<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109</id><updated>2011-08-20T12:04:13.744-04:00</updated><category term='moving'/><category term='lessons'/><category term='basketball'/><category term='politics'/><category term='family'/><category term='sports'/><category term='random'/><category term='death'/><category term='community'/><category term='boys'/><category term='music'/><category term='sabbath'/><category term='fear'/><category term='faith'/><category term='jason'/><category term='cars'/><category term='time'/><category term='friends'/><category term='money'/><title type='text'>So this is life...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>44</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-6962981302048711968</id><published>2009-03-10T13:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T13:58:48.203-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Come find me!</title><content type='html'>So now I'm going to post at janelblanchard.com.  Find me there.  I'll try to format it at some point but I'm not good at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love!&lt;br /&gt;Janel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-6962981302048711968?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/6962981302048711968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=6962981302048711968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6962981302048711968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6962981302048711968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2009/03/come-find-me.html' title='Come find me!'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-8209718330881602241</id><published>2009-02-05T23:19:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T11:23:55.349-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><title type='text'>Lotions, Emotions, and Ruminotions. ("Ruminations" does not really rhyme.)</title><content type='html'>A few weeks ago, I bought some lotion that was on sale at Victoria's Secret. (No, I didn't need it. It was on sale and smelled nice. I will use up all my lotion eventually, I promise.) Tonight while washing my face I noticed its name. "Confident Body Lotion."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, either the body lotion is confident, or it is supposed to make me confident, cf. my new Jergens Firming Body Lotion. (No, I didn't need it, but I was hoping it would do more for my dry skin plus help me prep my body for the upcoming summer months-- hello, 70 degree weather next week! Also, it was on sale and came with two travel size lotions.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my point about confidence-infusing body lotion.  Does it smell like Confidence, thereby inspiring me to be confident?  Or does it smell just Generally Good, thereby convincing me that I am worthy of self-confidence?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter, although I think it must be that it smells like Confidence (which incidentally is defined as "mandarin orange") since I also bought Energize Body Lotion, also on sale. Side note-- Please name your products consistently. You can't name one lotion "Confidence" and then the other "Energize."  It needs to be "Energy," to keep them as nouns. Leave verbs out of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, enough tangents. I apologize.  My thought process is as follows:&lt;br /&gt;1. If smelling like mandarin oranges gives me confidence, how easy is it to lose? Or why do I need a lotion to make me confident? It doesn't add any substance. Whatever I am confident about due to the lotion will be a part of me whether or not I smell like mandarin oranges. (Why have I never seen a valencia orange-fragranced lotion? What's so special about mandarin oranges?)&lt;br /&gt;2. If I, or others, buy lotions based on my/our needs (confidence, energy, relaxation, etc), what else do we buy or buy into in order to quiet our anxieties over what we lack?  Where am I looking to complete me?&lt;br /&gt;3. If all purchases are made for needs or luxuries, then what we don't need we want.  Why do I want new clothes? The latest iPod? A sweet ride/designer perfume/a boyfriend/a job/friends? Now, that might be a little harsh (some would say they "need" a job and friends), but I want to take this to the logical conclusion. What do I think I lack?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose if I look at my wants (which I wrote about in my last post, actually), it looks like what I want most is purpose and significance. I want to matter... to matter to the public (job, a championship, NASCAR, success in some arena), to a man, to myself. Isn't that what we all want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is my mattering, my purpose, my significance?  I think dwelling on my wants rather than the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;reason&lt;/span&gt; for my wants has caused me most of my uneasiness over this life stage. I hate being idle, but I hate it because I want instant gratification through recognition of my value in a workplace. If I can't even be unemployed for a little while when it's common, socially acceptable and I have so many fun things to do, how am I going to be content to stay behind the scenes and raise my children?  If I don't conquer this now, I could become one of those mothers who live vicariously through their kids' successes and failures, holding them to impossibly high standards and putting my own desires for recognition and validation above their need to grow up, make mistakes, and follow their unique passions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird... I thought this blog was going to take the course of "we buy iPods to feel cool; we buy designer labels to look successful; we buy lotion/perfumes/makeup to make us feel attractive when really it's what's behind that that makes us attractive or not." I guess I'm so self-obsessed and narcissistic (my blog, facebook, &amp;amp; twitter all are evidence to this point) that I can't even write a philosophical entry about the tendencies of the consumeristic American culture to use things to fill their empty hearts. It always has to be about me, I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm off to address the reason behind my many wants and uneasiness... and then I'm going to bed. I also want to apologize for the profuse sprinkling of parentheses in this entry. I'm not usually so grotesquely liberal with them and I don't want to abuse your patience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-8209718330881602241?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/8209718330881602241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=8209718330881602241' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/8209718330881602241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/8209718330881602241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2009/02/lotions-emotions-and-ruminotions.html' title='Lotions, Emotions, and Ruminotions. (&quot;Ruminations&quot; does not really rhyme.)'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-3042238004116886992</id><published>2009-01-20T00:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T17:50:30.757-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Jealousy</title><content type='html'>I hope that by naming these things to the world, they will have less power over me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Things of which I am jealous"&lt;br /&gt;aka "If you have these things, I'm jealous of you"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;steady jobs&lt;br /&gt;comfy apartments&lt;br /&gt;championship rings (especially Super Bowl)&lt;br /&gt;designer perfumes&lt;br /&gt;size 0&lt;br /&gt;husbands&lt;br /&gt;fiances&lt;br /&gt;boyfriends&lt;br /&gt;famous acquaintances/friends&lt;br /&gt;pretty/fat babies&lt;br /&gt;artistic talent&lt;br /&gt;musical talent&lt;br /&gt;dramatic talent&lt;br /&gt;really impressive athletic talent&lt;br /&gt;convertibles&lt;br /&gt;hybrid luxury cars&lt;br /&gt;spot on NASCAR circuit&lt;br /&gt;patience&lt;br /&gt;purpose&lt;br /&gt;the ability to eat noodles, bread, bagels, cookies, brownies, cake, twizzlers, soy sauce, pizza, etc without repercussions&lt;br /&gt;international savvy&lt;br /&gt;multilinguality (I know that's not a word)&lt;br /&gt;private jets&lt;br /&gt;odd but super-cool fashion sense&lt;br /&gt;the ability to buy cheap-and-comfy sexy shoes&lt;br /&gt;law degree&lt;br /&gt;doctoral degree&lt;br /&gt;various other advanced degrees&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-3042238004116886992?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/3042238004116886992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=3042238004116886992' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3042238004116886992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3042238004116886992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2009/01/jealousy.html' title='Jealousy'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-6048949213910770824</id><published>2009-01-16T00:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T22:53:46.912-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Square One</title><content type='html'>You're in control/Is there anywhere you want to go?&lt;br /&gt;The future's for discovering/The space in which we're travelling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too bad it seems as if I am just discovering tread-upon ground.  I'm retreading the "sphere in which [I've] been brought up." (Maybe if I'm wise, I won't quit it, eh, Lady Catherine?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent all day, with the help of my good friend, Jeremy, packing up the remnants of my life on Medalist Drive and delivering it to my family's home in Chapel Hill.  I have mixed feelings, not because I dread living here, or I think I will feel like I'm 18 again; rather, I always feel somewhat anxious when the future is unclear.  I haven't had to deal with that feeling very often in my short life, despite all the moves.  At least I have always had my family there, and that constant is not in the least unappreciated.  But not only have I moved back in with my parents like myriad other recent college graduates, but I also have no idea how long I will be here or how long I will be unemployed. I want to hold out for something amazing, but I may have to settle for something to pay the bills. God knows what I need to do and how I need to spend my time, and what will prepare me for the calling he has on my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready for another adventure. Should I go off to Turkey with Mom's friends?  Should I apply for jobs in another city? Which? I can pick any city... the hard part is actually getting hired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I wait to answer my questions, or better yet, to have my questions answered, I will take it a day at a time. I am closer to Tiffany&amp;amp;Joe, Becca, Kristine, and Katie, and now I'm within walking distance of Trader Joe's and Whole Foods! (Again.) My furniture is in the same exact layout as when I left at 18, but I believe I'm a little wiser and more appreciative and less self-centered. (Yes, it is possible that I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; self-centered than I am now! Shocker, I know.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who said you can't go home again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-6048949213910770824?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/6048949213910770824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=6048949213910770824' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6048949213910770824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6048949213910770824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2009/01/square-one.html' title='Square One'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-3442652542865852890</id><published>2009-01-10T00:24:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T01:02:49.573-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>A Conversation, or 3+4=7 (DCB reference), or the Diary of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":v4"&gt;ok so you want to know what just happened&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div id=":v6" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":v5"&gt;i just clicked on your box to type you something...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then you already said something else&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":v7"&gt;ok you tell me first then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":v8" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;i'm sure you thought of it first, but i was too quick for you so i beat you to it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[redacted because it's not very nice]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":vp"&gt;hold on, that does sound interesting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":vq"&gt;shut up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;so i sold my couch today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":vu"&gt;congratulations&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[redacted because it's not interesting or funny]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":w2"&gt;yeah i suppose&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;ok so now it's my turn to tell you my story&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":w4"&gt;hit me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":w5"&gt;so i had been a little jumpy when my phone went off in the past 5 minutes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span dir="ltr" id=":w5"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div id=":w6" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;but then my speaker started making noise like my phone was going to ring&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":w8" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;and i noticed, and then my phone rang, and my heart skipped like 3 beats and i said out loud "freaking a"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":w9" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;and nobody's here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id=":wa" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;but I HAD NOTICED and i still jumped&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wb"&gt;...that was possibly the most confusing story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wc"&gt;really?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wd"&gt;so your phone didnt ring, but then it did? and then you jumped?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":we" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;what&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wf"&gt;it did ring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div id=":wg" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;no this is what happened&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":wh" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;my mom texted me, and i jumped a lil&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wi"&gt;why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":wj" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;is your phone scary?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wk"&gt;b/c i'm jumpy! and then she &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wk"&gt;texted me AGAIN, and before it came through and the sound was made and it vibrated, the speaker started being fuzzy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div id=":wl" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;and i thought to myself "i bet my phone will ring"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":wm" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;and then it DID ring&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":wn" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;and i jumped a LOT and shouted "Freaking AAAA!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":wo" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;and no, my phone is not scary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wp"&gt;hahaha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":wr" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;you need to journal that story. if anything from your life is worth passing down through generations, its that story.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wu"&gt;ok i'll put it in my blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":wv"&gt;hah good&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":ww"&gt;actually i'll just put this whole conversation in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div id=":wx" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;oh crap, i cant&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":wy" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[redacted because it's not very nice]&lt;/span&gt; should not be preserved&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":wz" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;dang it nick, you screwed everything up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":x0"&gt;hahah well just edit that part out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":x1"&gt;it wont make sense then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;bc the first thing you say is that you were going to say something, and then i will edit&lt;br /&gt;out everything you said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[redacted because it's not interesting]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt; &lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":xa"&gt;i was actually be facetious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":xb" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;factitious?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":xc"&gt;no you were right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":xd"&gt;i was being snide.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":xe"&gt;facetious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":xf" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;what?!? you?!?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":xi"&gt;snarky is probably my favorite adjective&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":xj" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;or snarkily as an adverb&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":xk" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;if i was on a spelling bee team, we'd be called the snarks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":xl"&gt;yeah i could see that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div id=":xm" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;haha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":xn" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;only a spelling team?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":xp" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;can i be on the snarks?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":xq" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;i'm a grade-A speller&lt;/div&gt;one time my cousin and i were going to be in a talent show and she said "what can you do?" and the only thing i could think of was "i can spell!"&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":xw"&gt;well what other team would appreciate the snarks?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":xy" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;haha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":xz"&gt;it's true&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":y0"&gt;thats awesome&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":y1"&gt;yeah, she didn't think so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":y2"&gt;that is entry 2 to your diary of life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":y3"&gt;she was like cmon janel there must be something you can do... and i was like, nope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div dir="t" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":y4"&gt;how old were you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":y7"&gt;um, 14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":y8"&gt;this wasnt in college?