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I found this wonderful music maker on-line. Great for procrastination and fun times! Check it out here.

The Temptation of Fragmentation: A History of Humanity

Two findings inspired this painting:
My friend Alicia and I were walking along the back-alley of The House in Kensington, and found a wooden door. This finding inspired me to take the door home and make art out of it.
Regularly I purchase Vogue, and in it was an ad for Dolce and Gabbana. The ad included the beautiful faces of: Claudia Schiffer, and Naomi Campbell. You can see the original here.
When I painted this picture several thoughts were being tossed around in my head, and through the outworking of this art I portray three things: the possibility in temptation, a revision of history's view of marriage and singleness, and the possibility of purity.
First, in some circles women are often depicted as being the tempters, but in here I represent both genders. The male (green figure) represents the knowledge of tempting. The female (yellow figure) is unaware of her tempting others.
Secondly, the couple in the middle represent several implications: that married or single life is not better than the other, and committed relationships also include the value of other friendships. In most paintings of couples, they tend to be the central focus. Society often represents happy people in romantic relationships, and shuns the single life unless it is full of uncommitted sexual relationships. In the painting, the couple does not look in the same direction, signifying that being in a committed relationship is not the finish line to sexual temptation.
Thirdly, I also portray the purple figure as being pure. I do not intend to translate that women are more pure, but that as a person not in a covenant relationship she represents honor and self-control as such. I intended to paint her as a predominate figure, that singleness and purity are possible. Her figure is skewed in proportions to represent the fallenness of humanity, but her eyes are fixed on something further ahead of her. Though humanity (the yellow and blue figure) attempt to tempt her, she keeps her eyes focused.
Most likely you may also find other implications in this painting, or none at all, but I hope you may find what I have said or painted as food-for-thought.

summer diaries.

I feel an aching regret and guilt in decisions. The guilt will not desist from existing, but I remain hopeful that if I pull myself together for another attempt I may be able to reach the end of the limitless assignments.
Pity party invitations had gone out and it was limited to one; as everyone would have declined I decided not to put out optimistic ambitions. Nevertheless I have worked my way into one day off a week, and punished every moment of free time with either the arrogance that I will "take the day off" or this continuous seltzer-needed stress.
I can see the age lines cross my face. I can see the summer ending and realizing it never began for having not actually left the classroom. I am working towards the end of these papers. I write each one with a check mark that I have completed another essay. I would rather be afloat in Greece, reading Hemingway, listening to friends laugh, and drinking a bottle of Merlot. Perhaps I will not need what I studied when I drift on the ocean, or maybe I will enjoy the boat ride more in light of the former.
I desire more travel, time to learn a new language, and time to regret nothing. Even a night off from textbooks.

time to rethink, time to rebuild, time to redeem

Perhaps it was that my roommate woke me at 5 am this morning, or that I ate an entire bag of licorice and I was rethinking that marvelously thought-out-choice. Or perhaps my soul needed to be awoken and my body had no choice. It was something a friend said over lunch,

"When you came back from Sweden you were really quiet and more calm, but now you've kind of settled back in and are the crazy Eleah again."

I was certain he meant it for good, but my heart keeps reiterating the words. I keep wondering about the steps I took to get here, and I am disheartened. Has the time studying at university been so time consuming that I have neglected the reason I went in the first place? One professor is certain we all need a masters before entering the mission field, but I am not sure I agree. Sure, more training so we don't all go out and make idiots of ourselves and end up failing unnecessarily. But what about going. I know if I had waited until I knew what I was doing I would have never gone to Sweden.

We make mistakes while in missions, it's a given. But should we let our fear of mistakes drive us or rather a character in Christ? This is something that I am convicted about. Character. Many times I look at my life and wonder why I let it be so boring. It is boring when we fill it with things that don't measure up to the life God calls us to. Walking with God should not be boring. It is passionate, it is moving, and it is an adventure.

I spend so much time wondering what I think my theology is that I don't go out and do theology. Because if it isn't changing you to be more like Christ than it is Pharisee life, and that is boring. We need to be not only hearers of the word but doers of it (James 1.22-25). Embracing what God is doing in us (Rom. 8).

But this is not wasted time to have failed. It would be to do nothing about it from here. Does anyone else feel this way?

The Great Escape

Everything in me wants to run away. The same conversations everyday, the anger, the angst, frustrations and lack of solution to anything changing. I am praying constantly for change and it feels in vain. You could very well hermeneutically argue me out of this position. Anyone can argue but can they change you or the circumstances.
I want to run to Barcelona. Get on a train. Listen to the languages. I want to sit with my friends from Sweden and listen one more time to good music.
Maybe this is why I keep wanting to leave the library. I feel stuck between the bookshelves and someone is sliding the shelves closer towards my body and I will be crushed between the paperbacks and reference dictionaries. If it is between any good literary novels by the likes of F. Scott Fitzgerald do not resuscitate.
I want to relive my arrival in Barcelona last February at this time. I lingerly walked to the docks of the ocean. A panhandler played Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" and the sun was high. I thought about nothing, but took in the scene. The smells of fish, the sound of the guitar and conversations in Spanish, the warmth of the sun on my face.
Perhaps I need to enjoy life more rather than enclosing myself between pages in the library. So we've made a plan. A great escape. A change of scenery if you please!