another young citizen of reformed blogdom

Thursday, October 31, 2002

And I really should be studying for my Geography of the South test, but...I think I'm doing that at lunch.

OH! I want to tell about our Reformation Day Party at church last night:
I was "the tree of the knowledge of good and evil"--I wore brown pants and a green shirt and made a ductape snake climbing up my leg and lots of apples and leaves. It was fun...my three best friends all dressed up like little girls, though, and I didn't quite match them. But I ate more candy than I had in a long time and I worked the bean bag toss--one of the bags sprung a leak and there was rice all over the floor.
It was enjoyable.
Then, last night, I watched "The Others" --oh my word, that is a FREAKY MOVIE! I guess I just shouldn't watch scary movies...I mean, it wasn't a horror movie, I wouldn't say, but it was really good at just making you nervous and scared. I was sitting beside my best friend and there was a boy on the floor leaning on the couch--at one point I was holding on to her arm with one hand and his hand with the other...I hope I didn't bruise them. but I mean, just...the camera angles and the music where what really made it scary, not so much the plot. Even though that was confusing, too. But wow! It didn't keep me from sleeping, though.

The RUF halloween party is tonight. somewhere among the higher-ups they decided not to sanctify it with the title of reformation day party. I think I'm going to be a speed limit sign. Exciting? I don't know. It's kinda weird. oh well. Last year, I was my brother--I dressed up in a polo shirt and his carhartts and boots. That was fun. I liked that. I hope we have really good food at the party.

I hope my family (well, my mom and my little sister) can come down for the weekend. I hope I get my long outline for my research paper done by monday. I'm kinda wondering about it...I guess i'll do the best I can...I really hope that next semester I'm better about writing papers and research and stuff like that.

and now I'm skipping his class for a while so I can be sure to get the classes I need when I register. ALl of them except one are only offered once.
YOu know, I'm so excited about that paper, i'll post it on the paper blog for all to see!
(onlyapapermoon.blogspot.com)
I mean, how great does that make my day? So if I have an 85 and a 100, what does that even out to? 92.5? whheee!!

this is what he wrote on my paper:
"THis is an excellent paper and fascinating to boot. I really learned a lot from reading it. You demonstrate command of the text (the ethonographic one) and a wonderful capacity to reflect on your own upbringing and culture as a variant of the American Christian system. It's beautifully written as well. Keep up the good work. Become an anthroplogist. 100."

Isn't that exciting???

hey, guess what!!!
My professor really really liked the Eskimo v. Reformed childrearing paper and I got an hundred!!! I'm sooo excited, I could dance!

Wednesday, October 30, 2002

darnit, I get distracted so easily! Why do I find it so easy to read other people's blogs and get so distracted and not get anything done??
too much of a good thing?

on a shady note--
I was walking to the computer lab from the bathroom and some random guy on a couch said, "I see you all the time!" and he proceeded to introduce himself and tell me that he'd seen me in the news paper and all the time going to class in front of McComas.
Is it just me, or is that sketchy? moreover, his name, he said, is "Crash." I mean, I see people all the time, but RARELY do I introduce myself to them. and certainly not in so sketchy a way. THe only time I've ever done it, really, is to a boy who was in the bakery the same time as I was almost every day last semester. I mean, we were practically neighbors. (we didn't live near each other, just the whole bakery time thing). We knew we saw each other lots. But this guy?? I'd never seen him before in my life.
I'm really weirded out by that. Taken aback, even.
Maybe it's because my outfit "matches" today. My roomate told me "you look cute today. you rarely match, but today you do." I looked at her a little askance, I admit. My wardrobe mostly consists of blue jeans or khakis--neutral pants and t-shirts of all colors and occasions. How can those not match? Okay, I do wear, occasionally, the random Starkville High band pants--black with a yellow stripe down the side, and I'm a really big fan of wearing short sleeved shirts over longsleeved ones--but it hasn't been cold enough here to warrant that.
Today, I am wearing my Dickey's painter pants for the first time in a while. [They are a little bit tighter than they were last semester.] I'm wearing my cousin's blue young life long sleeved shirt and my blue Clark tennis shoes.
But it's not that much different than the clothes I normally wear.
I mean, it's college! who matches?
Besides, obviously, my roomate. (should that be "room mate" or "roommate" or what?)
It's a really nice day. I think I'm going to do just a little bit of looking for stuff for my research topic (the influence of the delta on its blues artists) and then go play outside. Probably ending up walking home.
Maybe I'll go to the chapel and play the piano.
I'm hungry, too, and I just ate.

Okay, I think it's now time to divulge the best wedding plan ever.Well, most people think it's crazy, but the more weddings I go to, the more attracted to it I am..
okay. First off, wedding day is Sunday.
so, BIG HUMONGOUS PARTY Saturday night. with all sorts of fruits of the vine flowing (but hopefully no one getting drunk) and a bluegrass band and dancing and tons of food (layered dip, for sure) and all my friends there (and all his, too, but I don't know him)...
then in the morning, we'd all go to church (the party would probably begin at like 5 and go til midnight), and after the sermon, me and my husband (my husband and I, i know) would just stand up and get married. no fuss. and then, hopefully, there'd be a fellowship meal and wedding cake. and then we'd go home and..........
What's the verdict? a good plan? Much as I have enjoyed my brothers' weddings this year, for me there was just too much fuss all around. I don't think there was anything wrong with it, but I'm going to try to avoid it.
EveN THOugh, right now, I should be far more concerned about whether I'll make it to class today and finish this semester well, than about some wedding to some guy whose identity I don't even know.
yeah.

hey, look, I forgot to say where that blog was: onlyapapermoon.blogspot.com -- i'm kinda a big fan of lunar things, eh?
My mom came into town last night--it was really good to see her. I think I've reached that point in my life where I like my parents. Whee!
Okay, so I've always been fond of mom and proud of her...but now I have conversations with her. It's fun! Who knew? (Our intern [the boy one] says that a whole lot.)