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":y9" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;oh wow, i was thinking like 8&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":ya" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;well you could have always fought in a battle of wits&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":yb" dir="ltr" class="h8iICe"&gt;thats talent show quality&lt;/div&gt;put on a suit of armor and verbally berate some 14 year olds&lt;div dir="f" class="RNCQof" role="chatMessage" live="assertive"&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":yf"&gt;that is brilliant. i would wax the floor with the spittle from their braces-filled mouths&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="Q2bXSc"&gt;&lt;span class="ej8B8e" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":yg"&gt;haha spittle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick, I can't thank you enough for the constant inspiration you are to me. For example, the above snippet of conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my faithful readers: If you were disappointed by the lack of substance to this post, please lodge your complaints with the administrator at administrator@gmail.com. If you thought this glimpse into the everyday occurances in the life of the author was worthwhile and insightful, please feel free to leave complimentary comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-3442652542865852890?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/3442652542865852890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=3442652542865852890' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3442652542865852890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3442652542865852890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2009/01/conversation-or-347-dcb-reference-or.html' title='A Conversation, or 3+4=7 (DCB reference), or the Diary of Life'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-3797098407809811568</id><published>2009-01-01T13:49:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T14:27:03.277-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fear'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>Myself When I Am Real</title><content type='html'>A brand new year that is full of... potential. What an ugly word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to think "potential" was hopeful but now it's more scary than anything else. I find myself praying that I will be able to go a whole calendar year without a dear friend dying suddenly and tragically. (If I were feeling optimistic, I'd be thinking it's already been 10 months since the last death, so only two to go!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'm a negative person in general. I turn to pessimism as a defense mechanism when I care about something, like when I was in middle school and would insist we (Carolina) were going to lose a game so that if we lost, I could at least say, "I knew it." So silly. But I don't want to get my hopes up. As my ex so foolishly but unforgettably said, if you don't have any expectations, you can't be disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not a happy way to start off the year, but it's what I'm thinking. I'm afraid. I fear not finding a new job; I fear moving out of my apartment (logistically and regarding what it means for my comfort/selfish lifestyle); I fear being alone or having to move to a new place later in the year. This last fear surprises me, since generally I'm up for adventure and new scenery. I think I've adjusted enough to life-after-college that I have a good balance with my friends and I'm okay with being in North Carolina because it still offers new things and people and when I need to get out, I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be afraid. I'm generally brave and strong. But I'm learning that I can't know what will happen, I can't control it, tragedies happen, and "life is full of such trials, as our sister Mary reminds us daily," as the incomparable Elizabeth Bennet says in P&amp;amp;P.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A (not) profound bumper sticker I saw today declared, "life is good."  I was surprised that tacky Christian marketing companies haven't yet commandeered that logo and inserted "God" rather than "life" in the vein of "Got Jesus?"-type ad campaigns. After all, life is good only &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sometimes&lt;/span&gt;, and thankfully, God isn't just good once in a while. He's always, always good, even when it doesn't look like it. And the ability to trust that that's true is called faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I see myself and my life more clearly than I have in the past, and although that's small progress and, unfortunately, often results in disappointment in myself rather than increased faith in God, I can live more honestly and openly and can be vulnerable, waiting for the conquering strength of the Spirit to finish the work He's begun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bebo Norman, whose earlier cd title I stole for this post, has a new song that encapsulates my current soul location...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;laying flat upon my back, all the world in motion&lt;br /&gt;everything goes by so fast, i feel like i'm frozen&lt;br /&gt;after all is said and done, did i fail to mention&lt;br /&gt;everything i haven't done, all my good intentions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have no fear of height or depth, have no fear of crashing&lt;br /&gt;the single thing i fear the most, simply feeling nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is my holy hour; this is my world on fire&lt;br /&gt;this is my desperate play; this is where i am made&lt;br /&gt;this is my kingdom come; this is my freedom song&lt;br /&gt;this is my helpless state; this is where i am saved&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let my ruins become the ground you build upon&lt;br /&gt;let my ruins become the stars&lt;br /&gt;let my ruins become the ground you build upon&lt;br /&gt;from what's left of my broken heart...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-3797098407809811568?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/3797098407809811568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=3797098407809811568' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3797098407809811568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3797098407809811568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2009/01/myself-when-i-am-real.html' title='Myself When I Am Real'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-42853711685036704</id><published>2008-12-12T21:56:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T10:46:33.830-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am sorry, but I have a good excuse.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUle19oQcI/AAAAAAAAACw/nPcLYJs_zQU/s1600-h/IMG_3736.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUle19oQcI/AAAAAAAAACw/nPcLYJs_zQU/s320/IMG_3736.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279667349973647810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So oftentimes, when I go on a fun trip or have a lot going on at once, I don't get a chance to journal.  The night after said period, I have so much to write and think and pray about that my arm gets tired and I quit temporarily. Hopefully that won't happen now, as I try to update this neglected blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is crazy. This is a theme being enforced every day. I went to NYC on December 3 for some meetings. I cleaned out my desk before I left, having heard the rumors of the impending layoff. My mom and I had a splendid time with my cousin Brendan, his new bride Liz nee Persing, Liz's parents, and their friends Maddie, Joel, and Rachael. We ate dinner, drank wine and got all rosy, and chatted about everything, including SNL skits and Haitians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning I woke up to a voicemail from my ex-manager saying the typical, "company is moving in another direction and the changes directly affect you so please come to my office at 8am on Monday." Great way to start a big day of meetings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 11:30am, I met with a high ranking official in IMG, a sports/entertainment group. It went well enough; he didn't have any jobs available but said he'd let me know if he did hear of anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 2pm, I met with the president of CBS Sports and CBS News (who also happens to be an ex-boyfriend of my mother). Sidenote: I got these meetings because my parents have an influential friend. Again that went well; I would say better than the IMG meeting because he knew Mom and they chatted for 30 minutes about their old friends, not having seen one another in 32 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 5pm, I met with two senior vice presidents at ESPN. This meeting was fantastic. They brainstormed about who they could arrange for me to meet with at ESPN Americas, ESPN Deportes, and ESPN The Magazine. We talked for an hour and 15 minutes about Plaxico Burress, the new Yankees Stadium, the 08 Final Four, and of course what I want to do with my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, Mom, Liz, and I had fun in Times Square, 30 Rock, Anthropologie, and at "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway, and we left on Saturday afternoonish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, everybody has been asking me, "What now? What are you going to do with yourself?"  Henceforth, I may simply direct them to this blog to avoid having to verbally admit the fact that I haven't the faintest.  I don't know what kind of job to look for; I don't know where to look for a job; I don't know how long it will take or with what I should busy myself in the meantime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to Costa Rica on Tuesday through Sunday. I am looking forward to it tremendously, and when I get back, I will only have a few days until Christmas.  After Christmas, I will begin my job search in earnest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I wish I were in a relationship. I would have more clarity about where I wanted to live... but on the other hand, I'd be more restricted. (Maybe not: I still hesitate to leave my family, surprisingly.)  I would have somebody to physically go through this with, to support me spiritually, and to offer advice and input.  Maybe if we were far enough along in our relationship, we could get married.  It's cheaper for two people to live together and share finances than for one to live alone. Also, I wouldn't have to move home with my parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that that's the end of the world. Jean, Ellen, and I are all about to start living with the rents again. I am not alone in this situation. I can't count on being able to afford rent, plus I can't commit to a lease. So living at home is ideal, except for the fact that I have furniture and STUFF that will have a hard time fitting back into that house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the most boring post I've written in a long time, and for that, I apologize. So, to compensate, I've added some photos. These are not exclusive; I have uploaded them to facebook, but it will spice up this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUl33m-5uI/AAAAAAAAAC4/iSWaIrX5Fsc/s1600-h/IMG_3703.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUl33m-5uI/AAAAAAAAAC4/iSWaIrX5Fsc/s320/IMG_3703.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279667779912263394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUm1Jw6E6I/AAAAAAAAADI/Jk5A3rSy0BI/s1600-h/IMG_3754.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUm1Jw6E6I/AAAAAAAAADI/Jk5A3rSy0BI/s320/IMG_3754.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279668832757748642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUoB5yPAcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/NJVfRIiwjgI/s1600-h/IMG_3708.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUoB5yPAcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/NJVfRIiwjgI/s320/IMG_3708.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279670151318274498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUpUHuITYI/AAAAAAAAADY/ga6RD4tU0d4/s1600-h/IMG_3746.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUpUHuITYI/AAAAAAAAADY/ga6RD4tU0d4/s320/IMG_3746.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279671563808427394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-42853711685036704?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/42853711685036704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=42853711685036704' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/42853711685036704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/42853711685036704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-am-sorry-but-i-have-good-excuse.html' title='I am sorry, but I have a good excuse.'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HD4LsT99dWs/SUUle19oQcI/AAAAAAAAACw/nPcLYJs_zQU/s72-c/IMG_3736.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-6066536201877418328</id><published>2008-10-21T22:04:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T22:24:29.888-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>My Yesterday</title><content type='html'>Doesn't that title sound like an emo 90s rock song?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my Monday was very uninteresting compared to my weekend -- I went to the State Fair on Sunday after my DC trip, which was complete with visits to Adams Morgan &amp;amp; the Smithsonian, two must-sees which should always go hand-in-hand -- but a monumental event occurred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left work at 4pm because I started feeling shitty. As I took a left onto the street unto which my apartment complex abuts, I was waved to a stop -- in the middle of my lane -- by a cop whose car (and that of his partner) was parked in the median. What?! I'm obviously still going slow enough that he could walk in front of me and get me to stop. He asks if I know the speed limit; I said 35 (I had been going MAYBE 33 at that point), and he asks for my license. He said it's a school zone and the flashing lights earlier on the street should have informed me the limit was 25. (Again-- MAYBE 33.) He then proceeded to direct me to make a u-turn, go back to the traffic light, make another u-turn, and tell him if I see any flashing lights this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk about a power trip. As I drove along my prescribed route of punishment, I wondered if it were a trick. Maybe he was going to get me for driving without a license since he was running mine through the system at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing came up on my license of course, and he gave me a warning. I was going home because I was sick and had barely been driving up to the limit anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny how I can speed around DC or Chapel Hill for the last seven years going 10-12 mph over the limit and never get caught, but then I slowly trudge home from work when I'm feeling sickly and I get waved down by a power tripping cop ON FOOT. Wtf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I came home and went to sleep at 6pm. I woke up to wash my face at 11:30, but besides that, I slept soundly til 6am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-6066536201877418328?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/6066536201877418328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=6066536201877418328' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6066536201877418328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6066536201877418328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-yesterday.html' title='My Yesterday'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-4467129700769866013</id><published>2008-10-09T20:10:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T20:34:13.378-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>The Odds of Peanut Butter M&amp;Ms</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, something phenomenal happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nina and I go to CVS every day almost to have a short 15 minute break from CP craziness. On this most recent trip, I bought a small pack of peanut butter M&amp;amp;Ms. (You know, the ones in the red/orange bag.) I ate them at my computer, and when I neared the end, I poured the remaining candies into my hand. Lo and behold-- there were six M&amp;amp;Ms left-- one of each color.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if you are good at math, please correct me here if I am wrong. I believe the odds of that happening are 1 in 720.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some may call this luck. Some may call it chance. Some may call it happenstance. Some may call it destiny (to what point, I ask?). I choose "luck," because I don't consider myself lucky and I don't believe in luck. So why not call it that? I don't win anything in random drawings, but maybe that's because I always win in competitions. (Just kidding; I wish!) Two point five years ago I won 2 tickets to see Live8 in London. (Concert tickets, not plane + concert tickets-- I was already there.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 in 720 is not impossible (obviously), and is better than a lot of lottery odds. But I just thought it was kinda cool. One red, one orange, one yellow, one green, one blue, and one brown. It was a very aesthetically, mathematically, and taste-ily satisfying event.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-4467129700769866013?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/4467129700769866013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=4467129700769866013' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4467129700769866013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4467129700769866013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/10/odds-of-peanut-butter-m.html' title='The Odds of Peanut Butter M&amp;Ms'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-5311229856642925516</id><published>2008-09-16T22:37:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T22:56:44.445-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>To be... or to be more?</title><content type='html'>Maybe eventually I'll get to the age when I don't have this constant, pulling urge to go Where I'm Not. Everywhere where I currently "am not" sounds amazing. Occasionally I'll have a day or night where I feel perfectly at ease, comfortable with who I'm becoming, happy with where I am, content with the thought of not knowing what's around the bend. But more often, I am wondering what it would be like to lead another life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This perpetual grass-is-always-greener phenomenon gets old after a while, and presents to others a sort of problematic instability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A homeowner today said if she were me, she'd "go [live in Europe] in a heartbeat." I would have said the same thing to anybody who was in my position, but I can't just go in a heartbeat. I have student loans; I owe my parents money; I need money to live. I would need a job before I moved to Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to constantly be changing with the seasons, but I think I'm addicted to change. I haven't stayed in one place for a full year since 2000, and I've liked that. There's no real need to settle down now, and I want to take advantage of my youth and energy. I so enjoy being close to my best friends and my family... But will I look back in ten years and wish I had done something crazy and rash and just been an adventurous twentysomething?