clear thinking?

I have tried to write something here for the past couple months and for some reason little fragments appear but nothing truly makes sense, and I usually end up deleting it all. I wonder what it would have sounded like if I would have kept each mini entry and combined them. It would be a chaotic mess. As I start this entry I am hoping that I will finish it by pressing "publish post" and not "delete" but who knows.

I am ready for the semester to be over. I am, however, not ready for classes and learning to cease. My return to Dordt is not. Is not. I am going to Chicago in the fall and graduating in December. Then, I will make my way to Thailand to work with orphans and teach them English. After this three month trip, which begins in January, I will hopefully enter graduate school. I am in the process of applying and will soon see if this dream will be attainable.

As my graduation comes closer I am trying to figure out what I really want out of my life. And, as I think that I grow angrier at myself, because my life is not in the future--it is now. "What do I want out of my life?" Yes, valid question, especially for someone about to leave college, but what can I get out of my life NOW? I have a friend from home who "makes every day worth it." You may ask me how, and I cannot tell you for sure. She told me that she wakes up every day and tells herself that she is going to do something new, something that she can take pride in. I admire this.

I think I am confused. (Okay, I know I am confused :) ). I know I want to be a social worker. Yes. Yes? Okay, scratch that. I know I want to help people. Yes? Yes. I know my family will always be there. Definitely true. I do not know where I want to go after my tentative plans. I am, as you know, a planner. An organizer of my life. I love planning. I need to plan. But, I have been taught that though necessary at times, it can lead to great stress and disappointment.

I think more of the question "what do I see myself doing in ten years." And I have no fricken idea. Now, I know so many people cannot answer this question. But, I do not even know what I want to do in ten years! Five! Three! Two! I don't know. I can't really see myself doing anything. I do not mean I will be a bum doing absolutely nothing. I just cannot see myself as a social worker. Maybe it will come with time.

I am ready to be done with Dordt. Yes, there will be people I miss, but I will make it a point to keep in contact with them (dear reader, I apologize ahead of time--I am horrible at keeping in contact). My excitement during my Dordt experience has been comparable to a bell curve. I am bring in my past math major. It started out low. Okay, I hated it here. But, by the third month I really enjoyed college. The rest of my freshman year was great and I would not trade it for a thing. Sophomore year depleted. New friendships were made and my roommate was amazing. She is, hands down, the best roommate I have ever had. But as most of you know I was not at my best during my sophomore year. This year, my third and final year at Dordt, has been a slow downward slope towards the way I felt about this college in the beginning. It isn't the same disliking, and I wouldn't necessarily say I do not like it here, I am just ready to move on. I truly believe I have gotten what I can out of Dordt. Next chapter please.

Yes, I do believe I will publish this one. It isn't great, but that is okay because I do not think many people read this anyway. :) I would not say I am ready for bigger and better, but I would say I am ready for different. I don't like change, but I am ready for it.

not being overlooked

I am somebody. I am not someone who can be left behind. I am a person of the female sex who loves cats. I love celery, especially with peanut butter and raisins. I love green gum and orange pop. I love driving at night and singing along with the music. I love soup--my dad's chicken soup is best when you have a cold. I love painting. I love writing for myself. I love my sisters. I love tea AND coffee. I love cooking. I love sleeping in. I love math. I enjoy snuggling up and in blanket with warm fuzzy socks on. I love cold showers. I love brushing my teeth and cleaning my ears. I am a social work major who wants to DO something. I want to go to Africa. I want to work with families living in poverty. I want to have a family. I want to settle down after a time of traveling. I want to be happy. I am an introvert who loves order. I am organized. I am not terribly artistic but I want to be. I am passive. I am quiet--many times. I am passionate. I am driven. I am a student. I am a friend. I am a sister, a daughter, a co-worker, a movie lover. I go through phases of loving apples more and then oranges more. I LOVE fruit. I love tennis. I love the color green. I love the smell of freshly cut grass. I love rain and the first snowfall (if it is after Thanksgiving). I love cutting down the family Christmas tree the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I love family traditions. I love kites. I love camping. I enjoy a good snowball fight here and there. I love sledding. I like high heels. I know there has to be something more. I have to have ice in my water. I love a brisk sunrise. I want to go skydiving. I want to ride in a hot air balloon. I want to travel. I want to be able to hold a spider. I want to do karaoke. I want to water ski. I want to be a mother. I want to spend the night in a tree house. I want to do something out of the ordinary for me. I want to pass on my love of math. I want to conquer my fear of heights. I love robins. I love Jack Johnson, especially in the spring. I want to be honest. I love my summer job. I miss my friends from home. I miss playing scrabble. I love stupid talks on an old couch. I love fire. I love California. I love the ocean. I love FRIENDS. I miss England, but more so Scotland. I have a scar on my left eyelid from pushing a pink pig in a swing. I have broken many bones. I want to look on the bright side. I want you to know WHO I am and know that I am HERE. This list is not to be forgotten. This list isn't meant to define me but it gives a vague idea. This list, is for me.

learning something new

I, along with many you, live at school. We do homework, watch tv (if time), have meetings, eat, do laundry, sleep (again, if time), etc. at school. Yes, we do go off campus once in a while, possibly for an occasional Wal-Mart run, a much needed walk with a friend, or a Sunday away at your grandparents, but generally we are here, at school. Yes, sometimes the desire to get off campus is exceedingly evident, but overall I enjoy it here. I enjoy the pace of the college—which changes depending on where you are and who you are talking to. I feel as if I am learning quite a bit this semester, but the difference between this semester and past semesters is that I am also learning how to apply what I am learning. Through various activities and opportunities I am feeling more and more like a social worker. No, I am not one yet, but knowing that I will be one within a matter of a year or so is thrilling. For now I will enjoy my classes and soak up the information I am receiving through them. Yay for class, yay for education, and yay for living at school—even if you have trouble falling asleep because of roommates who talk, burp, and throw pillows at you in their sleep.

a repeat of past times-needed especially now.

