So in the past two weeks I’ve had one of the biggest challenges of my working life:  I’m an opener!  Coupled with the added challenge of being a commuter, my new wake-up time is 3:45am, about 5 hours eariler than I have been used to.  Routine has come to my rescue yet again though, and I’m happy to say I’m still alive and functioning well.  Here’s how it usually goes down:

3:45am:  I am pulled mercilessly into harsh reality by four screeching alarms

4:15am:  Get in the car and remind myself that it’s much safer to drive awake

5:00am: Arrive at work…wait for things to come into focus around the second cup of coffee

9:30am: Lunchtime!  Yogurt in the breakroom with Regis and Kelly

1:30pm: Off!!!!  The best feeling in the world as I saunter out of work while everyone else is just getting back from a late lunch.

2:30pm:  Pass out

4:30pm:  Wake up completely confused

9-10pm:  In bed, miraculously tired at such an early hour, and ready to do it all again.

One of my dad’s favorite sayings is, In order to get something you’ve got to give something up.  I’ve been thinking about this and also the nature and benefits of discipline.  For example, because of my new hours I’ve had to tragically give up Conan.  But I’ve gained over an hour of time I would normally spend sitting in traffic.  I’m so tired at work, and my eyes are always red, but the day flies by since I’m only partly conscious for the first half of it.  Etc. 

I just saw American Gangster last night.  It was an interesting character study…while Denzel Washington’s character was the “villain”, he was also more charismatic and easy to admire, because of the disciplined way he lived his life.  That’s definitely all I’d want to emulate from his life, but there’s something to be said for self-denial.

Well I have been bad at posting lately!  And I’m just posting two videos…but they’re hilarious, particularly Conan…

On Wednesday I picked up a friend from SeaTac airport.  There were some delays, and I waited about three hours in the international baggage claim area with nothing to do.  So I watched others watching for their friends and family.  They all had the same “waiting” expression—wrapped in thought, their faces somewhat grim but really just concentrating.  But as soon as whoever they were waiting for appeared, they would snap to life.  Instantly they became whoever they were in relation to that person—friend, parent, etc.Seeing such an abrupt change made me wonder: when are we most truly ourselves and most alive?  When we are alone, un-selfconscious, and not performing for anyone?  Or when we are relating to others? 

When I did DTS one of the requirements was to take this personality test, so that we could understand ourselves and our teammates better before we went on our two-month mission trip.  The main topic of conversation for awhile was about who was an extrovert and who was an introvert.  I understood myself a bit better after taking the test (I’m an ISFJ).  As an introvert, I need time alone in order to collect my thoughts, and find inspiration for living.  But at the same time my life would erode without people.  Like anyone, I crave community and friendship.  A few of us at DTS also wondered whether Jesus was an extrovert or an introvert.  There is evidence for both.  He was constantly with his disciples and others, yet he needed time alone and spent long hours in solitary prayer.  So, is it better to be an extrovert or an introvert?  American culture says extrovert, but I don’t think that’s the answer. 

 It is clear from Scripture that we need friends and community to encourage us.  Likewise, regardless of our personality, He asks us to take a little time away from people and pray.  Ironically, we are relating to Him when we do that.  Ultimately, I think that while some of us need a little alone time and some of us need socializing all the time, the ultimate answer to our needs is simply God.  

 Someone else has said what I’m trying to say much more eloquently: 

One who wants fellowship without solitude plunges into the void of words and feelings, and one who seeks solitude without fellowship perishes in the abyss of vanity, self-infatuation, and despair….Let him who cannot be alone beware of community.  Let him who is not in community beware of being alone….One who returns to the Christian family fellowship after fighting the battle of the day brings with him the blessing of his aloneness, but he himself receives anew the blessing of the fellowship….But the strength of aloneness and the strength of the fellowship is solely the strength of the Word of God…(Dietrich Bonhoeffer)

It was with a sense of relief and satisfaction that I fell asleep to the dramatic sounds of the thunderstorm and subsequent downpour a couple nights ago.  I can’t wait for autumn!  I love it so much!  It’s always been my favorite.  While normal people feel blue when it rains, I get more cheerful the darker and stormier it is.  I also love autumn because it signifies a return to routine, regularity, and structure.  Back to school, back to learning, new beginnings.  I love fall clothes, fall food, the hint of holidays to come.  And I’m REALLY excited for the holidays to come, because last Christmas I was in Thailand in sweltering heat missing my family.  It should never feel like summer on Christmas.  So, send in the swirling leaves, Gap sweaters, and pumpkin pie please!

