Ep. 5: No one told me adventure would be so lonely; Ep. 6: Delayed gratification never felt so good

[I'm starting to realize that my posts are turning into bad-news-good-news formulas. Perhaps this was not as creative as I imagined it to be . . . ]

Well, I’m here.

The final (overdue, BLARG) paper is turned in, and Christmas and New Year have pretty much come and gone. Now that I’ve run the first lap of grad school, I understand the race a little better.

It seems like things you anticipate for so long happen often do turn out like you expected, only not in the way you expected. And if I may dare to mix academics with personal life, as Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Coverdale¹ says, realized dreams always wear the clothes of homely reality.

• I knew grad school would be hard. It would be more reading, more thought, more discussion; but I was ready for all that. What I wasn’t expecting was that it would be from a totally different and sometimes opposite approach to what I preferred. I’ve kind of mentioned it before, but there seems to be a strong suspicion of aestheticism in favor of a more political/cultural approach. I’m probably describing this very poorly, so let me give a more concrete example. The 18th century lit class I took combined both British and American literature that was representative of either the Enlightenment and Romanticism. Instead of focusing on individual authors, we flitted around from excerpt to excerpt. We read only three novels, two of which were popular literature of their time. Now I understand the purpose was to break down the traditional canon of what is known as British/American Enlightenment/Romantic literature in order to get a bigger picture of what people were actually thinking then, but I am not really interested in the development of thought among the masses. I guess that makes me elitist. Somehow I don’t feel bad. I get the importance of studying culture. We need to know where we came from. But if we study only the “humdrum” literature of whatever time period, then “humdrum” is all we’ll ever be.²

  All that is to say that I don’t know if I will ever learn to rise above old-fashioned aesthetics when it comes to books. I love the beautiful truths that artists weave into language, words, symbols, characters, and stories. Training my mind to think politically is hard because it’s not fun to me. But it is important. I hope the next semester will prove easier now that I’ve dealt with all the firsts.

• Moving to a new city, especially a bigger one, is also not easy. Sometime later I will rant about all the things that are different about southern California. It sounds funny to say it, but the thing I miss most about Salem is what little of geek culture that’s filtered down from Portland. In Portland, it’s cool to be uncool. Here, it’s just uncool. And I’m the only Northwesterner I know here. Most people seem to be around here, the farthest within half a day’s drive. So I guess I have a good reason to bond with other out-of-staters. But building a social network from scratch takes time. I’m not complaining — I mean, I knew this was how it was going to be for a while. I’m looking forward to getting more settled in here. But I’m going to miss familiarity in the meantime.

***

I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be done with finals. The last paper was delayed by two weeks because of my underestimating how long it would take me to write a 15-page research paper. It feels so wonderful to not to have to read a single word.

In the bigger picture, though, it always feels wonderful to know that I’ve completed a full semester of something that I’ve been looking forward to since the end of my senior year of college. It was a long three years, and despite the difficulty that grad school is and will continue to be, it’s worth it. I don’t want to do anything else, unless “anything else” means becoming a rich writer overnight. But even then I think I’d still be looking back. I’m obsessed with learning.

But the thing I’m most excited about: conquering my fear of creative writing. I’m looking forward to writing the stories I need to write. I know the journey’s only just beginning, but I’m ready.

Reading: Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth #6), Terry Goodkind (should probably get back to War and Peace as well…)
Listening: Kaleidoscope Heart, Sara Bareilles; select Glee songs, especially Gwyneth Paltrow’s amazing cover
Watching: Veronica Mars seasons 1 and 2; 30 Rock season 4; Glee season 2; Bones season 6; Love Actually; The Chinese Connection (aka Fist of Fury)
Playing: Diablo 2 and Legend of Zelda! (my goal is to beat Zelda before spring semester)

¹ Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Blithedale Romance
² Christopher Brooke, Jane Austen: Illusion and Reality

Ep. 3: The Bursting of the Bubble; Ep. 4: Persevering and Dreaming Are the Same Thing

A lot of the reason I left Salem was because I felt I needed to get out of the “bubble.” I have lived a relatively sheltered life; I was homeschooled in a socially confined environment until junior high; in junior high and high school my only social circle was a suburbian Baptist church where 50% of the families either homeschooled or privateschooled; in college I attended a Baptist college (now university) with a student body of just under 1,000 (it’s closer to 1,100 now, I believe). Then for three years I lived and worked in Salem, Oregon. It may house Oregon’s capitol and the Oregon state fair, but other than that, nothing happens in Salem. I don’t think I will ever get over the fact that in Oregon’s third-largest (or second-largest, depending on who’s counting) city, you can drive 10 minutes one way and end up in farmland; 10 minutes another way and end up downtown; 10 minutes another way and end up among affluent neighborhoods; and 10 minutes another way and end up in a sort of middle-class suburbia.