my Christmas list:
dark corduroy pants--thin wale, never pleated, preferably blue jean cut
--in the 6 years since 8th grade, I've worn out three pairs of corduroys
music of all types--especially the blues, the first Son Volt CD (mine mysteriously disappeared), the first Claire Holley CD, any Uncle Tupelo CDs, every Wilco one but AM, the Bible and/or Shakespeare on CD, Nickel Creek, anybody with good lyrics and acoustic guitar...
um,books--good theology books or good reading books...preferably ones with humor in them. I'm finding that i tend not to enjoy books with too much realism--Cold Sassy Tree was not for me. yeah, and I tend to get bothered by books with dialect.
hmm...that's about all I can think of. oh wait! any fun, cute shirts and skirts that go together--like those shirts that are really just nice t-shirts that you can wear with all sorts of different things--those would be nice, too, but ask Christy or Juli before you pick those out.
maps, especially of England or the South or Mississippi or some state that I have connections with.
t-shirts/sweatshirts from Rutgers or Michigan State or other ancestral colleges
I would say "a husband to keep me warm at night" because Jereme asked for a wife and he got one within the next year, but I think I should just concentrate on getting the heck out of college first. I mean, two years isn't that much longer.
um, I think that's about it. I'll have to add more if I think of it.

Tuesday, October 29, 2002

Hey, look what I've done!
--
I've made a blog for all my papers so it doesn't get annoying over here...
whee!
and now it's about time for lunch, but first I would like to find a poem by Tennyson that describes me exactly

"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
In the afternoon they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.
All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke,
Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
Stood sunset-flush'd: and, dew'd with showery drops,
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.

The charmed sunset linger'd low adown
In the red West: thro' mountain clefts the dale
Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
Border'd with palm, and many a winding vale
And meadow, set with slender galingale;
A land where all things always seem'd the same!
And round about the keel with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.

Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each, but whoso did receive of them,
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far far away did seem to mourn and rave
On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake,
And music in his ears his beating heart did make.

They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland,
Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore
Most weary seem'd the sea, weary the oar,
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
Then some one said, "We will return no more";
And all at once they sang, "Our island home
Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."


CHORIC SONG


There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes;
Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
Here are cool mosses deep,
And thro' the moss the ivies creep,
And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep."

II
Why are we weigh'd upon with heaviness,
And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
While all things else have rest from weariness?
All things have rest: why should we toil alone,
We only toil, who are the first of things,
And make perpetual moan,
Still from one sorrow to another thrown:
Nor ever fold our wings,
And cease from wanderings,
Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;
Nor harken what the inner spirit sings,
"There is no joy but calm!"
Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?


III
Lo! in the middle of the wood,
The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud
With winds upon the branch, and there
Grows green and broad, and takes no care,
Sun-steep'd at noon, and in the moon
Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow
Falls, and floats adown the air.
Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light,
The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
Drops in a silent autumn night.
All its allotted length of days
The flower ripens in its place,
Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.


IV
Hateful is the dark-blue sky,
Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea.
Death is the end of life; ah, why
Should life all labour be?
Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,
And in a little while our lips are dumb.
Let us alone. What is it that will last?
All things are taken from us, and become
Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
Let us alone. What pleasure can we have
To war with evil? Is there any peace
In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave
In silence; ripen, fall and cease:
Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.


V
How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,
With half-shut eyes ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half-dream!
To dream and dream, like yonder amber light,
Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
To hear each other's whisper'd speech;
Eating the Lotos day by day,
To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,
And tender curving lines of creamy spray;
To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
To muse and brood and live again in memory,
With those old faces of our infancy
Heap'd over with a mound of grass,
Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!


VI
Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,
And dear the last embraces of our wives
And their warm tears: but all hath suffer'd change:
For surely now our household hearths are cold,
Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange:
And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.
Or else the island princes over-bold
Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings
Before them of the ten years' war in Troy,
And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things.
Is there confusion in the little isle?
Let what is broken so remain.
The Gods are hard to reconcile:
'Tis hard to settle order once again.
There is confusion worse than death,
Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,
Long labour unto aged breath,
Sore task to hearts worn out by many wars
And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.


VII
But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly,
How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)
With half-dropt eyelid still,
Beneath a heaven dark and holy,
To watch the long bright river drawing slowly
His waters from the purple hill--
To hear the dewy echoes calling
From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine--
To watch the emerald-colour'd water falling
Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!
Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,
Only to hear were sweet, stretch'd out beneath the pine.




VIII
The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:
The Lotos blows by every winding creek:
All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:
Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone
Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.
We have had enough of action, and of motion we,
Roll'd to starboard, roll'd to larboard, when the surge was seething free,
Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea.
Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,
In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined
On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind.
For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl'd
Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curl'd
Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:
Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,
Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands,
Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying
hands.
But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song
Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,
Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong;
Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil,
Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil,
Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil;
Till they perish and they suffer--some, 'tis whisper'd--down in hell
Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,
Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.
Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore
Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;
O, rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.


yeah, it's long, but it gets the way I feel. And I'll probably fall asleep in English when we talk about it, too.
C'est la vie!

HEy, I got four hours of sleep last night! But I got to watch Casablanca and hang out with my friends...but i haven't finished my english paper. oh well. at least french got out early. hey, and I'm even about to work on my paper.
I think tomorrow I will put my christmas list up here, as the brother who has my name reads it.

I'm glad that my siblings are taking care of all the questions getting asked.

