Peter, Jenny, and Christina are back in town for a visit. Yay! It was great to see them again. It was really nice, too, since they stopped in Lodi and picked up a bottle of wine for me. I was especially happy since the wine is one I had read about before, and Peter was told if I knew anything about wines I should be familiar with their 7 Deadly Zins. How can you forget a wine with that name? Now I need to find a reason to open it.

Well, regardless of the wine, it was great to see Peter, Jenny, and Christina. Christina grows cuter each time I see her. =)

After watching Tomb Raider 2 on Friday (which I thought was better than the first since the storyline was more interesting and Lara Croft's character had a little more depth), I came home to wipe off the layer of dust from my rollerblades and pack for my weekend trip to San Diego.

It had been at least two years since I had rollerbladed, so when we stopped at Mission Bay to rollerblade, I pulled on my blades and made my way across the parking lot and across the street with a bit of trepidation. I figured an injury at my age would be far more detrimental than my former rollerblading days, and I was never great at rollerblading to begin with. I'm just so happy I didn't fall, even when weaving through crowds of beachgoers.

The trip was a pleasant one, more so than I had expected. Everyone in the group was relaxed. We had no strict agenda. It was nice getting to know people from my small group a little better. It was nice to share a few laughs.

I'm glad to have more happy memories to take with me when I leave.

If you were to ask me how I am doing these days, I would give you the obligatory responses: "okay", "good", "fine". And by saying so, I wouldn't be lying since I have nothing to complain about. My work schedule is becoming less and less hectic week by week. I have my health and my sanity (although some may disagree). Life is okay.

But if you were to ask me more specifically about how my soul is doing these days, then, well...I'd have to tell you that I've been feeling a growing dissatisfaction. There is an uneasiness that is not so strong but kind of like the discomfort you'd feel on slightly humid days.

I spent this morning pondering the state of my soul and the possible cause for its disturbance. Fortunately, my schedule left me without any students this morning so yesterday I had requested to take this morning off. I wanted to rest. Initially I was only seeking physical rest, but I realized as the morning wore on, that the rest I was seeking required more internal scrutiny.

I realized that I have been treating these last few months before leaving California as a sort of holding pattern, in particular, for my spiritual growth. My goal to make the most of my time here has skewed my priorities.

I need to pay more attention to my soul.

For months I had been anticipating our night out at the Hollywood Bowl. Even more than listening to Joao Gilberto perform live, I was longing for the experience of being at the Bowl...with friends, food, music, and wine on a cool summer evening.

After enduring Hollywood Bowl traffic, we made it just in time to settle in our seats before the performance began. Susan, Nick, Lauren, Erik, and I managed to squeeze in our assigned seats on the bench. As soon as we sat, I opened a Pinot Noir and a sweet white wine (for Susan). With the first sip, I already felt more relaxed.

Few people bothered to pay much attention to the opening act. People continued eating, chatting away, or walking around. It almost made it seem as if that were the purpose of having this woman on stage, to give people time to situate themselves before the "real" performer. By the time Gilberto walked on stage, it had grown dark. The audience quieted (for the most part).

Now, I had always been curious as to how Joao Gilberto's name was correctly pronounced. I had always pronounced "Joao" as "Jo-ow". They announced his name which in my transliteration comes out like "Zh-wow", so I periodically exclaimed "Zh-wow!!" at various times throughout the evening. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I found it very funny.

I was pleasantly surprised that Zh-wow's voice was still very smooth in his old age...but it was also very quiet. The soundman was as much a part of center stage as Zh-wow. Zh-wow even stopped in the middle of one song when he couldn't hear his own guitar. The soundman was back again, for the umpteenth time.

Gilberto had a lot to say between songs. It was too bad we didn't know what he was saying. And it wasn't just because the volume was low but because he spoke only in Portuguese. "What?!" someone in our section asked out loud in the middle of one of Gilberto's speeches. I had to laugh. He had expressed what all of us were thinking or whispering amongst ourselves.