At what age do things start to get complicated? When is life no longer about waking up and playing all day until bed? When do our jobs and money start taking over? As we continue to add numbers onto our age does life continue to get more complicated? As a child do we simply accept things the way they are and live contently? Yes, as a human of a younger age we do seem to ask "why" and "how" frequently, but these questions are out of pure curiosity. Do we lose our curiosity, and if so, when? I do not want to be an "old" woman and live my life routinely. Yes, I do love routines and I love order, but I do not want to do the same thing day after day. I want excitement; I want passion; I desire desire. Doesn't everyone? Some people are quite content doing the same things throughout their life. That is the beauty in life; we are all built differently and we all find happiness in different ways of life. I am looking forward to being an 'adult' (whatever that word means). I am excited to have a job. However, I want to live like a child. This does not mean that I want to sleep in and play all day without a care in the world; however, I want to keep my curiosity. I do not want to feel weighed down by life. I want to look back and say "I would not change a thing." As of now, I can say that. I do not believe in regret. Yes, if some things in my life were different it might have been a bit easier and a few tears less, but I would not be where I am standing now if those things had not happened and those tears had not been shed. Lately, a memory has been hitched to my back. **We all ran to my grandma and grandpa as they passed out different sized glass canning jars. The five grandchildren, wide-eyed and hopeful, reached out their arms waiting for the magic catchers to hit their finger tips. Once we each had our own jar we ran outside as fast as our legs would carry us. The farm was huge, but all of us always stayed in the same area of the yard. "I see one!!! I see one!!!!" Five little girls ran around the yard trying to catch the little bits of magic flying through the air. We would never go back inside until all five jars held at least one flickering bug. The five of us stumbled upstairs into our little bedroom and lined our jars on the windowsill. We snuggled into our sheets and watched the magnificent flickers of light until our eyelids grew too heavy. When we awoke we would go out into the yard and release the magic bugs and a wish.** If I could go back to this point in time I would. I cannot imagine how beautiful it must have been for our parents and grandparents to watch their children, nieces, and grandchildren run around the yard with little glass jars in hopes of catching a firefly.

Sunday, October 5th 2008---8:31pm

12:34pm-Take off from home. **wish for a safe, fun and fast trip back to Dordt**

I love being surrounded by trees, colorful leaves, family, and water. Duluth/Cloquet is absolutely gorgeous during this time of the year.

3:00-First corn field

My mother, Becca and I drove up the North Shore on Saturday after watching Rachel kick some butt in soccer.

3:01-I wake up from a nap laughing because I was thinking about channel 4 weather man

I also caught up with Matthew. We went out for supper with his family; I love his family. I feel so comfortable around them. Annika, his youngest sister is ADORABLE!!!

3:37-First smell of Iowa--cows

On Saturday night my mom and I watched "Anne of Avonlie" What an amazing movie; for those of you who do not know, the "Anne" movies are my favorite.

5:31-"Oooohhhh lovely"

My dad was camping in the BWCA this weekend, so it was truly a girls weekend

5:57-First cow (we did see some llamas beforehand though!!!)

The weather was the picture of Fall. I was able to wear scarves and jackets comfortably.

6:00-Becca spit out her coffee due to her laughter about her convincing herself she isn't a slut

Thursday night we ate all together for the first time since mid-August. I think we sat at the table for 2 hours just talking and catching up.

6:01-I ran through a stop sign

Becca and I went to the high school to visit Rachel. We saw our old math and government teachers. It was quite odd being back in that building. All the students are tiny and seem quite angry.

6:44-Pull up to West Hall

The weekend was fast and enjoyable, but it is great to be back.

the love of a green vegetable

This week has been full of tests. By next Monday I will have completed my first round of tests in 6 out of 7 of my classes (the 7th class does not have tests included in its curriculum).
After my statistics test today I went back to the room to complete a paper due for tomorrow. It is about 6 hours later and I am still working on the same paper.
I then went to social welfare policy in the library to learn about the different types of research I need to do for a group project on homelessness. After this, I went back to my room and ate celery!!! For those of you who do not know, I love this vegetable. Today, I cut two stalks, washed them and dipped them straight into my peanut butter jar. YUM!!! YUM!!! YUMMY! I haven't had actual celery in a long time. Well, I have had it in dishes but not on its own or with its lovely partner, peanut butter. Raisins!!! Have you ever had 'ants on a log'? This was a daily treat for me when I was a youngster, that and mustard-jam sandwiches (yes, I know... gross). Ants on a log--celery, peanut butter and raisins.

CHANGE OF SUBJECT

........................................................................................................................................................................
Celery makes smile. End of story.

the comfort of corn and cow shit

Yes, I am back in Iowa--the second state of my residency. I am thoroughly enjoying it. I love summer; I enjoy relaxing a bit and working because I love it and because I need the money (which due to books and tuition is scarce). However, there is something about school, the busyness, the craziness, the sleeplessness, the “holy crap! I barely studied for this test”-ness, that holds a dear place in my heart. Maybe I have these feelings because it is my last year on campus (crosses fingers), maybe it’s because I am living in an apartment filled with laughter, thought provoking conversations, and comfort, or maybe it is due to my love for school. I love school—yes, I am a nerd. But, you all knew that already, and if you didn’t all you need to know is that I was a math major and I still absolutely love the subject.
New goals and aspirations for this school year have taken form. I hope to meet many new people. I really hope to soak up my classes and breathe the information I am given. I want my passion to grow, I am working towards a better-rounded schedule, and I want people to see my desire for life behind my eyes.
My classes are much more focused on what I hope on doing occupationally. I am overloading (21 credits baby!). I am taking: human biology, aging and social work, practice methods II, fundamentals of social work, social welfare policy, and statistics. Many of the social work classes are macro focused which points towards my desired field of social work.

