RACE and ETHNICITY

. . . are not the same thing.

Pardon me while I stand on my soapbox for a moment.

Over the past few days, I've been trying to fill out all the paper work so that I can study abroad in the spring semester. In the process I have had to check the appropriate box for my "ethnicity" several times.

You are probably familiar with the choices listed under the "ethnic" question:

-White, non-Hispanic

-African American, non-Hispanic

-Hispanic

-Asian American/Pacific Islander

-Multiracial

-Other, Please Specify _________________

. . . So many things wrong here.

Let's go through them one by one, shall we?

First off, can you tell me the only ETHNICITY listed here?

Yes, that's right, HISPANIC.

Because Hispanic is the only option--with the possible exception of "Pacific Islander"--that deals with CULTURE instead of RACE. White people can be Hispanic. Black people can be Hispanic. People of Chinese descent, raised in a Spanish-speaking country, area, or home, can be Hispanic.

Second, "white" is not an ethnicity. Not all white people are the same, not even in the US. If you want to ask me about my race, fine; I have no issue filling the bubble by white . . . but that is NOT my ethnicity. My ETHNICITY would be Southern American (notably different from South American) or Anglo-Irish-Scottish-Dutch-Franco-German-Danish-Norwegian-Polish-Russo-Brazilian American. Make me a bubble that says that.

Moving right along . . .

Next up on the chopping block? The term African American.

What SHOULD this term mean? A naturalized individual who was born in a country IN AFRICA and then applied for American citizenship at some later time in life.

What DOES this term mean? Anyone in America who is black.

So what about a white woman born in South Africa who moves to the US? Or an Arab man from Egypt?

Not black, no, but they have a more substantial claim to the term "African American" than most people who use it.

. . . Just saying.

The term Asian American is perhaps the most ridiculous as an "ethnicity" when you consider how BROAD the word "Asian" really is.

"Asian" includes Arabs, Persians, Indians, Mongols, Orientals (which itself is FAR too broad a term to accurately encompass the Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, Vietnamese, etc.), and--of course--the millions of white people in Russia. Just to name a few.

See how ridiculous that is?

So, in conclusion:

If you want to ask about race, fine. But ask about RACE (white, black, etc.).

If you want to ask about ethnicity, ask about ETHNICITY.

Or, if you want to move forward into the twenty-first century, stop asking about it all together.

Which, really, is the way I feel we should all go.

If I could,

I would open your eyes

to see the brilliant colors

of His paintings in the sky.


If I could,

I would open your heart

to feel the perfect warmth

of His tender embrace.


But I can't;


I can only tell you

what I've seen

and what I've felt,


and hope against hope

that you will listen and

find Him, too.

Dancing as He does,

God once bumped into me.


"Ouch," I said.


"Oh, quit your whining,"

He replied, "I wouldn't

have hit you


if you had been dancing, too."

A Comment on Humanity

I sneezed in the library

and no one even looked up.

Ivan Ilyich

"Il faut que jeunesse se passe."

--Says who?!

I certainly don't intend to grow up,

and have you met God?

Silly Tolstoy.

Dear God,

I spent over a year

trying to be someone I'm not,

thinking that's who I was

supposed to be . . .


can I get that time back?


What?!


Why are you laughing?


I'm serious.

Elijah

there is an immense pressure in my soul

to write, write, write

and i wonder--yes, i wonder

if it means i won't have too much longer

to share the experience of this soul

before the rapture seizes me

and i make off like elijah,

leaving all you suckers to stare

confused at the sky.

To a best friend--

How I wish I could show you everything I've learned,

sit you down and impart this knowledge that drives me to Madness,

remind you of everything that will return the Sparkle to your eyes.


My heart breaks for you, friend,

recalling our valiant maneuvers in the battle

before we were wounded.


I stand here, waiting on you to look up

and see me with your sword in my

hand--I (we) all need you to get up and fight.


I spoke to God this morning,

He said He'd love to hear from you.


I would break my back and hang bleeding for you,

if that's what it would take--can you see the Christ in me?


I'm just a drop in the sea of His love for you.


Can't you remember?

Ecstasy

This is too funny--Your Soul is

everywhere.


Open Your Mouth and laugh with me;


Ha, now You have me giggling like a

little girl.


Will they talk to me or not? Have I yet

gleaned all of You from this

moment?


Your playfulness astounds me--


my shining soul spills out.


Do I see what I see, or what I

imagine I see?


Either way, I see You.

An Earnest Prayer

Make me the head and heart of Your Body--

the branch from Your Vine upon which more

sacred fruit may grow.

