Thanks for your questions but-

There are, at times,

no explanations and no reason.

We're asked to accept and embrace

the unknown with faith.

But mine doesn't look the same as yours.

Life, that is.

My calling isn't yours and nope, it won't even resemble it.

You've hurt me, I've hurt you, but there's

not much to redeem when you're already redeemed in mercy.

Don't plan on me or cast your bet.

'Cause I don't know what "future" is.

I'm clinging to the ever-precious now.

A little place of home.

My bedroom is my hideaway, my safe spot, my creative domain.

I like it when it's neat and tidy. Takes effort. /whew

Nesting tendencies have limited direction until I have my own place.

For now, here's my home...

Some of the decorative elements are now a tad too jungle for my taste, but the antique

metal bed frame and folding tea table are keepers.

Framed print of Lady in the Meadow by Kinuko Y. Craft.

My area for drawing, sewing, scrap booking, art booking, crafting, make-up storage.

It's so very nice when the afternoon sun beams in the window .

The beautiful nature prints are Tyler's...they brighten up my day.

The bookcase is filled with literature, novels, poetry, how-to's, cook books, and Christian literature.

All, of which, I've read.

The chest of drawers and dresser (other photo) are my dad's furniture from his childhood.

So of course they're antiques. Tee hee. (Okay, seriously, they are.)

The frame on the left holds my name and my brothers' written in lovely Japanese calligraphy.

The golden stars are ornaments from Anthropologie.

I purchased the vintage avocado-colored couch at friend's yard sale for $15.

I was given the almost-avocado-matching vintage bench, which when covered in homework,

is nicely camouflaged to blend in.

The photographs are of my family. The print is The Annunciation Triptych by Robert Campin.

The desk is generally strewn with notecards, stamps, text books, and half-burned candles.

(I can never bring myself to finish off candles...I love the smells too much.)

Under the pile of coffee table books is an ivory elephant statue from Vietnam,

given to me by the gammy.

(Gloria gave me the large green coffee table book of Welsh poetry and art for my birthday. I adore it.)

On the chair is the softest, fluffiest, most wonderful source of warmth ever.

The CD tower with drawers is bursting at the seams...with yet another candle on top.

The two ivory elephants are miniatures of the large one...li'l jungle-love youngins, I suppose.

The chest holds seasonal clothes, and anything that I can't stuff in my walk-in closet.

(Oh my. There won't be any documenting of that travesty of a space.)

I have four collections of colored pencils, many drawing pencils, so many Crayola crayons....

And the ruler Anne gave me, listing the great Women of Literature. So inspiring.

The ceramic lamp was a hand-me-down from grandmamma that I painted black...

(Originally blue and white with gold splatters. Not so pretty.)

The unfinished-crafts basket. Never empty.

*zmmmmm* *zmmmmm* /pause. *snip* *rip* /pause. *zmmmmm*

Bible, manga, The Prophet, Radical Reformission

((And hearts))

Preparing for the long night

Sometimes, my optimism is swallowed. Swept over and consumed by a fear of the unknown and fear of a failure. Certain inevitabilities, like rain and running out of gas and peanut-butter on my knuckles when I make sandwiches, become silly issues. Not much of anything can drag me out, logic least of all. It is usually preceded by a manic energy for a day or two, so by the time a depression sweeps in I have nothing left to fight it.

Sometimes, I know exactly what would help, and wish so badly someone could fix me, and sometimes I don't. But if I had to tell someone what could fix me, it wouldn't work as well. There was someone in my life who knew innately what to do. Unfortunately, my mother has never known. She is kind, yet frustrated, if she listens to my stuttered explanations. She has never been one to hug or hold me when I was upset, and that's something I desperately need, in just the right way. But my pre-semester breakdown is almost over, and I'm pulling out of it.

At this moment, I need to nap before my first preceptor shift tonight. I'm nervous and terrified and somewhat resigned to the fates. I know tonight is a testing night for both my nurse and myself. I need to witness the flow of the STICU, the patients that are there, the schedule for the night, and the expectations I'm performing under. The nurse needs to see my earnestness, my dedication to learning, and my eagerness to experience everything possible. I know she won't throw me to the wolves, yet I can't help but wince at the thought me not performing something she expects me to already know. //deep breaths. My breakdown didn't have great timing...but when does it ever. I'll pray hard. And rest up. And do my best tonight.