HOME!

Well, I left the mid-90 degree temps in Tucson and I'm sitting here wrapped up in three layers of clothes including my mexican poncho and I'm still shivering... it's snowing here in Ohio. It's been snowing all day long.

It's so strange to be back, especially to be back in Ontario where new stores and housing developments pop up overnight. They've accumulated in the past 6 months and the change is overwhelming.

The disaster of my bedroom is overwhelming. I've taken on the project of clearing a walkway so I can move everything back in and maybe someday get to my bed so I can sleep there again. It's not as weird as I thought being out of the job and no school to go back to. I could get used to this for alittle while. My plan for November and December? Clear that path to my bed, hang out with my sister-in-law and the new nephew Carter, and look for a job somewhere, sometime...

I'll have to get a picture of the new kid to put on here. Definitely the cutest baby I've ever seen, but who could expect anything less from a Neff, right?

soaking up the sun while I still can

Well, here I am in Tucson, AZ visiting my aunt Casey and uncle Punch. They live in a beautiful house out in the desert beneath the shadow of Catback Mountain and bordering Saguaro National Park. I arrived here on Saturday after moving out of the dorm Thursday and staying the night with friends Jock and Robin Whitworth in Hurricane and driving 8 hours or so the next morning to Payson, AZ where I stayed with my friend Rayne and his family. Got to hike around some really cool rocks that evening and drive off the road to spot elk with the headlights and got stuck. Woke up Saturday morning and drove 4 more hours or so on to Tucson. It was amazingly familiar. As soon as I got off the main highway, it was like reliving a dream and I floated on wheels out to the desert where the sky grew and the cactus gathered around my car.

I love how the desert sky becomes so geometrically artful within the framework of the ocotillo. It's odd because I can't describe what happens when the red clouds dance behind the tall cactus arms, but something powerful takes place. The scenery doesn't change. I do. My perception of it all finds an emotion and runs away with it. I love the feeling it brings me. I want to run and curl up in a safe ball all at once. The ocotillo and the saguaro join together stretching their arms upward and celebrate the evening sky and I am reminded of how small I am. I wish to join them, but I don't begin to fit in. They are beautiful desert giants. I am small and simple and I have to force my mind to take notice of the glories around me.

I have always known that I am made alive in the desert. The sun melts my skin to bronze and I can sit for hours watching the colors of my legs dance with the oranges and reds of the desert dust. They know they are meant to be together. And the meeting of color and the sun's rays sending flashes of light across my eyes fills me with simple desert delights. I find my strength here, my joy, my energy.

But I miss Zion. How odd it is to walk this desert road and find the subject of wonder is the sky rather than the towering red rocks. I took a nap out in the sun the other afternoon and when I woke up at 5 to feel the sun's rays still burning on my cheeks, I remembered that in Zion the sun would have already set. I miss the red rock cliffs. I miss the constant whisper of the Virgin River. I miss waking up each morning to watch the blood red sunlight drip down the Altar of Sacrifice outside my bedroom window. Some mornings when I'd have to go to work early I'd complain that I was waking up before the rocks did. As I walked out to my car, though, I'd turn around to see the Towers of the Virgin finally rising from slumber, peeking into the sunrise light like a blanket slowly pulled from its face. The sunlight in the canyon was brief and I learned to appreciate every second the canyon gave me. At night, I lifted my eyes to view the window of stars and watched the Milky Way slowly appear as a diagonal curtain over the dark sky. The moon would then rise over the cliff and gave the rocks a second chance to shine again and then they'd shoot off colors- reds! yellows! oranges! greens! glow-in-the-dark whites!

Loving Tucson. Missing Zion. Craving to be back in Ohio. What in the world do I want...

By the way... my brother called today from home. A new baby boy, James Carter Neff, came today. I am finally an Aunt. Casey says I should be called Tia. I like that better than "aunt Juli." That just sounds old. I'm not old. So excited to drive home this friday with my parents!

Day Off

Today I hiked up to Scout's lookout and took a nap in the sun. Well, I wasn't crazy enough to fall asleep because I was laying near the ledge with a 1000 foot drop or so beneath me. So I lay there, rather wirey and alert, but still enjoying the sunshine. I finally got up after I heard too many hikers passing by, "If that girl even rolls over, (sound effects), she's gone."

The view of Angel's Landing and the Great White throne was amazing. I have some really fun pictures of Angel's landing I've been meaning to post on here. I'll have to do that soon.

I turned left and didn't do Angel's landing today, but hiked out alittle ways on the west rim trail. Incredible rock on this trail. It made me want to do the whole thing sometime. There are many things I've learned to do alone. But I decided this trail won't be one of them.

As I hiked along, I met four retired state troopers who dubbed me "the nicest gal on the trail so far." I didn't know if this was sarcasm or if they really meant that to mean something.

They said I needed something other than pictures of rocks, so this is their contribution.


I hiked down with them later and as they breaked and I took off down the switchbacks they yelled out, "Thanks for talking to the Duke! Just make sure you get to the sheriff's office soon for a restraining order." "Thanks for the warning," I called back, not really knowing what they were talking about.

Cool cool trail. Amazing views of the canyon.

When I got back from my hike, Arik, one of my housemates was dying to go get a buffalo burger. I fell to the pressure and agreed to go, even though I declared upon leaving, "I'd be a vegetarian if I could like vegetables." Buffalo wasn't on my list of meats I was anxious to try, especially after passing fields of them on our way up to the restaurant.

When we pulled into the dirt lot, I wasn't sure where exactly the restaurant was, till we saw the big ole entrance sign and the restaurant dogs greeting us in the yard. I heard some guy yell from inside, "We have people!" or something like that. And he promptly came out, brushed his hands on his apron and told us to take a seat inside or out and "how the hell are ya?!?!" "Fine thankyou," as I quickly chose a table outside. I didn't want to know what was on the inside.

This was our menu...

Sad news, they were all out of the rabbit rattlesnake sausage.

Or maybe the population was down... of rabbits or rattlesnakes, I'm not sure.

What the heck is this?


(see next entry to find the answer...)


(hint: we had a ball!)

I was excited to see Dr. Pepper on the menu... my addictions have not ceased. I was surprised to receive an old jam jar to drink it out of. For some reason, my Dr. Pepper tasted kind of chemically and I blamed it on the glass. I have this weird phobia of drinking out of glass glasses.

Note the sign in the background... "Please do not feed dogs." Several dogs sat at our table with us, salivating over our buffalo burgers and Rocky Mountain oysters... yes, you read that correctly. I ate the balls from some animal. I can't believe I did it, well, I only took a smallish bite. But I can now say I've done it.

This is Olga. The locals were having a grand time placing a bandana over her old cataract-ed eyes and giggling about it. Poor old Olga.

get ready for overload of worthless story and picture

The following posts were all supposed to be part of the same entry but I can't seem to post more than one picture without freezing up my computer and having to restart it, which I've stupidly done several times tonight. The strange shadows in the corners of my pictures are because I have a wide-angle lens which doesn't fit on my camara so I try to hold it steady in front of my lens, but as you can see, I often miss.

So yesterday morning on my day off I went to Snow Canyon in St. George. It was so gorgeous. I was alittle afraid going alone, but it turned out to be alright. It’s kinda funny that I could probably count on my fingers how many words I spoke to another human all day… It was a lonely day, but it was fine, not like some of my other lonely days.

I've sometimes heard Snow canyon nicknamed "little Zion" because it has very similar landscapes. I think it is an intersection of the Mohave desert, the Great Basin, and the Colorado Plateau. There are active sand dunes and others are petrified. There’s an old volcano and tons of lava flows. Desert shrubs like live oak, creosote, and sage are everywhere and the contrast of these beautiful greens against the blacks of volcanic rock and desert varnish on the sandstone and the red rocks and blue sky are astounding.

My favorite part was the sand dunes… I took so many pictures there. At first, I acted so mature. I walked along, disgusted that other people have torn the dunes apart with their footprints. Why can’t we all just walk along the same path instead of having to tread our own and leave a mess behind?

But then I began paying closer attention to the details… I saw cute little prints from some bird or lizard. I decided these prints were ok.

And then I spotted some prints left by a crazy child in bare feet. They were all over the place; running around in circles, jumping up and down, then rolling around in the sand. I decided to follow the prints. I found myself stomping around in the same stomping marks left by the little feet. It made me smile. I decided these prints were also alright.

And as I followed the child’s prints, they joined paths with the bigger footsteps and soon we were all travelling together, and I decided these prints were acceptable too because we all start out with child’s feet and we remain the same person. Our feet just grow alittle. But that’s when I looked down and realized I was still wearing my shoes.

It is alright for a child’s feet to grow into an adult’s in time. It’s inevitable. But what I was doing was letting my feet get to my head. I was forgetting that I was that same child still. Now these prints were unacceptable and I allowed them to go no further.



I kicked off my shoes and I jumped and played in the sand the whole way back to my car. Sometimes it was so soft and so deep that it came up to my knees. I fell on my butt a couple times but I acted like I meant to. It was just me and a giant sandbox. I needed that little reminder today of Juli the child.

