Pardon the sharply out-of-context quote.

Xanga is dead as far as I am concerned. Find me here instead. Y'all, that's hopeanne.blogspot.com

New blog template, new year.

On labor day morning I went swimming in the East River with my roommates, on a big moored barge called The Floating Pool Lady. I don't remember the last time a dip in a public pool was prefaced by the words "ready to board!" over a megaphone.

A more complete and panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline just isn't possible. And the glorious weather! Winter is a-coming, so the sun can pink my shoulders as much as it wants in the meantime.

The day closed well with a fabulous thriftstore find: a tailored, full-length cashmere/wool blend coat at the Roosevelt Island goodwill. $5. It happens that my roommates and I share a pair of shoulders. Or, at very least, ours were all bought in the same size, possibly at the same store. So we have a sisterhood of traveling jackets this year that will make us all look swank.

I have resolutions this year. A lot of them. I have an accountability partner too, but I keep sleeping through our scheduled morning meetings.

My time here in the city is half over. That means I'm on the homestretch. Already I feel a little bit sad that someday I will have to leave this idyllic life of abject poverty with gratis bread, circuses and a great view. Already I never, never want to leave.

A wise house sister mentioned something really interesting in sharing her life story the other day: the idea of effectively praying against yourself and your own desires so that God's will prevails. Waking up, maybe, and praying that God witholds from you and bars you from the very thing you will want later in the day. Hoping by lunchtime that God didn't listen, but returning the next morning to pray against your own will again.

I feel like God has been stacking wood on an altar in my life for awhile now. I can jump on and light up now or wait a long time to do it, but there's no way to get past or to move on until I face the flames. Dang it.

An interesting theory from a girl in my house, Jessica: "a lot of your personality is based on what got you attention when you were a kid." (I paraphrase).

I got attention when I did jigsaw puzzles. And maybe when I cracked jokes. This one is messing with my thinker.

I have to testify to God's faithfulness, because this winter, like every winter, might (will?) be lonely and full of doubts. During NSO this morning, watching the peerless professors at King's communicating the school vision like they do every year, I felt that I could barely suppress a simple, bubbly delight. It was like a confidence that a whole new group of people had been allowed to share--a "guess what? you have no idea what good stuff you're in for"--kind of secret.

Gah...senseless acts of beauty tend to make me uncomfortable.

But on the flipsyde, truth must be told, good praised, and God honored. Even if it does make me sound like a raving optimist.

Those in the front row, sorry about the spit.