Decision of the weekend:
My husband has to be able to sing without quavering or going offkey.
I mean, flat out. You can't sing, you're off the list.
Well, unless you're really wonderful in every other way, but so far being able to sing generally means that you are wonderful in more ways than that.
At fall conference this past weekend, I sat beside a boy who just couldn't sing (a Willers, fam, of homeschooling days) and it was just terrible--I had to lean back and listen to the boy who could sing who was sitting directly behind him.
so.
another qualification...this too, is hard and fast--you gotta want to have tons and tons of kids...(lets see, that'd be about 4000 lbs--only ten really fat kids...) well, you know...not tons, literally (Only I take my self literally) but many.
i mean, two or four (only wanting that many kids) is just not gonna cut it.
I wish you could see me--i'm making those movements with my hands that umpires in baseball make to say "Safe!"--except mine is more indicative of "flat out!"
hm..now that i have FIVE MINUTES to work on my paper, I think i'll just do it during my lunch time. i hope I have time to eat after my paper...my tummy is getting kinda rumbly.
And it's definitely time to go to class.
oh--but wait:
Who thinks that interning with MTW's publication department in atlanta next summer is a good idea?
and who knows who I should talk to?



Monday, October 28, 2002

Hey, and Ricky Jones (and Bianca) now have a little baby boy named Isaac. I'm so excited for them...Bianca has to be so glad that she's not pregnant anymore.
HIs whole name is James Isaac Jones, which is just like the boy who went to prom with me in 11th grade. (he's a nice boy)...
so everything is looking promising for this little boy's future.

yes! Greatest Reformation Day fun ever---posting random copies of the 95 theses! (Don't tell anyone in starkville)
oddly enough..the copy on the web that I found was formatted by, who else, Jonathan Hall Barlow. Go figure.--He's everywhere!
Even though I can't remember if he lived at my house.

As excited as I am that I now have comments, it's somewhat disquieting that only my sister is commenting.

And I made the word Moonerisms up.

and I need to head to get advised now.

yes, back to school. And oddly enough, after a week-end with practically no sleep and many frustrations, I'm oddly renewed.
See, fall conference was just what I needed to hear. Granted, I pretty much slept through the main speaking--Philip Palmertree's voice is just a bit too soothing when you're tired already--but the seminars were excellent and it was so good to see people from different schools.
The seminar on providence (taught by Josh Martin, my preacher's son-in-law) was just what I needed to hear--that God really is in control (who'd've thought) and that we are s'posed to be learning from our situations. As you can tell, I've not been very happy in this semester, but all I've done is complain about it. So, there ya go. I have to figure out (with God's help, because I'm not good at deciphering patterns) what I need to learn from this semester. The other seminar I took was about church discipline and being your brother's keeper. That also is not a strong point of mine. But the guy (Clint Wilke) said that he thought that if people were to start really holding each other accountable like that, there would be massive revival. Too be honest, I'm not extremely sure what Philip was teaching...I did take notes but I don't think I was really fully conscious during his talks. I hate that I wasn't. He's a really cool guy--he's even a former inmate of 525, the house at which I live. He was even an English major at State! How cool is that?
On another exciting note, I finally had that elusive conversation. And once more in my life I directly saw the outworkings of providence. I'm not wholly sure how to say this right, but because of someone's sin, I was saved a whole bunch of heartache. He should've done something a long time ago, but because he did it when he did, I was prepared and able to deal with it a whole lot better. And I think he learned much over the summer thinking of what he should've done. If that's not providence, what is?
And of course, the best part about it (except it worries me that I consider it the best) is that after we had that conversation, we just had a normal one about how much our semesters stunk--we talked for much longer than we had to. Don't ask me what that means...I'm really trying to avoid the conclusions that one could jump to...or "to which one could jump."
Another great thing about FC.--I got to talk to a girl from Ole Miss who is actively pursuing an Indian (like the country) girl with the gospel. I'm doing that at state...well, not that actively, but it's on my mind. And so it was great to be able to talk about that and just see how the Lord works.
and other good things happened...I got to eat some home-grown home cooking on the way home (that was an "emily and the boys" trip) and sleep a whole lot sunday afternoon--IT was sooo great--my notes from Sunday night church were legible and I didn't switch any of the letters around.
and, um, it's time to go to class...
I get advised today, too.
And I have to really write that paper on "Ode to the West Wind" today--with a rough draft...
whee!!
and my roomate wants to go to the "supermarket"--who calls the grocery store that??
wheeeeeeeeee----i'mmmm offffffffffffffffffffffffff tooooooooooooooooooooooo cllllllllasssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.
I think I'll skip on the way there. (skip like running and jumping, not like failing to attend class)

Friday, October 25, 2002

yay! I"m done...now to pack and get home and turn in my paper and stuff.
RUF FALL CONFERENCE, HERE I COME!!
It's abotu Haggai, too.

yes! i'm done and it's really crappy. but it's finished.
http://www.hotel-online.com/News/2002_Sep_01/k.ATF.1031157517.html
and that is a site for my flag paper.
http://www.mississippiwebsite.com/flagprotest.htm--this one looks really funny.
http://www.clarionledger.com/news/0107/11/a01.html
http://www.clarionledger.com/news/0208/28/m12.html
http://www.clarionledger.com/news/0209/01/m10.html
http://www.sunherald.com/mld/thesunherald/3632067.htm

more sites...and now i ahve to go to class. I guess I'll write the flag report after history of england...I hope I have enough time to pack.

yeah, well, I'm typing my ann. bib. now. Or I will be in five minutes, as I have wasted 15...I also have to do a short report on the controversy about the confederate battle flag display down on the Coast.
and, best of all, FALL CONFERENCE IS TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
okay, so I'm a little excited. But it's only the best time in the world and moreover, I'll get to see Ole Miss people that I never get to see and some of my fave. belhaven people are coming...and all I have to do is go to two classes, get my bib. typed and do that report, find a way home (I'll probably end up walking) , pack, and then I'm ready.
I think I'll shower, too. I woke up 10 minutes before I left my house this morning--I finally went to prayer breakfast. And it really made my day better. It's great how praying in community is.
OKay I HAVE TO DO THIS NOW, EVEN THOUGH I DON"T WANT TO! and I hope all word's automatic functions don't kick in and get really annoying.