I took some pictures of Scrappy because he's such a good companion (and model!)...

I let him wear the ranger hat just once...

And Scrappy took a couple pics of me...

(I know, you really think I've gone off the deep end)

fire dancers and pot smokers and me

There is a night security guard looking at me right now... I am sitting in my usual parking space in the dark lot... my face lit up in an eerie green glow from my computer screen. All summer I have come to the hotel parking lot to steal their wireless internet "waves" and they've never caught me. Don't you dare catch me now. I've almost made it.

Ok, he's gone. More important things to do. Brr... my toes are freezing. I can't believe seasons have come and gone and it's actually fall here in Zion. I remember driving in the first week of June and seeing snow still up on the caps of the surrounding mountains. I remember seeing all that snow melt in July and watching the Virgin river swell and pull the surrounding banks into it's current. I remember when it was too dangerous to hike the slot canyons when the flash floods were high and when the Narrows water was too fast. I remember the sad look on that German man's face when I told him it was closed and he said he'd been planning to hike the Narrows all his life and this was finally the trip. I remember that weird week in July when it hailed every day. I miss those nights when the rocks baked in the sun all day and kept all of us in the canyon warm during the night and I could walk around in shorts and tshirt and take a night nap on the bench outside the lodge. I remember the night when I awoke from my thoughts to find two skunks hanging out underneath my bench and other nights when grey fox would sneak up to sniff my toes. And now it's fall. The leaves in the higher elevations have already turned to yellows and reds. It's already snowed an hour away from us and the snowbirds have come down from the mountains to visit Zion "to get away from the cold." And I sit here tonight with my toes freezing. The cold has finally reached us too.

The other night I had my first and only bonfire for the summer. How sad is that. One of the park service guys is going back home to Ohio for school and he had a going away party. There was a weather advisory for strong winds for that night and all of southern Utah was asked to not have fires, yet that is exactly what we did. I looked around the circle and in the glow of the fire I could recognize almost every face. Springdale is small. The same person that serves you coffee one place is your waiter at the next restaurant. They were serving drinks out of the back of a pickup truck and some people had reached the idiot mode pretty early on because they had already come from the bar. I stood there throwing the stick for the dog. Lucky me, he always came back to play again. He was faithful. I needed a friend. Every once in awhile I glance back to see what people were doing. Some were twirling fire. One guy was riding a unicycle around blowing fire, except he increasingly fell on his face as he drank more and more to get more fuel for his firey breath. Other people were standing around smoking pot. I listened as their conversations turned more philosophical and watched as their mouths hung open more in a state of amazement at words such as "the" and "it." My side of the fire was alittle less interesting. We stood around talking and I threw the stick for the dog. I was surrounded by people, yet I realized I was completely alone.

I'm ready. I love Zion. I love the beauty of it all but I'm so ready to be home. I'm tired of being lonely. I live in community, yet the odd thing about community like this is that you can sit there in a room full of people and watch a movie, yet only be masking the fact that you're still alone. Physically, you're social... intellectually, you're dying inside. I had a weird dream last night about being back home and walking the streets alone. Everything was so grey and though I've been told some of us dream in color and others not, I've never been so aware of the grey of my dreams before. I met up with a carnival. It looked like fun, but I walked on because there was no one to enjoy it with. And the odd reminder from the other night, as I weaved in and out of the shops in my dreamy town, a dog followed me, asking me to throw the stick.

What now?

Drury asked the question "what now?" Good question... what in the world am I doing out here in Utah and where am I going from here? The answer is, I have no clue.

Story of my summer...
Drove out to Utah with my mom less than a week after I returned home from the PCT hike with Drury. Had no clue what my job was going to be. I only knew I was going to do worship services somewhere in the park and work somewhere in Zion Lodge.

Driving out west has to be one of my top 5 favorite things to do ever. Mom and I listened to "A Walk in the Woods" on cd (Drury suggested this on the trail... wow, what a cool book), but usually had to pause it cause we kept zoning out and forgetting to watch the scenery, or the road. We stayed in hotels the whole way cause mom wants nothing but the best... always "two queen beds for the two queens" she kept saying. And, a pool and hot tub were another requirement. Nothing like living in luxury, especially after the hike. Arrived in Zion and mom stayed in my dorm room for the week as I began training to work at the front desk, greeting visitors and checking them into the hotel. Mom went alittle crazy with the camara during the days, taking pictures of every corner of the park she could walk to from the shuttle. I couldn't wait till I could finally go out and explore.

During the next two months I worked at the lodge and held worship services at the lodge and campgrounds for park visitors with my friends Eric and Dale. Eric and Dale worked at the lodge too and they weren't very happy when I shared that I got a job with the park service and would be moving down the canyon and wouldn't really see them as much anymore.

In August, I began my job as a "park ranger" (if you can call someone that who collects fees and wears the smokey the bear hat). All day long I have people taking pictures and videos of me. I can't count how many childhood scrapbooks I will be a part of, standing next to little kids who aspire to be real park rangers. I don't want to disappoint them by telling them I only take money at the entrance gates.

Every week after the worship services, Eric and Dale and I would go hiking. Though I've pretty much stayed in Utah all summer, I feel I've seen the world. I've hiked Observation Point, Angel's Landing (in the dark and in the light), Hidden Canyon, Emerald Pools, Chinle Trail and Coalpits Wash, the East Rim Trail, rapelled in the Keyhole, through-hiked The Narrows, hiked around Lake Powell, Antelope Canyon, Hop Valley, and some trail from Kolob through Hop Valley (which involved some backpacking no one at IWU would be proud of... I swear I only took a small backpack, but if you could only have seen Eric and Dale...). There are other small trails that I can't think of right now. Such amazing hiking here. I just recently did my first real rappelling hike where I kicked a guy in the face when I thought I was going to fall. Got a chance to visit Vegas when my parents came out and I'll be returning this weekend when my friend Shawna comes out to visit. Got to fly to Pennsylvania for a family reunion and flew to Chicago for Becky and Jared's wedding (kinda a last minute decision, but it was great to see everyone again). I don't ever feel like I'm sitting still.

After three months, I feel I have just begun to explore Zion. The canyon is right outside of a small hippie community of Springdale. It's somewhat of a rebellion toward all that is Utah. The streets are lined with fun little restaurants and art galleries and outdoor adventure shops. There's only one Mormon church and the one bar in town doesn't even enforce the required appetizer with alcohol purchase. In every respect, Sprindale is it's own world, and it likes it that way.

I was just sitting at the town park this morning and met a stereotypical Sprindaler. He drove a Toyota Tacoma (if you do not drive this truck, well, it's best you just leave town), walked his dog (every guy must own a dog for picking up chicks with it's cute tricks), he had long hair, hawaian shirt, and sandals. We talked religion, because it's just inevitable that you will discuss religious philosophies in Springdale because everything beyond Mormonism is "pretty sweet." (Actually I'm sitting in a coffee shop right now and the barristas are discussing God, rather loud...) His story doesn't get any better... He broke down in Zion with a bunch of his buddies years ago, went hitchhiking for alittle over a year, came back, tried to go travel the country again, but was called back again to Zion. He can't get away. Now he grows organic tomatos for a living. Everyone here seems to have just "broken down" down here. Everyone seems to be on a permanant vacation. It's so laid back. Really cool, odd people.

So what am I doing here and where am I going?
I think I really like it here, which kind of scares me. I really miss people back home, but I can just imagine the knots in my stomach when I get back to Ohio and crave to be surrounded by the red rocks that have become somewhat of a security blanket for me. It looks like I'll be here a little longer than expected. I was hired originally to work August and September. But we've lost a couple people and more may be leaving to help with Hurricane relief, so they've asked if I can stay longer. Of course, I accepted. I have nothing planned. So it looks like I'll be returning to Ohio late October or beginning of November. What then? I have a feeling it will all fall together like this summer has.

Ok, that was a really long answer to the question... and it wasn't an answer...
If anyone has any ideas for what I can do with myself, let me know. I'll be out of the job soon...

I have an address now!!!

Wow, I finally feel like I'm not homeless. I decided after two months of living in Zion that I'd get a PO Box so I can use it this last month I'll be here. My address if anyone wants to send a little greeting is:

Juli Neff
PO Box 973
Springdale, UT 84767

Think that's right. If it's not, the mail will get to me anyway. I like being in a small town. The post office lady knows me and always asks about my job. The job's going pretty well. I have my moments (and they're increasing) when I really want to go home. I don't miss Ohio especially. I just miss the familiar people. Even after being out here for 3 months, I still find it hard to feel known. People know me and I know them but they only know me 3 months old. They don't know my past. They don't know the dork I was in middle school. They don't even know the whatever I was in college. They don't know my family or my friends. They only know the Juli I have been since coming out to Utah and what if it's the wrong Juli? What if I sort of forgot who I was and have been faking my identity since? They wouldn't know the difference. I want to be with people who know the difference. People who can remind me of who I am when I forget. I forget a lot. I do appreciate the friends I've made out here though. I just feel ready to see the old ones again. I'm sure I'll miss this place so much once I'm gone but I'm ready to go home. I miss my dog.

lightning strikes

Last night I was driving back from Hurricane and watched the most amazing sky I have ever seen. I kept thinking of reasons to stop even though I needed to get back. First, I stopped at a gas station to use the bathroom, then I decided it was a good time to check my oil (even though the wind was swirling around me like Kansas and almost blew my hood shut on my fingers), and then I stopped again at another gas station (this time, I figured I'd really fill up my tank). Then I drove by La Verkin overlook and decided I'd turn down that road and watch the night sky up on the ridge, but reality got ahold of me too fast and told me that was a stupid idea to sit up on a mountain ridge with lightning all around me. So I headed back to Zion. I felt like I was walking down the red carpet and camaras were all on me and flashing all around me. But instead, I was driving the curvy desert roads with a storm that seemed to stretch all of Utah.