It was unfortunate that the sound quality was poor, but it was an enjoyable evening nevertheless. We had a few laughs. The music was relaxing. I finished the Pinot. We went home.

An item from my list of things to do before I leave has been checked off. *sigh* Who knows when I'll be back at the Bowl again?

I've had my summer's fill of dizzying action scenes, special effects, explosives and explosions. After watching Bad Boys II on Sunday I realized I had more than surpassed my limit on Hollywood blockbusters. I was craving substance and meaning. I felt the urge to pick up a book and fill my mind with knowledge to balance the visual over-stimulation.

So last night I went to watch Together with Linda and Nick. I figured a touching story about a boy, his father, and his violin would be good for me. It wasn't a bad film, but I was expecting much more. I was told to bring tissues since I would probably cry. I kept wondering when that scene would come up. It never did. And the scenes where they used lots of light as if heaven's light were shining down...I thought it was supposed to be a dream, but it wasn't. I just didn't get it. What was that?

Anyway...it turns out I'll be watching Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life with Hannah on Friday, opening night. Man, am I a great friend or what? That, and I'm really curious to see Hannah as Lara Croft. And then on Saturday a few of us will be in San Diego and the plan is to watch Pirates of the Caribbean that night. *sigh*

The visual over-stimulation continues!

There I was, chuckling at the absurdity of the scene. Hannah and I had been waiting in line in front of The Ivar in Hollywood. We knew nothing about this happening new club (see Calendar Live - Ivar), but Hannah's friend from San Francisco was visiting and requested The Ivar for a rendezvous. We had been wanting to dance the night away, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

When Hannah and I initially arrived, the two lines--the guest list and non-guest list lines--that had formed on one side of the entrance were no more than a few dozen people. By the time an hour had passed, another two lines had formed on the other side of the club entrance, and a horde of club-goers began to form a non-line in front of the door. That's when the chuckling began. I chuckled at the fact that an hour had passed and we had barely moved. I chuckled at the odd assortment of people (from bachelorette parties to women exposing various body parts to men wearing shorts and flip-flops) and the desperation expressed by everyone seeking entrance. When Hannah's friend arrived with a group of his friends and we moved to the guest-list line and still crawled at a snail's pace, I chuckled. I chuckled at the woman shamelessly touching, pinching and grabbing one of the bouncers. (And she did eventually get in with her friends.) I chuckled that it took nearly two hours for me and Hannah to reach the front of the line. I chuckled at the people in the horde standing in front of the entrance shouting to Travis, the man with the list, telling him so-and-so had sent them there. I chuckled when Travis turned his attention to us only to be called away to attend to well-connected people too cool to stand in line. And then we made a collective decision to leave.

We had made it to the front of the line, but we decided we had waited enough. It was all ridiculously funny, in my opinion. We went next door for pizza. And then we went down the block to Star Shoes which I found funny, too. Only in Hollywood would a place called Star Shoes be a cocktail lounge and not a shoe store. Star Shoes ended up having a tiny dance floor, so Hannah and I did manage to get a little bit of dancing in before we called it a night. Unfortunately, my martini was getting in the way of dancing. I never drank a martini so fast in my life.

The evening wasn't at all what we had planned, but regardless, I was entertained. It did seem like a bit of a tease, though. We still need to go dancing.

Kids say the darndest things...

Casey, a hyperactive seven-year old with blonde curly hair, asked me in his high, squeaky voice, "Joo, what land are you from?"

I smiled, but before I could respond, he asked, "Are you Korean?"

He told me I looked Korean. And then he asked if I had been to Koreatown. And then he told me he liked Koreatown. "Except...no offense, but everyone's face looks like it's been hit with a frying pan."

Speaking of money, I met with my new financial representative today for two hours. Two hours!

About two years ago, I had started a Roth IRA after a friend of mine became a representative. Financial investments are probably one of the last things I think about, but I figured I should do something, even if I started small. At the time when I met with my friend, I remember the entire process of talking about financial goals being very foreign and strange. I was grateful for the counsel, however, and was glad I could receive it from a friend. My friend ended up going back to her previous career as a teacher, but since my contributions were being taken automatically from my checking account, it honestly didn't cause any sort of anxiety.

