Life of Pride
It is time for me to describe my brother's wedding. As always, when I start to communicate anything, I feel my own inadequacy. I could write a book or at least a novelette about the last week, describing people and interactions and why I reacted the way I did to events. But I will write what I can, knowing how little I will actually say.
During these last five years, my oldest brother, Joe, began to get serious about Naomi Bisagno, a shy half-Asian girl from California who is obsessed with horses and has a unique sense of humor. He had met her online when he was 15, in an IRC (Internet Relay Chat) chat room called #teens4jesus on DAL-net, for which he was a sysop (system operator). The first thing the rest of us knew about this was when Joe called my mom and announced he was spending his spring break with Naomi in California. Naturally, we were all a bit worried, and were more than a bit taken aback. Magda and I weren't too shocked, because we'd seen them flirting on IRC for years. Still, I was a little wary.
The first time I met Naomi was spring break of sophomore year, in which I spent the entire time down in my "cave" (basement study area) reading seven books about Incas and memorizing hundreds of dates for Dr. Vanderpoel's Western World II class. I was resentful at Naomi for taking away my favorite brother, since I never got to talk to either him or Naomi seriously. They were always giggling together.
Last summer, Joe had finished his third year at the USCGA, and Naomi had done some struggling of her own at junior college in CA, trying to get into UCA. They were both a little more sober, a little easier to talk to. We made a road trip to KY for a model horse festival (see last summer in this blog), and we had some good conversations about God and life. I began to see Naomi as a vulnerable person, much more shy than myself, who was scared of my mother and generally still unsure about life. I also saw that my brother was growing up...
...and that's all I have time to write right now. I may add more tomorrow. I may not. As for now, I need to go work for an hour or so proofreading my grandfather's translation of an Italian philosopher. Sayonara, muchachos.
Well, my brother got married, and it was beautiful. I will post more details later, because we are about to start driving to the airport in San Francisco in a few minutes. Later today we will be back in MO, and then I will have more time. (I will probably forget completely about my blog at that point, but whatever. The
current plan is that I will post a description of the wedding's interesting points.)
I'm a moody person inside. You wouldn't think it when you meet me. I seem happy and talkative, always with the witty comment. But inside, down deep, many emotions turn over and over. I care about many things very intensely.
The trouble is, I can't talk about whatever I care about intensely. Usually it has taken a long and complicated thought process to make me care intensely. I know my speaking limitations. When I try to communicate anything long and complicated with my spoken voice, I lose people. That's why I have to write. When I write, I can look at an entire thought at once. I can mold it once I have created it all, and I can re-order parts that don't yet make sense. When I'm speaking, I have to get it right the first time.
The deep thought I was thinking yesterday was this: God made me intelligent, and He woke me up and called me to Him. Also, He made me very stubborn, and a hard worker. I've thought for a long time that He wants me to do something great with my life. I mean, Great with a capital G. Something big. Like, somehow my life will influence many others, not just my immediate circle. But how? What? Why me, a woman?
Lately, I've begun not to trust my feelings in general. I've been absolutely convinced before about things that weren't true. Still, this seems different. I'm not the
same as most people. Everything, all my childhood, all my experience, all my abilities - they point me to leadership. And yet, still I am a woman. I find I am much happier and more effective as a second-in-command, backing the person I believe strongly is best.
So what I think is this: I don't yet have my personal leader. Until I do, it is all right for me to operate as a first-in-command on occasion, if I am needed. In short, I don't submit to every man. I may give a man my respect, but I do not owe it to him because he is a man. He has to earn it. It is the same with my brothers by blood. I will love them and care for them, but if they want my respect, they have to earn it.
This is obviously an issue I've had to settle fairly recently, since I ran for student body president at college. :) Of course I wasn't gonna win. I wanted to talk about unity in Christ, and vision for His kingdom, that is all. Still, it seems some people turned off their ears because I am a woman. That is the true tragedy. Nevertheless, I am at peace, because I prayed all along for God to use my words the way He wanted. That way, I
know they were not wasted.
