tweet tweet tweet

a few weeks ago I declared twitter ridiculous. 

oops. today I joined. my roommates are judging me as we speak, but do you know who’s not judging? 

John Mayer and Ashton Kutcher and Taylor Swift and The Riverside Worship Project and this Emily and this Emily and Blair.

It all seems shockingly similar to the rabbi system of old where one jew might ask the question “who do you follow?” And the jew would reply with the name of the rabbi who discipled them and then they would be assigned credibility accordingly. I assume that lame rabbis didn’t get followed and certainly not claimed and in the same way I refuse to follow or claim anyone lame and I will work hard to establish myself as a credible twitter so that no one says that I’m lame and refuses to follow me.

My first tweet says, “hollyhereth has twitter so that she can stock john mayer more effectively.” It seems like the only reason I am on is to follow my love, jm, like I heard he was on and just wanted to see what he was up to. You see, it’s important to establish myself to be a little disenchanted with twitter, you know like, “I’m way to cool to be a rabbi, but oh if you insist.” But you readers know the truth. I want to be a rabbi. And I spent an embarrassingly long time picking out a picture. I went for the “fun girl at a dinner party that just made a 3 layer (chocolate, strawberry, funfetti) cake” look. And I really think I achieved it.

Also, don’t be worried about me wasting time doing this because if I wasn’t, I would have just been giving Winning London on VHS more attention. You’re heard me, Winning London. MK and Ash go to London for Model U.N. and one falls in love with the unassuming football star childhood friend and the other with the unassuming son of British royalty. So much magic captured on one videocassette tape. 

My house might be freezing because we refuse to turn the heat back on, but today is a good day.

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i should be studying

 

in front of us is the drama of men and of nations, seething, struggling, laboring, dying. Upon this tragic drama in these days our eyes are all set in anxious watchfulness and prayer. But within the silences of the souls of men an eternal drama is ever being enacted, in these days as well as in others. And on the outcome of this inner drama rests, ultimately, the outer pageant of history. It is the drama of the Hound of Heaven baying relentlessly upon the track of man. It is the drama of the lost sheep wandering in the wilderness, restless and lonely, feebly searching, while over the hills comes the wiser Shepherd. For His is a Shepherd’s heart, and He is restless until He holds His sheep in His arms

-thomas kelly, a testament of devotion 

 

read this book. please. it might take you 5 years to get through, but it won’t disappoint.

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in the particulars

holly just posted a perfect account of our spring break, and as always, there is no way I could follow that up with words. so i’ll just post a picture. this was taken on the night we finally left california while on a short outing with my dad. long story short, a series of slightly unfortunate/unplanned events ending up leading us to the coast for a few hours to take pictures/spend some last minute alone time together. it was a perfectly unplanned breath of fresh air. i couldn’t be more thankful for those moments. my dad has this way of putting things into perspective and when i can’t seem to move forward, he always leads me back to the lord. i am more blessed than i realize to have that man in my life.

over the past few years, i’ve developed a nasty habit of planning. as of late, ive become the kind of person who thrives off to-do (clean house, stop the ceiling from leaking, take more showers), to-make (crocheted apple cozy, lemon cake, twinkle lights), to-become (rockstar, domestic goddess), to-be (selfless friend, loving daughter, cool big sister) lists. i act like i can run my life with checkboxes and a cute planner.* so i think that god must have decided that on january 1, 2009, he was going to slowly start the process of breaking that controlling spirit and so far, i haven’t been able to stop him. through various circumstances, people, and stories, i’ve been learning the lesson of trust. trusting that when i let go of my own plans, i can finally experience the joy of a moment, instead of always looking towards/trying to plan the future. 

so looking back on last week, it was interesting how the whole trip seemed to capitalize upon that theme. without an agenda, we set out on an adventure that left us with stories and moments we never could have planned ourselves. even in seemingly frustrating situations, we always walked away with a new story to tell. our best days were unplanned, and our best moments were happened upon. 

my new desire is to wake up every morning, take a deep breath, and live. i don’t want to plan anymore because a)it’s stressful, b)my plans always fall through, and c)i love and serve a creative and faithful god whose plan I can trust. 

the past few days, the words of this hymn have been rolling through my head. 

We rest on Thee, our shield and our defender
We go not forth alone against the foe
Strong in Thy might, safe in Thy keeping tender
We rest on Thee, and in Thy name we go

 

*don't get me wrong, i don't think there's anything wrong with lists. infact,  i think god created 
them for people like me who can't write well. the issue is that i tend to run my life by them. 

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some hyperboles, i know.

There are so many things demanding my emotion and there’s just not enough to go around.

We all know that will never be true, but there are so many things going on that I don’t know where to begin. My childhood is a good place, I think.

Where the Wild Things Are. You remember it. You loved it. You wished monsters would kidnap you from your sleep and carry you to a magical land. You wish it would be made into a movie so you could bask in nostalgia. Well everyone ever in the whole world who was ever a kid: our dreams are coming true. October 16, 2009. Here’s the link for the trailer. I hope you are wearing a dependable. 

My expectations are in outer space and I might be setting myself up for disappointment, but what else is new. We are going with it.