Susan had befriended a financial rep at church, and after meeting with him, passed my information along. He had been trying to contact me, and after informing me he would be in Pasadena today, I agreed to meet with him at the Starbucks down the street from work.

We both pulled into the parking lot at about the same time, and since we had met before, recognition was not a problem. We settled at a table outside and began with the non-threatening conversation of getting acquainted. And I don't mean to say that any part of the conversation was threatening, but once the conversation turned more directly toward financial goals and financial planning, I found myself in unfamiliar territory. I had talked more freely until that point. Once the issue of finances came up, my responses became more uncertain with lots of frequent pauses and short replies.

"What are your goals in life? Do you have career goals?" Even those questions had me stumped. I realize my goals have more to do with wanting to become a certain kind of person than wanting to accomplish certain things. Is it not enough to want to be a good person who helps people? Am I supposed to know exactly what I'm supposed to do? Is there one kind of career that will define me? I informed him that I generally live in the moment and rarely plan ahead. I informed him that any current thoughts about finances center around my move back to the East Coast and don't go beyond that.

While I may not financially plan ahead, I don't consider myself to be completely lame with finances. I pay my bills (automatic deductions help). I rarely use credit cards and always pay them off when I can. I may not balance my checkbook, but I have never bounced a check. My income has never been great, but I have mastered the art of living within my means. I never spend more than I have. Yet while meeting with my new rep, I couldn't help thinking I must sound really lame and directionless. I knew I had reason to talk with him.

After the financial mumbo-jumbo, he asked for connections. Who did I think might benefit from his counsel? He informed me that people who are married and people who think about financial planning would be the type of people with whom there's the best chance for mutual benefit. (I fit neither category, obviously.) I started listing names. He commented that I had a lot more to say now that we were not talking about finances and were talking about people. I had previously told him (during our "getting acquainted" conversation) that I do like change as long as my relationships are stable (which can be problematic when change causes separation...but discussing this is another blog entry in itself). And I had told him that personal interaction in my work is very important to me. He told me later that he could see that to be true.

If you happen to be looking for a financial representative, please let me know. I would be happy to help you get connected. If you happen to NOT want anyone to contact you, please let me know that as well. I *ahem* may or may not have passed your info along.

=)

Before heading to the supermarket yesterday, I remembered to grab the small ziploc bag of change I had sitting in my room. I had been wanting to deposit the coins into a CoinStar machine for some time, and I was finally getting around to it. Since I had pulled out all the quarters to use for laundry, I expected the change to add up to no more than $10 or $15. It was quite a surprise for me when the total amounted to more than $28. With the subtraction of the CoinStar fee of 8 cents per dollar, I was left with a little more than $25, a nice pleasant surprise. Even though I had more than that amount in change, I somehow felt $25 richer.

This morning, I had to park on the street since our parking lot was full. There have been more people in our office building these days; it seems SBC, the owner of our building, is currently training quite a few new employees. I parked on a nearby street with a four-hour parking limit realizing I should probably move my car during the lunch hour. It didn't happen. I came back to my car at the end of the day with a ticket on my windshield. I've been told this is the first time this summer that tickets have been issued. And apparently this street did not have a parking limit two weeks ago.

Oh, well. C'est la vie. I looked at the ticket, and the fine is...you guessed it, $25.

Last week, one of my co-workers had invited me to join a short prayer meeting during lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She said she and a few of the summer employees were meeting for a few minutes at the end of the lunch hour.

It turns out that they have been enjoying their prayer times so much they wanted to meet every day. I decided to join them today, and, my goodness, I couldn't help thinking they're SO HOLY! It was weird.

A part of me realized that this means I have accountability at work now. And, honestly, a small part of me thought, "Drats! I can't be mean or unkind, and I can't complain!"

I can be such the reluctant Christian sometimes.

