oh life.

what happens when?

2011-10-02T23:54:00.000-07:00

..you don't have any answers.
..life doesn't slow down.
..you can't explain why you're disconnected.
..you don't know what you want or need.
..there are no words for things like school, pain, relationships.
..even sweatpants aren't comfortable enough.
..your capacity for situations is severely lower than what it has been before.
..it's impossible to snap out of it.
..you don't know what to say.

I know there's Jesus and all but...

2011-09-12T08:46:00.000-07:00

at zack's service I saw one of the most powerful displays of a father's love for his son.

his family chose to do a memorial skydive for zack at sunset, so his two brothers, sister-in-law, friends, and dad decided to jump.

zack's dad carried his ashes and spread them during his freefall.

we were all on the ground while this happened but could tell when he did so. we could see it. then, an hour or two later, they played back the video they took of it over the screen.

the scene of his dad releasing his son's ashes into the sky unnerved me. it was too much to take in. that his father would choose to do so in a way so honoring to his son who had skydived over a hundred times spoke so much deeper than words of how much he loved him. how willing he was to simply say with his actions, "son, I love you so much."

a father should not have to do this. he shouldn't have to carry his own son's ashes. but he did, and it was so powerful. thank you, fogle family, for how you decided to honor zack's life.

life & death

2011-09-09T13:19:00.000-07:00

on july 30th my friend zack passed away tragically in an accident that never should have happened.
on august 30th my sweet baby nephew jacob was born in an event we had been anticipating for months.

a month apart. tragedy and celebration. deep pain and inexpressible joy. life and death.

how am i here now, in the middle of both? I don't understand it, how both things could have happened a mere 30 days from each other. what does it mean that both occurred so close to each other, during my lifetime?

I can tell stories of zack, of how we met, what our friendship was like, and a bit of what it felt like to have someone in my life who cared for me more than I often care for myself. I can tell you the story of what it was like to be with my only sister as jacob was born.

but the events of both are really indescribable. the pain of not being able to have at least one last conversation with zack and the longing to simply hold and admire little baby j are both here. strong. it's meant that at a barbecue with friends I'll need to leave, go on a walk, and grieve. it's meant that even just before my first day back at classes this past week I've felt overwhelmed and not ready. it's meant that I'm having an even harder time deciding on doing the program in 3 or 4 years. it's meant that I've needed help to make decisions to care for myself, to get an extra day off work and to schedule another therapy session because I need someone to sit with me in all of this. it means that now, on this beautifully sunny day, i'm still lounging on my couch at 1 in the afternoon writing this blog, and i'm telling myself that it's okay.

zack's service is tomorrow night, and all i want to do is snuggle my nephew.

longing

2011-08-23T05:40:00.000-07:00

for two weeks in the philippines I'd wake just after 5am when the four older girls across the hall would wake up and make a racket as they started their chores. sometime between six and seven I'd go downstairs and see sweet lydia in the kitchen working on the meals for the day. she'd smile at me as I'd put my toast in the toaster instead of eating their usual rice for every meal. I'd say hello, smile, and she'd smile back. often she'd even bring me sweet delicious mangoes.

then I'd go check on the toddlers. sometimes they'd need a shower, other times help putting on their shoes for school, other times they'd still be running around naked and we'd have to chase them down. around eight we'd walk them across the field to school. little john carlo would always freak out if he didn't have someone's hand to grasp, and I loved when it was mine.

for lunch and dinner every day, every meal, it was chicken at rice. this was a given. rice, rice, rice. erin and I were always given a ginormous plate of it and never even finished a third of it. but we'd eat at our own separate table behind all the other kids because that's where they placed us. after a few days they'd give us coke at dinner as well, which was a lovely treat.

the kids got home from school at 4 every day. they'd play outside, do their homework or their chores, sometimes we'd color with them or push them on the swing. they just need love. hugs. lots of hugs. they need people to care for them, just like we all do.

after dinner we'd help with the toddlers again with the impossible task of putting them to bed. they'd be all fine and cuddly with you until 8 rolled around and you actually physically put them into their beds. that was always the least fun part. they'd cry and whine and throw fits and run all over the place. eventually we'd just have to leave the room because we were more of a distraction than help.

each day was like this. i knew what was coming and what i'd eat. i knew i could ask to go into town if i needed to or could take a nap when i needed a break. no cell phone or internet. it was delightful.

