I apologize, musicians.

To all of the musicians at SPU,
I apologize. I must admit: I have been judging you, spreading rumors that you're all rather untalented. And out of tune. And off key. And hipster. And whiny.
Lately, though, you have been systematically proving me wrong. Thank you.
Love,
Melissa

This weekend was SPU's annual Talent Show, which I missed last year but will absolutely never miss again. The acts were phenomenal - like taking the best of all our open mics, campus concerts, and student bands and letting them loose on the stage for four hours (which was the only down side). I am honestly in awe of the amazing artists we have here at SPU, from bands covering Bon Jovi to one student who composed his song, complete with a string quartet and horns (it should be noted that he won last year - as a freshman). Outside of the fact that it ran for four hours, it was the best show I've seen in a long time, worth way more than the $5 I paid for entry. And the best part? These are people I know. I see these people in Gwinn, in class, in my dorm, and walking around campus. And they're really talented.
Clearly, I possess no talent as great as these people. So I'm going to shut up and apologize for making fun of their Indie music.
For the most part.

Responsible.

Today was a turning point in my academic career: I skipped class, because I decided I could accomplish more if I didn't sit in the lecture. Of course, I'm blogging while class is in session, so take that as you will. But really - I never skip class.
So in the hour I've had since class started, I have done a load of laundry, made coffee, cozied into my bed with Immanuel Kant and G.W.F. Hegel, and read my little heart out. I wrote a page of reflection on my reading, got clothes out of the dryer, read the new issue of the newspaper, and started to blog.
I've done more in one hour than I would ever accomplish while sitting in class, wishing I wasn't there.
Shoot. Even when I'm being irresponsible, I'm responsible.

[to]Day.

This morning I woke up at 5:05 a.m.
I clocked on at work at 5:30 a.m.
Overslept, much?
Regardless, work was good; weekends are very similar to days off, because there's no morning rush in Fremont without all of the weekday business people. I got paid to make a few drinks, take out the trash once, and read The Stranger. And I got off work at noon. Perfect.

Earlier, I started working on an article about last night's benefit concert for Haiti. I attended the concert. I did my research. I had my quotes. Yet, I couldn't tell the story.
This was one of the most difficult articles I've had to write this year, and I didn't like that feeling - but it was a good feeling, too. It was a challenge, because, for the first time, I didn't feel like the story was entirely mine to tell.
Weird.
We'll see how that turns out, I guess :)

I'm going to Mars Hill tomorrow. So excited to go back!

Wordle.

So my friend, Morgann, took my last blog post and ran it through this site called Wordle.net - so cool!

It basically made my night!
I say "basically" because this Wordle business was topped by an AWESOME benefit concert for Haiti tonight. These girls heard about the Haiti earthquake, then said, "How can we respond?" Their answer? "Well, we go to SPU and we have a house, so we said, 'Let's have a concert,' because that's what we do at SPU."
The response was amazing. They had three artists/bands play (2 of which were SPU students) and they just charged $3 for entry. Over 100 people crowded into their living room - which is not built for 100 people, I'll add - and they raised over $500 to donate to Haiti.
It's basically a huge testimony to the power of God and each of us using the talents we have. What an eye-opener.

My God is Mighty to Save.

My God can rebuild Haiti; I am not hopeless. My God can overcome this destruction; I will rejoice.
When tragedy occurs, it is so easy to ask questions. It is hard to accept that we do not always get answers. When we’re broken, it is easy to give up on God. It is hard to trust Him. When we’re devastated, it is easy to blame God. It is more difficult to praise Him.
Most of all, it seems impossible to believe in a God who would let this happen.
But isn’t that what we always do? We blame God for tragedy, for an unhappy ending, for sitting idly by while we are destroyed. This is the human condition; we always come in at the tragedy and fail to see that this is a love story still playing itself out.
This tragedy isn’t the end. Destruction never has the final say. All the power of darkness can never extinguish the unwavering promise of Light.
This has always been a romance between our wandering human hearts and a God who is faithful to the promises of His word. He promised that He would never leave us. If we feel abandoned, we can only blame our lack of faith in his promise. If we feel hopeless, only
He promises life. He promises rebirth. He promises rebuilding. He promises redemption.
Yes, there can be redemption through this pain, because God is mighty to save.
It’s hard to see right now. The news only shows the images of grief and loss and sadness, but in the distance, I know many Haitians gather every night to worship God, to glorify Him in the midst of their loss.
They are not hopeless. Neither am I.

Starting over.

Every time I start to keep a blog, it inevitably gets pushed to the back of my mind, shoved under the ever-growing pile of other things to do. School. Work. Falcon. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
I realized that I don't really remember much of what happened last quarter. Sure, I remember that it happened, but I don't know what I did with my time, because I wasn't having fun. I wasn't hanging out with friends. I wasn't laughing.
Last quarter was terrible, so bad that it made me consider transferring to UW.
I want winter to be different. I cannot say how successful I'll be in this attempt, but that's my goal. I know what to expect from my schedule, and I know - I really know - that I can handle whatever life throws my way.
I don't want to look back at college and see four years of papers and classwork and miserable memories. I've done that before and, in the rear view mirror, high school looks exactly like what lies ahead.