On Saturday, after having lunch with some ladies at the Tea Rose Garden and watching Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle (which I admit, I enjoyed), I raced to pick up some things and head over to Peter and Melvin's place for an evening of French wine. They had asked for their guests to bring cheeses or appetizers. I hadn't had much time to think about what I should bring since I decided to attend last minute, so at the market I grabbed cheese, pate, crackers and ingredients for an artichoke dip.

I threw the artichoke dip together and popped it in the oven as I freshened up. As soon as it was done, I raced over to their place. When I arrived, I was the only female in attendance. The other female guest wouldn't arrive for another two or three hours. No biggie.

They had already opened the first bottle, a bottle of Viognier. This was my second experience with Viognier, and so far, Viognier has proven to be an enjoyable white wine. The second bottle was a 1992 Chateauneuf-du-Pape. This wine was very different from any I had had before, so I found it intriguing. We tasted the 1992 wine next to a 2000 from the same region of France but with a different blend of grapes. The wines were completely different. The 2000 tasted more like what I was accustomed to drinking with a more pronounced fruitiness. Both were very nice, and because of their vast differences, it was hard to compare.

The evening ended with desserts made by Peter. This was my first experience with Claufoutis, a dessert made with fruit, yogurt and flour. Peter made both peach and cherry varieties. Both were excellent.

After nearly six hours, the party ended, and I headed home. It had been a nice evening, even if I didn't really know everyone at the event. Wine has a way of bringing people together, I suppose.

And then I went to sleep. At around 5 a.m., I woke up (which isn't unusual for me...I tend to wake up at least once during the night). I woke up and this thought was in my head. I can't say if the thought woke me up or if the thought popped into my head as soon as I woke up, but it was there. If thoughts can scream, this thought was screaming at me: "Artichokes are wine-killers!" Egads! How did I forget this? I couldn't believe it...I had brought a wine-killer to a wine event! For a second I thought maybe my mind was recalling false information. Well, today I looked it up, and sure enough, artichokes are a wine anti-match. Apparently there is something in artichokes that reacts negatively with wine.

I will probably berate myself for this the rest of the week. Never again will I make the same mistake!

Okay, now that I've talked about James and Jessica, I must talk about me. On Friday, I couldn't help thinking what a huge PIG I am.

During lunch on Friday, a few of us had ordered food from The Hat. There I was, eating my pastrami sandwich, when my boss walks in. She comments on how everything smells really good. She looks at me and says, "Are you having your usual?" I replied, "You know my diet really well, don't you?" And then I thought to myself, "When did my lunch diet become so atrocious?"

I really think my boss just happens to come into the staff room on the days I'm eating food from The Hat. But maybe not. And now that Tommy's opened up just down the street, my lunch diet has gotten worse. I've been eating Tommy's once a week now. This past week I had Tommy's on Wednesday, Carl's on Thursday, and The Hat on Friday.

On Friday night, before James and Jessica arrived, Susan had made me a seafood salad sandwich. It was about 7:30, so I thought I should only eat half the sandwich. But I was hungry and Susan easily convinced me to eat the whole thing. When James and Jessica arrived, I explained that I had already eaten so I wasn't going to eat too much. When we sat down, I skipped out on the bread. I reminded them I had just eaten a sandwich so I had had plenty of bread. We ordered two appetizers to share. We all ordered either a soup or salad. I had the soup. We ordered our main entree. I ordered the monkfish over risotto with lobster sauce and with fried carrots (kind of reminded me of sweet potato fries) sprinkled on top. It was yummy. I thought I would only manage to eat half my dish; I ate the WHOLE THING! And then I ordered the flourless chocolate cake, of course.

By the end of the day, I couldn't help think I need to cut back. I mean I'm glad I can enjoy food. I have been in a long and deep love affair with food for much of my life. But maybe it's getting out of control.

I'm not saying I think I'm fat. But I have been in enough of those stores...those trendy stores for the younger crowd to realize there are plenty of people who can make me feel like a giant. I've accepted the fact that my default size at those stores is not "small", but it never bothered me since the store is primarily created for those who are severely underdeveloped.