now, back in the states, how does this way of living transfer over? can life ever be simple here? my heart found some sort of mysterious, deep rest in the philippines that hasn't died yet. but it's wondering how to settle down here in my 'normal life.' I've started a new job and go back to school next week, so the task to maintain this inner rest is daunting. but it's there, whispering to me that it's possible, that it can be. my therapist said today that she felt that I was more home within myself than I have been before, and I actually told her that it's true.

the kids are caring for me, too

2011-08-03T22:53:00.001-07:00

I arrived to Manila after what certainly felt like forever. My butt had forgotten what it feels like to sit on a plane for over 16 hours. I got to the K.I.M. base and had an email that I never want to see: one from my parents saying only the words “call us when you have a chance.”

“Cori, I have some hard news to tell you. Zack died on Saturday in a skydiving accident. His chute didn’t open. I am so sorry” my mom told me once I finally found a phone. Those words keep ringing in my ears even now, days later, and I still wonder if it’s true.

I am thousands of miles away, in Malaybalay now, grieving the loss of a dear friend. One of the closest guy friends I’ve ever had, someone who cared about me so much, who stood by me even when I had walls up and wouldn’t let him closer. He and I were similar in many ways with our longing for adventure and our inability to ever really settle down. We’d always argue over who was more noncommittal.

What do I do with this loss, this heaviness in my heart for this friend I’ll never get to say goodbye to? What do I do with all of the unknowns of what our friendship really was, of why he died at only 27? What do I do with the care that I received from him, his kindness and warmth? How can this really have happened?

I cry, I grieve, I cringe as I think of how he died, I hurt for his dear family so much. I zone out and imagine his funeral and cry some more. I remember times we spent together and smile if only for a second. I feel the ache in my heart. It lingers and does not rest. It hurts.

I go then and play with the children here who I haven’t seen in nearly a year and a half. I lift up 4 year old Andrew, my boy and the main reason I came back. I tickle him and delight in his giggles and hugs. Glen Mark climbs up the couch and sits next to me, pointing to his books and saying “daa daa” over and over again. Little John Carlo and Mary Joy are two of the sweetest kids to be around with their deep brown eyes and long eyelashes. “Ate, Ate, what’s this? What’s this?” they ask repeatedly as they point to anything they can get their hands on.

I love on the kids, but have found that they are loving me as well. I am letting them. They are a comfort amidst my sorrow and pain. They too greet me with smiles, hugs, and laughs, and I let their warmth soothe my wounded heart. I feel that if I had to be away while this happened, this is the place for me to be. Where there’s not really any pressure but just a place for me to love and be loved, to care and be cared for, in one of the simplest environments I know. It’s where I have time and space to sit with myself, or if I am interrupted it’s only by sweet seven year old Rosalie who comes over and draws in my journal while I hold her in my lap. This, my friends, is therapeutic.

Zack, the words I have for my grief feel so incomplete. I never thought I’d say this, but I thank God for that ridiculous Geological Perspectives class where we met seven years ago. I am so grateful for how you stood by me, cared about me, pursued me, and never relented in asking me to go on adventures with you. I’ll never forget our conversations or how you always made the world a lighter place for me, seeing my burdens that I held so heavily not as road blocks but as just a small part of the bigger picture. You had such a heart for those who are hurting and gave much of yourself to others. You were never satisfied, and I respect how you continually kept your heart alive.

I could go on and on, but the words don’t suffice. I miss you. I don’t know how to say goodbye. But thank you..

words for the process

2011-07-29T21:45:00.000-07:00

without a doubt one of the best decisions I made this summer was to join a small group of lovely women from my class and go through the artist's way. it's been amazingly beautiful, challenging, refreshing, hard, and rewarding, and we are only through week 4 (out of 12). one of the things you are asked to do consistently is called morning pages, where for 30 minutes each morning you sit and write. you don't think or censor but just write what comes out. and don't read over it. don't do it perfectly. just write.

this week's chapter helped put words to what I've been noticing as I've been doing these pages recently, so I wanted to share some of the goodness. I feel like I'm writing more honestly, catching myself when I'm not as connected, and am being more specific with my words.

without further adieu, words from chapter 4:

Working with the morning pages, we begin to sort through the differences between our real feelings, which are often secret, and our official feelings, those on the record for public display. Official feelings are often indicated by the phrase, "I feel okay about that [the job loss, her dating someone else, my dad's death,...]."

