I have nothing to talk about. But I am really bored...
No one is online, which is sad, because I have no one to talk to now. But oh well. It's not as though anyone really talks about anything online anyway.
Which I have been thinking about lately. I am reading That Hideous Strength by CS Lewis. It is interesting in the beginning. Well, actually it is fairly dull and tense. Jane and Mark are just going about their normal business, though there are some weird quirks. Like Jane having visions that are kind of about the future. And Mark starting a new job at an odd institution. But all the conversations. They are so veiled, and vague. No one talks about anything important, they are all very formal, and they never really discuss anything specific or deep.
At first I thought, who really talks like that? And then I had to spend three hours with a cousin I have not seen in 10 years. Our discussion was vague and veiled. Understandable, I suppose. We don't ever see each other, and there's a little matter of a family feud, that I think is finally being put behind us. But it just got me thinking. How often at church do I ask people what they did that week, and I don't really car? How often do I forget their names because I only want to talk with them until Sarah or Austin shows up and I have someone I feel comfortable with that I can talk to? Because there are Sundays, I come into church and there aren't any seniors. So I go and talk with a few juniors or sophomores and pretend to care, while passing the time and waiting for one of my 'crowd' to get there.
I hate this. We in the church are supposed to be brothers and sisters who care for each other like our own flesh and blood. But so often we are so wrapped up in ourselves, we just forget about everyone else. I think that this is true for everyone, and I am not trying to condem, because I know well enough that I did it just yesterday.
I just wish that we had enough love in our hearts, that we would love one another and actually care. That our conversations would be deep and meaningful, that we would be encouraging, though rebuking where it is needed--in a manner of love. I just want us to care about each other. I want us to be concerned when someone is gone for a few weeks. I want us to love each other in the way that Jesus commanded us.
I don't know. Maybe it is wishful thinking. But no! It can't be. Jesus told us to lvoe each other, and that starts with our conversations! I am determined to believe that it is not just a useless dream! I have given up on too many things in that way! I am not giving up on this! We should love each other in a way that makes a shine to the outside world. You want your friends to go to heaven and not hell? Then love your brothers and sisters!
Wlibamkanni,
sara
ps, do you hear me Nathan? I am not giving up on this!
ps, Minor. Salió muy rapido esta noche. No puedo decirte, leí su cuento, y quiero mas. Estoy convenciendo que es un cuento de Ud, o de su mente. Quiero más!
24.6.05
23.6.05
Short
This was inspired by the book I just finished. As Sure as the Dawn. You would have to read it to really understand what inspired it. Sarah will get it, I hope. It's like Rizpah and Atretes in the beginning, on the way to Germania. You know?
The cement walls are cold and rough. The only hallway through the building is empty. Everyone has escaped outside to the back. On rough wooden benches they sit, whispering, laughing, eating. There is one long table off in the grass, out from under the rusting tin, roasting beneath the bright yellow sun. With hard, metal, folding chairs pulled tight around it, fifteen or twenty teenagers lean forward, listening intently.
They are listening to the girl at the head of the table. Her long brown hair pulled loosely into a pony tail, whisps falling into her eyes. She is standing, hands planted on the table, smiling, talking eagerly. She jabbers on in a language she hardly knows, trying to explain a game. They listen quietly, never interrupting her to ask questions. If they did, she might never be able to recover the stream of words flooding out of her mouth. She might leave them suspended half way through, with no chance to regain what she was thinking.
A boy leans forward on the table, his head propped up on one hand. She ignores his piercing glance. But he is stretching out so far on the table, she can see no one behind him. She bites her lip, pausing in deep thought. One of the girls at the table tilts her head up, and catches the standing girl’s attention. The look in her eyes is clear. She wants to have the game explained.
The boy forgotten, she goes on. Pausing only over uncertain words and grammar. Instructions pour forth. She finishes a moment or two later, and wipes sweat from under her eyes. The sun is hot today, and they are expecting rain later in the afternoon. The humidity is thick enough to cut with a knife. A stiff breeze rustles through the leaves of the trees, and under the canopy of tin roof. It sweeps over the people sitting and eating after morning services, finally rushing past the teenagers at the table lifting hair and drying the shine off of their faces.
