hello from the grave.

these are my financial priorities.

1) car registration
2) textbooks
3) internet

give me a little more time, guys.

the olympics are making me feel patriotic THERE I SAID IT

What a day, what a day, what a day.

My father is now Naval Medical Center Portsmouth and Navy Medicine East. How fortunate I am to be the child of this man--not because of his accomplishments in his career, but because of his incredible heart, his servant leadership.

Mama took this picture of us after his Promotion Ceremony.



I have been searching for God. Internally, this has been the central focus of my life for years, and I know I will continue indefinitely. (There is a connection between this thought and the day I've shared with my family, I promise.)

Many of my parents' (and my!) dearest friends were able to come and celebrate this time with us. Folks from all over the country, families we met at each duty station, they all came together at my parents' new home in Portsmouth, Virginia.

The interesting thing about this amalgam, from my perspective, is that the common thread among our closest friends appears to be a profound reverence for God. This fosters an intimacy within the group that is at times emotionally overwhelming. I don't mean "overwhelming" in a negative way. On the contrary, I mean that I find myself so filled with affection and appreciation that I have no idea what to do about it, except share a simple You are a blessing.

Spending this day surrounded by people I deeply care for has helped me realize why I have had such a difficult time finding God. I've been searching for Him alone, searching in ideas, listening for Him in sermons, searching in textbooks and bulletins, thinking, Maybe if I learn enough, maybe if I spend enough time thinking holy thoughts, God will materialize.

And certainly God exists everywhere, in sermons and textbooks and trees. But the problem, my problem, is that I forget that God is alive in human beings. I can't imagine that this is such a revelation to anybody older than me. Indeed, perhaps this thought reveals how far I have yet to come in my faith. But, God does materialize! He has! Each person has the opportunity to be God's arms. I have seen Him in this community of faith today.

Here is the most amazing part: I was such a faker, but now if I allow myself to become the sort of woman I've always dreamed of becoming, I can be God to somebody!

Guys, this is the life I have always dreamed of living. I just didn't think it was possible.

I have questions.

What makes a relationship work or not work? Is there some kind of secret? How much of this does God do? What percentage is timing? Is communication really the answer? How many bizarre neuroses can one person "communicate" before the other person sails on for more rational waters? All I'm trying to do for now is enjoy individual moments, because it's almost as if nothing takes place except in the moment. Even the most mindblowingly special date could end up torn to shreds by a hypercritical, ridiculous post-date analyst. What's the purpose of a happy moment that the mind won't legitimize later? What is it about girls that we're able to convince ourselves that, when the sun sets, it ceases to exist? C'mon, it's just on the other side of the world.

Also, being home is awesome. I love my family.



I love them.

Tomorrow is the Promotion, then Tuesday is the Change of Command. So many old friends are coming to celebrate my father's success! Nothing excites my heart and calms my spirit more than old friends.

(older post i wrote out before i had the internet)

I unearthed something today!

This guilty feeling had taken hold of me for weeks because I had left my increasingly-Ruth-like typewriter to waste away at the end of my bed. (To be fair, it never uncovered my feet or anything.)

I took the old girl out of her plastic tub and set her up on my desk to vomit out my angst after another evening of waiting tables. Perhaps I was going to write something like, "Older people tip better when you put on a Southern accent," or "The special is a 10 oz. ribeye with mashed potatoes, green beans, and your choice of dressing on a dinner salad." (Both true statements.)

I only got through two words before the ink stopped coming. Fiddling with the ribbon, thinking it might have been stuck because of the move, I went so far as to use my screwdriver (I own one!) to coax the waxy strip along.

The ribbon wasn't stuck; it was out of ink.

I suppose this isn't a big deal on the surface, but I've used this typewriter on and off for about three years. I pulled the ribbon out of its little cassette tape covering, once in a while holding it inches from my face to discern what had been typed.

Letters to friends about my coursework, lines from T.S. Eliot, several poems I had tried to write myself (with varying degrees of success).

I pulled that ribbon out of its spiral for a good 15 minutes before I had unraveled it all. I suppose I can't know for sure, but I would liken the sensation to pulling an old thread of thought out of my ear and reading--at times upside-down and backwards--my internal monologue from years and years ago.

I stowed the mass of ribbon in a beige box on my desk and got up to wash my black, powdery fingers.

What can I say? Colorado is still a little lonely. I'm making my own fun.

Fact: I've been spending a great deal of time away from the city around wooded areas.

Fact: I've been suffering from nausea and a headache all day.

Fact: I have a massive bruise on my thigh surrounding one, small unbruised area.

Fact: The unbruised area contains two small holes.

Ellen: Hey, Karyn, you've been bitten by a spider!

Karyn: Ouch, I sure have!

Colorado is awesome.