What do we mean by "I feel okay?" The morning pages force us to get specific. Does "I feel okay" mean I feel resigned, accepting, comfortable, detached, numb, tolerant, pleased, or satisfied? What does it mean?

Okay is a blanket word for most of us. It covers all sorts of squirmy feelings; and it frequently signals a loss. We officially feel okay, but do we?

At the root of a successful creative recovery is the commitment to puncture our denial, to stop saying, "It's okay" when in fact it's something else. The morning pages press us to answer what else.

...As we lose our vagueness about our self, our values, our life situation, we become available to the moment. It is there, in the particular, that we contact the creative self. Until we experience the freedom of solitude, we cannot connect authentically. We may be enmeshed but we are not encountered.

Art lies in the moment of encounter: we meet our truth and we meet ourselves; we meet ourselves and we meet our self-expression. We become original because we become something specific: an origin from which work flows.

on home.

2011-07-23T16:39:00.000-07:00

I was in Colorado last week. my second home, for two reasons. the first is that it's the longest I've lived anywhere besides Arizona, so even though when I'm asked where I'm from and respond with the AZ, Colorado's right behind in second place. Colorado is also the second place I lived during my time on this earth, and my earliest memories are there.

I had every intention on figuring out where our old house was and driving by it, and if I looked too stalkerish perhaps I'd ask the current owners if I could come in and sneak a peak inside. I also assumed we'd spend some time with our dear old family friends sitting on their porch admiring Pikes Peak, where the park next door is where I learned to be a baller. where John Kerr stood out there for over an hour one day and taught me how to shoot. particularly from the corner, saying over and over, "just get it right over the rim. don't look at the backbord. right over the rim." but alas, none of these happened, as time got away with us since I was also going up and back to Wyoming.

home's such a weird thing. where is home, really? each day, ok, well most days at least, I really am learning that home is within myself. I have felt swayed, confused, shattered at times moving my physical body around all the time to different houses and parts of the world. I'm not really sure "where I'm from", but what hasn't changed throughout my journey is me.

home is in me. there is safety and trust. courage, warmth. there is rage and anger, but even those things are okay. my thoughts are there, even the deepest ones that never even get verbalized. my fears are there - the ones that are huge and the ones that get smaller as time goes on and the courage part gets bigger. beauty is there, and strength.

probably these things all have different rooms in the home that is me. some are pretty well kept-up and clean. others I'm afraid to enter, it's been to long, there's clothes on the floor and who knows what else.

but they're all there, and even if I try to kick parts out they come back. they don't ever leave, this is what I'm learning. maybe they switch rooms sometimes as they grow inside of me, but that's my home. that's where I can rest, it's where you can find me. my feelings, my experiences, are of utmost importance and are always invited. they're not to be devalued or stepped on by me or anyone else. in fact they don't exist for anyone else, and aren't something for me to easily give away.

home is me, and thank God I'm on the journey of knowing it and caring for it.

on love.

2011-07-12T22:48:00.000-07:00

yesterday I felt my little nephew kick in my sister's belly for the first time. this little guy is getting ready to come out. it was the coolest feeling - he's in there, he's alive, moving around and stuff. he can hear me. he's just chillin all nice and warm.

and IIIIIIIIIIIIIII... love the crap outta this guy. seriously.
and I don't even know him.

I don't know if he'll play basketball or football. if he'll hate cheese like his dad does. if he'll play an instrument or sing, if he'll like harry potter. I don't know if he'll like chipotle, but he better. I wonder if he'll be an extrovert, if he'll have friends, if he'll know how much he's loved. I wonder what he'll go through in his life. I wonder if I can take him to a baseball game one day. I hope that we'll be close, that he'll enjoy spending time with me whenever that happens. I hope I can read books to him and that he'll fall asleep while I'm holding him. I wonder if he'll keep my sister up all night. what subjects will he like in school? what is he gonna be when he grows up? I hope he wears sweater vests, those are so cute. I hope that he can come to know who he is, and rest in that.

every time I think these thoughts I am amazed at how much I love him, and he's not even here yet. I really don't know him. but it doesn't matter. I've got this affection, commitment for this little person I've never met. it doesn't really matter to me what he does or who he is. I love him. period. I'm for him. I'll fight for him.