Recently, however, during a trip to Old Navy I had to come to terms with the fact that I can't fit into the same size skirt as Lauren. We tried on the same skirt in the same size. I put it on and concluded I looked ridiculous. I figured I wouldn't be able to walk correctly and I would rip the skirt if I sat down. The skirt fit Lauren fine although she opted for the next size up for more room. I would have had to opt for the next size up because the first gave me no room whatsoever. And when I went to try on a pair of pants, I had to go back to the rack and get a size larger for the very same reason.

And then, of course, everyone warns you how your metabolism will slow down when you turn 30. Hopefully mine won't slow to a screeching halt all at once or else I'm really in trouble.

Everything in moderation, right? Well, until my metabolism does slow down, I'm going to enjoy what I can...in moderation. =)

My friend James and his fiancee Jessica are visiting from out of town, and we met up for dinner on Friday. Since it would be my first time seeing them together, I was really looking forward to it.

They arrived shortly after 8 p.m. I took them to Old Town Pasadena where I made reservations at Cafe Bizou. I knew it would be a place James would appreciate.

James was his happy-go-lucky self, animated and chattering away, just how I remembered him. He would periodically use big-dictionary words, and I smiled to myself. I had almost forgotten how he would do that. I asked Jessica questions to include her in conversation. Otherwise, I think either James or I would dominate conversation. =P

It was nice to see James so happy; I've seen him during his not-so-happy days. They talked about how all their friends and family have been supportive of their relationship, and they realize how blessed they are to have such whole-hearted approval. Their relationship has moved along very smoothly from the beginning which is probably why it has also moved so quickly.

When James excused himself, I took the opportunity to ask Jessica if James was the kind of guy she thought she would be with. She said, "Yes, because he's passionate." And to that, I had to agree, although I guess that wouldn't be the first word I would think of to describe him. I later asked if he was the kind of guy her friends thought she would end up with. She said, "Yes, because he's funny." And to that, I agree as well.

Jessica went on to explain that the relationship was a surprise, however, because she had six months left of pharmacy school and was expecting to return to California. James mentioned that the relationship was a surprise to him too since he wasn't expecting to marry until he was 40. I remember he had told me before that after talking with her the first time, it felt "like home". He realized he would be stupid if he didn't do anything about it.

And then James seemed to feel the need to tell me that, in his assessment, East Coast guys are better than West Coast guys. We discussed some general differences about East and West Coast, but as James attempted to identify the flaws of West Coast guys, I remarked, "Isn't that true of guys in general?" Don't worry. I stood up for you West Coast guys. I don't think you guys are any more lame than the guys on the other side. =P (Okay, that was a joke. I think you guys are great. Really!)

As we were walking around after dinner, I asked what they had in common and how they differed. Jessica replied that they had very little in common and that they were almost completely different. Even before seeing them together and even with the little I knew about Jessica, I knew that to be the case. Yet it was strange to me since I had always thought James and I were very different. In comparison, I realized James and I are actually more alike. Maybe the differences James and I have are just differences and the differences between James and Jessica are complementary. ?

The wedding bells will ring for James and Jessica on November 8. Luckily, I'll be on the East Coast by then. =)

Okay, I'm starting a list of things I want to do before I leave California. And you guys must ensure that I do each and every one of them.

1. Enjoy an evening at the Hollywood Bowl, at least one last time. Right now the plan is to be at the Bowl on July 23 for a night of Bossa Nova with Joao Gilberto. But...uh...we haven't gotten tickets yet, and I'm not even sure who's going...but I can picture myself there now, opening a nice bottle of wine (from my "secret" stash), immersed in the ethereal (your word, Hannah) sounds of Bossa Nova.
2. Take a trip up to No. Cal. I must visit wine country.
3. Eat at all my local favorite restaurants.
4. Vegas? San Diego? Other day trip destinations?
5. LACMA. I need to make use of my membership. Please let me know if you ever want to go!
6. Become a patron of the local Hill Market.
7. Go see something at the Pasadena Civic Auditorium since I've never stepped foot inside. Actually, I think I want to visit the Pasadena library, too. I hear it's nice. And I've been thinking I should walk around city hall or something since it's so picturesque, but I never do.
8. Come to think of it, the thought of walking around the city of Pasadena is enticing. Is it possible to walk across the Colorado Street Bridge?

