:: Tuesday, October 29, 2002 ::

"They think I make a big deal about nothing..." (Ani Difranco)

I'm sorry I haven't written much of substance in a while... Many conversations with many friends over the last few days have prompted many thoughts. The topic of today's post is me, since this is my blog, and I figure I can write about myself if I so desire.
I am a Christian. However, as Burns says, I wish I didn't have the label. I'd rather not be associated with any group. I am a Christian, but I don't agree with most "believers." A majority of those I've known get so caught up in unimportant issues that they completely miss what really matters. Sometimes they seem to think that true spirituality is their suits and ties, their Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights, their tracts, their choir robes, their Christianese, their informed "right" to judge, their 5-point sermons, their superiority to punk-rock teenagers and bums off the street..... I know I am being stereotypical, but stereotypes are born from truth.
I believe that life is short and meant to be lived fully. I believe that there is no need to have the future figured out as long as the one in charge is a God who loves adventure. I believe that freedom is a realization. I believe that people can disagree without judging. I believe that humor is essential, and laughter is highly underrated. I believe that intent matters far beyond outcome. I believe that one can never think too much, and that God gave us logical capacity for a reason. I believe that actions speak, yell, holler, and whisper much, much louder than words. I believe that each person has value too high to be calculated (even imperfect chapel speakers). Above all, I believe in love (thanks, "Moulin Rouge").
I can't guarantee that any person will ever know exactly who I am, and "any person" includes me. My brain never shuts off, and I have a hundred different hues and shades every day. I don't want to imagine where I'd be without God's love -- it is less like a crutch to fall back on and more like a spaceship with unknown and fantastic destinations. I am easy to explain but hard to understand (isn't everyone?). If you and I have ever spoken, you have probably influenced these thoughts... and many thanks... But don't analyze too much, because really, in the end, I'm just me.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 3:02 PM :: + ::

"If all the worlds were scattered..." (Jennifer Knapp)

So yeah, I lied in my last post. I am actually going to bed now for the first time in 65 hours.... To quote la profesora, "Oof!"

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:: Bethany Bassett - 12:24 AM :: + ::

"Because I'm not tired, I'm not tired..." (Ben Folds Five)

Did you know that blue eyes turn gray from lack of sleep?
Mascara application becomes rocket-science,
Angles and shadows begin to spin,
Balance becomes a thing of the past,
Stealing away logic and goodwill to men.
All-nighter.
20-ish Owlet papers.
Homework for the week.
Church.
Bed, now.
G'night.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 1:58 PM :: + ::

"I wonder which part of this will leave the scar..." (OTR)

A girlfriend and I have talked a lot lately about the irrepressible desire women have to communicate, to connect. Eye contact and words and thoughts perceived and moments in time where undivided attention makes us queens... We thrive on affection, and sometimes the greatest display of affection is an hour or two of understanding.
What is the counterpart for guys? What do you long for in relationships? What would motivate you to pledge your life to another human being?

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:: Bethany Bassett - 2:09 PM :: + ::

"When am I gonna see?" (Coldplay)

"just once, i'd love to see you write something...ANYTHING....using no caps and poor grammar. step down from your pedistal of pristine vocabulary and perfect structure to wallow in the mud with those of us who....umm.....don't use words too good."

so today is, the day. after 6:30 pm i will! finally have a perfectly good reason to drop--out of school. namely by coercion after, i fail the psychology major field test. i am fairly: confident in my ability to fail with ease,
1) study? what?
2) i didn't take a single psychology class till my sophomore year putting me 12 months behind everyone else
3) my head does not seem to be attached as of late. so even if id id know all the material; i have very little? chance of being able to reproduce it
goodbye leto, urneau

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:: Bethany Bassett - 1:13 AM :: + ::

"Money, money, money..." - Part II

Step 1: Let your Bible fall open and choose the first verse you lay your eyes on:

Obadiah 17 - "But on Mount Zion there shall be deliverance, and there shall be holiness; the house of Jacob shall possess their possessions."

Step 2: Explain the context in a way that will sound good to the customers believers:

"Mount Zion" is a symbolic way of referring to your house, or possibly even your bank account. "Deliverance" in the original Greek, is another way of saying "holiness," and "holiness" translates to "an abundance of whatever you pray for." "The house of Jacob" is an alternate translation of "Mount Zion," and "possessions" is another word for "deliverance."

