:: Tuesday, November 26, 2002 ::

"Suddenly something I'm not..." (Our Lady Peace)

Sorry for not updating the blog recently.
Sometimes life just takes over everything else.
Much has happened.
Much more is to come.
Only 2-1/2 weeks left, in which too much must happen.
All-nighter again.
At least half of campus is up with me.
You should do something exciting today.
Like kidnap friends and give them cookies.
Adios, amigos.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 5:09 AM :: + ::

"All day, staring at the ceiling making friends with shadows..." (Matchbox 20)

Roomie and I had adventures muy temprano this morning. We went to go get a box that apparently does not exist from Lowe's, where we were asked if we were lost. Oh yes, I was looking for JC Penney's! I could've smacked him, even if my aggression rating is the lowest in our class. Does the fact that we're female mean we don't know our way around a home improvement store? I probably know how to remodel a house better than you do, buddy. After our fruitless endeavors (and an unsuccessful attempt to leave through the "NO EXIT" doors right in front of an employee meeting), we went out for a consolation breakfast. I intend never to go back to Lowe's that early ever again during mortal life.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 10:27 AM :: + ::

"A duck may be somebody's mother..." (Unknown)

Selected excerpts from my new book: Country & Blues HARMONICA for the MUSICALLY HOPELESS:
"Deep in the soul of every man, woman and child beats the heart of a frustrated harmonica player -- or at least I hope so..." ~The Author
"Above all, a harmonica is not a tuba. You can't blast out good tone. It has to be coaxed, especially when you first start to play. As you blow and draw your way up and down the harmonica, be gentle yet firm. Be gentle as you blow and draw. Think nice thoughts.
"You may run across a harmonica expert who will tell you to soak your harp in water to improve its tone. Ignore him.
"For vibrato, tone mellowing and drama, lay your hand across your mouth, as though yawning, and vibrate it as you play long notes and chords. This will greatly improve your sound and also help you hide your harmonica.
"If you can count to 4, you've got rhythm. If you can whistle Happy Birthday, you've got technique. And if you've ever snapped your fingers, you've probably even got some soul."

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:: Bethany Bassett - 12:28 PM :: + ::

"Faith makes everybody scared..." (Lifehouse)

Sometimes I hate being a girl,
Especially one with emotions that never quite make sense
And every kind of relationship-phobia known to mortal man,
And thoughts and thoughts with never an off-switch.
But.
God is good,
And peace can smile in the face of not-knowing,
And happiness is not contingent on me.
Why, why, so many times why does He choose to bless me this way?
Unexpected, unwarranted, unthinkable,
And quite possibly great.
We all like cryptic posts, don't we?

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:: Bethany Bassett - 4:03 AM :: + ::

"Should I be rich, or poor and scattered in my dreams?" (Jennifer Knapp)

Mis apologías for my recent dearth of blog updating. It's been an interesting week (more on that to come soon).
Stu asked: "whats your biggest regret?"
It was early Sunday morning, an undetermined number of years ago. I remember the brightness of unfiltered morning, so brilliant that the pavement gleamed, and misfortune was unthinkable. Sunshine is the master of deadly irony.
We came upon the wreck mere seconds after it had occured; the screech of metal and horrified reflexes was still on the air. A middle-aged man lay on the ground next to his twisted motorcycle. A hastily-parked Chevy pick-up and ominous marks on the guard rail showed plainly enough what had happened.
Dad ran over to see how he could help; I stayed in the car watching every new scene of an unrehearsed drama. Cars slowing down, hesitating... good people on their way to church not wanting to risk lateness for the sake of charity... others stopping, some to stand in the background with helpless curiosity, some to offer cell-phones and first-aid experience... the ambulance screaming, red and blue lights in slow motion like an underwater dream... the man's stomach swelling with internal wounds, his purple underwear when they cut off his clothing, his wife alternating between shock and hysteria. I had never seen someone die before.
All onlookers were ordered away except for my dad, the minister. The sunshine glinted off of changed faces. One person stayed behind--a college-aged girl with blonde hair and stylish clothes, standing alone, hiding her face in two hands that would never be big enough. I heard the whisper clearly: "Go to her." But I didn't. I sat in the car, transfixed by every facet of what I was seeing, simultaneously drawn in and excluded by an intricate dance of emotions.
I later found out that the girl owned the Chevy. She had been on her way to work and changed lanes without looking. She watched that man die too, peeking through fingers that would forever carry the weight of homicide.
And I stayed in the car.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 2:08 PM :: + ::

"It's a beautiful day..." (Delirious?)

Guess what I didn't do last night?

