traveling outside karma

2012, I'm ready for you.

2011-12-31T16:37:00.000-08:00

2011. It was the best at times. It was the worst at times.

I have much to be thankful for, but boy am I ready for a new year. Interestingly enough, 2011 began and ended with a family hike to Red Rocks.

New Year's Hike on Jan 1, 2011 with these adorable people.

Baby Brother's Birthday Hike on Dec 30, 2011.

I can't tell if I'm just ready for 2011 to be over or for 2012 to begin.

Call me quirky, but I'm even excited that "Twenty-Twelve" is an alliteration. Call it the year of alliteration.

Maybe that's why 2011 was such a flat year. 2011 is so cumbersome to say. "Twenty. Eleven."

5 syllables. No alliteration.

And then there was the conundrum of shortening the year. Do you say "Oh, Eleven" or just "Eleven"? What does one do? Let's just be glad these problems are coming to an end.

"Twenty-Twelve" has all the right elements of being a great year. Not only is it an alliteration, but since it's only 3 syllables there is no confusion about shortening it. "Twenty-Twelve" just rolls off the tongue.

Like any great "Eve", today I'm full of anticipation.
No resolutions. No checklists, just hope.

Hope that 2012 will be full of love, hope, joy, grace, laughter, risk taking, kindness, beautiful art, long runs, writing without worry, speaking with kindness, wisdom, listening, friendship, forgiveness, yummy things, relinquishment, provision, trust, and, of course, lots and lots of alliterations.

Happy 2012 to you!

DIY: Reupholstered Desk Chair

2011-11-13T21:34:00.000-08:00

In lieu of dropping a hundred bucks on a brand new desk chair, I decided to give a little attention to the oft neglected middle child of the "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" trinity and gave reupholstering a whirl this weekend.

With an old Ikea desk chair and my dreams in hand, I got to work.

*By dreams, I mean that for years I had watched "Trading Spaces" on TLC and imagined that one day I could build my own sofa/couch/bookcase...if I wanted to.

Now. Was. My. Time!
(Well, kind of)

Here's the before:

Let's just say it's been well loved, as you can tell by the smooshed seat.

I picked a green, vintage-esque fabric that would go great with the dark wood desk providing that lovely pop of color.

I googled "how to reupholster a desk chair" and found out I needed a Heavy Duty Stapler, which Robert loaned me. All in all, I spent a total of $19 on two yards of fabric, a box of heavy duty staples and a new foam pad. I began the tedious job of staple removing.

That was probably the hardest part. The factory staples were in this groove that made it difficult to reach. Well, that and I was using an old little pocket knife to take them out because I left my screwdriver at my office. I had a couple scary moments when the knife slipped and I nicked my finger in what ended up being a glorified paper cut. What can I say, I live on the edge.

I even covered all the staples with a little homemade piping Not an official term, just literally sewed together a 'pipe' out of the extra fabric and used a hot glue gun to hold in place.

And, now for the after...

(If you scroll slowly, it builds the suspense)

While there are a few spots that are a little 'off', I decided not to be obsessed with perfection. I told myself that I'm going to spend most my time sitting in it, not staring at it.

So, with that...there's my DIY for the weekend.

I'm now ready for Monday!

The night before...

2011-11-05T22:43:00.000-07:00

...my very first race, I was falling asleep on a makeshift couch/bed in Paso Robles. That was October of 2009. A bunch of my friends ran the half marathon, while Noemi and I ran the 5k. I was a little nervous, but mostly excited. Compared to 13.1 miles, I also thought 3 miles should be a breeze. We ended up walking about half of it. After the race, we began training.

My second race was a Half Marathon RELAY race in Sacramento, CA. A crew migrated from Las Vegas, Fresno and the Coast. The night before we painted our fingernails with black polish, because Teri is really great about commemorating things like that. She said it was to remind us we were strong. I remember feeling elated when I crossed that finish line. I remember thinking that 7.1 miles was the farthest I'd ever run. I also remember thinking 'there's no way I could do another 6 miles.'

My third race was my first Half Marathon, 13.1 miles. A year before I could barely finish a 5k and there I was at the starting line. I felt good about my training. The night before, I should have been nervous about the race but my friend set me up with her neighbor who wanted to take me out that night. I remember being more nervous about that date than the race. Well, equally nervous.

My fourth race was a 10k in February of this year. I had taken a hiatus between my Half Marathon and that 10k. After three months of NOT running, I laced up and was shocked at how much slower I r̶a̶n̶ jogged. I knew I had to readjust my goals. Keep my mind off the clock and just run. "No Walking". That was my mantra. At any hint of weakness during my run, I thought "No Walking" and at times "No $*%$ Walking, Layla." I was going for the "army sergeant" approach.

(photo credit: Emily K P)

My fifth race was my second Half Marathon. It was a beautiful and warm day in May on a course in downtown Fresno that weaved between eclectic buildings and historic homes and ran right through the Fresno Zoo! I ran past a giraffe and I think he gave me the stink eye. I could be wrong, I was running pretty fast. I was also dehydrated at the time.

Two years of running, this is my 6th race and my 3rd Half Marathon. I just can't believe that statement.

It's the night before. I've picked up my packet and all the goodies. My favorite running outfit is freshly laundered. I've gone over the course map. No pasta party, but the Dixon's treated me to pre-race ice cream tonight. I chose "Gold Medal Ribbon" flavor, found it fitting. I'm excited and I'm not sleepy. Could be the sugar. I've obsessively looked up the weather stats, hoping for better news.

I've notice three things that will make this an interesting race.

1. It will be freaking COLD!

2. It will be raining.

3. The sun will rise two minutes before the start.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

And the running adventure continues....

Lebanese Stories.

2011-09-05T19:13:00.000-07:00

Having grown up in a huge Lebanese family, I have many memories of summer nights filled with family get togethers.

I realize huge is a relative term, so by huge I mean 23 aunts and uncles and 41 cousins. Can you picture it? Huge, right?

As a kid, I remember trying to navigate my way through living rooms and backyards full of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Nights filled with swimming, sipping Arabic coffee, and sharing lots of stories.

Ever since I can remember, I've loved the art of storytelling.

Despite the language barrier, I would try to 'read the room' to tell whether someone was telling a good story or a great story.

I noticed that the good ones had people laughing, scoffing, or quipping back and forth to each other. The great ones had people jumping out of their chairs, mostly out of disbelief or disagreement. I love how animated both Lebanese storytellers and listeners are.

When I was 10, I got my first taste of great storytelling. Well, sort of. One summer night, I came downstairs to a living room full of caffeinated relatives chatting away in Arabic.

A story was being told about two people: a Lebanese man and a Syrian woman. It was implied that they were not friends, but enemies. Looking back, this was more of a joke than a story, but this premise is what made the joke a good one.

In my attempt to be included I asked a question, looking for clues to help me understand what was so funny.

I asked if they were married.

The room broke out into laughter. Apparently, this idea was preposterous. To this day, I don't know what the joke was about or how my question changed the meaning in such a way. What I do know was on that day, my contribution caused a room full of family to laugh. At? With? I didn't care.

It runs in my family.

My mom was a showgirl.

My brother's an actor.

And my dad... well, my dad's a storyteller.

This is probably because, most of the time, he comes across as extremely stoic (though I think he's a teddy bear), but the bar's been set so low that when he busts out with a cheesy story or a funny joke, you are so surprised, you find it funnier that it probably really is.

Growing up around my huge family, I picked up some Arabic terms. The essentials. Usually not gramatically correct, but enough to get by.

How are you? (male) "Key Fak?"

Can I drink water? "Fene ishrub mai?"

Where's the bathroom? "Wen hamem?"

"Akhol charmout" ...I really don't know the literal translation (don't want to know), but I know we heard it a lot when my dad was really mad, usually at other drivers.

My dad had this really funny way of cussing. He's gotten a lot better at it now.

It's like every cuss word in his Arabic and English vocabulary would be strung together to make a new supersonic expletive, as if its length would express the magnitude of his anger.

As a thirteen year old, it was hard not to crack a smile while being cussed at by an upset Arabic person. I especially found it near impossible when it didn't make grammatical sense.

Smiling or laughing only led to more cussing and maybe the occasional taking off of one's slipper and waving it in your face. That was really bad.

I have the most memories of my Aunt Renee doing this. I love my Aunt Renee. Before her stroke, she was a spitfire. She said what was on her mind. And boy, did she have presence. She wasn't my mom, but with one look she'd have me falling in line.

Whenever we were hanging out at Aunt Renee's house, she'd make us lady cousins sit on her couch with our ankles crossed, because "that's how ladies sit", she'd explain to us in Arabic.

So, there we sat, with our bangs teased out a mile high and our eyeliner so thick you'd think we'd been punched, but you know that our ankles were crossed, because we were ladies and we were not about to cross Aunt Renee.

This summer, while I was home visiting my family, my brother found some old VHS video's from the 80's. Home movies, mostly of these summer family get togethers.

Watching the home movies made me feel like Clark Griswold, stuck in the attic, in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Remember the scene?

Pure nostalgia.

We were all so young back then. Clearly velour was in fashion, as well. I instantly teared up when I saw my cousin, Gilbert, on film attempting to jump in the pool with nervous excitement. He must have been around 6 or 7 in the video. Gilbert lived down the street from our family and was like a brother. He passed away in 1998 his senior year of high school. One of many tough times our families would experience that would force us out of our youth.

When I think of my huge Lebanese family, I'm reminded of a time when summer evenings felt like ours to own.

A time of living life to the fullest. And by fullest, I mean swimming every night, sneaking into a garage freezer full of Nestle Crunch Ice Cream Bars, packing out the living room every summer to cheer on Miss Lebanon, who in 1971 actually won the Miss Universe Pageant. It was our World Cup. Strange, I know.

It was a time when family would fill living rooms; the smell of Arabic espresso would fill the evening. And where stories would be heard and told.

Is This Real Life?

2011-06-22T23:34:00.000-07:00

"Marshall, you okay?"
"Uh, yeah, every few minutes I have to fight the urge to weep openly...I'm not sure where that's coming from yet, but i think that's healthy, right?"
-Alias, Season 2, episode 15

Have you ever had one of those seasons in life where you knew things were stirring inside, but you just couldn't pinpoint how?

Around Christmas, I spilled my guts to a nun who was offering counsel for $1 per hour (that's normal, right?) and shared about everything going on in my life at the time. She was remarkably calming and identified what she called 'liminal space' in my life. Liminal space. The in-between. She said, "Layla, you're in it."

I didn't need her to tell me (but it was nice to hear). I've known for some time now that I'm not where I was, but sure as heck not where I want to be.

So, how do I enjoy (emphasis on joy) the liminal space I find myself in?

Maybe life is liminal space.
We live in this broken world, carry our broken dreams, aching for hope.
What do we do in the mean time?

If you can't laugh at yourself, life's gonna seem a whole lot longer than you like. So, what do you do? You laugh. I'm not saying I don't cry but in between I laugh... -Sam (Natalie Portman's character) in Garden State

I love that. Finding cause to laugh in the midst of difficult seasons. I want that perspective, but Lord knows, I'm as bad of a 'fake-laugher' as I am a 'fake-crier'.

I also know that joy is much more than mere laughter. So, for one month, I decided to end each day taking a moment to identify 5 things I was thankful for that day. Every day. Even on the bad days when I was laying in bed wishing for a do-over. In fact, those were the days I found myself most thankful for the discipline.

Here are just a few of the things I gave thanks for:

Getting to see the sun rise today.
Running the half marathon today and my sore muscles that tell me I pushed myself.
That Panera doesn't charge me office rent.
A great phone call with Sol E. today.
Holding my tongue today.
The ability to write, use my mind and voice.
For kind strangers on airplanes. For that matter, I'm thankful for airplanes, too! I flew in a metal tube across the sky to another town! Crazy!
Someone told me they read my blog!
For having best friends in my life and getting to talk to them today.
Waking up to a deep conversation with my mom, being able to comfort her as she grieves the loss of her friend.
Weekend adventures with friends!
Betty, the lovely old lady at church who said "I'm so excited you're here, I wish I could offer you a cookie!"