...and how hard is it for me to have these same thoughts for myself? it's a battle. not quite so easy. but I'm learning so much already from this little one about love because of it. the little girl in me needs to be loved, cherished, held in her beauty and complexity just for who she is.

mmmm

2011-07-08T10:25:00.000-07:00

last night I was going over to a friend's house for dinner and cards and was asked to bring dessert. my initial thought was root beer floats, but then since the weather was yucky again yesterday I figured I actually wouldn't mind staying inside and making something. then I had a thought.

in kindergarten for mothers day we were all asked to find a favorite recipe and bring it in to class so our teacher would put together a pamphlet of all of our favorites and we would give it to our moms. I don't think I had to think twice about my favorite: oreo ice cream dessert.

the bottom is an oreo crust, cookies n cream ice cream in the middle, with a chocolate layer on top.

I brought it last night, and it was a hit. surprisingly there's even a little bit left.

I'm gonna go eat it for breakfast now.

on pain

2011-07-06T23:04:00.000-07:00

this afternoon I was working. just washin some dishes. a regular customer came in, she's probably pretty close to my age.

I saw her and asked her how she's doing. she didn't respond. this is very abnormal for her. she teared up. I went over to her and hugged her. hard. she cried on my shoulder.

she was alright for those few seconds of tears. she was holding them back, too, shaking a little bit. but from practically the moment that I let go her defenses came up. she said she was fine until I asked how she was and then thanked me for hugging her. she told me it's her boyfriend, it's being told she has to move out of her place, it's her son. nothing ever works out she said. that's just life. it sucks. she seemed ashamed and started talking about other things, getting the attention off her.

I thought about her fight within to stay with her pain, to not cover it up or feel like she has to stop crying. and I thought of my own. I was just thinking this morning of how much and how hard I fight it. this morning I told myself that I'm okay. that I can be where I'm at, there's no hurry. I can slow down and rest and feel and feel good about doing so. it felt nice. a lot better than the voice that says constantly "get it together. get over it. just push ahead" and just beats myself up all the time. yeah, that voice sucks.

earlier today I walked outside and there was a broken wooden desk out on the porch. I thought that was kinda weird. didn't know why it was there or where it came from. tonight I got home and my roommate shared some really difficult news about his family. so apparently today he went out and smashed his desk. I thought that was awesome and very appropriate.

why do we fight pain so much? how do we quiet the voice that tells us to suck it up and get it together?

oh em gee

2011-07-04T01:48:00.000-07:00

I may not have peed my pants skydiving yesterday, but I might have tinkled a little bit watching this movie... hiiiiiiilarious.

so great.

2011-06-30T14:43:00.000-07:00

my two favorite things about my new place:

can't stop laughing

2011-06-27T17:02:00.000-07:00

another thing I hope to do a lot of this summer is laugh, and this may be the funniest thing i've seen in awhile. omg.

eeeee

2011-06-25T23:44:00.000-07:00

as of approximately 12:18am friday morning, I'm officially done with my first year of grad school. wow. there are no words, really. for some reason I think your first year ends up being this huge blur and it feels all big and vague when you try to describe it to people, yet at the same time very deep, specific pockets of change have occurred inside of you. perhaps in the next few months I'll find more words for them, who knows.

but now it is summerrrrrr. what an odd, odd feeling. I'm hoping my summer will be full of rest, recuperating, adventure, growth, and unexpected goodness. mmm, it feels good to have space in my life.

also - i just can't think of summer right now without thinking of this scene, just sayin'......

2011-06-22T11:15:00.000-07:00

yesterday I followed Riley's lead and did something I've never done before.

I've thought about it many times and wanted to for awhile. but the timing just hasn't been right.