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably. After all, the grass is always greener. And if I throw caution to the wind and end up financially insecure, I'll probably regret the "stability" I could have reached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny, that. The economy is so awful at the moment that even stability is only an illusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JD was talking about freedom on Sunday, and how serving Christ is freedom even though there are restrictions. Freedom is not lack of constraints; freedom is living as we were meant to, within our constraints, like a fish being "free" to live in the constraints of water. If the fish were to escape to freedom on land, it would die. We all serve something, whether it's the Lord or a fear. JD said to ask ourselves to think about the future and find out what would scare us the most if it were absent in our future. My DC friends that came to visit this weekend said the idea of a relationship came to mind; for me, it was financial stability. A telling answer, no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretend that I trust God with my finances, but how much risk have I ever put myself under? None, to be honest. I am not supposed to be foolish, but I am supposed to be brave. Where is the Wizard of Oz when you need him anyway? I could go for some knowledge of my decisions, courage to make those decisions, heart to love blindly and blissfully each step of the way, and a home to bring with me, to make me feel comforted no matter where I go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-5311229856642925516?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/5311229856642925516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=5311229856642925516' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5311229856642925516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5311229856642925516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/09/to-be-or-to-be-more.html' title='To be... or to be more?'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-4149296913601489475</id><published>2008-09-09T22:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T22:30:04.589-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>Worshipping at the Altar of the Fun God, or What Would Neferheehee Do?</title><content type='html'>As I was driving home one night, the car in front of me had a 'vanity' plate that said "LV4FUN."  That is a worldview statement, whether the person driving the car realized it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all are seeking what we think will make us happiest. And not just immediate gratification-- we all plan our individual pursuits of happiness.  When we're young, we don't understand the concept of delayed gratification very well. We search for the next piece of candy or the next toy, with no plan as to how to approach that desire and then fulfill it. When we're older, we sacrifice a third of our lives for weeks and months and years to make money to fulfill our desires. It's the same pursuit as the child seeking a lollipop-- gratification-- but we understand the cost of reaching that goal. Hedonism is our life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, what if we come to realize that the greatest, highest good, the "summum bonum," isn't sex or money or power or even fun (!!!), but instead is fulfilling our purpose and enjoying the most wonderful, beautiful experience in the universe? That's what is meant by Christian hedonism. Discovering that Jesus Christ is the consummation of every desire of our hearts and that the "delay" of gratification may be longer than a lifetime will explain the change in lifestyle. It's not that Christians are better people... it's that they have discovered what truly will satisfy and what is Truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To multiply your enjoyment of a beautiful sunset or a breathtaking mountain view, you want to share it with somebody. It's not nearly as good to go to an art museum or to a fun movie or to anything you enjoy by yourself. It's the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sharing&lt;/span&gt; of joy that magnifies and multiplies it and propels us to spread the gospel. The gospel is that everything awful will one day be made beautiful; that Jesus has brought the answers our hearts' desire; that there's more to our lives than this often-ugly mortality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will be another life, another earth, and another body. We weren't made to be bodyless spirits; we were made to be a trinity of flesh, spirit, and soul. When Christ comes back, redeems the earth, and reigns here as King, we will again be that trinity. We'll have tangible bodies again that will look like us now, but 10000x better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that in mind, the Christian can live with a "finish line" just beyond the moment of death. Most people go through their lives trying to survive and trying to enjoy what they have until death inevitably ends their fruitless, pointless struggling. But we know the truth-- that there is a purpose, that there is a meaning, that there is a loving God who hasn't yet put everything right (He cares more about justice than any of us do!) but who one day will do just that-- He will be the perfectly just Judge who determines how things are to be, just as they were at the beginning, and now even better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Behold, I make all things new," said (and will say) Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now I can live not for immediate fun (although I still want to experience God's love and beauty and humor and community in fun activities, appreciating the blessings he has given me), but for getting to know Him better. He is the summum bonum, the highest good, the most fun thing in (and outside of) our ever-expanding universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Seek first the kingdom of God and all these things will be added to you." I want to get to know God like you'd get to know a new crush. Like you'd get to know your parents when you're finally old enough to appreciate them as humans. Like you'd get to know a generous mentor who has determined to treat you like a daughter and help you with whatever you need. But even better-- this is the Creator of the universe that created me and wants me to get to know him and love him as he has loved me since the beginning of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is huge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-4149296913601489475?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/4149296913601489475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=4149296913601489475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4149296913601489475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4149296913601489475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/08/worshipping-at-altar-of-fun-god-or-what.html' title='Worshipping at the Altar of the Fun God, or What Would Neferheehee Do?'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-4600131898745316360</id><published>2008-09-04T22:16:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T22:19:54.343-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>This Dream Was NOT a Wish My Heart Made</title><content type='html'>Last night I woke up at 3:45am and thought that what I had been dreaming would be a wonderful premise for a movie or short story. So, I jotted down a few notes. When I got up this morning, this is what I could decipher of my sleepy handwriting:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has anyone seen my m&amp;amp;ms?&lt;br /&gt;Your daughter has them&lt;br /&gt;But how she's not considerate; she's not like me&lt;br /&gt;She's not your daughter&lt;br /&gt;Psh- but I was pregnant and I remember her as a kid&lt;br /&gt;No...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not lying. That's what I wrote/remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story: Janel is NOT very smart when asleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-4600131898745316360?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/4600131898745316360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=4600131898745316360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4600131898745316360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4600131898745316360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/09/this-dream-was-not-wish-my-heart-made.html' title='This Dream Was NOT a Wish My Heart Made'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-970124639130856301</id><published>2008-08-23T09:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T10:24:16.026-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>For the Love of Lists and Comfort</title><content type='html'>Lists give me the illusion of control. If I can see everything I have to do in one place, I feel like it's manageable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to continue my illusion of control and for your reading pleasure, a few lists...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;books that I own and need to read: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the audacity of hope (one chapter to go)&lt;br /&gt;united states of europe (1/3 finished)&lt;br /&gt;something rising&lt;br /&gt;a reason for God&lt;br /&gt;putin's russia&lt;br /&gt;surprised by hope (1/3 finished)&lt;br /&gt;the Jesus i never knew&lt;br /&gt;faithful women &amp;amp; their extraordinary God&lt;br /&gt;discipline, the glad surrender&lt;br /&gt;walk on: U2's journey of faith&lt;br /&gt;perpetua&lt;br /&gt;the papa prayer (1/3 finished)&lt;br /&gt;Jesus among other gods&lt;br /&gt;a christian manifesto&lt;br /&gt;oliver twist&lt;br /&gt;i know why the caged bird sings&lt;br /&gt;silas marner&lt;br /&gt;the mill on the floss&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;favorite things about fall:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;football season!!!!&lt;br /&gt;it's almost basketball season&lt;br /&gt;less humidity/beautiful weather&lt;br /&gt;school supplies (unfortunately I can't enjoy this again until grad school or until my first child goes to kindergarten which may be a few years)&lt;br /&gt;camping or kayaking or biking trips&lt;br /&gt;end of wedding season&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;things i feel i need to control but that in reality i have no control over:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;finances &amp;amp; employment&lt;br /&gt;life plan: husband, kids&lt;br /&gt;health &amp;amp; safety (i work out and wear my seatbelt-- i do my part but really that promises me nothing)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;things i do have control over:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how often i pray relationally&lt;br /&gt;my contentment with my circumstances&lt;br /&gt;my attachment to this world&lt;br /&gt;how i treat my family and friends&lt;br /&gt;how i spend my time and money&lt;br /&gt;how i see my God&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I see God as a divine vending machine or a person to fall in love with? How do you fall in love with somebody? You get to know them. You don't ask them for things, see how much they give you, and then, based on that, decide how you will love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Jason died, (I've said this before) I realized that I always thought God was good because my life was good.  Since then, in the pain and heartbreak, I've gotten to know Him better. He is good whether or not my life is good. I know He's good because of what He's done in the past. He never changes, but my life will change. My comfortable years may be over; maybe before I turn 24, I'll have such tragedy and pain that I will have experienced all the 'good' I'm to see on this earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's all right, because there comes a brighter day, a day when He will finish making all things new. A new earth, a new king, a new life for all of us who believe Him and are trying to see Him as He is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hardest thing that I foresee about the future is responsibility for others. Right now, if I don't have control, it's not that bad because it'd only be I that suffers. But the greatest fear of marriage, for me, is loss. I've already lost one that I loved and I could lose another. The risk of loss makes loving a dangerous choice. And then, my greatest fear of being a mother is losing my child. Every day is a day I could lose my child. I have no control on their survival in utero, or while at home, or at school, or when they are grown. I don't ever want to go through what the Rays experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thank God for Jesus Christ, whose life and death and resurrection promise to me that this life is passing away, and a new and brighter dawn is on the horizon. He is the bright and morning star, in whose light everything else fades away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"turn your eyes upon Jesus/look full in His wonderful face&lt;br /&gt;and the things of earth will grow strangely dim/in the light of his glory and grace"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the first step in surrendering control is realizing who really is in control, and that all my feeble and pathetic efforts to direct my situation is simply "chasing after the wind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I still like lists.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-970124639130856301?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/970124639130856301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=970124639130856301' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/970124639130856301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/970124639130856301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/08/for-love-of-lists-and-comfort.html' title='For the Love of Lists and Comfort'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-2902800518108015454</id><published>2008-08-21T08:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T08:33:35.521-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='basketball'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><title type='text'>Is this Cheating?</title><content type='html'>I wrote the following as a guest blogger for a friend back in early April.  I'm feeling lazy (and may be getting sick) so I'm just going to copy and paste it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Janel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm an A-type, firstborn female, and sometimes I overreact.  I've always had a tend to dress up my bad situations with a little dramatic flair. Throughout my few years of life, I have started to realize I shouldn't react quite so violently... things could always get worse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was four years old, I was in acrobatics class.  The only thing I remember from this portion of my pre-elementary days is standing in line to do a somersault. I pushed the other little kids as we stood in line at acrobatics class; my mom told me if I continued to push them, even when provoked (which I was, sorely!), I couldn't go to acrobatics anymore.  Needless to say, they shoved me and I pushed them back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother kept her word and delivered the punishment for breaking the ultimatum: my days as a four-year old prodigy acrobatic star were done. Irrevocably. I responded in turn: "This is the worst day of my life!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was a very true statement.  I had lived less than 1,500 days.  In those 1,500 days, the only similarly negative event had been the birth of Shaun, the younger rival for my parents' attention.  And being expelled from acrobatics was MUCH worse than getting a new playmate slash competition in the form of a brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the following years, there have been successive "worst days." High school breakups, Carolina's 8-20 basketball season, a horribly painful college breakup, 2 friends' deaths... all rank way above seeing the last day of my acrobatics career, and each in turn were the "worst day of my life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I got back from San Antonio after seeing my beloved Tar Heels collapse under the pressure of the Final Four and just hand the win to Kansas. It felt like a "worst day."  But after Jason's death only a year ago and Eve's death just a month ago, I'm able to see a little bit more clearly why this wasn't the worst day of my life (so far).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Heels will take the court again. They'll lose again. I will feel dead inside for a short period; Roy will tear up again; the team may embarrass themselves again.  But we'll cut down other nets; Adam Lucas will write an article that pretty much sums up the whole Tar Heel Nation's ecstasy; Carolina will be #1 again. And to think-- I got to go to the Final Four! I stayed in the team hotel, met Alex Stepheson's father, ate lunch across from Mr Hansbrough, and rode the elevator with Coach Williams's wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ending of "Spamalot" features the whole company singing, "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life."  During the first rendition of the song, Patsy and King Arthur are lost in a dark and very expensive forest. After my few years of experience and watching my basketball team lose miserably and inexplicably, I agree with their summation of things: "Life's a piece of shit, when you look at it/Life's a laugh and death's a joke it's true/You'll see it's all a show-- keep 'em laughing as you go/Just remember that the last laugh is on you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... that is my charge to you. It may sound negative, but try to remember-- it could always be worse! (... And beginning to pay more attention to those around you and less attention to yourself is a great way to help put things in perspective. And for better or worse, nothing helps you forget your own pain than busying yourself helping somebody else...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-2902800518108015454?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/2902800518108015454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=2902800518108015454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/2902800518108015454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/2902800518108015454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/08/is-this-cheating.html' title='Is this Cheating?'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-2465647156473154954</id><published>2008-08-03T00:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T00:27:54.375-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>That Most Elusive of Simple Pleasures</title><content type='html'>No, I'm not going to talk about sex (don't know much about that anyway) or a new episode of The Office or the best piece of chocolate, or even seeing a really good live show in intimate venue where you know all the songs and then you get to chat with the band and buy a new t-shirt.  I'm referring to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like the times you need it most, you can't get it.  When I get a good sleep, I may still be tired the next day.  Other times, I barely sleep 6 hrs and I'm fine. WHY?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went to bed at about 11 and didn't set my alarm.  I figured I'd wake up around 6:30am like on a usual work day. But my body clock is so well tuned that it knows when I have a weekend. So I didn't even wake up until the sound of bass thumping below me at 10:30am filtered through my earplugs. Wonderful!  But now I'm awake after midnight for the first time in like three weeks. Kinda ridiculous how "grown-up" I am now. I go to bed early and get up early. Absurd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is so boring and pointless; I'm sorry for writing this and clogging the Internet. A few months ago, I read that the Internet will be completely stuffed full by 2012. Maybe it was earlier, like 2010. Idk. Needless to say, our governments need to invest in some infrastructure to keep this baby ticking. Or get rid of all the porn that's taking up like 80% of the space, not to mention destroying our families and the idea of the sacredness of sex. What a waste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're not planning on voting for Barack Obama in the fall, please read "The Audacity of Hope."  I only have two chapters left.  I wish people would listen to his own words in their context rather than listening to the media (those who hate him and those who worship him) or the ridiculously untrue emails and rumors circulated about him (http://my.barackobama.com/page/content/fightthesmearshome/). I have not been given one convincing reason not to vote for him, and in my reading of the news, his speeches, and his writings, I haven't found anything compelling that would justify me backing John McCain for president.