I'm not sure what that nun would say about my life now. Maybe she'd say 'I'm still in it.' Maybe not. Nevertheless, in small ways I'm learning to find joy and be thankful. Albeit, ever so slowly. But, at least there's nothing fake about it.

Bravery and other rarities.

2011-06-15T15:47:00.000-07:00

Early last month I had the privilege of attending Fuller Seminary's Preaching and Justice Conference called Mighty Waters.

I heard about it through Tina, who heard about it through Una, who posted about it on Facebook.

Tina's reaction to the two day line up was something like, "It's like they took all of my heroes and put them in one conference!"

Gary Haugen and Bethany Hoang (International Justice Mission)
Eugene Cho (One Days Wages)
Brenda Salter McNeil (President of Salter McNeil & Associates, Former IV staff)
Eric Metaxas (Wrote the William Wilberforce biography that inspired Amazing Grace, the movie)
Mark Labberton (Fuller's Director of the Ogilvie Institute of Preaching)
and Sara Groves (leading worship).

Um, yes, please!

I attended with 4 of my friends and fellow IV staffers. It was AMAZING, to say the least. There are few things that continue to stay with me since the three day affair.

Reframing the way I understand "justice"
What comes to mind when you think of justice?
Hell-fire and brimstone? A tween girls clothing shop? Helping the poor?

Well, Mark Labberton defined it as "the right ordering of power. When ordered correctly, it gives life. When unjust, it corrupts. God longs for human flourishing. God sees the marginalized, lost, enslaved, and says 'this is not right'." This helps me remember justice isn't an add-on to faith. It is to permeate all that I do, think, and am. Seeking justice is about living a life that seeks to help others flourish and break the barriers that keep human flourishing from happening.

Am I choosing bravery or safety?
Friday night of the conference was opened up to the public where Gary Haugen spoke and Sara Groves performed. Gary Haugen began by asking, "When do you think the disciples realized following Jesus would be dangerous? When did you?" That question alone still haunts me. He continued...

"The greatest hindrance to truly following Jesus is fear. Jesus is in the business of making people braver, not making their situations safer."

After his inspiring and challenging exhortation, he began a customary Q & A round. A gentleman asked the last question of the evening. He asked if IJM has offices in the Middle East. Through his thick accent, we came to find out that his own sister was trafficked in his home country of Iran and is said to be somewhere in Saudi Arabia. 'Please, is there anything you can do?', he pleaded, 'I have much bravery to give'. Those words stay with me. I hope I do to.

About Women...
Looking at the line up at this preaching conference, I was already blessed to see gifted women given space to lead and influence (considering there are many male pastors out there who wouldn't dare share the pulpit with them). I found myself thankful for Fuller's intentionality in this, however, the most affirming moment for me was when Eugene Cho opened his preaching with a word of affirmation and advocacy for these women.

"How important it is that we have the voices of women in the church and to think we are still struggling with this issue in the church is just tragic...that there is a portion of the church that is missing out of the gifts of women."

These words were SO affirming to hear. As a woman in leadership. As a woman in a room full of men. As a leader in the church and witness on campus.
Thank you, Eugene Cho.

InterVarsity staff at Mighty Waters, posing with Eugene Cho.

In a day and age when just about anyone can grab their five minutes of fame, we need to choose our heroes wisely.

This photo represents just that.
In fact, this conference represented just that.

Conferences come and go.
Author and professor, Bobby Clinton, once said that if you even apply one thing within a month of a conference you attend, you are ahead of the pack.

Taking some time today to reflect and write is one way I'm trying to continue digesting what I learned and aiming to live it out with bravery.

Why I Run

2011-05-23T14:11:00.000-07:00

Whoops. I guess I published this yesterday, half-finished, on accident.

In a moment of exhaustion, after yesterday's half marathon, I came here to jot some of the thoughts that ran through my head as I ran 13 miles downtown.

I thought about a lot of things during my 2+ hours of running, but at one point, (likely, right before the hill or when my foot went numb or when my knee ached...) I began to think about all the reasons why I keep doing this running thing.

For goodness sake, I'm not a natural runner. People raise their eyebrows a bit when I tell them that, yes, I'm running the half marathon...not the relay, not attending as a cheer-er...though I've done and love both of those roles too!

Rather than clean up (ie. edit/wordsmith) my list, I'll keep it as it was....Here's the list I came up with during my run. Reasons that keep me running.

I run because I can.
I run past tiny girls (walking) to show that running not easy and you do have to train (but anyone can do it).

I run to prove that girls who spit can still be sexy.

I run for my health.

I run for my sanity.

I run because I don't want to be photographed as a walker.

I run by choice but know that there are others in the world who are running for their lives or running from violence or walk more miles than I'm running to get access to clean water each day. I run with them.

I run because in running, I remember that pain is not my problem, it's how I respond to pain.

I run because it gives me space to think and feel and pray.

I run for the feeling in the pit of my stomach that strikes minutes before the buzzer goes off at the start and for the way my heart races seconds before I cross the finish line and for all the eyebrows that raise when I say, yes, I'm a runner.

In December, I still hope to run a full marathon. That's 26.2 miles. At this point, I can't imagine yesterday's half marathon as the mid-point of a race, but in light of that goal, I also kept telling myself "You got this...this is just one of many 13+ mile training runs to come this year..."

**In the interest of self-disclosure, I find it necessary to also confess that it was indeed Justin Bieber's Baby that carried me around the bend of mile 3 and Eminem's edited version of Till I Collapse that carried me through mile 9 (Thanks Rob for that).

There you go.

love.ly & amazing

2011-05-05T16:07:00.000-07:00

I am always being inspired. It happens all the time.

While I’m driving. While I’m on a run. Sometimes it happens in the middle of a conversation, in which case I have to work hard to keep my facial muscles from giving away the fact that, for a moment, I stopped listening and drifted into the land of inspiration.

I’m a classic ENFP and love new ideas.

So, when I come across something creative online, I want to save it. When I have a hilarious conversation with a friend over lunch, I want to remember it. When a song lyric speaks to me, I want to store it forever.

Oh, how I’ve longed to find a place to keep these treasures, somewhere.

A couple weeks ago, I came across this graphic and loved the simple layout of Tumblr.

If Blogger is like a leather-bound journal, Tumblr is more like a post-it note or a paperclip, to remind you of all the amazing and creative things out there you don't want to forget, but don't have to time to fully process...yet.

So, keeping in step with my love for shiny, new things...I decided to create my own pensive, er...I mean Tumblr.

Really I just wanted a place, online, to collect my random assortment of quotes, links, photos and conversations that I want to remember.

It's not meant to replace this blog, where I will continue to write, confess, process, dream, ramble and share everyday stories from life in my shoes... but hopefully it will become my place to collect the lovely & amazing things that inspire me in the meantime.

love.ly & amazing

enjoy.

Manifesto

2011-04-27T01:04:00.000-07:00

I came across the graphic below on another artist's blog. I love what it has to say and I was struck by the fact that it was written by three guys. Dave, Mike and Fabian, to be exact. And that it was titled "The Holstee Manifesto".

For a moment, I wonder, are they brothers? Is Holstee their last name and if not, what, then, does it mean?

I digress.

I like the idea of a manifesto. Your motives, as concrete as, well, concrete. It's like the sage advice you wish someone would whisper in your ear at the moment you're about to give in, give up or give out.

One day, I'd love to write my own manifesto. The reasons why I do the things I do, the values that guide my life, and my motives for the future.

A manifesto that will send a shiver down the spine of my fears and worries. That will bring me to my feet, in action, or out my door or onto a plane. One that, when looking back, will remind me why it was all worth it.

Until then, I'll be encouraged by Dave, Mike and Fabian and wonder how three (maybe) brothers managed to whisper the right words in my ear tonight at just the right time.

*If you really love their manifesto too, you can buy it on recycled paper made from elephant poo. Yes, friend, I just went there. That's as recycled and natural as it gets.

Rocks in my Shoe

2011-04-15T13:55:00.000-07:00

I fell in love in 1989...with the show Doogie Howser, MD.

While I loved the idea of a child genius doctor living in an adult world, what I really fell in love with was (cue music) "the wrap up".

Whatever challenging obstacles, unresolved antics, or ridiculous twists that TV life threw Doogie's way, I always knew that in 28 minutes, the music would cue...he'd sit down at his computer...and begin 'the wrap up'. With each reflective word, he'd bring closure and rest to the chaos of his life, and end with whatever life lessons he learned through it.

How quickly I learned that in life, more often than not, there is no wrap up.

No one is following me (or you) around with a boom box, cued and ready to go with such the perfect melody that would cause you to look longingly out of a window, while you smile to yourself, realizing whatever you had just gone through was worth the lesson.

I learned that closure doesn't always happen 28 minutes into life throwing it's curve balls.

Oh, how I wish it were so, at times.

Sometimes life's lessons are so unclear, that it will take a lifetime to ponder the "why's?".

Why hard things happen?
Why there is suffering in the world?
Why we have to go through painful things in life?

Yesterday, I ran 9 miles. With the exception of about 8 minutes in the middle, all in all, it was about 2 hours of pain.

During the run, I almost got hit by a car once, spit on myself twice and my podcast froze, forcing me to look longingly out the proverbial window of life as I ran and began to ponder these 'why's'.

And then I got a rock in my shoe.

It happened around mile 4. It was so irritating I had to stop and take it out. What I thought had to be the size of a marble was only the size of a little candy Nerd.

"There", I thought, "much better."

I continued on running, thinking, praying, and trying to 'push past the pain'.

Between mile 7 and 8 I got another rock in my shoe.

It was just as irritating, but for some reason I decided not to stop and take it out.

Not because I didn't want to lose time on my impressive (read: sarcasm) pace.
Not because I didn't want to slow my running partner, Noemi, down.
Not even because I was 'in the zone' and could no longer feel the rock.

But, because, when I noticed the rock, I had been praying.

Praying for a friend who is battling cancer.

Praying for my very close uncle who is in the hospital.

Praying for a young friend who was recently widowed.

Praying for the pain of poverty so many of my City College students are coming from.
Praying for the poverty of my own soul.

Though I felt the pain of the rock in my shoe, I was also aware of the pain in the rest of my body.

Running is painful. Taking the rock out would alleviate a little bit of the pain, but it's not like it would transform my body to feel though it were floating from cloud to cloud in a ethereal, angelic state.

Nope. Running would still be painful. Hard. Frustrating. Exhausting.

There is nothing I can do, short of changing the laws of gravity, to make running any less painful. I can only become stronger.

If the biggest pain in my life right now is a little rock in my shoe, I'm okay with that.

I realized that mine was the least of battles being fought on this day. I let that pain fuel my prayers.

I used that rock to remind me that in this season of my life, the best thing I can do is not numb myself to the pain around me. Not escape it with another episode of 30 Rock. Not wish it away with 'happy thoughts' or positive thinking.

The best thing I can do, right now, is to bring these rocks of life, to the foot of the cross. So I do.

And as I do, I notice that there, at the foot of the cross, are drips of blood. Jesus' blood. Drips of His passion. His suffering.

Running with my eyes glued to the ground, I emotionally kneel before Jesus. Humbled, desperate, with a lump in my throat. Afraid that if I sat still long enough to wonder where He is in all this pain and suffering around me, I might find out He isn't there.

Before I fall into that rabbit hole of hopelessness, something compels me to look up.

That's when I see...that Jesus is here. In the pain. In the suffering. On the cross.

That HE, of all, can relate.

And with that, I spend the last mile and a half, praying for my friends and family. Praying for hope and miracles. Praying for peace. Thanking Him for this season of intercession, for the ability to feel the wind on my face as I run, for the rocks in my shoe (and my life), and the tears they cause.

For, these tears teach me more than any television show wrap up can.

How a UCLA girl's rant may have screwed up her life in minutes.