Defeated, I drove back into the canyon, where the cool lightning was hidden behind the rock walls and I could only see the light sometimes. Couldn't stand it, so Jeff, one of my housemates, and I decided to go for a drive and find a good place for pictures. So we drove, and drove, and realized the only good place would be somewhere up high, where we'd be stupid to be. But we drove to none other than LaVerkin overlook and sat up on the mountain ridge, overlooking the city, with lightning in front of us, behind us, and above us. Another one of the stupider things I've ever done, but it seems the stupidest things are the most rewarding.

Jeff got some incredible pictures and I hope to steal some and put them on here. I'd never seen lightning like this. It was eerie and silent, but the clouds were on fire. I love the west.

Ibrahim Ferrer and the Buena Vista Social Club

Remember when they'd pass around an attendance sheet at IWU meetings or classes and strange and suspect names would suddenly appear? Or maybe that was only the religion division. I could never contain my smile when I'd watch poor Bonita go around collecting the clipboards, just imagining her trying to figure out who in the world goes by the name Jiminy Crickett or the typical Seymour Butts (I bet she figured those ones out). But my greatest joy (I mean, it literally made me kick my feet back and forth underneath me in glee) was writing Ibrahim Ferrer and the Buena Vista Social Club. I think they attended all of our senior year meetings and religion department functions.

Sad news guys. Ibrahim will no longer be attending. He passed away on Saturday.
http://www.cnn.com/2005/SHOWBIZ/Music/08/06/ferrer.obit.ap/index.html

But don't let that keep you from checking out some great music that can transcend all musical trends and top 40 lists. Some of you may have had the pleasure of listening to it in my little Scrappy... especially a group of 6 (or 7?) of you that crammed into my car to go to Icehouse that one last time. I miss those days too much. I'll pop the cd back in tonight and reminisce.

juli

happy feet

My feet are soft. I took off my Xanterra employee shirt for the last time and kicked off my brown shoes, stripped my second skin khaki pants, and pullled off my socks to reveal clean, healthy feet. I smiled to myself as I touched the skin as if for the very first time. The mystical lady at Muddy River Books told me back in June that dry, cracked feet mean that you do not like where you are placed. How right she was. It seems my mood must have determined it all because at the time I would have given almost anything just to get out of here. I did not like where I was placed, not at all.

But now I’m soft. I have the tendency to grow fond of most anything after awhile, just because it becomes familiar and comfortable. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that my bed sheets don’t fit and are always full of little black bugs amongst the wrinkles. Suddenly it makes no difference to me whether I live in a dorm full of older men or a floor full of annoying Russian girls. I don’t mind showering behind a clear door now. I’m used to the strange stench my room always has and how my blinds are always closed keeping out the sunlight. I enjoy my trips to the hammock to make my phone calls. Driving to town to check my email is no inconvenience. Mistakes I make at work are just something more to laugh at and I laugh at the thought of how terrified I was of this job to begin with. I now realize everyone creepily knew my name the moment I got here because indeed this is a soap opera and everyone is involved in everyone’s business and I am aware of that and accept it. People I have never met before have been coming up to me today to tell me "Juli, congrats on the park ranger job. We’ll miss you around here." I want to say "Thankyou, ______," but then I realize I’ve been living in a self-centered mindset that finds no interest in knowing names.

I look up at the calendar hanging on my wall. It says August now. I remember when it seemed it would call out June forever. I think I am still under the misunderstanding that I will return home in late September expecting to start June all over again. I don’t feel like I am missing an Ohio summer. I feel like it’s not happening anyway. How could an Ohio summer be going on without me? It won’t go on without me. Can’t wait to go home in time for June picnics and July bonfires and August meteorite shower nights where we’ll sleep out in my backyard under the stars.

That calendar is one of the only things decorating my walls. I longed at night to be able to glance around a room full of color and stillframes, but it seems a part of me always knew this was just a step. My life has always been a staircase. One step leads to another. I move toward an intended destination and find once I get there that it is only another step, leading me onward. Don’t know if I ever will get to experience the top.

So there won’t be a whole lot of packing tonight. Don’t think so atleast. Just going to load up some milk crates full of books and toiletries. Fill a couple shopping bags with clothes. Gather my mexican blanket and pillow up in my arms and load my car. I move into the Park Service dorms tomorrow. Though I’ll still be around Zion, I know things will be different. I’m going to actually miss this place. I already miss my job.

I realized tonight that the old man who sits in front of the dorm all the time just staring off into space really just longs to fly. I never could figure out what was wrong with him. He looks at his feet when he walks and grunts if you say hi to him. He puts no effort into raising the corners of his mouth into any sort of smile and darts his eyes quickly away if you catch him even glancing up. I made it my goal to figure him out and get him to say a word, any word, to me. Last night I startled him out of his daze with a "Hello!" He quickly said "Hello" back to me in a squeal as if I had accused him of something. Tonight I walked past him one last time to see him intensely studying pictures of airplanes in a magazine. He just wants to escape. He needs to fly.
A lot of people here need to escape. And I hope they do. They use this place as a stepping stone (like I did) and they hope that Zion will heal their drug and alcohol addications. They use it as a stopping point just after a nasty divorce has left them dry. They try out new personalities on this eager crowd so they can go home a new person, only to find none of us believed their lies to begin with. We knew it was all fake. And many of them just sit outside the dorm, staring off into space, and look at pictures of airplanes, using this place as a rock to sit upon as they create their own world in their minds. Many succeed. Many people here are living in a fantasy world. And I hope they escape. I’ve never seen the security guard without earphones in his ears. Tonight I wondered if he just left them there all the time, no music playing, just a wall to keep others out of his world. It works.

I came here hating the thought of getting to know these people. I just wanted to get back to Ohio where everyone’s "normal." Somewhere in the past two months, these odd people have shown me the flipside of my perfect world, a place where life is not always fair. Most of the time it is extremely unfair. A place where those who were once homeless on the streets of Vegas are now doing the laundry of rich lodge guests, but a place to sleep and eat and 6 bucks and hour beats the streets they once roamed. But they still long for something more and they sit outside the dorm with me at night and tell me all their fanatic philosophies about who God really is and how we’re supposed to live our lives. They rarely give me the chance to speak, so I think I’ve been changed more than they have. I realized that everything I have ever been taught about God has been held out at arm’s length, and I bring it closer to my chest once it has been tested and made real in my life. Todd likes to prophesy to me about the end times. It has been meaningless information so far, but someday I will allow it to take shape in my own understanding. It works the other way around too. I can tell Rachel that God loves her, but I don’t think she allowed that truth into her life until last week when she enrolled, was accepted to, and attended orientation for college. She told me she knew God was clearing the way. Her evidence was the money that was placed in her hands and the paycheck that came 6 months late equalling the amount she needed. Though I’ve doubted Christianity more than ever before in my life, I believe I have grown in my faith more than ever in my life because when all is refined in the fire, the gold remains, purer than ever.

This place I once thought filthy has made me clean. I get to move to the next step tomorrow.

The Wave

The next few pictures are from a hike we took last week out toward Lake Powell. We actually crossed the AZ border at one point. It's called the Wave. We had to get a permit the day before, pay a small chunk of money, and pray for dry skies. The next day, we drove out in my little hatchback and encountered a 7 mile stretch of dirt road and washes with a sign that said, "Warning. Road impassible when wet." All the signs told us to turn around, but we kept going cause we're stubborn like that. Even when it began to rain, that didn't matter. We were determined to check this place out. It was worth it.

The wave is one of the most mysterious rock formations I've ever seen. And that means a lot from someone out in Utah, where no rock is "normal." And the stormy skies made for some sweet pictures. If anyone ever gets the chance, you gotta do this one.

Glamour Shot

Ridin the wave! (in style)

More Wave

The Wave

and these are the days of our lives...

I am so tired of this soap opera. I am ready for a change. I am one of the few people that actually enjoys the front desk job at Zion Lodge, but I am tired of fake people. There are some people I am going to miss so much when I move next Friday, but too many people know the secret- that we are only here for a few months and we get to be whatever fantasy characters we want to be for those few months and rumors are meant to be spread because there's nothing else to talk about. I hope this is a good change for me.