She shakes her head and asks if there are questions, leaning back and standing on her own feet. There are no questions. Her broken words have reached them and made sense. No gap in their knowledge as they stand to do as she said. She smiles full of satisfaction. Finally, something she said in this strange language has made sense. There are still a few sitting at the table, and he is one of them.
He is grinning and leaning on the table still. Smiling at her, eyes bright with something she doesn’t quite understand. His teeth shining white against the smooth darkness of his skin. Not perfect, not entirely straight, but sweet and charming all the same. His smile has covered his face as he leans out from behind those in front of him. She smiles back, unsure of herself, and wondering about the feeling in her stomach. She turns to go with the group, he rotates in his chair and sits an elbow on the burning metal of the chair back. Still propping his head up with a balled fist he watches her go. She glances back once and smiles at him, wondering why he is so intent on watching her.
Walking around, she looks for someone to talk with. Someway to escape the emphatic gaze. She turns back to go into the cool interior of the cement building. He sees her intent. He sweeps through the crowd and reaches the open door before her, blocking her way. She smiles slightly and asks in her broken words to be let past. He shakes his head with a wild grin. She frowns now and demands to know the reason why he won’t let her through. Because, he insists, he wants to speak with her. She shakes her head saying she doesn’t want to talk to him, he is behaving strangely. He asks her something, her eyes widen and colour floods her cheeks.
He has his answer. A moment later she is walking past him. But he pulls her into the empty sanctuary and asks one last thing. Do you want to know about me? She shakes her head, the loose pony tale flying loose. Her hair drapes down around her shoulders, soft and curled. He smiles. She wanted to know a few days ago, and he didn’t tell her. He was too afraid. Too nervous. Too scared of what she might think.
But he knows now. She shakes her head again, insisting that he doesn’t have to tell her, that she doesn’t need to know. That she was only curious the other day, and really it doesn’t matter very much. He grabs the back of her head and pulls her into him, she resists for a moment, shocked, confused. His lips press down on hers. The moment is passed and she melts into him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. She is so warm all over, the blood rushing through her veins.
He lets her go and smiles down. Her eyes are bright and he cheeks are just the right colour pink. “Does that answer your question?”
The cement walls are cold and rough. The only hallway through the building is empty. Everyone has escaped outside to the back. On rough wooden benches they sit, whispering, laughing, eating. There is one long table off in the grass, out from under the rusting tin, roasting beneath the bright yellow sun. With hard, metal, folding chairs pulled tight around it, fifteen or twenty teenagers lean forward, listening intently.
They are listening to the girl at the head of the table. Her long brown hair pulled loosely into a pony tail, whisps falling into her eyes. She is standing, hands planted on the table, smiling, talking eagerly. She jabbers on in a language she hardly knows, trying to explain a game. They listen quietly, never interrupting her to ask questions. If they did, she might never be able to recover the stream of words flooding out of her mouth. She might leave them suspended half way through, with no chance to regain what she was thinking.
A boy leans forward on the table, his head propped up on one hand. She ignores his piercing glance. But he is stretching out so far on the table, she can see no one behind him. She bites her lip, pausing in deep thought. One of the girls at the table tilts her head up, and catches the standing girl’s attention. The look in her eyes is clear. She wants to have the game explained.
The boy forgotten, she goes on. Pausing only over uncertain words and grammar. Instructions pour forth. She finishes a moment or two later, and wipes sweat from under her eyes. The sun is hot today, and they are expecting rain later in the afternoon. The humidity is thick enough to cut with a knife. A stiff breeze rustles through the leaves of the trees, and under the canopy of tin roof. It sweeps over the people sitting and eating after morning services, finally rushing past the teenagers at the table lifting hair and drying the shine off of their faces.
She shakes her head and asks if there are questions, leaning back and standing on her own feet. There are no questions. Her broken words have reached them and made sense. No gap in their knowledge as they stand to do as she said. She smiles full of satisfaction. Finally, something she said in this strange language has made sense. There are still a few sitting at the table, and he is one of them.