Hmmmm....Well, there's more, I'm sure of it. If you have any suggestions, let me know! And of course I mention all of this on my blogspot because I would never do any of this alone. The company of friends is of utmost importance!

Oh, I browsed through another book last night titled something like, Excuse me, your life is waiting. Basically the book argues that your feelings dictate the course of your life. The author claims that if you're sad and depressed, sad and depressing things will happen to you. I didn't completely buy into the ideas behind the book, but it did leave me thinking about "vibrations", as the book calls it. Apparently, everyone sends off vibrations whether they are low-level so as not to be detected consciously (and apparently many people send off low-level, hostile vibrations which can be hidden under a too-friendly smile) or higher frequency and more evident.

It left me wondering what kind of vibes I'm sending off. Lately, I don't think my vibes have been all too grand. I do want to change that.

It seems as if God has lately been nudging me to become more spiritual, and I've realized how unspiritual I really am. I'm not talking about appearing spiritual or performing outwardly holy and pious activities, but true inner spirituality which is manifested in an outgrowth of joy and peace. Certain verses have been repeatedly coming to my mind. First it was the response of the man with the demon-possessed son challening me to have more faith. Then it was Philippians 4:8 challenging me to think about pure and noble things instead of all the other "stuff" which preoccupies my mind. And now the words of Jesus about not to worrying and seeking God's kingdom first have been on my mind.

Last night I found myself at Borders since Susan was hosting a scrapbooking party. (I have allergic reactions to stamping and scrapbooking. =P) I picked up (another) Henri Nouwen book titled Making All Things New and read through it in about an hour.

In the book, Nouwen writes how we often live filled but unfulfilled lives. We fill our lives with activity as if being busy shows that we are somehow more important, and despite our filled schedules, we often feel bored, lonely, or depressed. He notes that in our society it is normal that if we are not occupied with activity, we are instead preoccupied with worry and concern. He challenges the reader to re-center their lives on God and His Kingdom by making space in their lives for God through the spiritual disciplines of solitude and community.

Solitude has never been the easiest of disciplines for me. Taking time to be alone can be a challenge, but being intentional to clear my mind and listen to God during that time is an even greater challenge. Nouwen, however, encourages solitude, even in small bits as long as it's on a regular basis. That, I can try to do. As for community, Nouwen states that true community transcends distance. It was a comforting thought for me, since I fear being without one when I move.

The book was both a comfort and a challenge...a nice way to end the weekend.

I believe I have some kind of car curse. Well, maybe it's not a curse, but I've never had great luck with any vehicle under my possession. All my previous experiences have left me rather paranoid, and in my fatalistic way, I always expect something to go wrong whenever I sit behind the wheel of my car. Any noise I hear (or think I hear) can make me incredibly tense and nervous. (But if I'm driving someone else's car or a rental car or if I'm a passenger of any car, even my own, I'm fine. Strange, huh?)

It all started in high school with the very first car I drove...a Ford Tempo, a TOTAL piece of crap. I was driving on the beltway in Maryland with my sister and some cousins who were visiting. We were moving slowly along in traffic when the engine cut. I'm not even sure how I managed to do it, but I somehow drifted the car off the next exit and turned into a nearby parking lot. An hour later, my dad was able to start the car and couldn't understand what the problem had been.

