and ominously. walking home was hard; going down a dark path to a dark cold house with nobody to talk to and not a sound to listen to, save the whistle of wind outside. Its strange how comforting electricity can be. though I would gladly trade that comfort for what we had during the outage. with no power, no tv, no stoves or internet or heat there came companionship. there came the need for conversation, for closeness. 

Now, nearly 2 weeks after having power, some of the people I had come accustomed to seeing so much, I see much less of. In fact most of my days even when working, are spent alone. this is not usually by choice. to cure this electricity-induced disease of anti-social thinking, I have made it a point to revive an old art: simply stopping by to say hello. It may seem an insignificant and even strange concept especially in this day and age. Ive found that people are somewhat amazed that you actually took the effort to come by and simply say hello, and instantly there is a sense of companionship about the room. often Ive been invited to stay for dinner or for some future event while "simply saying hello" It never hurts, and it almost certainly will make you a friend.

bonfire

Last night I made a bonfire for some of the guests that came from africa, they can pay to have a bonfire if they want. Most people don't want to pay the extra money for something simple as a bonfire but when they show up and get the rustic feel of the place, they really want one. We have to call dispatch to have a legal bonfire, give them our permit number and the time we will end it. The dispatcher sounded younger than me, and was very rude and Im pretty sure he was swearing at me but I could only hear bits and pieces through the bad connection. So the african group scheduled for 8:30 to 11:00, I was out there from 7:30 to 10:30...nobody showed. I called the director and he said just to put it out and leave. turns out they forgot to tell them where the bonfire was at...Its always fun to know you've put your energy into collecting wood that will burn away with no purpose.

they wanted me to do another bonfire tonight since the group missed last night, honestly I just want to go home. my throat hurts, my nose is stuffed up and It hurts to talk.

On the upside, I'm going to see my aunt and uncle soon. I'm just about to book a flight to go see the the week before christmas. I have to stay here for christmas because the day after we will have our biggest booking of the season: 200 or more guests. they absolutely need me here for that. Honestly I don't mind being here for christmas though, I hear these norwegians really know how to throw a christmas party.

:)

Im sitting at a desk in my apartment, ready to go to a thanksgiving party, wearing a comfortable shirt and listening to bon iver.
I noticed dust drifting in a ray of sunlight coming though the blinds. And I realized that sometimes there should be no metaphors, there are no explanations or analytical thoughts, just the simple appreciation for a moment, when a moment becomes timeless, a moment only you can find beautiful...for no reason at all.

conversation

The more I talk to people up here the the more I understand them, and the less I think they understand me. when most people meet for the first time, they put on their "presentable face" they smile, act interested, never watch the clock, make inappropriate remarks or gestures. I am honestly interested most of the time In what people are saying and always try to smile, but I talk much less when I get to know someone. In the start of a relationship, whether it be good or bad, their are questions about their job, hobbies, family, mannerisms etc. but what comes after all the questions, for me? silence. This is the gap between being friends and good friends where you know all they've told you, and now your really getting to know the person, what is true or not, and all the things in-between. This silence is just me being observant, but to them the silence is confusing. this is understandable: I was jaw-jacking a few days ago non-stop, now Im quiet. much of the time when I happen to speak during this period, its for the benefit of the receiver rather than myself, just something to "ease their tension". I find it a little funny how most people require the ever-present sound of conversation and feel uncomfortable without It.

On a somewhat different note: Ive discovered that during this period, I am quite adept at reading other peoples true demeanors. I know enough to understand their emotions and behavior and yet I am not so clouded by trust of friendship or distrust of animosity to let feeling get in the way of pure analysis. for instance: If someone is trying very hard to act interested but isn't, or if someone is genuinely interested and seems preoccupied, I can usually tell. On the upside of watching people try to act interested, ive learned how to get through a particularly meaningless or very uninteresting conversation, by learning what not to do (say, someone starts to ramble on about football or paperwork). I use a simple trick that I call "weaving".

we've all been to the point where we just become uninterested in what someone is talking about and begin to say, "yeah" and "uh-huh" without actually listening. People notice that, and a lot of times we intentionally do that to try and end a conversation. But I just feel unwanted and unintiresting when I'm talking and someone's eyes just glaze over, so I know others feel the same way when it happens to them. weaving Is a way of pacing yourself in a conversation so that you don't strain yourself at trying to look interested, and you don't completely ignore them as well. The "yeah's" are ok, the "uh-huh's" not so much. Its better to use things like, "oh really?", "thats interesting" and "yeah I definitely agree" It just adds more of a fullness to your simple response. now onto the actual weaving, theres nothing to it. you use the simple responses mostly, but then have something called an "interest point" this is where you listen for a few seconds, catch the gist, and make a respose. for example: if your not paying attention and hear "...their defense this year has been slacking so we will see how they do" take what you've gained from that last sentence (preferably a word or idea) and say something like "oh who are they playing this year?" or "yeah you really can't win without a good defense" DO NOT say something like, "yeah I heard that too" (even if you had)  because then they think you know more than you might actually know and you'll regret it later in the conversation.