I finally did it. I jumped into green lake. it was very cold. but luckily it was 75 yesterday so afterward I just went right back to sunbathing. sunburn = success.

and lastly, for your viewing pleasure, a little taste of triangulation for you:

sorry snap - I've got the power

2011-06-20T21:20:00.000-07:00

I feel empowered today. still, seven hours after therapy. yes! victory. it's an odd feeling for me. I feel like life has been consuming me, overwhelming me, pressuring me, confusing me, and I've just been trying to get through it. it's pretty crappy to live this way, let's be honest.

but today is different. perhaps I'm in touch with the strength that people keep telling me I have. perhaps I'm not as afraid of having power as I have been before (I've been talking a lot about power these days, can you tell?).

it's frustrating to think that this feeling probably won't last. tomorrow I may wake up and feel back in the fight, back in the underdog position who has to have someone else validate whatever it is I'm experiencing. but such is life. if I'm feeling this way today it means progress has been made. it means that I'm on a good journey and am finding myself.

it feels good in this moment to say that I have power. that I can say or not say whatever it is that I'm thinking. I have power to choose my relationships, even to choose what my role will or won't be in them. that feels good as well.

do you know what else feels good? that I have finished my 11 page paper for old testament on 1 samuel 27. yeeeeeeeeeeees!! 1st year of grad school = almost done. boom. i've got the power.

another sidenote: currently one of my new roommates is dancing to backstreet boys' "larger than life." I am laughing.

there will come a time, you'll see..

2011-06-19T13:57:00.001-07:00

angerrrrr

2011-06-15T23:51:00.000-07:00

I don't know what my deal was/is (?), but yesterday at least, I was super angry about everything. first I went to office hour with this girl, thinking I'd just talk to her about one little question I had, but then the anger and the sadness came out. yep, that's where it started. basically I was upset about the church, and how it doesn't seem like what Jesus talked about is preached or valued. anyway, perhaps that blog is for another day.

then I had old testament class for six hours. ayayay. I tried to pay attention, for awhile at least. I even closed my computer a few times to try to listen better. but I was pissed. not sure exactly at what, the class perhaps, or the fact that I couldn't really listen, or that life feels out of my control right now, but I couldn't wait til I left to go to my basketball game.

and I was stiiiiiiiiiiill mad. so this was the perfect outlet for me - running around, getting energy out, playing basketball. yes! so I played... like I was mad. because I was. I thought to myself that I really wanted to foul out. it felt really good to just hack people, not let them shoot easily. I even took a charge at one point which I felt pretty good about. I think I ended with 4 fouls - two short of what I wanted.

we lost the game and we led for most of it. ugh. more anger.

later that night I just was thinking about it, and why/what I'm mad at, and really the only thing that came to me is that I think God is okay with my anger. sounds trite, but seriously though. I don't think I have to try to fix it right now.

champs

2011-06-12T21:11:00.001-07:00

this guy went to my school... just sayin'.

2011-06-02T00:22:00.000-07:00

saw her play tonight... you would have loved her.

<p>&amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;gt;it</p>

it was pretty cute actually. her dad was on one side of her playing guitar, and her husband was on the other.
WWDAS? (what would dan allender say?) 'leave and cleave! leave and cleave!'

small town fun

2011-05-31T11:57:00.000-07:00

i don't know if i'll be able to sleep tonight.

2011-05-25T23:20:00.000-07:00

oh.

my.

gatch.

click click

2011-05-24T15:16:00.000-07:00

I am in class right now.

I really hope that they win and that they lose (badly).

I mailed in a check for $140 to do this today. :/

A man who comes into my coffee shop is a psychiatrist and gave me this book to read. I started it last night and already love it.

I am doing this soon, and it scares the crap out of me to think about. I'll probably pee my pants.

aaaaaaaaah! I want one of these!!

recently discovered: this place is fun. also, I'd like to go to this.

why, oh why, does this have to be on while I'm in group therapy class?!? boo. love that show.

this summer one of my goals is to try doing this.

I recently jumped on their bandwagon, and I definitely don't regret it.

THIS IS SO CUTE!!

...heyo.

when I was in undergrad I applied for this. but really, I've always, always wanted to go on this.

apparently these are amazing, and I must go. soon.

ahahahaha. I remember when this happened. so. funny.

it is a dream of mine to return here, where I lived when I was 8.

speaking of food, a friend just handed me summa these so I'm gonna go eat them now. byeeeeeeeeeeeee.

2011-05-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

"how difficult it is to live inside my story."

"living inside my story means inside my full story, acknowledging the possible future relevance of every portion of my past. it means living inside my story, not in awe of someone else's - which has nothing to do, of course, with arrogantly supposing that my tale is central or universal, but only with understanding that this and no other is the one given me to inhabit whole. it means living inside my story, not popping outside all the time to check on how I'm doing with the audience, but getting the clearest possible view from where I stand."