2011-03-13T23:32:00.000-07:00

That's all it took, a 2 minute, 52 second You Tube video by a student ranting about Asians at UCLA, and her life will never be the same.

That's the power of the internet.

Four hours ago, a UCLA student supposedly uploaded a video to her own You Tube channel complaining of such things, and in what may have been intended as some sort of 'dear diary' video and turned out to be a despicably lowbrow and outright offensive rant, especially her crass imitation of an Asian talking on the phone and her commentary of the Tsunami in Japan.

Though she was said to have deleted it from her personal You Tube channel quickly, someone else has uploaded it online and released her name, thus making her infamous and now newsworthy, in the TMZ sense of the word.

In that time, someone's also already created a fake Facebook profile in her name. Another person has remixed her rant to a techno beat, nothing worth busting out your glow sticks for. That remix has had more hits than the original. Ironically, there are probably a lot of people out there who will try to make some money off this girl. Oh my, seriously, since I began tying this, someone else has already released a hip-hop version. I wonder how many others are firing up their Mac's right now, hoping to make the next Auto-Tune sensation hit.

I wonder what the UCLA girl is thinking right now, as she is watching these events unfold? Is she in shock? Is she justifying or down playing her actions?

As my roommate and I watched the video, our shock grew with every second.

We began to talk about what repercussions this action may have in years to come, personally and professionally.

Think about it, five years ago this would have been released on her Xanga blog where, maybe, her 50 friends and their 50 friends may have seen it. What a difference 5 years can make.

Today, thanks to reposting and You Tube, this video is being passed back and forth among Facebook, Twitter, and the blogosphere galore. In the last hour alone, the number of You Tube 'dislikes' went from 1,530 to 6,195...and it's still rising.

I wonder what kind of backlash she'll face tomorrow on campus.

I wonder if she'll end up having to leave 'her school' if things get ugly.

I wonder how she'll respond.

And how will the Asian American student population at UCLA respond?

There are already some response videos posted on You Tube, by both Asian and non-Asian students alike. Some wonder if she'll be expelled.

Do you think she should be?

Some are defending her comments, citing freedom of speech. Others are unknowingly exposing their own racist attitudes, as they applaud her.

I wonder if 10 years from now, when this girl is in her 30's, getting ready for a job interview, if this 2 minute, 52 second video, filmed 10 years prior, will come back to haunt her. I hope not, but unlike people, the internet doesn't discriminate and is unforgiving.

My hope is that 'UCLA girl' and her rant will open up a greater conversation about racial attitudes, especially on our college campuses.

Through this, I hope that Asians, Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders in the US will advocate for one another and give voice to the many stories that make up the pan-Asian experience in America. Stories full of 'dreams, hard work, prejudice, discrimination, persistence, and triumph.'

I hope that all of us will be able to search our own hearts to unearth the toxic thoughts, judgements, and attitudes hidden within us, whether or not they leak on You Tube, that break down others and lift up our own culture, experience and selves as more worthy. A soul sickness for which there is only one antidote, one of grace.

As for you, Alexandra, as an Asian American, I forgive you.
I hope that these 3 minutes of your day do not ruin the rest of your life.

This time around.

2011-03-05T14:21:00.000-08:00

When I woke up today, I'll admit, I wasn't full of faith.
Have you ever felt that way, knowing some deadline had come that you just weren't ready for?

Today was the day of the Blossom Trail 10k. I'd signed up for it in January with the hopes of training all of February. I did run, but I didn't train well. Once I'd laced up my running shoes and hit the trails, I realized that taking a 4 month hiatus from running wasn't a good idea. I'd lost a lot of my momentum and whatever speed I had.

Nevertheless, I didn't give up. I just readjusted my expectations and put one foot in front of the other.

A year ago, 6.2 miles seemed less daunting. I'd been running consistently for months, with a few 4, 5, and 6 mile runs under my belt.

This time around, I merely held on to the memories, that at one point in time I had run those distances...shoot I had run 10 miles in the rain without stopping. I knew I had it in me.

BUT. (There's always a but, right?)

But, this time around, I hadn't run more than 3 miles without stopping. And here I was, going to run 6.2 miles, among other runners, in front of a crowd. Geesh. Talk about psyching myself out, right?

I knew that my battle was mental more than physical.

I can hold such high expectations of myself that, really, I can feel deflated so easily. I also don't like pain, so it's easier to stop whatever I'm doing that causes pain than to push through it.

As we pulled up to the race, I let go of any expectations for speed or time and just committed to run the whole thing without stopping or walking.

And that I did.

I ran all 6.2 miles and it felt great.

There were a few things, this time around, that helped me along the way.

First, I drove the course yesterday. This was really helpful! I made mental notes of where the third (white blossom farm), halfway (sharp turn right), and 6 mile markers (water tower and beautiful stone church) were.

It also helps when you are running in great company!

The Dixon's, a racing family!

My running buddy, Noemi

I also made a lyPod playlist. In attempting to make this playlist, I also learned most the music I actually own is too slow to run to. Most, but not all. Having good music was really helpful!

At one point in the race I found myself trotting a little faster, pushing through a long bend, as I sang the lyrics to "The Cave" by Mumford & Sons.

But I will hold on hope.... And I'll find strength in pain.

There's also something very serene about running through all the cherry and almond blossoms fields that just invites your mind to wander.

I found myself thinking about my my brother, as I heard the song "Sigh No More."

Love, it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free. Be more like the man you were made to be.

I know, serious Mumford kick right now.

I found myself thinking about love as I listened to Tyrone Well's "Wondering Where You Are."

Will you like to watch the sunrise? Will you have blue or brown eyes? What are the dreams you long to share? I hope you like Stevie Wonder. Are you afraid of thunder? I close my eyes and say a prayer you're out there somewhere.

This on the heels of closing the door to a fellow I'd been getting to know this past month.

As I ran, I found myself just thinking about how lovely creation is, as the sunlight poured through the beautiful blossoms.

I'm not one to 'live in my head' as my roommate describes her introverted self. (I mean what kind of person can run without an ipod for an hour?!) But, with my music in the background, I did enjoy the space for my mind to mull over this season of my life.

It has been one full of life and risks and joys and pain.

And, this time around, that's right where I want to be.

The other Gibson.

2011-02-24T00:24:00.000-08:00

It's not the first time I've gone to a concert alone, though, the last time was a little more comedic, in a 'i just tripped and fell on my face' kind of way. This time around was different. A little more refreshing.

I just got back from hearing Laura Gibson and Rocky Votoloto play at the Neighborhood Thrift cafe.

I pulled up to see the line was wrapped around the building, and was full of plaid shirts, mustaches, skinny jeans and hipster girlfriends with little pugs (ok, just one).

I parked, walked up, took my place in line....and began to feel a little old.

In front of me, a group of five kids, who all seemed to be sharing the same cigarette, talked about how 'f-ing messed up' something was. All I could do was stare at the pug in her arms and smile.

Behind me was a girl with blunt, straight across bangs. I admired her bangs and noticed she wasn't making eye contact with the group in front of her or behind her... she was there ALONE! I began to wonder how I could make her my new line friend, thus turning her into my new Laura Gibson/Rocky Votoloto show friend.

I glanced a couple times. No luck.

I smiled. Nothing.

I considered the line 'are you here alone?' and wondered if that would be a little creepy? Not a second later, I saw flailing arms in front of me. Her friends had found her and all of my conspiring came to an end.

The doors opened. We went in.

I liked the venue, a medium-sized, warehouse-esque cafe. I took a seat in the back, knowing my desire was to play it chill and just enjoy the music. No need in me to be in the 'front row', which in this setting meant just standing 7 inches away from the singer at eye level. Fine when you're 16, for everyone else...awkward.

The show began.

I have been listening to Laura Gibson's music for over a year. Her voice is very delicate, and even when she was doing a sound check, before she began to play, the whole place quieted down to listen.

Then it happened.

During her set, my new friends showed up! Yes, dear reader, I have new friends in Fresno! Take a moment to let this sink in.

Don't get me wrong, these aren't my only Fresno friends, but they are new friends I'm enjoying getting to know! We met around a month ago and they are yo pro's. (A term I got from Tina).

There are a couple reasons why this photo is so lovely to me.

First of all, it's a photo with Laura Gibson. She's the tall one next to me. Second, I would never have taken a photo with her, but things like that are easier to do in the company of friends.

The rest of the evening was filled with great music, great company, and a couple of great photos.

By the end of the night, I no longer felt old or preppy or alone.

I just felt really happy.

Feeling the love.

2011-02-14T07:03:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day, NPR style.

♥

28 days.

2011-02-01T18:02:00.000-08:00

I love challenges, rather, I'm motivated by them. It's true.

A few years ago, on sabbatical, I had the opportunity to participate in an assessment which helped me figure out just that... what motivates me. It was two months full of essays, interviews, observations and conversations. The result concluded with a pretty little document all about me.

The closing paragraph included this:

Layla is motivated when she has the opportunity to put her energy toward a sustained effort, meeting challenges and solving problems which lead to meeting a goal.

This might explain why, in December, I challenged myself to blog everyday for a month. And I did.

This might explain why, in January, I didn't have any sugary sweets or snacks. No chocolate, no ice cream, no sweet treats.

This will explain why in February I plan to 'tackle' my coffee / caffeine addiction.

I wasn't always addicted. In fact, I didn't always even like drinking coffee much. Two things helped change that.

This was one:
(cherished gift from students)

This was the other:
(freshly brewed every morning at the White's)

Today was my first caffeine-free day. I anticipated a bad headache today, and for good reason, since I went without coffee one day last month and got hit pretty bad with one.

It's also why I knew I wanted to start a detox soon.

Surprisingly I didn't get a headache today, which was amazing since I had a full day of meetings with students, supervisors, and friends, but I have felt the difference.

I'm not sure, yet, if I'll choose a different thing next month. I'm not even really sure if I've got some deeper conviction behind this.

All I know is that I'm aware over-indulgence isn't always good...that moderation is likely best...I am motivated by challenges....

...and, oh, that I'm glad there are only 28 days in February!

One heckva ride.

2011-01-15T08:40:00.000-08:00

I wonder if they knew I had a figurative Kimono in my suitcase.

As my friends and I stepped onto the St. Louis Metro at the airport, it was quite empty. We spread out around the train car with our luggage in tow. I popped a squat, swinging my legs into the aisle, shoved my luggage near the inside seat and chatted with my friends.

I didn't pay any attention when, the closer we got to the city, our Metro rail car filled up.

I didn't pay any attention when the young guy sat in the row behind me.

I did pay attention when this kid began fidgeting with something, a baggie.... full of...what?

I could no longer resist, my curiosity got the best of me. Since I was sitting, facing the aisle, it just took a short turn of my head to see what he was doing.

What was he doing? Packing and unpacking his baggie full of... pot. Ten or so smaller baggies inside the bigger one. Unless he's in the Weight Watchers version of Pot Smoking, with pre-portioned hits for the week, I'm guessing he was dealing. Just as quickly as my eyes widened, they averted to whatever I could find. He began to chat me up asking me where I was from. As he exited on the next stop, I pulled my knees in to let him pass, wondering what life was like for him, watching him as he stepped off the train.

People continued to shuffle on and off.

The train filled up once more.

In walked a young African American gentleman in his twenties. Reserved. He sat across from me and flashed a polite smile. As I returned the polite smile another guy walked in. This one not so gentlemanly. He was in his late fifties, very large, disheveled and seemingly drunk.

"Who gonna give me a seat? I needa sit...whoo gonna get up and give me a seat?" he shouted to the full train.

Before I could even contemplate whether I could scoot my luggage in and free up the seat next to me, the young gentleman stood up.

Since I was sitting facing the ailse and since he was spilling into the aisle, he ended up being only a foot away from me. And there I was, now facing him.

I moved my knees forward.

"Hey..... Hey... (motioning with his hand for me to lean in)...hey come here!"

I shook my head.

Motioning again and saying "Hey... I need to whisper something."

I shook my head once more.
"I don't whisper with strangers," I explained.

