Under the Stars

[Written July 27, 2009, under the stars in Yosemite. I felt like sharing it - I'm not really sure why.]

The stars open above me as I write tonight. Soon the sky will blaze with silver. Tonight is my last here, and I wanted to see them one last time. They remind me of hope.

Night is kind to the scarred ones. It hides them, grants them silence and space. The space can become terrifying, at first glance. That's because it looks empty. But when we walk through that darkness, the candle of love held high in shaking hand, we see lights opening above us, around us. We see the stars. We see the hope, the beauty, the peace, that never fails to shine in even the darkest sky. Clouds may cast a momentary veil over our view, but they cannot endure. Love is always strongest, and it never gives up.

God gave the stars especially to those who understand and have seen the bitter emptiness found in night. He scattered them as angels to watch over us on silver wings. He wanted us to know htat he hasn't forgotten about us, and so, even with our scars and fears and failures, we can be brave enough not to forget about Him - about love. About the hope in the stars.

- Elraen -

Thoughts on a Trip to California, 18 1/2 Hours Before

I’ve always disliked change. Within 24 hours, my life will be totally flipped upside down and shaken sideway for a month.

I think a lot of the time I write to make sense of things around me. A constant theme in the novel I’m currently writing has been that one of the main characters is flexible and loves changeableness, while the other hates anything to change and can’t stand uncertainty. It’s a theme that’s appeared more and more as July 18th draws closer.

Tomorrow morning I head to fly out of Dallas with Mar and Telpe. We’ll be flying into California, and spending two weeks with our aunt and uncle there. I guess I should be excited. Instead I just feel incredibly apprehensive. Maybe part of it is because trips aren’t usually enjoyable for me. Maybe part of it is because I’m afraid it will be enjoyable, and I have no place in my head for things like that anymore. I really don’t know.

Also, I can’t deny that I have a terror of airports now. I’ve had countless bad dreams about being stuck in airports alone since December. I keep telling myself that the chances of something going terribly wrong twice in a row are incredibly slim, but it’s hard to be rational when your first flying experience (not counting half-remembered images of airports from flying to and back from Africa as a toddler) ended up so badly. Of course, I can tell myself that I survived that quite proficiently, and that it only lasted for about 18 hours, and then I was rescued. Then I tell myself that Mar will be with me this time, and he’ll have a debit card with him so we’ll have all the money we’ll need, and I’ll have my iPod with all the phone numbers we need, and if worst comes to worst we can get online via my iPod and message someone to come help us. I know now how to navigate airports and find what I need. There is a world of difference between this time and The Airport Saga. But I still don’t want to go into an airport. I don’t mind the plane itself. I like airplanes, far more than cars (which may just be because they’re still new and exciting to me). But I have no interest in airports.

Plus, I have no idea what to expect from the trip itself. This is going to be the first real “vacation” kind of trip I’ve ever taken. My family tends to operate in a very low-key mode, as far as most Americans would be concerned. For “vacation” we go camping (tent camping, no less), or up to a mission station in North Carolina, or to visit grandparents. We don’t do theme parks or tourist attractions or stay in fancy hotels and lodges, because they’re just too expensive. But in California we’ll basically be doing a full tourist experience. I have no idea how to even process that concept. At Disney Land I’ll probably just head straight for the coasters, because they make sense to me. Plus, they’ll remind me of Sixflags and the last Skillet concert, which is always comforting.

Also, I will have limited internet time. Over the past year the internet has been my sanity and my lifeline. It’s where all the people I actually trust enough to talk to are, and so I feel totally isolated and alone whenever I can’t be online. It’s not necessarily that I think I shouldn’t talk to people face to face, it’s just that I can’t talk to any of these people face to face, so the internet is the next best thing. And that’s going to be mostly gone. There are so many people who I won’t be there for. The thought of someone needing to talk to me, needing encouragement, needing prayer… and I’m not there… that makes me furiously angry with myself. I feel like a deserter.

Then of course I won’t be working for a whole month. That’s almost as bad. I haven’t taken more than two or three weeks off in over a year, and even when I did take time off, I felt guilty. That’s a full month that I won’t be earning money. It’s also a full month that my coworkers (and my Father) have to do without me. That makes me feel incredibly irresponsible.

