kitsch

I find it odd that at the end of the year it's compelling to review, package up, and file it away. But I do it every year. Remember back in the days when xanga was the old facebook? Every year there are new years surveys that sweep the virtual world, asking vital and fascinating questions as to whether or not you have received a speeding ticket in the duration of the year or which of your friends or relatives have given birth. These were the questions that I thought would entice friends, to heighten my sagging personality, and make the blogging world do a double take on angsty me, Bri Suitt. I have always been this way. I'm more confident with my words than my skin. I feel bolder and wittier behind a computer screen or blank sheet of paper than I could ever be behind a class room desk or the counter of a coffee shop where the cute barista is waiting to be flirted with. I have found it to be rare to stumble upon such reviews by other desperately needy, like-minded survey filler-outers and find them intriguing. Or just bearable. My suspension of disbelief can only go so far until I start realizing these people really are not as enviable as they are making themselves seem. Obviously I believed my reviews were exempt from such eye rollers. I must get it off my chest that all those years of blogging my year review were really just an excuse to be noticed by someone. Even though that someone was usually just Eli, a big time gamer and pyromaniac from Atlanta with a voice resembling Kermit the frog and whose pants always suggested an impending flood. But still. At least Eli read my crappy thoughts. Plus, I could always reinvent him, which I usually did, pretending he wasn't unsettling and geeky but instead, beautiful and mysterious.

But why do I do this? Why must I crave attention so? I blame this fault on many things, middle child syndrome being the largest culprit. Really, I believe the desire to be known is one of those things that throbs out of the heart of every one, every where. But maybe not. Maybe I'm passing off owning up to my personal flaws to every single person on the planet. Even now, this very moment I'm suppressing the urge to talk about my year, about my adventures of living in Missouri, that I have a new cousin that was born a few hours ago, how I almost changed my major, or that I nannied a kid with asperger syndrome who gave me one of his drawings, how I landed a cool photography internship, how I was daring and caught a duck and let it loose in a dormitory or shaved my head, or that I got hit on by a junior higher, who wrongly pegged me as a cougar of sorts. But I'm not going to indulge that desire. Because not only have I realized that other people find rare entertainment out of it but they leave reading such indulgences thinking you're egotistical -and rightly so. Plus I'm above this. This time you're going to have to grovel about my year.

I'm already hating not telling you about my year. Part of me wants to show you the beautiful and mysterious parts of my year, like my imaginary Eli -the parts that if pieced together just so, make me seem effortlessly adventurous, adorable, independent, and intriguing. There's another part of me begging to just reveal how god awful I am -to confess to the empty blog world all this crap I'm dealing with all because it's my fault and no one else's. I have a raw desire to just spill a stream of nasty disappointment because well, that's me. But there's a middle ground that I'm teetering ever so carefully on right now. I think it's called the truth but I won't know until I read this a year from now and either roll my eyes or sigh confidently. But here it is.

Really, I'm just trying to figure out how to be content, to like the skin I'm in, love well the people in my life, to focus on my passions, to be a godly woman. Goodness, some days I'm just trying to figure out how to not disappoint. The whole attention thing is my band-aid to the gaping wound. God is showing me where I need to quit trying to impress myself with the barbie band-aid and just take it off and and take a big wow at the festered and seeping boo boo. How do you allow yourself to be okay with not being okay and trust God with the nuts and bolts of your dismembered self? That's where I am -at the intersection of 2009 and 2010. My prayer is next year I'll be past that. That there will be an unspoken confidence in my relationships with others, that when I spend time with God I will be less constrained to my flaws that keep me from kissing his feet, and that I will live with more intentionality. This sounds well in type but I know that I know it's going to be messy in reality. It always is. You want to know why? Because I'm a mess. That's what Eli said.

happy new year, friend.

kenny burris died this morning.
i'll never get used to death.

Evangelical theology has been tedious, to be perfectly honest. I feel like nothing more could be fleshed out about the incarnate Christ (no pun intended) and today I struggled to keep the eyelids from fluttering to a closed stop. To begin my 50 minute battle with my old foe I picked up my favorite ink pen and began to draw petty objects, or rather, petty representations of objects. It's a common ritual for me. This particular professor posed a question that irritated me. Why does one ask questions that are circular arguments? And obviously, if this question is being posed in the fall 2009 Evangelical Theology class in section B, I'm sure it's an argument that has been ongoing well before the establishment of this class at John Brown University. Anyway. As he posed this question, I looked up to hopefully shoot him a subtle, respectful (ha) look that would seem to say, "Are you sure you want to ask this? Carefully examine before answering." But before I threw out my self nominated award winning look, something caught my attention. My intent eye strayed from his face but for a second only to behold a very odd object fastened to his body.

Let it be known, this professor is a hybrid of sorts. I knew this even before enrolling in one of his courses. His subject of interest is the outdoors and he teaches all of the outdoor leadership classes and frequently works at camps in his spare time. I always found it strange that this incredibly timid, introverted man was the outdoor leadership go-to, as well as a biblical studies, much less a professor. I wonder if people such as himself had always planned on going into education. I would find it a bit oxymoronic in his case. Even when he speaks there is a reluctancy to let the words fall out of his mouth. He seems to ponder each word before allowing them to form into a command, fact, or joke. On any given day it's endearing or trying.