"But how am I gonna tell you something? I gotta whisper so no one hears..."

I noticed the young gentleman, who'd given up his seat, glancing my way at this.

"Sorry, I don't whisper with strangers."

"I watch dirty movies." he confessed with a snicker.

"And that's why I don't whisper with strangers," I confirmed.

More people began to glance my way. With his bulging eyes, leery look, and slurred speech, he continued to snicker and mutter things to me.

At this point, the young gentleman, who witnessed this exchange, along with the others in this standing room only train car, spoke up.

"Hey, you should leave her alone. It's obvious she doesn't want to talk to you. Just leave her alone."

Big drunk guy began yelling "I'm a gangsta. I'm a gangsta! Don't mess with me, I'll mess you up."

I considered saying "...because you're a gangster, right?" but opted not to.

But then young gentleman didn't back down and they began to argue.

I began to envision an 'all hell broke loose' kind of fight and I began to intervene.

In my diplomatic, leader voice... "We're cool here, guys. We're cool." I mouthed "Thank you" to the young gentleman and gave him an agreeing nod. "It's done, we're good."

Guess what. It was done.

The train stopped, they both shuffled off and a seat opened up next to Mandy and she called me over. She was three rows away, in the last set of seats, where that train car connected to another, leaving a standing room only area that was full.

One guy didn't understand why I was moving away from the nearest door, towards him, with my luggage in tow. As I took Mandy's free seat, he wound up standing right next to my seat. Again, due to my luggage, I ended up swinging my knees into the aisle.

"Are you guys with that group in town? Are you here for that conference?"

I noded. I could hardly register his words, still internally processing what could have just happened a few moments before.

"Oh yeah, I just met a bunch of you guys from your group. You're going to have a great week here."

He had salt and pepper hair, in his late fifties (not drunk though). He was dressed professionally, like a salesman. I don't know if he'd witnessed the previous exchange, but he chatted away as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, you guys are going to have a great week here." He then slipped a small piece of paper in my lap. Before I had a chance to see what it said, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, his voice lower, "Here's my number, give me call me anytime."

It had his name and phone number written on it.

I think I said, "oh, uh, thank you."

I think my body language said, "I DON'T WHISPER WITH STRANGERS!"

A older woman sitting near me, who looked like she oozed street smarts, asked me, "Are you from a city?"

I looked through her for a second, trying to take in all that had just happened, and gave her a quizzical look.

"I'm from Las Vegas." I said quietly, tired.

"Oh, you'll be fine, honey. Many people come to St. Louis, from small towns, and they think it's all sweet and fine here. Then they get here and they don't have street smarts. But you'll be fine."

The train came to a stop, and with that sage word, I grabbed my luggage and emerged from the train, for my week in downtown St. Louis wondering what else was in store.

Obsessed with Facebook?

2011-01-13T20:10:00.000-08:00

You are not alone...

Cool Graphic via Agency Spy.

Photos and Kimonos.

2011-01-04T22:56:00.000-08:00

Another drive with my mom means more stories for my bloggy (and you).

Seriously, my main motivation for writing these things is because I am certain one day my memory will fail me. And when it does, I will have these stories to turn to. In the meantime, I will also have a few good laughs.

Today was a funny day overall.

Partially because I set up a photo shoot for my family at the park. My gift for them. Everyone was on edge just a little because they wanted to look really nice, but everyone had different ideas of what nice was.

My dad thought nice meant a 3 piece suit.

My mom felt she should wear her Christmas sweater.

My brother thinks he looks good all the time, so he wasn't worried.

And I wanted everyone to be comfortable (and happy) so I wore my smile.

I'm so glad it was my good friend, Kendra, taking the photos and not some stuffy photographer. She put my family at ease and has mad skills!

Things were going great... until we were all heading back to our cars. My mom whispered to my dad, my dad looked at me. I knew something was up.

My mom wanted to know if Kendra could take one more photo... with HER little point and shoot camera!

Oh my.

I mean Kendra had just finished taking a bazillion shots and she did it with her fancy camera with the killer lens. And here's my mom handing her the point and shoot. Never mind that very soon we'll be getting these amazing photos from Kendra, which will be forever ours. I almost wish she'd waited after Kendra left and asked the guy walking his dog to take it...but nope.

Kendra was a great sport.

I find life is easier if I stop fighting it and just let my family be who they are...and love them for it.

The infamous "unofficial" shot

Even though I was a little embarrassed, my smile is real, because it was not only the end to a great photo shoot with my family, but also a really great visit with them too!

Tomorrow, I hop on a plane for St. Louis for 5 days then back to Fresno. A few hours after me, my brother hops on a plane back home to New York.

I've been blessed with these two weeks in Vegas!

I'm also excited for my trip to St. Louis. (It's for InterVarsity's National Staff Conference and they do an amazing job loving on us there!) Over 1000 of us will gather there. I've got some specific questions I'm pondering that I'm hoping the space, teachings, conversations and reflection will give me clarity on.

But it's bittersweet leaving home.

I'll miss my parents. I'll miss our drives. I'll miss the random stories.

Today, as my mom and I were running errands after the photo shoot, she began to tell me about a photo shoot she took part in when she was in her 20's. I braced myself, because my mom's got a crazy past and has traveled all over the world as a professional dancer (Japanese dance).

She told me that when she was in her 20's in Japan, a friend, photographer, asked to take her photos. He was a real artist, so nothing shady happened (phew) but the photos he took of her were entered into a national contest and won!

All the winners where published in a book and her's was the main photograph featured.

Naturally, I asked if she had a copy of the book and she didn't. (She didn't get any prize money either.) It was the 60's and she was a showgirl at the time and had lots of photo shoots back then. It didn't cross her mind to keep it.

Which is funny because she's got almost every copy of People magazine and National Geographic since 1983, but to each her own, I guess.

We started talking about Japan and I mentioned that the next time I go I'd love to get a kimono. I've got some from when I was a kid, but I'd love an adult one. I tried on my friend's when I visited her a couple years ago. It was beautifully ornate.

She knew the one. She began to tell me that when the kimono has really long arms, it's like a sign to the young men that you're single and available. You'd wear a kimono like that to a wedding or formal party so that all the cute guys know they can chat with you.

So, now I'm really wondering where I can get my hands on one of these asap and if it will fit in my suitcase?

It's only fair...

2011-01-02T23:55:00.000-08:00

It's only fair that if I get a new look, so does my bloggy.

I'd like to say it was a quick breeze to switch over, but it was a pain in the tush.

It took about 3 hours, learning a new language (html), and keeping my obsessive/perfectionist tendacies at bay as long as I could. About 3 minutes.

For some reason, the template I got screwed up the font in all of my blog posts. I'd like to meet the person who would not care if half their blog was in Times, font size small and the other half was in Verdana, font size normal.

So, surely, with my artistic hat on, I decided to go through each post (90 total) and change the font manually.

I also decided that Verdana, font size normal no longer fit the new look. I decided Helvetica, size large was much better.

This decision single handedly stole 2 hours from my life. Thankfully I was able to multi-task, hang out with my dad and watch a movie too.

Overall, I'm happy with the new look... and the new year so far.

my new do.

2011-01-02T20:29:00.000-08:00

I love my friend Ashley. She's my hair stylist and she one of the few people in the world I can trust my head of hair.

I don't mean to sound so vain, but being biracial, having both Lebanese and Japanese textured hair, means that I've got a unique head of hair.

I've learned this fact the hard way.

Oh, if you only knew the hair tales I could tell you.

Quickly, I'll give you my top 3:

#3
I was getting my hair cut at Fantastic Sam's. I had a junior high problem. My bangs parted in the middle...all the time. This was when huge, teased bangs were popular, so now clearly you understand my dilemma. I asked the stylist if there was anything to be done. 25 minutes later I left Fantastic Sam's not so fantastic. I looked like a poodle. Her solution to not having bangs that parted was to chop off my bangs so they were an inch long and stood straight up! I'm glad to say I don't have any pictures of this. A week later I permed my hair hoping to solve the bangs issue.

#2
That dang perm! Now I really looked like a poodle. Needless to say, I survived junior high with a ton of bobby pins, braids and lots of Aqua Net.

#1
My dad learned how to cut hair in Paris in order to immigrate to be a stylist in Texas. One day I was complaining of split ends. He had a solution, a French technique. Did I mention he didn't work as a stylist very long? The technique: section hair into small twists and light the tips of each twist on FIRE! Put it out right away, ideally, getting rid of your split ends. Unfortunately, it also gets rid of the tips of your hair too. I sported a short haircut for a few years after that instance...and began my search for a great and trustworthy stylist!

Enter Ashley.

I actually met her through another friend, a great stylist, who moved away. She referred me to Ashley and it's been hair heaven ever since.

I love the feeling of a fresh haircut.

I love that Ashley let's me verbally process what I want to do with my hair without killing me. Today was all about long or short cut...and the possibility of blunt, straight across bangs.

I love that when all I say is I want a killer haircut, she always delivers!

I love the fun conversations we have. Stylists are to women as what bartenders were to the 80's.

Finally, I love going to Ashley with Deedee. It's a solid 3 hours of catching up, feeling pretty, and walking out with styled, bouncy hair.

Grown Out Do.

Happy Hair.

*This Haircut is brought to you by Deedee, my lovely friend, who treated me to a wonderful day of feeling pretty! My head of hair thanks you.

01-01-11

2011-01-01T19:49:00.000-08:00

a new day.

a new year.

and tomorrow...

a new haircut!

I found a cool website called Wordle that will create word clouds from any text you give it. You can also give it your blog address and it will automatically create one, pulling from your often used words.

I thought it would be cool to see what words it gleaned from my blog over the past two years.

When it popped up I was surprised to see HOPE in huge letters.

Then I thought, yep, that's about right.

Here's to the beginning of another great year full of hope, faith and love.

A letter from me to me

2010-12-31T18:15:00.000-08:00

Hi Layla.

This is 'past you' writing to 'future you' on the last day of 2010.

My hope is this letter will remind you of where you've come from and re-calibrate you to where you wanted to go in the past year.

First and foremost, remember the lessons you learned in 2010?
Remember when you saw God perform miracles last year? Healing your uncle, healing you. Have you been living in light of that reality? That God can do the impossible. I hope so.

Don't be discouraged if, even right now, you (still) have unanswered prayers on your heart. They don't ever go unheard. Just remember to be faithful and continue to give those prayers (whether they are for you or anyone else) to God. Do not fear, have faith.

Also, by now you'll have not only run two half marathons, but a full marathon too. Wow, I'm so proud of you. You better not be beating yourself up over how well you did or if you could have done better. REMEMBER to celebrate victories! You reached an amazing goal...and you're are likely healthier for it.

I hope you blogged a ton this year too! Remember how much fun last December was with your blogging challenge. Also, are you out of debt yet? Yeah, I just went there.

And, did you remember to love others well this year? The best way you can do that is to practice being you. Don't be some ridiculous version of you, you think you need to be. As you do, let others be themselves too. Love them for it.

Oh, did you take risks this year? Remember your prayer, this last day of 2010, for the Lord to open your heart to love as He loves, forgive as you want to be forgiven, and with hope and trust, stepping out in faith

You're a learner, keep learning. About yourself, and others and running, and photography, and hosting, and healthy living, and God, and history, and traveling, and all the things you love.

It seems like just yesterday that past you wrote this letter to future you, I know. I hope that as you read it you can take a moment to remember your hopes and dreams. I hope that you love where God has you. I hope you have great love in your life. I hope that you are full of joy and hope.

And that on this last day of 2011, you can look back at your year and have much to be thankful for and celebrate!

Now, go on, and party like it's 2012!

Love you for you,
Layla

PS. Write me back.

Happy Birthday Adel

2010-12-30T17:10:00.001-08:00

You were born at 8:25am, so a birthday (pan)cake seems fitting!

So glad you're my brother... you keep life interesting.

11 Things (Part Two)

2010-12-30T17:10:00.000-08:00

What are 11 things your life doesn't need in 2011? (Part two)

Not my photo, but sure like it!