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Wedding news: We decorated hundreds of little party favors yesterday. They needed meticulous work, because Mrs. Bisagno had us wrap these little candy holders in a piece of tulle, fasten the tulle with three little decorations, and then tie two ribbons around each one. It took five of us five hours of work to do them all. They are very pretty, at least.
Today Magda is putting the wedding cake together and decorating it. Her butter frosting is very tasty. She learned to make it in cake decorating classes back in MO. I admire her talent, though for some reason she is very defensive around me. I think she wants to prove that she has abilities in an area that I have not learned. I suppose it is natural, since I am her older sister and have always done much better in scholastics than she has. So I am leaving her alone.
There's not much for me to do. The guys are off getting fitted for their tuxedos; Naomi's watching a DVD; Magda's decorating. So I'm reading people's blogs and posting in my own. It's nice to have a break in order to put a few words together. This family isn't very literary, so people have been watching TV or movies nonstop. They have a TV in both their family room and their living room, and there's nowhere else to go if the TV is running. I feel like I haven't read a book in forever, even though it's less than a week. I can't wait until all this fuss is over and I can write more
Erthe. I should have posted what I had on my
website, and then I could have added to it over the week. That is a thought for next time I travel. :)
All right; the noisy people are back. Time to see what's up.
Look people! I turned comments on!
Hello from north California. Not quite La La Land, but the people here are still pretty glossy. Or weird. I've met some strange people over the last few days. I am definitely enjoying myself, however. Magda (sister, age 20) is making the wedding cake, and she was baking cake layers all day long. I hemmed my bridesmaid dress in the morning, and then I tried to read. While trying to read, I fell asleep in the sun for 3.5 hours and gave myself a slight sunburn. So I guess I do burn after all - I just have to work at it. :P It's still not too bad, but the funniest part is where my little necklace left a white patterned spot in the middle of the pink neckline burn. I changed to a tshirt with a higher neck, and I hope the burn fades by the wedding. :D That could make for an interesting effect.
Altogether, Magda and I spent a while talking to Mrs. Bisagno, Naomi's mom. I like her a lot. She's a short, tiny Japanese lady, very down to earth, very practical. She's planned this entire wedding, and she's stressing herself out. We're trying to make her life easier.
Frankly, after Magda, Greg, and I arrived around 2pm yesterday from our 2.5-day drive, I was somewhat dispirited. Everyone was talking around me and had something to do, plus I tend to get a little bit paranoid when I'm tired. I felt funny, because I hadn't figured out where I fit into all the preparations. A good night's sleep and some private time with God made all the difference. This week is not
my week after all. It's Naomi's.
So. In less than a week, with a few days' break in the middle, I traversed the entire continent by vehicle. For the first time, I saw the country west of Missouri. This is true. I had traveled east plenty of times, but not west, except for twice by airplane to southern Nevada. It's much different by vehicle. You see how the land changes from flat cornfields to flat desert to the Rocky Mountains to salt flats to miles of more desert pockmarked with scruffy bushes and occasionaly broken by more mountains and rocky bluffs. Then you get to California, and suddenly people drive as if they're possessed. They swerve into tiny openings in the next lane on the highway, causing you to brake heavily. They hover in the left lane, refuse to move if you crowd them, and force you to pass on the right.
Areas have driving personalities. I noticed this more than ever on this trip. In some areas, people are sensible and laid back. They drive over the speed limit, but not too much over, and they stay in the right lane unless they need to pass. Then in others, people have lost their minds. They act as though they
want to get in an accident. I have to wonder how that happens. Do people imitate even the driving styles of everyone around them?
I know that I felt myself changing styles as I went through the different states. I can cope with aggressive driving, because I grew up in the St. Louis area. I definitely prefer laid back, however. The interesting part is that, in a heavily urban area, laid back driving is not an option. You become a more aggressive driver to survive. I'm sure there are parallels for regular life in there somewhere...