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is bad. Obviously, I need to go to sleep if I'm starting to write about politics. But I'm really not that tired. I will be when my alarm goes off at 7:00 am though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday morning, my family is going to Alaska on a 10day cruise and then to northern California to see my cousin Brendan get married. Yay, I can't wait! But work will be absolutely insane when I get back. That's okay, I guess. I like being busy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-2465647156473154954?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/2465647156473154954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=2465647156473154954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/2465647156473154954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/2465647156473154954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/08/that-most-elusive-of-simple-pleasures.html' title='That Most Elusive of Simple Pleasures'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-5919999671833215756</id><published>2008-07-31T14:55:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T15:41:54.539-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>If Life is Always Spent Preparing, What Does That Mean About Death?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Okay, so maybe that title is a wee melodramatic.  Maybe that's because I'M pretty melodramatic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I was just contemplating how in every stage of life, I look ahead. What does this job mean for my resume?  If I sign this lease, what am I committing myself to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there are times of preparation. Almost everyone goes through 13 years of schooling and a lucky few of us get to study for longer. You pay your dues in internships and cubicles, earning next to nothing (and literally nothing, in some cases). Moses spent 40 years in the wilderness. Jacob ran away from home and worked for his father-in-law for 14 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think the time of preparation varies based on person and circumstance, but I'm impatient, and I do not want to prepare for 40 years before I get into "really living."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Summit was at the old building, I remember JD talking about 'times in the wilderness,' like Moses's or Daniel's.  Those are the times that life is quiet and rather dull and we are learning to "be faithful in the little things."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But maybe I'm completely wrong. Maybe even the times in the wilderness are part of "really living." Just because it ain't exciting doesn't mean it ain't good.  (That's a big statement for me-- I hate being bored, or even just being quiet.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I try to plan my weekend and see if there's anything I can do to fill up the empty hours, I need to remember my best memories from childhood are playing on the stairs with Shaun, building with the lincoln logs and setting up the plastic dinosaurs or playing Monopoly every day for weeks, watching "Muppet Treasure Island" over and over again ("the feast of saint lulu!" "Sweetums! Big fat baby eating O'Brien!"), and lying on the carpet reading "A Little Princess" and "The Secret Garden."  The simple things, the 'boring' times, the mundanity and banality of life. Growing up will never be finished, I daresay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I stop thinking about how I should be preparing, I bet the preparation will just happen, and whenever something monumental comes along, I'll be ready.  I won't even believe how it happened-- just so smoothly, as if Someone planned it-- but I'll be able to do whatever it is that comes along. Because, right now, I don't even know what I should be preparing for!  Should I prepare to be a wife or prepare to live as an old maid? Should I prepare for a professional career or for raising four children? Should I prepare to live abroad or settle down in my home state, where I've already lived for almost 20 of my 23.5 years?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, obviously, God's going to call the shots today that will make me into who I'm supposed to be tomorrow.  I think that idea goes along with the whole "don't worry about tomorrow" bit; that if I just sit back and relax, work on the Spiritual Disciplines and grow in contentment, peace, and security in my identity and my God, then everything will fall into place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matthew 6:33...Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.  -- the Living Translation.  First pursue God and everything closest to his heart, and then all your other concerns will resolve themselves  -- my paraphrase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I need to stop worrying about what I'm doing with my life.  To know God is the greatest thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-5919999671833215756?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/5919999671833215756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=5919999671833215756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5919999671833215756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5919999671833215756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/07/if-life-is-always-spent-preparing-what.html' title='If Life is Always Spent Preparing, What Does That Mean About Death?'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-1146924319709008756</id><published>2008-06-25T10:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T11:20:06.992-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><title type='text'>Dreams, Time Seams, and Adult Sports Teams</title><content type='html'>Last night, I dreamed that one of my homeowners' kitchen ceiling was going to cave in due to an attic HVAC leak that I didn't catch.  I'm working out again; maybe that will help me de-stress.  I'm also reading "Overcoming Fear, Worry, and Anxiety."  So if those two things don't help, I'm pretty much screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to bed late because I went to Chapel Hill to say goodbye to Rob. (Goodbye, Rob; have a good life!) It was fun, but I'm okay with my friends leaving. Amy is in DC, Deb is in Montana, Rob is in Colorado, Chad's in the mountains, Lauren's in India and then Concord, Erik and Nick are almost gone, Kate's in Boston. There are periods to life. "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven," Ecclesiastes 3:1. The writer expands, and then goes on an interesting rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;(What does that even mean?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil--this is the gift of God...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whatever is has already been, and what will be has been before; and God will call the past to account."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he's saying that we have time, and we have action, and &lt;em&gt;when&lt;/em&gt; we choose to do our actions has a lot to do with our judgement. God will judge the time in which we honor him. If that makes sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I have more time than I used to have. I'm not studying for anything; I'm getting paychecks for my 45 hrs/week at work; I'm paying off my loans and living comfortably. &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;(Bad news on that front: $900 of dental work is coming up...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can use the rest of my time. If I sleep no more than nine hours a night on weekends, I will have more free time. I'm going to try to volunteer with MATCH, get back into our small group, and play lacrosse again!  I'm really excited for that. It'll be expensive to get started... I think I'm going to buy a new stick, and I need goggles, insurance, a mouth guard, and team t-shirts. But it'll be worth it. After I quit UNC Club, I thought I'd never play again. It won't be the same as high school, and that's fine with me. But it'll be a team sport, one I really enjoy, and it'll be exercise that is not in our blah apartment gym.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-1146924319709008756?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/1146924319709008756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=1146924319709008756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1146924319709008756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1146924319709008756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/06/dreams-time-seams-and-adult-sports.html' title='Dreams, Time Seams, and Adult Sports Teams'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-499283829289629847</id><published>2008-06-15T21:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T21:38:39.132-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jason'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>Cynicism, Rebellion, and Why UNC Really Is the Southern Part of Heaven</title><content type='html'>That is quite a blog title to live up to. So here goes.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The people who are closest to me often ask how I am doing, and I know they mean more than the usual, casual inquiry.  There is something to their tone, or their punctuation (via the internet), or their look, that signifies a deeper questioning.  I've been pretty open with my struggles lately... with anger at my God and frustration with my spiritual funk, my impatience and heartache and just plain old-fashioned pain.  It started with Jason's death (not the breakup) and has been complicated with my emotional roller coaster (over the breakup + his death) and my job switching and then Eve's death. A year and three months later, I'm sick of feeling like this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday, Mom said I seem subdued. I am. I'm 'sweetly broken;' I'm tired of the rebellion and the cynicism. I'm tired of giving God the silent treatment/cold shoulder; tired of looking at him as if he's out to get me or as if there is just one tragedy after another waiting for me. I'm rebellious in nature, but always a rather half-hearted rebel. I forget to be mad at my friends and family, and I get tired of rebelling against my good, kind God. The writer of Lamentations in chapter three talks about how he's been pushed around and hurt... he says God "has driven me away and made me walk in darkness rather than light." Talk about pointing fingers. He knows who to blame, just like I do. (Nichole's words on it... "Funny how the fog rolls/funnier that I'd know who to blame/never thought I'd have to own this pain... If all that's good and true/comes from heaven/then what's a girl to do/when it rains?")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chapter three goes on and on, the writer blaming God for his pain... "he dragged me from the path and mangled me and left me without help. He pierced my heart with arrows from his quiver."  Pretty violent, eh?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then there's a transition.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore have &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt;: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;new every morning&lt;/span&gt;; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my portion; therefore I will &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;wait&lt;/span&gt; for him.'"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some translations end the verse, "I will hope in him."  Funny how they go together... like the Spanish verb esperar means to wait and to hope. Waiting and hoping go hand-in-hand. We don't sit and wait on God despondently.  But that's what I've been doing. I've been somewhat obedient... going where he wants, not giving up on the fellowship of the saints or my faith in general. But as far as specifics go, I've been pretty despairing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And it's really easy for me to slip into cynicism.  That's why, as a kid, I would try to convince myself that UNC would lose whatever game we were playing, so that if we did lose, I would be 'protected' from disappointment.  That's what Jason used to try to pound into me-- that if I had no expectations, I would never be disappointed. (He didn't want me to expect anything of him.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, my circumstances were messy, and I rebelled. I was angry and sullen. And then my rebellion started to turn into a bitterness, and that bitterness has shown up in cynicism. I question God's goodness and his love towards me. I don't feel his love so I decide he doesn't love me after all. Isn't he in control of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;?! I believe that. But that doesn't mean he enjoys hurting me, just like parents don't enjoy their kids' intense unhappiness at getting immunizations.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The chapter goes on to say, "Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jesus put it well. "I have told you these things, so that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;in me&lt;/span&gt; you may have peace. In this world you &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (That's John 16:33.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's enough for now. Suffice it to say, my understanding of God is a heckuva lot greater than it was fifteen months ago.  I'll write about UNC being like heaven later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-499283829289629847?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/499283829289629847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=499283829289629847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/499283829289629847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/499283829289629847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/06/cynicism-rebellion-and-why-unc-really.html' title='Cynicism, Rebellion, and Why UNC Really Is the Southern Part of Heaven'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-6654266680857927073</id><published>2008-05-29T21:04:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T21:48:34.995-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><title type='text'>This is Rather Pathetic</title><content type='html'>So, no post because I've been busy.  It's a busyness of the self-inflicted kind.  And I haven't thought of much to write.  Actually, that's not true... I've thought of some things but I haven't taken the time to expound.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had to tell Janell Wright I couldn't hang out with her tonight because I'm getting sick.  I had my first migraine on Thursday (due to some Wednesday events, I think), travelled to Florida that evening, spent a rather stressful long weekend with relatives, went to a beautiful wedding and reception for Emily and Perry, and then back to a busy week at work. (Wow, I just wrote 'school' instead of 'work.' Ironic.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm watching "Ice Age 2" and I think a baby mammoth is pretty much the cutest animated thing I've ever seen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm looking forward to my new project-- getting some of my friends who've been through a one or a couple crazy years to write about this time of transition.  We're twentysomethings; we're privileged, educated, intelligent, and motivated but hard to please. I want us all to look at where we are at this moment, in this in-betweeny stage, and take stock. We spend so much time reflecting on the past and learning from our experiences, which is good-- don't get me wrong.  But I want to do more than look behind, and I want to do more than look ahead at what's next.  That's probably even more tempting: to always be dwelling on the future and never appreciating the Now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;CS Lewis said that's where eternity meets us-- in the present.  We are impotent to change the past and we are wasting what Time we have by anticipating what's next. So, I want us all to look at our Now. Where are we, and why?  What are we headed towards and are we doing what we need to do to get there?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel like I'm in a pathetic state at the moment only because I'm sick, overtired, and haven't been able to work out since Sunday. My last free night was May 2 and I won't have another until June 7, most likely. I'm not doing a good job of balancing my life, but I just hate being bored. And life is crazy and things have happened and are happening which stress me out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But... I'm excited for this project.  I'm excited to see what everyone has to say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I haven't talked to you about it yet (I'm trying to talk to everybody individually) and you'd be willing to write me something, please let me know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-6654266680857927073?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/6654266680857927073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=6654266680857927073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6654266680857927073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6654266680857927073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/05/this-is-rather-pathetic.html' title='This is Rather Pathetic'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-3112857987709003400</id><published>2008-04-23T16:16:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T15:07:00.924-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jason'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>...One Year Later...</title><content type='html'>A serendipitous discovery this afternoon-- I started my blog one year ago today. Obviously, I haven't written very often in said year, but I think I can see a distinct evolution over the 366 (leap year!) days since April 23, 2007. I'm also getting more regular in my public self-discovery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing a blog this year has been a way to compose my thoughts and questions, to formalize some part of what I journal every few days. (I have 14 journals to date, which hopefully no one other than myself will ever read.) Growing up is such a monumental pain in the ass that maybe documenting it will be somewhat enlightening/entertaining/educational.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still trying to figure myself out, as well as whatever this "adult" life is about. I have started two new jobs in two new cities with two new roommates, one rather white-collar and one rather blue-collar (the jobs, not the roommates). I do feel more daily joy than I did 12 months ago and I think about Jason every hour or so rather than every 10 minutes. But I've lost another dear friend and dealing with death is a more common occupation than I had ever imagined it would be at this age. My customers think of me as a kid... Probably because I still look like one. And this uniform get-up doesn't help much either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Jason's grave in Kentucky last weekend with Tiffany, Becca, and his parents. It was a strange combination of frustrating and satisfying. Satisfying because I finally got to see where he went at least twice a year with his parents, and where his parents grew up, and where he stayed over Christmases when we'd talk on the phone. I now understand a lot that I didn't. Frustrating because I went to a beautiful cemetery on top of a green hill with a blue sky &amp;amp; puffy clouds above in the charming countryside and farmland of Kentucky... and Jason wasn't there. I'm glad his body is there; when Jesus comes to establish his rule on this earth, that's the first thing Jason will see when he's resurrected... unless he comes in the clouds with Jesus, and I'm not 100% sure what it will really look like. But anyway. I think he'd be glad to be buried there. There are all these stones at the cemetery that say, "If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd go right up to heaven and bring you back again." I wouldn't. I'd stay there with him. If I died and somebody came up and said, "I'm taking you back to earth, let's go." I'd say, "Piss off. I'm having a great time right here; thanks. Ain't no way I want to go back there, you kidding me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do like that they have "Decoration" on Memorial Day weekend. The families of the people buried there all come with picnics and decorate all the gravestones of their loved ones and their long-gone family. It's a Southern dia de los muertos... the remnant of the small-town Americana community. Mrs Ray said that if anybody has family left, their grave is decorated. I think that's awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about that. For now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday (yesterday), Tiffany ~ Hi, Jeremy ~ Welcome, little Levi Daniel ~ I miss you, Lauren ~ Can't wait to see you, Amy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over and out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-3112857987709003400?