Step 3: Create a formula:

If you read this book 3 times a day for 30 days inside your closet facing the east, you will start to see amazing miracles happen to you and your family. Your children will do better in school! You will find money lying outside! You will discover possessions in your attic that you never knew you had!

Step 4: Package your new theology in a trendy booklet; create matching posters, bookbags, worship CD's, whatever; and hit the stores.

And if you call now with your generous donation, you too can enjoy this stylish "What Would Bethany Do?" bracelet!

Step 5: Sit back and watch your territory enlarging.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 6:49 PM :: + ::

"Money, money, money..." (N'Sync)

Chapel speaker this morning was from WTTB, here to educate us about "Secrets of the Vine." He was one of those too-charastmatic speakers; every single word was emphasized with a yell and a "Yes, I learned inflection at seminary" smile.
"Jesus! said! 'I! am! the! Vine!' Do? you? understand? how? sig! nif! i! cant! that? is?!"
In the first 5 minutes, I learned that John 15:1-5 holds the secrets to "abundance" (the ones not found in the Jabez Prayer, I assume). "These were never intended to be secrets, but you've made them secrets by reading too quickly to see what Jesus really intended!"
Oh, please enlighten us!
"You are the branches -- a little gnarly, but still alright! Fruit is the product of good works! Fruit is good works! You! can! do! good! works! which! result! in! fruit! You! have! to! do! fruit! However, you have chosen not to bear fruit by buying into the myth that you only have to abide! But no! You have to go! bear! fruit!
"Are you being an irresponsible branch? Come back tonight to hear the 4 levels of fruit as I unlock the secrets of the vine! I promise you'll walk out much more fruitful than when you came in!"
Maybe I was supposed to walk out fluttering my hands like a junior high cheerleader, screaming, "Omigod, like, I totally had NO idea! Thank you for unlocking the secrets of the vine for me! Do you think Bruce Wilkerson is single?"
I have actually learned one fool-proof plan for easy wealth through The Prayer of Jabez and Secrets of the Vine... Stay tuned for Part II.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 1:11 PM :: + ::

"Why should you care when I'm not there?" (Radiohead)

Oh yeah... I've already started listening to Christmas music. Whoever guesses my favorite Christmas song gets to choose my next blog topic.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 6:22 PM :: + ::

"How much to discover..." (Frank Sinatra)

I hadn't been to the mall in generations, so when I went today, I celebrated by spending too much on too little. But. Who could pass up corduroy khakis and a green hippie shirt and a killing leather(ish) jacket for under $70? Oh, and jewelry for Fall Fest too... being female is so exasperating sometimes. Maybe in heaven we won't have to accessorize.
I'm glad the 70's are coming back, but I wish they weren't creeping in with pseudo-vintage fad style. I wish... and I wish... and that too. Maybe Y2K didn't obliterate earth in a symphony of nuclear bombs and computer crashes, but it sure messed with fashion sense. The 70's are back... as are the 80's... and the 50's... and heck, why not throw in some Little House on the Prairie style? Or maybe we should take tips from the supermodels wearing tents and handkerchiefs? Or from the celebrities wearing nothing? Maybe we should all regress to fig leaves... but then American Eagle would create "designer" fig leaves and put them on sale for $49.99 (plus tax).
At least I know to keep all my old clothes for my children to wear when this fashion gumbo cycles through again.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 5:49 PM :: + ::

"Do you feel like a remnant?" (Nick Drake)

I knew it was ridiculously late even before I opened my eyes. Someone knocked on my door at 5:10 pm, I think. The footprints were still wet, coming from the yard, and for a moment, I was a sleuth who would unravel all the who's and why's. It's so late, with the minute-hand slipping by like friends, and nothing to define today except a dream about airplanes and wet footprints.
I sometimes wish I didn't keep my own secrets so well.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 3:35 AM :: + ::

"Break me down like the quiet part of a song..." (OTR)

Sometimes the weight of an entire day can be summed up in one song:

