Sunday, November 28, 2004


The crippled computer kept me from having internet access at home during this beloved holiday break, a break that has far too quickly ended. And so it is Sunday.

Those folks who disregard the "Please! No cell phones in the Lab!" signs have brought something to my attention. Seems there are lots of group projects going on, and when the MIA group members ring up the cell phones of those in the lab, whereabouts are described as "In the Hart lab." It sounds like they are saying "In the heartland." Like the George Strait song? Something about this reminds me of Big Westums' *cringe* N-E-S-T-S-E-X.

So there is this absolutely not college-aged Spanish-speaking girl who comes into this lab every now and then. She always asks to use the phone, and I let her--just so I can hear her speak Spanish to her mother. I can usually understand most of what she says. Ahem, but not enough to consider it eavesdropping, right? But being able to understand her makes me feel so much better after watching Univision, the Spanish channel, last night and only catching about one word per minute.

I've done it again. I sang and played guitar at church this morning. This time, though, I didn't know that I was going to do it until about 45 minutes beforehand. I was getting ready for church this morning, and I knew I had to do it. It swept over me like I wave, and I was nearly ill with conviction. The song was "I've Always Loved You" by Third Day, and shortly after I knew I had to sing that song, I knew what message I needed to put with it. Now, know that I have gotten very bad about remembering what books, chapters, and verses go with what scriptures, but this morning, I remembered Romans 5.6-8:

He presented himself for this sacrificial death when we were far too weak and rebellious to do anything to get ourselves ready. And even if we hadn't been so weak, we wouldn't have known what to do anyway. We can understand someone dying for a person worth dying for, and we can understand how someone good and noble could inspire us to selfless sacrifice. But God put his love on the line for us by offering his Son in sacrificial death while we were of no use whatever to him.
How well the whole thing went is very much an example of the miracles, signs, and wonders of which the song speaks. It scares me sometimes when I realize that I have been given certain gifts that I, in no way, should rightfully possess. I cannot sing. We all know that. I do not practice guitar nearly enough for this song to come off as smoothly as it did. To be the recipient of such gifts humbles me so much. Every time I skillfully place a word, every time I take a photograph that captures more than meets the eye, every time I sing the right note, and every time I pluck the right string at the right time, I am as amazed as everyone else. It almost feels like luck, you know? Like everything that I do successfully is a fluke. But it's all because I know anything good is not of myself, and all these things are a microcosm of salvation.

Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. It's God's gift from start to finish! We don't play the major role. If we did, we'd probably go around bragging that we'd done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does both the making and saving. He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join him in the work he does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing.

Ephesians 2.7-10
Now. God gives us gifts, and sometimes he uses someone else, someone walking alongside us on this earth, to put these gifts in our hands. And because of this, I owe deep gratitude to Dale for making me play guitar. Okay, maybe I picked it up by my own volition, but I was not without encouragement. He was the one who had faith that my clumsy hands could make the chords. I wouldn't call myself a musician by any means, but at least today, my hands and my guitar were usable together for the glory of God. So Dale, I don't care if all you wanted was someone else who would play guitar with you. Thank you.

Monday, November 22, 2004

bed head

I didn't fall asleep until after 1:00 am. After much tossing and turning, I finally dozed off only to awake in the dark and early morning. I stumbled bleary-eyed to bathroom, mechanically turning the alarm on my cell phone off. Apparently, I had woken up between snoozes. Before I scrambled into the shower, I remembered I hadn't turned my regular bed-side alarm off either, so I went back and switched it off.

Yes, I'm fairly certain I slept through part of my shower. I couldn't get over how incredibly tired I was, but indeed, I hadn't gotten to bed nearly as early as I should have. When I finally got out and was blinking in the crude bathroom light that the shower curtain had newly uncovered, I got that sinking feeling that you get when you're too tired to be driving, but you're driving anyway. You know, I'm talking about those times when you've made it all the way home from wherever you're coming from, and you're not quite sure if you dimmed your headlights when you met on-coming cars or if you even noticed whether the traffic lights were green, yellow, or red as you breezed through them.