"living inside my story allows my fullhearted presence in those places where many stories intersect and complete one another."

"to get there, I need a lot of solitude."

"who I am is not a noun, but a narrative."

-jan clausen

titles

2011-05-22T12:52:00.000-07:00

here are the titles of the papers I've written thus far in grad school...

Is It Worth the Risk?

The Journey Toward Home

The Struggle and Beauty of Reading

Embracing the Journey

Finding Ourselves in Love

Discovering More of Me

The Sexually Abused Woman: Fragmentation and Wholeness

We’re All Fine. Or Are We?

Doug and Jennifer: Moving toward Intimacy

Called to Be Male and Female

Cowardice and Courage in The Fighter

The Existence of Evil and the Character of God

Margaret Mahler: The Struggle to Simultaneously Fit In and Separate From

Margaret Mahler: The Significance of Relationship

the rapture is tomorrow

2011-05-20T22:46:00.000-07:00

and I'm all set & ready to go. I've even got a decent tan for it...

peace out, world.

don't call me, i'll call you.

2011-05-15T18:35:00.000-07:00

over the past 4 days I have spent 21 hours in class and 12.25 hours at work.

I even went to bed at 9pm last night. I never do that.

yes please.

2011-05-13T19:15:00.000-07:00

[the sunshine is much more enjoyable when you're not in class for 12 hours.]

ode to old testament class

2011-05-10T17:18:00.000-07:00

a haiku about the seven hour OT class I am currently in:

A microphoned man
Typing fingers web browsing
Distractions galore

churning

2011-05-10T00:46:00.000-07:00

I've been on a couple of ferry rides the past few days - a lovely perk of living in a place that actually has water. these are reflections on a few precious moments standing outside, feeling the air, soaking it in.

I stand and look at where I once was.

separate now, and grateful for it.

the distance between us

creates a chasm of hope,

of something new.

yet as I stand here and ponder

I feel a churning beneath me.

because all movement

comes with a cost,

you see.

just as the propellers below me

must work and move and rumble

to take me to a new destination,

so it is with me

and my heart.

it's not easy, and yet

you can easily ignore it.

but when you simply stand,

and listen, and feel,

you realize

that the churning, the rumbling,

although harsh and murky

will eventually bring you

into a new place,

a place you desire to be.

the churning

deep within me -

it hurts. it comes with a price.

it's not to be ignored, and it is worth it

[I think.]

hi mom.

2011-05-08T19:49:00.000-07:00

looooove you.

“I knew then that no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many jars of honey you threw, no matter how much you thought you could leave your mother behind, she would never disappear from the tender places in you.”

- the secret life of bees

cinco de mayooooo

2011-05-05T15:14:00.000-07:00

ahahahaha

beautiful people

2011-05-04T23:18:00.000-07:00

I miss these people...
at times I really loved them, other times all I wanted was some space.

what to pack? from cori smith on Vimeo.

I've been home from my trip for a year now, and I remember it all too well. the loneliness, the depression, the purposelessness I felt almost immediately after returning home. what was I to do with myself? where was I to go? who were my friends?

I still don't really know what to do about this trip that I was on.

how do you go about processing 11 months of insanity,

that was so far from reality and yet simultaneously was nothing but real?

what do I do about the fact that I lived with these people, and these people only,

for 11 months, and now am separated from them? but they are the only ones

who experienced the craziness alongside of me. they're the only ones who know.

how do I live, how do I be

in this world

because of what I have seen and experienced?

I really have no idea.

but I do know that I am moving toward something good,

something that is more of my real, genuine self.

I lack the words for this process - really I do.

the more I try to explain it to people

the less the words feel true.

but this something is happening within me,

and it needs nurturing and care.

grace. love.

and then more & more - grace. love.

[repeat.]

may this something continue

always. forever.

Untitled from amanda thompson on Vimeo.

An Ode to I-Squad from Hannah Olsen on Vimeo.

duhyaaaaaaaang gina

2011-05-03T16:14:00.000-07:00

this

is so, so, so much better than this

...seeeeeeeriously.
[can you tell that I'm currently sitting in Old Testament class for 7 hours?!? uhm yeah.]