Bell Towers

Men are not divine,

simply vessels for Him:

each a tower whose

soul-bell cannot help

but to reverberate

the sacred Song

first played in His Soul.

Prayer for a crying girl

Kiss her soul.


Touch her heart with Your lips.


Open her eyes to Love.

The Divine Secret

God may get mad at me

for sharing this information

so freely,

but I thought you should know.


Every person is Christ saying,

"Love Me! Love Me!"

and when you realize that,

it all becomes so simple.

How do you think I feel?

"How do You expect me to

keep loving, keep loving

when it feels like the

whole world conspires

against me?


"How do You expect me to

keep giving, keep giving

when no one seems to

notice and pour back

into me?"


"How do you think I

feel?" He replied, " I gave

all of Myself, and what

did they do?

Kill Me."

God looked at me and smiled,

His eyes tinged a bit by

sadness.


"You may understand Me better than

most--I would even call Us

Friends--but that doesn't make

you any better than anyone else.


"Instead of looking at others as

inferior, look at them with

love, and We will have another

thing to talk about during Our

little chats:


"How lonely they can make Us feel."

Damn Dogmatists

Whose idea was it

to compile a book

and say, "This is all

God said; no more,

no less"?


Just because He

doesn't talk to you,

doesn't mean the

rest of us can't

hear Him.


and don't you know

how many wars you've

caused?


Damn dogmatists.

Somewhere

Somewhere between tomorrow

and yesterday,


you and me,


smiles and laughter,


God sits waiting for you to

remember Him.

Listen to that.

Imagine you are sitting in a forest

by a campfire with God.


As you look over the flames

into His eyes,


What does He say to you?


Listen to that.

the nature of faith

faith is trust and submission:

trust that God will act

and submission when He does.

Eloi! Eloi!

I sit and wait for You,

my mind and soul burn

with a nervous energy:


desire to feel Your presence,

to touch Your warmth.

my heart beats with a lust

for Your form,

Your smell in my nostrils


great Peace to my imagination.

Eden

in my mind there is a place

hidden--with Wisdom--

in the mountains;

tucked away in the valley of Solitude.


in the center there is a Well:

let us call it Peace

and all around that place

is a garden, immaculately groomed.


beds of flowers, herbs, vegetables,

trees laden with fruits,

bounties of nuts,

all watered from the Well by the Gardener.


there are animals, too, of course:

birds chirp elegantly,

and fish swim

in a pond lined with turtles.


there is a wall around this Garden,

and on the south side

a House

with a row of guest rooms in the east.


there is no electricity here,

only candles and oil lamps

and a grand fireplace

with more purpose than warmth in winter.


raised here as children, eventually

we can see nothing but

that Wall around

and assume its goal is to trap us.


consumed with curiosity, we peek

then climb to the top

and jump over,

while the Gardener cries in the window.


close your eyes, children,

and let us return

to Laughter:

it is not just a place in my mind.

The Truth of Immaturity

I was chastised last night, called immature for flicking bits of paper at a friend using a hairtie.

"Just because you aren't the center of attention--" the lecture began.

I wasn't trying to be the center of attention. I was trying to have fun, goof around, and--most importantly--laugh.

This was at a party, after all.

At first, the person's comments bothered me a great deal. Later, walking, I was able to overcome my offense and realize the truth of the matter.

I will pose you the same question I asked myself on the way home last night.


Which is really more immature:

playfully flicking bits of paper to amuse yourself,

or

sitting stiff-necked and pompous to impress others?


Hopefully you'll arrive at the same conclusion I did.

So I dare you to flick paper.

Tie shoelaces together.

Dust off the whoopee cushion.

And--most importantly--laugh.

Because (while there is a time to be serious) it is much more frequently important to enjoy yourself.


"Never take life too seriously," I once read somewhere, "no one gets out alive anyway."

A very valid point.

scripture

flying through the air,

i hit you with a book.


ha!


did it hurt?

revelation

show me the white stone

--with my name inscribed--

i want to know.

my soul's Lover

my soul's Lover takes many forms:

the stuff of dreams.

like the moon

the moon still shines,

even when covered with clouds.


God still loves,

even when hidden by doubt.

ravished soul

God seized me and made Love to me

in my heart--

there is safety in His arms;

He is a Lover Who satisfies.


hold me and give me the comfort my

soul seeks--love that won't fade.

questions for God

is this reality better than the dreams which

used to fill my heart?


will my desire ever be quenched?


there is a fire in my heart

and i spend days asking--wondering--if

i should put it out

or add kindling.