Sure, it was just a belt but the azure and burnt orange flashes of color must have been the factors of my optical bunny trail. This man only wore neutral colors. I would put money on his undergarments and pajamas being some variation of an oatmeal or bambi brown shade. Maybe a ever-green to spice things up. But this belt! I tried not to be obvious but I could not figure out what was going on that strap. Sure enough, as he inched a little closer to a self-denying peeping tom, I made out a continuous mountain range tiling around his waist with a very vibrant sunrise behind it. Atypical was my initial thought. So, that was a lie. Ridiculous might have been more accurate. I then proceeded to thoroughly piece together his outfit. I noticed he wore a nice, pastor-y looking collared cotton shirt in an appropriate night sky blue and poison ivy green - kind of like those long sleeved golf shirts, whatever their Christian name is. His small spectacles, polished brown shoes and neatly trimmed goatee affirmed the general Bible professor look well. I then noticed his pants. I'm sure they were hiking pants, as little as I know of such things. But they were of a fancy khaki windbreaker like material with zip offs that would leave some assuredly scandalous sun-forsaken thighs in sight. He made the wise decision to keep his options open by leaving the zip offs on, for which I was grateful.

My thoughts of ill posed questions over the peccability or impeccability of Christ had totally exited my mind as had my chance of winning that award for the most thought provoking look. I was fine with that, initially because I was amused by a fifty-something professor who had no fashion sense. But as soon as that thought green-lighted into my conscious, I immediately caught its error.

This man, as withdrawn and confused as he may seem, had perfectly described to me a bit of who he was. Neither of his jobs seem to really fit. I'm sure he doesn't exactly mold well with the rest of the biblical studies faculty. Of course someone as quiet as him would love the silent beauty of nature and the Bible enough to drag his knowledge and thoughts out for others so they could discover them too. Though introverted and quiet, today he said loudly, this is who God has created me to be. The belt was definitely the thesis of his statement. What else could that man have worn that would have surmised better of who he was? It kind of made me want one.

I'll have to keep my eye out for a belt with different countries on them with famous pieces of art and jumbo treble clefts. Maybe it should be one of those 3D belts so all of the elements can jump out at any given moment and demand someone else to examine the grins of who God has made them to be.

I'm between just completing a paper over how Jacopo da Pontormo's painting "Entombment" relates to both the incarnate and divine Christ for evangelical theology and a paper over my documentary film idea to be submitted and voted over in class tomorrow. I've decided to seize the moment and hash out a bit of my life. Two things come immediately to my mind:

1. Glee has been such fun to watch this semester. It's the first semester I've allowed myself to watch TV since being at college and it's be so fun. There are a lot of reasons I believe this show works and I've already discussed them at length with my roommate, Swys. I don't feel like rewriting them. Sorry.

2. As the weather gets cooler, I find myself getting lonely. It happens every year. It's like a form of mild seasonal depression or something. Right now the only thing that sounds good is snuggling up in a hoodie, with apple cider in one hand, and someone else's hand in the other. I think I've unconsciously romanticized the fall and seem to find a lacking contentment without my fantasies, although I did indulge on an apple cider at Starbucks late last week. That was nice.

I'm quite honestly overwhelmed this semester with school and my internship but I love all the people time allows me to interact with. I've become closer with my bosses, Jonathan and Becky and love doing photography with them. They always are laid back and are quick to affirm my abilities. It's been a great learning experience. I love my roommate. She's just a little hippie and we have bonded over a love of music, cultures, fruit enhanced oatmeal, and of course, art. I love all of my old friends who have been a blast catching up with and seeing how our friendships have taken different turns and how exciting that is. I've loved meeting JEPhotography clients and getting to be a part of some of the most special times in their lives. All have been so kind.

Right now, I'm sitting in my unmade bed with my jam packed planner and texts books atop. My carpet needs vacuuming, dishes needs washing, clothes need hanging. I could have done all this tomorrow morning, but I've decided to babysit a friend/classmate's little two year old instead so she can clean house and do laundry without interruption. I can't wait! Straightening up my life however, will just have to.

Back to finishing my treatment for non-fiction film. I may get to bed before 1:00 AM this week! Yay! ;)

Cheers Beards and Banjos,

Bri

I was thinking how sometimes it's easy to hold onto things for too long and what a heartache that is. Maybe there is security in pain, a sort of contentment in lack of control. Sometimes the most triumphant moments are so ordinary, to question its significance would seem like folly.

And with one word, one gesture, one thought, the moment is gone.

Oh, but the absence of its silent weight! It would be a rarity for anyone else to notice; besides, nothing really changes except a lighter breath, a more reassuring smile, a peaceful wink of slumber, a more confident thought of the future.

Yesterday I finally threw mine away in a trashcan outside of a gas station in Jefferson City.