I squinted my eyes and asked myself, "Had I really heard the alarm go off?" I couldn't convince myself that I had, and then I realized I had no idea what time it was. I had no idea if I was running early, late, on time, or what, but since I wasn't sure at all what time it was, I just knew that I was late. I chided myself for staying up too late as I hurriedly picked up my cell phone to check the time that I was certain would tell me I had awoken much later than I hoped. Ah, but I was wrong. My tender eyes struggled to focus on the time in the top right-hand corner of my phone display, but once I saw it clearly, I didn't know whether to be relieved or a little scared. It was 2:39 am.

I had only slept for about an hour and a half before I woke up and assumed that it was time to start the day. No wonder I was so tired. The fact that it was pitch black outside upon my waking didn't deter me. Oh, no. Daily savings time will mess with your head like that. And I really don't know why I got up or why I thought it was morning. Between turning all those alarms off, you'd think I would've noticed the time. Maybe I should pay more attention to details.

I towel-dried my hair the best I could and added mousse, threw a much drier towel over my pillows, and reset the alarm. Considering all that middle-of-the-night activity when I didn't fall asleep until 1:00 am, I'm pretty tired. And my hair looks a little interesting after the four-hour bed-head air-dry.

Sunday, November 21, 2004

going home soon

I am so very excited about Thanksgiving break. Today, I was talking to Mom on the phone. She was next door at my uncle's house. She, Dad, Sissy, Kathryn, and Day were there visiting. There was lots of laughing, and I wish I had've been there. I'm not sure why I wasn't. I didn't really have all that much to do this weekend, and I didn't even stay at work for an hour. Another lab supervisor came in and offered to work. He seemed to really need the hours, so I let him. Anyway, I could've gone home, but my reasoning was that it's too close to Thanksgiving break. I'm going home on Tuesday, and I thought that'd be too small of a gap. Small, indeed, it would be, but what's the use in all that logic when the simple truth is that I'd been much happier there than here. Oh, well. I'll be home before I know it.

"My own plans are made. While I can, I sail east in the Dawn
Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When
she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no
longer, if I have not reached Aslan's country or shot over the edge of the world
in some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise and Peepiceek
will be head of the talking mice in Narnia."

Reepicheep, from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Thursday, November 18, 2004


Have you ever been certain that you've just had a revelation, but you weren't exactly sure what it was? Or maybe you really did understand your enlightenment, but it was so overwhelming that you just somewhat block it out? That's how I feel currently.

Okay, I'm not sure why I decided to blog. Possibly so that I could give you further evidence of my insanity. See above paragraph. Anyway, what I need to be doing is finishing getting ready for my interview this morning. Yes, indeedy. It is the fateful morning of the Admission to Teacher Education interview. I scheduled it a week or so ago for nine o'clock today when I still thought I was having Shakespeare at 9:30. But no, 'tis cancelled. So here I will be going to an interview that I will likely get out of at 9:15, and then what? I might come home and change out of the dreadful interview clothes before I go to earth science.

Here's a revelation for you, one I can actually verbalize: I do not put effort into anything. That is so sad. I miraculously get okay grades, but I am not learning nearly as much as my grades reflect. I do believe I written about this before. But I guess I remember this on a cycle or something. Maybe this time, I'll try to prove myself wrong. Eh, there's always next semester.

Have a good day.

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

coming-of-age coffee

Hello, all you dear friends to whom I have not written in something like forever. Like forever, but not quite.

I'm beginning to form a pattern with my blogging. Post on Friday. Don't post again until Tuesday. Disheartening it is.

Where have I been? Well, for the most part, I've been flying through life by the seat of my pants, I tell you. I've gone from being the procrastinator who waits until the day before to do things and have become the lunatic who doesn't even begin major projects until the day they are due. That has been the story of my past two days. In less than forty-eight hours, I've written a paper on King Lear, a play which I did not quite do anything like read, graded three student essays, written up an observation, and diligently searched for five articles that I would, in the same sitting, read and write analyses of. This might not seem like too much, but consider that each of those assignments were completed only moments before they were turned in. But believe me. I do not make myself out to be a martyr of academia. I'm an idiot.