Most of my car woes came from the very first car under my name, my 1973 Dodge Dart Swinger. She was my baby, but it was certainly a strong love/hate relationship. I loved her flashy originality, her electric blue exterior with the white vinyl top and matching blue vinyl bench seats. I loved that she was an attention-grabber...men were always looking over (admittedly at her and not me)...I had been asked many times at gas stations and stoplights if I wanted to sell her. Even after many problems starting the car, stalling at lights, and the time when I swerved off the 405 and into the guard rail from a blown tire (luckily I hit no one, and I wasn't hurt), I still didn't want to let her go. I got a cell phone instead for the next emergency. But I had seen countless mechanics and was growing weary, and so was she. She never fully recovered from the tire blow-out. Her alignment couldn't be fixed because her whole front end was in need of dire repair. I invested $1200 in brakes and some of the front-end work when, maybe three months later, something in the engine....the famed slant-six engine, began to rattle. I knew it was the end. *sigh* When I finally did have her towed away (after months and months of holding onto her), the tow truck driver turned the key, and I heard her familiar rumble and purr. I have never been so sad to let a car go. Anyway, what was I really blogging about?

In between my Dart and my current Civic, I had driven a work vehicle, an old Taurus. One fine day, I exited the freeway and when the light turned green, the engine cut. Again, I somehow managed to pull into a parking lot without injury. One of the belts had broken.

And then I was graciously given an old Toyota Camry from missionaries who had just left overseas. I was wary about driving another older vehicle, but I actually never really had the chance. Soon after it was placed into my possession, I had problems starting the car. Rather than invest money into it, I just gave up then and there. Someone else is now the happy owner of the Camry, in great running condition.

So when my parents came to visit back in November, they were determined to help me get a new reliable vehicle. They didn't really give me a choice in the matter, but I ended up with a new 2003 Civic that very day. My current car is also bright blue, maybe in remembrance of my Dart. I can't say I have the same kind of affection for my new car. I need to find a way to make it MY car. I haven't found the solution for that yet.

Well, within the first week of being a new car owner, I had a flat tire. And, unfortunately, the dealer did a real CRAP job plugging the holes in the tire. The tire was flat again soon afterwards, and I ended up replacing it.

I'm not sure when I first noticed the sound, but I noticed a strange noise every once in a while on the freeway when the car hit about 75 mph. It wouldn't happen all the time, but it was a very noticeable noise coming from the front, sort of like a long beep. I knew I should take it to the dealer, but, well, I haven't yet.

And today on the way down to church (I was supposed to be in Irvine today), I heard that very noise while driving down the 605, only this time, I had only reached 65 mph. When I heard the noise the third time, I decided to turn around and come home. I didn't feel safe anymore. So I didn't make it to church today.

The more I think about it, maybe it's not my own personal car curse. Maybe it's a family curse! I was just thinking about the time our Astro Van caught on fire one morning. Have you heard this story? It's one of my favorite family stories so this is probably a repeat. It happened when I was in high school. I woke up to my mother's frantic voice talking to the 911 operator, "Fire! Car on Fire!" When I had ran downstairs, I saw my dad pushing the van out of the garage. The hood was up and flames were spreading. Sirens drew closer. Police and firefighters showed up. They asked us to move outside, behind our house...my siblings and I were still in pajamas. We could hear the firefighters at work, hosing down the car. We heard a "pop!" and looked up as the cap from the oil tank flew over the house and landed right at our feet. When the police and firefighters were gone, we were left with the charred skeleton of a van. But we knew we were lucky since the van had had a full tank of gas.

There are more stories...like one Christmas Eve when the battery died in the Ford Tempo on the way home. My parents finally decided to stop buying American cars, but even a new Toyota Corolla couldn't prevent my brother from running off the road during a snowstorm. The car flipped over and was totalled. My brother made it out without a scratch.

Well, maybe there is a family car-curse, but through it all, we've always been safe. I guess we have God to thank for that.

My new responsibility as a mentor has been rather interesting in both good and not-so-great ways. At first it was rather odd being on the other side since I very well understand the pressure of being watched and critiqued. I quickly sensed uneasiness from some of the summer employees whenever I was around, so I made the effort to be as friendly as possible. I still couldn't shake off the feeling that some of them considered me more of a foe than a friend. *sigh* I know, I know. I always feel the need to be liked by everyone. But I admit that I appreciated the change from seeing students hour after hour. During my mentoring hours, I have the freedom to go in and out of sessions instead of sitting in one place for the entire hour. That's nice.