Maybe I just do it to myself — or maybe I really just can’t survive for long in my native pond — but I have always felt a discontent that I was “missing out” on something by not residing with the world at large. Anyway, long story short, I chose to go to grad school in southern California, less than an hour from L.A.

Nearly every day I wake up, look around my room, and think “I’m in effing California.” I was astonishingly comfortable with my Salem life. Now, many days I waver between two main thoughts: doubt — “I think REALLY differently from pretty much everybody…can I really make it here believing the things I do?” and trust — “I DO think really differently from pretty much everybody…but I can be openminded without abandoning what I believe, and I need to do this in order to get to where I really want to be” — which is inspiring people through literature and writing, and maybe even provoking a little joy in them as we learn.

I see my academic experience as a microcosm of the bigger experience of what it means to be a Christian in a not Christian world. Like I said before, maybe it’s just part of my nature to seek tension and paradox. But already I feel pulled in two different directions. Academia demands that I think one way. Much of Christian culture (though not necessarily Christianity, as I see it) demands that I think another. But this just causes me to ask why the two can’t find more places to agree. To put it simply, I love Jesus and I love books, and a lot of other things; but I frequently feel frustrated by what seems like closedmindedness from both sides.

I freely admit that there is much I don’t know about academia, and maybe it’s not as difficult as I think. After all, I’ve been here only two months. Perhaps what I feel is merely the new feeling of being in a minority for once, and as of now I find it uncomfortable. I also know I need to not be afraid of others disagreeing when I share my opinion, because we’re here to discuss and explore, not arrive at a consensus.

[Here comes a bit of confession, so if you're not into that stuff, I suggest skipping two paragraphs down.]

But back to the bigger experience of being a Christian in a not Christian world. As I grow more conscious of the differences between me and the culture around me, I also grow more conscious of how I often fail in living what I believe. My thoughts and deeds are not always of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Gal. 5:22). On the contrary — they are often arrogant, inconsiderate, selfish, and impatient. I am not a perfect person, and I do not intend to pass myself off as such. I only want to love God and others — which is harder than it sounds. But God willing, I will learn to do better and better.

* * *

A few weeks, a few words, a few people, and a little (or a lot of) sheer perseverance can make a lot of difference in perspective.

When I last blogged, I felt bogged down by homesickness and fear. It’s not that I don’t feel both of those now, but I have other things to feel too. Relying on Christ for my deepest relational needs isn’t always easy, but then again perhaps no other teacher teaches better than Necessity. And He has given me enough people here to have fun with, work with, and encourage.

One of the biggest encouragements has been the positive response to my writing. I honestly didn’t expect it, but it happened, and now something has set itself into motion. The more I reflect on it, and the more I ask myself what I really want to do with my life, the more I get only one answer: write. And I think I will…no matter the cost. For anyone that knows me and knows how much I loathe and fear failure, this is a big step. Trying your hand at something so delicate and subjective means losing control over your ego. But then I remind myself that Jesus holds my value, and really, I have nothing left to lose.

Who knows, maybe soon I’m going to encounter another and more difficult challenge, and I will feel differently. Right now, though, I have enough inspiration to take the next couple steps. Could it be more? Yes, always; but it could always be less, too. But I will choose to be content with what’s in front of me.

Reading: War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy; Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth #6), Terry Goodkind
Listening: Tiger Suit, KT Tunstall
Watching: Daria season 1;  30 Rock season 3; Glee season 2; Bones season 6
Playing: …nope…something had to go…

Ep. 1: Intimidation Factor; Ep. 2: The Creative Process

Well, I’m here!

I’m in the middle of the second week of classes at CGU, and so far, everything is as I expected. My roommates are friendly and chill, my teachers are amiable and reasonable enough, my classes are interesting and challenging, but not too challenging. It’s warm and sunny most days. I start at a nearby Starbucks next week. Every moment of my new life is great and wonderful.