I am in the campus center’s computer lab as of now and I have a scarf wrapped around my neck; it smells like corn. Not the kind of corn you eat but more like the smell corn has when it’s in the field. It’s a comforting smell, to me. My sister, who is new at Dordt, has been commenting on the smell of cow manure. It does not always smell of shit, but when it is rainy the smell is definitely evident. Maybe I am one in a million, but I enjoy that smell. MMMM! The smell of shit in the morning (specifically cow shit) places a sense of comfort in my chest. To clarify I do not enjoy the smell of human feces, cat poop, or elephant dung.
Well, IA, here I am and here you are.

quiet

"She says "wake up, it's no use pretending." I'll keep stealing, breathing her. Birds are leaving over autumn's ending. One of us will die inside these arms. Eyes wide open, naked as we came. One will spread our ashes 'round the yard. She says "If I leave before you, darling. Don't you waste me in the ground." I lay smiling like our sleeping children. One of us will die inside these arms. Eyes wide open, naked as we came. One will spread our ashes round the yard."

Enough said?

a trip back to the nether-times.

So, as most of you know and as stated in a previous entry, I am sick... yes presently sick. It has been about two weeks and this cold will not go away. I went to the doctor today and he did the regular check-up dealio and it is just a cold but he gave me some pills. Hopefully they will help a bit. Anyways, back to the real point of this entry.
I took today off of work; it was my first day calling in sick. I really needed it though. For the past three days I haven't worked and all I have done is sleep and lay on the couch. Sleep in my bed, take a shower, lay on the couch, go to my bed and sleep, repeat. High school memories came screaming back due to this cycle. I have not been sick at home in a loooooong time. I forgot how nice it is to have your mother take care of you when you are ill. Just having her bring me my medicine with a glass of water or her bringing me a cup of crushed ice is heart warming. She has even massaged my neck! Amazing. However, having my mother take care of me has brought back memories of high school back. I felt as if I was going to wake up in the morning and have my mother call the school to excuse me for the day. I felt like my sister was going to come home with a large bag of books and a list of homework I had missed from the day. This did not happen. There is no bag of books or list. My mother did not have to call anyone, other than the doctor. The only thing waiting for me after this sickness passes is a large pile of paperwork for me to do and some reading I have to catch up at work.
No one wishes to be ill, but it has been a blessing. I am finding new happiness in every little thing lately. Without this sickness I would not have been able to just relax for a bit this summer. I have caught up on sleep, much needed sleep at that; also, Rachel and I have entered in to some fascinating conversations. Becca and I have done the same, but we seem to have these conversations more readily than Rachel and I do. Lastly, I have found a new love for my mother. Do not get me wrong, I love my mother and I always have, but seeing her care for me the way she does makes me want to be like her. I do not like I really appreciated what she did for me when I was in elementary, middle, or high school.

Sad thing though--- my man voice is slowly going away. So, if you want to hear my seductive "come to me baby, uhuhuhuh" call me as soon as possible. :)

loves

A walk through my summer.

At least part of it.

Silliness

Being quirky

A bond that will never separate

Close friendship

Swimming in the FREEZING lake.

Kite flying!!!

For Melissa

the voice of a man

"I thought you underwent a sex change operation."
"You sounded as if you were trying to impersonate someone... but it wasn't working."
"Who is in there because that is certainly not Renae."

Yes. I am sick and my man voice is back. Throughout high school it was an annual ordeal. Every year my man voice would come upon me in the fall. This past fall, however, I was lucky enough to miss this annual event. Somehow, though, the voice has found me in the summer. Now that it is back I realize that I did miss it. Don't get me wrong, I do hate being sick. But, there is something oddly fun about having a scratchy manly voice.
Imagine me looking at you in a seductive sense saying "Come to me baby, rawwrrrrrr." :)
I love it.

I would consider summer pretty much over. August has hit and at work I am now labeling everything with an 8 at the start. August has always been the month that you get ready for school, at least for me. New pens and notebooks. I am excited! I am soaking the rest of this summer in. Who knows, it may be my last summer at home... if plans work out. However, having my sister on the same campus I am on and being able to get together with her for a cup of tea whenever is glorious.
It is my last year at Dordt. My last first day of school. My last summer into school shift. My last August school supply shopping month. Odd.
I am ready baby. Bring it on. ;)

revenge in a lighter sense.

"I have walked down this road before. I have seen this tree and this grain of sand. I have smelt this air and touched this leaf; I have crossed this path; I have feared that and cut this part out. I have played this and moved, maybe."
Your fear. Plopping down into the things that were. Sinking into what was. Being trapped in yourself, again. What if it happens again? Who will be there this time around? You have found out who will leave during the bad. You have seen who will give up on you. You know who backs out when things get rough. You know who will not even hold your hand as a friend when you know you need it the most. What if... what if... we all know. You can hold on to two. Two. Two. Two? Can you be sure? You thought, you were sure you could hold on to one. That one is gone and will stay gone. Never to return, for the best and the one is not welcome, ever. But, how can two hold you up? Two who do not know of the other. Two who hold different aspects of your life; two who connect to different things; two who mean so much, just as the one. Two?
What about those minds that will never open? What about the hurt that those doors cause? They are doors, not walls. Walls cannot be opened and were never opened. Doors, however, at one point in time were open and could be walked through, but now they are locked.
Did you ever have a toy that you really really, absolutely desired when you were a child? You wanted it incredibly, terribly bad. You would ask your parents for it every chance you would get. You would think about it when you waited to fall asleep. But, once you received that toy, once you actually got your hands on it and you were able to play with it you found out it is not what you wanted. You fell in love with the idea of the toy, but the toy itself was a let down. Has this happened to you?
Do you smell the lavender? Do you see the purple? Can you touch the greenery?
Do you know the bee? Can you talk with the wind? Do you hear my whisper?

you.

Tonight, I smoked a cigarette
and you came screaming back.
Waves of tastes and smells found a way to reconnect,
and the smoke danced itself into the sky.

The night told me what to say
and, yes, I knew the answer anyway.
My head told my heart what to do,
and the smoke danced itself into the sky.

You found a way in, and I out.
And yes it is true--I know what to do.
A sense of self has returned and
I have quit you.

The pieces seemed to have gone awry
but the puff put them in their place.
A deep breath and a tingle of the lips,
and the smoked danced itself into the sky.