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:: Bethany Bassett - 7:05 AM :: + ::

"Life is made of simple nothings opening to you..." (Tantric)

Tonight, you should go play on a tire swing.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 1:22 AM :: + ::

"I got sunshine in a bag..." (Gorillaz)

Revelation struck this afternoon while I was sitting outside, getting my English students excited about descriptive writing. Blows of this kind are always more staggering in "duh" moments, and this was a "duh" moment.
My relationship with psychology is a little--how shall we put this in terms of decency--strained. I love people, and I truly hope the rest of my life can be spent helping them, but the ability to handle human hearts is not something one can find in a textbook. Why have I been spending so much time wading through Freud and Adler and so many other names I won't remember in 5 years? Why am I putting myself through something I dislike so much? Yeah, I don't know either.
On the day I wind up in a corner office with a concrete view and paychecks extracted from what used to be love, you can go ahead and have my funeral. For me, people are a ministry--not a career. I want to travel the world and pen my thoughts and make as many relationships as this life allows. Unfortunately, Bethany 101 is not offered in the Psychology B.A. course listing.
I adore English. I love playing with rhetorical devices and figurative language. I love slipping into words like perfectly-tailored gloves. I love the look in students' eyes when they finally understand... when they start to enjoy the art of thoughts captured on notebook paper. I love grammar for letting me in on its secrets. And since my life is unshakable and more than figured out, I'm changing my major.
Be happy for me!
Oh, and here's a bonus tidbit for you today...
How to be a good LU chapel speaker:
1) Talk about porn. Vehemently.
2) The end.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 2:37 AM :: + ::

"Cause life is short but sweet for certain..." (DMB)

I love the leaves... flying yellow whispers of secrets someone forgot to mention,
Dizzy with uncontrol, set free by dancing breeze.
And the sky today... pure so blue that atmosphere could not conceal,
And I understand how clouds were made to protect us from too much beauty.
Do you think if I tried, I could catch tomorrow,
And make it run in place, out of time, until you and I and we could catch up?
Life is too short to miss autumn, no matter where we've been all year.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 1:45 PM :: + ::

"Waiting for the summer..." (Delirious?)

The great outdoors is cuddle-worthy cold. Consequently, last night was Official Emotional Vomit Day for our apartment (over the cuddle-worthiness or the cold? you decide). We ate approximately 90% of a pumpkin pie, and life seemed a little bit brighter.
Contrary to popular opinion, I enjoy the cold. I just enjoy it much better from behind insulated walls and too-big sweatshirts. My shoes are in a perpetual state of distress from the lovely East Texas mud, my hair no longer knows quite how to behave, and my fingers may thaw out sometime around next July--unlikely, but hopeful. However, the world is still beautiful... and apple-cinnamon tea is still sold at a grocery store near you... and hugs are still in style.
Do you know if there's any way to suspend gender for any undetermined amount of time? I think that would solve a lot of problems...

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:: Bethany Bassett - 12:07 PM :: + ::

"Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes..." (Dashboard Confessional)

Sometimes, folks, life is confusing. So many Unexpecteds can happen at random, undefined moments, and suddenly the world is upside-down. I can only wonder how people cope without God when nothing makes sense anymore.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 2:40 AM :: + ::

"I am Jack's [vehicular adventure stories]..." (Fight Club)

Tonight, Burns and Mulrich went with me to a party-type function about 20 minutes from campus. As we were driving back, Toby (my single-white-male, ghetto-funk-brother car) declared, "Clunk, clank, grinding, grinding, GRINDING!" We pulled into the first gas station we found. Twas the back left tire. Again x 2.
Before I could even feel very worried, I noticed a rather familiar man walking out of the gas station. First thought: "No way." Second thought: "Wow, God."
"Mr. Arden!" This man fixed my car on Monday; if anyone in the world would be able to diagnose the problem and fix it, he would be the one. Mr. Arden had me follow them back to his house, where he remedied el problemo. (The whole deal was the wrong clip on a tiny screw that was getting loose, lodging itself in the brakes, and creating awful noises.) I just have to not use the parking brake until Monday morning, when he will put a new clip on.
Can you imagine more perfect timing? The Ardens were supposed to have left for the weekend 2 hours before, but for some reason, they couldn't get out of the house on time. Now we all know what that "some reason" was. Just another reminder that God is incredibly good.

Current time: 4:00 a.m.
Number of the last 168 hours in which I have slept: 24
Average sleep each night for the past week: 3.24 hrs.
Current status: What?

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:: Bethany Bassett - 5:00 AM :: + ::

"Sometimes the sense of my life all depends..." (Five O'Clock People)

Let it hereby be known that I liked the chapel speaker this morning. Interesting, simple, to-the-point, relevant, real... I was impressed by the way he stood boldly, at the very front of stage, like he wanted to be part of We the Audience, neither hiding nor flaunting his artificial limbs. Everyday heroes like David Kirkwood inspire me.
What. a. week. I feel like I have gotten nothing done, yet I have been constantly busy. When used consistently, four hours of sleep a night can tamper with reality.
Stu has been talking about friendships lately. We all have such different reasons for interacting with others. Because I don't rely on people for any sort of emotional release, I normally don't realize how much I need friends until they're gone. This could very well be my fatal flaw--underestimating the importance of my friends.
Maybe the reason I've never had long-term friendships is this tendency. Or maybe it's because I keep so much of me hidden; relationships can only go so far without complete openness. Maybe people get tired of me after a few years, or maybe I get tired of them. No matter what my experiences, though, and whether I show it openly or not, I value you all. A lot. The end.

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:: Bethany Bassett - 2:17 PM :: + ::