Wait, no. Everything except that last part. My only surprise in moving down here is my reaction. I have never been homesick my whole life…until now. Adventure I wanted, adventure I got. Only it didn’t taste like I thought it would. Don’t misunderstand: I don’t regret moving down here. I don’t want to be anywhere else. But the last two weeks have reminded me that above all, we are relational creatures, and perhaps I more than most.

I have missed Corban so much these past few days. Yeah, it was school, and it was hard sometimes, but more than learning, we were there to grow and support one another. Here is different. After class we scatter and go our separate ways without a goodbye or even a smile. It’s not an unfriendly environment…but it’s not a warm and inviting one either. Perhaps I am being ridiculous and sentimental and should just concentrate on learning. But then again, what good is learning if we only do it for ourselves?

I don’t fear any inadequacy in my academic abilities. It’s not that. But I am afraid of not having the heart for this endeavor. I cannot do this just for myself.

To add to all this, what was supposed to be my “fun” class — Short Story Writing — is turning out to be my most stressful, because of my response. For many years I’ve struggled with the tension of desiring with all my being to write, yet never having the courage/gumption/will/inspiration to do much beyond journaling and occasional blogging. To me, the fiction writing process is a mystical, otherworldly, and even terrifying creature. (And yes, Anne Lamott, I do sometimes think that successful writers “sit down at their desks every morning feeling like a million dollars, feeling great about who they are and how much talent they have and what a great story they have to tell,” etc., etc.)* I feel worse than a beginning writer in my class because I’ve studied so much about writing, yet my actual output seems to me miniscule and insignificant.

I know, I know, I KNOW. The only way to write is to just write. But does everybody have visions of throwing himself into the wall or smashing her head on the table because thinking of something to say is ten times more painful? I often imagine that my muse is either already dead, or at least severely crippled and perhaps even mute. Or maybe that she was assigned to me because no one else wanted her.

Just so you don’t get the impression that I spend all my time wallowing in self-pity, I have already enjoyed one random trip to Disneyland, and I hope to go again Friday! If all else fails me, I still have Mickey Mouse.

*If I haven’t quoted it previously, I will most likely in the future. The book is Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, and it’s a great one. If ever you’re discouraged about writing, pick it up. She knows it sucks too, but she’ll make you laugh about it.

Reading: Soul of the Fire (Sword of Truth #5), Terry Goodkind; War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
Listening: Kaleidoscope Heart, Sara Bareilles (NEW ALBUM YAY! !)
Watching: Shutter Island, Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior
Playing: Diablo II – pally Benjamin is now a level 49! I know I shouldn’t be playing…but then why is it so fun?

All Growed Up

Last month I turned 25. Eleven fifty-one a.m. on June 8 was just another minute of the lunch hour for most people, but for me it was the last in a series of adolescent milestones I had set for myself.

Perhaps it’s the nice mathematical nature of the number itself (1/4 x 100, or 5²), or my mother constantly admonishing me not to get married before 25 “because that’s when your brain stops changing,” or studying Erik Erikson’s theory of human development (he says that adolescence lasts through age 25), but for whatever reason I’ve always seen 25 as the peak of the current mountain I was climbing. I didn’t expect my life to peak — far from it! — but . . . well, I expected to feel differently about life. And actually, I do.

Now that I’ve finished mourning the end of my adolescence (originally I intended to write this on my actual birthday, but I was still too distressed; I may still be a bit, in fact), I want to sit back and figure out what makes 25 different from, say, 20.

I can think of a lot of little differences. Like what stores you buy your clothes from (Kohl’s instead of Aéropostale), what you do for fun with your friends on a Friday night (talk, sip wine, and be in bed by 11 p.m. instead of spontaneously going skinny dipping at 2 a.m.), and even what shows you watch (Breaking Bad instead of America’s Next Top Model). But these are external. What marked coming of age for me was not my change of habits but a change of perspective.

I am a people pleaser. I care a lot about what other people think of me. At least I used to. Chalk it up to my authoritarian upbringing, an inborn character flaw, or a delayed adolescence, I lived and died off of other people’s opinions. If you said you liked me, life was good and everything was as it should be. If I sensed that you didn’t like me, life sucked and I was a failure. But after so many inevitable disappointments that climaxed in one big heartbreak, I was done.