Well, I should end this post. I will post more about the wedding later, but right now I have to go read everyone
else's blogs. :)
I lead a surreal existence, y'know? As of about 2pm today, I am in Santa Rosa, CA. I spent Sun-Tue driving from Missouri to here. This means that, in slightly less than a week, I traversed almost the entire continent by car. So now I am using Naomi Bisagno's family's computer to post to my blog. In only a few days, she will be Naomi Pride. I'm not sure what I think of the whole thing. That is, I think it's very cool, but I haven't quite got a handle on what it will mean. All right, you say, duh, you will have a new sister-in-law. Your brother will be married. Yes. But these things have never happened before. This is new. :)
The road trip was draining, but much more entertaining than it could have been. My brother and sister and I caravanned (sp? Is that a word?) with one of my friends from PHC, Will Glaser, until he split off in the middle of Salt Lake City and headed on up to Oregon. So it wasn't just driving, driving, driving. Well, it was. But we got to consult throughout the trip, and I managed not to lose my temper with my siblings.
Well, I'm tired right now, and it's time for dinner. I might post more later, but I haven't settled into this new social setting yet. I'm still watchful, trying to figure it out...
Heigh ho, what a difference between this summer and last! This summer I feel utterly at peace. I move more slowly, help my family out, and retire to my "cave" (basement study) to write. As for the latter, in the last two days I have outlined my book and written four single-spaced pages of it! Yes, life is happy, and I know to whom I owe it. God is the master of my life. I am continuing to put Him first, and He is continuing to bless me.
Tomorrow I start to drive with Magda and Greg to California, for Joe's wedding. It is quite convoluted, how we come to be doing this. Naomi, Joe's fiancee, was working up in Maine so that she and Joe (the USCGA is in Connecticut) could spend time together. She took Joe's car and drove it to MO, then flew back to CT with my dad for Joe's graduation. Dad flew back here; Joe and Naomi flew to California. This left Joe's car at our house. So we three siblings are going to bring the car to Cali. We will fly back to MO after the wedding.
This is especially exciting for me, because I've never been on the west coast. And to make things even odder, one of my friends from school, Will Glaser, is passing through on his way to Oregon from North Carolina (where he was teaching a TeenPact class), and he is stopping at our house overnight. So he will be driving on toward the west coast tomorrow in his big Suburban as well. Strange coincidence, eh?
I could write about so many things. Fun family anecdotes would probably be best. I still, for example, haven't gotten much of anything clean around here. It feels like the "fog of war" in some computer games... I travel in my little zone of cleanliness, but anywhere outside my immediate range instantly becomes dirty again. It is a fascinating phenomenon, one I never noticed myself a few years ago when I, too, was blind to dirt.
Ooh! Or I could mention that I bought myself some summery clothes at Wal-Mart today. Funfun! Our Wal-Mart here in MO has a much better selection than the one in Leesburg, near school. That
is one thing I appreciate about Missouri, despite its lack of hiking opportunities - we have better clothes available for much less money. I would have shopped at my favorite outlet as well, since it is having a 70% off Memorial Day sale, but I don't have
that much money. Wal-Mart will have to do for now.
My summer itinerary is lining up. At the end of June, I fly to Princeton for a week-long
Intercollegiate Studies Institute seminar. We are discussing four books on conservativism and libertarianism, including Whittaker Chambers's
Witness. I just received the books yesterday, and I am looking forward to reading them. Then, late July, my family will quite possibly be driving to the International Jugglers' Association's yearly convention in Iowa. I cannot describe the fun of these conventions adequately. All the top performers in the juggling world attend this convention. It is where you find out and are reminded who is who. Further, you attend many free workshops, or just walk around the huge gym to watch the amazing skills of the people practicing. For me, since I am an adequate juggler, these conventions are the highlight of my year. I haven't gone the past two years, because of college, so this opportunity is especially grand. Other than those two occasions, I will, of course, be doing my normal long list of activities. I won't be bored; I know that.
I was just thinking, perhaps the strangest part of my first week of summer is that for once I feel together. I'm not split between college and home. I'm all one person, united. I'm not sure why that is, since I've gone through withdrawal so many times before. Perhaps it is because I own a car now, and I know college is just a place that I can leave and come back to. It's not my entire life, even when I'm there. I think this is a healthy knowledge.