This is a little thing I wrote tonight at work. There is no real face behind it; it is mostly a modge-podge of people/ideas/feelings. This summer has been wonderful, and yes, I do realize I am using the past tense form of the verb, but in my book summer is nearly over. One of my best friends is making the travel back to college this Saturday and that usually is a landmark in my summer. I am ready for school. I am ready for new pencils, clean notebooks, nervous freshmen, familiar faces, and late nights. I am excited for new roommates, social work classes, familiar giggles, hugs, tears, and Wednesday night talks. I will miss sisters day, after work calls to you, my bed, sleeping in, comforts of home, and my job.
I have many projects in mid... mid... in mid.
This summer has been a peach, and no, not in the quirky somewhat cutesy word way. This summer has been the actual fruit. No need for explanation. You know you get it. You are the one I love. You will always be and have always been there. No need for words, our eyes can talk to each other.
Who knew what a cigarette could do.

glass jars and fireflies

At what age do things start to get complicated? When is life no longer about waking up and playing all day until bed? When do our jobs and money start taking over? As we continue to add numbers onto our age does life continue to get more complicated? As a child do we simply accept things the way they are and live contently? Yes, as a human of a younger age we do seem to ask "why" and "how" frequently, but these questions are out of pure curiosity. Do we lose our curiosity, and if so, when?
I do not want to be an "old" woman and live my life routinely. Yes, I do love routines and I love order, but I do not want to do the same thing day after day. I want excitement; I want passion; I desire desire. Doesn't everyone?
Some people are quite content doing the same things throughout their life. That is the beauty in life; we are all built differently and we all find happiness in different ways of life.
I am looking forward to being an 'adult' (whatever that word means). I am excited to have a job. However, I want to live like a child. This does not mean that I want to sleep in and play all day without a care in the world; however, I want to keep my curiosity. I do not want to feel weighed down by life. I want to look back and say "I would not change a thing."
As of now, I can say that. I do not believe in regret. Yes, if some things in my life were different it might have been a bit easier and a few tears less, but I would not be where I am standing now if those things had not happened and those tears had not been shed.
Lately, a memory has been hitched to my back.
**We all ran to my grandma and grandpa as they passed out different sized glass canning jars. The five grandchildren, wide-eyed and hopeful, reached out their arms waiting for the magic catchers to hit their finger tips. Once we each had our own jar we ran outside as fast as our legs would carry us. The farm was huge, but all of us always stayed in the same area of the yard. "I see one!!! I see one!!!!" Five little girls ran around the yard trying to catch the little bits of magic flying through the air. We would never go back inside until all five jars held at least one flickering bug. The five of us stumbled upstairs into our little bedroom and lined our jars on the windowsill. We snuggled into our sheets and watched the magnificent flickers of light until our eyelids grew too heavy. When we awoke we would go out into the yard and release the magic bugs and a wish.**
If I could go back to this point in time I would. I cannot imagine how beautiful it must have been for our parents and grandparents to watch their children, nieces, and grandchildren run around the yard with little glass jars in hopes of catching a firefly.

a teal painted room

Yes. I am still alive and breathing. Breathing and smiling.

I haven't forgotten about blogging. I actually have tried starting a new post but I never know how to write what I want to say. To be honest, whenever I work a midnight or have at least five minutes to sit and relax blogging comes to mind.

I think I have started about 27 different blogs since the beginning of this summer and I have not completed one of them. Each one starts out somewhat the same and then they all take drastic turns. The subjects vary from working-to my summer so far-to defining myself-to waiting for life to happen-to questions about my being-to questions about the way in which I think-to my love of my friends from home-to singing RENT songs in his car-to relearning who I am and who I want to grow into.

That said, I honestly do not know where this blog is going to end up. It is hard describing my summer to those who have never been to my home town or met my best friend(s).

Therefore, this will be a hometown-neutral blog.

Happiness has found its way back. Or, I have found my way to happiness? I am sitting on my bed, half in pj's and half in the outfit I wore to work today, teeth brushed, make-up still on, mosquito bites all over my legs and ankles and completely content. Content is actually the wrong word. Utterly excited and enthused about life.
I am working on building a canvas for my painting. Yes, I could go to Wal-Mart and buy 3 white boards for 2 dollars or I could spend a bit more time cutting and nailing the wood together and stretching the sheet over the newly built frame. I think I will go with the latter.
Nothing is holding me back. I can go anywhere and do anything I want. (Yes, money may be a factor but I am working (pun) on that). Whenever I drive to or from work, the independent woman role takes over me. (take from that what you will) :)

I guess my struggle with knowing what exactly to type within this "new post" is merely the awe I have.
Eh, here's to best friends, talks over a bonfire, road trips up the north shore, working/caring for people who have worked their way into your heart, getting napkin notes on your car at work, sister days, hugs goodnight knowing you will see them tomorrow, needed conversations, independence, confidence, love, life, parents, and you.

PS-Making muffins and playing Scrabble are perfect things to do on a late date night.

Love you all,
(Will write frequently)
Renae

finding myself

I have been listening to Damien Rice's album "O" for the past couple of days. I have listened to other things as well, but this seems to be the latest staple of my music selection. It is amazing how music influences your mood, or even how it comforts you when you feel alone. We hear of comfort food… do we all have our own comfort music as well?
Procrastination has taken hold of me—even within this blog entry. I clicked “new post” with the intent to write about these past couple of months and what I have worked towards, what I have accomplished, what I am going to work on, and my doubts. So, in light of pointing out my procrastination within this blog, I am going to type for ten minutes (or until I feel satisfied) without stopping. (We did an exercise like this in my 10th grade English class. At the beginning of every class my teacher, Mr. Rhicard, would give us a prompt such as “least favorite childhood memory” or “if I was a person of the opposite gender…” We would have five minutes of freehand writing and we were not allowed to stop writing. For Mr. Rhicard….