Not that I’ve swung the other way and becoming an insensitive jackass (at least I hope not!). But now instead of doing everything I can to manipulate you into liking me, I think about how to do right by you. After all, I can only do my best in loving you. And if my best isn’t good enough for you — well, at least I was nice to you. I’m not here to be liked by you. I’m here to love you and do what I can to improve your life. And so far what I’ve learned is that though it doesn’t seem as fun and it’s definitely harder, serving people is far more rewarding than merely liking them.

I know, I know. I took longer than most to learn this. And I still have a long, long way to go. But now that I’m more attuned to doing what’s right — a.k.a. pleasing God — I’m freer to work on really growing up.

More on that later.

Reading: War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy; Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth #4), Terry Goodkind; “Your God Is Too Small,” J. B. Phillips
Listening: Greatest Hits, Queen; Glee
Watching: 40-Year-Old Virgin, The Birds, Drunken Master, St. Elmo’s Fire, The Breakfast Club
Playing: Diablo II: Lord of Destruction (I’m now a level 33 zealot paladin beginning Act V )

Intuition with Truth, pt. 2

Jennifer’s Knapp’s coming out caused a huge stir among the Christian community, one that was well-reflected in my own mind. My loyalty to the themes of her music now demanded that I confront an issue that I had thus far given very little thought. So I started Googling feverishly. [Note: I am by no means an expert. I only know what anyone else would after a few days of internet research. I do plan on reading a few books on the subject, however. See list at the end.] What I found was that there are basically two camps among Christians, often referred to as Side A and Side B. Both acknowledge the existence and nature of homosexuality as something inborn and essentially unchangeable. However, they differ on the biblical mandate regarding homosexual behavior. Put simply, Side A maintains that there is nothing inherently sinful in living out a homosexual life; Side B maintains that while having same-sex attraction (ssa) is inevitable for some, acting on it disobeys what the Bible teaches. Both sides can boast of strong, loving Christians that sincerely desire to please God. Both sides have people that have put a lot of thought  into examining the issue. But in the conflict between intuition and the words of the Bible, they fall on different sides.

Now, with that exposition out of the way, this is what I believe: I fall on Side B of the debate, and this is why:

1. Two thousand years of tradition condemn homosexual practices. While the argument from tradition is certainly not conclusive, I think it’s unwise to disregard the church fathers without having a very, very good case.
2. As long as we’re talking about intuition, I might as well share mine: There is something inherently beautiful and right about a man and a woman together that no other relationship possesses. There is a particular physical and emotional completion that homosexual relationships cannot duplicate.
3. Every time the Bible discusses marriage, it is only between a man and a woman.
4. Even if you ignore completely what the Old Testament says about homosexuality (i.e. the Mosaic Law), the New Testament passages (I Cor. 6:9-10 and I Tim. 6:9-10) that address it are clear. It takes more linguistic and hermeneutical wiggling than I am comfortable to define arsenokoitai as something other than a homosexual. Romans 1:26-27 is even clearer. I can see no logical reason to define “natural” as only “natural for heterosexuals.”

Even Side A Christians recognize that without the appeal to “common sense” and the “no-harm” test — i.e., “what would God have against two Christians in a committed, loving, monogamous relationship?” — their argument is weak. While certainly many homosexual relationships fulfill both of these criteria, , I am very uncomfortable with elevating these subjective tests above the authority of Scripture.

I realize that our understanding of the authority of Scripture is dependent on the scholarship of our translation and the hermeneutical process. But in the studying that I have done so far, the words that are there don’t warrant the interpretation that homosexual behavior is not wrong. And I think it is dangerous to allow intuition of the heart to have the final say. Just from what I know about myself, my heart may have noble aspirations and lovely dreams; but it’s also full of pride, lust, and deceit. So when the Bible and my heart disagree, and prayerful searching of the Spirit does not change my understanding of it, I must submit my so-called common sense. In short, I do not trust myself.

However. (And this is a big however.) I also discern no reason to raise as big of a controversy as there is currently in among American Christianity. Paul made a far bigger deal about pride, jealousy, and contentiousness (just to name a few). I am extremely reluctant to write off so many brothers and sisters — like Jennifer Knapp — who, were it not for their sexual identity, would otherwise be considered normal, orthodox Christians. And I refuse to treat them as apostate, as some hateful so-called Christians seem to love to do.