Wednesday, October 23, 2002

did I mention how much I'm not a fan of research. or of my poor methods of research? Or of how special collections are guarded like they are the crown jewels???

blog title I've seen :"catholic and enjoying it" ... interesting.
I've only got about seven more sources to get for the ol' ann. bib. It hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be.
But I'm really sleepy from History of England..I probably slept through 5 line of notes. So I think I'm taking a nap before I get started with the Journal articles.

hah! I'm done with my eskimo paper...I'm not sure at all how good it is, but it's finished and now i have one day to do an Annotated Bibliography with 20 sources (but I already have three)...all prayers appreciated. I really am feeling that I can get this done, though. Hope I"m right. BUt anyways, If i have to do that, I REALLYREALLY REALLY don't have time to blog.
must research...

Monday, October 21, 2002

um, I gotta pee (they are all the time saying that in the eskimo book) and since I feel i'm on a roll, i'm gonna take advantage of that and go take a break.
but since i didn't bring my disk, i'm gonna save my data here. i bet it's annoying, and i'm sorry, but here it is:

Emily Jane Chapman
Dr. Loewe
Societies of the World
22 October 2002
Chilly Childrearing
In 1963 Jean Briggs, an nascent anthropologist, went to the Canadian Northwest Territories to study a group of Eskimos who call themselves the Utkuhikalingmiut (Utku). Though she was not able to learn about the shaman traditions of the culture as she intended, the culture having converted to Anglicanism, she did become adopted into an Utku family; her study’s emphasis became focused on the family and the interaction between the Eskimo. She published the study with the title Never in Anger. In this study, she recounts many episodes concerning the children of the family that adopted her. These episodes provide enough information to deduce the Utku method and rationale of and behind childrearing. Utku methods of childrearing differ significantly from the Reformed American system with which I was raised.
The Reformed American traditions differs (or should) from the mere American way of raising children because of the basis for childrearing. This Reformed word is the Reformed of the reformation of Martin Luther and John Calvin. It is probably only a dot on the Venn diagram of America—within the circle of American, then Christian, then Reformed. The reformed tradition emphasizes the Bible as the inerrant word of God and as such, applicable to all areas of life. So all those proverbs like Proverbs 3:12: “For whom the Lord loves, he reproves, even as a father corrects the son in whom he delights” and 13:24: “He who withholds his rod hates his son, but he who loves him disciplines him diligently” are considered to be mandates for raising children. Added to that general mindset is the conviction of total depravity—that is, that all mankind is inherently sinful from the inception of life, and the imago dei idea—that all mankind is made in the image of God. And of course there is the whole idea of salvation by grace through faith and not by works. My parents raised my family with these convictions and most of the families that I have been in close contact with have also been under the Reformed paradigm.
The Utku, though Christian and Anglican, do not seem to be dominated by those doctrines. Briggs did not seem to place too much emphasis on religion in the daily life of the Utku, considering the practice of religion to be the weekly prayer meetings that Innutiaq conducts, but her lack of data on that topic seems indicative that their religion (unlike my parents) does not really provide principles by which to live, with the possible exception of knocking on iglu doorways. It is not apparent why the Utku raise their children as they do.
These radically different worldviews create a vast difference in the area of responsibility and discipline.

whee--three whole paragraphs now!

I found a verse in proverbs: 14:10 th e heart knows its own bitterness, and a stranger does not share his joy...and then v13" even in laughter the heart may be in pain, and the end of joy may be grief.

the rest...it's not coming so hot

well, I've got the introductory paragraph (and a very terrible one it is, too) done...

you know, your thinking processes really are jump started if you start with an outline

would it be bad if i just stopped doing school right now? dropped out?

is "chilly childrearing" just a terrible title?

ok. brief distraction now beaten down. and crap. I forgot to bring my disk with me. That's no good.
OKay. It's almost Seven.
in the hour between seven and eight, I am going to compare Eskimo childrearing with biblical childrearing as best I can (And my non-practicing Jewish teacher can...um...deal with it).
After that, I'm going to get 14 sources for my annotated bibliography. And read them. and cite them.
This is the question for my Eskimo paper:
Compare and contrast Utku and American childrearing practices. What kinds of adults does each society hope to produce? what are the core values which underlie or inform childrearing practices in each society? HOw do notions of personhood and child development unfluence the way parents treat their children? What other factors commonly discussed by anthropologists (eg. subsistence, economy, tasks, etc.) help explain the difference between Utku and American child rearing practices.

I mean, really. Does he want us to write a book or a five page paper? I can't really remember my childhood that much--for sure not the rationale behind what my parents did, so I think I"m just gonna go with what I've seen among reformed families and kinda make up my own scheme-=-viewing the kids as fallen images of God. and it's
SEVEN NOW.

boy, at night, the people in the computer lab look a whole lot more stressed!
This is my first trip to the library for official reasons at night for this semester.
I hope it'll be productive. I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed right now which is probably why I'm blogging rather than writing the paper I need to write...
ahhhh...I feel like the ceiling is falling and the floor is rising.

mhhhmmmm...stretching is a little painful now. I hiked about 13 or so miles this past weekend. I really want to say 15 but I don't think that would be accurate. It was a very fun trip, though you wouldn't think so if you could step into my body and feel how it is hurting and see the scratches and small puncture wounds on my legs...
Sipsey (wilderness in northwest alabama) is lousy with fallen trees and we had to go around/under/over/through (pick a preposition) a ton of them and they scratched me up! It wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have a million pounds of weight strapped to me...okay, it was probably more like 25, but still...that's hefty for a short kid like me.
It was a fun trip. A b oy and a girl planned the trip and so we three that didn't called them "mom" and "Dad" and we were the kids and it was really kinda cool to have a family, even though it was pretend. It was one of the first times I had gone camping without my own mom and I really missed her. Not only has she been camping all her life, she knows all about the woods and what the name of the tree with the big huge leaves is and why this flower is like that and so forth. Also she takes a lotta pictures of plants and/or waterfalls and the parents didn't do that.