It’s not that I don’t understand that this trip is a great opportunity. I know that. I love my uncle, and I enjoy spending time with him. It’s just that the whole thing feels like I’m being irresponsible and self-centered in order to do something I’m afraid of doing anyway.

And of course, the bottom line is, I just hate change. I’ve spent all day every day for two months at class or in work, then alone at night, on my computer with my Skillet and my graphics and my writing. And I like that. I’ve been more content than I had been in a year, because being alone like that is so safe, and so much less exhausting (besides the fact that almost everyone being gone from my University is a source of much happiness to me anyway).

So the long and short of it is that I’m sitting here thinking “why don’t I just stay home for the next two weeks and then go to the moot in August?” Not an option. I often remind myself that there are only two kinds of things in my life: that which I must do, and that which I can’t allow myself to do. Nothing else matters.

Before I leave tomorrow morning: another 5 hours of work at the library amidst the chaos of the freshmen’s pre-orientation, finish packing my checked bag and pack my carry on and purse, go shopping with Em for a new pair of jeans, write at least another 3,000 words, clean the church with my family for 3 – 4 hours, sync my iPod, and hopefully sleep at least a little. Oh, and maybe answer more of the messages piled in various inboxes.

Hopefully I’ll be able to update this blog a few times over the next month. “Keep a weather eye on the horizon…”

- Elraen -

Whispering Star

Meet Whisper.

Whisper (whos full name is WhisperingStar - long, long thought process behind that name, ask me if you want to hear it all, but obviously it's partly a play on Wandering Star) is my brand new 16 GB iPod touch. I waited a long, long time for her.

I've wanted an iPod for years now. My parents gave me a little MP3 player for Christmas when I was 16, and it went everywhere with me. It was only 2 GB, and pretty quickly it developed some major quirks, but it was like a lifeline. My family called it my IV. When I started college, I would listen to it while walking from class to class, I would listen to it while doing homework away from home, I would listen to it in the car.

Then, in September last year, it died.

I was so upset that I nearly cried. That was a very bad stretch of my life overall, and the fact that I now would have no way of listening to my music unless I had my laptop seemed strangely devastating at the time.

But of course life goes on, and we find we can live without things. I knew I had to buy textbooks and pay for insurance and other nasty grow-up things like that. So I decided I would have to wait.

Towards the beginning of this summer, as I got my work schedule nailed down, I started thinking about the iPod again. Both last summer and this summer I've allowed myself to get one really nice thing to reward myself for working and paying for all my necessary expenses. Last summer it was my camera, The Martian (that name is totally not my fault. Can I blame Joy?). This summer I decided it would be an iPod.

But, I knew nothing about iPods, aside from that my brother's decrepit iPod classic did not seem to appealing to me. So I started asking around. Coincidentally, I ended up going on the advice of the same person who advised me to get the model of camera I did. She told me about all the different features of the iPod touch, and after some back-up opinions from others (mostly friends on the Skillet boards), I decided that that was what I wanted. Despite the fact that it's the nicest, and thus most expensive, iPod currently on the market (not counting the iPhone).

So I saved. I knew I had to pay for other expenses first. I paid off all my school fees for the summer and next semester, minus textbooks. I finished saving money for our Colorado trip in August (I've been working extra hours since January to pay for that). I wrote and revised budgets for the summer. I decided on exactly which paycheck I would spend on the iPod. And I waited.

I ordered the iPod the morning I got the paycheck. My older brother, who has an apple account, helped me order. More waiting. According to the calculations I made, it wouldn't come until the following Friday. But instead, it arrived on Wednesday morning, yesterday.

As soon as the FedEx truck pulled out and I saw the size of the package I knew it must be mine. I signed for it and took it inside. My older sister was the only other one home, and I was shaking so much that she had to help me open the package.

The wreckage after we opened the package:

I am enthralled by the shininess:

Turning on for the first time:

Syncing the library:

First song played on Whisper: "Monster" by Skillet

First video played on Whisper: "Whispers in the Dark" by Skillet

Let's try it with the earphones now:

Discovering the Internet capabilities that evening:

Overall, I have rarely made an investment I am so pleased with. Which is good, considering how much I paid for it. I keep telling people that I feel like it's way too cool for me. I also have a paranoia that I'm going to break it or something. But at the same time, I'm just so thrilled to have it. I can listen to music while walking to work. I have endless apps to occupy me if I'm waiting in line somewhere and get bored. I can send e-mails from anywhere. Music is very, very important to me, and for that reason, getting an iPod is very much worth it.