OK, time to stop for now. I've written enough. Plus, I'm packing and baking cookies for tomorrow's trip. I ought to get back to it. Will should be here any time...
Heroes shouldn't die. It is far too sad when they do. No, heroes were made to keep on saving everyone else's lives. They shouldn't die.
I think that's why I cried when I watched Star Wars Episode III this afternoon. I sat by myself surrounded by strangers in the middle of a movie theater, and I wept my eyes out. If you're not a Star Wars fan, you wouldn't understand. If you are, watch the movie. George Lucas finally got something right in his new "old" trilogy.
I wept because the Jedi died. They had to die; they were all murdered by the Emperor before Episode IV, the first of the original trilogy. But they were doing their best, working to save people. They didn't expect it. They didn't deserve death. Why do such things happen? It broke my heart.
I don't think I was crying for the Jedi. You never cry for the actual characters when you watch a movie. The sadness strikes you because the movie hit an open nerve of real life. In real life, heroes are murdered. In real life, heroes expect to die. They enter into what they have to do, fully understanding that death ought rationally to await. That's what makes them heroes. And that's why their deaths are so sad, because the fact that they tried to do the impossible solely because it was
right ought to guarantee them safe conduct.
When the World Trade Center collapsed on the firemen two days before my 18th birthday, I cried then too. I couldn't shed tears until the firemen died, but then I sobbed. They just wanted to save lives. People shouldn't die for saving lives.
We killed Jesus, the greatest hero of all, and the most innocent. How could we do that? How could I?
So. Summer is here. What now? I'm not quite sure. I've hardly caught my breath, since I only arrived home yesterday after a long drive. I woke at 9am today, unpacked, drove to the library to take out books by Annie Dillard, Dorothy Sayers, and G.K. Chesterton, and read. Also, I talked to my mother. Altogether, I feel as though the day has not been my most productive ever, and I'm already tired again at 8pm. This latter fact is especially bewildering to me, since I slept for twelve hours last night. I must be tired.
As usual, my family's house was a disaster when I arrived. Everywhere I look, the more mess I find. When I indignantly ask one of the scruffy urchins who call themselves my siblings how such filth came to be on the kitchen counter, he or she replies, "Oh, that's Madeleine's/Gregory's/Lillian's chores. (S)he must not have done them last night." Indeed, and everyone else has walked by last night's cookie-making remains for an entire day. Why? "Oh, Mercy didn't clean the dishes last night either, so there wasn't room in the sink."
*frown*
This is what happens when the eldest female child in a large household departs for several months. Chaos ensues.
I try to explain to my youngest sisters, ages 11 and 13, why the upstairs kids' bathroom was a problem. "Well, see," I say, pointing to the tiny blue trash can next to the toilet, "it's overflowing. Don't you think someone should empty it?"
"That's Gregory's chores," they quickly supply.
"Yes, well..." I pause. There's too much. I don't know where to start. "Look at the soap scum flowing down from the soap tray in the bathtub."
My oldest brother, Ted, takes a break from his computer playing next door to interject. "It's just soap! It's clean, right? What could be cleaner than soap?" Maddy and Lillie giggle, and I shoot a poisonous glare through the wall.
"
I think it probably has dirt mixed with it." I falter, and then find my rhythm again. "But that's beside the point. Take a look at all this!" (gesturing to the towels on the floor, the hair behind the toilet, and ring in the bathtub) "It has obviously not been scoured for weeks!"
"But we cleaned it just for you, so it would be nice when you arrived," whispers Lillie. Her lower lip begins to wobble.
I eye her small face with a practiced gaze. She seems sincere. The problem on my hands is larger than I thought - they don't even
see the filth! I dispatch my 20-year-old sister, Magda, to Walgreens for scrub brushes, Bon Ami, and elbow-length, yellow rubber gloves. Time to teach these munchkins how to clean!
This is what happens when one's mother spends all her time selling advertising for a homeschool magazine and grading kids' workbooks. Little things like cleaning tend to slip. We'll see what I can do.
