StumbleUpon is a great way to lose hours of your life. Luckily, I braved the Internet vortex so you don’t have to. This week I found these especially interesting websites:
There are Two Kinds of People
These cute little drawings highlight the (often technological) ways we differ. I found myself cringing throughout this post–how can people leave notifications on their apps??
Clever Tips to Make Your Life Easier
These suggestions are genuinely helpful, from increasing phone volume by placing in a bowl to downloading YouTube videos with a simple hack.
How I Can Afford My Life of Constant Travel
Blogger Wandering Earl gives a detailed list of 12 years worth of travel–where he went and how he picked up odd jobs to get him to the next destination.
Apps to Watch
Ten new apps to consider downloading, whether you like photo editing, pruning trees, cooking eggs, or finding wi-fi.
I haven’t read Kinsella’s Shopaholic series, but after Finding Audrey, I think I need to! I loved Kinsella’s humor, inclusion of pop culture, and honest portrayal of mental disorders.
Audrey suffers from a host of anxiety disorders after a (presumably) horrendous bullying experience. Although I understand the right of a person to not have to share why they struggle, it’s a book! I want to know why! This was the one thing I didn’t like about the story. I can only assume Kinsella thought that no matter her description of bullying, some reader would scoff that it wasn’t that bad. As it is, our imaginations are free to run wild.
While Kinsella doesn’t tell us exactly what caused Audrey’s panic attacks and anxiety, she does a phenomenal job showing how these disorders play out in her life. Kinsella doesn’t glamorize her anxiety, nor does she make Audrey into a caricature of a human being. Instead, she honestly describes the fear, growth, and healing that comes in a person working through their issues with the help of a loving family and a knowledgeable counselor. And a cute boy. Because it is a YA novel, and cute boys never hurt. Continue reading →
In Dallas, my church’s small group spent one summer letting each member lead a discussion based upon their favorite psalm. It was a great experience, both because I learned more about one of my favorite books in the Bible and because I learned about my fellow group members. The psalm chosen, the way it was presented, how they taught–all helped me get to know my friends a little more.
One member of our group was a middle-aged man who chose two psalms and one poem, then had us create a triple Venn diagram to analyze their similarities and differences. He’s a teacher.
All three were melancholy but hopeful, which is exactly my poetry aesthetic. We talked about waiting, and being still, and how to trust God when it seems like there are no answers. We read Psalm 130, Psalm 131, and Nondum by Gerard Hopkins. It’s a bit lengthy, but I encourage you to read the whole thing, paying attention to the longing behind every word.
God, though to Thee our psalm we raise
No answering voice comes from the skies;
To Thee the trembling sinner prays
But no forgiving voice replies;
Our prayer seems lost in desert ways,
Our hymn in vast silence dies.
We see the glories of the earth
But not the hand that wrought them all:
Night to a myriad worlds gives birth,
Yet like a lighted empty hall
Where stands no host at door or hearth
Vacant creation’s lamps appal.
We guess; we clothe Thee, unseen King,
With attributes we deem are meet;
Each in his own imagining
Sets up a shadow in Thy seat;
Yet know not how our gifts to bring,
Where seek Thee with unsandalled feet.
And still th’unbroken silence broods
While ages and while aeons run,
As erst upon chaotic floods
The Spirit hovered ere the sun
Had called the seasons’ changeful moods
And life’s first germs from death had won.
And still th’abysses infinite
Surround the peak from which we gaze.
Deep calls to deep, and blackest night
Giddies the soul with blinding daze
That dares to cast its searching sight
On being’s dread and vacant maze.
And Thou art silent, whilst Thy world
Contends about its many creeds
And hosts confront with flags unfurled
And zeal is flushed and pity bleeds
And truth is heard, with tears impearled,
A moaning voice among the reeds.
My hand upon my lips I lay;
The breast’s desponding sob I quell;
I move along life’s tomb-decked way
And listen to the passing bell
Summoning men from speechless day
To death’s more silent, darker spell.
Oh! till Thou givest that sense beyond,
To shew Thee that Thou art, and near,
Let patience with her chastening wand
And lead me child-like by the hand
If still in darkness not in fear.
Speak! whisper to my watching heart
One word-as when a mother speaks
Soft, when she sees her infant start,
Till dimpled joy steals o’er its cheeks.
Then, to behold Thee as Thou art,
I’ll wait till morn eternal breaks.
I grew up arrogant, assuming I could know the entire truth of God. Now that I am growing up, I find comfort in the mystery and agony, the “abysses infinite surround the peak from which [I] gaze.” I long more and more, not for answers, but for the One who will lead me “if still in darkness not in fear.”
I’m grateful to my Dallas small group for many things, and this poem is definitely one of them.
Iceland is one of the most bizarrely beautiful, arrestingly empty, and quirkily minded countries I have ever been to and you should go there.
Ok so now that we have that out of the way, some things to know for when you decide to go (because I know you will)!
If you are going to go explore the Ring Road, you must rent a car. It’s undoable by bus, and incredibly dangerous to do it by bike, and when you rent your car, for godsake get a jeep. Don’t scrimp here and try to save money by getting a small car, get the biggest, baddest, four-wheel drive monster truck they got. A lot of the places off the main highway that you will want to go see require miles of unpaved trekking that at some points of the year are actually impassable because of what their insane weather has done to the roads. You don’t want to come all this way to Iceland and get stuck in frozen mud in your little inexpensive Honda Accord now do you?
Speaking of getting to Iceland at all, check out Wow Airlines. That’s right, it’s not some terrible English translation gone wrong, it’s actually called Wow. It’s sort of like the Ryan Air of Iceland, only way more reliable. Even locals take flights with them. You can get a flight from Boston or DC for $175 round trip, and no, you are not reading that wrong. Price doesn’t have to keep you from going on this trip! Plus it’s just fun to say.
Speaking of arriving on Wow airlines, you will fly into Reykjavik. Oh wait, no, sorry, you think you will, but then you’ll land in Keflavik and be confused, like I was. Keflavik is where the airport is and it’s a 45-minute bus ride into Reykjavik, so just know that so you don’t freak out, like this one did. DO NOT take a taxi. No one does because it will cost you a month’s rent to take a taxi from Keflavik airport into downtown Reykjavik. Everyone zips around on a bus, and you should too. It’s like $7, you will most likely sit next to a brooding Nordic musician coming back from his vacation in Spain and you will fall in love for the first of many times on this trip. Take the bus.
Reykjavik has the best/craziest nightlife I’ve ever seen. You can check out what is going on in the city at all times of the day through a free and very entertaining publication called The Grapevine. It has listed, by day, all the bands playing, all the shows showing, all the DJ’s spinning, all the artshowsrestaurantopenings
tourshappeningbooksreleasingpartiespartying that you could want to know about. And if you go during the summertime, even if you are not a night owl, you will find yourself at a bar at 1 am and it will not be dark yet, and you will be, curiously, not tired. Just keep an eye out for all the inevitable bachelor parties from London that just arrived.
Naturally you will want to make the most of your trip while you are there, so as an upstanding citizen of the world, you will bring a guide book with you. I brought Lonely Planet’s guide to Iceland, and my companions and I regretted it several times. We found at least 5 mistakes, and then we just sort of stopped believing the book. And that’s not what you want when that book is your lifeline to understanding how to get out of The Middle of Nowhere, Iceland, where you find yourself at least once a day. Unfortunately there isn’t a great alternative, as Rick Steves has said he is not going to make a book for Iceland. I cannot tell you how much that breaks my heart, as my heart belongs to Rick Steves and every travel tip he’s ever given. The point is, do your research before you go, and consult multiple sources when making your travel plans.
Speaking of The Middle of Nowhere Iceland, that is nowhere you want to be when you have run out of gas. A good general rule of thumb is when you see a gas station, stop and fill up, even if you did it only an hour ago. There were times we drove literally all day and didn’t see a gas station. It’s terrifying, yes, but there’s no point in them installing them when there are so few people who go out to these remote places, much less live in them. Also be aware that half the gas stations you will see will just be a solitary pump in the ground, no store to go into with a bathroom, and no person manning a cash register should you not be able to figure out how to pay for the gas or put it in your car. Buy the little plastic gas cards that come preloaded with money on them, and figure out how they work while you are still in Reykjavik where there are people to ask.
Bring hiking boots with you. It is actually impossible to see Iceland without them. Sneakers are not an acceptable substitute. If you are the kind of person who either hasn’t seen the need for hiking boots thus far in your life, or turns up your nose at the thought of them, seriously. Iceland is not for you. If I could have packed any differently I would have probably just brought two pairs of shoes, my hiking boots and some cute booties to walk around Reykjavik in so the aggressively fashionable models who all live there wouldn’t judge me. Tennis shoes are obsolete, and any kind of sandal won’t protect your tootsies from the shocking weather. Even my sturdy Birkenstocks felt flimsy, and that is the last word any person who has seen a Birkenstock would normally associate with them.