So where does this leave us? Both sides hold fast to their methods of reasoning. Indeed, among some I sense their mind would not be changed even if presented with irrefutable evidence to the contrary. Some on each side so adamantly believe theirs to be true that they refuse to associate with the other side. This, I think, brings more shame than anything else. Salvation is not dependent on sexuality. It is dependent on Christ. I’m not saying that homosexuality is a trivial topic — it is important — but it is not essential.

In the end, God will judge. Perhaps one side will be wrong and one will be right. Perhaps neither, or both, in a way we cannot yet comprehend. In the meantime, instead of examining people based on their sexuality, maybe we should look to their deeds according to the fruit of the Spirit. That is a truer test than any of spiritual wisdom and maturity.

Final note: In my internet travels I discovered many, many helpful articles and blogs. I would love to list all of them, but memory and space will not permit it. But I wanted to at least link to the following bloggers. I hope one day I get to honor them personally with the respect and love that are due them for holding fast to Jesus in spite of everything.

Articles:

• “The Best Research Yet” (Christianity Today) — Basically a magazine-size summary of the work that Jones and Yarhouse have done researching the ex-gay movement.
• “Sexuality and Slavery (part 3)” by Peter Ould — Study of the word arsenokoites from a conservative standpoint.
• “Gay By Choice? The Science of Sexual Identity” (Mother Jones) – if you read only one of these links, make it this one – it puts forth the thought that science may actually be proving that sexuality is a lot more fluid than we think.

Blogs:

• Pursue God
• Disputed Mutability
• Adventures of a Christian Collegian (aka College Jay)

Books I plan on studying (in MLA format, just for kicks)

• Balch, David L., ed. Homosexuality, Science, and the “Plain Sense” of Scripture. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Pub. Co., 2000.
• DeYoung, James B. Homosexuality: Contemporary Claims Examined in Light of the Bible and Other Ancient Literature and Law. Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2000.
• Jones, Stanton L. and Mark A. Yarhouse. Ex-Gays? A Longitudinal Study of Religious Mediated Change in Sexual Orientation. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2007.
• Jones, Stanton L. and Mark A. Yarhouse. Homosexuality: The Use of Scientific Research in the Church’s Moral Debate. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2000.
• Pronk, Pim. Against Nature? Types of Moral Argumentation Regarding Homosexuality. Trans. John Vriend. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Pub. Co., 1993.
• Wold, Donald J. Out of Order: Homosexuality in the Bible and the Ancient Near East. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1998.

Reading: Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University, Kevin Roose; The World’s Last Night and Other Essays, C. S. Lewis
Listening: Fallen, Evanescence; Glee
Watching: Legend of the Seeker season 2 (*SOB* I can’t believe it’s over!! *SOB*); Lost (for some reason I’m not as torn up about this one); Bones; Glee; Enter the Dragon (woo Bruce Lee movies woo)
Playing: Diablo II (Finally! I beat the first one twice.)

Intuition vs. Truth or Intuition AND Truth?, pt. 1

The word “tension” sums up well the last few weeks of my life. Tension between wanting to stay and wanting to go, between keeping silent and speaking up, between resisting change and running with it. I secretly refer to these times in life as the growing pains of emotional puberty (though I often wonder if they ever end like their physical counterparts!).

I could write about any of the countless moments of the last two months or so, but one in particular has been burning in my brain for a while.

I’ve been a Jennifer Knapp fan since I heard “Whole Again” in high school. I became an even bigger fan about a year ago when I bought Kansas and listened to it nearly every day during a rough period in my life. I had reached a point where all my dreams about life and relationships came crashing down, and in my heartbroken state I fed hungrily of off Jennifer’s desperately honest approach to having a relationship with God. So in September, when she announced her comeback after a hiatus of eight years (which is basically a whole generation in the world of music), I was thrilled. “Yay! Someone who will remind us again that sometimes being a Christian is just hard.” I found her on Twitter, bought tickets to her Portland concert, and made note of her new album’s release date on my calendar.

My enthusiasm was not really dampened by the interviews in which Jen revealed her sexuality. I mean, frankly, I wasn’t that surprised, and besides, her music is outstanding. A Grammy nomination is nothing to shake a stick at, after all.