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/3112857987709003400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=3112857987709003400' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3112857987709003400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3112857987709003400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/04/one-year-later.html' title='...One Year Later...'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-1216094639196413246</id><published>2008-04-17T17:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T17:41:49.212-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><title type='text'>Weird Sleep Hypothetical Question That I Just Thought Of</title><content type='html'>Ok, so a wizard comes to you and says, "You can choose how long you will be in this magical sleep.  When you wake up, you will not &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; to sleep for those hours that you slept magically until you use them all up. For example, if you sleep for four hours, those four hours will count towards your need for four hours' worth of sleep at another point in the future.  You can choose when to use those hours. If you slept for twenty years, you'd have twenty years of sleep stored up. But, when you awake, time will have passed normally, and you will miss whatever happened while you were sleeping. Also, your life will be the same number of years including your magical sleep. (If you were to sleep from 23 to 25 and you were going to die at 73, you still will-- you won't live to 75.)"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How long would you sleep?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-1216094639196413246?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/1216094639196413246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=1216094639196413246' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1216094639196413246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1216094639196413246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/04/weird-sleep-hypothetical-question-that.html' title='Weird Sleep Hypothetical Question That I Just Thought Of'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-3312037031365627960</id><published>2008-04-13T11:35:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T11:38:27.545-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sabbath'/><title type='text'>I'm not where I should be, in more ways than one</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;sometimes somebody else has already said what i want to...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;oh for a heart that doesn't heartache&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;and for a backbone that won't break&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;for some steady feet and sturdy ground&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;a road that isn't going to let me turn around and around&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;for a thousand tongues to sing&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;to wear wisdom like Solomon's robe&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;for the patience and perspective of a man like Job&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;just to soar on wings of eagles for no other reason&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;than the bird's eye view or a flight or two&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;and the list gets longer: who i wish i was and was no longer&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;i never could be good enough to measure up&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;but you want to take me as i come&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;you're the only that can&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;take me as i am&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;oh to feel hope in hopeless times&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;never mind the silver lining cause the clouds are fine&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;to breathe prayers that move the heavens or save hundreds from the flames&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;to know my place, to know my name&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;but the gap grows wider between who i am and all i aspire to be&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;i never could be good enough to measure up&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;but you want to take me as i come&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;you're the only one that can&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;take me as i am&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;at the end of myself at the end of the day&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;i can find little else but the courage to say&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;i need you, that's all&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;i need you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;-nichole nordeman&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;i.e. best songwriter since david&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-3312037031365627960?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/3312037031365627960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=3312037031365627960' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3312037031365627960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3312037031365627960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-not-where-i-should-be-in-more-ways.html' title='I&apos;m not where I should be, in more ways than one'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-5109166437936188195</id><published>2008-04-11T16:54:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T17:04:57.886-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Mars, Venus, birds, bees, etc.</title><content type='html'>I don't agree with many of Kurt Vonnegut's sentiments expressed in the introduction to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;God Bless You, Mr. Kevorkian&lt;/span&gt;, but I found the following segment of said introduction very interesting/amusing, and actually profound in its simplicity. I hope you do as well.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"OK, now let's have some fun. Let's talk about sex. Let's talk about women. Freud said he didn't know what women wanted. I know what women want.  They want a whole lot of people to talk to. What do they want to talk about? They want to talk about everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"What do men want? They want a lot of pals, and they wish people wouldn't get so mad at them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Why are so many people getting divorced today? It's because most of us don't have extended families anymore. It used to be that when a man and a woman got married, the bride got a lot more people to talk to about everything. The groom got a lot more pals to tell dumb jokes to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"A few Americans, but very few, still have extended families. The Navahos. The Kennedys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"But most of us, if we get married nowadays, are just one more person for the other person. The groom gets one more pal, but it's a woman. The woman gets one more person to talk to about everything, but it's a man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"When a couple has an argument, they may think it's about money or power or sex, or how to raise the kids, or whatever. What they're really saying to each other, though, without realizing it, is this:  'You are not enough people!'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I met a man in Nigeria one time, an Ibo who had six hundred relatives he knew quite well.  His wife had just had a baby, the best possible news in any extended family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"They were going to take it to meet all its relatives, Ibos of all ages and sizes and shapes. It would even meet other babies, cousins not much older than it was. Everybody who was big enough and steady enough was going to get to hold it, cuddle it, gurgle to it, and say how pretty it was, or handsome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Wouldn't you have loved to be that baby?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We throw around the word and concept of "community" constantly. It's a pretty common need for humanity. That's all. I liked the passage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-5109166437936188195?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/5109166437936188195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=5109166437936188195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5109166437936188195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5109166437936188195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/04/mars-venus-birds-bees-etc.html' title='Mars, Venus, birds, bees, etc.'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-8742014876483124409</id><published>2008-03-24T18:47:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T20:37:42.169-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>The Commercialization of Entertainment and the Entertainment Value of Commercials.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I haven't blogged for a few weeks because I've been thinking; sorry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It's hard to imagine a culture without commercials or an advertising industry. It would be so unlike our own... And our economy would certainly be even weaker than it is currently without the industry. Advertising is technically a form of communication and a source of information regarding products and services, but its effectiveness and viability has (thankfully!) become dependent on the entertainment value of the marketing piece.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'm watching a commercial with a piece of toast.  Bud Light has created a hilarious commercial utilizing the f word. (http://youtube.com/watch?v=EJJL5dxgVaM) There are serious commercials with a twist (Allstate insurance), annoyingly loud commercials that stick in your head (car dealerships... except the President's Day sale commercial that honored Millard Fillmore... that was funny), and funny commercials that spin out of control (Quizno's spongemonkeys, the Geico cavemen and gecko).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Noticed how commercials' soundtracks can jumpstart an artist's career?  Sara Bareilles is definitely the most recent, but even the Colbie Caillat song and Feist's "1234" were at the same time. Maroon 5 got their start on a commercial. And I know I love any commercial with a Beatles or Simon &amp;amp; Garfunkel song. I really believe that British commercials are WAY funnier than ours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Anyway, all I'm saying here is that our commercials are effective based on their entertainment value. I have no real opinion about this state of affairs; I'm just commenting on the fact that our ability to succeed in sales is often dependent on our ability to make somebody laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Funny too how commercialized our entertainment is... Not just the Hollywood or Disney machines that crank out blockbusters and pop stars, but also the NBA that saps up our young talent and the WWF and NFL and other professional sports leagues. We have ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN Classic, ESPNU, and others. Now, I'm not knocking those channels and media conglomerations-- I adore SportsCenter. But independent thought is rarely found in today's entertainment, save the occasional low-budget hit or creative cult classic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I do have an opinion about this -- I think it's sad, but I don't really see any other way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-8742014876483124409?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/8742014876483124409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=8742014876483124409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/8742014876483124409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/8742014876483124409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/03/commercialization-of-entertainment-and.html' title='The Commercialization of Entertainment and the Entertainment Value of Commercials.'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-7887089315517017182</id><published>2008-03-10T20:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T20:52:27.697-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jason'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>Only the good die young...</title><content type='html'>Early Wednesday morning, March 5, 2008, my friend Eve, a UNC senior, was shot to death in a quiet Chapel Hill neighborhood.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On March 23rd, 2007, my ex-boyfriend, Jason Ray, a UNC senior, was hit by a car being driven by a driver with a suspended license, and died three days later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a lot to take in; a lot to digest.  Jason and I were friends since August 2003 and spent three years in a relationship.  Eve and I and 12 other UNC students spent four months living in El Costillar de Rocinante residencia in La Habana, Cuba.  Their lives and deaths had many similarities... Both were larger-than-life, gregarious personalities; both were late a LOT. =) I loved them both, and I know they loved me.  Their deaths captured the nation's attention and was covered by major media networks. Both loved life and milked every last second of joy out of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The tragedy is in the loss of life, but it's even more stark because of how much we as humans have lost in those two souls.  Eve would have changed the world; I'm convinced of it. She was amazing.  So friendly, passionate, sympathetic, beautiful, intelligent, and fun. She cared for others and loved the student body.  She was a wonderful UNC Student Body president, even though it was such a hard, tiring job.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even though I didn't see her as often after we left Cuba, she periodically wrote on my wall that she was thinking of me. She cried with me when Jason died and gave me letters that had been sent to her (as SBP) from strangers. Eve had more friends than anybody I've ever known, because she loved people so incredibly much and made you feel that your problems were her problems and your joys were hers. She knew what it was to "rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep." And she didn't waste a second of the short time she had.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Makes you wonder if people like Jason and Eve, who cram so much life into 21 or 22 years, kind of know that they don't have much time. They definitely acted at times like it was their last day on earth. I'm glad for that, even though I told them both they needed to slow down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't question that God knows what he's doing, but I wish I knew what it was. I miss Jason so much, and now I miss Eve too. I saw her last month; we had a fun dinner with three other Cuba kids... I am so glad we got together as much as possible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It does put my life in perspective. I might be next. The thought that my friends are going to continue to die at this rate is a fear I don't need to entertain, but it does creep up from time to time. Life is not certain... I may have to see my future husband and kids die. My parents will die, my brothers will die; we'll all die eventually.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thank God for the life and death of Jesus Christ, through whom we can approach the throne of grace with confidence in the time of need.  I can think of no other need than when I stand, in my moral filthiness (who among us really understands how awful of a person we are?), in front of God when I die! And at that moment, my only plea will be the name and person of Jesus Christ. He died so I can have eternal life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know my God made a way for me/Salvation is here!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I see the King of glory/coming on the clouds with fire/the whole earth shakes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I see His love and mercy/washing over all our sin/the people sing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hosanna in the highest!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I see a generation/rising up to take their place/with selfless faith&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I see a near revival/stirring as we pray and seek/we're on our knees&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hosanna in the highest!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;may we be a generation that seeks your face, oh God of Jacob.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are not immortal, however much we feel as such.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-7887089315517017182?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/7887089315517017182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=7887089315517017182' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/7887089315517017182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/7887089315517017182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/03/only-good-die-young.html' title='Only the good die young...'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-3096733952912535505</id><published>2008-03-04T17:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T17:39:26.439-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Newbie!"</title><content type='html'>I'm used to being in new situations; I think I'm pretty good at adapting to a new environment.  I've even been accused of being addicted to change. Even though I don't &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; having my world constantly turned upside down, it's true that I am slightly ADD... just to the point of being very easily bored. (My poor mother had to tell me to stop calling her every time I was bored at my last job... that was the final straw-- I quit and found a better fit.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first run-in with being the 'new girl' was in 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade. I had been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;homeschooled&lt;/span&gt; and my primary playmates were my younger brother, his friends, and Meagan. I began school in November or December, I believe; right about the time Gabe was born. Sixth grade, I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;homeschooled&lt;/span&gt;; seventh-- Charter school for the fall and home for the spring.  Eighth grade was split between &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Woodlawn&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Wayzata&lt;/span&gt; Central. Ninth was The Blake School, tenth was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Wayzata&lt;/span&gt; High, eleventh and twelfth were East Chapel Hill High. Needless to say, by the time I went to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;UNC&lt;/span&gt;, attending one school for four years was beyond my wildest dream! And I loved it.... I met my best friends and my 'college boyfriend' more or less immediately.  