harvest party

Home is an important thing to me. Home used to be a house to me, a place I slept, lived in and ate at. However, I've realized that home has become more of a feeling. I feel at home walking through Biola and driving through the canyon near my house or eating french toast on a Saturday morning.

October is a month that feels like home to me. I love the crisp Fall air, that unfortunately is still developing in California, and the leaves that start to fall to the ground and especially the anticipation of holidays. Two weeks ago, my house hosted our second annual Harvest Party. We invited friends to come and bring some of their "harvest" and we provided yummy cornbread, chili, and Amish friendship bread. Here are some photos of the event and the house. ( I didn't take too many. Megan took the role of photographer for the night.) It felt a bit like home to have everyone dressed warm and lots of friends in one place on a Fall evening.

Welcome to our house!

The Dining Room.

The Front Room (my favorite.)

Yummy Food

Lindsay, Megan and Court finishing up before everyone showed up.

A few of the first people there.

Kyle and Rachelle stopped by for a bit. :)

ps. sorry the photos are so small!

oh, to be Alice

I woke up to a purple door on the left bordered by pastel green paint and a pale blue door on the right bordered by a shade of cream. Which door do I pick? The red pill or the blue pill. In this case, I was either to be led into a closet or a living area, so it didn't matter much.

A few weekends ago (more like a month ago) I visited a good friend from high school who lives in this adorable house in Santa Barbara. She actually lives on the second floor that has been converted into an apartment. I couldn't get over it the entire weekend. I kept walking through the apartment marveling at the different pastel colored walls, mismatching doors, glass and brass door knobs...it was all quite charming and a bit like Alice in Wonderland if you ask me.

Oh, would I give to wake up in a house like this. Not that I'm not blessed as is. :)

phone home

The first two weeks of college, I disappeared to the outside world. That is, the world outside of Biola. My little universe had launched itself into an entire new galaxy of orientation events, late nights, meeting approximately 50 people every day and classes that lasted three hours sometimes.

After about two weeks, my phone rang and the not-so-little three letter word MOM showed up on my cell phone's screen. Oops...! I hadn't called my mom in two weeks, the person who raised me and had lived with since my parents brought me home from the hospital. I answered the phone to a somewhat disgruntled mother, which is never fun, but to this day, I commend her. The fact that she held out for two weeks is more respectful of me than I ever thought was possible. I know she most likely wanted to call the day after she dropped me off to hear about every minute of my night and my plans for the next week, but she waited. And waited. And waited.

Unfortunately, I never called, not because I didn't love her or respect her, but my little universe had expanded and was still adjusting to the multitude of little stars in my eyes. She accepted my apology after a few minutes, and then I delved into my life at the time and everything that had happened in the two weeks time.

I left home that Fall of 04 not expecting much. I knew college would be "exciting and fun," but I had no idea what it was really going to be like. I was actually fairly naive about the whole thing. Those first few weeks were a good sign that I had been thrown into an entire new place of learning and activity. My eyes were opened and I realized I could be who I wanted to be, I had a fresh start from high school but with the knowledge of a high school graduate.

The past few weeks I have been writing a series of features on four new freshman students titled The Journey. Each of them remind me a little of myself those first few weeks - overwhelmed, eager, young and inspired. God is so present at Biola and it is so evident in new freshman. Their eyes are opened and they are thrown into a new universe full of stars and new places to explore that they didn't know existed.

Though I do regret not calling my mom those few weeks, I am grateful she let me live in my new little universe for a while and then brought me back home when I needed to be. Eventually, the two universes collided and I could live in my new universe and call her multiple times per week.

writing a wave

I've found writing to be an emotional thing for me. I think it is like that with a lot of writers. If they don't feel a certain way, it is difficult to write. 

My emotional tie may root to my initial desire to write poetry along with the ups and downs of my life in junior high, which developed into a love for creative writing and then journalism in high school. Time is also sincerely involved. I am not a hasty writer. I take time to sit and drink in thoughts and then pour them out hoping the two resemble each other. 

So, as much as I would like to pass off my neglect for this blog in the past month on me being busy, the truth is I didn't feel like posting anything nor did I really have time to sit and drink. I know — horrible for me to have broken the number one rule of blogging. (Taken from the Official Guide for Blogging 101; Rule One: Blog frequently or else lose your readers.)  

Writing comes in waves and every once in a while they slow and then another set will come in. Thankfully, the dead waters are alive again and I brought myself to write a post (even if it is about my lack of posting.)  

Therefore, expect quite a few more since all waves come in sets.