"Have you ever been haunted the way I’ve been by you?
And have you ever felt the measure of the days that I’ve spent waiting, pining for you?
I can’t see the sun for the daylight;
I can’t feel your breath for the wind.
I don’t want to step from these shadows
Till you’re comin back again.
I’ve dammed the emotions to keep my lanterns lit;
I’m shaken by this longing coursing through my veins.
In my mind I can’t make sense of it.
I get so used to these shadows;
Will you chase away these shadows when you come back again?"
~Jars of Clay

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:: Bethany Bassett - 9:49 AM :: + ::

"And I know that it's God's gift to breathe..." (India.Arie)

The first light every morning...
The smile over something untouchable, whispering around my lips...
The spark of energy that no heaviness of textbooks can snuff...
The wild, passionate beating inside of me, a different tune than any other...
The depth of a starry night...
The security and safety of a clear future...
Promises and realities of love, like beautiful wine overlowing the glass...
To some, He is God. To me, He is everything.
Apologies for the cliché.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 12:57 AM :: + ::

"I love the visions in your eyes..." (Over the Rhine)

Where do people acquire this pressing urge to state the obvious? "Bethany, your hair is RED!" -- from no less than every person I saw today. *Gasp* I had NO idea! I thought it was chartreuse!
Mocha-frosted lips, cinnamon hair, pumpkin-spice hopes... My room smells like candy apples, and I'm ready for Thanksgiving. The weather today whispered about t-shirt and flip-flops, but I went for something gray and cuddly instead.
I love the holidays, but I'm never quite sure why. The lingering excitement isn't over a break from classes, relative-visiting, presents, or even fond memories. Maybe it's the regularity -- the solid point around which time revolves. Maybe it's the comfort in lights and music and warm smells. Maybe it's borrowed excitement from the shopping-mall masses, trying in vain to exemplify Norman Rockwell paintings. Maybe it's the tingling-good prospects of making others happy, reminding them of all the cheer in life.
Maybe I'm going to stop analyzing, go watch the sky float by, and relish each drop of happiness.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 1:49 PM :: + ::

"Rollin thru ya party with the stereo blastin'..." (Thousand Foot Krutch)

Much sorries for the short posts. I'll write more when I'm 80 and have done everything on my List (including, but certainly not limited to learning bass guitar, writing a best-seller, joining a Harley gang, and finishing all my homework). However, I thought you might like to see the results of my deviance yesterday. I sometimes think I am a hundred different girls.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 7:12 PM :: + ::

"Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head..." (Coldplay)

Hours spent as a rational human being: 16
Hours spent critiquing: 8
Tuesdays are always so much more interesting than Mondays, and Wednesdays are definitely friendlier. Happiness for friends spills over into dark moments with too much thinking. I'm trying to remember if I have a propensity for scaring away those dearest to me, or vice versa. I shouldn't be allowed to think anymore.

P.S. - This morning (yesterday?), I was deviant again... this time on campus. Pictures yet to come.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 2:01 AM :: + ::

"Bad English gives me indigestion, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaagjlakjsdf;alcdsajkflh." (Querida)

Current mood: ::crying hard::
I have spent the last hour in a semi-hysterical state in an apartment of semi-hysterical girls. There has been much rolling on the floor, much laughing, much weeping, much gnashing of teeth, much that cannot be defined by human standards, much eating of antacids, and much undefinable wailing.
This is.....our job.
And you thought English wasn't fun?

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:: Bethany Bassett - 9:25 PM :: + ::

"And it's days like this that burn me..." (Bob Schneider)

She's French, speaks fluent Italian, is married to a German, and is apparently still learning English. She can't tell the difference between Querida and Catrina. She talks in class about lovers, incest, "sexy music," and all other things not approved by We The Administration. She is Isabel Seeger, our Spanish teacher.
After she flounces in the door 3 minutes late and makes us say, "¡Ooo, la profesora es muy tarde! ¡Es terrible!" and tells us that she forgot our quizzes again and asks where Braulio went to, that naughty boy, she faces us in her 5'1" idiosyncrasy and declares, "Aright crass, let's practrice our vocrabrary."
There is no way to describe the full dynamics of Elementary Spanish I with her. Even I, who had 4 years of high school Spanish, cannot comprendo.

