Thanksgiving

Well, this is the all-American week. Food, football, shopping--Thanksgiving.

But I'm not really here to talk about that.

Last Sunday was one of my favorite feast days in the church: The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. Don't close the page just yet!

Let me tell you why I love this feast day. We celebrate it as the last Sunday of the liturgical year and it's that one day when we just stand in awe of Christ as well---THE KING OF THE UNIVERSE, in all his majesty and power, true to his being GOD. It's a day to reflect on how (almost terrifyingly) powerful and mighty He is, a day to do this:

because our God is an awesome God. A day that reminds us that He will come again in glory and it's going to be UH-MAZE-ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING.

But, I always find this day a rather humbling one for me, and that's the reason why I want to link it to Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is supposed to be a day of--err----giving thanks. This has been a rough year, to say the least, especially in the last four months or so. But I'm not here to complain, at least not today.

Now, when I take into account all the good things that have happened to me, not just this year but my whole life, I am rendered speechless. That the King of Kings, the God of the Universe, the Alpha and Omega, has bothered in his greatness to look down on me, who am nothing, and give me all that I have, leaves me breathless. I have a precious family, I have health, I was allowed to have an education, and I have not gone hungry or homeless for one day of my life. Moreover, He graciously allowed me to come here, to this country, out of a complete unnecessary whim, to continue studying, to meet some of the most wonderful people I've met in my life, and to have a shot at growing up (about time). All this coming from the Guy who has a whole infinite universe to worry about.

AND YET

Having all the power, all the glory, all the might, He chose to become a man in order to save me from my own inequity, imperfections, ugliness. He decided to make himself known to me so that I could discover how much He loved me and so that my heart could find in Him the love it so incandescently wished to give. He died in the most humiliating, horrendously slow death possible so that I could live, and He humbled himself to the point of becoming a piece of bread so that we could be united physically, mentally, and spiritually. The King made flesh, the flesh made bread. How can I not stand in awe?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7qLNDGTm-E

Things are not easy nowadays. I'm struggling more than I dare to admit, particularly with adapting to school mode. But knowing that Jesus, God incarnate, knows me, cares for me, and loves me unconditionally is such a relief. If I fail at this, He will still love me. If I succeed, it will all be because of Him. I am not even close to perfection, as this blog can attest, but I like to think that after many many attempts by Jesus to shatter my blindness and break my stubbornness, I can see this truth clearly.

Thank you, Lord.

My life is a Sitcom called I LIVE WITH FIVE MEN

Well, I have not been writing as much. I thought that it was a good idea to write shorter blog entries because I was losing my readership. It turns out that, according to my very lazy source, the blog has become less interesting since I stopped writing as much--which is crazy, because this guy hates to read.

Anyway, this brings me to today, when I, instead of doing my homework, am here, staring at the screen. Let me tell you, then, about how my life has turned into a sitcom because...


I LIVE WITH FIVE MEN.

Yes, it seems that God thought it funny to play this prank on me, knowing how I always preferred to hang out with my boys when I was a child/teenager. Being a tomboy, the whole girly thing didn't quite suit me, so I always found myself playing football (or hockey with brooms or basketball without a hoop or baseball without gloves) with my guy friends. I was the faithful friend who held the bad guy as my buddy beat the crap out of him. I was the gentle soul who punched a kid in the eye because he was trying to grab my little cousin's leg under the water at a pool of the hotel we were staying for vacation. Yes, I was that marimacha, with the long t-shirts, the football jerseys, the baggy shorts, the pony tail, the sweaty face ('big cheeks' should have been my nick-name--but it was just Cris, which is manly enough and has stuck with me ever since).



I knew how to dribble a ball, ride a bike, spit, build a treehouse.  Of course, that included never EVER admitted you liked boys (to be fair, I didn't like boys until I was old as hell).

However, I was never boyish enough to join the torturing of small animals, pick my nose, or scratch my---well, you get it.

Anywho, so it seems that after I bloomed (late) into womanhood, I had stirred away from so much masculine company and had preferred "the ladies." This "blooming", by the way, took a whole ovary removal surgery, which is also quite the humorous joke from God. I was seventeen years old when I FINALLY started moving into some kind of semi-girly stage, mainly because I couldn't do this anymore without my knee going crazy:

Of course this was always the question:

BLA BLA BLA, YEARS PASS. THEN BOOM--God's like "LOL, YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE FUNNY? IF I GET THIS FEMINIST/ OLDEST SISTER/ RECOVERING TOMBOY INTO A FLAT WITH FIVE GUYS. YES, THIS SHALL BE FUN..."

Now, that I finally shop in the women's section--by myself. Now, that I buy shoes that are not sneakers. Now, that I do crafty things! SERIOUSLY?


The results? Disastrous, at least for me.

1. Pirate mouthiness.

2. Grotesque understanding of double meaning.

3. Anything you say can be used against you because

4. Housewife slavery without the benefits of five men's incomes.

5. Mrs. Pattmore duty all day e'eryday.

6. Unleashing of my political incorrectness.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FPZxBRWnjM

7. Even less patience--if that's possible.

8. Everybody and their mamma knows when I am on my period.

9. Colitis.

10. Zero girl talk--zero obsessing over Danny Castellano/John Thornton/Mr. Darcy/Bradley Cooper and, of course, zero telenovela talk.

I spend half of my day cleaning the filthy-ass kitchen, washing dishes, sweeping, and moping. These pigs can leave a plate out with food residue for A WEEK--yes, yesterday I just decided to throw away a bowl that had sweet potato leftovers instead of washing it.... F*** that. See? And I'm turning into a worse cursing machine that I already was! And, because of my stupidity, now everyone says "that's what she said" about EVERYTHING! Like, seriously, none of them had watched The Office... I could have been so happy, untainted innocence and all.

ALAS! 'Tis too late.

I am a mother of four grown-ass men and the other one is too terrified of me to ever do anything wrong. I get texts like this:

This is from a man who is doing a Masters. Imagine when his future wife's water breaks. WEKJASEKFJASFJASDLFJASDFJAS;DFKASDKLFJADFGVADVJ *FAINTS*

Naturally, this situation translates into:

Shall I introduce the protagonists of my sitcom to you?

BHANU
a.k.a. Jerk

Need I say more? There's a whole blog entry about him in this blog. Poor thing is very proud of his calzones with the map of London on them. Smart, business-oriented (heartless) Indian guy who is trying to turn me into a salesperson for his business endeavor. Begs others for food. Doesn't shower enough. But he was the only person to come to my football game (even though he was taking pictures of the grass and the football all along).


RAJA
 a.k.a. Lampshade

Bhanu's BFF and potential new housewife. Ever since he arrived, they seem to have more arguments than Bhanu and I ever did. Nice, polite, all-loving dude. Just very cheap. Very appreciative of when I make something vegan. Sometimes talks too Indian to be understood.

RIDWAN

 the alias is too vulgar for here.

don't know how to turn the photo.

Nigerian guy who questions everything in an attempt to make something double meaning. Example:
me: eeew, it smells like ass here!
him: hehe, how do you know what ass smells like?

Need I say more? He is a gentleman of sorts, though, as he offered to pay for my fish-and-chips once.


STANLEY
a.k.a. "Stanny" because he can't pronounce the L.

I am sorry. I don't even have Stanny as a Facebook friend.

The only thing I know about Stanny is that he leaves a mess in the kitchen. He's not the most talkative guy.



KONRAD
a.k.a. Connard, according to Raja (deaf much?)

don't have a photo either. And he's not Irish. But kinda looks like this.

He's afraid I will scold him for making Mexican food wrong. But he is God-send because not only is he super nice, but he has a car!!! YAY! He just took me to Tesco and he just moved in like two weeks ago so I can't say anything bad--yet. He also cleans after himself.