I have lately gotten myself into the habit of running 2-3 times a week.  And while it takes plenty of concentration to  get my undisciplined muscles and frantically contracting lungs to cooperate (I hate running), I also end up thinking a lot.  Granted, I don’t think deeply.  While at the gym my thoughts are mostly fueled by my iPod and the obligatory CNN on the tv overhead, so they usually consist of  “Someone has B.O. and that someone is not me….Anderson Cooper is so sexy….What if I tripped on my shoelaces and fell off the treadmill?  that would be so embarassing….” *

But in addition to burning calories and providing time to think, for me running has become increasingly about observing people.  While Greenlake is rife with strange behavior (I have memories of being there as a child, gaping in astonishment and fear at the “interpretive dancers”), lately the gym has become my favorite observatory.  Initally, I was intimidated by all the muscle-mountains waddling around.  But now, nearly two years later, I’ve come to the realization that most people, instead of sneering at my confusion in the weight room, are wrapped in their own thoughts (prime example: the guy who does a Rocky-like victory dance on the treadmill).  So instead of caring what people think about me, I’ve started watching them which is infinitely more entertaining…

My favorite tool  for observing others is the enormous wall-length mirror that confronts the assembly lines of treadmills and ellipticles.  For example, through this mirror I saw every person in the building tilt their head dreamily to one side and drool a little as soon as the iPhone commercials came on.  What really fascinates me is how every dude walking by that mirror is compelled to gaze at his own muscles.  There are various methods for gazing, some more sneaky than others…one guy does a special twist right as he turns the corner into the locker room so that he can see his full reflection for just a split second.  Others are less self-conscious…I was scandalized the other day to see a guy stop, thoughtfully grip his stomach roll and poke at it for a full minute!

I hope it doesn’t seem that I’m creepy for watching…people can watch me all they want, although it would be pretty boring except when I occasionally choke on my water and have a hysterical coughing fit (which has been happening a lot lately).  I don’t mean to mock people either.  Ultimately I think I keep going back and looking around me because I see what makes daily life worth living…everyman.  Broken, self-absorbed, and totally loveable. 

 *  Maren has insisted I note that if Anderson is straight then she has dibs.

This post is about five days overdo, but I have to say, if you haven’t seen Bourne Ultimatum…SEE IT.  It was seriously the most enjoyable movie I’ve seen in a loooooong time.  Jason Bourne is as miserable and sexy as ever, and while the plot line isn’t as well-rounded as the first two, I thought that the secondary characters (the journalist guy, Julia Stiles) were excellent, and I was clutching at my somewhat startled sister throughout the movie, in absolute terror about what would happen to them.  But, be prepared to have the (cello?) theme music circle around in your head afterwards and torture you until the end of time….

 …and maren just came in and read my post and was all like, “Jessie I do NOT know why you liked that movie, and it was NOT a cello, and this post is SO stupid”, so you should still just see the movie and judge for yourself…

I finished the final Harry Potter book a few days ago, and am still in awe of J.K.’s storytelling skills.  I’m now embarking on my first experience of G.K. Chesterton.  So far I’ve only read the intro to “Orthodoxy”, but was so captivated with it I went out and bought “The Man Who Was Thursday” and am looking forward to plunging in sometime soon…

I’ve been thinking about how it seems that God reveals Himself, or maybe different aspects of Himself, to different people in a way that melds with their unique personality…obviously there are aspects of Him which are essential, but I think that, for example, He speaks to some through music more than others.  I’m realizing more and more that He speaks to me through narratives, and stories.  I have found that that’s where I discover Him most productively.  I’m currently reading the Bible chronologically, and while I had to plough through the first few books and the law with a certain degree of stubborness, I have been moved in ways I didn’t expect, particularly through the stories of Moses.  What I’ve learned would have to occupy a different blog entry, but ultimately I’ve been surprised by a whole aspect of His personality through these stories, and narratives, and God’s interaction with man.

Reading G.K. Chesterton and Harry Potter has caused me to reflect on similar favorites…there is something about those old British fantasy stories, by people like C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, George MacDonald, that captures (for me at least) the mystery of the gospel, and of the Christian walk.  It somehow conveys what is so intriguing about this life that consists of a journey to uncover the mysteries of His nature.  I wonder if part of it is because I first heard those stories when I was young — I have memories of absolute anguish as my mom would finish reading a chapter of “Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe” to us and refuse to keep going because it was bedtime, and of, a few years later, sobbing in absolute despondence as I first read about Gandalf’s untimely end.  I wonder if those stories connected with my childish faith, which is the sort of faith Jesus told us to have but which I always forget to have.  I think the stories where Jesus welcomes children aren’t just cute anecdotes. When he says “I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it” it is important.

I love the dedication Lewis wrote to “Lucy” at the beginning of “Lion, Witch, etc.” :

“My dear Lucy, I wrote this story for you, but when i began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books.  As a result you are already to old for fairy tales…but some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.”

I hope and pray that I will always have an open, childish heart to the mysteries and truths that Lewis and others recognized, the ones that are beyond the hard realities I see in front of me…”For while we are in this tent we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life…”

the joys and trials of having a 12-year-old brother: