piano keys.
keyboards. (especially the spacebar)
doorknobs.
sugary food.
books with character (aka nastiness spilled on them.)
cat claws in denim.
ballpoint pens after you take them apart and surgically remove the spring.
zippers.
I told a friend who was watching the lambs with me in the Czech Republic that I really hate sticky fingers. Apples and citrus-y fruits tend to do that to one's hands, if the fruits aren't consumed carefully. But anyways, I think I'll learn to love the feeling of sticky fingers, if children entail stickiness.
I'll be posting the rest of my "Book of Reflections" that I wrote two years ago when I was a senior in high school for the benefit of my friends and so I'll see just how far God has led me these past two years. I'll also be adding my running commentary, noted with FSAE... though I'll try to not go too bracket-crazy.
ARGH. My spacebar seems to enjoy getting stuck on the word "I." Iwill not go crazy over this.
If you could, reader, pray for my friend Laura , as she wanders through Great Britain and maybe France! I'm looking forward to seeing pictures of a real Irish St. Patrick's Day celebration :)
I also seem to resist being vertical during the tenth hour of the morning. Idon't know why it's been this way; last quarter I woke up much earlier to fight rush hour to get to nine o'clock classes on time. ARGH. And getting nine hours didn't even help too much-- Ijust ended up feeling rushed and weird. Brunch is cool, but don't make it a usual happening, reader. Your body needs multiple meals, preferably more centered towards the beginning of your day.
My grandfather found a new hiking jacket, so he gave me his old one. I love this thing a little too much. (By the way, my grandmother refers to her husband as "daddy" when she talks to me. A Freudian slip? Iapprove, even if it makes things a bit confusing--you see, my grandfather is in better physical shape than my father, which directly correlates to the degree a hand-me-down will fit me... you get the picture) This jacket has a pouch directly in the front, between the buttoned-on hood and the single typical sweatshirt pocket one sticks one's hands in. This pouch makes me feel like a kangaroo!
I have a paper due next Thursday at 3 PM. Count on it no sooner than Tuesday, the day of my Greek final exam.
I feel guilty for not volunteering to help Branch of Hope OPC with their neighborhood outreach visitation program, but it is a drive away from Long Beach, where I'd probably be prone to getting myself lost, even with a partner in evangelism. Long Beach OPC is doing a similar thing this weekend, and Ithink it will not only be a great study break, but also a way to spread awareness of the gospel, this cure to our cancerous sin, and one of many faithful churches in my neighborhood.
keyboards. (especially the spacebar)
doorknobs.
sugary food.
books with character (aka nastiness spilled on them.)
cat claws in denim.
ballpoint pens after you take them apart and surgically remove the spring.
zippers.
I told a friend who was watching the lambs with me in the Czech Republic that I really hate sticky fingers. Apples and citrus-y fruits tend to do that to one's hands, if the fruits aren't consumed carefully. But anyways, I think I'll learn to love the feeling of sticky fingers, if children entail stickiness.
I'll be posting the rest of my "Book of Reflections" that I wrote two years ago when I was a senior in high school for the benefit of my friends and so I'll see just how far God has led me these past two years. I'll also be adding my running commentary, noted with FSAE... though I'll try to not go too bracket-crazy.
ARGH. My spacebar seems to enjoy getting stuck on the word "I." Iwill not go crazy over this.
If you could, reader, pray for my friend Laura , as she wanders through Great Britain and maybe France! I'm looking forward to seeing pictures of a real Irish St. Patrick's Day celebration :)
I also seem to resist being vertical during the tenth hour of the morning. Idon't know why it's been this way; last quarter I woke up much earlier to fight rush hour to get to nine o'clock classes on time. ARGH. And getting nine hours didn't even help too much-- Ijust ended up feeling rushed and weird. Brunch is cool, but don't make it a usual happening, reader. Your body needs multiple meals, preferably more centered towards the beginning of your day.
My grandfather found a new hiking jacket, so he gave me his old one. I love this thing a little too much. (By the way, my grandmother refers to her husband as "daddy" when she talks to me. A Freudian slip? Iapprove, even if it makes things a bit confusing--you see, my grandfather is in better physical shape than my father, which directly correlates to the degree a hand-me-down will fit me... you get the picture) This jacket has a pouch directly in the front, between the buttoned-on hood and the single typical sweatshirt pocket one sticks one's hands in. This pouch makes me feel like a kangaroo!
I have a paper due next Thursday at 3 PM. Count on it no sooner than Tuesday, the day of my Greek final exam.
I feel guilty for not volunteering to help Branch of Hope OPC with their neighborhood outreach visitation program, but it is a drive away from Long Beach, where I'd probably be prone to getting myself lost, even with a partner in evangelism. Long Beach OPC is doing a similar thing this weekend, and Ithink it will not only be a great study break, but also a way to spread awareness of the gospel, this cure to our cancerous sin, and one of many faithful churches in my neighborhood.
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