Nails were not enough to hold God-and-man nailed and fastened on the cross, had not love kept him there...

-- St. Catherine of Siena

An Update

I only have to read 336 more pages of War and Peace. If only I didn't work (and procrastinate) so much--I could've been done with it ages ago. Unfortunately, I do work full-time and when I'm not at work I'm honing my procrastinating skills. So many ways to procrastinate, so little time. Also, War and Peace would probably be a lot more enjoyable to read if I didn't dislike all of the characters.

Only THREE more weeks of work left. This is a wonderful thing. This means that I have to endure only three more weeks of: having customers scream in my face over coffee, the dubious honor of a promotion to a managerial position (The only difference that this position has made in my life is that now I am held accountable for everyone else's mistakes, too. Now when people say I want to talk to the manager NOW!, they mean that it is now time for them to serve me a heaping helping of rage.), being at work at 4:30 am, burning myself with hot coffee because we open at 5 am and motor skills just aren't all there at that hour of the morning, looking down at my hands at the end of an eight and a half hour shift in front of the cash register and realizing that they are completely blackened with money-dirt and that this money-dirt has also been transferred to my face and arms (Just for the record, I look like a complete vision while I'm at work...if by "vision" you mean "sleep-deprived slob extraordinaire".). I hope that I will never have to work there again. Though, should I need to, some of my co-workers have gleefully informed me that the store will always take you back!

I know practically nil about church history, but this summer has been good for playing catch-up. Newadvent.com is astoundingly thorough and pretty much my sole supplier of church history info.

Never a big tv-watcher, I have become totally addicted to Lost, The Office, Monk and 24. I blame the iTunes store and my weak will.

I might very well have a thesis proposal done by the time I return to school. At the very least, I will have started said thesis proposal.

I'm going shopping (huzzah!) next week and I'm trying to fight off the overwhelming urge to buy a sheepskin rug for my dorm room while I'm out shopping. Target sells sheepskin rugs and all of sudden they seem like the perfect dorm room accent: so soft to lie on, so nice and pet-like (minus the fuss of a real, live pet). Yes, I do realize that this is a weird desire.

I am literally counting down the days on my calender until I go back to school. This is sad, but true. (Also sad, but true: I miss California! Am I allowed to love two sides of the country at once?)

at the ocean

You know that Nick Drake song, Pink Moon? The moon rose over the water tonight and it really was pink against the blue-grey fog that was rolling in.

Is there anything better than the smell of salt air, the breeze that blows off the water?

I am about to go on vacation. I am going to live in my bathing suit, eat my body-weight in fried seafood and blackberry ice cream, go ocean kayaking whenever I feel like it, take early morning runs along the salt marsh while the sun rises over the ocean, go crabbing for blue crabs and silly fiddler crabs, swim whenever I feel the slightest bit warm and try as hard as I can to snag a tan (even a itty-bitty tan is better than nothing). I am going to spend tons of time relaxing with my family and take as many cat-naps as I please and read whenever I feel like it and gorge myself on fresh fruit from the farmer's market down the road. I am going to take a BREAK! (Well, I might read some War and Peace, but that's not too taxing.) I can't wait until we get off the highway, roll all the car windows down and stick our heads out to catch the salt-smell on the breeze (it's a summer ritual).

Because I crack myself up: I'm entitling emails to my poor thesis advisor things like "Pre-Proposal June 2006: The Agonizing Continues!!!". Oh, senior year is going to be ridiculously fun. But probably not so much for a lot of advisors.

I was sitting on my back porch tonight, enjoying a cool breeze and smoking a cigarette as evening fell. All of a sudden the deepening shadows in my backyard were full of fireflies--bunches and bunches of fireflies. I never see fireflies in California.

If it doesn't stop raining here, I might just die from lack of sunshine. I'm experiencing a severe vitamin D deficiency right now: for every day of sun there are (approximately) five days of driving rain. Hot, humid driving rain. Now, all the percipitation is making everything green and lush, but it's never nice enough to go outside and enjoy all the greenery. Right now the hills are cloaked in fog and the beach is a distant dream.

I admit it: I have succumbed to peer pressure. I can no longer withstand my Brazilian co-workers and am now (along with countless others) rooting for Brasil to win the World Cup. What is most shameful about this it that I've always been very vocal about my disdain for those people who will root for whatever team appears most likely to win. It seems my hypocrisy knows no bounds.