Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Doing business without advertising is like winking at a girl in the dark.

You know what you're doing, but nobody else does!

- S. H. Britt

(I'm working in a sales office...)

The New Job

Okay, here's the deal. My lunch break is over. I returned promptly (or almost- I was only five minutes late) and now I am sitting all by myself in this office. Everyone else has disappeared to some meeting that I've been hearing about vaguely since I walked in the door at eight. Am I supposed to be there? I don't know. Is it important? I don't know. Will they wonder where I am? I doubt it.

You see, I'm an intern. Intern is synonymous with the following words: dunce, idiot, imbecile, klutz, juvenile, etc. You get the idea. In reality it is defined as "A doddering idiot who tries to appear that they know what they're doing and, when finally given a task spend five times the needed amount of time on it."

I have been asking for some opportunities to work on my poise and people skills- both of which are almost non-existant. This is it. I'm in an office with four ladies I've never seen before in my life, in a radio station filled with about twenty more people- all of which have been seeing pictures of me since I was 2 and hearing of my accomplishments told in Grandma/Grandpa language (which makes me look eligible for Ms. America and Harvard Medical School.)

This morning I arrived at eight o'clock. Yes, I, Courtney E. Blake rolled out of bed in time to look poised and business-like by 7:45 so I could arrive by eight o'clock. I have this little sailor room in my grandparents' house with a cute little lantern light and a couch, bed, sea chest, and dressers. I suppose it's not so little- just seems that way compared to the rest of their upstairs bedrooms. I got all set up last night and situated. It's almost like a studio apartment, and I have my own bathroom. I've NEVER had my own bathroom. I'm in heaven.

So after a brief run last night, a shower in my personal shower :) and reading during commercial breaks in "Braveheart," I went to bed. It was approximately 9:30 p.m. I haven't gone to bed that early in almost a year. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep. I suppose I put on this adventurous front- and I really DO like new things. But I had no clue what I was going to be doing. None whatsoever. That's a little intimidating.

So, as I mentioned before, I got up at 6:30, breakfasted with the grandparents, got up some appearance of beauty and ventured off to work.

Now, let me make you salivate with one of the perks of this job. Not only am I living with my grandparents (where I'm just assumed to be wonderful until I shatter that image, and I'm also very well fed) but I am also driving my grandfather's sports car. It's a little white, Mazda Miata convertible. It's a stick shift. I don't drive a stick. I never have. I learned yesterday. Today, pulling out of my grandparents' neighborhood I killed it three times before I finally got the knack.

Here, in the office I have my own desk and computer. I feel very official- when I actually have something to do. See, here's the problem- my grandparents hire very good, hard working people. That doesn't leave much for a puny intern to do. So, today I did perhaps an hour to two hours worth of work in what (so far) has been almost 5 hours actually at work. And that work I did do could probably have been completed in half the time- except for the fact that it wasn't urgent and I was so thrilled to have something to do that I wanted to make it last as long as possible- it's rather like a lollipop you really like- you savor it as long as you possibly can- making it last lick by lick.

I drove home for lunch at 11:20 and figured out (before going in for lunch) how to put the top down on this little car. That is fun. Everyone can call me vain- but it's not vanity to know your good points and emphasize them, and my red hair looks stunning against the black interior of this little car, what's more- I know I can wear my big movie star sunglasses with great aplomb. That, and the knowledge that my outfit originally cost a hefty fortune (I bought it on sale...) gave me the courage to tackle whatever was thrown at me (or perhaps the lack of anything ever being thrown at me...) :)

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I'm back. I found the meeting. Or rather, my grandfather found me and I found the meeting. I don't like the thought of him stopping whatever it was he was doing and looking for me. I think I'll be more assertive. I want these people to know and like me, so that when my husband runs for president, they will vote for him because of me. :)

Now I'm back, sitting at my little desk. I like it here. Though, if things continue this way it could get a little boring...

Well, nothing to do.

I think I will beguin my first blockbuster novel. If the whole summer continues this way- I should be able to finish and revise it before my twentieth birthday.

There may be quite a few more blog entries...

Sunday, May 29, 2005

So Much Living

I've been given the opportunity to make some big changes to my life. Especially a change that could affect next school year, and how I spend my time- who I spend it with, etc. A change that I thought I should make- a change I've been dreaming about since I was five. But as I reached that point of change I realized something:

I've got too much living to do.

To restrict myself, to narrow my world, would, at this point be sheer torture to me. I would always be wondering what else I could be doing- even though the change itself would be wonderful fun, I recognized something about myself:

I want to do so much.

I want to go on a missions trip to every continent.

I want to back pack across Europe with Amanda.

I want to visit Lavinia in Australia and acquire an Australian accent.

I want to be an R.A.