Given a week or so, you will feel that you are the sort of person who could pull off those big wool sweaters all the burly, adorable fishermen/poets wear, like Gunnar, who you recently fell in love with, and you will find yourself wanting to buy one of those sweaters. Be forewarned that the cheap ones run about $180. Yes they are cool, yes they transform you into an intellectual looking farmer, and who doesn’t want that, just be prepared for what it will cost you and for the fact that it is probably hot where you live at home, and those sweaters are so intense it is said that a fisherman wearing one can fall in the water and not even get wet. You, on the other hand, will drown in it at home. Maybe buying woolen socks is a good alternative.
A cheap beer in Reykjavik costs $9. And that’s their equivalent of Bud Light. Anything imported, and they have to import a lot of stuff, is going to be expensive. So be smart and get little liquor bottles in duty free to take with you on your way in.
See the puffins in Vik, and the black beaches.
Take a picture with a lamb.
Ask a local where the nearest ‘hot pot’ is, and go find it.
The Blue Lagoon is worth it, even if its touristy, and you can easily fit it into your trip by taking your visit a few hours before you get on your plane home, as its very close to the airport. You will be all refreshed and relaxed for the trek ahead of you, zenning you out for your transition back to life in America, where there are no puffins or hot springs or cool beaches.
Wait, none of that last part is true. There are puffins in Maine and hot springs in Colorado and cool beaches in Florida…go to Iceland and have the time of your life, and then go back to wherever it is you live and make it a point to enjoy where you are! The world is beautiful wherever you go. Iceland just happens to be one of the prettiest places out there.
Michal Ann Morrison is a traveler, writer, and lover of books and restaurants that serve cheese plates. When she is not in her home base of Austin, Texas, she is traveling the Mediterranean working in archaeological research. You can follow her adventures on instagram at @michalann!
Theodicy is the theological term for “the problem of evil.” It is, essentially, a defense of God when someone asks, “How could a good God allow evil to exist?”
When I studied theodicy in church and in seminary, I often felt disconnected from the reality of the discussion. Sitting at a table, it’s easy to defend God’s goodness. There are graphs and outlines and quotations. Everything is sanitized, kind of like this video describing Augustine’s famous solution to the problem of evil.
It’s all very logical and intellectual, and while safe at my privileged desk, I agree with the theology. But there has always been a deeper part of me, ruled by emotion, that rebels. I don’t care that God must allow evil in order to preserve free will. How can God be powerful and good when animals are killed so that humans might be fashionable, prisoners are raped so that power might be asserted, and wars destroy people, homes, and countries, so that feuds might be settled? When children are cowering in corners watching Daddy throw Mommy down the stairs in their pretty suburban house?
Theodicy answered my intellectual questions. But it could not satisfy the horror in my heart. I knew how a good and powerful God could allow evil, but….how could a good and powerful God allow evil?!
Emotion must be answered by emotion, and emotion is best conveyed with music and with story. The opening chapter of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion gave me both. Entitled “The Music of the Ainur,” Tolkien presents a creation narrative similar to the one in the Bible, with some noticable differences. In The Silmarillion, God (here named Eru Ilúvatar) creates the Ainur, who in turn create the world. These angelic equivalents carry out their task of creation by singing into existence the will of Ilúvatar. Be forewarned – I will quote from the book extensively. I could explain the plot instead of allowing it to speak for itself, but explaining is intellectual, and the emotional power of story is in its telling.
And it came to pass that Ilúvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed; and the glory of its beginning and the splendour of its end amazed the Ainur, so that they bowed before Ilúvatar and were silent.
Tolkien’s creation mythology has a perfect God creating a perfect world. His story also includes free will, since Melkor, the Lucifer equivalent, rebels against the Great Music Ilúvatar created.
But now Ilúvatar sat and hearkened, and for a great while it seemed good to him, for in the music there were no flaws. But as the theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matters of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Ilúvatar…straight-away discord arose about him, and many that sang nigh him grew despondent, and their thought was disturbed and their music faltered; but some began to attune their music to his rather than to the thought which they had at first. Then the discord of Melkor spread ever wider, and the melodies which had been heard before foundered in a sea of turbulent sound. But Ilúvatar sat and hearkened until it seemed that about his throne there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon another in an endless wrath that would not be assuaged.