5. Distractions
There was an interview on NPR yesterday about our addiction to technology and a discovery to why we feel the incessant need to check our smart phones at a stop light, check our emails before bed, etc... the reason: BOREDOM. Our inability to deal with being still often leads us to distract ourselves, keep busy with technology. Guilty. In 2011, I want to be mindful, and intentional, and then I'll check my lyPhone.

4. A Deficit
Over the past two years, several things have happened. The economy tanked, expenses increased, and I went from being the only staff at UNLV to being the Fresno Area Director (and only staff at Fresno City College). The result, I ended 2010 with a deficit. I'm so thankful for the support team I do have. As I read many of my ministry friend's newsletters, both within and outside of InterVarsity, I recognize that this is common across the board. My prayer, BIG prayer, is that in 2011, that not only will the deficit be cleared, but I will end 2011 with a surplus...that God would provide in such a way that only He can. If I learned anything in 2010, is that He works miracles!

3. Worrying
"Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?"- Jesus (Mt 6:27)
No, but I sure seem to think so sometimes. I'd like to try and do that a little less in 2011. Maybe this will help.

2. Advertisements
A couple friends of mine have a healthy habit of muting commercials when they watch television. I'm a marketing executives dream...I see commercials, read magazines, look at billboards...and absorb their subtle messages of what I should look like, buy, need, or feel. I'm foolish if I'm not proactive! Consider me unsubscribed.

1. Disappointment
This trips me up more than anything. My unrealistic expectations keep me disappointed with myself. My unmet expectations keep me disappointed with God and others. This past year, my biggest prayer was that "the God of hope would fill me with all joy and peace as I trusted in Him, so that I would overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit". That's my prayer for 2011 too!

Call this a wish list. Call it a prayer.
Call it a page from my journal.
There you go.

Now, here's to 2011.

What are 11 things your life doesn't need in 2011? (Part 1)

2010-12-29T23:59:00.000-08:00

I've had a couple friends take part in Reverb10 this December. It's a daily reflective writing project. I liked this question because I'm so used to thinking about what my life needs and not what I can get rid of for a better one.

So, here's my attempt of 11 things my life doesn't need in 2011
(I am writing this in 2 parts for a couple reasons. First, it's late and I'm sleepy... Second, it's actually really hard to think of 11 things... Third, I really want to blog today (as part of my blogging challenge)... so, here's part one:

11. Debt
Carrying around dumb debt (which would be like credit card debt vs. student loans or mortgage) is like trying to run with 20 pound ankle weights. It's a drag and keeps you from getting to where you want to go. I don't have much debt, but in 2011, I don't want any!

10. Pessimism.

I heard this quote once, "I don't see the glass half empty, I see it as half full...just full of poison." Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy. I can be sensitive to criticism or overly self-critical. I imagine worst case scenarios. I get paralyzed by fear. It's not hopeful. It's not trusting. In 2011, I want to be hopeful, trusting, and optimistic.

9. Running late
I've always been chronically 10 minutes late to anything. I don't like rushing to get ready. I don't estimate travel times well. I schedule things back to back. I don't like the feeling from arriving late to a meeting, walking in late, or my driving when I am running late. I've tried setting my clocks ahead 5, 10, and 24 minutes ahead but that just got confusing. I hope in 2011, I will make better use of my time and not rush so much.

8. Crappy TV Shows
I love watching a great television show, especially in the company of friends. There are some really funny, witty, touching, and thrilling shows right now...and some not so great ones, that are often addicting. I used to have a great routine before bed, I'd read, think, and often fall asleep praying. Thanks to Hulu, that routine's been shot to hell. In 2011, I'd love to be intentional about what great television shows I want to watch next year...and which ones I don't want to get hooked on.

7. Injuries or Sickness
My 2011 goal is to train for a marathon and in the process my hope is to get stronger and healthier. I feel like I've had my fair share (and then some) of colds, allergies, and minor aches and pains this past year. As I approach the first, I feel healthy, and would like it to stay that way!

6. Not getting enough sleep

There's enough evidence out there about the importance of getting a good night's rest. I used to be so, so, so good about getting 8 hours of sleep. I almost always fell asleep reading, before bed, which is way better for your mind (and dreams) than watching tv before bed. I really want to get back to that in 2011.

If only we were ringing in 2006, this would be a complete list.

With that being said, stay tuned for the rest tomorrow...good night!

Christmas Questionnaire

2010-12-28T10:53:00.000-08:00

...via Teri.

What was the best gift you gave?

I never know what to give my dad. He never wants anything. He doesn't enjoy unwrapping gifts. He usually doesn't express liking anything we do give him, though he may. But, he's the kind of guy who always has a spot for everything...and he's into kitchy things. So I found a wood carving at Cost Plus World Market of a nose/mouth and you rest your eyeglasses on top to complete the face. I thought it was hilarious. He did too. Bullseye.

What was the best gift you received?

No one in my family is really good at creating a gift experience. This year especially. Don't get me wrong, they are amazingly generous, just not in the 'get a gift box, make it pretty, and put a bow on it' kind of gift givers. Over the past few years my parent's have been giving us socks and cash. My brother has loved it. I would love it too if it also came with a handmade card or something like that. I'd like to say it's some cultural thing, but I don't think it is. So, I didn't technically open any gifts on Christmas, though my brother promises to mail me something from New York, my mom said she'd buy me a tripod (meaning I get to pick it out and up), and my dad will likely palm me some cash before I return home. All that being said, my best gift has been our time together. Seriously, no fights. No guilt. Just really good memories.

What did your mother-in-law or sibling give you?

Like I said, my brother gave me a verbal promissory note that a gift will be on it's way in January. I love the kid, but I'm not holding my breath. In all honesty, I'd take a handmade coupon to "hangout at the park together for a day' over any NYC pashmina any day. I'd redeem that coupon, asap, too, while it's beautiful outside.

What was a meaningful spiritual memory from Christmas 2010?

I love singing Christmas carols, especially ones with rich lyrics and meaning. I usually switch my radio station in my car to the holiday station beginning the day after Thanksgiving through New Years Day. For some reason, this year, I didn't. Since I've been home, I've been celebrating Advent and Christmas with the local Lebanese parish. I'm sure we sang some Christmas themed hymns, but since everything was in Arabic, I can't be sure. That being said, a meaningful spiritual memory this year, was a moment during mass the week before Christmas, when there was a moment of silence. Just enough silence to be still, be thankful and realize God's work and presence in my family's life.

Best Christmas movie you watched this year?

Besides Stalag 17, the only other Christmas movie I watched this Christmas was Scrooged.

What was the most stressful memory from Christmas 2010?
The most stressful moment was getting a voicemail from one of my best friends. Her dad had a stroke and was in the hospital. In the moment from hearing the message and calling her back, I prayed for a miracle. She was on her way to the hospital and didn't know much. As stressful as it was waiting to hear from her, not having a car to be there with her, not being able to do anything but wait and pray...I knew it didn't compare to what she was feeling. I prayed. I waited for her phone call. For years, my friend and I have anticipated this (something happening to one of our parents) as being one of the scariest things we could experience. It was. Less than an hour later, I got the call. He did suffer a stroke, but it was as mild as could be and did not suffer any damage as a result. Thank you, God.

Best Christmas baking?

Last week my cousin, Desi, and I made Walnut Fudge for the first time ever! It was a fun baking together. Along with that we made oatmeal raisin cookies and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies too.

PS- With the exception of my friend's dad's scare, I've never had a more relaxing Christmas overall. I love that the holidays kicked off with my family visiting me in California. I've had some really great conversations with my brother, mom and dad. I'm shocked there hasn't been any blowout arguments, seriously, best gift ever! I've spent some good time with friends and excited too see more this week. I'm thankful for the amazing InterVarsity support team I've got, including a few new supporters God's raised up this month! I've loved blogging and taking photos this season. And, I just heard that there's the possibility of snow at Red Rocks on Thursday. I'm never in town for falling snow! Oh, let it be so.

How about you? How was your Christmas celebration?

New Year's Resolve

2010-12-27T07:50:00.000-08:00

St. Anthony's Retreat Center, Three Rivers, CA

A new year is dawning...in five days to be exact.

I love new beginnings and beginning new things. I especially love beginning something new on the first of something. First day of the week. First day of the month. And the big whopper...first day of a new year.

This only comes around, well, once a year...so I want to get this right. I know that there is virtually no difference beginning something on the second of January than the first, but they don't call it Day After New Year's Resolution for a reason.

Another thing to know about me is that I love overcoming challenges. I'm not the type to make or keep resolutions that are vague or unmeasurable, like be healthy, be nice, help others. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't plan on drowning my 2011 woes in chocolate, letting my inner-grouch rule, or start tripping old ladies crossing the street. I do want to be healthier, nicer, and more helpful in 2011, but I also want something more specific to pursue.

I want to approach 2011 with some resolve, literally. To come to a definite or earnest decision about something. Resolve. To be determined to do something. Resolve. That's what I've got.

A few days ago I got an email from Rob about running races in 2011. Among the 5k's, 10k's and half marathons, there was a full marathon on Dec 4, 2011.

While I plan on running the 10k and two half marathon's next year, it's the full marathon that jumped out at me. I like that it's in December, giving me a full year to train. I like that it's a huge stinking goal that's on my bucket list. Finally, I like that I can begin training on January 1, 2011.

So, I've resolved that I want to run a full marathon in 2011.

My hope in doing so is that I will become stronger, both physically and mentally, become a better runner, and maybe somehow I'll become healthier, nicer, and a more helpful person in the process.

Nothing says Christmas like...

2010-12-25T23:47:00.000-08:00

...watching a movie with your family during the holidays. Popping popcorn, curling on the couch, and enjoying a heart warming story.

As a kid, they were movies like White Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life, and Christmas Carol. As an older kid, it was A Christmas Story, Scrooged and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. A couple years ago it was all about Elf.

This year was...wait for it...Satlag 17, on DVD, in our living room. Not familiar with Stalag 17? It's a black and white movie made in 1953, set during World War 2. It's about two POW's who are killed trying to escape from the German camp. It's like Hogan Heroes but not as much humor. In all fairness, they try to escape on Christmas Eve.

It was my brother's Christmas gift to my dad. It carried a memory for them. Many, many years ago, my brother and dad bonded over the movie as they watched it together. It was one of my dad's favorites and he let my brother stay up really, really late to watch it with him one night, a treat for a little kid.

In 2010, it would be the year my family enjoyed it together during Christmastime.

Japanese Tales From Long Ago.

2010-12-24T14:27:00.000-08:00

It was supposed to be a quick errand. Drop my brother off at a friend's home. My mom came along. It turned out to be an enlightening conversation with my mom about her family.

Since my mom was the only one in her family to immigrate from Japan to the United States, most of what we know about her family is through her stories. I don't have any memories of my grandparents, the last time we visited her family in Japan was in 1989, and though some of her family has been able to visit, for weeks or months at a time, we've felt the language barrier.

While my mom is extremely talkative, sometimes she's a bit hard to understand. (Combine English language learner with an eager storytelling.) But last night, after we dropped my brother off at his friend's house, my mom began opening up. I knew I needed to do all that I could to take in her story on that drive, as if she was passing a treasure on to me.

It all began when I casually asked her if she was the youngest, middle or oldest child.

My mom with her friends in Japan

I knew she had an older sister. I knew she wasn't as close to her brother as she was with her sister. I knew her brother, some time ago, had lost his best friend. I knew he was so distraught that after the funeral he went to a bar. In Japan, everyone rides bicycles, so on his ride home that evening, I knew he'd had an accident. Rather than pressing the brakes, his foot went into the spoke and he crashed, fracturing his spine and leaving him paralyzed. I knew that since then, he's regained some movement and has an amazing family that takes care of him.

What I didn't know was how old he was. The oldest or the youngest. So I asked.

My mom after she immigrated.

Remind me again if you are the youngest or the oldest, mom?