I think I am supposed to be here. For a long time I felt as if I had made the wrong decision in coming to Dordt, but after all this work and growth (I guess you could call it growth) I know I am where I should be. I understand, now, why I went through everything I did. From October to about March I kept asking God why I had to go through depression. I did not understand what I had done to deserve these feelings. I was mad at God for allowing me to go through the things I went through. My life was good. There wasn’t anything “depressing” about it, so then why would I, a genuinely happy 19 year old college student, become depressed/suicidal? I do not have an outright answer right now, but I am getting closer to figuring it out. Also, I am no longer angry with God. I have accepted what I have gone through and what I am going through. Yes, I have depression and yes I was suicidal. For the longest time I was afraid/ashamed of telling people. I didn’t want people to think that I was trying to get their attention or pity. I do not want to seem as if I am putting myself on a pedestal, because I really do not think that, but I have worked my butt off in getting where I am today. (Also, there have been so many people guiding me and holding my hand through this—Lisa, Melissa, my mom, Steph, Joseph, and Jason). Thank you. I love each and every one of you and I know it sucked a lot of the time, but I really truly appreciate it and I cannot thank each of you enough.
I have gone through my share of counselors. Ha. I have now gone through five counselors (3 in the past couple of months). They all have either had a change in occupation, became pregnant, or had a medical issue… so they are justified reasons. I had “assignments” from my counselors and I did them, whether I wanted to or not. A lot of them sucked. They were supposed to. My most recent counselor asked me if I could pinpoint when I started to feel “better” and I could not give her an answer. I would say during the month of March/April, but there is definitely not a set date as to when everything turn right-side-up. It was definitely a gradual thing; it is still going. There are so many things I still want to work on. I need to reestablish my faith. I need to be more comfortable with who I am. I need to learn to depend on people more—this has been getting better.
I am not ashamed. I will not shy away from any questions. I have had people ask me if I have tried to kill myself. I have had people ask if I still think about it. They ask me about my lowest point, and some ask if there was anything they could have done to help. I have had people ask pretty much any question you can think of. Many people ask “why”… that is the question I can answer knowing they will not understand. No matter how well I explain the way I thought and what I was going through no one will understand ‘why’. I do not expect people to understand it; in some ways I do not want them to understand it because that would mean that they would have had to go through something quite similar. I do not want people to look at me differently. I am not the same person—but you all still know me. Don’t be afraid of what I am thinking, do not be afraid of what you should or should not say to me, do not look at me differently, I do not want any of those things. I am not writing this here for anyone else’s benefit but my own. I need to do this. I need to tell people in some way. Some people already know, but I feel as if now I am comfortable enough with myself to do this.
I have passion again. I have desire again. I laugh, joke, and smile without forcing it. I am happy. Overall, yes, I am content. People will always have things about their life that they wish could be a bit different, but all in all I would not trade anything I have gone through for anything at all.

‘Cannonball’ is a magnificent song. The transition from ‘The Blower’s Daughter’ to ‘Cannonball’ is beautiful. Close your eyes and listen to it. I try not to think about anything but the lyrics. Try it.

Much love.
Renae

a dream

I had a dream the other night, but I do not remember what it was. I remember bits and pieces of it; however, there are so many parts of it missing. Usually this wouldn't bother me. I do not remember every dream I have, and I definitely do not always remember the entire dream itself. However, this dream was different. Something about it was unsettling. What is so unsettling? I do not know. All day I have had this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I think about it. Bits of my dream will enter my mind and I get shaky. This has never happened to me before. What was so bad about the dream? I did not wake up afraid. It wasn't a "bad" dream; I know that for sure. Yet, somehow it sends an icy cold chill down my back whenever I think about it.

sunday

“Peace is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to cope with it”

This quote is on my grandmother's fridge. I knew when I read it that I wanted to write a blog about it and while I wrote the blog I would listen to "Let it Be." Yes, I am listening to it. I spent about 20 minutes trying to find the quote on the internet so I could get it correct, but here it is.
Within this broken world we will never be without conflict. That has been proven. The lives of so many have been tested. We are surrounded by suffering, but we are also surrounded by ways in which we can cope with it. I see the suffering; I see the people wanting to help.

I painted quite a bit this weekend. Usually it takes me about 2 weeks (on average) to finish a painting and be pleased with it. This weekend I started and finished two paintings. I am completely satisfied with one. The second one is done, there is no doubt about that, but it does not look right. Now, I have seven paintings hanging on the walls of my dorm. I can remember the exact emotions I had while I painted each picture. What an amazing release painting can be.

Friday and Saturday were wonderful. Friday afternoon I went to Orange City to help my 17 year-old cousin get ready for her first prom. I did her hair, nails, make-up, and helped her pick out her jewelry. She is the oldest of four girl and her family has gone through their own sorts of hell. It was uplifting to be able to spoil her a bit, at least for a day. As I curled and pinned up her hair we talked about my proms, boys, school, dogs, make-up, clothes, her friends, my friends, family, and her favorite types of music. Hanging out with her for the majority of the afternoon/evening made me realize how much I truly miss my sisters. (They both have boyfriends now and I wish I could be home to have girl-talk with them over a cup of tea and a F.R.I.E.N.D.S. episode or two.

Friday night I played a game with Lise, Craig, Lise's sister and brother-in-law, and Stephy. Later that night Steph and I bought sherbet and watched movies. Glorious. Saturday we went to lunch(aka breakfast on Saturday mornings) and watched more movies. That night I spent most of my time giggling with Lise. We watched You-Tube videos of children and old people getting hurt. (We may sound horrible... we may be horrible... but it was hilarious!) We did manage to find time for our Saturday night walks, with a smoke or two.

In about a week and half all of the studying will be done, the homework will be terminated, notes will be thrown away, rooms will be empty, Dordt will be quiet. Wow. I am half way done with college--one year left at Dordt. Weird. Summer will be great. I am excited to get back to both of my jobs and I am more than ready to see Matthew and Joseph, but I am far from ready to leave this place. However, in no time at all we will be back here with a whole new list of classes and not ready for the homework to begin... again.

love-friendship-comfort...

sisters

a bear hug

I have a friend at home, let's call him Schmatthew. He is one of my best friends--one of the two. He is the one who brings me yellow roses when I am feeling down, he sings "You're Beautiful" in a glorious voice (note the sarcasm), and he gives the best hugs in the world. Whenever I come home from college he is the first person I call. We will go on our nightly drives with our coffee/apple cider and talk. Talk. About everything. It starts out about how our classes are going and how we are doing with college and whatnot, and then it evolves into our non-existing romantic lives (ha) and into our hopes, dreams, ambitions, fears, loves, pasts, everything!!!
Before our drives through Duluth and the silence rule we follow as we drive over the hill and see my city for the first time, we always have our hug. He usually picks me up, comes in and gives me an initial hug. Then, we both talk with my parents for a bit and once we leave my house we hug again. This hug is what I miss. He is about 6'4" and powers over me. Whenever we hug, I am safe.
Te eche de menos, Schmatthew.

a song of relief

When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree,
there will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see,
there will be an answer. let it be.