I want to have "chic parties" which tons of younger girls can come to and eat chocolate cheese cake, and tell me all their problems, their jokes, and their crushes.

I want to teach little children how to talk. I want to open their ears to the wonder of laughter and music. I want let them hear the love that fills their parents voices, and the lullabies that their mothers sing.

I want to spend a summer in D.C.

I want to spend $400 dollars on a pair of shoes and not have to explain to anyone why I did such a ridiculous thing- because it is a ridiculous, but wonderfully fun extravagance.

I want to photograph Indiana in black and white film- the parts of Indiana that no one sees- the parts that make people love and live in the Midwest.

I want to get to know EVERYONE! Their quirks, their secrets, their hobbies, and what makes them laugh. I want to have friends of each gender and every nationality.

I want to learn about each field of study- every interesting detail, each unique fact.

I want to study in Oxford, England.

I want to go to an inaugural ball, and I want to meet the royal family of England- any and all of them.

I want to go hanggliding.

I want to write, and write, and write, until I crank out a book worthy of publication.

I want to earn enough money to buy my parents that cottage they've been wanting (for as long as I can remember) on the shores of Lake Michigan. The same cottage they gave up when they decided to adopt my two unnamed little sisters from China.

The list goes on, and I know that to accomplish what I want it would take about one hundred lives. But I've decided that before I limit and constrict my life to one specific sphere, I would like to reach out and see all the other spheres.

I want to live vicariously.

I want to live with enthusiasm and zest.

I want to live surrounded by a broad group of people and their ideas and personalities.

I just want to LIVE!!!!

Monday, May 23, 2005

Today's Epiphanies

I'M GOING TO BE SINGLE.

I'M GOING TO GO TO AFRICA.

I'M GOING TO BECOME A KEY POLITICAL LEADER.

AND I AM GOING TO BE A DOCTOR AND WRITE A NEW YORK TIMES' BESTSELLER.



Life looks good...

Saturday, May 21, 2005

Others' Words

The kind of car a guy buys is indicative of the type of girl he'll choose. - Alex Blake (My brother drives a 1980 red Porsche sports car... )

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Someone's boring me. I think it's me. - Dylan Thomas

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Like anyone else, there are days I feel beautiful and days I don't, and when I don't, I do something about it. - Cheryl Tiegs

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This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted. - C. S. Lewis

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You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body. - C. S. Lewis

My Heart

It's me.

Inside.

Where no one can see.

Everyone speaks so casually about the heart. "I'm in love." "He broke my heart." "I love you with all my heart!" It's something trivial to which we assign a shape and cut out of red construction paper every February 14th. But it's something more!

It's deep inside.

It holds all your hopes, dreams, aspirations, and convictions.

It is what makes you!

But today I'm asked to throw it around. I'm expected to lay is bare before boy after boy, man after man. No relationship? What's wrong with me? Am I insane? Aren't there any interests? Why haven't you kissed anyone, Courtney? Isn't that weird? Isn't that..... different?

Yes.

It is weird, different.

My heart is locked away. My dream is to hand it over to my knight in shining armor, on that day when I become a beautiful princess. Call me a fool. Sneer at my fairy tale ideal. I don't care. I just want to make that gift whole, complete, and beautiful on that day.

But there's a problem. My heart wants to be given. It wants to be cherished and loved. It tugs impatiently at the boundaries I've set. Every day I have to fight down the thoughts, "Just once? Can't I share just a little? He's a good guy. It couldn't hurt. Just a little part. You don't have to share the whole of it. Just give him a piece of you heart. It'll be fine."

I sit here all alone. Perhaps one day I will have company. Perhaps not. But I would rather sit here, knowing that I had carefully guarded, rather than knowing I had played with perhaps the most precious thing I own.

I don't want it to be beaten and battered.

I don't want it to be ignored.

And while I desire romance, I don't desire a torn and broken heart.

I had this "dream."

I was surrounded. Countless boys and men. I smiled- flippantly, happy. I was radiant. But it was shallow- obviously assumed. Everyone's eyes were focused on something. They seemed to be playing a game. I watched with a smile as they all fought and tore at an object. I would frequently reach in and hand it to another player- smiling at him. For a time all my attention would be focused on him. Then with a sigh, rather like disappointment I would reach into his hands and take it- turning to another man- handing it to him. This continued. Over and over again. One by one they began drifting away. Soon I was standing all by myself. Someone drew near. He hadn't been close to me. Unable to come into my view when I was surrounded. I knew who He was, and I turned rather timidly. I felt quiver in my stomach. My knees slowly gave way from under me and I sunk to the ground. A great sob caught in my throat.

"Where is it?" The voice was low, soft. It was a rhetorical question. He knew.

"Here." I held out my hand- fingers folded over my palm. Slowly He pulled them back.