She's the youngest, which explains why she was the one to leave her home country, travel the world, and is as social as all get-out.

That's when she started to tell me about the oldest, Hideko. I had never heard of Hideko before.

Hideko was my mom's oldest sister. Though she died at the young age of 24, she had been married and had one son. My mom was only 9 at the time, but heard the stories through her other sister and mom, that they were as vivid as real memories. Everyone was devastated. She died from common post-pregnancy complication. This was in rural Japan in the 1950's and I imagine had it been just 10 years later, she might have survived.

What happened to her husband? And to her son?

Almost one year after Hideko's death, her son, a toddler at the time, experienced a tragic accident after falling into a pond on a winter day. He did not survive. Her husband, understandably, was distraught. He fled to the south island of Japan, Kushiro. He disappeared. Years later, he fell in love again with a woman from the island, a Kushiro girl. He went on to become a father again, of two children.

The next story my mom gave freely, without any prompting. It's the story of how Hideko met her husband. It began with my mom's grandmother, Moto, in the early 1900's.

There was a young girl, in my familiy's village, whose parents were trying to force their daughter into child slavery. They were trying to sell her. My great grandmother, long after she'd raised her kids, found the child and rescued her from her fate. She took her in and cared for her as her own. That girl went on to live a full life, getting married and having a son.

That son, many years later, went on to fall in love with and marry Hideko.

My mom and I in Japan.

We arrived to our house and I pressed the button to open the garage, and with that I knew our story time was coming to a close. And what a time it was.

Since I've been home for Christmas, I've been organizing my mom's old photos. Today, as I continue sorting them, absorbing my mother's tales, I am reminded of the long Japanese history I am a part of. A history that includes a blend of providence and tragedy. That connects me to a world long ago and a beautiful Japanese family.

Ode to A Wintery Wednesday.

2010-12-22T23:58:00.000-08:00

I love listening to the rain when I'm indoors, coffee in one hand and a book in the other. I like the idea of rain all the time. It makes our earth green, leaving things feeling cleaner. Let it be known, though, I don't like driving in the rain or getting frizzy hair as a result of it.

However, today, I threw caution to the rain. I got in my car and I drove around town. I hung out with my mom. I had dinner with friends. I went to the movies. And took some photos. And all in the pouring rain.

As for the driving, I did fishtail once trying to stop at a red light. And then, later, I ran a yellow light in front of a cop to avoid fishtailing again. He didn't follow me, I'm guessing he understood. As for the hair, a couple of small braids tethering my bangs down and a pony tail in the back fixed that.

Wow, that sounds really bad, so here's what I'm talking about:

That's Deedee and I on the top floor of the UNLV Parking Garage.

(Notice the braid and no frizz).

We drove there because we saw this view of The Strip and thought it was pretty sweet. Gotham like. A likely result of all that rain today.

It seemed like perfect timing too, as we noticed the fog had mostly lifted by the time we were driving away.

Overall, I had a lovely wintery Wednesday.

The difference between men and women...

2010-12-20T23:55:00.000-08:00

In this case, about 4 minutes ago, was exactly 26 words.

There's a lot more I can say about that (and really want to), but I won't in honor of concision...at least just for tonight.

Just Another Lebanese Sunday

2010-12-19T23:14:00.000-08:00

It's almost 10:30pm and I'm ending the day with an episode of 8 Limbed Boy on the Discovery Health Channel. The boy is from India and having his parasitic twin removed. It was odd enough for everyone else to call it a night and interesting enough to give me a second wind. Taking a two hour nap today may have helped as well. I'm sure to have some interesting dreams tonight, that's for sure.

Today was the first full day of my family being together for the holidays. I love my family, but sometimes I think the movies, especially holiday movies, have messed up my set of expectations for these times together. My time with them is immensely better when I can release these expectations and appreciate our time together as is.

Our day began with Lebanese Mass at 11am.

Actually it began with the drive over.

Sometimes I wonder if the reason my family always ends up having these crazy tense arguments on the way to church is so that we arrive to Mass with a clear sense of our need for forgiveness. Never fails. My dad only managed to score one middle finger from a fellow driver on the drive down. Not bad. My brother, stewing in the fact that he didn't have enough time to get ready because he thought Mass was at noon and not 11am, would not turn and look at the beautiful rainbow behind us. He missed a good one.

My mom, trying to mediate, cracked us all up. "Are you joking me? I told you 11am yesterday."

Though the funniest thing she did today was after church, at lunch with some family friends (they are a Lebanese and El Salvadoran couple), when in hopes of asking for a spoon, she asked the waitress in Spanish. Here's the funny thing. My mom's English is not that great, her Spanish is even worse. Oh, and, the waitress was from the Phillipines. "One Asian asking another Asian for a spoon in Spanish, I think it's ok to use English here." was my brother's commentary. He's agreed that he's the snarky one in the family. I'm a close second.

With only a two hour break in between gatherings, I passed out. First nap of the holidays. Then it was off to my uncle and aunt's home for a visit around 6pm. He's the uncle who had emergency brain surgery while we were all on vacation in San Diego, for my cousins wedding. Whenever I see him, I am reminded of God's ability to do the impossible!

And, in good Lebanese fashion, we left my aunt and uncles home for a 'short' visit with another family. Elie and Eva are good family friends. They were high school sweethearts and fell in love 30 years later, when my uncle (that's what we call family friends) was divorced and Eva was widowed.

It's a very Lebanese thing to travel from home to home simply visiting people. This is especially true if someone is in town visiting. I'm also always in awe watching Lebanese families host their guests. They rarely ask, what would you like to drink, they just serve you their best. To the Lebanese, it's how you honor each other, both in offering coffee, tea, and homemade baklava and figs, as well as receiving them gladly. So my dad having my brother AND me home is like opening gifts on Christmas for him. Joy.

When I was a kid we would stop and visit Lebanese families and friends, often on the way home. My dad would say we'll just stay long enough for one cup of coffee. That coffee would often take an hour and a half to finish. What was deceiving was that Arabic coffee is a lot like espresso, meant to be sipped. The size is only about 1/4 of a cup. No milk. But, man oh man, did they nurse that coffee.

Overall, today was a great day of being with my family, experiencing Advent, and getting in touch with my Lebanese roots, one piece of baklava at a time.

And oh, here's what happened to the 8 Limbed Boy, in case you were writhing in agony, wondering if he made it. Good news, the surgery was completely successful and he's recovering.

Well, The Boy Who Shed Tears of Blood just came on, and that's my cue to go to bed!

Resolutions

2010-12-18T23:58:00.000-08:00

A little less than 2 weeks. That's all that stands between us and 2011. Are you ready?

I've been thinking about these next two weeks. I have a friend who made a new years resolution this year. That resolution was to read 12 books in 2010. Here we are, 2 weeks to go, and she's 3 books short. She plans to do all that she can these next 13 days to accomplish her goal. I know she'll do it, too. She's got resolve. And in that time, I will likely read just a few more pages in the book I've been reading, and in doing so will not be accomplishing any resolutions.

I have been thinking a little about resolutions. I haven't decided whether I'll attempt to keep a new year's resolution this year, though, I'm tempted. However, I can't think of one year I've ever clearly made and kept a resolution.

All I know is that I'm glad I've got a couple weeks to figure it out.

And I resolve to do just that.

Like a forest we never knew.

2010-12-17T22:48:00.000-08:00

Snow melting off a branch in Sequoia.

Today, as the rain fell, it reminded me of my days on sabbatical in the Northwest. As it would rain for days, I would learn to enjoy its effect on nature. I learned to be still and slow down. Thanks to my friend Kristen, I also got into the rhythm of beginning and ending each day with The Daily Office. This is not to be confused with watching The Office daily. It's also known as Liturgy of the Hours or the Divine Hours.

The Divine Hours is a collection of daily readings and prayers said at certain times of the day.

While I practiced the discipline, at times, it felt stiff and disconnected to me. I had the chance to ask a nun about this and I loved how she explained it.

"Prayer is like when an old couple, having breakfast together, prepares the tea, sets out the plates, get the scones (apparently they are a British couple) and sets the table.

The intimacy is sitting at the table, holding hands, looking into each other's eyes... the 'setting up' is the formality that leads to the intimacy. Sometimes we don't have the words and prayers help lead us." (Sr. Laura, St. Placid Priory, Washington)

Indeed, as the months wore on, I came to really enjoy these moments of beginning and ending my day. Times of 'setting up' and times of deep being.

One of my favorite readings (a poem for the evening) written by what sounds like a woman, but is really a man. It's the middle name that caught me off guard. It was likely written in the early 1900's.

By Rainer Maria Rilke

You are the future,

the red sky before sunrise

over the fields of time.

You are the cock's crow when night is done,

you are the dew and the bells of matins,

maiden, stranger, mother, death.

You create yourself in ever-changing shapes

that rise from the stuff of our days~

unsung, unmourned, undescribed,

like a forest we never knew.

You are the deep innerness of all things,

the last word that can never be spoken.

To each of us you reveal yourself differently:

to the ship as a coastline, to the shore as a ship.

I love the imagery. One day I'd love to create an art piece, a painting maybe, to go along with this poem.

And tonight, as I prepare to head back to Las Vegas with my family. As I prepare to say goodbye to 2010. As I consider what the next year will hold, I close my day with this prayer:

Watch, O Lord, with those who wake, or watch, or weep tonight, and give Your angels and saints charge over those who sleep. Tend your sick ones, O Lord Christ. Rest your weary ones. Bless your dying ones. Soothe your suffering ones. Shield your joyous ones, and all for your love's sake.

Amen.

Sequoia or Bust

2010-12-16T22:11:00.001-08:00

What should have been a nice short day trip to Sequoia turned out to be a trip full of twists and turns. No, I don't mean any hair raising stunts or park ranger capers, though we did see a black bear cross the road.

See him?! That's the bear after he crossed.

In order to explain what I mean by twists and turns, I will have to back track to 1965.

It may have been the year that Lyndon B Johnson was inaugurated, Malcolm X was assassinated, and gas was only 31 cents per gallon, but it was also the year that my dad got his drivers license. Having learned to drive in Lebanon means my dad...how do I put it... drives like a maniac. Proof is in the nausea. It says something when my dad, who visited a few years ago, was afraid to drive there because of the crazy traffic. Anything goes kind of driving means you've always got your foot on the gas or brake.

Since my dad taught me to drive, I in turn, always have my foot on the gas or brake. For years, I could not understand what my friends complained about... 'My driving getting them carsick? What?'

Then one day, I actually made myself carsick. In my own car, while driving, people! What?

(Consider this my open apology to anyone I've ever made carsick from my driving.)

Flash forward to today. My dad, brother, family friend Nayla, and I loaded up our car and headed for Sequoia. Even though Nayla's lived in Fresno for 10 years, she had never been. We hit the road and a little fog, but things were going great...until...we hit the mountain.

Enter twists and turns. Enter nausea. My brother and I are really prone to carsickness. My dad and Nayla were not. It's not a coincidence that they both grew up in Lebanon.

Besides the hour drive up the mountain and hour drive down the mountain, Sequoia was beautiful today! There was about a foot of snow and the fog gave the giant forest an erie feeling. Below are just a few of my favorite shots of the day:

The General Sherman Tree, largest living organism in the world.

The road into Sequoia is only open every 2 hours. While we waited in the fog, we snapped up some photos.

My dad loves that he looks so much bigger than my brother in this photo. Without trick photography, that isn't so.

We saw this spot on the way up and decided to stop on the way down, but the fog rolled in and this is what we got.

Perspective on how huge these trees are.

My brother is the one on the right.

Today...

2010-12-15T23:51:00.000-08:00

...Fresno welcomed winter unofficially with fast falling leaves, brisk cool air, and morning after rain smell.

...I woke up refreshed after a great 8 hours of sleep.