Let it be, let it be, .....

And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me,
shine until tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, .....

**help me**

a rare leg disease!

"What happened to your legs!?!?!?!"---numerous girls asking me as I left the shower.

My doctor requested that I keep track of all the bruises on my legs. How in the world am I supposed to do that? There are so many. Well, she suggested taking a permanent marker and tracing them.
Done.
Humorous.
I have countless red splotches all over my legs.
Next time you see me, ask to see them if you wish.

It could be fun answering these numerous questions with a complex sounding, rare leg disease. HA!

selfishness?

I have been working on myself a lot lately. I feel like I have made a lot of progress and others have said that they have noticed a difference. I have, however, had an issue with this whole 'focus on me' thing. I feel selfish. I am a people pleaser and I thoroughly enjoy helping others and working with others to help them solve their problems, and when I start to focus on me and working on my problems I feel as if I am being selfish with my time and my energy.
I know I cannot fully help others unless I am completely healthy and feel content with who I am. I do have one more thing I have to do. I have started the process, but this thing may infringe upon one other person's comfort. The problem: I need to do this! In order for me to be able to truly be 'okay' I need to get this thing over with. However, I cannot do it without possibly hurting someone. What do I do?
People have told me that I need to do this for me.
I have taken the plunge.
Deep breath.
I jumped in the deep end.
Let's hope I can come up for air before things get worse.

a walk in an odd place

This weekend was bookended with greatness. The choir concert was superb. I love choir; I love listening to choirs. I was in choir throughout all of middle and high school, but I am wonderfully glad I am not in it here. How amazing is it listening to numerous voices coming together. The choir concert was one bookend. From then on the weekend went downhill for a bit. Saturday, I believe, was the most pointless day I have had in a long time. I slept until noon, went to lunch, watched a movie with the roomie, and laid in bed for about four hours. I did not take a nap or read, I just laid there doing nothing. It was probably necessary, but I felt like such a pile. Then, a movie with a couple of good friends. Across the Universe is a good movie--intense at some points, but overall two thumbs up. Today, Sunday, I went to my grandparents in Orange City for Sunday dinner, a common occurrence, but three of my four cousins on that side were there today. Raquel, 17, Riley, 11, and Regan 9--almost 10!!, were there. We were missing Ranell, 16. (Yes--we are all named with "r". My name is Renae, my sisters are Rebecca and Rachel, my mom is Ruth and my dad is Russ, my uncle is Randy, my grandpa is Robert, and our last name is Rowenhorst). Anyways, I helped Raquel try on my old prom dresses and we had a "girls" day with my younger cousins and my grandma. I forgot how much I miss hanging out with my cousins. They are all so genuine and absolutely love life even if it hasn't handed them the best luck. After our prom talk my cousins left and my grandma and I had a wonderful talk. She started out with "have you kissed any frogs lately?" I looked at her with a bit of confusion and she explained herself. "Have you found any princes lately-you know you have to kiss a few frogs before you find that one prince." I love love love my grandma. (This is a different grandmother than the one I mentioned in a previous blog). I left their house with homework in mind and hopes of tea, however I was sidetracked. I found myself driving into the local cemetery. I walked around in the silence. I wasn't really in search of anything, but if felt right to be there. As I walked around I found my great grandparents on the Rowenhorst-Rowenhorst side. I did not know my great grandma, but she held on to meet me. She died one week after I was born. I have heard wonderful stories about her, and I have always felt some sort of connection with her even though I do not remember a thing of her. I sat there, in front of her grave and told her everything. After the long talk with my great grandmother I came back to Dordt and continued my honesty with a close friend. It was insanely needed and is greatly appreciated. Now, I am sitting in my room, alone, watching Peter Pan. !!!!! I forgot how much I love Disney movies. I wish the library had Beauty and the Beast. That movie is, hands down, my favorite Disney movie. I hope my children can grow up knowing the Disney movies I grew up on: Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, The Jungle Book, etc.

a kite, a song, and a red breasted bird

It may be snowing right now, but it is Spring. Everything points to it. I saw my first robin yesterday. I have this thing where when I see my first robin of the spring I put Jack Johnson into my CD player. I listened to Queen's "Killer Queen" as well. As of late, that is my favorite song. Favorite album-Plans, Death Cab. Favorite Artist/s-Iron and Wine. I think Melissa can agree with me that Plans is an amazing album and can be listened to unlimited times.
As I was driving back from a meeting in Orange City yesterday, I had my sun roof open and my Jack Johnson playing and I realized that I want to fly a kite. Does anyone want to join me? I have one and it is awesome! It is Iowa so there isn't a lack of wind. Lets pack a picnic and fly a kite--please?!?
Something happened and I have been uplifted...(that may not be the correct word). Maybe it is the upcoming summer, maybe it's winter falling and spring growing, maybe it is a change of view, maybe it is a stronger understanding of myself. I love long talks over coffee (or tea). There is something about sitting with one other person and getting everything out into the open. I do not have to hide behind anything anymore. I have no idea when this happened, and yes things aren't 100% yet, but they are getting there.
My roommate and I were talking tonight about wonderful things. It has been the first time in a long time that I cried because I was so happy. What a wonderful feeling! I didn't cry because I laughed so incredibly hard, but it was a cry of true happiness.
A sense of hope has presented itself.

A side note-I am completely happy for you (You know who you are). If you are happy, I am happy (as cliche as that sounds, it is true).

