Shocking

My life shocks me. It really does. I mean sure there is a stress point here or there, but in all honesty, its amazing. The projects, the classes, the opportunities, but especially the people, it blows my mind.

Everything is illuminated by the past. It may not be true that we are who we were, but we certainly are because we were.

Today I went to chapel, compelled by the word that John Guerra would be leading worship the whole time. I remained on the verge of tears for the duration of the service. Sometimes it was difficult to choke the words out. O the deep deep love of Jesus. Nothing but the blood of Jesus. It occurred to me during these gutting songs that I love Jesus. It is strange because it is the sort of thing I have tried to do for ages, not that I haven't ever, but today it was a discovery, a shocking one, like finding you are in love with a friend who you've known forever but never expected to love. It wasn't me trying to love God anymore, simply me discovering that I have been seduced hopelessly. Perhaps it is the only way it can really happen, because generally my striving to love him seems to result in a numbness. It is an ellusive devil that I chase and chase and when I finally catch it I find my hand empty of anything but a dead shell. And just when I am standing there staring at the shell, trying to figure out where I went wrong I am attacked from behind and realize that I have been the prey all along and the faster I ran the farther I got from the hunter. This may make sense only to my mind just now, but I needed to get it down on something.

Crazy Kids

This is, oddly enough, my fovorite photo of the lot. Lovely girl.





We shared coffee and mittens at the green line coach station, tired but happy in spite of the rubbish brew in the pretty cup.

For anyone at Moody, don't worry, it isn't real. Just a magnet or maybe I photoshopped the photo. For everyone else, look what my wicked sister talked me into in Camden Market.

That was her permanent expression in Trafalger Square, and no I hands down refuse to look up Trafalger to learn how to properly spell it.

This was when Helen figured out how to focus the camera on something off center, a landmark in her flourishing photography career.

This is our trip. Chipped nail polish, Kierkegaard with some random person's underlining and notes all through it (suppose thats the price of stealing books from Moody's library), and an obscenely large thumb ring. Not sure how the thumb ring relates but I am certain it does.

This was my permanent inner expression, a ridiculous grin frozen on my inner face.

Isn't she lovely?




My hat. Actually Banney's hat. Very warm.

We bought two coffees and nicked the comfy chairs in starbucks for two hours. I think we got our money's worth, even if the coffee was abysmal.

This is where we used the amazing free bathrooms and looked at maybe three portraits. Loveit.

Wicked and her Christmas gift.

This photo is elseware on the web, but deserved a second post. Marvelous.

Amazing and amazingly cold. Shiver.

It doesn't look much like a tube here, but it was. And apparently there was a giant "pee stain" on the wall there which Helen won't let me forget I made her stop by for this photo.

This photo also is not original to this post, but it is such a wonderful photo of Helen's and I look so like the character's in horror films that always get killed off in the first ten minutes, I couldn't pass it up.

Helen was terribly embarrassed that I would have the camera out and be taking loud pictures during the bus ride to London, but I would not be stopped. The haunting frost-glazed fog-filled sunrise-lit morning was too much for me to pass up.

We had a laugh or two. A minute.

I just love the sun reflecting off the windows of that o-so-European building there. Couldn't resist.




These are the doughnuts we bought in Tesco edxpress and illegally smuggled into the National Portrait Gallery to eat with cold, sludglike, extortionately expensive coffee.

Happy as clams, tubing the tunnels of London's subteranean.

Yes, those were actually Jodi's gloves that we were sharing.

a Prolific diary of ThanksGiving in Chicago

Here is an extensive photo-journal of the celebrations of Thanksgiving of 2006 for six fortunate people.

Many too many large people (one) for this small kitchen.


Kate looking happy to play the mum role for all the lost little boys.


sweetness.


An enjoyable photo from the deep well of Paul Davis' soul.


Like proud parents or something. Weird.


Paul vs. the celery.


Kathryn the domestic one.


"trying" to be helpful.


A little glimpse of heaven.


Beauty in the form of stuffed celery.





Samm "the Barbarian" Banthien Hodges ladies and gentlemen.


Doesn't that look inviting?


I just like the photo. Nothing spiritual.


We may have looked ridiculous, but we felt amazing at that moment, perched at the edge of edible bliss.



Just thought I would showcase this sweet photo of Dan's for no other reason than its undeniable sweetness.



The epitome of male leadership.








This was a meager attempt by me to break the male stereotype my counterparts were working so diligently to reinforce. ("no keep the male sterotype, its worked for years!" - anonymous)





I love finding narcissistic photos like this on my camera. Means I'm not the only one.


Just a sweet bridge.


I like to consider this impressionistic photography. As opposed to what it actually is...a shaky freakin photo.



Lovin in the night on a deserted city bridge, doesn't get much better than that. Unless of course you are lovin in the night on a city bridge with a free photographer to capture the moment...


Uh oh.


I had to climb an uncomfortable beam for this picture. Worth it?


No town like Chi-town.


Paul "the wild-eyed prophet" Davis.


What can I say, this just looked flippin sweet, I couldn't resist.


And so the fellowship of the Turkey set out...


Shooting the breeze.


Roomie Winne.


I can never get over the beauty of this city and these people.


Doesn't Samm look like a genius in this photo?


Dan "the..." Winne.


The crazies.


The love birds.


We all ducked down as the El (spanish for the "the") went past so as not to be spotted and ...who knows what could have happened then...


The lads trying to break into the piano factory to try to steal some keys.


my wonderful home.


Samm looking very...yes.



Just to make everyone envy Chicago and its amazing...sticks in the water.

symmetry.



These are my Irish hit men. Vicious, but cheap.


Kate and Paul the porter carrying my crocks and scarf.


Samm climbing out of the bridge where he was considering living.


My sister and brother (more or less)


Notice that more or less every photo of me is a little out of focus. The camera must automatically know who should be in front of the camera, and who should stay behind it.

I know, its an anticlimactic end. Dont' care.