This is it.

I recently found this little gem when I was making an art book for a friend. (Sadly, I don't remember where it's from.)

Life?
Sometimes it moves quick.
So react. Now.
Now is for living.
Just live.
Get out into the thick of it.
Roll down your windows.
Listen to it.
Make some noise. Be part of it.
Put your hands in it - Deep.
Break it open. Drink it up.
Run with it until your legs give up and you can't move or breathe or shout.
Chase it down a city street.
Swim in it.
Race it to the edges of the earth. Let it win.
Make it happen.
Give it away.
(This is it.)

Bacon and domesticity.

We crafted all afternoon, my little sisters and I. We drew, we colored, we made collages. I like taking songs or poems or phrases and turning them into something visual - something colorful. I cut triangles out of a hundred different colors of paper in magazines and newspapers and pasted them together to make an exotic bird sporting a condescending expression. I learned today that I enjoy making pointless art. I like making art that exists for no reason but to be itself. I read today that animals howl to declare their existence. That's what my art does, I think.

All afternoon I made art that howls. Paper birds declaring their existence.

We only took one break, to make BLTs. Wheat toast, sliced tomatoes, fresh lettuce, and bacon. I like BLTs because they're bacon disguised as sandwiches. If we just sat around making art and eating bacon, my mom would probably protest. But if we're sitting around making art and eating BLTs, my mom can say "Oh, I'm glad you got some lunch. Isn't that lettuce great?"

I sat there planning out my paper bird and eating my incognito sandwich and thought: "Huh, there is so much grace in this afternoon." And there was. One of my favorite Hillsdale professors, Dr. Schlueter, said in a stand-alone lecture that domesticity is grace manifested in daily living. Chores. Slow afternoons. Paper art. And bacon sandwiches.

Now I think that I will go make myself another mug of hot chocolate with nutmeg and cinnamon. And maybe make a paper elephant.

Songbird.

We’re walking on a thin string
But I know the Lord's got the whole thing in his hands
We’re strangers in this land
But together we could make our way home
Make our way home

.:Josh Garrels:.

Bon Iver and La Blogotheque.

I've been exploring La Blogothque (blogotheque.com), a collection of take-away shows with some very unique musical artists. I like musicians who never play a song the same way twice. On this site there's a video of Bon Iver playing "Lump Sum" on a toy piano and melodica in an empty apartment in Paris. Life doesn't get any better than that. Or this: "Do you like Bon Iver?" is my primary question to a determine whether or not a person and I are soul mates. I would marry a man with the emotional maturity of Justin Vernon. One day in the spring of my junior year my sister brought me home his album: For Emma Forever Ago by Bon Iver. In my opinion, For Emma is the greatest album of all time. Of all time. Some artists slap together a dozen singles and call it an album when it's really just a means to a paycheck and an excuse for a photoshoot. Harsh, yes, but true. Bon Iver, on the other hand, was just a lucky mistake. Justin Vernon got dumped and escaped to a farmhouse in Wisconsin. He came back with this album. It's perfect because it's one man singing out loud about his brokenness. I'm going on 2 years with this album, and we're going strong. If you haven't heard it yet, do it. If you haven't learned to love it yet, get going. (And check out the EP: "Blood Bank." And the singles: "Winsconsin" and "Roslyn.")

I ache to see Bon Iver in concert.

Portland, Michelle Ramin, Beat Kitchen, Manifest.

The more time I spend on my tiny college campus, the more obsessed I become with big cities. I dream about public transportation. I talk about light pollution in Chicago as though it's a friend of mine. I. love. cities.

Lately I've been particularly excited about Portland, Oregon and the talented artists who live there. I've never actually been there, but I have a little collection of maps and things from Portland that my dad brings back for me when he visits. One of my current favorite Portland artists is Michelle Ramin (www.michelleramin.com). I love her art. Art like this: More about art&cities:
Beat Kitchen (www.beatkitchen.com) is my favorite music venue in Chicago. It's classy, it's affordable, it's eclectic, it has delicious portabella mushroom sandwiches, and it does a stellar job showcasing native bands. I'm going to a show in January and I.can't.wait.

Oh! One more thing. Manifest, a sweet urban arts festival that Columbia College students create, has announced its designer for 2010: Landry Miller. Is it condescending to say his art is "cute"? Because it is: Hopefully I'll get back in time from my friend's wedding to see what else Miller comes up with!

Lessons from my 1st semester.

-pray without ceasing.
-use saturdays wisely.
-organize & condense notes from the very beginning of the semester.
-nothing in the dessert corner of SAGA is worth the calories. promise.
-work out regularly.
-never drink 9 cups of coffee in one sitting.
-call your mom.
-admit it when you’re stressed.
-3AM discussions about grace are always worth the lack of sleep.
-seek community even at your rawest, guiltiest, sleepiest, & least sure of yourself.
-don’t lose sleep over anything that’s outside your responsibility.
-trust that God is working out the details of your redemption.
-look for grace.
-live in a way that others see it too.

Give thanks for the common things that glow with an uncommon grace.

Life continues to be: White paper stars and star-shaped Christmas cookies that make up for the starless polluted skies of Chicago. Piles of half-folded blankets scattered around my house (cuddle kiosks!). Five sheets of paper on my desk entitled 'CRAFT IDEAS' I, II, III, IV, and V. The sweet, sweet sound of Seth Avett playing banjo. Marathon conversations with Roshini over coffee and hot chocolate. Snuggling with my golden retriever puppy.

In other news, is it possible to already miss friends from college? Because I already miss Mary, Shannon, Bond, Eric, Travis, Jack, and Ben and my roommate. I miss late-night talks in Upper Left, and long sessions of hand-holding and prayer, and laughing constantly. I am so blessed by my friends at school. I'm especially blessed by the presence of these dearest eight.

I've been obsessed to the point of distraction with expressing all this grace given to me in as many ways as I possibly can. I make art, I make music, I write, I talk (a lot), I pray, but I still get the itchy feeling that I'm not expressing enough. When and only when I get to the point where even my heartbeat tells the story of the Gospel will I be satisfied.