...I got my eyebrows threaded. (I've got an eyebrow reputation to keep up ;)

...I sighed, but wasn't surprised when I called my dad and brother to find out what they wanted for dinner this week. I was at Trader Joes, they were on their way. His reply, "We don't need dinner, but, oh, that reminds me, can you find us a hotel?" That would be 3 hours before they arrive. I feel the need to mention that they just booked their rental car yesterday. Time to time I get razzed for being indecisive, last minute, and late... my response, "I never had a fighting chance"

...I got to host friends over for a late lunch. It was good conversation over pita chips with an olive tapenade and a pomegranate, goat cheese and arugala salad. I felt very refined.

...I got to hold my friend's aborable new baby, Samuel, who not only fell asleep in my arms but kept smiling in his sleep.

...my little brother and dad arrived in Fresno (for the first time ever) and I enjoyed giving them a taste of of the town. My dad was surprised how Fresno was much bigger than he thought. "You have a 99 cent store?! Oh, really?" Yes, he actually said this. My brother said Fresno felt like the midwest. I see what he means. It definitely doesn't feel like Vegas.

...my roommates and I exchanged gifts since we'll be spending Christmas with our families. I found myself thankful for such great friends.

...saw Nayla, a family friend, for the first time in 10 years. She's around my age, Lebanese, and lives here. Can't wait to have dinner with her this week.

...I watched LXD (Legion of Extraordinary Dancers) on hulu with my roommates. We hooked up the projector and it was great. It was the season finale and it seriously was one big breakdance fight!

...I'm going to bed as soon as I can so I'm rested for tomorrow's day trip to Sequoia with my dad and brother. I expect this time together to generate many blogworthy topics for days to come.

My Year according to Facebook

2010-12-14T22:30:00.000-08:00

It's really only been in the last year that I've used Facebook for anything more than 'looking up' people (read: facestalking) and replying to people's questions left on my wall. I didn't really comment. I didn't really post any status updates unless they were really newsworthy (read: embarrassing or amazing accomplishments).

Until this year.

Since moving to Fresno.

Since Facebook has become a main way of staying connected with a majority of people easily.

I still don't like how status updates are replacing more personal forms of connecting. But, I mean, how on earth did we communicate small amounts of information to large amounts of people before the internet?! However convenient, I will always choose a coffee date over an update anyday! And don't get me started on how I mourn the loss of the handwritten letter. Nevertheless, since I moved far, far away from so many friends, I updated my status more often this year than I ever have.

Now, I'm kind of glad. Below is a collection of most of my Facebook Status' for 2010.

I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had living it.

Blessings to you on your reflections of 2010...

(If you're on Facebook and you'd like to make your own 'Year in Status' collage, you can try this link.)

Chinese Miners

2010-12-13T17:10:00.000-08:00

Have you ever dug yourself out of a hole only to trip back in on accident?

Literally or proverbially speaking.

A few years ago a couple of Chinese coal miners, brothers, were trapped in a collapsed mine near Beijing. It was an illegal coal mine and they were stuck for 6 days. You may not have remembered this headline, likely because it was only a couple guys, and probably because this is a more common event in China. I found the story on an online UK newspaper.

China averages 13 deaths a day due to floods, fires, or explosions in coal mines. This leaves China's coal mines the worlds deadliest. Did you know that? I didn't. Much of this is due to mine owners who disregard safety rules. And a high demand for the stuff.

A quick google search of this will yield a slew of stories involving trapped Chinese miners over the years. The story of the two brothers isn't even listed until page 6.

As I read the article, back in 2007, I remember being in awe by the headline, which stated that they had to eat coal and drink their own urine before their miraculous escape. I clicked for the full story prepared to be wowed.

I was, for a totally different reason.

Here's what I read:

Officials said that rescue work was halted after experts determined there was no chance that the brothers, from the Chinese region of Inner Mongolia, had survived.

The men were optimistic until the sound of the digging outside stopped.

Then they "totally had a breakdown. I told my brother, your wife is going to have to marry someone else," said Meng.

"I had been thinking about buying an apartment in town for my wife and (now) it is going to be someone else's," (his brother) added.

"...my wife could find a rich man in Shenyang. But then I thought, I have two children and my wife is ugly, so it'd be hard for her to remarry," Meng joked.

Wow.

Thankfully, the two men survived with the only injury being that their kidney's suffered due to dehydration. I'm curious if they survived the follow up conversation with their wives after this was published world wide.

Oh, how I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, just to see how he'd dig his way out of that one.

That conversation and the one with the experts in charge of the rescue efforts. In times like these, 'my bad', won't cut it.

One thing they did note was that their mining days were over.

"Now we just want to go home safely and put this behind us," they said.

On a serious note, I'm wowed by the fact that 13 Chinese miners die, on average, per day! This time around, it's this one that's sticking with me! I wonder what can be done about this? As for tonight, I will say a prayer for miners all around the world... and turn off all my lights.

Sweet Dreams

2010-12-12T23:37:00.001-08:00

A few days ago I woke up from a dream.

I dreamt that my good friend made the National Enquirer. I saw her on the cover in the checkout isle in the grocery store. Naturally, I purchased the magazine. She was being interviewed and I remember the photo on the cover looked like it was taken with a cell phone, grainy and such. She was crying in the photo. I couldn't tell if it was from excitement or sadness. I never found out why.

Waking up without resolution on this was odd, but I got a hold of my friend to let her know she was on my mind and in my dream and to make sure she was allright, just in case. She was.

I'm really impressionable and get really weird dreams easily. I watched a commercial for the TV show Medium once and had a nightmare. I saw a movie poster featuring a gorilla and dreamt of a rampage. One year, my housemates were really into the show, Criminal Minds, and I noticed I was getting increased heart palpitations going up the stairs at night, in my home. I had to stop watching.

As a kid, probably 6 or 7, I remember waking up after a babysitter had put us to bed, and going into the living room to sneek a peek at the movie she was watching. It was a black and white horror movie about a demon possessed hand. The one scene I saw showed the hand getting cut off and flushed down the toilet, only to reemerge in another toilet for another bout of torture. For years afterward I had a fear of sitting on the toilet. Seriously. No dawdling for me, with a racing heart, I'd pee as fast as I could and bolt.

It's one of the reasons I don't watch any horror flicks now.

Issues, i know. (That could actually be a better name for my blog)

When I had that dream, I tried to play detective and see if I could figure out if there was anything the day before that made me think of my friend or the National Enquirer, I suppose. Nothing came to mind.

The only think I can think of is that over the last week I've been staying up later and later and getting less and less sleep.

The culprit? My social calender. What can I say? I'm a social butterfly and an extrovert. The result... I come home from parties totally wired and energized. I end up laying in bed waiting for my mind to get the memo that I'm exhausted!

Tonight, however, I'm going to do my best to follow my two healthy sleeping habits. Reading before I fall asleep (versus watching tv or strolling the internet). That and getting a full 8 hours. Since it's almost midnight, we'll see if that will happen.

In any case, here's to some sweet dreams and a paparazzi free night.

Trees and things

2010-12-11T23:56:00.000-08:00

Growing up we had glorious Christmas trees. My parent's home had vaulted ceilings, so our trees would be 8', 9', and 10' tall! We were all about the ornaments too. One year my mom, brother and I hand made Christmas ornaments with each of my cousins names on them. Did I mention I have 41 cousins?! One per cousin. Plus aunts and uncles. It was a really full tree that year.

Also, Lebanese people really know how to take the Nativity scene to a whole new level. Not just a simple set of ceramic statues here. I'm talking crinkled newspaper as faux mountain terrain, mirrors with sprayed snow for the ice skating rink effect, and patches of trimmed wheat germ and sprouts for the grassy knolls. When Christmas rolled around, our living room was transformed into a winter wonderland.

So, the year my parents divorced, my brother and I were pretty devastated that we weren't getting a tree. So much so, that my dad actually caved in and purchased one of those living trees. It was literally 2 feet tall and still in the pot. We cried even harder. Looking back, I realize it was probably more than just the tree, but as a 3rd grader and 7th grader, respectively, my brother and I could only articulate our sadness about the tree. We did our best to love that tree, decorating it was some lights and ornaments. My dad even put it on a chair and covered the chair with a blanket to give it some height.

Well, after Christmas passed, my dad planted that tree in our front yard. During those 4 years that my parents were divorced, that tree watched lots of life happen at our home while it grew. Those were crazy years, as my brother and I were living in between three homes at the same time, this one, my mom's, and my aunts. In some ways, that tree was the most constant thing at our home those years.

Then a miracle happened. My parents reconnected. They began talking again. They spent more and more time together. They fell back in love and remarried each other, putting an end to their 4 year separation. My mom moved back in. My brother and I eventually graduated from high school and then college. Later my parents ended up moving into a new home. My aunt and uncle bought that house from them. They still live there today.

All the while, the tree kept growing.

Today, as I was working on Christmas Cards and verifying addresses and zip codes, I looked up my old home on Google Maps. And there I saw that itty bitty tree was all grown up. It's unbelievable to see how full, healthy and humungous it is! Looking at it now, you would never have believed it's humble beginnings.

I remember one year, when the tree had grown to about 6 or 7 feet, we considered chopping it down and using it as our Christmas tree that year. My parents had gotten back together and we thought it could be a cool symbol of our family being together again. I can't remember why we never did. But I'm really glad we didn't.

I know that seeing that baby tree, I had enough faith to imagine it would one day grow up to be an average sized Christmas tree. It would just take time. But I don't know that I would have ever imagined that runt of a thing would one day be taller than my house! Much taller.

When I see that tree now, I see a symbol of fortitude.

When I see that tree now, I am reminded of the power of forgiveness.

And when I see that tree now, I laugh a little at the fact that I can still go to my childhood home, anytime, and see my little tree, because it's still in the family.

My Life in Verbs

2010-12-10T23:54:00.000-08:00

I first saw this on my friend Larissa's blog. She's lovely and her blog is a fun collection of musings on her life, great recipes and crafts, and she's a fellow IV'er too.

I knew at some point in my commitment to write everyday this month, I'd have those days where writing would be tough. Today was one of those days, not so much because I have writer's block, but moreso because I'm wiped. Not only did I just spend the weekend away, but I also just returned from 4 days in Bakersfield with 30 of my friends and colleagues. We just got back last night, and today was our end of year Christmas party for students.

I just got back from taking the last of them home. My roommates are winding down now by catching up on LXD dance videos on hulu. I am winding down by posting this.

So here's my life in verbs (midnight edition)

Wanting... to just go to sleep without having to get ready for bed. Just tonight. No changing into PJ's, washing my face, brushing my teeth. I'm that tired. I know I won't skip, but that's what I'm wanting.

Creating... a plan to train for my next half marathon. I'm eyeing one in San Francisco in early February, which would mean that I would have roughly 8 weeks to train.

Reading... Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. (Fiction) Though I have to clarify that I'm not reading with my eyes, but with my ears. It's an audiobook. Ever since I moved to Fresno and began driving 8 hour stints to get home I joined audible.com, a netflixs of audiobooks. Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet tells the story of two young friends, Henry, a Chinese American, and Keiko, a Japanese American, and their blossoming friendship during WWII. Keiko and her family eventually are sent to an internment camp. And Henry and his family... well I'm not sure what they do- I'm only half way through. So far, so good.

Wondering... how my Christmas photo card will turn out. I spent time today working on it today and just sent the order to Walgreens tonight. The prints will be ready for tomorrow.

Realizing... that I need to start thinking about Christmas gifts. With my roommates leaving soon, my family coming soon, and my coming home soon... I've got to put my plan to action. I don't want to be one of those fools in the Walgreens on Christmas eve looking for anything that would pass for a thoughtful gift.

Loving... this snack: Green apple (sliced) with Trader Joe's white cheddar with carmelized onion cheese (sliced). It's tart and tasty! Thanks to Tina for getting me hooked.

Anticipating... my brother and dad visiting Fresno next week. It will be their first time to Fresno. I can't wait to host them.

13.1 things I've learned through running.

2010-12-09T23:55:00.000-08:00

In March of 2009, I wrote THIS about running my first mile.

In short, it was painful. One year and 205.75 miles later, I've run two 5k's, a 7 mile relay half marathon, and a half marathon.