The chaos of evil is sometimes too much for words to express. At a certain point, the sheer enormity of it all makes my brain shut down. But a raging storm of music? I can perfectly imagine that and feel the dread and confusion and terror it would evoke. Evil has entered the perfectly created world. What will God do? What can God do? Erase it, or start over, or…something else? Something more powerful?
Then Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that he smiled; and he lifted up his left hand, and a new theme began amid the storm, like and yet unlike to the former theme, and it gathered power and had new beauty. But the discord of Melkor rose in uproar and contended with it, and again there was a war of sound more violent than before, until many of the Ainur were dismayed and sang no longer, and Melkor had the mastery. Then again Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that his countenance was stern; and he lifted up his right hand, and behold! a third theme grew amid the confusion, and it was unlike the others. For it seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and profundity. And it seemed at last that there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Ilúvatar, and they were utterly at variance. The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other had now achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes…
Then Ilúvatar spoke, and he said: ‘Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will now show forth, that ye may see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.
It might be that Tolkien’s stories play exactly into the way my mind and heart are designed, but this story, more than any theodicy, gives me peace about the nature of God and the existence of evil. Zooming out to the big picture of creation acknowledges that evil consistently clamors for dominance and even seems to win it. But God is bigger than evil, and somehow the words “he that attempth this [evil] shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined” makes my heart sink into the most profound sense of peace.
There is evil in this world, and as Christians, we try to defend God’s honor against those in pain. While I am thankful for intellectual explanations, I cannot help but feel they are too often inadequate. Augustine’s powerful and good God who allows for evil in the creation of free will is distant and a little cold. But Eru Ilúvatar brings the world into existence with song, rises from his seat again and again and calmly assures his created servants that he has everything under control.
Emmy & Oliver manages to combine the contentment of best-friends-falling-in-love with the passion of strangers-falling-in-love. How? By having Oliver kidnapped by his dad at age seven and returned to Emmy’s life ten years later. It’s a little ridiculous, their lifelong love enduring through such chaos, but I loved it!
Although this is an unapologetically romantic book, I loved the psychological details revolving around Oliver’s conflicted feelings toward his dad and the overprotective reactions of Emmy’s parents. In fact, I really liked her realistic relationship with her parents as they struggled to let her grow up. I also loved her friendship with Caro and Drew, especially as they worked through the changes Oliver’s return makes in their relationships.
But mostly it’s a romance! And a really good one. Emmy and Oliver are so sweet with each other, weird and supportive and healthy in a way that YA novels often ignore. More stories where romance begins with friendship…and continues to be a friendship, even when the kissing starts! Continue reading →
StumbleUpon is a great way to lose hours of your life. Luckily, I braved the Internet vortex so you don’t have to. This week I found these especially interesting websites:
Sound Composition: Calm Thunder Storm
Want to enjoy the soothing sounds of rain and thunder without ruining your hair or soaking your shoes? This site is all the good without the bad!
Map of Literary Road Trips
How cool! Now you can relive the journeys of On the Road or Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance…or just hang this on your wall and look cool.
I Has a Bucket
HAHA, okay, this has no value apart from restoring some fond college nostalgia. Maybe it also has historical value, as one of the Internet’s first memes?
15 Books Every High School Student Should Read
I haven’t read six of the recommended books, but based upon the nine that I have, I think this list is a great starting place for choosing readable classics.
Halloween Costume Ideas – 50 Pics
Never hurts to plan ahead…especially if you’re going to create Princess Leia and R2-D2 costumes for little toddlers OMG!
I picked this up simply to cross off another title from this year’s Caudill award nominated books, and I wouldn’t have made it past the first couple chapters if I hadn’t assumed people liked it for a reason. The protagonist is a little wooden (although that’s definitely part of her genius personality), and I didn’t like the way paragraphs tended to be one sentence long.
BUT THEN. But then, Counting By 7s became something really beautiful. Middle grade books have the opportunity to delve into the darkest parts of life (grief, racism, poverty) and address them with simple optimism. This story was all of that, and it was so refreshing. It’s not that these issues are resolved easily, but every page is infused with hope. Whereas an adult novel might veer into something maudlin, Counting By 7s is fierce in its assertion that all things can be endured and overcome. I loved it. Continue reading →
I like following my friends on Instagram, but I LOVE following travel accounts that transport me to exotic locations one square picture at a time. The six Instagram accounts below top my list of favorites because of 1) the quality of their pictures and 2) the quantity of their pictures. I’m in the instant gratification generation, and I demand to see a a stunningly high quality new photo every time I turn on my phone! Thanks to these accounts, I can.