Since this is a blog about viewing everything in a positive light (yeah right), let's draw the advantages of this situation.

1. No girl drama!!

2. Going back to being one of the boys!!

3. I am suddenly an amazing cook! Everyone loves my food that I just learned how to make five minutes ago.

4. I'm never the most politically incorrect person anymore.

5. The guys suddenly feel the impulse of making me tea or cooking for me and things like that. BRB, Bhanu just made me pasta (that I had to explain to him how to make).

6. I have fun.

7. There ain't no competition: I'm the Queen of this house, hommies! And that's my kitchen. And yes, I will make you a sandwich....

8. It's always awesome to tell people "I live with five men." That wins you hearts.

9. I got a gang protecting me. Don't worry dad, I'll be safe.

10. It brings out my feminine side even more. Somehow. I feel like I have to claim my femininity and cling to it desperately. Don't wanna go back to the spitting days.

LUMIERE

Yes, I did forget that I had a blog. I'm sorry ya'll. Things around here ain't going as smoothly as I wish they were.

BUT--THIS HAPPENED:

LUMIERE FESTIVAL WAS IN TOWN
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-tyne-24986009

here come my pics--I need a better camera.

what can I say? It was like nothing I ever have seen before. It was glorious, especially the Cathedral. Not so sad about Oxford turning me down, after all. :)

Cumbria, or "Everything They told you about the English Countryside is True and More"

Briefly: I went to a retreat this weekend. Nothing new, right? Wait.

I went to a retreat in the English Countryside this weekend. Let me tell you what that implied:

1. I lived here for two days

Is that Pemberley, you ask? Why, yes, yes it is. Mr. Darcy donated it to a bunch of nuns to establish a nursing home/convent called Boarbank Hall

2. And had a countryside walk that included being Elizabeth Bennet for 30 seconds (watch below from 36:36 to 37:00)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6bz0XivgOM

3. Three hours later, we had seen all this:

The shirt that has traveled around the world.

The town of Cartmel

Look at that date. That's right.

4. Insane amounts of tea (meaning just regular amounts of tea for British people). And biscuits. Oh, yes, in this room:

The Drawing Room is real

5. Very British meals that were delicious. And this happened:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOes8sJ-L4Q

I found myself being Mr. Collins and obsessing over the exact same potatoes.

6. We found a copy of Mrs. Gaskell's North and South that seemed to be so old, it might have actually been a first edition. So old indeed that it had no date of publication. That's one of my favorite books. And I'm actually supposed to be reading it right now for class on Tuesday.

one is never the same after John Thornton

I DO I DO I DO I DO I DO I DO

7.  I made really good friends. Enough said.

8. And, of course, you know I've got to get my Jesus on: we had a beautiful, prayerful weekend. We had spontaneous praise and worship for a couple hours last night. As I (per usual) freaked out about the future, the Lord answered me:

"Then he asked them, 'Why are you terrified? Do you not have faith?'" Mark 4:40
"Disregarding the message that was reported, Jesus said to the synagogue official, 'Do not be afraid; just have faith'." Mark 5:36

9. As I continued in prayer, I vividly remembered the last moments of my grandma's life: My mom was reading here psalms, and the last words she heard before dying were the following from psalm 23:

"You set the table before me
in front of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Indeed, goodness and mercy will pursue me
all the days of my life;
I will dwell in the house of the Lord
for endless days." (Psalm 23:5-6)

The house of the Lord, the one she had seen a few days before, lying down in that hospital bed, the house she was almost in ecstasy about. In that moment her face relaxed and she breathed no more.

Curiously enough, there's a new Audrey Assad song with exactly these words:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob9hC7CA3eU

I miss you so much, granny. A couple days ago I put on a t-shirt that I washed in your house in Guadalajara and it smelled like you, like the detergent you always used. I know where you now dwell and I know you are saving me a spot there, at the new Casa de mi Abuelita. I love you.

10. The glorious coast of the Irish Sea.