In comparison, other news seems sterile. I should have built suspense before revealing the real mccoy, but it was far too pressing. 

We (Meg, Blair, Allison and I) landed safely on east coast soil Tuesday morning after a week and some days of rip-roaring west-coast exploration. Were we supposed to come back Friday night? Yes. But sometimes blessing comes in the form of full flights. The extra days in San Francisco meant another Sunday at City Church in San Fran, lunch with some new friends, a glimpse into the post-college years  which turned into a synchronous destruction of idealized community that probably definitely needed to happen and encouragement that even in an economic crisis, I don’t have to move somewhere boring because God is dangerous and faithful.

Other highlights of the week include sleeping in a nest in a spirit garden in a redwood forest. Who would have thought such a thing existed? It was quite magical, really.  A new friend and Big Sur native told us that she felt wasteful going to college because all she wanted to do was marry the perfect boy, move back to Big Sur, make babies and live there for the rest of her life. It’s totally the kind of place for that kind of talk. You would spend your days hiking, surprised every time you came around a bend in the trail to see ocean because forests don’t belong next to oceans. You have a perfectly beautiful and earthy family that is normal in every way and everyone has the same sense of humor…. it rains only at night and in the morning when you can sleep in and you never get fat. Just like Where the Wild Things Are is going to be the best movie ever. ever.

Kicking it with the Gibson’s, eating lots and lots of delicious california avocados, enjoying the perks of a really nice coffee pot and expensive (not Kroger brand) cereal, hiking in beautiful places, meeting interesting people, spending very little money, sleeping 8+ish hours/night. These little joys made SB2k9 delightful. As soon as I can steal some of B. Stapp’s photo’s, I will put them up. Maybe. I always say that and it never happens. We shall see.

As for now, the azalea bushes outside my window are blooming. My sinuses don’t like it, but I think it’s a wonderful way to tell the world that summer is coming.

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indie hero + new beats = head bobbing

This is rocking my world today.

Sufjan Stevens + music that black people probably don’t listen to anymore = the whitest combination civilization has seen thus far. I feel so complete.

I am making the claim that black people don’t listen to these artists anymore on the basis that I have not heard of any of these people with the exception of Outkast. I realize that my assumptions are probably inaccurate, but they serve this particular agenda so I’m not going to do the research to find out that I am wrong. It was mixed by a producer out of Montreal so maybe they are just Canadian.

Nonetheless… rock your white heart out. 

Tomorrow I’m going to San Francisco!

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Hold me closer, Tony Danza

After romping around campus all morning in my old joe’s jeans I sat down in film class and thought, “I feel skin on chair.” I felt skin on chair because there was, per se, skin on chair. My jeans: ripped on the bu-thigh.. you know that part of your lower half where your butt means your thigh for a small space of anatomical ambiguity.

Did I go home and change? No. That was not in my plan for the day; therefore, I did not have time to do it. The fifteen minutes that it would have taken me to go home for fresh jeans were appropriately distributed between reading fml’s to remember that my life isn’t that bad even if I did spend 20ish hours in the library between friday and monday when it was 70 degrees and sunny (not bitter) and making a rough draft list of my top 10 favorite movies which includes The Little Princess (funny that you mentioned it, em. we are on the same wavelength).

But this is all yesterday’s news. Today, I lounged in my backyard for two hours without sunscreen today (two hours too long). This might be kosher behavior for the normal human but not this girl. The sun expose was way too much for my skin to handle, and now… I am a very very sunburnt girl. I’m banking on it fading to the perfect gold tone of an aussie. Because I studied so hard for my press law test, I am hoping the Lord will reward me with a killer tan, just this once. That’s how it works, right? 

Most annoying quote in the world:
“eeeessshhhhh, you are so burnt.”

As if I don’t already know. Thank you.

What’s funny is that 10 days ago, I was playing in the snow. Here in Auburn, we don’t mess around with the changing of seasons. If it’s not dramatic, it’s no good. Why ease into a season when you could just jump straight from winter to summer? Why peel the Band-Aid off slowly when you could rip it off quickly? It’s like, why try to build a base tan with moderation and sun screen when you could just burn the hell out of your skin on first exposure? That would be completely ridiculous.

Anyway, Meagan and I meant to put up pictures of the snow the day the blizzard came, but we made cookies that turned out to be gross instead. So without further without further adieu,

A march 1 with snowmen is the best kind of march 1. It was winter’s victory lap.

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on living simply

the rich usually imagine that, if they do not physically rob the poor, they
are committing no sin. but the sin of the rich consists in not sharing their
wealth with the poor. in fact, the rich person who keeps all his wealth for
himself is committing a form of robbery. the reason is that in truth all
wealth comes from God, and so belongs to everyone equally. the proof of
this is all around us. look at the succulent fruits which the trees and the
bushes produce. look at the fertile soil which yields each year such an
abundant harvest. look at the sweet grapes on the vines, which gives us
wine to drink. the rich may claim that they own many fields in which fruits
and grain grow; but it is God who causes seeds to sprout and mature. the
duty of the rich is to share the harvest of their fields with all who work in
them and with all in need.

saint john chrysostom, on living simply

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