Enjoy the beauty, and start adding to your vacation destination lists!
@earthpix
(This is my favorite travel page on Instagram, hands down. Every single photo is absolutely stunning. If you only follow one of my suggestions, let it be @earthpix.)
@natgeotravel @tourtheplanet
When I first moved to Dallas and hung out with people for the first time, a lot of them assumed I was an extrovert. This absolutely astounded me, because my whole life previously had been defined by my shyness. Upon introspection, however, I realized they had a point. Over the last several years, I’ve learned how to smile, laugh, tell jokes and take attention. Now when I’m with friends, I’m usually loud and gregarious. I like to coerce other people into joining the fun, and the sillier the activity, the better. I started labeling myself an “outgoing introvert.”
I recently got sucked into the INFJ Tumblr tag abyss, where myersandbriggs caught my attention by saying INFJs are:
Most likely to mistype as: ENFJ
Why the mistype happens: Extroverted feeling feeds off the emotions of others, which means that INFJs require a great deal of social time in order to remain emotionally stable. This type is highly likely to appear extroverted to those around them, as they are most animated and enthusiastic when they are in the company of others.* Most INFJs are assumed to be ENFJs by others upon first meeting them.
Although I love my alone time and I will fight you for it, I do genuinely love spending time with friends. I crave it when I don’t have it. I don’t know if I would go so far as to say I require a “great deal” of social time, but I’m definitely most animated and enthusiastic when around other people.
Tumblr took me one step further when enfpexplosions said INFJs are not what people think we are:
It’s true. They’re social chameleons, like Mystique from X-Men, they can observe and take on the shape and form (behaviors and mannerisms) of any other type. At work, INFJs may look like INTPs (laid back geniuses) and socially, they may resemble ENFPs (charismatic idealists) or ESFJs (social organizers). Actually, they can seem like any type, depending on which side of their multi-faceted, multi-layered personality they want to show you in whichever social context you happen to be in. You may even think an INFJ is your type, since they like to frequently use the social tool called ‘mirroring’, which is basically observing and copying your mannerisms in order to gain rapport with you. For this reason and a lot of others, INFJs are notoriously difficult to type. The only sure way to know is to have someone take the test and confirm that they are an INFJ.
Also true! By this point I was feeling really good about myself, in that deep-seated way that comes from feeling understood. My mom always assumes I am confident and in control during stressful situations (the above “laid back genius”) when internally I am shrieking and panicking. When I gave a speech to the evaluators in Athens, they saw me as a “charismatic idealist” and wanted me to be a spokesperson for their organization, and the idea of repeating the experience made me want to crawl into a fetal position and cry. And a “social organizer”? I was recently asked to plan a party, and I immediately jumped into spreadsheet and phone tree mode. INFJs are often called chameleons for their ability to mimic other people’s “colors,” and I am definitely a chameleon.
But…all of this feels a little disingenuous. I started thinking about my angsty teenage poetry, and how I used to be fixated upon the idea that I was wearing masks all the time, that no one truly knew who I was. That, in turn, reminded me of a conversation I had a couple years ago with a man I respect. He asked why things hadn’t worked out between a guy I had briefly dated. I sighed and admitted that he had been interested in the Outgoing and Witty me, and he had bailed when I showed my quieter, slower self. The man asking said, quite logically, “Well, maybe you should just be yourself when you’re with someone.”
And he’s right. The only problem is, I am being myself when I’m witty and outgoing. I’m just also being myself when I hole up in my room with Netflix, coffee, and my cat. Who I am, according to INFJ studies, is: a person who can be anything. Because empathy is at the core of my personality, I adapt myself to be like the people I’m around. I want to connect with people, so I bring out my silliness, or my philosophy, or my sarcasm, depending on who I am with. I’m not faking anything. A chameleon who shifts from being blue to yellow never stops being a chameleon. Instead, its identity is based upon its ability to do exactly that.
I love learning other people’s “colors.” When I was a shy kid, it was empowering to learn how to imitate an extrovert’s “red.” I love navigating social puzzles and feeling the satisfaction of knowing I can make anyone feel like they fit in. It’s a valuable social skill. Although some people see just one facet of me and are uninterested when I change colors, my closest friends and those I feel most comfortable around are the ones who love me all the time, no matter what background I’m blending into.
It Is Trish 