I will be working at the entrance station to the park now. Yes, I have to wear the offical park ranger getup, with the ugly green pants pulled up way too high and the silly smokey the bear hat falling over my eyes. My friends here from the Lodge are going to fly past the entrance station now yelling "Traitor!" But the good side of all this... I get to have a change. I get to be a park ranger. I will be in the park service, which means I can transfer to one closer to home pretty easily. And I will be paid more than twice what I get at the lodge. The money thing was honestly the last thing I realized about this job. I never expected to make much money in life. This will be a convenient side-note... a very convenient one.

All this came about in such an odd way. A park ranger named Sam gave me an application one day, saying I'd really enjoy this job. I had never talked to Sam about my job or any desires to leave it or work for the Park Service, though I did want to get in. So I thought about filling it out, missed the due date, woke up the following Monday and decided what the heck, I'll turn in something just to say I did. I half-heartedly filled some stuff out, made some type of resume, and went to the office to turn it in. When I walked in, I changed my mind and said, "you know what? nevermind. I don't want to waste your time with this because I just realized I'd have no place to live even if you hired me. Could you just keep this till this fall maybe when you can offer housing?" A few days later I get a call saying they found housing and they need me to work now. So I debated forever and was discussing it with one of my managers one day and I told him how I just really need to know the reason why Sam gave me the application in the first place. That would help me decide. If it was just some gut feeling, I'd give all this a second look. I trust gut. I turned around and walking straight toward the desk was Sam. And the first words he says to me are, "You know Juli? I really think you need to take this job. I didn't tell you, but I just had a feeling about it. That's why I gave you the application. There was no real reason, just a gut feeling."

I took the job.

red rocks vs. naked bums in my face

A couple weeks ago, I was given an application for a park service job (to be a "ranger"... not the cool kind, but the mean, fee-taking, pretend you're tough but really powerless kind) because one of the rangers thought I'd really like this job. I turned it in but I told them that I was interested in a job starting after this one ends in September. Well, the other day when I went to pick up my parents from their flight to Las Vegas, my phone rang and it was the park service to let me know they want me to start on the 24th... It all depends if they can find housing for me or not, but I can't figure out what to do. It would be great money, but I'm finally getting the hang of this job at the lodge. I'm not ready to sacrifice the little social life I have here in the dorms yet either.

Speaking of the great social life in the dorms... The other night I came back to the dorm and sat around the front yard with 5 older guys that live upstairs. Sad reality... sometimes I can relate to these older men better than the college age goofs that live in the other dorm. I hope that doesn't mean I've become old and rigid and mature. But the night took a turn of excitement none of us expected when a man three doors down from me was threatening another guy with his knife collection because he had been off his medication for a couple weeks now. Soon the rangers arrived in their little ranger-cop cars and came up the hill to our dorm. All of us took off. I went to my room and locked the door. I had no clue if I should expect a series of gunfire or if I could open my door and peer down the hallway to watch the guy be taken away half-sober in handcuffs. Later that night, when I thought all of the chaos was over, I went to the bathroom to get ready for bed and almost ran right into the rangers as I came out. They were leaving without the man and without the knife collection. I wasn't surprised to hear that his roomate never came to bed that night. I think he must have slept in the hammock down by the other dorms.

On Sunday, a group of us hiked up the Narrows and alittle ways down Orderville canyon and back. It was incredible. If you've never heard of the Narrows, it is the world-famous hike here. Supposedly one of the very best hikes you can do in the US. Our guide was actually the superintendent of Zion National Park... pretty special opportunity to get to hike with the big guy. He's part of the ministry support committee here for the three of us who do the services in the park. This is the only national park where the head of the park is so involved with the Christian ministry like this. So he took us through the Narrows and taught us all kinds of things we'd never have known. Cannot wait to do the full hike someday.

That night, we went to his house and had dinner together and my parents came along. Then we headed off for Vegas, randomly. We had no real plans, except that I had Monday off and we had no place to stay for the night anyway. The night was gorgeous. Wildfires lit up the mountain as we drove away from the little town of Hurricane. We drove through a canyon and the moonlight lit up the cliffs on my right. The heat was so intense that the breeze through the window stung my eyes. Then we came over a ridge and the city just glowed golden across the horizon. The heat rising in the city made the lights flicker and glisten. We stayed in the MGM Grand. I felt very insignificant in that giant hotel, but it was worth the experience. Went and saw the strip and finally got to sleep at 4 am. Saw a magic show yesterday because it was one of the only shows minus naked bodies I was ok with seeing with my parents. Saw enough naked bodies on the trash laying on the street. Saw enough of Vegas. Sorry, I'm not a huge fan. I like being back in Zion, back where the red rocks are glowing outside my window in the rising moonlight.

sick

i am
so sick
of the nightly drunk people
and the way they choose
to have theological conversations with you
at midnight
yet never take a moment from
their own ramblings
for you to squeeze in a little
"I'm sorry, I'm falling asleep. I need to go to bed now."

I'm in DC right now, trying to figure out something fun to do with my brother. Just got off of a long weekend in Pennsylvania with the entire family. We were having a reunion to celebrate our roots with a pretty sweet guy Judge White (all you who ever wondered about my middle name...). I have a strange family. But the weekend was without a single dull moment. Had family come from California, Arizona, Texas, Ohio, Vermont, (Utah), and Sweden! And some other places I can't remember.

I think I've finally caught up on some sleep. Last weekend Jeremy and Karla came to visit me. Spent monday, tuesday, and wednesday camping out behind the dorms in Zion. I took off Wednesday to go hiking with them. Went out to eat and met up with Matt, Tim, and Phil who then stayed till Friday. It was so good to see familiar faces again. I love those guys. All of us were tripping on our own feet because we were so sleepy- Tim and Phil from driving out from Indiana, me from staying up each night with Jeremy and Karla- but we all decided Wednesday night that we needed to get a hike in before I had to leave for Pennsylvania. So at 11 pm we set out on Angel's Landing trail. One of the stupider things I've done. The moon never came out and it is pitch black out there. We'd peer over the cliff with our little headlamps and it was so far down that the light never reached anything to light up. Just darkness. And a creepy, chilly wind. But we were all to proud to ever turn around. We can say we've hiked Angel's landing, but we cannot say we've ever seen it. Got maybe an hour and a half of sleep that night before going to work at 6 am.

Caught a shuttle to Vegas after meeting the guys one last time to get some gelato. Slept a bit in my layover in Denver but was awakened and alert when I heard a Jehova's Witness try to witness to a Mormon. Was too sleepy to add my two cents. It was very interesting to listen to. I wish we could all learn to keep our ears open when someone of another faith begins to share. Instead, we argue our points even harder and shut up our minds even tighter. Didn't get any sleep on the flight to Baltimore because I met an interesting guy who I talked to for the entire 5 hours or so. He reminded me so much of Anthony Riske! Even worked at a Christian "adventure" camp. Actually, I think I tricked my mind into thinking it was Riske just because it felt so nice to talk to an old friend again. I didn't mind that I didn't get any sleep again. I made it up on this weekend.

Hope to write more often now that I'm getting internet issues worked out. I'm told there's a hotel in town I can go to to get wireless... and no annoying librarians who give me a few minutes and then roll their eyes and sigh when I ask for a couple more. Also, I'm going to figure out the picture thing... soon!

I love visitors, so if you're in the area of Utah, let me know. I'll find you a place to stay. Sorry this post is uninspiring, unenthusiastic, lacking big words and fancy philosphies, but just a story of what I've done in the past week. I'll have to get that mystical side of my brain working again soon. It's been taking a long break.

Zion

I only have a few minutes left to use the internet. I'm at a small cafe in Springdale, UT cause I haven't "bought" my library card yet. I live at the bottom of Zion Canyon, so I don't have internet or phone reception. So if you've tried to get ahold of me, be patient, ok? I have to ride the shuttle to the bus stop to find reception. It is my office.

I love the view here. Red rocks and cliffs and rich red dirt. It feels like home. But it's definitely been an adjustment. The people here are all very different from what I'm used to. They're not even all mormons. They're just, different. I can't figure it out yet. But it really makes me miss home and my family and friends. I never realized how normal you all were.

My job is at the main lodge in the park. I work the front desk where I answer questions I don't know the answers to and check people in and out of their rooms. And occasionally I steal a credit card or two. (on accident of course!)

I live in a dorm. It's called Overlook. It is up on a hillside in the canyon, so we get a bit of a view. My roommate is Oxana. She is from Russia. Really heavy men must live above me because they wake me up at 4 in the morning doing some ritualistic dance where they throw their shoes down from waste-high and then stomp around in circles awhile. I haven't quite figured out the beat yet. Upstairs is mostly 40 year old and up men. Downstairs it's us girls and some random guys thrown in. Very different from IWU. I'm definitely out of the bubble.