A note to everyone: embrace Spring. Listen to your 'Spring' music. This is the time of the year that I regain conscienceness of the rebirth of creation.

jezebel

Sitting in my grandparents office, taking in the smells of my childhood, I snatched up a book. I did not look at it first; I simply dug into the bookcase, and took the one my finger tips touched first. Laying on the third futon in 4 days, I chuckled when I read the title. It was a small book, a mere 97 pages, but it contained pieces of my life. Intrigued, I opened it to read the first sentence and broke down into tears-tears that have not come in months, oddly enough.
"You may be thinking, But why is it necessary to cry out? Doesn't scripture tell us that God knows our hearts? When we utter a prayer in our heart or mind, surely there's no critical need to express aloud what God already knows."
Wow. An unspeakable 'wow'.
To those who are confused as to why this quote holds such an unbreakable grasp on me... I will not go into great detail here, but if you wish, ask me about it in person. It really should be discussed in person anyway.

I have the fishbowl feeling again. It never does go away, but there are times when it weans it's way out of my everyday life. Not today. Today is a flood of fishbowlness. Who knows why it is obvious one day and scarce the next?

For the past week I have been soaking up the sun in California. I did not come back with a tan but I did come back with a stronger understanding of love and family. My grandparents have been married for 60 years. My grandfather, 84, is in the early stages of alshiemerz and my grandmother, 82, is the rock. He may not be able to cut his own food, remember his daughters names, or even know what he did in the previous five minutes, but he does remember the life they shared together. No, he obviously does not remember everything; goodness, I heard him even call his wife his mother once. She corrected him quickly. Even through this deterioration of memory the bond still exists.
I don't know how to explain it. Maybe it is something you have to witness yourself, I don't know. All I can truly say is when I would see them hold hands and just sit...(I don't want to get sappy but) I could not help but think that that was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

My grandmother is a spitfire. One night I was talking with her and one of my aunts and my grandmother says out of the blue, "Sex, sex, sex. That is all people talk about these days. It is everywhere. I had no clue about that kind of stuff before I was married. I tell you, I was in for a surprise." My aunt and I looked at eachother in a kind of awkwardness and giggled. The subject turned to questions of how much I knew about the subject, and I quickly turned it into a different direction. Furthermore, my grandmother and I were picking oranges off of one of their trees and a neighbor boy (more teenagerish) was outside and she muttered to herself, "I wonder if he has been smoking dope again." She looked at me and smiled. "Well he does." HA!
Alrighty, one more. She took my grandfather for a ride and I went along to go into Trader Joes to help pick something up for her. As I was getting out of the car she told me she would jsut wait in the car with her husband. As he looked over at her she laughed and said "Don't hurry Renae, we are going to make love in the car." The look on my grandfather's face was priceless-confusion and utter shock.

Whoever reads this may believe that I am 'better'. Not to break it to you, but I am far from it. Break has taught me that. Please, let's sit down with a cup of coffee and talk this out. Just listen. Listen. No advice. Do not pretend you understand. Do not say things happen for a reason. Do not tell me things will be fine. Listen. Listen.

Just listen.

fields of naked land

Love.
Prayer.
Forgiveness.


Strip yourself down to nothing. Break away from the things you define yourself by. Step away from the people you believe make you who you are. Now what?
You can no longer call yourself a daughter, mother, child, son, roommate, friend, brother, sister, or student. Who are you?


Why do you act the way you do?
Introvert?
Extrovert?
Realist?
Idealist?
Idrealist? (J)

Why do you believe the things you do?
Democrat?
Republican?

How do you define your faith?
Christianity?
Hinduism?
Buddhism?
Animism?


I have been walking up a dark staircase, and when I get to the top I still am expecting a stair when there isn’t one. My foot goes up, comes down, and “oh shit.” There is that moment of feeling completely…helpless, but that moment usually lasts seconds. Usually.

How do I define myself without the previously listed things? How does anyone really begin to define themselves?

If I was not raised in a Christian household, would I consider myself a Christian?

Definition of self-frantically pulling out hair in hopes of some sort of answer.

I have been fighting this question/definition for some time now, and I have not gotten any closer to an answer. I know I will never be able to fully define who I am and what the point of my life is, but some sort of inkling would be nice. I am trying to stay away from who I think people want me to be and who I really am. I keep running myself into circles. Round and round. I AM GETTING DIZZY.

I heard a quote today. It was supposed to bring some sort of hope or comfort. I do not believe it lived up to its expectations. It was said in hopes of a response along the lines of "Ah. Yes. That makes sense." Those words were not spoken. Nothing was said.

"Never forget the three powerful resources you always have available to you: love, prayer, and forgiveness."


Love…
“I love you.”

It is said too easily in our society, but not enough.

We all say it on a whim without really knowing what it means. It is not a feeling. It is not a portrayal of our actions to let people know what the relationship means. It is a commitment. It means I will work with you through anything. I will be here, maybe not in the same way we started, but I will be here. Friendship or otherwise, I will be here. Someone told me once that you cannot hate someone until you have loved them first. First hearing this brought intrigue and a bit of confusion; however, think about it. Hate is such a strong emotion. It comes about by being disappointed, misled, disregarded, etc. by someone you truly care about. If someone you did not love did these things it would not matter; hate would not grow. Is hate and love seemingly the same thing?


Prayer…
“God, please be with so-and-so today.”

Are these the words that form our prayers?

They did make up the majority of mine.

Many of you know my present standing on prayer. I am working on it. I wish it was easier, but if everything was easy we would not get anywhere would we? (Think about it.)

Praying for something to miraculously happen does not mean you helped in the matter. If a friend is in dire need of strength, a hand to hold, some foundation, help them. Help in this sense does not mean prayer.


Forgiveness…
"Forgive and forget"

How does one come upon forgiveness? It is not something you can acquire through steps, is it? How do you forgive someone for something unspeakable?


I decided when I was about ten that I would never say “I forgive you” to someone without truly knowing that whatever was done was forgiven.

‘Forgive and forget’—No. Impossible. I will forgive, but I will never forget. What has happened is now a part of me and I will never forget.

I desperately want to say those words. No, correction; I desperately want to mean those words.

But, I cannot force it.

March 11, 2008

is ____________.