So a couple of weeks ago I went to her concert, looking forward to being refreshed by some new, good, honest music about being a Christian. What I found was very close . . . in fact, it was indeed new, good, and honest, and she talked about God and being a Christian . . . but somehow it didn’t mean the same thing anymore.

All three performers — Amy Courts, Derek Webb, and Jen — could definitely be called confessional singer-songwriters. And I love confessional — there’s a reason I chose Christina Rossetti for my work sample! Confessional keeps us honest, keeps us grounded, and most of all, reminds us of our proper relationship to God. Right?

I think Amy Courts captured it well when she stated bluntly, “Honesty is paramount.” Not Jesus. Honesty. Honesty with self and others. Honesty, meaning that if you feel something strongly, you need to declare it’s there and that you feel it. Most of the time, I can get behind this. But this time I just couldn’t.

I am not yet able to articulate as well as I would like why this attitude bothers me so much, but (if we’re gonna talk about being honest) I have the undeniable sense that something sacred has been inverted. It’s as if instead of honesty with self being used as an approach to God, the need for honesty in a relationship with God is being used to validate whatever feelings you may have. It’s honesty for the sake of honesty. And that simple shift of purpose changes the entire meaning of the music I loved so well.

This is exactly where I feel the point of tension. Honesty is good. Integrity is good. I love both of these dearly. Since I was young, the last thing I have wanted is for anybody to accuse me of being insincere. But what about when following your sincerity conflicts with what you’re supposed to believe? Do I stuff what I feel in order to remain orthodox, or do I chuck seeming orthodoxy in favor of an overwhelming intuition?

Ugh. I feel like I’m not explaining myself well. I think it’s my culturally conservative upbringing. I can’t help using the old lingo. What I am trying to say, though, has to do not with just theological difficulties, but with any seeming contradiction of intuition and what we perceive as objective truth.

If it seems like I haven’t finished my thought, it’s because I haven’t. Rather than write one long, wandering blog, I thought I’d break it up into two parts for all our sakes. So, what this all has to do with Jennifer Knapp: coming soon.

Reading: Stone of Tears (Sword of Truth #2), Terry Goodkind; I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced, Nujood Ali and Delphine Minoui; The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University, Kevin Roose
Listening: Details, Frou Frou, Glee
Watching: Public Enemies, Legend of the Seeker season 2
Playing: Diablo! I’m now a level 21 rogue on the 14th level or second level of Hell…

Blank

(Something I scratched out under the heavy influence of Rossetti, during a sad autumn day.)

Blank

I lifted my heart out of its box
To give to you for safekeeping
Not just a heart, but
Hopes, dreams, life, and love

You held on to it for a while
Not knowing what it was
And when you thrust it back at me
It shattered beyond repair

My box is empty now, you see
There’s nothing more to fill it
And now I wander soulless
Blank, and undefined

Reading: Wizard’s First Rule, Terry Goodkind; The World’s Last Night and Other Essays, C. S. Lewis; Desiring God, John Piper
Listening: Black Holes and Revelations, Muse
Watching: 9; Killer at Large: Why Obesity is America’s Greatest Threat
Playing: …aargh!

destination: graduate school

[This is the beginning of the long version. If you want to read the short version, scroll down...]

Since my first notification of acceptance or rejection (a yes from Claremont), I’ve received three more. University of Oregon wrote a polite letter saying that there simply was not enough room, and Rochester wrote a letter complaining about the lack of funding for graduate studies in English. And while I was at the comicon on Saturday, I finally received a notification e-mail from Portland State saying that I had been accepted, though without any scholarships. When I compared the numbers, Claremont came out to about $40,000 (including the fellowship) and Portland State was only about $15,000 — without any aid at all. A difference of $25,000 is pretty dismal and difficult to justify.

I spent the first 18 years of my life in Portland. It will always be my hometown; but though I love its hippieness, yuppieness, semi-greenness, and general weirdness, the prospect of returning made me feel rather despondent. But so did the thought of being in debt for the rest of my life. I’m a saver who was taught to never borrow money, not even for school or a car. Besides, would Portland really be that bad? It’s not Salem, for one thing. The art and music scene is pretty healthy. Since school would be cheap, I could go at my own pace and be free to do the other things I love, like playing music, getting involved in drama, or whatever I felt like. I wouldn’t have to worry about classes being too difficult. Basically, I could earn my masters – and accomplish a huge life goal – at a very low price.