Ok, gotta go. I'll try to update this more often. Let me know what you guys are doing when you get the chance! juleschiquita@yahoo.com

juli

out in Cali

I am in Wrightwood, California right now using the computer for the 15 minutes I get, so this is just a quick update. Drury, Kara, Jeff, Ryan and I are all out in California hiking a section of the Pacific Crest Trail. Even though our trip is very short compared to the rest of these hikers we meet that are going all the way to Canada, it's been a journey for us. I went into this thinking it was all Mohave desert and glorious sunshine... but it's the rainiest season on record for California I'm told and I believe it. There's never a lack of clean water to drink though. We've had blistering hot days (not many) and we've had sleet and rain. It's been incredible how people have stepped in and helped us just when we need it. I can't wait to write about all that's happened. I told Kara I'm writing a short story. It's called "I hugged a tree and found Jesus."

Hope to catch up with everyone soon!

letting the shadows go

Disclaimer: If you can't wait to leave college, this isn't for you to read. You'll just think I'm full of crap and that I'm trying to make a huge deal out of just another reality of life. You'll think I'm being too sentimental and flowery. So do me a favor and don't read this if that's you.

I am sitting here in my room typing on a keyboard that sits alone in my top drawer with some loose change. My desk is otherwise empty. My room is empty except for the crates on the floor filled with stuff ready to take home. Katrina moved out tonight and it feels so wierd to look at her corner of the room and accept the fact that she's not coming back. We've lived together for four years now and saying goodbye this time was strange. I can't say that I'll see her next fall. I hate changes.

I laid in bed last night forcing my eyes to stay open, memorizing every corner of our room before it got all packed up and before Katrina moved out, thinking if I stayed awake and memorized it, it would never leave me. I am too easily attached. Change is exciting, but only once I get over the initial shock of losing something comfortable and familiar.

I had to write down all that I was feeling because words finally came to describe it all...

I've heard it said that some are looking forward to never looking back. As I lay here thinking about these four years, I realize I seem to be looking forward to never letting go. I wrap myself around my body pillow, my "husband" I called it freshman year, and I glance around every corner of the room.

Wild light displays slide across the ceiling from cars driving by, lighting areas of the room I missed. My eyes dart back and forth, taking still frames, capturing every piece of this memory
and holding it so it cannot get away. I memorize the familiar shadows. They've been faithful to me, remaining the same all year. When I lay on my back each night and pray, my eyes converse with the forms of this room. And these forms I will not forget.

I want to lay here till sunrise and let the sun steal the shadows away from me because I am unwilling to give them up myself. And I'm afraid to sleep because I fear memories will pack up and sneak out in the dark of the night when I'm not looking.

So I lay here, holding my husband and holding everything hostage.

Katrina sleeps in the bed beneath me. As long as I lie here awake, our last night living together after four years will never end. The sun can only steal that away from me too.

I know soon I will be drifting into sleep and this final night will sneak out. And I will be alone in this room for three days and then I will say farewell to the shadows. They will change when Katrina moves out. I bid farewell to these ones tonight and I will glance down and see Katrina sleeping in the bed below and I will say bye to her too.

But all ends are new beginnings. That's what keeps us moving. We finally learn the journey was the purpose of the destination, not the other way around. We find that once we reach any real destination, we must make new plans for another one because the destination we found only ends up being a load of crap.

The journey's been great. This destination is so sad that I've decided I need to start the next journey as soon as I can. I will go to sleep now and let the shadows go home. I'm ready to start that next journey now.

All good things come to an end

The following is proof that I have completed my college career. I guess a picture at graduation would be better proof, but this is all I have to offer right now. You have to start at the bottom of the pictures. I got a little carried away...

glee! 

what is this? 

the zombie awakes... there might be an end in sight! 

wretched wretched papers. Do profs not realize our brains turned off last week (month)? 

oh no...

I figured out how to do the whole picture thingy...

Do you know what that means? It's going to be overload on the pictures. It's going to be like when you visit your granddad's girlfriend's house and she wants to show you every picture of her grandchildren's piano recitals and studio portraits. Yet you have the option of getting away.

(but I know you won't... I know you're curious to see what I put on here. Will you be in a picture? Wait and see...)

Beautiful Zion!!! I'm told it is "like walking through a Georgia O'Keefe painting..." 

I have a future!

It's official. I can now say with much confidence that I do have a job after graduation. The problem is, this only covers my next four months... not sure what I'll do after that.

I graduate from IWU next saturday and leave the next morning for three weeks in California on the Pacific Crest Trail with one of my professors and three other students and then I come back home for a week and then head out to Utah... to stay till September! So many amazing opportunities ahead of me that I don't deserve!

I will be working at Zion National Park in Springdale, Utah, which is in the southwest corner of the state. I'm not sure yet where they're going to place me. I could be washing dishes. I could be making beds in the lodge. I could be a waitress or a front desk worker. Whatever it is, I get to live in this beautiful place, surrounded by red rock walls and deep red dirt. There are many canyons to explore and waterfalls and streams going through them. It sounds like the most amazing place on earth. While working for the park, I am also a part of a ministry team. There will be three of us. And we hold worship services outside in the park every Sunday for visitors. We'll just be providing a place of worship for all those people who have just returned from a hike around the rocks and can't help but think of God anyway. This will be a great chance to work on preaching and leading services and... maybe singing... The other two people on my team are guys, so if there is ever a need for a female voice as we lead worship, it just might be me. Hope people don't mind if it's not the most pleasant voice. God told me it's ok. He likes it.

I'm going to try to put a picture on here if I ever get it figured out. Someone teach me, please.

babysitter for hire

I was sitting in front of my computer today, reading the Monday Memo as all good religion students do, and I saw this wonderful ad: (names changed... I'm attacking the concept, not the church)

Blabla Friends Church, 15 minutes east of campus, is seeking a youth pastor to attend Sunday morning worship, lead both junior high and senior high school youth groups, attend extra curricular activities of the youth and spend free time with them. 10-12 hours weekly. $850 monthly salary. Contact Mr. Blabla at (765) 628-blaa or the church (765) 628-blaa or e-mail: blablabla@blablanet.

I know they meant no harm. I know they didn't want a babysitter because they would have just said "babysitter" and not "youth pastor." But might they as well have? I know this is nothing new. I know I'm not being profound. Who needs that when we're already ignoring the truth we know? This has been an irritation to me for some time, but I just sucked it up and dealt with it. That's what youth ministry has come down to, right? The parents drop the kids off and you have to find some good ways to entertain them (they can be a tough crowd...). And you figure you might as well throw in a bit of your spiritual beliefs since you have that captive audience and all. I know, I know. There are some pretty amazing youth ministries going on right inside the church and some pretty incredible youth pastors along with some extremely devoted parents. It does happen.

But I don't want to get sucked into a babysitting job after I graduate. I just won't. If I really wanted to attend extracurricular activities and hang out with young people, I'd just rather save myself the humiliation of being called something I'm not and just do it instead on my own time.

That's my irritation with youth ministry right now. I know it's probably caused by my fears of the coming doom of graduation and practicums that were done half-heartedly because I knew they were for a season and a grade and I know God could still be calling me to youth ministry someday. But I refuse to be a babysitter. Somehow, I'll draw that line. I want to be a dreamer and I want to cause the youth to dream. I want the Church to see young people as more than a possibility, but a promise, that they can and will make the difference in this world, now and in the years to come. I want to be inspirational and I want to be inspired. (this is all just a bunch of lovely, wishy-washy words. I really don't know how to write what I want to be or how I plan on "ministering" instead of "sitting")

Does anyone else have an idea how to draw this line?

bananas, the happy fruit!

Anyone who's known me for some time knows that I have somewhat of an obsession with the yellow fruit. My reasons? I'm not really sure, but these might be some of them...

-First of all, they are yellow. Who doesn't become instantly happy when they see things yellow?
-Second, they're just fun to eat. And when the dirty boys in 6th grade were going around asking people "which condiments do you enjoy on your weiner?" I was asking "How many times do you peel your banana?" I thought this was equally hilarious. But the person usually said "um... four?" and waited for the punch line as I walked away giggling to myself.
-Third, they are naturally shaped like a smile! (sadly, 6th grade health teachers have tainted our view of the banana shape with their instructional "demonstrations")
-And fourth: Everytime I eat a banana I get to wear that sticker for the rest of the day enjoying the respect others try to gain by wearing "I gave blood today" stickers... but the banana stickers are from such foreign places as Guatemala and Ecuador, so they're a bit cooler.

My friend Becky sent some of these facts to me and since I don't have any time to write lately, I thought I might as well share this instead... (these are just some of them)

Bananas. Containing three natural sugars - sucrose, fructose and glucose combined with fiber, a banana gives an instant, sustained and substantial boost of energy. Research has proven that just two bananas provide enough energy for a strenuous 90-minute workout. No wonder the banana is the number one fruit with the world's leading athletes.

But energy isn't the only way a banana can help us keep fit. It can also help overcome or prevent a substantial number of illnesses and conditions, making it a must to add to our daily diet. Depression: According to a recent survey undertaken by MIND amongst people suffering from depression, many felt much better after eating a banana. This is because bananas contain tryptophan, a type of protein that the body converts into serotonin, known to make you relax, improve your mood and generally make you feel happier.