Mrs. S: "Aright clase, ask me 'Do you wear miniskirts?'"
Class: "¿Lleva usted las minifaldas?"
Mrs. S: *Gasp of death* "Ohh, no, no, no! ::rattle of unintelligble Spanish with an unmistakably French accent:: Why do you ask me this? Tsk, tsk. Now correct your homework one thousand times. One million for you, Braulio. Everyone say, 'The professor is horrible.'"
Class: "La profesora es horrible."

Mrs. S: "You are so much more brillante than the other class. They did not even know what 'casanova' means! Now Cecilia, comó se dice, 'I have 100 men in my life?'"
Cecilia: "Tengo..."
Mrs. S: "Ooooh, Timoteo, now you must say, 'I do not have 100 women in my life?' ::laughs wickedly:: Timoteo, we must pick on you some more. Come here to the blackboard."

Mrs. S: "Oh, girls, here is a word you have to know. 'Beso' means 'kiss.' See? :: raises eyebrows provocatively:: Ach, why did you get me on this subject? Ayiyi."

Anyway, this was just to set the stage for a very bad experience on this very bad Monday. I was already in the shadowlands between crying and laughing when I got to español this afternoon. La profesora walked in today shrieking at a pitch higher than any operatic mortal should be able to hold, "Quieroquieroquieroquieroquieroquiero! Ayiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyi!" If I had been thinking rationally, I would have left immediately. I wasn't thinking rationally.
It was bad from the start. Catrina made the mistake of asking, "Why do you say 'a la semana' instead of 'de la semana'?" Mrs. S. responded in usual form, "Because, of course, we don't. No, of course, do we class?" before lapsing into unintellible Spanish muy rapido. Querida sat next to me with her tongue sticking out, reciting, "Tengo ganas de trabajaphmshkldhrsk," as most of the class channelled bufuddlement. As usual. Catrina started coughing very loudly (Mrs. Seeger probably called her "Querida" again), and I started to laugh. Catrina started to laugh. Timoteo started to laugh. Querida put her head down on the desk, shoulders heaving (I think she was laughing). The rest of the class started to laugh.
I looked up when Mrs. S. put a quiz down on my desk (the wrong one, incidentally). She was bristling. "You and Timoteo are imposible! Now go write the word for 'ice cream' on the board." I wrote "helado" in large letters and sat down, more inclined to cry, but wanting to laugh at the wonder of it all.
At this point, Mrs. S. was rattling off more Spanish, oblivious to the mute confusion on most people's faces and Querida's frequent, "¿Comó?" The chaos once again resulted in laughter, and a minute later, I heard, "You need to shape up, Betania. You are not behaving as you should today."
Argh. Why me? Why today? ¿Por qué, Dios?
I came home, threw a few objects, jumped until my calves hurt, and am now doing better. Marginally.
Mondays should be abolished.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 5:13 PM :: + ::

"Come out of things unsaid..." (Coldplay)

Everything comes back to porn. The end.
We are pots of boiling lust. The internet is the devil's playground (nevermind that our beloved school blocks everything down to DMB lyrics and "Amélie" reviews). It would be better to gouge out our eyes and cast them from us. We must take a stand against porn! Or maybe we should just go to chapel each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to hear Dr. Carl take a stand against our necessary addictions. Ay.
Today's sermon left me in a rather sarcastic mood. "Satan wants to keep us worms, but God wants to bring us out of our cocoons and make us fly. Don't stay in your cocoon of conformity; be transformed so you can soar! Don't conform; be transformed!" Like a kids-kamp mantra. It should be plastered on a t-shirt somewhere. It probably already is. Is it worth mentioning that worms do not often inhabit cocoons? As Q mentioned earlier, I'm beginning to miss Dr. Del and his "Skinny Dipping With God"... and almost even Bud Austin's "largest erection on campus" speeches.
I'm not bitter. I'm really, really not. But if we're going to be required to go to chapel this often, couldn't we at least get some high-quality speakers? Or just Oreon Trickey every day?