This day is very misty. Or foggy, if you like that word better. The tower of the chapel ("of memories") is shrouded in cloud and you can't see Swalm clearly from Lee Hall. But I'm planning on it not raining. It only rained a little bit while we were backpacking. That was nice.

I kept thinking of things to blog about while we were hiking (at breakneck pace) and it would slow me down because I'm not very good at walking while I'm concentrating on other things, but I can't think what all I was going to say. I did a whole lot of thinking "golly, they're TRUCKING it!"

Today I must write a paper about the Eskimo childrearing methods. That means I have to re-read carefully the book and make deductions about how they really raise their kids and then think back on my childhood (not that I really feel I'm out of it) and talk about that. The eskimos aren't much on discipline, my family was. They were practicing Anglicans, though from what the anthropologist said about their practice, it didn't seem like they have the gospel. Their views on original sin seem a little shady. I wonder if they are more reached with the gospel now. I used the phrase "people-group" in my last paper for this class and my teacher didn't like it. Is it distinctly a missionary type word? I have to do better on this paper--I need a 95...I only made an 85 last time. I didn't do as well as I should've because I put it off 'til the morning of. Never a good thing to do. The thing that gets me is that my teacher did have a ninety, but on further reflection, he knocked it down 5 points. There should be some sort of ethical standard about that. You can't change grades to be lower.

Today also I go to the dentist.
And I must work on my annotated bibliography, besides the paper. I think I'm coming back to campus after the dentist.

While I was camping, I read some chapter in Ezekiel that was really cool. I think maybe it was 34. Anyway, it developed this whole metaphor about the sheep and the Shepherd...it was practically Psalm 23 in prose. I didn't know it was there and it was really nifty to see the idea taken so much further.

And this is the last verse: ''As for you, My sheep, the sheep of My pastures, you are men, and I am your God," declares the Lord GOD.
Nifty, huh?
And now I shall read the eskimaux book.

Thursday, October 17, 2002

Wahoo! I missed my french class accidentally and I don't have class right now and so I really should be and am about to be writing the three papers that are due next Tuesday.
Friday at ten o'clock I am headed for the Sipsey wilderness to go backpacking with four other friends. I"M QUITE EXCITED! especially if the weather holds out. It's too bad I don't have one of those nifty weather meters, but let me tell you-- it's clear and cool with that nice wintery (considering we are in mississippi) touch to the air. But you can still make it in short sleeves. Anyway, I'll be backpacking in it and I really hope it doesn't rain.
Excuse me! I just sneezed.
here are the papers I have to write:
"sound and sense in Shelley's "ode to the west wind"
one about Eskimo vs. American child-rearing from the book "Never in Anger"
the report from my Delta field trip, which I have made very artsy-fartsy. I hope my teacher doesn' t mind.

I wrote a new poem about the Delta:

Dreaming of the Delta, again:

Dreaming for the delta
And often of you; but
Somehow the Delta is bigger than you—
this fertile crescent of poverty,
watered by the Mississippi and
sharecropper’s tears,
jungly with kudzu and not
quite forgotten hurts,
colored with the the blues and
white with cotton,
Astir with the fishy movement of
Millions of catfish,
Dying with small libraries
And smaller churches.

Somehow you are all in this,
Weeping with me over the poverty,
Crying over every gospel-less church with
A bluesman’s gravesite.

We’ll be riding past the soybean fields and
Flooded rice fields barely noticing the fields while the
Rows do their optical tricks and B.B. sings about his
Mother and we drive past abandoned churches in
Defoliated cottonfields.

Maybe you’ll be teaching school to
Impoverished kids who have nowhere to go
(except maybe Mississippi Valley State) as
the academies up their offers and
I tell you I’m bearing another child.

Maybe we’ll go to the levee and watch
The turbulent river roll and loll past us,
While feral hogs grunt in the underbrush
And I lay my head in your lap.

Maybe we’ll adopt and abandoned building and
Grow a church, a school, a family in it.
Maybe you’ll love me and we’ll get married
And minister to the Delta.
Maybe.

the end.

And now I shall begin to be busy.

Wednesday, October 16, 2002

I forgot one thing. Are enough people reading this to make it worthwhile to get Sensus Plenior?
Of course, since I don't have it, there's no way to tell...what if I give my email address and if enough people email me I'll get it or something.
I haven't really publicized it, since it might be awkward if state people read it...that could lead to a lot of variation in my life--
But if you read it and like it and ever really want to respond, tell me so:
ejc41@msstate.edu.
and now i'm going to research.

Wow. I should be researching for my paper on the blues--my sister gave me the best narrowing of the topic. Now it's on relationships in the blues--life and lyrics.
In class today at the library, we learned how to go about researching on the library's resources. They apparently have lots.
http://library.msstate.edu/
That's the site at which I should be looking.
I keep getting distracted, though. Other people's blogs seem to be lots more fun than the blues.
And I'm not very blue feeling today. There's this most wonderful blue sky today after a wet rainy yesterday and a cute boy just walked into the computer lab.
But he's probably not reformed, so I guess I can't worry about him.
Isn't it crazy how being reformed dramatically cuts down the marriage pool? I mean, you can't just meet any ol' joe at a coffee house and get the hook up (not that you would, anyways) but you really have to wait to meet the guys you could marry (or girls, if you're a boy) at RUF or church...and I'm sure there's other places for people in different situations. One, if not two, of my brothers met their wifes at RUF--the other met his while they were both helping out Iranian families in Atlanta. My sister met her husband on their way to a worldview conference--the one in Virginia. Me-- (or I) I'm still waiting. Pretty impatiently. Even though some of my friends are dating or practically dating seniors and that thought leaves me really scared. I mean, if I were dating a senior...unless he was planning on law, med, or hopefully seminary school, he would be able to start thinking about getting married soon.
I don't know. Could I handle being married right now? I'm still struggling with the housework (which I know isn't the biggest part of being married), and I seem to be cultivating, rather than killing, a rather rebellious spirit, but I like being supportive and helping boys do what they need to do (I'm thinking mostly of my brothers) and and...and I'll say it. My single bed is getting lonely. But I'm not really very responsible with money. I don't spend more than I have, but I don't really keep accounts of what I do spend. And even though I definitely want to have kids...lots of them, I still don't know how to take little boys to the bathroom. And I don't know if I could concentrate on school work if I was married. Who wants to go to group projects when you're married?? I guess I'd have to start shaving more than once a week if I was married. And would I have to stop burping??