Brain Power: 200 students at a Twickenham (Middlesex) school were helped through their exams this year by eating bananas at breakfast break, and lunch in a bid to boost their brainpower. Research has shown that the potassium-packed fruit can assist learning by making pupils more alert.

Constipation: High in fiber, including bananas in the diet can help restore normal bowel action, helping to overcome the problem without resorting to laxatives.

Mosquito bites: Before reaching for the insect bite cream, try rubbing the affected area with the inside of a banana skin. Many people find it amazingly successful at reducing swelling and irritation.

Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) (this is me): Bananas can help SAD sufferers because they contain the natural mood enhancer, tryptophan.

Warts: Those keen on natural alternatives swear that if you want to kill off a wart, take a piece of banana skin and place it on the wart, with the yellow side out. Carefully hold the skin in place with a plaster or surgical tape!

When you compare it to an apple, it has four times the protein, twice the carbohydrate, three times the phosphorus, five times the vitamin A and iron, and twice the other vitamins and minerals It is also rich in potassium and is one of the best value foods around. So maybe its time to change that well known phrase so that we say, "A banana a day keeps the doctor away!"

I want to breathe

I'm so tired of running around. I just want to relax and breathe.

Someday I'll get the chance to write again...

This is the rest of the story...

I've received a lot of nice comments since coming back to school about my last post. People tell me it was amusing. Well thankyou. Maybe someday when I'm dead and gone my great grand-neice will publish my diaries and make them into a book. But of course, you won't be able to read them then either because you'll hopefully be dead too. Sorry, I mean that in the nicest sense. I'm not wishing for your death. I mean that for your greatest good. Nobody wants to live forever right? I'll let you in on a little secret. On my last diary I wrote on the first page specifically how many generations must pass before anyone is allowed to read it. I think I'm very nervous about people reading that kind of stuff so this blog is pushing my limits in what I can and cannot bring myself to share. I don't live some secretive creepy life. I just experience the ups and downs of life and I write about them as they are. It's been so good to keep a journal throughout college. I think everyone really should and there aren't too many things I think are so universally important for everyone to do. So take that seriously ok?

Anyway, back to reality and this surfacy superficial post that will only go as deep as I allow because you have to wait for my book to come out in 2105...

I've been asked to share what else I did over break. I only shared one day, but that's probably because the best stories are from that day. I promise, no other day was as humbling and emberassing and full of story as that day, so the rest of this entry is just facts... nothing funny.

I arrived on Saturday and my brother picked me up at the Baltimore airport. I hung out with him and my cousins who live in Bethesda. That night we met up with a friend of his at a bar (no I don't drink, but I appreciated the smoke-free atmosphere!). His friend is from Peru so I got to talk to him about ceviche and IncaKola and stuff like that. The next morning I took my brother's car and drove down to Virginia to stay with my aunt and uncle. Wow, even though the signs may say 55, everyone does 80. So I got to drive like a maniac also.

My visit with my aunt and uncle was amazing. My uncle is sick with cancer, but they have such a faith and peace that they are in God's hands, come what may. When my aunt was not tending to my uncle she was out in the living room with me sitting on the couch talking about God. She taught me so much. I feel like I went through three full days of spiritual training. We talked about nothing else. I admit, it wore me out. But I'm glad it did. If it didn't, I'd begin to question if any change at all took place. My physical weariness was proof to me that there was change taking place in my spirit. I am so thankful. I want to talk more about the lessons I learned later so this is not too long.

I drove back to DC on Wednesday morning and this is the amusing day I described already. Thursday I decided I had had enough of the metro and downtown so I drove to a couple stores and a mall where everyone wore furry coats and pointed their noses toward the ceiling. Every store I went into, the workers would follow me around asking if I needed help. Did I look like that much of a hoodlum to them? At one point I was walking around the store with a shirt from a clearance rack in my hand and I was still looking around at the other clothes. The worker who had followed me the entire time came by my side and says "Don't you want to try that on before you buy it?" I looked at her with pure confusion... "I'm... not... in line to buy it right now. I'm still looking." Then when I finally go to the counter to buy it, she asks me "Did anyone help you today?" Once again, confusion and irritation in my voice... "Um, only you, a few times." She blushed and mumbled something. My advice: Don't go to the White Flint Mall unless you're dressed for the occasion.

We went to dinner that night at another bar with my cousins and their daughter where they were auctioning off dates with firemen. I hope I never have to auction myself off. I think I'd rather not.
On friday, Joe took me to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. Wow, that place is amazing... especially the dolphin show. I felt like a little kid. I'm so amazed by everything, especially fish lips. Fish lips are one of the funniest things on this planet. There's so much variety. Every breed of fish has different lips and all are equally amusing. Some are puckering up to kiss you, others are in the O-shape of constant surprise, and others just like to smile, a lot. My favorite tank had a really fat fish who swam like he was standing up on his hind fins and he hovered at the top of the tank looking like he was belting out opera songs. Another fish swam back and forth beneath him opening and closing his fish lips like he was laughing at him. Sorry, I know nobody cares this much about fish lips.

Saturday I flew back to Indianapolis. And that's my spring break. To everyone who knew about my dilemmas leading up to it, this was all meant to be. I know now. I truly believe God had a plan and major lessons he wanted me to learn, which I'll share later. When I see things come together like this, I have to admit, even though it's hard to believe, God must love me a lot and my life is truly in his hands.

a foreigner

I am writing this mostly for myself. I am too lazy to write everything by hand in my journal, so I'm keeping my spring break memories on this. So sorry if you were looking for a nice fun entry. Consider this a look into my diary...

I am a foreigner in these strange lands and the people are on to me. The girl on the metro on my way to downtown DC yesterday knew it. I could tell. She sat in her pretty little seat and glared at me, maybe because I was the only person standing and I was clinging to that pole with all my strength so the train wouldn't hurl me into the lap of that angry looking woman in a furry coat doing a crossword in the seat in front of me. I guess you have to be pushy on these trains to get a seat? But that guy in his 20s should have politely taken his leg down from the seat next to him and offered it to me, like the gentlemenly guys at IWU would have... but I stood over him, clinging to the pole, legs spread to keep my balance, looking like a total mid-western fool... and he didn't notice. As the trains (cars? what do you call these things?) rolled on and we picked up more people on their way to work, I watched to see how others managed to keep their balance. One girl just leaned against a wall and talked on a cell phone. I don't know how she did it. Others look just as natural as they hold on to the pole with one hand, briefcase in the other, and they can even keep their feet close together in a normal standing position. I looked down at me feet. They just looked ridiculous. I moved my feet together and shoved my right hand in my pocket. The train lurched forward and so did I. So I decided to wrap my left arm around the pole, which works very well. But soon my legs got tired and I realized other people were finding seats, and that girl who knew I was from the midwest was still staring and glaring at me. So I waited til the next stop and walked cautiously forward (even when the metro is resting, I can't seem to walk straight) and found a thin woman with an empty seat next to her. You see, I think they built these metros in days when Americans were a lot less plump. The reason I was too afraid to sit in the empty seats was because most people had extra chub hanging over into the other seat space and I was too ashamed to try to squeeze in next to them and fail, reminding them of their extra chub. I promise, it was for their own good. They didn't need the reminder. So I found the thin woman and I asked, or kind of mumbled, "I think I should sit down now, can I sit here? I should sit down now." She looked up from her paper, with a look of surprise and irritation, and mumbled something back and looked back at her paper. Later, I told my brother Joe, who I am visiting here, about this and he laughed at me. "You're not supposed to ask permission! You're just supposed to sit!" I hate how people look either angry, gloomy, or tired on those trains. The only happy people I saw were foreigners.

At Metro Station where it was time to switch trains, I was focused on myself and getting to the right train. I was totally oblivious to the outside world until this little old lady who looked more lost than myself came up to me. "Oh Lord," I thought. "Why me of all people. Don't ask me anything, please..."
"Veinti.... veinti... veinti-uno?"
"What?"
"Veinti? Veinti-uno?"
"21?" (I was proud that I could figure this one out, atleast I thought)
She looked beyond me and the space between her eyes wrinkled and I could tell she was very very lost. I watched her face as she searched for the right words, but she soon gave up and walked on. I thought, hmm, maybe she thought I spoke spanish or something? How exciting! Maybe I looked hispanic to her... maybe I didn't look boring old American to her! (I love the thought of being anything but the part-german, part-irish or scottish that it seems everyone I know is) Yes it was selfish. I didn't seem to care about helping her. I was too busy glorying myself in the thought that she thought I wasn't American! Now, this is the kind of foreigner I wouldn't mind being, I thought. I turned and watched her walk on... and walk right up to a blond girl who was clearly American... and I laughed. I don't mind laughing in public sometimes. I wish I could just tape-record the thoughts in my head because they'd make you laugh too.