That's a total of 26 miles of race running and 179 miles of training so I could actually make it across those finish lines.

One year ago I entered in my first timed race, the City to the Sea Half Marathon and 5k race in San Luis Obispo. I was in the 5k group, but cheered (and watched in awe) as many of my friends ran across the finish line after braving their 13.1 miles of rolling hills and ocean views. Last year it took me nearly 45 minutes just to putter 3.1 miles across the finish line. Since I barely survived the 5k, the idea of running a half marathon was not even a possibility in my mind.

...until October 10, 2010 (or 10-10-10!), when I crossed that finish line after running my own 13.1 miles of my rolling hills and ocean views. Since then, this list has been brewing. I actually began it the night of the race, but I'll just blame muscle fatigue and lethargy for why it never got posted.

At the starting line: Can you see my confidence?!

Here are the 13.1 things I've learned during these 205 miles of running:

13. Everyone need some heroes. I know I would have never tried running had I not seen Rob re-emerge as a runner during his sabbatical with his dramatic transformation. And watching other friends like Teri, Tina, and Marissa (to name a few) train and run their half marathons was so encouraging too. They gave me much encouragement and hope that with some training, I could do it too!

12. I like seeing progress. Ever since I paired the Nike Plus running chip with Nikerunning.com, I've been just short of obsessed with tracking my progress. But with an appropriate amount of discipline, it was really helpful for analyzing my efforts and improving as a runner.

Here's a snapshot of most of my half marathon training.

(There are a few short runs, a 7 & 8 mile long runs missing from this)

11. During a race, I like lots of cheerers! Even when they are strangers, even when they are paid volunteers, even when they aren't cheering for me- I get pumped just seeing and hearing the cheers... I found that during the race, whenever there was a great group of cheerers I straightened up, gained some speed and mentally amped up again. I LOVED seeing my friends at the finish line cheering me across, so much so I nearly tripped 10 feet in front of the finish line. That's. so. me.

10. I don't like failing. I had created a goal of finishing the race in under 3 hours. I knew that my pace was between 10:30 and 12 min miles...and I had never trained on hills. In all honesty, I thought I'd finish well under 3 hours and was really disappointed when I noticed that I crossed the line at 3 hours, 55 seconds! Tears welled up and I knew I just needed a few minutes to cry it out. I did, and then I got over it because I had just run my first half marathon for goodness sake!

9. Hills stink. That's all.

8. You can make friends anywhere! Even at the 12 mile marker... where I met Monica, who's in the photo with me. We were struggling approaching that last mile, several feet apart. She had stopped, complaining of her knees. I hadn't seen her before. I don't know what compelled me, but I said "come on, let's do this together". Maybe because that's what I needed to hear, but it was a great last mile of getting to know each other, getting our mind off the pain and crossing the finish line with a new friend.

7. 12 weeks leading to the race, it was all about physical training for me. I kept to the training schedule as best as I could. When I got to the race, it felt more like a mental battle. Next time I need a 'mental training' plan too.

6. Running is messy, deal. I've lost two toenails. Blisters galore. I always run with a handkerchief now. I'm a sweaty mess after any run over 5 miles. And body glide is a new friend.

5. Nike Dri Fit is amazing. For my birthday, a couple weeks before the big race, I got birthday money for a new running shirt. I invested in this Nike Dri Fit tank, and it was great blend of comfort, moisture wicking, and feeling stylish.

4. Having a training plan helps. Rob and Tina, veteran racers, sent us the 'Surf and Turf foolproof Training Schedule' and it was SO helpful (and realistic). Also, I like physically checking off my runs as I do them.

3. FYI. A knee brace is only for the run (to help secure your knee). I've learned it's not helpful to keep it on much longer than that. And definitely do not keep it on overnight and the next day because it feels good because it will cause your ankle to swell up to the size of a grapefruit. So I hear.

2. Your age isn't a number, it's the number of pains you get during a run. (I wrote this the night of my half-marathon, when I had ice packs everywhere! Reading it now just makes me laugh, so I kept it in! Maybe running makes you wiser and speak in proverbs?)

1. I need a race to train for if I expect myself to be disciplined and continue running. In the two months since the race I have run twice! Tomorrow I plan to run 3 miles. It's time. I've also begun hunting for the next half-marathon to aim for. It will most likely be this but I'd love it if it was this too! I can't wait to kick those 55 seconds in the butt, and then some!

.1 While, at times, I only feel like a runner 10% of the time, I am. And I am getting there. Once, early into one of the long training runs, it began to rain. I looked at my running buddy and said 'Noemi, today, we are the hardcore runners.' Indeed.

Travel Food Writer.

2010-12-08T23:47:00.000-08:00

Last night, after a full day of staff meetings, it was time for some fun.

On the schedule: Tuesday Trivia Night, InterVarsity edition. A few months ago, while in San Luis Obispo, we tried to attend the Trivia Night at a local campus pizza place called Woodstocks. However, it was completely packed out. Out of 20 or so interested, only 4 staff got to actually play. They got creamed.

This time around we decided to make our own trivia night. One of the staff, Mariah, planned the whole night. Over 20 of us crammed into the cozy Bakersfield staff worker's living room. Clarification: it's the living room that's cozy, not the staff worker.

In addition to both a general trivia and Christmas trivia section, each staff submitted one or two questions about themselves or InterVarsity for two additional categories (staff, IV general).

Though my team was called Team Awesome, we came in 4th. At Woodstocks, that would have been great. At the Mbong's living room...that meant last. Perspective is everything.

At one point in the night, during the staff trivia section, one of the questions was 'which staff worker wants to be a Travel Food Writer one day'. Someone thought that was me. I found that amusing.

It's true that before I traveled to Southeast Asia a couple years ago, I did search online for opportunities to do some writing for online travel websites but to no such luck. And yes, I did eat some really interesting things, especially in Thailand and Vietnam. And I'm not sure why they wouldn't appreciate articles like THIS.

I did submit the photo in an online travel 'funny signs' photo contest.
Winning isn't everything.

Being a Travel Food Writer sounds wonderful! You get to see lots of places. You get to eat regional cuisines. You get to tell stories. All things I love.

What was my Staff Trivia question, you might ask?

Before coming on staff, which staff worker held these jobs:
surveying truck drivers at a filling station and
student DJ for the campus radio station (2-6am)?

That would be me.

Looking at this...

2010-12-07T23:25:00.000-08:00

...just makes me feel happy.

I'll tell you why. It combines a few things I want to remember in one photo.

1. Fall leaves:

I know I already devoted a blog post to this, but I still can't get over these colors! We really don't have colors like this in Las Vegas! I am in awe of creation.

2. My new camera:

You might not notice this from the photo, but there is no one around... not even a photographer! When I saw the scene, I knew I wanted a photo here. I used a flat top trash can as a makeshift tripod and used my self timer (on continuous so it took 10 photos in a row) and had fun playing both photographer and subject. I played around with the aperture and had to take a ton of photos to get the focusing just right (really hard to do without a subject!) but of all the photos I took that day... I just love this one.

3. The location: College of the Sequoias in Visalia, CA.

As an Area Director in the Greater Fresno Area... C.O.S falls under the 'Greater' part. It's located about 40 minutes south of Fresno and does not have InterVarsity yet. I would LOVE to see students at EVERY campus, including students at C.O.S., have the opportunity to experience the gift of being a part of a multi-ethnic witnessing community through InterVarsity.

4. My Expression

There is something about all three of the above things that put together on that day just made me giddy. Enjoying nature. Being creative AND a little silly. With the possibility and hope of one day seeing ministry happen on this campus. These things make me smile.

And indeed feel happy.

Seriously

2010-12-06T10:32:00.000-08:00

Last Wednesday, I spoke at the InterVarsity Large Group meeting at Fresno State.

I was speaking on our identity. Rather than begin the time with a mini-bio of who I am...most of which would come out through the stories I'd be telling that night. I decided to give the students permission to ask me anything they wanted to know about me in 3 questions.

Anything was on the table...and as long as I had an answer I'd tell it.

During the day I wondered what they might ask. I prepared mentally for some doozies.
What's your biggest regret? What are you afraid of?
What's your deepest darkest sin? What is the craziest thing you've ever done?
What's your most embarrassing moment?

What I got was:
How did you become a Christian?
How did you get involved in InterVarsity?
How was it living in Las Vegas?

And the piece de resistance...What's your favorite cereal?

Maybe I'm just a morbid, nosy, and peculiar kind of person but those are the things I'd want to know...

Well, just so a good story doesn't go to waste.
Here's what I would have shared for my 'most embarrassing moment'?

I was in college and living in the dorms. In the years I lived in the dorms I was always late to class. I lived 95 steps from my classroom, but still... late.

One one such day, I knew right after class I'd have too get to a teaching appointment, so I decided to ride my bike to class. According to my math, I was going to be late unless I left right on time. My plan, then, was to be the first one out of class and bike fast to the dorms. Grab my car and hit the road.

Well, I was the first one out of class. The plan was going well. I began to bike down towards the main path.

Now a couple things you need to know here:

1. I had just learned how to ride a bike that year.
2. Low rise jeans were really popular at that time.

Aware of fact number 2, I suddenly realized that as my classmates were getting out of class, they were also getting a shot at my suddenly too low rise jeans.

I let go of one hand to adjust my t-shirt, a minor adjustment, I thought for sure. When the other hand, rather than holding the bike steady, swung around...to which my entire bike flipped. And I landed somewhere in between the mess.

Now the beauty of this was not just that it happened in front of my classmates. BUT at this same time a group of guys were doing construction on something just near enough to point and laugh...but not close enough to help.

I broke the chain off my bike. I twisted my ankle pretty bad. I was late.

And I was pretty embarrassed.
That was why when a really nice guy came up to me and said
"I'm a fireman... can I help?"
I responded "No, I'm not on fire."

He did end up carrying my bike for me.

There you go.

Now isn't that story better than hearing "Fruit Loops is my favorite cereal"?

Oh, they did get a kick out of this though: My student ID from 1997!

Someone asked if my hair was in a ponytail. I explained that Friends was a really popular show at the time. And though I asked for the Rachel... I ended up with the Joey. ;(

Because sometimes a walk is just a walk...

2010-12-05T23:15:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been disappointed by something, not because it wasn't that great... but rather your high expectations kept you from being able to appreciate it for what it was?

As I entered my second day at St. Anthony's Retreat Center, I thought I'd start the morning with a lovely walk. Having had a great night's rest (I'm coming off a cold, so I caught up on MUCH needed zzz's), I grabbed the area map with all of the nearby trails marked out.

Now, here's how I saw the morning going.

I'd pick the perfect trail, which would clearly lead to the nearby river. I'd get some great photo op's and during said walk, the heavens would part, and I would both hear from God and have perfect clarity on what to do with my life. And what the heck, maybe a nice handsome jogger would be running by at that same moment and wanna go grab some coffee.

Ok- so that's not exactly what I expected... but close.

Here's what happened.

I grabbed my map, camera and coffee. I picked a trail that looked fun for about 3.5 minutes until it turned into a steep muddy slope and stopped right at the road. (It was a poorly designed map.) I took the road, still hoping for a great walk and some great shots. I made my way towards a bridge. Everything around me ended up being private property, the bridge was sadly underwhelming and the river was just far enough away to hear it but not see it.

I turned around, remembering there was a lovely bench on the hill someways up, and I headed back. A perfect spot for some reflecting. However, after making my way up the muddy hill, somehow stepping into a spiderweb, and ending up a whole lot sweatier than when I began, I sat down a little disappointed.

And that's when I heard it.

Not sure if it was God or the coffee speaking.

But that's when I heard "sometimes a walk is just a walk".

Often, I have such high expectations. Of what I want out of life. Of what I want from people.

Of what I want from a stinking lovely morning walk.

I want the spectacular. I want revelation. I want extraordinary.

But sometimes a walk is just a walk.

And sometimes the point is to just enjoy the moment. And the company.

Me. God. Nature.

An ordinary miracle.