A passing thought

Every once in awhile, you see something you just need to write about. today I woke up, went outside and saw frost on the grass, clinging to life in the morning shade of a pine tree, but not anywhere else. It may make you think of that expression "all things pass away" but for me it revealed itself in the form of a lesson. cold is simply the absence of heat, just like sin is simply the absence of God. the only reason that frost of guilt, loneliness or uncertainty is clinging to your soul is because your hiding in the shade of sin; hindering you from the brightness, warmness, righteousness, friendship and blessed assurance that could only ever be from God.

part 2

Its november 15, its been about 2 weeks but it feels like ive been here forever. The people are so welcoming, the atmosphere is warm, and the landscape isn't so much breathtaking as it is breath giving. I feel inspired, I feel as though writing about this place is almost forbidden, nothing I say can do justice to the reality of it. however with heroes there is always a villain, and to beauty there is always a beast, so as beautiful as it is up here on the mountain, there is an ever unrelenting force of evil trying to destroy it. Its the little things that drive people mad up here: the bad habits, the unpredictable weather, the old buildings that always needs fixing etc. everyone up here has a good side and a bad habit, it goes without saying that almost everyone does, but it sounds almost fictitious when watching these people, straight out of some book. ryan, the big hothead, hes gentle as much as he can be but has this terrible temper that will get him into trouble someday. dan, he's nice and loves jokes, but hates to work. he goes to town everyday, sometimes for supplies but mostly for "supplies" you know, the kind that don't really exist. ralph, head of the retreat center, he's very gentle, easy to talk to, except its hard to find him to talk to him. He's probably the most anti-social leader ive seen, sometimes I think he loves books more than people. anyways, thats just a few examples. I'm sure ive got some annoying trait I'm not aware of that people look at and say "I'm better than that" just like I unfortunately tend to do to others. we all have strengths, and I see that in everyone here, but weve all got weaknesses, and if you don't remind yourself of, and continue to help strengthen those strengths, you will wind up the grumpy old man who puts up a fence and hates his neighbors for stupid little reasons.

dan drove me to church on sunday. a lot of the buildings around here look very old fashioned, brick houses with columns, little cafe's and bistro's; It takes me back to a time I never got to see. the service was alright, the preacher's message was solid, "we need to help those in need, tear down our fences and become a community" or something along those lines. after service dan sortof passed me off to some people "my age" because everyone on the mountain is very concerned about me not having any social life up here. meanwhile I have more than enough friends here already (mainly the people who are concerned). Its difficult for me to see age like them, people are people: friends are friends.

I met this guy named tony: musician, good looking, you know, every girls dream type of guy. He doesn't have a huge ego like I was expecting and in time I think he would make a good friend, then there were 2 or 3 other people I met, one guy was tall, well dressed, obviously came from a well-off family but we had quite a bit in common. then there was a girl named Heidi. I have no idea where I could've seen her before but she looks very familiar, she said the same to me while I thought it, which was strange. I don't know much about her, but I look forward to finding out more.

on a different subject: the work here is hard, I won't lie. working 8 hours a day 5 days a week cutting trees and hauling logs with very little sleep and no pay can get to you if your not careful. I just remind myself everyday that I am doing God's work and that is enough for me. Its pretty funny that ryan complains about the job more than I do, and he gets a nice house and salary. It just goes to show that its your demeanor and purpose that matters, not what you have or what your getting. some volunteers came for about 3 days and cut and hauled as much as they could before leaving, they took to calling me "paul bunyan"because I split open the piece of a 95 year old ash tree (30 inches in diameter) with an axe. I don't mean to boast, but I was honestly impressed with myself that day.

on a side note, when people say "chilled to the bone" you think that its just cold outside. but no, chilled to the bone is the only way to describe when you can barely move your fingers because it feels like your bones are literally freezing.

Four months of winter: part one

                                

Its been a few days since I arrived in schooleys mountain, NJ, and despite the lack of very much civilization and electricity, the experience has been very welcoming.