He is grinning and leaning on the table still. Smiling at her, eyes bright with something she doesn’t quite understand. His teeth shining white against the smooth darkness of his skin. Not perfect, not entirely straight, but sweet and charming all the same. His smile has covered his face as he leans out from behind those in front of him. She smiles back, unsure of herself, and wondering about the feeling in her stomach. She turns to go with the group, he rotates in his chair and sits an elbow on the burning metal of the chair back. Still propping his head up with a balled fist he watches her go. She glances back once and smiles at him, wondering why he is so intent on watching her.
Walking around, she looks for someone to talk with. Someway to escape the emphatic gaze. She turns back to go into the cool interior of the cement building. He sees her intent. He sweeps through the crowd and reaches the open door before her, blocking her way. She smiles slightly and asks in her broken words to be let past. He shakes his head with a wild grin. She frowns now and demands to know the reason why he won’t let her through. Because, he insists, he wants to speak with her. She shakes her head saying she doesn’t want to talk to him, he is behaving strangely. He asks her something, her eyes widen and colour floods her cheeks.
He has his answer. A moment later she is walking past him. But he pulls her into the empty sanctuary and asks one last thing. Do you want to know about me? She shakes her head, the loose pony tale flying loose. Her hair drapes down around her shoulders, soft and curled. He smiles. She wanted to know a few days ago, and he didn’t tell her. He was too afraid. Too nervous. Too scared of what she might think.
But he knows now. She shakes her head again, insisting that he doesn’t have to tell her, that she doesn’t need to know. That she was only curious the other day, and really it doesn’t matter very much. He grabs the back of her head and pulls her into him, she resists for a moment, shocked, confused. His lips press down on hers. The moment is passed and she melts into him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. She is so warm all over, the blood rushing through her veins.
He lets her go and smiles down. Her eyes are bright and he cheeks are just the right colour pink. “Does that answer your question?”
22.6.05
Long Overdue Update.
My brother is officially a married man. He got all choked up during his wedding vows, and I almost started crying. The reception was alright, the food was GREAT. amazing beyond belief. And almost as good as the actual wedding---Our extended family has finally left!! Doesn't that sound awful? But, unfortunately, it's true.
I think I will pass my math class at ACC this summer. Thanks to Minor and Nathan.
I have finished my third book of the summer, and am starting on the fourth-That Hideous Strength by CS Lewis. Only one of the space trilogy that I have not read.
I finally finished this post. And now my wrists are tired. Sorry it is so long.
yes this is my cousin...
Debbie: Here wear my shoes.
Me: I can't, they have heels. I don't wear heels. I'm not normal.
Debbie: Are you trying to call me normal?
Me: um...
Debbie (flapping her arms like a bird and running away) I'm not ordinary!
I will hopefully be online tonight, if anyone wants to talk. Sorry I have been gone so much lately, but that's what happens with weddings.
Xawil hab'aa
Sara
I think I will pass my math class at ACC this summer. Thanks to Minor and Nathan.
I have finished my third book of the summer, and am starting on the fourth-That Hideous Strength by CS Lewis. Only one of the space trilogy that I have not read.
I finally finished this post. And now my wrists are tired. Sorry it is so long.
yes this is my cousin...
Debbie: Here wear my shoes.
Me: I can't, they have heels. I don't wear heels. I'm not normal.
Debbie: Are you trying to call me normal?
Me: um...
Debbie (flapping her arms like a bird and running away) I'm not ordinary!
I will hopefully be online tonight, if anyone wants to talk. Sorry I have been gone so much lately, but that's what happens with weddings.
Xawil hab'aa
Sara
13.6.05
Would Someone....
please get online and talk to me? There is a spider in front of the office door, so now I can't get out. I could be here for a while...
11.6.05
A Post....
... about nothing in particualar (and not all in Spanish)
ay, dios mio. La boda de mi hermano está en menos de una semana. Que cosa! Pero, es muy dificil para mi. Porque no tengo un novio? No quiero estar solo. Es muy estupido, y cuando veo otras personas con sus novios, es dificil. Muchos veces es comó, la gente no comprenden como me siento para ser solo. Me entiendes? Como todo el mundo que tiene un novio, no recuerdo como es para estar solo, sin nadie. Sin nadie, es una exageración muy grande. Tengo mi familia y mis amigos, y mas importante, tengo Dios. Pero a veces, parece que no es sufficiente. Especialmente despues de leer esta novela, A Voice in the Wind. Hay dos personas que les gustan el otro, mucho, pero en el situacion, su amor es imposible. Es como mi vida! A veces me parace que es imposible para un muchacho le gusta a mi. Pero, esta tambien es una exageración muy grande, no? Ay, no me importa mucho. Debo estar feliz por mi hermano y mi hermana nueva. No tengo un novio, es el voluntad de Dios, no? Y por eso, está bien conmigo.