Or a very high one. I would be saving money, it’s true. But I kept thinking about all the things I could be missing. Portland State would almost surely narrow my future academic opportunities, should I choose to pursue that path. Though Portland is a large city with a lot going on, I would feel stuck, and in a sense I wouldn’t have moved at all. And I would always wonder what would have happened if I’d taken that chance to finally challenge myself academically and live in a real big city — two things I’ve always dreamed of. Twenty-five thousand dollars is a high price to pay for a dream – but money is replaceable; time, however, is not.

I still went back and forth for hours, talking to my roommate and to my best friend, but I still didn’t feel right about either school. So I called up my teacher, an alum of Portland State who’s been gently but decidedly pushing me towards her former school. I was prepared to defer my hopes and listen to those older and wiser than me.

As it turned out, the decision did not rest on a pricetag. Instead, it was a simple question of what I wanted to do. I told my teacher that if I had to choose between being a teacher or being a writer, I would choose being a writer. So, while the quality of education at both schools is comparable, the network and opportunities at Claremont far outweighed the extra cost over Portland State. In other words, I will have a better chance at getting published with a name like Claremont on my CV.

[Here's the short version.]

So that’s it. I’m moving to L.A. in August.

I am so blessed by our great God. I can’t get over how much He loves to give. So many long-cherished desires are coming alive, together with the hope and knowledge that this is what should be happening. I look forward to the future, not just for the happiness and adventure, but also for the new things that God will do with me. Soli Deo gloria.

Reading: Desiring God, John Piper; American Born Chinese, Gene Luen Yang
Listening: Trouble, Bonnie McKee
Watching: Lost, Legend of the Seeker
Playing: …still need to finish LoZ!

Emerald City ComiCon 2010; and why I love cons

Before this last weekend I’d only been to the Portland cons — the Portland Comic Book Show and Stumptown. They’re small as cons go, though you will probably get to see Brian Michael Bendis, Aaron Lopresti, Randy Emberlin (all Portlanders), and maybe even Kurt Busiek if he can make the drive from Seattle. But besides that, there are only a few comic store booths, a handful of lesser-known writers and artists, and a lot of empty space. Also, the guy-girl ratio of attendance is about 7-3. So after going to cons faithfully in high school, I rarely went during college and pretty much stopped going altogether after graduation.

But when I heard Stan Lee himself was making an appearance at the relatively nearby Emerald City Con, I decided it was a pilgrimage I had to take. And when I got there I remembered why I love going to cons.

There is something about being surrounded by fellow self-proclaimed geeks that lifts the heart of a person. I was surprised how polite, friendly, and helpful people were. Saying “excuse me” in a place crammed like a Manhattan subway, cracking stupid jokes to complete strangers, giving directions in the line to see Leonard Nimoy…the camaraderie was refreshing…like Disneyland. Maybe that’s what Nerd Disneyland would be like. There were certainly enough costumes wandering around to make it so. Unlike tiny Portland cons where nobody dresses up, at ECCC you couldn’t look anywhere without spotting a cape or a mask. This was both delightful and regretful to me, because I had deliberately chosen not to wear my Lieutenant Athena costume for fear that it would be too nerdy. Well, there is no such thing as “too nerdy” at a con, I have learned. It’s quite the contrary. And for a $20 ticket, any nerd or geek can feel what it’s like to be normal for a few hours.

Me and an Ewok!

(If you want to see more pictures, I made a Facebook album.)

The first reason I started going to cons, though, was the chance to meet writers and artists — people I aspired to be like. One of the first times I went, I think I even wrote down questions to ask the creators I knew were going to be there. I always wanted to know how they got their jobs, why they wrote, and why they wrote for comics. I remember I was so thrilled when the editor-in-chief of Dark Horse Comics*, Scott Allie, offered to look at my work if I ever sent him a script. Since high school I’ve moved on from badgering creators with such life questions and worked on putting into practice the things they told me, but I still get a lot out of talking to them. This year wasn’t disappointing. I got my Ruse** and Kingdom Come books autographed by Mark Waid, who happens to be one of my favorites. I also got to meet Jill Thompson, who painted the first version of Great Expectations I ever read.