--You choose.

the Voice of God

the Voice of God is

the faintest of whispers

to a novice listener;


but, to a seasoned veteran,

It is a Scream that

cannot be ignored.

your road

what adventures does your heart

contain?



listen and know.



find your road:

it begins at your door.

écriture

i touch this paper

and a whole world opens

before my eyes;



but it is the Pen who

decides how much you

will see here.

One Night

One night,

God laughed so hard

that He dropped His purse

and all the stars fell out.


"Oh well," He said, "no use crying

over spilled love."

False Religion

People would rather lie than tell the truth

And admit they don't know.

Theology

How can a theologian know that God

is infinite and claim to know

all about Him?


How can he know that God is everywhere

and insist that his is the only way to

find Him?


Do you know?


It doesn't make much sense to me,

either.

Transfiguration

Crying last night,

I grabbed a friend

and--just for a moment--

his body became the Christ's.


It scared me a little,

and I've been smiling

ever since.

Leaves on a Branch

I must credit this thought to Saint

Catherine of Siena, who first

wrote it in a poem.


She insisted that death isn't real,

that we are each a leaf

on a branch.


We bud and grow,

changing, changing,

until we feel the Fall Wind and

let go of all we thought

we loved and hated,

embracing the Light.


Isn't that neat?


We don't die,

we just Blow Away.

Showers

I awoke to the piercing sound of my alarm clock, pressed the snooze button, and settled back into my sheets to enjoy nine more minutes of blissful sleep.

Behind my eyelids, an epic scene of anguish greeted me:


I stood on an ancient hill outside Jerusalem watching three men die.

The One in the center, drenched in blood, beckoned me closer with what little movement He could achieve in His fingers.

With each step I could see in more vivid detail the horrors afflicted upon His body--flesh hung in tatters and blood poured down the wood, staining it a sickening crimson.

And yet . . .

As I drew closer, I could see water flowing from His side. Clean, fresh water gushing forth almost like a fountain.

Standing below the sunken Form, I looked up.

"This is for you," He grated out through parched and cracked lips, casting his gaze towards the Spring in His side.

Taking a hint, I stepped into the stream of water.

It poured down, covering me, drenching me, soaking me to the bone. Cold and warm at the same time, I found myself shivering as my pores simultaneously gaped open from the heat. The water penetrated every inch of my body, enveloping me: a beautiful flowing hug.

After a few moments in the glistening light, I stepped back to look up at Him.

He looked down at me.

"I can't always be this obvious, you know," He reminded me.

The faintest of His infinite smiles lifted my soul to Union, and then


My alarm clock went off for the second time, pulling me back into the physical world. I knew I couldn't ignore it this time. Resigning myself to being awake, I got out of bed and grabbed my towel.

In the bathroom, I stepped into the shower and turned the knobs. Water. I waited until it had warmed to an acceptable temperature, then I stepped into the refreshing, gushing stream and began to lather my body. I allowed the water to clean me, awaken me.

It wasn't until I was out of the shower, much later, that I remembered this experience and His words. It was a little while longer before it clicked and I could understand the message hidden there.

Can you see it?

What if God was a verb?

What if God was a verb?

If I said I "Goded" someone, what would that mean?

Did I hug them? Kiss them?

Paint them a picture?

Sing them a song?

Or did I simply Love them?



Friends, God is a Verb,

And He's always in the present tense.

Everywhere

Stepping out of my dorm room on the way to class, I passed a janitor cleaning in the hall. He looked at me with sad, searching eyes so I smiled.

"Have you seen God?" he asked.

"Yes, I have," I replied. "In fact, I can see Him right now."

The man's eyes, still tinged with loneliness, spelled confusion.

I explained: "He's you."

Enigmatic twinkle in my eyes, I threw him another smile and continued on my way so that he could ponder over what I said.

Walking down the stairs, I felt God squeeze my shoulder approvingly.

"Now," He said, "you are finally beginning to understand: I am everywhere."