Went on the roof today. I had to climb up the ladder and then my dad made me stand up on the roof and walk around. Oh my gosh, I was scared beyond words. We thought it would conquer my fear of heights.... My dad had to come up the ladder and help me down, I was so scared out of my mind. So much for that. My mom came out and was like "the window washer is here!" and my dad goes, "Can you talk to him? I'm trying to help Sara get off the roof, we were trying to handle her fear of heights." and there was this silence, before I managed to croak out, "It's not working out so well!" Bah! I hate heights, which is odd isn't it? Because I love flying in airplanes. But I don't ever want to be on a roof again.
I spent the night at Brittany's last night. On the floor. No joke, it has got to be the hardest carpet I have ever slept on. I hardly slept at all. It makes me tired just to think of it. Oh, I need to yawn now.
The team for Matamoras left today. Please keep them in your prayers, as well as the Tunisia team, that left last Saturday and the Zambia group, who left on Wednesday. Pray that God will keep them safe, give them opportunities to share the Gospel, to love the people they are working with, and to encourage the missionaries they visit.
that's all folks.
Ítuo,
Sara
ay, dios mio. La boda de mi hermano está en menos de una semana. Que cosa! Pero, es muy dificil para mi. Porque no tengo un novio? No quiero estar solo. Es muy estupido, y cuando veo otras personas con sus novios, es dificil. Muchos veces es comó, la gente no comprenden como me siento para ser solo. Me entiendes? Como todo el mundo que tiene un novio, no recuerdo como es para estar solo, sin nadie. Sin nadie, es una exageración muy grande. Tengo mi familia y mis amigos, y mas importante, tengo Dios. Pero a veces, parece que no es sufficiente. Especialmente despues de leer esta novela, A Voice in the Wind. Hay dos personas que les gustan el otro, mucho, pero en el situacion, su amor es imposible. Es como mi vida! A veces me parace que es imposible para un muchacho le gusta a mi. Pero, esta tambien es una exageración muy grande, no? Ay, no me importa mucho. Debo estar feliz por mi hermano y mi hermana nueva. No tengo un novio, es el voluntad de Dios, no? Y por eso, está bien conmigo.
Went on the roof today. I had to climb up the ladder and then my dad made me stand up on the roof and walk around. Oh my gosh, I was scared beyond words. We thought it would conquer my fear of heights.... My dad had to come up the ladder and help me down, I was so scared out of my mind. So much for that. My mom came out and was like "the window washer is here!" and my dad goes, "Can you talk to him? I'm trying to help Sara get off the roof, we were trying to handle her fear of heights." and there was this silence, before I managed to croak out, "It's not working out so well!" Bah! I hate heights, which is odd isn't it? Because I love flying in airplanes. But I don't ever want to be on a roof again.
I spent the night at Brittany's last night. On the floor. No joke, it has got to be the hardest carpet I have ever slept on. I hardly slept at all. It makes me tired just to think of it. Oh, I need to yawn now.
The team for Matamoras left today. Please keep them in your prayers, as well as the Tunisia team, that left last Saturday and the Zambia group, who left on Wednesday. Pray that God will keep them safe, give them opportunities to share the Gospel, to love the people they are working with, and to encourage the missionaries they visit.
that's all folks.
Ítuo,
Sara
Voice in the Wind
I am reading this book called a Voice in the Wind. It's about early Christians in Rome (or the Roman empire to be more general). It takes like the lives of four people and just intertwines their stories and such. One is a slave girl named Hadassah. She is a Jewish Christian, and her father was the widow's son that Jesus raised from the dead. Which if you ask me, that would be pretty much awesome to be like, "hey, let me introduce you to my dad. Yea, he got brought back to life when he was like 14. MY DAD IS COOLER THAN YOURS!" you know, something along those lines.