I am the proud owner of my first real coffee pot. Well, I did have a chintzy little four-cupper that I kept around for Mom's sake, but she always said it was a piece of junk. I didn't really care because, hey, I didn't drink coffee. Until this weekend. I don't know what happened to me, but over one weekend, I've become a coffee drinker. It's like a coming-of-age, really. When I told Mom, she sounded proud. I was a little confused because I don't see caffeine addiction and coffee breath as things to be proud of, but I guess I've finally joined the ranks of adulthood in my family. I don't know. But I will have freshly brewed coffee at 7:00 tomorrow morning. And strangely enough, that is exciting.

Friday, November 12, 2004


I should most definitely be in bed. But no.

I just got back from coffeehouse. That was fun, as usual. The art concept went over very well. Art submissions could be bid on in a silent auction with the proceeds going to summer missions. Considering I'd invested a massive 70 cents in each picture and since they are quite replicable, I decided to donate my photos to the cause. I don't know the total yet, but I hear that many of them went for double digit dollar amounts. I was impressed, especially since the bidding began at $2-$4. Hooray for summer missions.

Um, well. What else is there to say? Not too terribly much. I guess I just wanted to say how the coffeehouse went. Good art. Good music. Good poetry. Good coffee.

So I guess that means I'm done. G'night.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

i love rubber cement

In earth science, during those few minutes we were there, Justin turns around, looks at me, and says, "So yeah, speaking of not updating. You haven't updated since Friday. Not that I'm stalking you or anything." So here I am.

Today has been and will be semi-productive. I woke up quite early--and alert, too. Probably because, for the second night in a row, I went to bed before 11:00 last night. I went to Shakespeare, where I turned in my journal with all the required entries. In earth science, we filled out evaluations for ol' Naugle. Isn't it too early to be filling those things out? Apparently not.

After chicken, I went to the bookstore to pick up some 5x7 black matting board for my pictures I'm submitting for the coffeehouse. Little did I know that those clever folks in the bookstore already had those cut up. Apparently mounting 4x6 photos on black board is a common thing. Who would've guessed? I should have.

Anyway, I then went to the campus' hellish pit of doom: Alexander Hall. Hamurabi told me I could pick up my Admission to Teacher Education forms there. I knew I had received those papers back in the day. The day being first semester of college. So I figured I should get new copies because there was no telling what I had written on them, if they were presentable, or if I still even possessed them. Well, the lady working the Teacher Education Services desk gave me a swift boot in the pants because receiving these forms requires "a very strict process." Excuse me. I'm sorry, Ms. The Same Lady Who Threw Jennie and Me Out of the Orientation Meeting, I didn't know you couldn't pass those things out. Ah, whatever. Bitterness. Let's just say the past two times I've left that building, I've been grumbling curses. Luckily, I came home and found my forms in fine condition. Thank goodness, because I didn't want to go back.

After all that, I had a seat in my kitchen floor and pasted my photos to the black board. Oh, the fun. I've never really used rubber cement, but I now understand the joys of it. Rubber cement will eternally remind me of journalism in high school, when Holly, forever playing with a jar of the stuff, and I would sit in the back corner of the room, pretending to be doing work, and talk for the entire time.

To continue this trend of productiveness, I think I'm actually going to read the chapter for my teaching English class tonight. And at 3:30, there is a organizational meeting for Notations. As much as I shouldn't be taking on more things to do here at the end of the semester, it looks like I'm going to do it anyway. But I think it will be fun and a good experience. And then the week will carry on with its multitude of stressfulness. I schedule tomorrow. Eighteen hours. God help me.

Friday, November 05, 2004

the unnecessary

I'm at work. It's a little funny that I have the gall to call it work when it obviously is not. So as I was saying, I'm in the lab--if that comes across better or eases my conscience more. I should really be studying for the Spanish test that I have later on today. That might be helpful considering I haven't studied at all yet. Or maybe I could rework my schedule so that I don't meet my ultimate demise in the Spring; I did bring my MAP report. I also brought with me my stationery in case I take the notion to write some letters to those I too much neglect.