A few people came and went but the core of my experience was constant for those four challenging, fun years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Jason died and graduation, I shipped out... I was the 'new girl' for a few weeks at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;TPT&lt;/span&gt;, but with turnover the way it is there, that didn't last long.  But after only seven months, I left again... and I've been at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Pulte&lt;/span&gt; just over a month, but I'm the 'new girl.'  I still don't know &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;everyone's&lt;/span&gt; names; I haven't been out on my own; I feel like I have very little to contribute.  But I know the expectations for me are high, and I know I can exceed them.  I have the work ethic and the skills to succeed here as long as I choose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get tired of being the new girl, but it's always stretching, and everything that stretches me prepares me for the challenges that lie ahead. A gymnast stretches for months to be flexible enough to perform their crazy stunts. I may have some crazy ass stunts ahead, and I want to be flexible, experienced, and confident enough to take them on with the boldness of a strong woman of God who has been blessed with a unique and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;privileged&lt;/span&gt; calling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just noticing it more right now because I'm on a work retreat where many have been working together for several years. But how am I going to become friends with these people unless I attend these kinds of outings? =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish we could have gone bowling though! I've gotten addicted after going Super Bowling and for Chad's birthday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-3096733952912535505?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/3096733952912535505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=3096733952912535505' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3096733952912535505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3096733952912535505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/03/newbie.html' title='&quot;Newbie!&quot;'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-2096693630960139814</id><published>2008-03-02T21:35:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T20:38:32.096-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>True Identity</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;JD talked about Jesus's trial and death this morning.  He talked about how Christians chose an odd symbol (an object of torture, no less!) to be the rallying point of our faith, and why.  He said many use the cross to induce guilt, or they feel guilt when they think of the cross.  The other side of the coin is that we often think the cross was simply an example of God's love for us. (JD counters: why would you allow yourself to be killed to show somebody you loved them?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Aside: last week's talk was amazing. Stop-what-you're-doing-and-listen-now amazing. Never again will I read the Garden of Gethsemene story in the same way.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In reality, the cross shows the gruesomeness, the true horror of our sin.  That's what we deserved; that's how disgusting our sin is to God. We don't like thinking of that.  But Jesus had to die exactly in that way to work salvation for all people, and his death was totally sufficient! Nothing more is needed from us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Louie Giglio spoke at Passion 05 about our identity as Saved Ex-Sinners.  He said we often sit in this "woe is me, wretched sinner that I am!" I was astounded when he charged us to think of ourselves as saints already, rather than sinners... "you big bunch of saints!! stop sinning, and believing the lie that anything is better than Jesus."  For crying out loud, the "same power is in us that raised Christ Jesus from the grave." The power of the Creator of All Things!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then at Passion 07, John Piper spoke about committing sin, repenting, and then denying the evil one's lies that we are useless to God because of our failure. Our failure changes nothing about who God is and who we are and it certainly does not mean that we are useless.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Second aside: I find it fascinating how God chooses to use our starkest failings or shortcomings as the canvas for His most glorious artworks. (Isaiah's unclean lips, Moses's stutter, Jacob's faithlessness &amp;amp; dishonesty, Abraham's age, Mary's virginity, Hannah's barrenness...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All three of those speakers have given me something.  From JD, I am again convinced that my identity is Redeemed, "not of my own striving" but only of His doing.  From Louie, I can see myself as already considered Holy, thanks to the imputation of Jesus's life and death to my account. God sees me as He sees Jesus. That in and of itself is beyond comprehension. (I like to comprehend things; I don't like this unfamiliar Impossible.) And from Pastor John, I am empowered to serve the God whom I have offended countless times but who has continued to love and bless me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because I have sinned against him, I will bear the Lord's wrath,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;until He pleads my case and establishes my right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He will bring me out into the light; I will see His righteousness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Micah 7:8-9&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-2096693630960139814?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/2096693630960139814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=2096693630960139814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/2096693630960139814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/2096693630960139814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/03/true-identity.html' title='True Identity'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-1123329176510854418</id><published>2008-02-22T16:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T16:15:32.772-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cars'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>My next car</title><content type='html'>My next car will hopefully be new, because I will drive the one I have in all of its 1997 beige glory for about 5 more years until they produce...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(drum roll please)... the hybrid convertible!!! I really want a convertible, and I want it to be a hybrid because I love the planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five years from now will be 2013.  I will be 28 years old and hopefully own a home and have paid off all my loans. I will be semi-grown-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What has been happening in my life?  I hurt my back but I feel better. I'm going to start working out again on Monday because I am FAT!! And because I miss working out... I feel kinda lackadaisical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an interesting thought two days ago and then talked to Ellen about it.  See, I know myself pretty well, and I realized that I am not the kind of person that would ever care about spiritual things.  It's not "me."  I'm not into churchy stuff, or rules, or thinking about anybody other than myself.  I'm self-centered, prideful, and snobby.  I'm generally not a very nice person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why then do I care?  Why do I pray and read and journal and sing praises and go to church when I'm by myself? It's so God.  I'm not like my brother; I'm really not a religious person.  I wouldn't care what God thinks; I remember back when I didn't.  I remember that rebellion and hard-heartedness and conscience-ignoring that was my inner spirit when I was 14.  When God changes somebody, he does so from the inside.  And so more and more, over the past nine years, that inside change is (hopefully) showing up on the outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so cliche, but it really is being born again. Being changed beyond recognition.  Being so different that when I look back on my natural tendencies, I can't even believe he's brought me so far.  And the funny thing is that it moves so slowly, I sometimes think this is who I naturally am, and that leads to more pride, when in reality it's such a reason for gratefulness!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-1123329176510854418?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/1123329176510854418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=1123329176510854418' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1123329176510854418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1123329176510854418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-next-car.html' title='My next car'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-6473917085234722438</id><published>2008-02-04T19:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T20:40:17.368-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>I really am happy...</title><content type='html'>...but it's just hard sometimes when the tables are turned. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;anyway, enough self-pity.  i love my friends and i have them nearer than ever (at least geographically, if not otherwise) in the past eight months. and that's a blessing unlike any other.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i'm 23; i have a great apartment with an even greater roommate. i'm in a new place with plenty to discover, with my home just 30 minutes down the road, and with most of my best friends very close by as well. i miss those that are gone (Austin, Boston, India!!) like crazy though. sucks. weird too that my high school friends are all gone (except Ellen, of course). but i've made new friends, even recently.  eventually i should meet people around here, rather than just in Chapel Hill, though.  that'll probably have to be through church.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;even better though-- this is where i'm supposed to be. i'm taking it a day at a time, because eternity meets me here, in this moment. i'm anxious to see what's next. i wish i could say "eager" or "excited," but it feels more like anxiety. that's not godly or God-honoring, i know. i wish i could automatically put into action what i know i want to be/do. kinda like paul... "that which i want to do, i don't do... but what i hate, i do! what is this contradiction in myself!" not to mention that this whole figuring-out-who-i-am is a bitch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;all that to say, i'm overtired from a very social but very fun weekend, and i'm feelings sulky and overdramatic and i'm going to bed way early tonight and tomorrow i'm going to work out b/c i need some freaking endorphins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;oh, and i'm old.  my mom was my age (+8 months) when she got married.  her mom had been married for 6 years when she was my age.  not to say i wish i were married (i don't-- first things first-- get a boyfriend), but it just makes me feel a wee aged.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;kelly dalton (sweetheart that she is!) got me the sara bareilles cd for my birthday. "love on the rocks" is a jam. just a little fyi. (haha- just read that iTunes Store agrees with me... "Perhaps the best and most original track is the ultra-peppy (think "Benny and the Jets") "Love on the Rocks...") i also like "vegas" and "morningside" and "city."  it's a great cd.  thanks, kelly!! (although "between the lines" hits a little too close to the chest...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;tomorrow is tuesday. ICK!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-6473917085234722438?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/6473917085234722438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=6473917085234722438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6473917085234722438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6473917085234722438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-really-am-happy.html' title='I really am happy...'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-5722654381885488950</id><published>2008-01-27T17:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T18:18:15.722-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>Welcome Home to Me! and notes on believing</title><content type='html'>Driving home on Friday night, back to NC from DC after my last day of work, I knew this was the right decision.  There's definitely something nice about knowing you're doing the right thing. =) I'm so glad to be home!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been pretty overwhelmed... almost had a heart attack on Fri night when I stopped for dinner and couldn't find my wallet anywhere. (I only had 1/4 tank left and was 1 1/2 hrs down the road.) Turns out, it was under my suitcase in the trunk. AND I thought I'd lost my cell phone but it was in my pocket. Ha. But everything got finished eventually; I have cable and a beautiful tv and all my bedroom furniture and I didn't sleep much last night but I'll be in bed early and my first day of work doesn't start til 9am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My 7 months in DC was so good for me. Kinda like a hospital for my soul... the ICU, more like. I should spend more time thinking about it, but I have been able to realize a few things.  Talking to Becca about it was key, as always... I had a great learning period about how I need to learn to be quiet because I fill my life so much with people and fun and community, but I need to be still, especially when going through healing.  God took me to a big city to teach me to be quiet. How important it is for me to learn to believe (I believe with my head but not with my heart-- "Lord, help my unbelief!") that the only thing that matters is knowing God as revealed in Jesus, the Messiah. If I really understood that truth, it'd be phenomenal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Summit was really, really good today. JD talked about abiding, about praying according to his will, about really believing God when he said he'll give us anything we ask if we are looking to him for our desires.  God, how I want you to fulfill me through your sufficiency! He asked us to write down two or three areas where we want to see God's power. I couldn't believe how easy it was to pin down those areas, and how emotional I got when I realized that God does want to display that HE is the true God, in my life and through those areas.  What a powerful truth.  It's all been about how he wants to be acknowledged as the only true God, to the end of our happiness and his supremacy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Spreading a passion for the supremacy of God in all things for the joy of all peoples..."  May that be my life mission and all my success.  What a far way I have to go-- but that's where God's glory shines brightest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-5722654381885488950?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/5722654381885488950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=5722654381885488950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5722654381885488950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5722654381885488950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/01/welcome-home-to-me-and-notes-on.html' title='Welcome Home to Me! and notes on believing'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-1912291095129218866</id><published>2008-01-21T17:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T17:11:35.268-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>"Embracing Accusation" by Shane and Shane</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Their new cd isn't the best ever... there are a few songs I just skip over, but this song is amazing.  In classic S&amp;amp;S style, the music and harmonies are soaring and the crescendo lifts you up and the profound lyrics get to the core of the miracle that is grace... how often do I lose the wonder of this simple Truth...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;the father of lies coming to steal, kill and destroy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;all my hopes of being good enough/i hear him saying, "cursed are the ones who can't abide"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;he's right, hallelujah, he's right!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;the devil is preaching the song of the redeemed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;that I am cursed and gone astray/i cannot gain salvation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;...embracing accusation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;could the father of lies be telling the truth of God to me tonight?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;that if the penalty of sin is death, then death is mine?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i hear him saying, "cursed are the ones who can't abide."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;he's right, hallelujah, he's right!&lt;br /&gt;the devil is preaching the song of the redeemed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;the devil's singing over me an age old song&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;that I am cursed and gone astray/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;that i cannot gain salvation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;singing the first verse so conveniently over me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;he's forgotten the refrain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jesus saves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(he's redeemed us from the curse of the law)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So, go download it on iTunes.  Other good songs are, from church, "Sweetly Broken" by Jeremy Riddle and "Song of Hope (Heaven Come Down)" by Robbie Seay Band.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-1912291095129218866?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/1912291095129218866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=1912291095129218866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1912291095129218866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1912291095129218866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/01/embracing-accusation-by-shane-and-shane.html' title='&quot;Embracing Accusation&quot; by Shane and Shane'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-6151659635296574518</id><published>2008-01-16T16:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T17:20:24.920-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>On second thought, let's not go to Camelot. It is a silly place.</title><content type='html'>Life is often silly, and that's how I like it.  That's why I loved to read about Anne Shirley and Nancy Drew and Kitty &amp;amp; Lydia Bennet and Betsy/Tacy and so many other girls when I was wee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys are silly too.  I love this story not because I was being hit on (although that is never bad for the Ego), but because it just shows how silly some people are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beth Allen, her roommate, and I were closing our tabs at TopO on Saturday night.  Beth was being the heroine and getting our cards, and I could tell the group of about eight thirty-somethings were talking about me.  The closest leans over and, indicating a young man near us, says, "So is that the new style here?"  "What?"  "You know, the three-piece suit."  I look over at the guy, look back at him, and say, "He's going to a dress for success party."  "What's that?" "I don't know." "But you just said that's where he's going." "He told me." "Oh, so he was hitting on you already?" (Mistake 1-- admitting he's hitting on me and he's prolly not the first one tonight.) "No, he's my friend." (Mistake 2-- trying to hit on me by making fun of a friend.