I guess I find cons inspiring. And every time I leave, I wonder how long it will be till I’m on the other side of the booth. I’ve loved comics as long as I can remember, and it would be a dream come true to write one that people actually read. Who knows? In the meantime, San Diego Comic-Con is around the corner…hmm, what costume this time?

Oh, I totally met Stan Lee. And got my picture with him.

Me and the Man. 'Nuff said.

* Did you know that Dark Horse is the fourth-largest comics publishing company, and it’s based in Milwaukie, Oregon?!

** Ruse is one of my all-time favorite comics. It’s a steampunk Sherlock Holmes kind of story, but with the romantic partnership element I have a weakness for. Also, it’s a CrossGen publication, which means that it was very good, but its survival was doomed from the beginning, sadly. Still worth a read, though!

Reading: Desiring God, John Piper; American Born Chinese, Gene Luen Yang
Listening: Trouble, Bonnie McKee (oldie but a goodie — I hope she does more stuff soon)
Watching: Legend of the Seeker (I’m absolutely head-over-heels for it. Can I PLEASE be Kahlan?!)
Playing: Uhh…nothing…need to beat LoZ!

a bit of good news; and some things I have learned about applying to grad school, pt. 2: gathering

Let’s not keep the good news waiting — I was informed by e-mail Thursday morning that Claremont has recommended me for admission to their master’s program in English. Woo! They’re also offering  a 25% tuition fellowship, which is not huge, but still significant. The quick turnaround time surprised me, since I only submitted it about three weeks prior. After checking thegradcafe.com, though, it makes more sense. It seems that most programs send out several acceptances and rejections the last week of February and the first week of March. The ones that they can’t decide on immediately have to wait until later in March, or even April. Anyway, it’s my first official yes or no. I’m excited about being accepted, but it’s more strange to me that things are actually happening!

So back to the application process. And it is very much a process, mind you. This next part is probably the one I most wish I had known more about when I was doing it, because it turned out to be far more complicated than I anticipated.

You would think that applications for English masters or Ph.D programs are pretty much the same, regardless of the school. They all require GRE scores, university transcripts, letters of recommendation, a letter of intent, a writing sample, etc. But that “etc.” throws in enough variance that each application demands your undivided attention. If I had known, I would have given myself two weeks for each application instead of just one week (this is me working two jobs). Half the time I spent putting an application together went to just figuring out the school’s exact requirements. For example: some schools need only one official transcript. Fine. But where do you send it to — grad department or English department? Some other schools need two transcripts. But only one official or two? One of the schools I applied to wanted not only an official set, but also a typed list of the English classes I took and my average English GPA. Not hard to type up, but several of these kinds of program-specific requirements add a lot of time and preparation to the process. Another example: letter of intent might sound like you just send the same letter about yourself to each school. But that is a BIG application no-no. While some parts of your statement may stay the same, each school wants to know why you would be a good fit for their program, not “generic English department program.” And admissions committees can tell if you’ve sent the same words to every program you’ve applied to. Again, not hard, but this necessitates a thorough study and understanding of each school’s program. I read the program handbooks of each department to get a feel for its goals and purpose. Some schools are nice and give you a list of specific questions to answer — and if they do, make sure you answer them!

I could list other things, but I think you get the idea. In sum, I would set apart not less than two weeks for each school you intend to apply to.* Be aware of deadlines. If you need to, write out what you need to send out and prepare for each program. Ironically, it’s not uncommon for English department websites (maybe other departments too, who knows) to be a bit unclear about some application requirements. That’s why they list contact info on almost every page. A lot of the people I wanted to contact seemed to be on vacation, so don’t wait to e-mail or call somebody if you have a pressing question.

* That’s for the actual applications. GRE scores, transcript requests, and requests for letters of recommendations should be sent out at least a month in advance.

Reading: Confessions, St. Augustine; Stones into Schools, Greg Mortenson
Listening: Muse, Glee soundtrack
Watching: Bones is on break until April (sniff sniff tear), so I must fill my time with other stuff, like Legend of the Seeker (don’t laugh, it’s great swords ‘n’ sorcery indulgence), United States of Tara (AMAZING show by Steven Spielberg, Diablo Cody, and Toni Collette), and When Harry Met Sally… (how have I not seen it before?)
Playing: Legend of Zelda, sort of; need to start Diablo soon, though