I've noticed the phases in my life recently. If you would have asked me a couple of months ago I would have said I was the same Sylvia... good with consistancy. For the most part I still think I am, but there are little things that have obviously changed - my wardrobe being one.

Early middle school Sylvia was the image of what every teacher thought a sixth grader should dress like. That meant a lot of visits to Sears and JC Penney come August. I remember one time a teacher (who was also my girl scouts leader at the time) made me stand up in front of the class to show that my shorts were the appropriate length above the knee. Yes, I was "appropriate length" girl. Very modest and painfully shy.

Once eighth grade started, Herby introduced me into a little band called Anti-Flag. I was so desperate to change into something more "look at me" that I went headfirst into the political punk look. I wish I could post pictures... they are a doozey. I had the works: patches, safety pins, band pins, raccooon eye makeup. You name it, I wore it. So obviously dressing like that introduces you to new friends, and new friends introduce you to different scenes.

"High School" Sylvia was a really big Fat Wreck Chords / NOFX kind-of-gal. That's where I started straying from the cliche and made things my own. Fascinations with hair dye and Chuck Taylors ran rampant and they have yet to die down in my heart.

I don't really know where I am now. I invite anyone to take a swing and describe my clothes now, whether you like them or not. I don't care. Something I've been pondering a lot recently, though, is that everyone is a cliche. Clothes are something we desperately use to "define" us and make us "different", but no matter how hard we try there is always a John Doe out there who looks exactly like you. I've found at least two here in Kansas City. Either your the "girly feminine" one, or the "artsy indie" one, or whatever (you catch my drift).

Point is clothes don't make you. I'm wanting the "punk" in me to die down. I kind of just want the Jesus in me to define.

effin eros

I did a silent fast yesterday. From sun up to sun down I didn't say a word. Well, actually I did. I broke it three times. But I think it's funny the things the Lord allows to happen when you make a choice not to talk. I guess it's just to see what you're made of. Not that He'd look down on you for breaking it... but anyways...



The weather here is amazing. It's bright and in the 60s. So since it's just so nice outside, I decided to walk from the prayer room to birchwood. As I was walking over there, some black guy in a black convertible pulls over and gets close to me.



"Hey, you wanna go to the Tina Turner concert tonight?"



Aside from being a little freaked out, I thought: "Seriously, do I look like someone who would even listen to Tina Turner?" So I awkwardly motioned "no" with my head.



"Are you sure? You'll be going for free with me" (as if that was going to make it more enticing)



::make a weird face to accompany the "no" I motion again::



I was a little scared because there was no traffic at the time and no bystanders to see me get whisked away by the masked murderer. But God's good and He took care.



Plenty of other uncomfortable situations occured throughout the day, but the most uncomfortable was just the stare that you get from others.

Some stare in amazement ("Wow! I could never do that!")

Some stare in wonder ("So, have you broken it? How long will you be quiet for?")

And others don't want to talk to you and make you accidentally break your fast

so they just stare. and smile. and stare some more.

I liken the feeling as to an animal in a zoo. Because all you can do is stare as well.



So Yeah. I broke it three times. The first time I broke it by speaking in tongues at the prayer room. The third time I broke it by singing a line from a Peter Bjorn song. But the second time was kind of funny.



I've been battling a cold recently, and it looks like it's almost dead. Except yesterday I started sneezing a bit so I decided to take some medicine. Before I took it though, I looked in the mirror and to the sickness said "I'm gonna kick you in the booty."



I dropped my mouth in awe because I couldn't believe that the word "booty" even escaped my lips. But thinking about it later, I laughed because I realized that the one time I really broke my fast it wasn't in talking to a friend or a roommate but it was in talking to myself.



so i don't know which of the two was worse

cried myself sick

I'm at the IHOP library, and I think i might be in the midst of a class going on. I feel like the intruder alert should ring any minute now.

There's this girl (lady? idk) who's passing out some written papers with grades on them. I wonder what the assignment could have been...

"Class ::picks up glasses from her nose::, listen up! Simmer down! Ooh up, down... nice play on words. Anywho, i want you to write me a 400 word paper on Jesus. GO!"

What exactly would one have to do to fail any of these assignments, out of the obvious "not doing them" or "didn't follow the rules" reasons? I couldn't imagine someone getting an F because they missed the mark on explaining how much Abba loves them. Or because their testimony was just a tad too dramatic.

"Now, Timmy, I just had to fail you on this paper because... well... I think Jesus loves you just a little bit more than the way you wrote here."

I really hope they don't have that computer program that lets you read or look at what people do/write on these computers. I don't think they'd appreciate this. But I'm not making fun of IHOP or this class or anyone. It's just one of my thinking cap moments. I obviously have no knowledge of the class going on or knowledge on anything for that matter. So let's continue on with the conversation.

I'm going to see Ryan Adams in two weeks! Can't hardly wait. Before I left home, I remember thinking of how nice it would be if I got to see him while I was here. :) Beck plays this next week, so I'm going early in hopes of them selling tickets at the door.

It looks like Victor is coming up here to visit and drive back down with me. I was seriously over-joyed this morning thinking about it. It'll be a nice bonding experience, but I couldn't help to think that we are so old now. We have our own money, our own cars, our own free will to do as we please without the parentals breathing down our necks.

And finally, I finished "A Farewell to Arms" and the ending made me cry. I want to re-read it and maybe start one of those weekly book clubs to discuss (which makes me sound that much older, huh?)

Anyways, I really should leave now.

We're off to see the city!

I never knew how much I would love to be disconnected from the outside world. I mean, I knew that I was always a fan of alone time but this is great.