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He valiently tries to recover, as his friend joins the conversation. "So, are you not going? You look dressed for success." Friend: "Yeah, you look successful!" Janel: "I don't think jeans would cut it." Friend: "The only thing you'd be successful at is being a &lt;em&gt;model&lt;/em&gt;." (Mistake 3: Pretty obvious. Who &lt;em&gt;says&lt;/em&gt; that?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is perfect.  The lamest thing to say to somebody.  I wasn't interested to begin with, and this sealed all their fates, but it did pique my wit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Janel: "Oh, really? That's ALL I'd be successful at, is it? Just a model. That's all I could do."&lt;br /&gt;Lame Friend of First Guy: "I mean, I've never talked to you before... I don't know if you're smart or not..."&lt;br /&gt;Janel: "Well, I just now spoke to you and I can already tell &lt;em&gt;you're&lt;/em&gt; not qualified to judge me on how intelligent I am."&lt;br /&gt;LFoFG: "Well, now that I've spoken to you I know you could be a rocket scientist or a nuclear physicist."&lt;br /&gt;(Props to him for correctly pronouncing physicist.)&lt;br /&gt;Janel: "Right."  And I turned back to the bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Guy tried to talk a little more ("What's your major?" ... already graduated... "International studies? You must be a good translator!") but Beth's roommate saved me, and they continued to make fools of themselves. ("She's tough-- are you that tough?" "I don't know; I just met her." "Oh, did she pick you up at the bar or did you pick her up?")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta love it. What on earth possessed them to continue?! Thankfully, this is not a nightly occurrence for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Bennet: "And what of your cousin, Mr Collins? As a connoisseur of human folly, I would have thought you eager to be savoring such delights."&lt;br /&gt;Elizabeth: "Of such delights, sir, I believe a little goes a long way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'm moving to Morrisville and Ellen and I are signing our new lease! (The aforementioned "big things to come." =) )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-6151659635296574518?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/6151659635296574518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=6151659635296574518' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6151659635296574518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6151659635296574518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/01/on-second-thought-lets-not-go-to.html' title='On second thought, let&apos;s not go to Camelot. It is a silly place.'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-2681123977856455820</id><published>2008-01-10T18:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T07:49:46.976-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Janel's Guide to...</title><content type='html'>...Dealing with difficult people or situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step 1. Listen to your mother.&lt;br /&gt;Step 2. Humble yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In so doing, you will heap fiery coals on their heads. And you will clear the air so you can sleep peacefully. He gives his beloved rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot to learn in this life.  I just pray that God lets me keep my parents for as long as possible because he knows I would make an even further f-up of my life than I already am doing if they were not here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I confuse my honor or my dignity with my pride?  How do I keep the first and lose the second? Maybe it has something to do with letting God defend me, trusting him for my vindication, and putting down my sword.  When it comes to dealing with eternal souls, I cannot be too careful. My actions have supernatural repercussions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus said in Luke that we are to give to whomever asks us.  I assumed that was referring to homeless people; how narrow-minded I can be! And to think that he can provide for everybody-- he told me that only so that &lt;em&gt;I &lt;/em&gt;would benefit, not the one who asks me. We are to give because, in God's economy, we are blessed through our giving.  Are you asking for blessing? Do your part and give, and God will fulfill his end of the bargain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents gave a huge percentage of their income this year.  And Dad's job-on-the-side with the Kansas City Royals replenished that exact percentage back into the family income. What better testimony do you need? He is faithful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-2681123977856455820?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/2681123977856455820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=2681123977856455820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/2681123977856455820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/2681123977856455820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/01/janels-guide-to.html' title='Janel&apos;s Guide to...'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-4391358927654176880</id><published>2008-01-04T13:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T13:42:13.297-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Kim!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Happy birthday to my one loyal blog reader!!! =) Kim Davidson, I love you! Thanks for the food, the fun, the love, the Bible studies, the advice, the listening ear, the phone calls, the book /movies/music recommendations, the prayer, the camaraderie, and the sympathy. You are the salt of the earth, the virtuous woman, the woman after God's heart, the kind of person I want to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have a great time in North Carolina and I really hope I can see you soon. Miss you tons.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;P.S. if I happen to have any OTHER readers (doubt it!), check her out at &lt;a href="http://thoughtsontheword.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://thoughtsontheword.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-4391358927654176880?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/4391358927654176880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=4391358927654176880' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4391358927654176880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4391358927654176880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-birthday-kim.html' title='Happy Birthday, Kim!'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-1258176743053947173</id><published>2008-01-02T22:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T22:38:00.284-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jason'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><title type='text'>Time: not the magazine, the cereal, or the boardgame (although I like all 3)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:Times;"&gt;&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;So, I've been thinking about living inside Time.  We're on this straight line (a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;timeline&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; if you will), and we can't see the Future but we obsess over it, and we can't change the Past but we obsess over it, and we never care what we're doing with our Present.  CS Lewis said something along the lines of "The Present is where Eternity touches us."  In essence, we really control only what is happening now, in this very moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;There’s no power except in this second. I think it was in the Screwtape Letters; the devils tried to get people to focus only on the past (futile) or the future (equally futile, plus distressing and worrisome).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Now is when we establish patterns, when we practice consistency or, to use a Christian word, faithfulness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Why is consistency and reliability such an emphasis in society?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Because we live in time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Something has to be done over and over to be established, permanent, or trustworthy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;We’ll be known by our fruit, not that one time we did one good thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;One day is just that—only one day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;January 1 begins a year; December 31 ends it; those are just dates.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;But we view our lives as within hours within days within weeks… you get the picture. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It’s the only way we can handle it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;We compartmentalize our worlds and our lives into digestible units. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And so, I think that a new year allows me to draw a new mental breath and (at least psychologically) start afresh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And I, for one, know that I need that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;We all need a chance to wipe the slate clean and begin again… a new day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, but we are barely the same on Tuesday as on Monday. (I am especially unreliable on Tuesdays.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Now, I’m not good at “summing up” these blogs that are (not quite at all) as rambling as my thoughts… but I have yet another observation about our humanity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;We are horrible at realizing the most fundamental truths of our Selves’ settings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;We are in Time; we have only this Moment in which to act; we must not lose another second.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;In 2007, I lost the person who changed me more than any other, except perhaps my parents.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I don’t know whom I will lose next. Death is a part of life, and only now am I realizing what the Fall means.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I talked to Becca about that yesterday… losing innocence was one of the tragedies suffered by Adam and Eve, and it’s a tragedy I suffered last year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;On January 9, my heart was broken; on March 23, my world (temporarily, but no less powerfully) shattered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Father, thank You for not deserting me when I felt like deserting You.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;God is not good because life is good; God is good whether or not life is good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Sometimes life is good (thank You); sometimes life is not good (thank You).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;How am I going to live this one life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;For myself or for others?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;With regard for the brevity and fragility of human life, or with disdain for the children of God that are perishing around me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;(Why does my heart bleed for the poor but I am spiteful towards those around me? Why do we all hate hypocrisy and yet harbor it in our hearts?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It may be miles and miles/before the journey’s clear/there may be rivers, may be oceans of tears&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And the very hand that shields your eyes from understanding/is the hand that will be holding you for miles…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And one moment someone whispers “thank You”/just then, another voice cries “how could You?”/when Jesus, who sees us/he says I hear you/and I’m near you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;More on time later; it fascinates me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="  "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;   font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-1258176743053947173?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/1258176743053947173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=1258176743053947173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1258176743053947173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1258176743053947173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2008/01/time-not-magazine-cereal-or-boardgame.html' title='Time: not the magazine, the cereal, or the boardgame (although I like all 3)'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-5031633207992409181</id><published>2007-12-31T16:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-31T17:04:07.406-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><title type='text'>"The end of the year," or, "apathy."</title><content type='html'>Good riddance.  2007 is gone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, thank you all so very, very much!  I didn't deserve this; I'm stunned!  There were so many other better actors up for this.  I want to thank my God and my family for their love and support.  I couldn't have done it without You/you, and my hope is that it will all go down in history, but that my legacy will be more than this one year...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to a different train of thought... ("all aboard!")  Why is apathy so admired but passion is so attractive?  Is that just with regards to young people?  Why do I so often want to be passionate but can't manage it; why do I feel empty and bored, but in a malaise where I can't muster the energy to change?  It's not quite the "slough of despond;"  it's more like those Saturday mornings when I was a kid and would watch 3 hours of cartoons and then was good for nothing the rest of the day.  Television will do that to you.  And so will working and working and working and doing it all on my own and in my own strength just because "I can" and there's no need for that special Infusion that I look for and ask for in the "hard" times.  This apathy that I personally feel and that I speak with my friends about... this inability to act, to breathe it all in, to live abundantly... what is the remedy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we are/the broken and used/mistreated, abused/here we are&lt;br /&gt;Here You are/the beautiful one/who came like the sun/here You are...&lt;br /&gt;he is the one who has saved us/he is the one who embraced us/he is the one who has come and is coming again/&lt;strong&gt;he's the remedy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here we are/bandaged and bruised/awaiting a cure/here we are&lt;br /&gt;here you are/our beautiful king/bringing relief/here you are...&lt;br /&gt;he is the one who has saved us/he's the one who &lt;strong&gt;forgave&lt;/strong&gt; us/he's the one who has come and is coming again/&lt;strong&gt;he's the remedy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to live as I know I can... with that power in me that was in Christ Jesus... the very same power that &lt;em&gt;raised him from the dead&lt;/em&gt;.  I think if I lived like I believed that, it'd be earth-shattering.  In a good way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy 2008, everybody.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-5031633207992409181?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/5031633207992409181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=5031633207992409181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5031633207992409181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/5031633207992409181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2007/12/end-of-year-or-apathy.html' title='&quot;The end of the year,&quot; or, &quot;apathy.&quot;'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-1233841128472621166</id><published>2007-12-29T00:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-31T16:11:45.831-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Flouride treatments...</title><content type='html'>My new dentist said all I need to do is use mouthwash.  He said flossing is good but listerine is better.  He said I need a night-guard b/c I grind my teeth at night (euw), but I don't need the 2 fillings that the other dentist said I needed.  Whatever.  I have to kill the germs in my mouth because the bacteria is what causes tooth decay and bad breath.  Not that I have bad breath... except in the mornings.  But who doesn't? &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bobby Frasor got injured last night in the Nevada game.  I bet Mary is heartbroken.  But at least it wasn't Danny or Tyler or Ty.  Q is going to have to step up.  I realized a few days ago that I judge Yankees and Patriots fans because their team always wins. Only losers go for teams that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; win... that's too easy.  Fandom should be difficult and trying and passionate and heartwrenching.  But then I realized I'm a Carolina basketball fan.  And we are 12-0 and rated #1.  Can't get much more insufferable than that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like the word "preposterous."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I get sad thinking about all the people I've loved and lost.  God, protect and keep them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry for the sentimentality.  It's the music-- it always does that to me.  Certain artists especially... Snow Patrol (SO emo), Damien Rice (same)... I guess it's the emo factor that makes me feel like crying for no good reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wrote the above last night and then more after that but I lost it b/c of my internet connection.  The amazing literary feat that was my writing is now lost from the world forever. Sad. I think I started writing about boys and how they are unreliable... no, it was about how maybe you can miss one's soulmate.  By that, I mean, just for a time... I think maybe your paths cross again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-1233841128472621166?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/1233841128472621166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=1233841128472621166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1233841128472621166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/1233841128472621166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2007/12/flouride-treatments.html' title='Flouride treatments...'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-4089634224936131659</id><published>2007-12-27T00:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T00:05:44.713-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jason'/><title type='text'>Oh, and...</title><content type='html'>... today is 9 months since Jason died.  I consider the more important day to be the 23rd, but it was March 26th when he went to Jesus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-4089634224936131659?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/4089634224936131659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=4089634224936131659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4089634224936131659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4089634224936131659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2007/12/oh-and.html' title='Oh, and...'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-3896514211885246683</id><published>2007-12-26T23:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T00:03:38.216-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Holidays Shmolidays</title><content type='html'>Why am I okay with Christmas but not Valentine's Day?  Why do I enjoy Independence Day and Thanksgiving but could do without Halloween and... um... Memorial Day? My cousin hates Christmas; my family's never done anything for minor holidays (Labor Day, etc.).  I took off of work for Friday and Monday; I worked today (26th), but I'm taking Thursday off to be with the family (staying in Alexandria).  I work Friday and Monday, and get Tuesday off and then work normally Weds-Fri. Random, I know.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gabe said tonight at dinner that, along with my musings about breathing out of my hair (ask if you want to know), I also used to wonder, "What if our brains were in our toes?"  ... the thought being that if we stubbed our toes, we would die.  Where's Nick Burns when you need to have a good hypothetical conversation? (Irony alert-- a rhetorical question about a hypothetical situation.)  This came up because I asked a hypothetical question that had been deemed ridiculous.  I don't remember what it was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I realized that I look down on Yankees and Patriots fans because they have such an easy job.  Their team wins all the time.  But then I realized that I am a diehard Carolina basketball fan.  Even worse, I suppose.  "Judge not, so you're not judged... The same measure you use will be used to measure to you..." etc. etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tomorrow we're going to see "My Fair Lady" at the Kennedy Center. I'm excited; always loved the musical; recently I enjoyed the written play by Bernard Shaw; and who doesn't love to see a musical on stage?  And Saturday I'm going to see "Spamalot," if I can find somebody to take the other $50 ticket.  It'll be worth it, I promise!! Come with me!!  Also planning on going ice skating on Saturday; hopefully I won't hurt myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it okay to say "Merry Christmas" when it's not actually Christmas?  I have a hard time doing it. Well, really, the problem for me is more about saying "Happy New Year" when it's still 2007.  Why don't we say it all year long? January 1 is just one day out of 366 in 2008 (yerp-- leap year!)  And why the heck did God make there be 365.25 days per year so we have to have an extra day every 4 years??? Weird. God is so weird and so smart.  SO SMART.  That's my favorite thing about going to the zoo and about studying biology.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a theory about praise.  I think we praise God's characteristic that we like about ourselves.  Let me put that a wee more eloquently.  What we appreciate most about God is what we admire in ourselves.  I think I'm relatively intelligent; I can write a damn good essay and I can converse on a number of topics with a more diverse vocabulary than most 22 year olds. And because of that, I believe, I think I praise God's intelligence more than anything else.  I love his beauty and his goodness and his bigness and his love, but I really appreciate his brains. It's so much MORE than mine; he's so much more than I.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I pity the skeptics.  They're missing more than they'll ever know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-3896514211885246683?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/3896514211885246683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=3896514211885246683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3896514211885246683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/3896514211885246683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2007/12/holidays-shmolidays.html' title='Holidays Shmolidays'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-7485143315397445445</id><published>2007-12-17T23:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T23:42:35.649-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><title type='text'>"I'm going to marry a girl from Chapel Hill," or "Guys are all the same"</title><content type='html'>the urban sophisticates have a fun song that has a few lyrics.  one of said lyrics goes as follows: "i'm going to marry a girl from Chapel Hill/before i go on tour/and then i'm gonna call her from the road/just so she can sing me to sleep."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;oh, lovely; i think i just heard my roommate having sex with her quebecois boyfriend. lovely. further underlines my conviction to move out. he comes every monday through wednesday. i have friends here a lot too, but they're here on the WEEKEND. not a work night. and she doesn't do her dishes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;anyway, back to the topic at hand.  boys are (almost) all the same.  they see one or two good qualities and decide i'm worth investigating further.  then they decide the cons outweigh the pros. or i make it clear they're wasting their time because as far as i'm concerned, they're not my prince charming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;not that i need the One Prince Charming. i need A prince charming. there are many, from what i hear.  everyone can be one if they would just try.  i know i can be a good girlfriend.  if i am happy, i can make him happy, whoever 'he' is. if i'm not happy, we shouldn't be together. i feel like i have to make somebody see that i'm worth whatever it takes. but that's not my job. it's not the job of a treasure to be found; it's the job of the pirate.  where's my pirate?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but i'm happy to be single. i can make my own decisions and live my own life without thinking of anyone else. i have a lot of freedom right now.  incredibly, i've been single now for just over 11 months... 'jason-less janel' is an interesting person to get to know.  i definitely like her more than i liked 'janel, jason's girlfriend.'  that's who i was for 3 years. some of her was good and some of her was bad. but for better or worse, i need to always be simply janel, without consideration or regard for a man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i suppose identity is intensely personal, until marriage.  we are identified with communities, but only i have a particular amalgamation of communities in my identity.  our family, our work, our graduating class, our roommates, our past all combine to create a community-ful but individual identity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so i can be janel-- a blanchard, a follower of Jesus, a member of the950 and of ourfriends, blake/wayzata/east class of 03, carolina class of 07, (current) employee of TransPerfect, (current) resident of DC, native of mebane/plymouth/chapel hill, traveller to Cuba, and sundry other identities-- but if you notice, i did not mention one person... except Jesus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;one day i'll hopefully mention another person in such a list.  but until then, i'm just simply me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-7485143315397445445?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/7485143315397445445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=7485143315397445445' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/7485143315397445445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/7485143315397445445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-going-to-marry-girl-from-chapel-hill.html' title='&quot;I&apos;m going to marry a girl from Chapel Hill,&quot; or &quot;Guys are all the same&quot;'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-6038134681949864692</id><published>2007-12-07T17:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T17:51:24.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You make everything glorious</title><content type='html'>What is glory?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christians and sports fans throw that word around... I think the sport fans are the ones that know what they're talking about.  (Winning the national championship in 2005 was glorious... a good football game/battle of the gridiron-- that's glorious.) Christians are only trying to have a word for God.  We call him glorious; we talk about living for his glory; we "see God's glory" in creation.  Well, how do I know whether or not I'm thinking of &lt;em&gt;creation's&lt;/em&gt; glory while I'm referring to God's glory?  Because I don't know what the heck &lt;em&gt;his&lt;/em&gt; glory is.  It's too big; too broad of a concept for my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about light and shiny castles and thrones and jewels.  But is that beauty and not glory?  Are they the same? Do I equate the two?  Can something ugly or boring also be glorious?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Donald Miller writes in &lt;u&gt;Searching for God Knows What&lt;/u&gt; that our economies of beauty and money and power are man-made... that that's not what God considers glorious, or worthy. Maybe "worthy" is a better word for the concept I'm trying to talk about. That we as humans try to validate ourselves by comparisons against others in invalid currencies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why does my heart leap at beauty?  Why do I desire power and influence?  Why do I care how others perceive me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are these things still part of 'glory'?  God has been praised for his beauty... but "there was nothing in His appearance that we should desire him."  Jesus was not goodlooking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-6038134681949864692?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/6038134681949864692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=6038134681949864692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6038134681949864692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/6038134681949864692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2007/12/you-make-everything-glorious.html' title='You make everything glorious'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-4944478842725379137</id><published>2007-12-02T14:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T15:14:56.359-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sabbath'/><title type='text'>Where am i now?</title><content type='html'>well, i have been without a computer for 5 months.  for those that know me, this is astounding.  (be it known that i have had internet access for 10 hours a day, 5 days a week at work, however.) maybe i can start e-journalling in addition to my trad-journalling.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so now i have been blessed with a new laptop to keep me entertained and relatively technologically content for the foreseeable future (that is not saying much, since i can't see even cloudily past Christmas...).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;my life has been so full since i moved to DC.  i've made amazing friends, reconnected with people from my past, and met awesome people (kelley, lyz, emilee, lindsay short, the small group girls, kari at frontline; lindsey, allison, carrie at work; jessica skinner, jessica ciotti, annie, jenny, amy, kat, aditi from various backgrounds.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i have had visits from some of my favorite people of all time-- mary, becca, nick, jruss, kate, katie z, ellen, my immediate family, stephanie.  amy lived here for a few months.  i have had every step paved, every need met, every bill paid.  praise to my God and Dad in heaven.  he really does look out for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i'm learning that the fact "life is good" does not mean "God is good"... if it did, then when life changed from good to bad, God would also change from good to bad.  and the bible says "he does not change like shifting shadows" and we all know very well that life changes from minute to minute.  so instead, i'm going to start with "God is good" and then what follows from that is "sometimes life is good and sometimes it sucks ass."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i'm reading "mudhouse sabbath" by lauren winner.  the book is about the tenets of Judaism that Christians do not follow but can learn a lot about God by observing and perhaps following in a more peculiarly Christian way.  it's v interesting, b/c i've been confused as to why we no longer consider the sabbath holy beyond a token trip to church. (and even now, i go to church after my long Monday.)  i agree with todd philips--it doesn't have to be sunday; that's man's cultural and ecclesiastical decision that makes perfect sense.  but when do i celebrate and honor the sabbath?  i'm looking forward to going to church on sundays in the future, just for convenience's sake, if i'm going to live a whole 24hrs devoted to my Savior and the people around me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;big things are a-brewing in my life... more to come.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-4944478842725379137?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/4944478842725379137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=4944478842725379137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4944478842725379137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/4944478842725379137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2007/12/where-am-i-now.html' title='Where am i now?'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-9020980544417786456</id><published>2007-05-01T00:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T01:05:56.777-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>if i had the chance/to go back again/take a different road/bear a lighter load/tell an easy story&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i would walk away/with my yesterdays/and i would not trade what is broken/for beauty only...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and how would i know the morning/if i knew not midnight?&lt;br /&gt;You're my horizon/You're the light of a new dawn&lt;br /&gt;so thank You, thank You/that after a long night&lt;br /&gt;You are sunrise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's a moment when/faith caves in&lt;br /&gt;there's a time when every soul is certain/God is gone&lt;br /&gt;but every shadow/is evidence of sun&lt;br /&gt;and every tomorrow/holds out hope for us, for every one of us&lt;br /&gt;-nichole nordeman 'sunrise'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Questions in my head at the moment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. should i put all my eggs in this TransPerfect/DC basket?&lt;br /&gt;2. what will it be like to have a 'real' job? can i do it/get used to it/be happy doing it?&lt;br /&gt;3. when will i feel normal again?&lt;br /&gt;4. what is being graduated like?&lt;br /&gt;5. should i try really hard on my exams when i don't have to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny how things used to seem so black and white... but the older I get, the more I realize the extent of gra/eyness in our lives, in our world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a kid, I used to lie around the house and read Nancy Drew or Jane Austen or Frances Hodgsen Burnett, then go outside and jump in leaf piles or over our stream in the "woods," then play monopoly or dinosaurs with Shaun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were black and white then.  I was either  bad and got a spanking/made an apology phone call (ha), or I was good and had an uneventful day and slept like a log at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, so much is gra/ey. Relationships especially, but also good/bad and what I should and shouldn't do.  How should my relationship with my parents be? What should my priorities be? How can I feel out the will of God when I can barely even talk to him right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I agree with Nichole Nordeman... why do Christians always feel like they have to say, "I was in a really hard time and God got me out of it," instead of, "Hey, I'm really struggling here; I know God will come through for me... but he hasn't yet."  Why do we only talk about our hard times AFTER we're okay again? Why don't we have the faith that God will come through our darkness just like he always has?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe he will. I'll see him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My problems aren't the biggest he's ever faced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to every son and daughter/wayward and long gone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i tried to throw You off track/a needle in a haystack&lt;br /&gt;and i don't know how You found me/why You let me come back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it's a long way home/when all you're left to carry&lt;br /&gt;is a heart of stone/and the weight of most the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'd like to lay it down a little/or lay it down a lot&lt;br /&gt;i don't want to hold it anymore&lt;br /&gt;lay it down in pieces/or lay it down in whole&lt;br /&gt;everything i've carried on my own&lt;br /&gt;-nichole nordeman 'lay it down'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-9020980544417786456?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/9020980544417786456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=9020980544417786456' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/9020980544417786456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/9020980544417786456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2007/04/if-i-had-chanceto-go-back-againtake.html' title=''/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621120747539539109.post-669327293581940973</id><published>2007-04-23T22:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T22:40:49.128-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jason'/><title type='text'>Where am I right now</title><content type='html'>i don't know what i'm doing.  tomorrow, i may; however, a month ago today, my life changed forever and so far i have not regained that blissful feeling of confidence, of peace, of 'all is right with the world.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because all is most certainly not right with the world; because there is evil... because Jason was hit by a car on March 23rd and because 32 people were slaughtered on April 16th.  and also a little bit because i have to graduate even if i don't want to... no, i do want to graduate.  i don't want to grow up.  i know that's not really comparable but it just goes to show that life isn't what i want it to be... but when is it ever?  why expect anything when things are never what you expect?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what do you do when life has lost its color?  does it come back?  i feel like it does, but i don't know... i've never been on this side of the equation before.  i know things won't ever be 'the same' again (that happens all the time), but i will feel similarly happy again, right?  there is so much to be excited about... graduation, moving, a job, a car, friends, Tiffany's wedding, trips, summer...  for some reason, i don't care all that much.  not like i used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time heals everything, right?  that's what they say, anyway.  whoever they are.  i don't understand death... i don't realize that it means forever, that it's irreversible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or is it?  in this life, yes.  but this life isn't all there is.  that hope will keep me from the temptation to despair that JD talked about at church yesterday.  the spiritual is more real taht&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have lost a friend, the person who changed my life more than any other, who most shaped who i am today.  but i've also lost my innocence... and it was blissful.  i'll miss that as well as Jason Ray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i could talk about Jason for hours.  i'll leave that for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;life is coming, rescue is coming...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"and there's nothing wrong with me&lt;br /&gt;it's just that i believe things could get better&lt;br /&gt;and there's nothing wrong with love&lt;br /&gt;i think it's just enough to believe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't give up now/a break in the clouds&lt;br /&gt;we could be found/rescue is coming"&lt;br /&gt;-david crowder band&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8621120747539539109-669327293581940973?l=janelblanchard.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/feeds/669327293581940973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8621120747539539109&amp;postID=669327293581940973' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/669327293581940973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8621120747539539109/posts/default/669327293581940973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://janelblanchard.blogspot.com/2007/04/where-am-i-right-now.html' title='Where am I right now'/><author><name>janel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12679997829893155047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