**fill in the blank**

the list

January 1st usually brings these thoughts to mind to many people. I, this year, was worrying about other such things and did not make a list/resolution; honestly, I don't really like the idea. But, as I was driving home from Orange City last night I couldn't help but create a mental list of things in which I wish I did more of.

I should...
take more pictures
write more
sing at the top of my lungs...in private :)
soak up the sunshine
continue my painting
be honest with myself
------and others
read...for fun more
call my high school friends
run harder and faster
listen to my mother ;) (She does know best)
write letters to my sisters frequently
challenge myself
provide an ear
------a shoulder
------and a heart
travel
learn how to knit a hat and not just a scarf (I now have about 5)
listen
ask for help when I need it
smile at everyone
learn how to play Rook
jump in the newly formed puddles
remember my past
------not regret it
live in the present
------not forget about it
and
dream for the future
------not worry about it

nose hairs

It is March and it snowed. I do not know what is within us that believes once March hits it is supposed to be spring, but everyone has it. Initially, frustration set in when first seeing the white flakes fall while I ate my wonderful cereal and raisin toast in the commons. However, after my wonderful piano lesson I just stood outside of the campus center and soaked the snow in. It was beautiful. It was falling horizontally; my parents warned me of this. I had never seen snow fall this way. I enjoyed it. It may be frigid but it is beautiful. There is something about walking outside and breathing in the cold air and feeling your nose hairs freeze. Refreshing. We must embrace this snow fall, even if it was on March 6th. Who knows, it may be the last snow fall of the 2007 to 2008 winter. Spring will come and the snow will melt, sometime. Iowa winters, I have heard, take up 7 months of the year, and people get sick of the cold and snow quickly. But, please, embrace the beauty of the cold, frigid whiteness. In its own way... it is gorgeous.

the tapping

I am… quite possibly… living in a fishbowl. I discovered that tonight. Some people randomly come up and tap on the glass; they make sure you are still there… that you are still alive, but there is no real communication.

I am sitting here, in the Bean, watching all the other groups. There are distinctive groups. The ones studying, not pretending, but actually getting their work done, are sitting in the corners. There are ones who are pretending to study—they have their books out and open but are talking with others or are even just staring off into space. And then there is the other group—they don’t even pretend to study. They are loud and do not care who they are interrupting. Yes, I know, if I really wanted a quiet place to get things done I would go to the library or to my room or somewhere else… anywhere else. But, it is the people here that really make it what it is, whether I like them or not (that is not meant to sound harsh, or is it?)

This fishbowl feeling is not prevalent just now, however. It is everyday. Who actually asks how you really are? If people really did that and if people answered completely honest we would have many more deep and heartfelt conversations. People like to pretend that they are doing more than just tapping on the glass. “How are you? Really, how are you?” “How was your day?” “Are you sure you are feeling okay?” These questions are ones I get every day, but do these people really, truly want to know?

I have a few people who are the ones who put the fish food in the bowl.

Does any of this make sense?

The people who actually interact and ask the questions that need to be asked come in few numbers. I don’t need a lot of them, honestly. But, sometimes I just want to scream all the things I am going through to those who think everything is okay. Maybe I have an anger problem… that is quite possible.

Yet, here I am, in the fishbowl. Watching.

comfort

It was clean, but it is supposed to be. I was the youngest person there. I did not expect to drive up to a cancer center. "This can't be it, it is a cancer center. This can't be it." But, it was where I was supposed to go. The shock of it all sunk in quite quickly. Looking around, soaking in the place I could call my future home, looking at the people who could become my future clinical family was such a huge thing to take in at once.
They handed me a huge pile of papers to fill out... Full name... Birth date... Address... Allergies... Religion... "Religion? Why do they need to know my religion?" The nurse told me it was for support groups. That made everything hit me. This is real. Real. It is happening to me, not a friend, not a family member, not someone I know distantly.
I am ready, however. After sitting in the waiting room for 45 minutes and walking back and forth from the blood lab to the C-Scan room I realized that I am doing what needs to be done. If something is wrong we are going to catch it. I am not sitting in my room and thinking that these bruises and the swelling is nothing of great importance; I am at a doctors office hoping to figure things out.
Thinking about what I could have is not going to change anything. I have what I have, or I don't have what I don't have and there is nothing I can do about it while I wait for the results. "Why am I so calm about it?" I honestly do not know. "How am I so calm about it?" Again, I honestly do not know. Something hit me in the waiting room. Maybe it was the old man sitting next to me telling his wife he didn't bring her purse out of the lab because he is a man and doesn't carry a purse, maybe it was the old woman who had 'Louis Louis' as her ring tone, I don't know. But, something hit me and made me realize that I am working on it.
The past couple of months have been a series of appointments here and there and I am working on it. I am not hiding from it anymore; I am not hiding from anything. Well, I am trying not to hide from anything. I am going to take the news as it comes.
I am, honestly, okay with what is going on. Some people may not understand how I am not insanely worried or even freaking out about all of this, but somehow there is a sense of serenity here.
In a place where comfort is not always found, I found it. Who knows how... but it is here and I am going to hold onto in as long as I can.
I am in a good place, a better place... for now.

the cross on the side of the road

Maybe only I can see it. Honestly, here, I am the only one who can see it. I may know it’s there, but its existence is not in full, yet. Being away from home for eight months of the year can, somehow, separate home from school. Two worlds do not really exist, but that is how it seems sometimes, especially when something like this happens.

It happened. He is gone. But, it does not seem real. Not because I do not want to accept it, but because being here, away from the place we both called home, no one knows his name. No one here knows his past, his family, his friends, and his insane ability to turn your worst day into your best. I don’t expect them to. It would just be nice to be able to grieve openly and with people who are grieving as well.

Home will be interesting. His face wont be at regular gatherings, his laughter wont surround our conversations, and his arms will no longer embrace me as I tell my ‘older brother’ that I need a hug.

I do not want to live in this grief and fear--not knowing of what will happen to me when I go home, but in order to fully accept what happened I need to travel north.

This cross I see every day follows me whether others can see it or not. What are we supposed to do when home and school become two different worlds?