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:: Bethany Bassett - 12:57 PM :: + ::

"There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how..." (Oasis)

Thoughts from the This Side of the Door / Days on End reunion (The Kris Daily Show?) tonight in Speer:
Surreal and magnetic... soft green and peach shadows against the back wall of our dear, white chapel... one of the infrequent experiences I would term "pure ambiance"... soft, but heavy enough to stir subconscious longings... slipping into words and notes like fuzzy slippers...
Not much is better than live music.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 2:19 AM :: + ::

"And I can't recall myself, how I went down..." (Switchfoot)

Amy's post last Monday hints at the thoughts I'm stumbling over tonight.
I've grown up believing that my place is to wait, to be inactive and let myself be pursued, to guard my true feelings (an oxymoron?) under layers of stoicism. I must play hard-to-get. No man wants something he can grasp easily.
Except that one person must necessarily throw sentimental treasures on the line and risk tragedy or bliss. And it is more of a cop-out than anything to sit back and let the "him" sweat and struggle.
This is the new millennium, and I am a wuss. Yes, I am very open about most things, but honesty is often a game. I don't have the courage to say a few certain words, so I fill up the space with every other topic. I bare my soul in order to hide parts of it... trying to distract others from my fragility. Or maybe I do it for myself -- self-disclosure as pennance for words unsaid.
I know years of silent thoughts are setting me up for regret. The "what ifs" are always louder than logic... but not always as convincing. What if I closed my eyes, stopped thinking, and jumped? What if I chose to forget necessities like assurance? What if I took a chance and indulged the what-ifs? Would I kill one of the most beautiful gifts God has ever brought into my life?

"so fade to black and white now
roll the movie of my life
inside of my head
'cause like all true believers
I am truly skeptical
of all that I have said" ~otr

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:: Bethany Bassett - 10:26 PM :: + ::

"Here's another speech you wish I'd swallow..." (Fiona Apple)

Turn up the volume... pumping Blur through the earphones in hopes of stifling whatever gnawing discontent I've picked up... How is it possible for me to simultaneously feel like a sellout and like someone with nothing worth selling out? I need to feel beautiful... but who likes a girl whose wardrobe revolves around the little boys' section of Goodwill?
I feel so light, so airy and devoid of substance sometimes, even when my feet are exploring the textures of grass, earth, still-warm pavement. Maybe I am not real. Being me is living in a rich fragrance, sipping life drop by drop and always wondering at the multitude of tastes. I don't understand how other people can exist without marvelling at leaves and minds and air and smiles. Life is enchantment... and maybe I'm the only one who notices.
Next summer. *Sigh*
I miss Africa. It has settled into a deep, dormant place, waiting silently but with growing energy. Just after the month in Kwa-Zulu Natal (July 2001), I doubted the strength of the things awaking in me. However, this last year has only cemented my heartbeat for missions. I miss waking up to the sunrise over the Drakensburg Mountains. I miss the smell of fields burning. I miss the rolling, dusty hills. I miss the food. I miss the rondavels. I miss the angelic harmonies. But most of all, I miss the precious Zulu faces. They helped me learn why God was willing to sacrifice His son. They helped me learn what love is.
I would desperately love to devote my summer to a war-torn orphanage somewhere in the wild yonder. But. I am not getting a clear "yes." Right now, my priorities have to have to have to be focused on finishing school. I really need to take summer classes and continue saving money. So what do I do? Should I stay here at LU, take as many hours as possible, and try to find a good job in town? Should I try for another summer at TSG? Should I go for an apartment somewhere completely different (Dallas, anyone?) and deplete my savings for the sake of independence? I don't know where to start, and the weeks pass too quickly not to wonder.
I hate not knowing where I am. I hate feeling like my identity is at the mercy of each passing breeze. I hate lostness and insecurity and not being able to hear God as the booming, unmistakable voice from Bible cartoons.
Life is enchantment. Life is adventure. Life is damn scary.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 12:55 AM :: + ::

"It's the last laugh of the laughter..." (Travis)

By mandate of Dang Olden:
"Let's hear about your top 5 movies, and why they're your top 5."
Some of my favorites, randomly selected and in no particular order:
+ The Princess Bride - An undeniable classic, even though the less-popular book is better. Who can resist such blatant, dazzling satire of "Wuv, twoo wuv?"
+ Braveheart - Mel Gibson and Scotland and epic adventure set to James Horner. Me likes.
+ Don't Say a Word - What do you get when you combine psychology and suspense together in a tasteful, captivating way?
+ Moulin Rouge - I love the way every scene of this movie is drowning in art. Oh yeah, and I'm bohemian too.
+ Amélie - Delightful, whimsical, magical... popping bubble wrap... slipping one's hand into a sack of grain... cracking crème brulee with a teaspoon... shy dreamers falling in love...