I got off the train at the Smithsonian stop. I rode up the escalator into the glorious sunshine above. I walked out onto the Mall and looked out at the shiny capital building ahead of me. I was headed in the right direction. I was planning on visiting the Smithsonian American Indian museum and then meet Joe in the lobby to get some lunch. But my journey had taken much longer than expected, so I planned on just seeing the exhibits after I met Joe for lunch. The museum definitely stood out in it's odd architecture and all, so I quickly found it and walked into the lobby and plopped down on a bench to bask in a ray of sunlight that was coming in the window. I closed my eyes and smiled... I had made it. And I had found warm sunshine to sit in as I waited. I called Joe up, "I have arrived. I found my way! And I didn't get lost!" I opened my eyes to see a big security guard standing over me. "Excuse me, ma'am, but that isn't a bench that you're sitting on."
I jumped up and and followed him to a table where he needed to search my bag. He found my Bible in one of the pockets and a big smile spread across his face and I noticed he was missing an awful lot of teeth. He said, "You believe this?" I said, "Yes I do, all of it." Then he went on to tell me about Jesus and why we need him and he looked so proud as he explained it to me. I just stood there and smiled. I wish I were the type of person that spouts out "Amen!" every once in awhile cause I think he would have appreciated it.
I left my new security guard friend and went down the escalator to look around a bit. So far, I was very unimpressed by the museum. Nothing reminded me of Native Americans yet. And downstairs it was a bunch of "art" that even I don't appreciate. Young guys my age were walking around rubbing their chins and saying "hmm" and I quickly did a lap... where are the Indians? This is a crappy museum, I thought. I went up to the third floor and found the same old crap. I went to the gift shop and it was full of books about artists, and I knew for a fact some of them were not Native Americans. I still cannot believe it took me that long to realize what you probably realized from the beginning. This was not the American Indian Museum. And I don't know why I thought there was even a chance. This was a modern art museum. And I had sat on a piece of that "art" in the lobby thinking it was a bench... and I am slightly proud of that.
I slipped out the same door I came in, hoping my Jesus-loving friend would not notice me and ask why I left his museum so quickly. I love Jesus, I hate your art.

As I made my way to the real American Indian museum, I got mixed into a group of school kids on a field trip. I was herded like cattle with them across the roads and along the sidewalk. There was no way out. They were headed to the same place. What joy. When they stopped at intersections to wait for the little crosswalk thing to light up, I stopped with them and waited. I stood above them and I guess I could have pretended to be a chaperone since I felt so silly. As we walked into the museum, there were ducks swimming in the little ponds around it. Two nerdy looking boys from the group smiled and looked at each other and the one with the dark bowl cut pushed his glasses up between his eyes and said in a nasal voice "I think it's mating season..." and the two of them giggled. Something about that made me laugh out loud and I just stood there looking at them laughing.

I ate a buffalo taco salad at the museum. It was amazingly delicious. It was also a $15 meal.

I looked around the museum after lunch. It was much better than the modern art museum. But I appreciated the building itself better than the exhibits. I felt like the exhibits were really random and hard to follow. I wished there were signs that said "begin here" and "end here" but judging by the architecture I guess that's just not their style. I found the Tohono O'odham (however you spell it) Indian tribe that lives in southern Arizona and I stood in the middle of their circular exhibit and smiled. Overhead they had a panoramic circle of the Sonoran desert to "set the mood." I loved it. For some reason, I feel like I'm really from Arizona and someone tricked me into thinking I'm from Ohio. And when I get a glimpse or a scent of something that reminds me of Arizona, everything around me fades away and it's just me and my memories. And when I open my eyes, I get so homesick.

After that museum, I had enough time to go see the museum of Natural History. As I walked across the mall lawn, I watched a young father and his son standing in the center taking pictures of the captital building. Then I noticed the father looking at me smiling. Now that is wierd, I thought, since I get the feeling people don't smile so much here. He held out his camara and asked if I'd take a picture. Before he got all his words out, I was quickly saying, "Yes, yes" as I took his camara. I clicked the picture and showed it to him. He said it was good and thanked me. I thanked him and walked away. I realized that this experience made me so glad because I was so happy to be noticed. It's an odd thought, but after a day of being alone, but being completely surrounded by people, you start to wonder if maybe you're invisible. I mean, no one smiled at me and nobody said hi. People brushed past me as I walked along the sidewalk as if they didn't notice they hit me. Cars barely stopped when I'd try to cross at crosswalks. And they only would slow down when other people would come up behind me and rush across the street with me. You know how that guy in The Sixth Sense didn't realize he was dead? I kind of felt like that. Other than the jagged toothed Jesus-loving security guard, the veinti-uno lady, and my brother, no one had talked to me all day. I was so happy the father and son asked me to take a picture.

I found my way to Joe's work building at five to ride the metro home with him. I was glad I didn't have to do it again alone. I had felt like the little lost veinti-uno lady alittle too much that day.

i ate beef, er, my words

There was a beef burrito in a bean burrito disguise tonight at baldwin and I ate him. I hope you don't read all that I said yesterday and think I don't really mean what I say when I say I love animals and that I haven't eaten meat since the 11th. Those are both true. But Katrina gave me permission to be carnivorous again. She said she'd rather see me enjoy what I am eating than gag over wierd things like that flatbread, humus dripping, tofu packed something or other that I ate for lunch. So I ate the beef and bean burrito tonight because I didn't feel bad at all doing it. I honestly wanted the beans (which is one advancement in my vegetarian pursuits). The beef was just an extra; an unwanted extra really. Baldwin just doesn't always cater to the non-meat eating people. I regreted it immediately. It was disgusting. But I didn't want to wait in the quesadilla line after that, so I ate it.

To those who are wondering about the whole lent thing (Jason?), I feel guilty even mentioning it. I am not doing this for God. I am not even sure I am doing this for myself. Sometimes I think I am only doing this so I'll have the ability to eat salad at formal occasions and not be the little kid who sheepishly pushes it aside, or tugs on my mom's sleeve and whispers "mom, can you eat this for me?" So that's another reason why I think I should eat meat again, in small amounts. I'll only eat it if it is an "extra" alongside the vegetable. It's the vegetable I want to get myself to eat.

For anyone reading this who has no clue what I am talking about and wonders if I have gone insane, well, I have.
For the past few nights, I have had dreams about eating meat. The first night, it was pizza with sausage and pepperoni on it. I didn't want to pick them off, so I ate them.
The second night, it was much more disturbing... I was a cow. I walked on my hind legs like a human. I was with some tourist group (of humans, and a few of us cows) and we were touring the factory that kills the cows. I had no problem with it. It was just a reality of life. I walked along rubbing my cow chin and going "hmm" as they showed us the conveyer belts and the death devices (I'm glad I don't really remember that part of the dream). We were all very intrigued. I looked over at my friend cow. We all had "My name is" name tags and his said "certified organic." For some reason this meant that he would not get killed. He gave me a nod and I looked away, jealous that I wasn't organic too... whatever that meant.
The whole time, there is a narrator in the dream, telling about how wonderful this factory was. I found out that we were taping for a commercial and I was in it! Then the commercial switched to a hospital scene. There lay on a hospital bed, complete with the hospital gown, a fellow cow with his head taped on with a bunch of tape wrapped around his neck. (This is where you may begin to worry about me and my sanity) I heard the narrator say, "And it's ok if our cows' heads fall off because all of them are 'saved.'" There were some more disturbing events after that that I am not comfortable sharing. But, what the heck was that all about?!?! Saved cows? Heads falling off? And that's just ok?
The third night of the meat-eating dreams, I think I ate a beef stick or something.

I love it. I amuse myself.

I am a carnivore

I know I know. That's the wrong word for us... Nice people get a nervous smile on their face when I say that and quietly whisper, "now Juli, you are an omnivore. That's what you are." or something like that. But I just like saying that. It's fun to say. And I also like the expressions on the faces of two of my housemates who are vegetarian. They like it too.

I haven't eaten meat since February 11th when I accidently ate beef inside of my chimichanga on culture night at Baldwin. That next Sunday I had a scare. I got real dizzy in the shower so I got out and threw on some clothes quick and crawled to Jamie's room to pass out. Luckily I never did, but it was close enough to get me thinking about what I'm doing to my body. I am a carnivore. My body likes meat. My stomach asks for it by name. I've been feeding that stuff down my throat for 22 years and my body is begging for an explaination for all the torture.

It started when Katrina, my roomate, sent me a valentine's greeting from PETA. What a lovely greeting. Roses are red, Violets are blue, you have a heart and chickens do too (ok that wasn't really it. I don't remember it). It could have been something as creative as "Roses are red, violets are blue. KFC saws the beaks off their chickens, and feeds them to YOU!" How clever. I should work for PETA. But then I'd have to become some crazy extremist. I get really mad at them. They'd have a half decent following if they went about it the right way. I agree that animals should be treated more decently. I agree chickens' living conditions should not be so bad that they try to peck themselves to death and KFC and Taco Bell would stop sawing their beaks off. I agree cows shouldn't be so sickly in their living conditions that cow killing companies have to force steroids into them just to keep them alive. I agree. It's all sick. I especially get angry when I realize all the rainforests that are supposedly getting cut down to house all these cows. And these don't become pretty little cow pastures, but giant cow industrial killing factories that only pollute the air and water sources even more and shove the native people out of their lands.