All of this I should do, but I find myself looking at Amazon reviews of My People's Waltz, which I've been reading off and on when I absolutely should be reading Shakespeare or Herbert or some other canonized British writer. But Phillips, a North Carolinian who currently teaches creative writing here at Murray State, has a way of writing that fills me with eagerness. I can't figure out which it makes me want to do most: read more or write. He writes how I want to write and how I like to read.

They're going to do an artwork coffee house at the BSU. I think I'm going to have some of my photos developed and submit them. I need to figure out which ones I want to use. Yet another thing I waste my time worrying with...

Thursday, November 04, 2004

without and within

I guess it was when I walked out of my door this morning that I knew it was going to be a good day. But it wasn't like I said to myself, "Hey. This is going to be a good day." It was just a feeling. The thought was more like this: "I suddenly feel so inexplicably good about life, and it's such a gloomy day. Weird." I like that feeling. Good on the inside despite the outside. Or something like that. But it was like that bleak atmosphere was good, too. Like there is a hope in it.

I got to Faculty Hall a little too early. I never go in to meet with Dr. Morgan until two minutes before the scheduled time, and I was there about fifteen minutes early. Some wise person put a couch--a quite comfortable couch, too-- in the hallway on the seventh floor, so I sat there with my schedule and my telephone (so I could see the time) in my lap, waiting for 12:58 to come. While I was agonizing over the prospect of taking eighteen hours next semester, I hear a "Hello, Cassidy. How are you?" I look up to the one and only Hovie. I tell him that I am fine and that it's good to see him, and as he's getting ready to board the elevator, he remembers that he never congratulated me on having my story in Notations. "What? Thank you. Really? I never heard," I say. So he went back to his office and gathered me up five copies of the journal. We talked for a bit, and he encouraged me to attend the organizational meeting for Notations that is coming up since I'm a "published veteran," he said. I'm glad the power went out yesterday. And I'm glad I was early for my appointment.

The advising appointment went well. I scheduled my interview to be admitted into the College of Education. That's a little scary. But only a little. We talked about English electives, and yes, I can take a creative writing class for one of them. I really want to take creative non-fiction next semester, but it overlaps with my teaching reading course that I must have. I also got my hands on a MAP report. It's more updated than my last one but only barely. It was printed last semester. I would just like to note my 2.66 GPA under the social sciences category. I guess my superfluous Ed credit will boost that a little.

Next semester is scaring the pants off of me. This is what it's looking like right now: On Monday,Wednesday, and Friday, introduction to philosophy at 9:30, advanced composition at 10:30, women's literature at 11:30, and Spanish at 1:30. On Tuesday and Thursday, teaching writing at 2:00. And on Tuesday night, teaching reading at 5:00. Yes. I think I need to work on this a little more.

I heard a dancing leaf outside my door.
Anyone can dance, given enough wind,
A dance from without, but not from within.
I've heard these sounds of dead dancing before.

half of the time we're gone, but we don't know where

I know. It's been forever since I've blogged, and I almost don't have an excuse. I guess a lot of things have happened since the last time. I guess.

Ah, I do want to thank y'all for the comments last time. I do believe that was the most emotional set of comments I've ever received. Thank you.

Look at me and these short paragraphs. I guess it's because I'm in a hurry. I'm supposed to meet my advisor at 1:00, but I forgot to take my advisee material with me. My proposed schedule and so forth. So after we totally skipped earth science for some chicken, I realized I had to come back home to get my stuff.

Let me tell you a little drizzly tale. I was supposed to meet my advisor yesterday after work. "A few minutes after 12:00," we agreed. Well, a few minutes before 12:00, the power went out in some of the campus buildings, Applied Science included. So there were some angry people in the lab. And then my relief was a little late. So here I was five minutes after 12:00 still in AS. I finally went and asked to leave. When I got to Faculty Hall, the power was out there, too. No elevator. And I'm supposed to meet my advisor. On the seventh floor. Being the dedicated student that I am (what?), I climbed the stairs. I nearly died, mind you. And when I knocked on Dr. Morgan's door to no answer, I about threw myself in the floor and had an asthma attack right there. And a few moments later, the power came back on.

Alright, well. I need to get the stuff together that I came home for. But I just wanted to blog. I've missed it.