So, really to get to my point. Hadassah always feels like she is a very horrible Christian and has weak faith. But one time, she is leaving for Ephesus and walking on the docks of Rome, she remembers walking with her father on the shores of Galilee one time.
Hadassah glanced at the sailors working around her and remembered her father's words. "Peter was such as these. And James and John....They were sometimes profane and often full of pride." God chose men like these...Jesus hadn't chosen men the world would have chosen. He had picked ordinary men, with obvious faults and made them into something extraordinary through the indwelling of his Holy Spirit.
Lately I have been trying to be perfect. Happy all the time, Kind and loving to everyone. My dad said I am too impatient. That when the Bible says Christ will perfect us in time, I ignore the last two words and demand perfection now. Don't get me wrong, it's not so much for people looking at me saying, wow, sara is just an amazing person, she is sooo perfect! I want to be perfect to shine for God. Since we live in a screwed up world, wouldn't it be great to be perfect? To just love everyone and be kind all the time? How much better could you shine for Christ?
But it's impossible. Which is not to doubt God's ability to perfect even the worst human being into a saint. But that also doesn't happen exactly overnight. I read that passage in the book and just thought to myself, oh my gosh! it's so perfectly true! Have you ever heard the expression, "he has language that would make a sailor blush!" Well, these men weren't sailors necessarily, but they led dirty lives. They were not perfect in any shape or form, and Christ chose them. Because Christ comes for those who are sick, not the healthy. They sure as heck were not the disciples that the Jews would have chosen for their long awaited Messiah. They'd have chosen someone like Caiphus--the high priest who helped instigate the murder of Christ.
He chose the imperfect and made them perfect. But even after three years, they still had a long ways to go. And they walked with Jesus. Peter denied Christ, and he walked with him. How can I expect to be perfectly molded into the image of Christ after four years. It took one of the greatest apostles longer than that practically.
So I have not given up on being perfect. Because through God's eyes, I am perfected in Christ. I am a saint who sometimes sins. But I am praying to eradicate things like anger and frustration, rather I am asking God to replace it with unceasing love and patience. Which is the funny thing, I am asking to have patience, and often asking for it with a demand that it comes in tomorrow.
I am not perfected entirely. So if sometime I treat you as less than I should, don't take too much offense. I do love you. But I need time. I need lots of time to let God work in me and complete what he has started.
Shalom,
Sara
So, really to get to my point. Hadassah always feels like she is a very horrible Christian and has weak faith. But one time, she is leaving for Ephesus and walking on the docks of Rome, she remembers walking with her father on the shores of Galilee one time.
Hadassah glanced at the sailors working around her and remembered her father's words. "Peter was such as these. And James and John....They were sometimes profane and often full of pride." God chose men like these...Jesus hadn't chosen men the world would have chosen. He had picked ordinary men, with obvious faults and made them into something extraordinary through the indwelling of his Holy Spirit.
Lately I have been trying to be perfect. Happy all the time, Kind and loving to everyone. My dad said I am too impatient. That when the Bible says Christ will perfect us in time, I ignore the last two words and demand perfection now. Don't get me wrong, it's not so much for people looking at me saying, wow, sara is just an amazing person, she is sooo perfect! I want to be perfect to shine for God. Since we live in a screwed up world, wouldn't it be great to be perfect? To just love everyone and be kind all the time? How much better could you shine for Christ?
But it's impossible. Which is not to doubt God's ability to perfect even the worst human being into a saint. But that also doesn't happen exactly overnight. I read that passage in the book and just thought to myself, oh my gosh! it's so perfectly true! Have you ever heard the expression, "he has language that would make a sailor blush!" Well, these men weren't sailors necessarily, but they led dirty lives. They were not perfect in any shape or form, and Christ chose them. Because Christ comes for those who are sick, not the healthy. They sure as heck were not the disciples that the Jews would have chosen for their long awaited Messiah. They'd have chosen someone like Caiphus--the high priest who helped instigate the murder of Christ.
He chose the imperfect and made them perfect. But even after three years, they still had a long ways to go. And they walked with Jesus. Peter denied Christ, and he walked with him. How can I expect to be perfectly molded into the image of Christ after four years. It took one of the greatest apostles longer than that practically.