There, in the palm of my hand lay a dirty, torn heart. It was bleeding- and tiny. Pieces were missing. Under His gaze it's shabbiness, it's smallness became greater. The tears which ached behind my eyes began to run down my face.

"Daughter. Where is your heart? You promised it to me." His eyes were more sad than mine. I couldn't look in his face.

"This is it... This is it..." Choking voice. "This is.... All."

He looked at me. Quietly. In His eyes was a sorrow that was deeper than I could fathom. He repeated,

"But you promised it to me..."

It haunts me. Scares me.

My heart is one Person's. I promised it to Him when I was four. It's a shabby thing, dirty and unclean. He knows. He doesn't expect it to be perfect. He just wants it to be whole. All His. He'll hold it gently. Slowly, with great patience and care He'll clean it- removing dirt and stains to make it pure.

It's me.

Inside.

It's what makes me.

Is it His?

Teach me your way, O LORD, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. (Psalm 86:11)

Friday, May 20, 2005

The Immutability of God

"In this world where men forget us, change their attitude toward us as their private interests dictate, and revise their opinions of us for the slighest cause, is it not a source of wondrous strength to know that the God with whom we have to do changes not? That His attitude toward us now is the same as it was in eternity past and will be in eternity to come?

God never changes moods or cools off in His affections or loses enthusiasm.

God will not compromise and He need not be coaxed. He cannot be persuaded to alter His Word nor talked into answering selfish prayer. In all our efforts to find God, to please Him, to commune with Him, we should remember that all change must be on our part."

(The Knowledge of the Holy, A. W. Tozer)

Thursday, May 19, 2005

If you are saved- this earth is the closest you'll ever get to hell.

If you're not- this is the closest you'll ever get to heaven.

(Heaven)

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

I ALWAYS Knew It!!!! I'm Chocolate!!!

Today

Well, the audience has probably drifted away to their seperate homes. I have to mine. My reading audience (which probably consisted of two people and occasionally my father) has dwindled to just me. Which is just fine. Then I can let it all gush out and not worry about whether or not my topic is conventional and my arguments logical.

I'm sitting on my bed now. I've just finished a ginormous glass of iced tea, and I am wearing capris, which makes me think of summer. The sun is almost gone. The only trace of it left is a greyish smoky tinge to the sky with a trail of red above the trees. I love my room. It's all golden in the lamp light. The walls are a yellow-white cream with little flowers running in vines all over them. It's very dated- about 25 years old. Just old enough to look rather dated, but not old enough to be an heirloom. When I first walked into this room about ten years ago I fell in love with it. Not because of it's size, for it's the puniest room in the house- but for its windows. Their long fall almost all the way to the floor. I love windows. I will live in a hut in Africa, so long as it has wonderful windows. My theory is that yes, houses are nice, but nothing that man creates, builds, or designs could possible compete with the world that God created, built, and designed. In the morning the sun comes in a makes the room shimmer with golden sunbeams, and at night it's cozy with lamp light.

I don't know what made me go off on that poetic ramble.

My apologies.

My dream, at the end of the semester, was to compile an enormous blog that thoroughly listed and enumerated the things I had learned this past year. Whether it's good or bad I have determined that my list of lessons is not very long (at least to me...). I will attempt to sumarize them for you.

1. Don't tell everyone everything. Keep some things inside- it's what you carry in your thoughts that makes you you.

2. Sometimes you have to be disappointed to realize that you're human.

3. Friends are some of the greatest things you can possess. (Sounds trite...) I don't regret a single instance I spent building a relationship with my new crowd of girlfriends.

4. Guys are difficult.

5. Responsibility stinks. Privilege rocks!!!! :)

6. Grab every opportunity as though it was your last. In all reality, how well you do in life depends on how hard you try.

7. When you move back home things are very, very different.

This last one has been my lesson over the past few weeks. It's been grilled in more than any of the others were. Upon discussing it with one of my friends she voiced a very pertinent question: "I don't know if my mom's changed at all, but she seems more mothering." This is true. And this is hard to adjust to. Having to confine my social life to a curfew, clean my room before breakfast, and being restricted to a schedule that must fit my siblings is a life that I'd forgotten about. It's hard to squeeze back in the family mold.

But there are a lot of benefits too... Cooking baked beans again, using an entire economy sized box of generic rice puffs and three bags of marshmallows to make over one hundred rice crispies (which were gone in three days). Reading the Chronicles of Narnia every lunch and dinner time to the whole family and doing all the voices just as I imagine them. Correcting school work, grading English exams, reading Doctor Doolittle to the little sis right before bed, talking with the mom, and discovering my old baby pictures. (I was soooooo cute. What happened? However you could see my fat cheeks, even when I was only six months old. It was cute as a baby...)

I don't think I've accomplished anything in this blog.

It's nice to not feel like I have to.

Good-bye no one. :)