Week at a Glance

so i've been meaning to do a post on my classes this semester and what i think of them but just haven't gotten around to it . . . until now.

spanish 1010

so after five years of french and a brief, one-semester fling with arabic, i finally decided to give spanish a try. so far, i think i like it. my professor is young and seems to actually know what he is talking about, while also making it interesting. the downside? i'm afraid that my romance languages are going to blend into "frespañol."

europe in the age of the baroque

this course is every bit as presumptuous as it sounds . . . but i think i will really enjoy it. it's taught by an older, balding southern gentleman who says "ah" instead of "r." however, while the topic is interesting, he can be a bit boring and pronounces all the french words incorrectly. o_O

literary heritage

despite an inherent potential to be incredibly boring, the professor will--i think--actually make this course interesting enough to attend. i have to contract it for honors credit, though, which means an extra 10-15 page paper. we'll see how that goes.

theories of international relations

this class makes me question why i chose the major i did. the professor seems interesting, though, and i think i will actually learn a lot . . . but, for one of the first times in school thus far i will actually have to work at it. lots of papers. lots of notes. boo.

human rights and social movement

this is actually an anthropology course and i think it will be one of my two favorites (along with the below) this semester. it's basically a big discussion of human rights and how they can be determined and applied, especially in light of cultural relativism. i'm sure it sounds boring to you, but i'm psyched.

italian cinema since 1945

you only wish you could take this class (and have it count for your major). we meet for class once a week on thursdays to watch italian films and discuss them. oh. yes. i have to write several papers over the semester, but it will be well worth it. this class also rocks because it is taught by a sweet italian lady who is totally awesome.

anyway, that's just a little overview of the 18 hours i'll be taking over the next few months.

i'm pretty excited . . . just about the first time in my life i have been able to say that about school.

Love Songs

I look at God and He smiles,

I smile and He giggles,

I giggle and He laughs,

I laugh and He guffaws,

and We both wipe tears of joy from Our eyes

as We sing love songs to each other

deep into the night.

Dancing

On a walk across crowded campus, I paused to sit on a bench by the fountain.

To my right sat the Teacher, legs crossed, watching the thousands rush past on their errands.

I smiled and He returned the favor.

"Isn't it a shame," He said after a moment, "that everyone thinks they are in such a hurry? They have no time to dance!"

Seeing my confusion, He leaned in conspiratorially.

"If you let your heart dance through each moment," He whispered, "you will never know sadness or pain."

He looked into my eyes for a moment and then leaned back, lesson imparted.

My mouth laughed.

My soul flew.

We danced.

Icharus

Entranced,

insects fly

towards Light,

no matter the cost.


Why are men

not so bold?


At least

Icharus flew.

OCD to the EXTREME

so i read these things on anna and powers' sites a while back, but i'm only just now getting around to doing it myself.

now you will know how truly insane i really am.

*ahem*

the rules:

1. mention the person who tagged you.
2. list the rules on your blog.
3. tell about six unspectacular quirks of yours.

here goes . . .

1. when eating m&ms, i first divide them into piles based on color (reds together, yellows, etc.). then, systematically, i eat one of each color until there are an equal number of each. once there are equal numbers of each color of m&m, i collect one from each color pile and eat them all at the same time, until i am out of m&ms. ALWAYS.

2. some people may know this, but i am extremely ocd about making my bed. this probably stems from my mother's ocd bed-making which is a direct result of her father being in the army and being obsessed with a well-made bed himself. a three generation habit . . . beat that. a bed should be made, and it should always be made well. no exceptions.

3. when getting out of the shower, i count down from 10 to 1 before turning off the water. i only do this at "home" showers, however: in murfreesboro or at the dorm, for example. never if i'm over at someone else's place. when i do this without realizing it is when i know i'm at home someplace.

4. i despise odd numbers. whether selecting the volume on the tv or in the car, i will not stand for anything but even digits. i'll even wait around when setting a clock for the next even minute. the only exception is when setting the microwave, in which case i NEVER use an even number, or even a predictable odd number (2:25, 1:50, etc.). in this case, i only use the most random numbers i can come up with; 2:47 or 1:53, for example. don't ask me why . . . i don't know.

5. when going down stairs, i never step on the bottom step. i believe this originates with cameron and me in middle school or so. you never want to hit the bottom in life, do you? then don't step on the bottom step.

6. and, last but not least, i cannot STAND creases in paperback book bindings. i will read a book at the most awkward, almost closed, angle--barely able to read the words towards the inside of the page--rather than risk a crease. if i spend too long on a certain part of a book, i begin to panic, worrying that i'll make a crease and try to read faster. i just realized this fear may be part of the reason i don't like to read books more than once.

anyway, there you have it . . . a few of my (many) quirks laid out for you to see.

please don't judge.

if you happen to do any of the same things, let me know.

and if you are reading this and haven't already done it, consider yourself tagged.

Well?

God will often

stick His foot out

to trip you,


then bring a hand

to His mouth

to suppress a chuckle


while He watches you pout.



Eventually,

He grows tired of

His little game,


furrows His brow,

crosses His arms,

and just waits for you to


stop being so serious.




Well?