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:: Bethany Bassett - 4:33 PM :: + ::

"Deliver me from Swedish furniture!" (FC)

Polls have closed, the votes are in. My unheard-of bedtime was 10:21 p.m., which hands the victory to Dang by one minute. Way to go, Dang... What's the next post going to cover?
Note: As long as the template was being hateful, I decided to update the links. Have at 'em, kids.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 7:02 PM :: + ::

"How wonderful life is, now you're in the world..." (Elton, Ewan, Me)

I'm trying to find 2 somethings to name Ethelbert and Bertha, after the terrors of my English Lit exam this morning. In-597-AD-King-Ethelbert-was-converted-to-Christianity-by-St.-Augustine-who- was-sent-by-Pope-Gregory-on-account-of-the-Frankish-Monk-brought-to-England-by-Bertha-who- happened-to-be-Ethelbert's-wife. I don't have anything worthy of such monikers. Yet. But I will. Any suggestions?
Today is soup and biscuits and Vitamin Cs and zero ability to smell. Today is sitting on the kitchen counter, in blissful disregard of our 5 desks, 3 tables, and 16 chairs. Today is messy ponytails and bubblegum chapstick. Today is learning how to share umbrellas without decapitation. Today is happy music turned up way too loud and forgotten coffee warming up the apartment. Today would be snuggling up to a movie, except it's not. Today is discovering Mint Oreos in the Forbidden Cabinet of Obesity and Death, and feeling guilty, but eating 5 anyway. Today is songs and stars and no hormones and friendly pillows. Today is happy no matter who.

P.S. - Oh, and the polls over Bethany's bedtime close at 7 p.m., Central Time tonight. Happy guessing.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 12:49 PM :: + ::

"Never was a gansta, till I graduated to one..." (Hmmm)

Yo, check it. Whoever guesses most accurately what time I went to bed last night gets to choose my next blog topic. Fun stuff, eh? Now get busy commenting.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 7:06 AM :: + ::

"I've been thinking about you, so how could you sleep?" (Radiohead)

Peppermint tea and hyperventilation for breakfast... Why do they want to kill us? I haven't pulled any all-nighters lately, but 4:30 en la mañana has been standard fare for the last week. Does education normally inspire apathy?
Mmm, but the lovely part of each morning is knowing that something could happen before night to make up for lack of sleep, wrath at professors, and... well, general consternation. So many dear little surprises could be waiting just around the corner...
"(Smile.)"

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:: Bethany Bassett - 11:16 AM :: + ::

"Time in-between was just a dream... did we leave this place?" (Live)

I have never seen such incessant lightening before -- eerie flashes, tumbling over each other, the display of a Master Technician who is dangerous and wild and good. I won't be playing in the rain tonight.
Confessions of a weary college student:
This weekend, I filled the last page of my 21st journal. I took long naps and slept short nights. I forgot to eat. I checked my e-mail 4,972 times too often. I stopped analyzing. I tried on a new perspective and discovered things about last summer. I smiled. I got to wear a very special bracelet. I walked the loop. I learned that I can't make it one week without John. I didn't check my CPO. I had butter-pecan ice cream and conversation that made no sense. I remembered. I kissed a friend's bruise to make it better. I forgot to breathe too. I went to church. I rediscovered laughter. I cried. I didn't do my homework. I tried to believe that I am myself. I failed.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 8:30 PM :: + ::

"You make me look forward to you..." (from the wall of Starbucks)

Sometimes the biggest hugs from God are friends who take an evening off to be friends (half-n-half optional).

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:: Bethany Bassett - 1:21 PM :: + ::

"No alarms and no surprises... Silent silence..." (Radiohead)

Just had to prove that I really was up till ungodly hours. Maybe it's just me, but logical thought seems so much easier when the rest of the world is in bed. Or maybe not.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 3:28 AM :: + ::

"Dip your hands in colors, while the young night flutters in on you, and fingerpaint me pictures of all you see..." (Over the Rhine)

I love how aggressive the sky is tonight. "Don't mess with Texas" makes me want to go play in the rain.
In the spare minutes in-between life, I've been reading Wild at Heart: Discovering the Secret of a Man's Soul by John Eldredge. I've always enjoyed reading books not intended for my gender, marital status, age, etc. -- I'm fascinated by the different perspectives, by stepping into the shoes of someone very unlike me. This particular book talks about the three inborn desires of men: 1) A battle to fight, 2) An adventure to live, and 3) A beauty to rescue. Eldredge shoots down the church-bulletin portrayal of men as passive, mild, gentle, civilized.