okay. enough of those thoughts.
they're more than a little silly, considering that I have nothing in my horizons about which to speculate.
I did find a new word yesterday in Shelley's Mont Blanc. "Daedal-- it means intricately made, taken from Daedelus, the guy who built that labyrinth in Crete that had the Minotaur in it. Kinda exciting, huh? Feel free to use it when ever you'd like.

I still have to write that paper about my adventures in the delta, too. Too bad you can't type two things at once. That would be the most helpful thing ever. Blog and write a paper at the same time--wow. But I guess you'd need to have two brains, four hands, and two keyboards, if not two computers.

One of the boys at school has begun to call me Lisa Simpson. I've only just begun to watch the Simpsons...And to my shame, maybe, I rather enjoy them. One of the other boys has the whole first season on DVD, so I've been watching several episodes at a stretch with the boys. I'm guessing part of the reason I like them is because it's so funny to hear the boys laugh at them so much, but they also are REALLY allusive to all kindsa literature. And just the flat out wrongness of things always gets me, too. But anyway, the boy who proclaims himself "Bart" calls me "Lisa."

I really need to be productive now.

Tuesday, October 15, 2002

don't ya love ponchos and hiking boots?
actually, I'm not very fond at all of rain gear, but I decided that in this case, when it's all cold and stuff, I should probably wear some.
I sure hope the rain doesn't go to Alabama this weekend.
I'd really like to blog about my wonderful wedding weekend, but since I have class in 15 minutes, I don't think I should. At least not today.

Monday, October 14, 2002

Here is the finished (or so) paper. It's 9:35. wow. I"m not extremely proud of this, especially the conclusion, but I guess it's not too bad for having been done the morning of.
and now to get everything printed out before class...


Dejected Diction
Thomas Hardy’s occasional poem, “The Darkling Thrush” was written on the last day of the year in 1900, just before the beginning of the new millennium proper. In the poem, which has four stanzas of rhymed iambic pentameter, the speaker (which seems to be Hardy) stays outside while the twilight occurs, feeling “fervorless,” when he hears an old thrush sing passionately. This lack of fervor or passion characterizes the poem Hardy’s use of diction effectively creates a dejected emotional state.
Hardy fills the poem with words related to death. He compares the earth with a dead body: “The land’s sharp features seemed to be/ the Century’s corpse outleant” (9, 10). He implies that his surroundings aid in the portrayal of death: “His crypt the cloudy canopy/ the wind his death-lament” (11, 12). These death words—“corpse,” “crypt”, “death-lament”—and the images they create do not have associations with emotion. “Corpse” contains medical connotations rather than subjective emotions; “crypt” does not possess the same sad connotations as “grave” or “memorial;” “death-lament” does contain emotion in the “lament” but it is more suggestive of an animal’s death cry—a swan song—rather than a human regret at death. These non-emotive words—words which are objective rather than subjective—support the creation of the dejected tone.
Hardy also uses color-words to strengthen the dejection implied in the poem. Frost is “spectre-grey” (2) and the twigs are “bleak”(18). By employing grey tones,
Hardy emphasizes the lack of exceptional emotions. He leaves no strong black and white emotions, just an indifferent grey. Additionally, he implies grey colors: “And Winter’s dregs made desolate / The weakening eye of day” (3, 4). The “dregs of winter”—a phrase which conjures up images of bare branches and dirty snow—makes desolate the “weakening eye of day”—that “weakening eye” bears the image of the sunlight and twilight, another grey time of day, when nothing can be seen clearly. Further in the poem, when the thrush sings, he “fling[s] his soul / upon the growing gloom” (23, 24). This image of the gloaming—the light finally dissipating and darkness settling more and more portrays again the darkness and greyness of dejection.
Even when Hardy uses words with positive connotations, he almost seems to cancel them out by the negative words with which he surrounds them. The “full-hearted evensong” (19) the thrush sings is “among / the bleak twigs overhead” (18). The contrast of the full-hearted song with the bleak twigs limits the cheerful power of the song. Hardy describes the thrush as aged, frail, gaunt, and small (21). Although the thrush has this marvelous song, his body belies his message. And though his song is “joy illimited” (20), Hardy weakens the strength of that joy by using the words “fling[ing] his soul” (23). “Flinging” does not have a positive connotation. It rather seems to be a desperate word, done when nothing else can be done. Hardy does not use the more positive word “pouring” or even just that rather objective “throwing;” the thrush flings away from himself the joy that he knows. The contradictory nature of Hardy’s description of the bird’s singing—the occasion for the few positively connoted words in the poem—leaves the thrush with no significant emotional value. Though the thrush contains happiness, he is not able to lend it to the poem, which still has a dejected tone.
Hardy presents the lack of emotion characteristic of dejection by using many hyphenated words. He uses “spectre-grey” (2) to describe the frost; “bine-stems” (5) instead of merely saying “bushes,” “death-lament” (12) to portray the wind, “blast-beruffled” (22) to describe the thrush in the wind, and he hyphenates “good-night” (30) when he depicts the thrush’s song. These hyphenations prove to be a very effective device to illustrate the lack of emotion, the dejected tone that Hardy successfully produces. The hyphens provide for a hurried break between the words, a sort of verbal traffic light which creates a rhythmic feel to the words. This rhythm mitigates the effect of the words. “Death-lament” is somehow not as strong as “death lament.” Joining the two words with the hyphen makes the eye hurry across the word and so the full effectiveness of the powerful words Hardy uses is lost. This toning down of the powerful word—or hurrying up of the mediocre words—helps to create the tone of dejection because the emotion implicit in the pre-hyphenated words is lost or smothered.
Hardy also employs semi-religious words to produce the effect of dejection. He uses the word “carolings” (25) in the last stanza, a word that connotes Christmas, and all the joy and color associated with that season. However, the complete clause, “So little cause for carolings / Of such ecstatic sound / Was written on terrestrial things / Afar or nigh around,” (25-29) retracts that positive emotional image and leaves no comfort in the caroling. And even the “blessed Hope whereof he knew” (31) —the capitalized “Hope” implies deity and refers back to the caroling image as the birth of Christ and the hope of the gospel. The speaker is unaware of that Hope and the poem does not end with any sense of resolution. Hardy implies that even religion will bring no hope of emotion, either positive or negative, to the speaker. The dejection with which the speaker began is still present at the end of the poem.
Hardy successfully crafts this poem to create a mood of dejection and indecision. His diction and the connotations implicit in the words he chooses to complete the poem creates the emotionless mood and causes the reader to be faintly depressed at the end of the poem. The speaker enters the new millennium just as he has left the old one—without hope, dejected, and alone.