BUT... I don't appreciate PETA telling me it is impossible to say you care about the environment if you still eat meat. THAT especially ticked me off. I believe we are carnivores (fine, omnivores, whatever) and I believe we are allowed to eat meat and still not be considered barbarians. I don't agree with the way it's done, but I am willing to fight to make things right... so I can go ahead and eat meat again.

So why am I not eating meat? At first it was cause I watched some disgusting animal killing videos that were attached to my happy valentine's greeting. Then I realized it was time for lent. So I gave up meat and french fries and other fried foods (wow this has been difficult). And then I felt guilty cause I never even let God in on the plan and if I understand lent right, I think you're supposed to let God know. So I realized my main reason was because I hate vegetables. And the only way to get myself to eat vegetables is to deny myself the foods I usually eat to avoid them... cheeseburgers, french fries, chicken nuggets...

I don't know when this will be over, but I'm planning on eating meat again when I like vegetables and salad and stuff like that. I think this will be good also to prepare me for hiking during May because I'm told we won't eat much more than little snacky foods along the way. Sorry for talking about this for way too long. It's really not worth all the words I just spent.

I'm going to go eat a bean burrito.

the Me show

I'm not going to write in this everyday. Someone asked the question the other day, "What did you spend the majority of your time today doing?" You know how those questions usually go... you look at yourself, reflect, realize you did nothing of value and that your piles of homework are stilll waiting for you, untouched, and then ashamedly admit that you failed, yet again. But I was so glad to realize, though I never crossed a single thing off my post-it lists, I spend most of the day in relationships. And I don't mean just hanging out with friends. I mean I got to sit and listen and give advice and encourage and smile and laugh and love and watch the people around me grow. I love it! Those are the times I have to remember to remind myself I am called to some type of ministry. There is a joy I get from people that I get from nothing else. The joy I get from nature is so strong, but in a different way. I'd say a day spent with either of these joys, whether inside with a few people I value or outside all alone in nature, is a day very well spent.

So I won't write in this everyday because I hope most of my words fall off my tongue to another person and not my fingertips onto a keyboard. And I also hope I get outside soon... if this Indiana weather will make up its mind... And though I understand some people can do this every day, I am not that good at managing my time. And well, the only reason I've been writing this week is really because it has been a horribly busy week and I usually do senseless, worthless things when I know there are projects and book reports looming overhead.

I don't want to make this too long, but I realized another thing. Since I am really good at wasting time I don't have, today I was filling in the rest of that profile info that Jared and Pete made me rush through so fast. And I started to feel kind of funny... like, what is the purpose of all this? Why do we do this? Who needs to know my favorite books and movies and music and stuff but the creepy stalker guy that finds out that lo and behold both of you love the movie Monsoon Wedding and then you wonder why you ever shared that information to begin with. And yes, I want to use this to keep my thoughts organized and to keep in touch with people, but the thought struck me... this is a website all about me! Is that why we do it? Come on bloggy people. Let me know the purpose of this. Was selfishness the reality of the whole blog concept? If so, I feel kind of stupid for doing it now.

scrapbook memories

As God's child, I have the freedom to confess things aren't all perfect and pretty all the time. In the past year or so, I have struggled no longer with doubts of His existence. My struggle is whether He cares about me or not. For sure I see God at work in the lives around me and on this campus and all over the world, but it's amazing how easy it is to doubt He works in me. My mind's got a grip on it. My knowledge says an extremely assured YES! But my heart, always doubting, has had a hard time accepting this fact... probably because it's not just a "fact." It's a reality, it's a feeling, it's a soul-surrender to a Greater Being that desires to know ME. And love ME. And would die for ME. My head knows it. My heart just won't accept it.

I wrote this a few nights ago...

Tonight you are a distant memory
I long for you to be by my side.
I sit here and ask to feel your touch,
hear your voice,
see your face.
But I am accompanied only by silence,
and the faint memory of when you were here.
Or was all that just a dream?
I've got this book here
and it begs me flip through its pages.
Says I'll find you there if I do.
Well, I just might give it a try.
I open the scrapbook and my heart smiles.
Though I could never feel more distant from You,
I will remember when I knew You were here.
Psalm 77.

(Even if Your footsteps are unseen)

I won't be all serious all the time with this blog thingy (I can't bring myself to just call it a blog for some silly reason), but this is what's on my mind today. Do you know the feeling? It's frustrating, but intriguing at the same time. You want to give up sometimes but you have an even stronger desire than ever to place your faith in God and see what He does with it.

my voice

I like music. Right now, the guys would be happy to hear that I am listening to Derek Webb because Jared was singing "I Repent" as he came out of the student center and drove off on his little bike. April 10th, Derek Webb and Steven Delopoulos are playing in Kentucky... that's worth the drive. If I could ever see a band back together again, of all the band breakups in history, (and this is a pretty bold statement I think), it would be Burlap to Cashmere. Delopoulos and his cousin came to IWU last semester and it was incredible. Incredibly short, yet still incredible. When it comes to music, I do appreciate lyrics, but lyrics usually just speak to my mind. The sound and feel of the music does something more. I don't know what, but it's that certain gritty sound of the guitar in the middle of U2's "Love and Peace" or the percussion solos in the middle of Gypsy Kings (I get made fun of for that, but I still like the little spurts of joy that Gypsy Kings gives me).

So on this little blog thingy, I will probably talk about music, and I'll probably put lyrics to songs that are meaningful to me. But I don't want to mislead you into thinking all my favorite words are spoken by somebody else... if that makes sense. It's a great thing that music speaks to people in all sorts of ways. That's nothing short of miraculous. Music is miraculous. But it's disappointing when you realize music also has the power to cut off our own words, making us mute. We don't know how to explain our feelings but this song does so we share that song with somebody. We are craving to know God more, yet we forget how to speak to him so we let this worship song be our words. Sometimes that's right and beautiful. But sometimes I catch myself shrinking and quieting and (muting?) and using other peoples' words so much that I haven't used my own voice and opinions for a long while. And I think, wow, this is kind of tragic. And I pull out my journal and I write. And sometimes it takes a week or so to get back into it because I haven't practiced my own voice for awhile. But it comes.

So I'm going to put lyrics on here, yes. But I'm going to put my own stuff on too if you don't mind. It's not that good because some of it was written when I was just remembering how to talk again. So give me some grace here and there, ok?

Use your voice today.
juli

I missed the Eagles

I grew up on wizard 100... I don't remember what it's name is now, but that's what it was back in the day. My whole family listened to that radio station. And anytime I hear oldies it sends me into this glorious daydream where it's summertime and all my brothers live at home again and we're all out in the garage "cleaning" cause Dad is on another one of his kicks and mom is vacuuming the living room and we can hear it through the screen door, and 50s and 60s and 70s music is playing on our dusty stereo on dad's tool bench... And though dad's being totally irrational and chaotic as he throws shoes and other "garage junk" around, I am in a blissful state. It's one of my favorite memories.

And one of the things I missed the most is the Eagles. I don't even know if wizard100 played them, but it still reminds me of the days before all my brothers moved away and all my memories are of summertime and cleaning the garage.

So I bought the cd for my drive back to school on Saturday... and listened to it the whole time... the most wonderful drive ever...
Except this song, it is my favorite song on this cd because it speaks to my love for the west, but it's about a lot of their anger toward religion. Totally understandable, just hard to take.
Just reading the lyrics doesn't give it justice though. You got to hear his voice and the piano. If you get the chance, look up "The Last Resort."

She came from Providence,
the one in Rhode Island
Where the old world shadows hang
heavy in the air
She packed her hopes and dreams
like a refugee
Just as her father came
across the sea
She heard about a place
people were smilin'
They spoke about the red man's way,
and how they loved the land
And they came from everywhere
to the Great Divide
Seeking a place to stand
or a place to hide
Down in the crowded bars,
out for a good time,
Can't wait to tell you all,
what it's like up there
And they called it paradise
I don't know why
Somebody laid the mountains low
while the town got high
Then the chilly winds blew down
Across the desert
through the canyons of the coast,
to the Malibu
Where the pretty people play,
hungry for power
to light their neon way
and give them things to do
Some rich men came and raped the land,
Nobody caught 'em
Put up a bunch of ugly boxes, and Jesus,
people bought 'em
And they called it paradise
The place to be
They watched the hazy sun,
sinking in the sea
You can leave it all behind
and sail to Lahaina
just like the missionaries did,
so many years ago
They even brought a neon sign:
"Jesus is coming"
Brought the white man's burden down
Brought the white man's reign
Who will provide the grand design?
What is yours and what is mine?
'Cause there is no more new frontier
We have got to make it here
We satisfy our endless needs
and justify our bloody deeds,
in the name of destiny
and the name of God
And you can see them there,
On Sunday morning
They stand up and sing
about what it's like up there
They call it paradise
I don't know why
You call someplace paradise,
kiss it goodbye

I'm edumacated

Jared taught me how to blog. I think it's a good idea to keep in touch with everyone after college... Or do we just tell ourselves that to make graduation not look so sad? We'll see how well I do this...

I'm off to go eat cookies.

juli