So I have not given up on being perfect. Because through God's eyes, I am perfected in Christ. I am a saint who sometimes sins. But I am praying to eradicate things like anger and frustration, rather I am asking God to replace it with unceasing love and patience. Which is the funny thing, I am asking to have patience, and often asking for it with a demand that it comes in tomorrow.
I am not perfected entirely. So if sometime I treat you as less than I should, don't take too much offense. I do love you. But I need time. I need lots of time to let God work in me and complete what he has started.
Shalom,
Sara
7.6.05
That "Deep" Post I Promised
Heroes
People like stories about heroes. They want exciting characters full of courage, stories full of love, betrayal and adventure. Movies that make the most money in the box office--they are stories about heroic people. Sometimes the characters make mistakes, but in the end, they come out on top. They struggle through to the end, they fight oppression, hate, ignorance, discrimintaion--they fight evil. Stories might have to be told in trilogies, sometimes even longer. All may seem lost in the beginning. Perhaps the intended hero fails and turns away from the good the world thought he would accomplish. No matter, worries aside, he will be superseded by a stronger, better hero. Everything will turn out right.
These are the stories that people read. The bedtime tales they listen to. The movies they see. These are the stories they love, the ones that touch their souls in a way they do not completely comprehend. Stories that are larger than life. Places where impossible things happen. Endings where there is always a hero. Good always wins.
What is it that makes us love these stories so much? Why do people love stories about amazing and unreal people? I don't really know. I wish I could give you an answer, but I can not even find one to completely satisfy myself.
The only thing I can find that perhaps makes sense is basically spiritual. People have this gaping hole in them, one that yearns for God. I once read that every story is really a great love story. There is the beloved, or what is being fought for. There is the adversary, and the hero. Like the greatest love story of all time--ours and God's. We are the beloved, Satan is the adversary, God is the hero, manifested through Christ on the cross. I think that perhaps, we love stories about heroes because deep inside, our soul cries out that it must be true. That here is a place where impossible things happen. An ending where good always wins. A hero full of love and courage, and a story full of betrayal and adventure. The perfect story, with the perfect hero. But we are so blind, that we must find it, not in Christian spirituality, but rather in movies and books. So blind that we can not see the true living story of the ultimate hero right in front of our eyes.
This is of course, all speculation. I hardly know what the human soul thinks, or how the brain functions. But if these are things that we value, stories that we love to hear over and over--there must be something instilled deep within us that yearns for them. Or it--the one true storie about the hero.
Sarjak,
sara
People like stories about heroes. They want exciting characters full of courage, stories full of love, betrayal and adventure. Movies that make the most money in the box office--they are stories about heroic people. Sometimes the characters make mistakes, but in the end, they come out on top. They struggle through to the end, they fight oppression, hate, ignorance, discrimintaion--they fight evil. Stories might have to be told in trilogies, sometimes even longer. All may seem lost in the beginning. Perhaps the intended hero fails and turns away from the good the world thought he would accomplish. No matter, worries aside, he will be superseded by a stronger, better hero. Everything will turn out right.
These are the stories that people read. The bedtime tales they listen to. The movies they see. These are the stories they love, the ones that touch their souls in a way they do not completely comprehend. Stories that are larger than life. Places where impossible things happen. Endings where there is always a hero. Good always wins.
What is it that makes us love these stories so much? Why do people love stories about amazing and unreal people? I don't really know. I wish I could give you an answer, but I can not even find one to completely satisfy myself.
The only thing I can find that perhaps makes sense is basically spiritual. People have this gaping hole in them, one that yearns for God. I once read that every story is really a great love story. There is the beloved, or what is being fought for. There is the adversary, and the hero. Like the greatest love story of all time--ours and God's. We are the beloved, Satan is the adversary, God is the hero, manifested through Christ on the cross. I think that perhaps, we love stories about heroes because deep inside, our soul cries out that it must be true. That here is a place where impossible things happen. An ending where good always wins. A hero full of love and courage, and a story full of betrayal and adventure. The perfect story, with the perfect hero. But we are so blind, that we must find it, not in Christian spirituality, but rather in movies and books. So blind that we can not see the true living story of the ultimate hero right in front of our eyes.