Unfortunately, I have already had the unpleasant experience of having to snitch on one of the summer employees. Not only did I note that he wasn't using the proper methods, but he wasn't completing his work. In addition, and worst of all, it appeared he was filling in clinical notes without actually doing the work. If someone wanted to cover up the fact that they're slacking off, that would be the way to do it. My boss apparently had a talk with him yesterday, but I don't exactly know what transpired. I do know, however, that we can't really afford to lay anyone off right now.

I'm also planning to have a talk with my boss about another summer employee. As she was working with a student today, I sensed growing frustration from both of them. Nothing in her tone and her body language and very little in her words told me she was looking out for the best interest of the student. At one point, I clearly sensed a condescending tone in her voice. Looking back, I wish I had said something to stick up for the student, but I was so offended by her, I sat speechless. He's an older student, but I could tell the session had upset him. That, to me, is completely unacceptable.

*sigh* Well, my boss seems to be happy with my work as a mentor. She's been thanking me for all my notes and for different issues I've brought to her attention. The associate director, on the other hand, well...I have never really felt that kind of appreciation from him. And today probably made it worse since I questioned the way one of the tests had been scored. I pointed out the paragraph in the manual that led me to believe it should be scored a certain way. What he was telling me was different. Now, if he had told me, "That's just how we do it here", I would have been fine, but instead I felt like he was telling me I was wrong, even based on what I showed him. And I'm a stubborn girl. I, of course, didn't push it too far, but at the same time, I don't think he appreciated the fact I questioned him at all. Bah.

Well, I'll be back at work tomorrow. Luckily, we were able to work out the schedule so I'll only be working half the day. And because it's a national holiday, and we're working, our company is allowing us to wear jeans. Hey, it's a small thing, but I'll take it. Happy Fourth, everyone!

When do you know if you've crossed the line from being a "realist" to becoming cynical? Is it all in the attitude?

I had been contemplating this a couple of weeks ago when I sat down at Borders and opened the book, Turn My Mourning into Dancing by Henri Nouwen. I'm not even sure why I decided to pick up this particular book, but I flipped through and stopped curiously at the chapter about fatalism and faith.

Reading through the chapter, I realized how fatalistic I had become. Nouwen compares fatalism and faith, about how they may appear similar in some ways. In both cases, there is an acceptance that things are outside of your control, but there is a very distinct and profound difference. He illustrates it with a story about a prisoner of war who, not knowing about the fate of his family, had lost hope and given into his destined fate to die as a prisoner. One day, a letter which traveled over many war-torn miles found its way into his hands. It was a letter from home assuring him that they were okay and waiting for him. Even though his situation had not immediately changed, the letter gave him the hope to continue. He was eventually released and returned to his friends and family.

The past few months of thinking about the reality of my impending move and my involvement in such a huge endeavor, I realize, has left me feeling rather hopeless. The expectation of difficulty, struggle, and loneliness loomed large in my mind. And I kept questioning if I could go through all of this without the guarantee of "success". Would it be worth it?

Any faith I may have had was replaced with fatalism. I hadn't even left for NJ, but the sense of defeat was already strong. Maybe the months of waiting took its toll. It always seems harder to maintain faith for something which you have been waiting for. The longer you wait, the harder it is to have faith. But I knew this needed to change. I began to think about what it means to have true faith, to fully trust in God.

And that verse popped in my head...from the story about the man who had a demon-possessed son. The disciples haven't been able to free his son from the demon, and there is some argument. Jesus comes by to find out what's going on. When he hears about the situation, He calls everyone "faithless" and asks the father how long his son has been under the control of the demon. The father informs Jesus that he has been like this since he was young, and then he asks Jesus to have mercy and to do something if He can. To this Jesus replies, "If I can? Anything is possible if a person believes." The verse that has been running through my mind is the man's reply, "I do believe! Help me overcome my unbelief!"

I need to believe again.