At my house, all I have to keep me entertained is my little $5 am/fm radio and the dearest Hemingway book my eyes have ever seen("Farewell to Arms" is by far the best story I have ever read. It's so engaging and I highly recommend it). At first I was obsessed with reading only one chapter a day, but that was far too difficult. Besides, I can always go downtown and just buy another :) Maybe "The Old Man and the Sea" is next.

The radio is for the obvious purpose of music and at times a little talk radio.
:: Side note, but I wish there were more liberals on the radio. Not that I'm necessarily a liberal (i'd like to meddle in the middle and say i'm a moderate), but the Fox News mentality is cringe-inducing sometimes ::

But getting back to the main idea, it feels amazing being by yourself. On the way to the Jenny Lewis show, I remember having a conversation with God and it was totally a movie moment. Only me and God.

I really think the spirit of peace and thankfulness hit me at that moment as I was driving in the Kansas outskirts. I wish you guys could feel what I felt. I just felt so happy and endebted to be by myself, in the car Jesus bought me, without a care in the world, looking for a new adventure.

I told my dad about it as best I could and all he said was: "I bet you felt like a real American woman," and all I said was "Sure, dad. That must have been it."

I wish I could keep on writing. This feels nice. But everything in moderation (including moderation).

new but not yet improved

Yesterday I went to Wal-Mart with two friends from the program I'm in. One of them is a Brazilian guy from England, and he was telling me how he was having a hard time learning American currency.

When he had arrived at the KC airport, he needed to make a phone call but had no coins on him. So he went to the Starbucks there, took out a $10 bill and asked the cashier to give him all nickels.

&

the other day he tried to pay at Mcdonalds with a penny. Yes, a penny.

Osa and I couldn't stop laughing at him. But he took it graciously, I guess a little happy that he had made us laugh. He then gave me a coin from England as a gift and I'm hoping to God it's worth $20 bucks or something.

I'm trying not to write about the things that I've learned. I kind of don't think that I would do them justice (especially the one on eros and agape love. my God, I'm so messed up from that). If people want to know, then they can ask (which they have) and I would gladly spill.

My roommate asked me the other day what I would do if I had a year off and expenses weren't an issue. Feel free to respond in comments with what you guys would do, I would love to know. I kind of thought about it and I think I would do this (the Commission) in churches all over the world. Meaning that I would like to study the different movements of God all over Earth.

I'm starting to miss little random things. I miss mexican food being the default. I miss Erika and Yvonne. and I miss having a puppy.

My husband's gonna let me have a dog at all times. But only one. For example, I'll have "Scruffy" or whatever (Scruffy is a horrible pet name, fyi) and he'll die and i'll mourn for a while but I don't want it to be too long before I have another one. He'll also find me a cat that would be best friends with my dog.

Yeah Yeah Yeah
TOTALLY

subterranean un-homesick alien

Yesterday, around 10 pm, I was walking out of the prayer room. I was in that after-prayer room daze, and as I was walking through the double-doors I felt my feet stop walking. & all I could do was just stare. I was surprised to see that Brownsville wasn't meeting me outside... but after literally one second, I just had an overwhelming sense of peace about that.

I don't necessarily mean that Kansas City is my home. That'd be stupid to feel considering I've only been here for about 2 weeks. No, what I'm getting at is that Brownsville isn't my home. I don't know if it's because I'm in the "honeymoon" phase of my departure from Texas, or whether it's because this is what God has put in my heart (traveling) but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I've been bit by something that Brownsville just can't cure.

You always have those people that are like, "Brownsville isn't that bad," and then they make a face at you for being "holier than thou". I can picture at least 5 people giving me that reaction if they read this. And you know what? Maybe it's not that bad for you. Maybe you actually enjoy being bored out of your mind; going to Starbucks for the eleventh time this week; listening to the same 5 songs on the radio as you drive over there.

Side Note: kc radio is rad. sometimes i think 96.5 is like mana to my ears. (that's pushing it. sorry Jesus. But he knows my humor)

anyways, what's the point of this ramble? No point. just wanted to vent. don't have a computer at my house so this nasty trinitron monitor is a delicacy.

i love God. i really do.

I made two new IHOP budz. Connie and Ferika.

Connie made two friends today. Both of them bald, except one was black and one was white. The white bald guy almost hit her face with the camera. The black bald guy doesn't know who Connie is. She tickels my funny bone.

"Call me ASAP! I was watching the news and I heard the short bus flipped over & I know how you don't wear your helmet! Are you ok??"

Ferika rode the short bus today. Well, the shuttles. They looked icky to me but she said they were cool. She also got Connie in a leg lock and Connie farted in her face because she was afraid (not scared).

::you're sitting next to someone. they look interesting so you kind of want to talk to them. it sort of seems like they want to also. But then neither does. so that sucks.::

Remember how I wrote about Vivienne? And how I wanted her to be more attractive than me? Well, I got my wish. sort of.

Turns out that everyone in Kansas City is beautiful. Maybe its because they all look so different than people back home. But you can't go outside without seeing really attractive people.
I have never felt so ugly and i can feel my insecurities rising.

I saw this pretty girl the other day and I started feeling self-conscious. So I tried thinking "You know what Sylvia, God thinks you're beautiful." Afterwards I felt like a loser for two reasons.

1.) I felt like that idiot in school that is really weird and says stuff like, "Well, my mom says I'm special." and everyone laughs because being weird is not special.
&
2.) I said afterwards, "God can probably see she's still more beautiful."

I don't know why I prayed for Him to help me with my insecurities. They suck. But I guess this is God, huh? no one said it'd be easy i guess...