This is a paper that is due today at 10:00 CST. It's now 8:44. I still have to write and intro and a conclusion and maybe other stuff. It's s'posed to be 1000 words, but i think that's pushing it. I began it this morning at 6:20. but i planned the outline last night. the weddig kinda precluded doing anysort of homework over the weekend.

but now I have to finish it.

Dejected Diction
Thomas Hardy’s poem, “The Darkling Thrush” … Hardy’s use of diction creates a dejected emotional state.
Hardy fills the poem with words related to death. He compares the earth with a dead body: “The land’s sharp features seemed to be/ the Century’s corpse outleant” (9, 10). He implies that his surroundings aid in the portrayal of death: “His crypt the cloudy canopy/ the wind his death-lament” (11, 12). These death words—“corpse,” “crypt”, “death-lament”—and the images they create do not have associations with emotions. “Corpse” contains medical connotations rather than subjective emotions; “crypt” does not possess the same sad connotations as “grave” or “memorial;” “death-lament” does contain emotion in the “lament” but it is more suggestive of an animal’s death cry—a swan song—rather than a human regret at death. These non-emotive words—words which seem to be objective rather than subjective aid the creation of the dejected tone.
(Because in dejection, you can’t even feel)
Hardy also uses color-words to strengthen the dejection implied in the poem. Frost is “spectre-grey” (2) and the twigs are “bleak”(18). By employing grey tones, Hardy emphasizes the lack of exceptional emotions. He leaves no black and white emotions, just an indifferent grey. He implies colors, too: “And Winter’s dregs made desolate / The weakening eye of day” (3, 4). The “dregs of winter”—a phrase which immediately conjures up images of bare branches and dirty snow—makes desolate the “weakening eye of day”—that “weakening eye” bears the image of the sunlight and twilight, another grey time of day, when nothing can be seen clearly. Further in the poem, when the thrush sings, he “fling[s] his soul / upon the growing gloom” (23, 24). This image of the gloaming—the light finally dissipating and darkness settling more and more portrays again the darkness and greyness of dejection.
Even when Hardy uses words with positive connotations, he almost seems to cancel them out by the negative words with which he surrounds them. The “full-hearted evensong” (19) the thrush sings is “among / the bleak twigs overhead” (18). Hardy describes the thrush as aged, frail, gaunt, and small (21). And though his song is “joy illimited” (20), Hardy weakens the strength of that joy by using the words “fling[ing] his soul” (23). “Flinging” does not have a positive connotation. It rather seems to be a desperate word, done when nothing else can be done. Hardy does not use the more positive word “pouring” or even just that rather objective “throwing;” the thrush flings away from himself the joy that he knows.
Haedy presents the lack of emotion which characterizes dejection by using many hyphenated words. He uses “spectre-grey” to describe the frost; “bine-stems” instead of merely saying “bushes,” “death-lament” to portray the wind, “blast-beruffled” to desribe the thrush in the wind, and he hyphenates “good-night” when he depicts the thrush’s song. These hyphenations prove to be a very effective device to illustrate the lack of emotion, the dejected tone Hardy successfully produces. The hyphens provide for a hurried break between the words, a sort of verbal traffic light which creates a rhythmic feel to the words. This rhythm mitigates the effect of the words. “Death-lament” is somehow not as strong as “death lament.” Joining the two words with the hyphen makes the eye hurry across the word and so the full effectiveness of the powerful words Hardy uses is lost. This toning down of the powerful word—or hurrying up of the mediocre words—helps to create the tone of dejection because the emotion implicit in the pre-hyphenated words is lost or smothered.
Hardy also employs semi-religious words to produce the effect of dejection. He uses the word “carolings” (25), a word that connotes Christmas and all the joy and color associated with that season. However, the complete clause, “So little cause for carolings / of such ecstatic sound / Was written on terrestrial things / afar or nigh around,” (25-29) retracts that positive emotional image and leaves no comfort in the caroling. And even the “blessed Hope” (31) about which the thrush knows—the capitalized Hope which implies deity and refers back to the caroling image as the Hope of the gospel and the birth of Christ—the speaker is unaware of that Hope and the poem does not end with any sense of resolution. The dejection with which the speaker began is still present at the end of the poem.