Upon arriving in the Newark airport, after a long flight and much trouble with communication, I met a man named martin. Martin was an elderly gentleman who wasn’t the most welcoming, but what he lacked in warmness, he made up for in passion. He had a passion for science, almost everything he talked about he somehow related to science. Even after expressing some disinterest in the subject, and particular interest in writing fiction, he went on and on about how you could be a scientist and write patents and formulas and whatnot. As this mostly one-sided conversation progressed I stared out the window, noticing the effects that hurricane sandy had had on new Jersey. On or near every road there was a downed tree and multiple power lines pulled down from their places. There were only a few houses that trees had fallen through, but the biggest problem was made clear when I arrived at martins house.  No power…now in Hawaii that’s not a big deal, but here you have to consider that it’s the middle of November and winter is on its way. A lot of houses depend on electricity for heat and ever-precious water. The dim situation was almost immediately forgotten by the effervescent reception of martin’s wife. She ushered me into the beautifully decorated house (all old German trinkets and statues) and was brought into a room lit by a single candle. She immediately went to the kitchen and began making me coffee. She never stopped talking, an endless storehouse of stories, all fairly mediocre but delivered with such gusto that one had no choice but to listen.  

Because of communication problems I would not be able to make it to schooley’s mountain that night, so another family agreed to put me up for the night. Rosie and yohannase were the next people I met. Rosie was sweet and reminded me of a stereotypical italian-american grandmother, always secretly searching for sympathy, but gives the “never mind” hand gesture if ever she receives some. Yohannase was a hard working gent, most of the time down in his basement sharpening chainsaws, beyond that I learned little about him. After rosie cleared a room and made a bed for me (and complained about her back the entire time) I thanked her for going to so much trouble and turned in for the night. I heard a strange thump outside during the night, which startled me, but I thought nothing of it. In the morning I learned from Rosie that a raccoon had been going through the trash outside my window, which explained the thump. She then asked if I liked blueberry pancakes and I promptly answered, “yes!” so she got out blueberries and began the process, but I made the mistake of asking a question. She ended up sitting at the table talking for about 30 minutes about her grandson or something rather, honestly I didn’t expect such a thorough answer so I stopped paying attention half way through, simply nodded and said “interesting” at random intervals.  The pancakes were good, but I wasn’t too hungry because the long flights had messed with my stomach. Despite being full, Rosie told me to keep eating, and by the time I was done, I was uncomfortably full.

Once we left the house for Schooleys, I saw many gas stations along the way with cars lined up for miles, policemen were at every gas station, trying to discourage any riot-like outbreaks that were reported earlier. Gas was at a premium; It still is ten days later.

 Upon arriving at Schooleys I immediately recognized the big pond out front, bordered with cattails and other tall grain-like plants. I remember fishing all day and night in that pond when I was 12 with no bait, just for the heck of it. We drove around back of the big mission house, which is sortof the centerpiece of the mountain. I met dan when I stepped out of the car. He gave me a “nice to meet you” and sortof an unsure look before showing me to my apartment. I found that no other guy here has long hair, which was probably the reason for his unsurity. The compound in our vicinity is made up of 5 buildings, the main mission house, my apartment, a long storage house and 2 other houses with multiple apartments; my place has three bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen. We have water so the bathroom is usable but nothing can be made in the kitchen as of now, and of course there’s no heat. Fortunately the main house has a generator that is hooked up so hot food and hot water is possible there as well as heat. I don’t remember which order I met everyone else in, but here’s the rundown:

Ryan, the epitome of a lumberjack if ever there was one, big, strong, bearded and his loud laugh fills the hillside often, he was the only gopher of the bunch until I arrived. We work together daily.

Heidi: ryan’s wife has a thick southern accent like ryan, which gives her the appearance of being tough as nails but is quite an emotional creature behind the iron mask, she is pregnant and has one daughter, almost 2 (her name is kali ann).

Nancy: dan’s wife, loving and homely, always seems to be a part of the group when shes not working. Tommy: anti-social, prefers to be alone and appreciates the outdoors more than anyone. Everyone calls him “tomahawk tom” or “tommy hatchet” because he removed the limbs of 3 pine trees with just a hatchet, even with a readily available chainsaw nearby, He’s still at work on more trees.

then there’s ralph, the director of the retreat ministry here, and the boss until bill comes back. He likes to sit in his office a lot and read books, sometimes all day. When he does join the group he is interesting to talk to, and is more knowledgeable then he looks, ryan tells me he is a chemical engineer and is actually quite wealthy.

Marie ann: ralphs wife is not a U.S. citizen and actually lives in Norway, shes almost always smiling and knitting away on the couch, she appears to be taller than almost everyone but in no way does she “look down” on anyone. 

Norman: elderly gent who loves to give you a warm smile when he walks in the room, almost always wearing a fedora or fishing hat. he likes to fish, on second thought, he LOVES to fish, its his passion. Every word of advice he gives is wise and every story he tells warms the soul.