"Adventure, with all its requisite danger and wildness, is a deeply spiritual longing written into the soul of man. The masculine heart needs a place where nothing is prefabricated, modular, nonfat, zip lock, franchised, on-line, microwavable. Where there are no deadlines, cell phones, or committee meetings. Where there is room for the soul. Where, finally, the geography around us corresponds to the geography of our heart."

Do you menfolk agree?

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:: Bethany Bassett - 8:04 PM :: + ::

"God, if You're there, I wish You'd show me..." (Chris Rice)

I don't understand why no amount of trying will ever be enough. I don't understand why life is neither rational nor fair. I don't understand why a merciful God let his wrath burn against tiny babies in the Old Testament. I don't understand how a God full of lovingkindness would let (or cause?) terrible things happen to people who love Him, just to demonstrate His own glory. I don't understand why humans, created in the image of God, are so innately messed up. I don't understand how "My yoke is easy, and My burden is light" and "Take up your cross and follow Me" go together. I don't understand how we are saved by faith alone, while faith without works is dead. I don't understand how either heaven or hell equate to justice. I don't understand why the "religious" people are the most deceived and corrupted. I don't understand why we are expected to know God without being able to understand who He is. I don't understand why we have to pray. I don't understand the purpose of life. I don't understand why we shouldn't be able to understand.
So many contradictions, so many questions. I can't even express how scary it is to doubt.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 7:24 PM :: + ::

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens..." (The Sound of Music)

Just a few...
Making a dirty room sparkle
Whispering in a crowded room
Disecting food
Friends who understand when I say "him"
Clean hair
Hilarious dashes to find the telephone
Long letters
Wrapping my hands around a mug of hot café
Girlie-girl talks
Hugs that speak louder than hello or goodbye or too many words in-between
Fresh flowers
The last bell of the day
Rain of any kind, anywhere
Unexpected visits
Pajamas + 1,000 pillows + good book
Learning that I've inspired someone
Whole-body smiles
The sense of empowerment, seconds after jumping off... well, you know
Lip-Smackers
Too many coffee mugs (it's like the real world -- there's no such thing)
Ed Gorey
Finding unorthodox uses for mundane household products
Bare feet
People's concern when I'm feeling low
Milk and cookies
Music I can lose myself in, no matter my mood
Being trusted with secrets
Winning a game, any game -- football, monopoly, poker, whatever
Sincere compliments
The smell of outdoors in the country
When eyes talk
The mystical pattern of sunlight through leaves
Prose that could double as poetry
Blustery days
Christmas lights of all colors
Discovering forgotten treasures at Goodwill
Brightening someone else's day

Labels: Yore

:: Bethany Bassett - 10:16 AM :: + ::

"Let's swim to the moon..." (The Doors)

They all need to talk, to be heard, to have an understanding soul validate them. When they shut the doors, block out all sights and sounds and expectations... what are they left alone with? Mature, collected, wise adults, facing the world with complacent smiles while tiny, huge parts of themselves are dying... No life, no passion, no spark. That's what society requires, right?
Oh people, walking around with hearts stifled, silenced, buried under a lifetime of expectations... Please wake up, please! Let yourselves weep over beauty. Let those deep, undefinable places inside be stirred by nostalgia. Don't learn how to laugh -- just let it pour out of you when joy seeps through the cracks. Do you not understand that life without passion is a tragic oxymoron?
Grow young while you can... enjoy life, relish it... imbibe pleasure... be crazy and unique and unconventional... do what makes you dizzy with delight... run after the dreams that catch at your heart strands... wake up!
Life is meant to be lived, and you are all so beautiful. Can you see it? Can you?

"And what I gotta say, is rebel...
While today is still today, choose well..." ~Lauryn Hill

Labels: Yore

:: Bethany Bassett - 12:17 AM :: + ::