beach house

there are a few bands/musicians i revisit time & time again.  the beatles. elliott smith. rilo kiley. yo la tengo. epik high. & now i would say beach house will be up there in that special category.  there were periods (months) where i would just indulge myself in their albums ("devotion," "teen dream," & most recently "bloom" - which is my favorite). their songs so perfectly encapsulate this mood of ethereal, melancholic wistfulness that i crave.

ugh, so amazing.

bathroom chatter

people seem to complain about those awkward, obligatory chats you have with people when you run into them on the elevator.  the only types of conversations that are reserved for this sacred time are convos about the weather, plans for/from the weekend, or the "busy day ahead!" but if you really want an escape route from these stale convos you can always resort to your phone and pretend you have some very urgent emails you need to tend to.  or just never take off your headphones and do the smile & nod.

i think what's worse than awkward elevator talk is awkward bathroom talk.

first of all, you're going in there to do your business, and the last thing you want to do is talk to someone before or after.  and i never knew what the proper etiquette is with that either...

you walk into the bathroom and you see someone you know. is it rude to just ignore them and make a beeline to the stall?

so if it is rude, you decide to engage in some light chit-chat, but when do you then disengage?
and then when you do walk into the stall, is it weird to keep talking from there?

and just say you pause the conversation while you're in the stall, then once you get out of the stall do you just continue from where you left off (assuming that the other person is still in the bathroom, which actually does happen more often than i would think - girls can take a long time "freshening up").

so many unwritten rules... somebody, please enlighten me.

yo adrian

love the romantic storyline in rocky.

rocky & adrian's first date was so endearingly awkward.


watching this film made me grow a soft spot for honest, unpretentious meatheads.

n.

my friends & i have used the metaphor of trains many times.

living in queens, the yellow line has always been near & dear to me.  the n train especially has been my train of preference because it always took me exactly where i needed to go (queensboro plaza, broadway stops) and has a very clean/bright interior (w/periwinkle seating).

but for some reason, i always feel that when i'm waiting for the subway, the r train would always come first. if i'm desperate or tired of waiting, i'll just end up taking it but it was definitely not the ideal - it will take me near my destination (but i would need to take a 5-10 min detour stroll) and definitely was more rickety/old & less aesthetically pleasing.

but the amazing thing was that this weekend, for some reason - every time i was waiting for a train, the n train would come first, which is extremely rare for me (with the exception of this strange time when the r train came disguised as the n train).

i know this is going to sound a bit loopy, but i think this was a sign - a sign that i shouldn't take the r (even if it seems convenient and accessible at the time) and that i should wait for the n, because the n is coming.

when it comes down to it - do i really want to take the r?

remember your values. remember what you want in life.  remember who you are and what you stand for.  remember not too long ago, you specifically stated what you wanted?  how can you be so silly, so fickle, so emotional?

maybe this is a time to retreat back to myself. figure out who i am, once again - before eventually finding someone who will accept it, cultivate it, and hone it.

zimbabwe

it’s funny how God can change and move our hearts in ways and places we never thought it could go. 

it’s been about a month now since coming back from zimbabwe.

it felt like a different dimension - worlds apart from nyc. although a small part of myself did miss the comforts of being home, another part of me was scared to leave this dream.  i remember the last day (after half our team had already left back to the states due to the ticketing mishap), i was strolling around pastor tatenda’s compound and a wistful, almost grievous feeling overwhelmed me. i couldn’t help but think i would probably never be back here again.  the thing is that i know i'll miss it... but not in a way that would make me want to desperately come back. it’s the kind of longing where you know that you can't recreate this time again as much as you want to. it is a memory that can never be brought back but will be frozen in that moment at that right temperature with the right circumstances and people. this is what made me truly sad. 

zimbabwe was a place of miracles, of transparency, of rawness. it was hard thinking i’d have to go back to the sterility and the emotional coldness of the NYC. but God is working here too – albeit differently. 

what i’ll miss most though is not doing ministry and doing “God’s work” per se, but it will be the familial warmth of daily Zimbabwean life.  there was a feeling of belonging/kinship at the tatenda home – cooking together, dining together, working together, just living life together. here in nyc – it’s so easy to feel alone… everything is so self-involved and individualistic (and i thought that’s what i initially liked about it), but i see now such is not the case. 

pastor tatenda – lucia – tanatsuwa – tatenda jr. – netsai – amos – adam – tapiwa – privilege – mercy – thelma – sandra