This is of course, all speculation. I hardly know what the human soul thinks, or how the brain functions. But if these are things that we value, stories that we love to hear over and over--there must be something instilled deep within us that yearns for them. Or it--the one true storie about the hero.
Sarjak,
sara
Spent the Night at Kaitlin's
And we watched Episodes II, V, and VI. II because Kaitlin wanted to see Hayden... ew, he is so not hot with the little rat tail thing, and he's definitely pretty whiny.
"I hate them! I slaughtered them like animals!... He's holding me back! I hate him!" yea, so we were saying that all night.
but here is something, that I want you to check out. It's called Star Wars Gangsta Rap, and it's pretty funny. This is the old one, and this is the new one. If the link doesn't work, then look it up on google.
Kait and I are buying light sabers for ythe girl's sleepover on Wed. Yea, I'm pretty much obsessed now. Oh, and if you love me, you can buy this for me! Or this.
May the Force Be With You,
sara
"I hate them! I slaughtered them like animals!... He's holding me back! I hate him!" yea, so we were saying that all night.
but here is something, that I want you to check out. It's called Star Wars Gangsta Rap, and it's pretty funny. This is the old one, and this is the new one. If the link doesn't work, then look it up on google.
Kait and I are buying light sabers for ythe girl's sleepover on Wed. Yea, I'm pretty much obsessed now. Oh, and if you love me, you can buy this for me! Or this.
May the Force Be With You,
sara
6.6.05
GUESS WHAT?
I don't know actually. Except that my hair blow dried nicely today, so I look pretty (woohoo) and I am going shopping with Kaitlin! BAH! I am so excited to walk around and look at pretty clothes and buy a new pair of jeans that I no joke, need desperately. And if I find anything in brown, I will be buying that too! Bahahaha.
So basically, this is a perfectly shallow post, because I am so beyond tired mentally, I can think of nothing deeper to say. Tomorrow, I have a nice little essay/not really sort of thing I will be putting up. It's kinda cool I think. But then I could be wrong, considering I wrote it at like midnight, on a sugar high.
In other news...
Connor gets his braces off today, and I get mine off next week! Woo!
Austin Curry came to church last night--haven't seen him in like a month!
All the seniors hung out last night at Austin's! It was pretty awesome.
My brother gets married in less than 2 weeks!
Pride and Prejudice comes out Spet 29
We leave for Costa Rica in 5 months!
but the best....
I AM OFFICIALLY A SENIOR!
and now, i leave you with a good song... or at least part of it.
when love comes to town,
I'm gonna catch that train
when love comes to town
I'm gonna catch that plane
Maybe I was wrong to ever let you down,
but I did what I did before love came to town!
-U2 When Love Comes to Town
So basically, this is a perfectly shallow post, because I am so beyond tired mentally, I can think of nothing deeper to say. Tomorrow, I have a nice little essay/not really sort of thing I will be putting up. It's kinda cool I think. But then I could be wrong, considering I wrote it at like midnight, on a sugar high.
In other news...
Connor gets his braces off today, and I get mine off next week! Woo!
Austin Curry came to church last night--haven't seen him in like a month!
All the seniors hung out last night at Austin's! It was pretty awesome.
My brother gets married in less than 2 weeks!
Pride and Prejudice comes out Spet 29
We leave for Costa Rica in 5 months!
but the best....
I AM OFFICIALLY A SENIOR!
and now, i leave you with a good song... or at least part of it.
when love comes to town,
I'm gonna catch that train
when love comes to town
I'm gonna catch that plane
Maybe I was wrong to ever let you down,
but I did what I did before love came to town!
-U2 When Love Comes to Town
Allah yisallimak
Sara
5.6.05
There is no title possible
This post has been removed due to a request by a good friend. Or maybe it was more along the lines of a suggestion. Either way, I took it down, after something of a good long think. Maybe kinda mean to put this up on the web, for all the world to see, when I suppose you could claim it was personal. So, it's down now.
for those wondering-the request did not come from the person that this post was written to. Because I know how you all love to jump to such conclusions.
for those wondering-the request did not come from the person that this post was written to. Because I know how you all love to jump to such conclusions.
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