Thursday, October 10, 2002

I've suddenly realized I sure could make this thing a lot more cool. But I'm not really sure how to do that. Maybe when my brother comes back from his honey moon, i'll ask him about it.
Yeah, his wedding is the day after tommorrow! I'm quite excited. We are finally in Ludowici, haven of the gods (or if that's sacreligious) /one of the best places over. Tomorrow is going to be a quite busy day--flowers to do and family coming and I'm so excited I should probably go to bed right now.
I could say a lot more, and I might on Monday, when life returns to normal. THat's if I get my paper done on Hardy's "The Darkling Thrush" done this weekend somehow. I think I'm talking about language but it might turn out to be imagery.
isn't it great that we do have a Hope with a capital H?

Monday, October 07, 2002

hEver feel like there's a sword of Damocles hangin' over your head and you can't do anything about it?
Frustrating, isn't it?
Frustrating has been my watch-word this semester...from my Advanced Comp. teacher never showing up to my inability to get over that boy who used to be my boyfriend to having a roomate who doesn't ask if she can borrow my clothes and never washes the dishes after she cooks (and she cooks a lot) and having boys like me with whom I'd much rather be only friends, and not having a car and blah blah blah.
But I'm still alive and that definitely counts for something. And today we are s'posed to do an inclass revision of that paper we turned in months ago for Adv. Comp. And my brother's wedding is SATURDAY!!!! That's definitely going to be the bright spot of the semester. My sister and I are leaving Wednesday for the 11 hour drive to GA. I'm soo excited.--I'm even missing my first RUF ever for this. That's dedication, huh?
The girl my brother is marrying is so completely right for him and she fits right into our crazy family and her family isn't completely sane either. I spent a week with them at the end of the summer--after camp, but before school--and had one of the best times of my life. I couldn't be more excited about the providence of God in my brother's life (and wife). Now, if they just don't hold back about having kids...
I think I began a poem last night.
I sat out on my steps for an extended period of time last night, waiting for something to happen. It was so quiet you could hear the signal box move when the traffic lights changed. But my contacts began to stick to my eyes, so I took it as a sign and went to bed.
Here is the poem:
(it needs an epigraph from Pope's "The rape of the lock"

My happiness is gone to the
moon and no amalgamation
of flirting beaus and hairless
belles can bring it back again.

It's not done. and not even that good. But it's fun and allusive and those things make me happy. Paradoxical, huh...writing about my lost happiness restores it.
odd.
We have a covenant-keeping God.

Friday, October 04, 2002

Isn't it great when God just makes you slow down? Of all those things on my list of things to do last day, I only had to go to class and go to RUF. I even got to take a nap! And I got the ball rolling for my mysterious conversation. Wheee...
I'm still sick, but improving rapidly. I hope I'm well before my brother's wedding. My nose is so red from being blown right now I'm sure it's not photogenic at all.
I'm sooooo excited about his wedding. It's crazy how it means that our family is getting complete as each wedding comes to pass...And when we are all married, my parents job will be complete. I mean, they'll still be there for advice, but their main role will be grandparents, not parents.
Growing up is so weird. Realizing that your life really begins with the grownup part of it--being adult and having jobs and raising kids--and that the whole of the part before it is merely to prepare you for being grown up--wow. Not that childhood shouldn't be a halcyonic time, but...really, we are made to be grownups.
That's crazy.
I'm going to eat breakfast now.

Thursday, October 03, 2002

ahhh..I'm sick--how I caught a cold in autumn I'm not very sure, but I sure did. If only this were the Victorian era, I'm sure they'd credit it to my sleeping with my window open. I hope it goes away soon.
I have a world of things to do today--four 75 minute classes, tutoring underprivileged kids for a while, cooking supper for my roommate dinner-party, eating with my Belhaven camp friends, going to RUF, hopefully having a much needed conversation with someone, and who knows what else will happen after RUF.
I'm quite excited about the B-haven people, but everything else is just too much. Maybe i'll make it through the day.

Wednesday, October 02, 2002

Dreaming of the Delta

And you. Principally you, but
somehow the Delta gets caught up in it, too.

You’re smiling at me with those endearing
crinkles around your blue eyes in a meadow
surrounded by the cotton fields, the vestiges of
a delectable picnic surrounding us.

We’re singing together our favorite country
songs, whirring past the flat fields in your pickup truck,
watching the rows do their optical tricks. I’m admiring
your hands on the steering wheel (lovely hands, work-worn
and gentle), rejoicing in your deep voice, unaffectedly wholesome.

We’re talking about our dreams, futures, and ideals
(typical talk) on the porch of Mrs. Sarah’s,
watching the moon rise over the pecan orchard
across the road, taking pleasure in the meeting
of our ideals, sipping sweetest iced tea.

--That was a poem I wrote in 12th grade about the Delta...and some shadowy Delta boy who I haven't met yet. Those were my impressions of the Delta from when my brother was a youth intern at First Pres, Clarksdale, the summer before my 11th grade year. I spent a couple days up there and loved it. Of course, I spent most of my time with weathly white people.
Now, after my fieldtrip (wouldn't it be gooby if it was a pivotal point in my life), I have different images of the Delta in my head. Now I think about the blues and about towns that are dying and share-cropping and people that need the gospel to clean up their lives and the poverty and all that sort of thing. Maybe I'll have to write a poem.
"To my churchplanting Husband"...Well, not really, I mean, I don't have a church planting husband, even though I'd love to, I think. If I was a boy, I'd definitely plan on being a church planter--a good excuse for going to seminary. That's the problem with being a girl--I can't go out and plant churches. I'd have a find a male accomplice to lead worship and all that kinda stuff. Maybe I will. I dunno.
At this particular point of the day, it's almost exciting to have my future all up in the air. Usually, I just want to know who I'll marry and wait for them, but today it seems fairly exciting that I might have years after graduation to be all on my own--I'm seeing seminary, I'm seeing life in a big city, I'm seeing writing...But that would mean I wouldn't be able to have as many kids as I want. I mean, you can't wait around if you want to have a bunch of kids relatively painlessly. Gee...it's time for me to get to class.