And I'll admit that my first thought when I heard it had internet capabilities was "we're going on to an airport in July. If I have internet, I can contact people if something goes terribly wrong." Yes, the ordeal in December left its mark on me.

Finally, the most special thing about the iPod is that I got it engraved with my favorite lyrics. These lyrics have meant a lot to me for more than two years now, but even more since the Skillet concert in April. I also have my name on it (at my older brother's insistance), but I've blurred it out in this picture for precaution's sake.

God bless!

- Elraen, the Wandering Star -

Not Finished, Not a Failure

Yesterday I walked up to the registrar's office and dropped a class for the first, and hopefully last, time in my life. I've talked to many of you about how much I was looking forward to this class and how excited I was, so perhaps in a sense this blog entry is an explanation.

I heard about this class towards the beginning of the Spring semester. And English professor I didn't know very well came to the library desk with a huge stack of Tolkien books, and as I checked them out for him I started a casual conversation (considering how much the subject interests me). I found out he would be teaching a class on Tolkien's works in the summer. I immediately decided I would be taking it. Anyone who knows me at all would view it as a given that I would.

I talked to my advisor and learned that the class would not cover any of my necessary credits, but that was OK with me because I love the subject so much. So I signed up for the class and looked forward to it immensely.

I got through the literature class I was taking, and then started the Tolkien class the next day. For about the first week, I was mostly alright with it. I even got to read a few shorter pieces I hadn't read before. The class proved to be difficult on my schedule, as it meant I had to be late to work every day and I had to bring something to eat at the desk in the library for lunch, but I decided I could just keep working around that.

But as time went on, a few things changed. One, I realized I wasn't learning anything. This didn't bother me too much at first; after all, I've learned very little in the English and Literature classes I've taken in college thus far (excepting my very first composition class which I did as dual credit while still in highschool). That kind of thing is like playing for me; it requires little to no effort. The Tolkien class was no different. Also, several of the other students seemed to believe themselves very knowledgeable on the subject of Tolkien, which I found slightly irritating yet vaguely amusing considering no one else in the class but my brother had actually even read The Silmarillion (which I've read through four times, in case you wondered). What did frustrate me is when they would get things wrong and be too prideful to be corrected. Furthermore, I am a very quiet person, and the class was set in discussion format. That is the worst possible format for me. The professor can talk to me for hours and I'll drink it in and learn. But the moment you ask me to say something, I get lost, confused, and feel like a total idiot. Every time I even tried to offer a thought, one of the guys would interrupt me and ignore what I had said. I gave up, because I'm perfectly content to listen. It's what I do. However, it meant I wasn't participating in the class.

When we reached the discussion of The Lord of the Rings, yet more changed. Primarily the fact that the teacher began mercilessly criticizing the movies. Even when he talked about the book, it was in the context of “and this is an area where Peter Jackson, once again, failed.” Understand, I do not by any means believe that the movies are perfect. I have annoyances with them; many, in fact. But no movie is perfect. That said, I believe Lord of the Rings comes as close as any movies possibly can to perfection. They totally changed my life, and had a huge impact on the person I have become (see my blog post from February on the subject). So for me to hear them shredded, day after day, was incredibly painful. It felt like I myself was being torn apart, because the movies are part of me. I was nearly in tears by the end of class one day, and I realized “this is ridiculous. Why am I doing this?”

In addition to that, I noticed a disturbing trend in myself. I was starting to complain about the class. Not just laying out my opinions, logically and rationally. I would come home and bitterly rant. This is very out of character for me, because I have fought so hard against it. I have an incredibly strong natural tendency to be negative about things. However, two years ago I gave that to God and waited to see what He could do. The result is that I only slip into complaining and being really negative if I feel wounded, lost, cornered, and like I have no other way out (note that I have been very negative at times about school in general, and the people there – that's why. I'm not excusing the behavior, simply explaining it). I am constantly fighting against the urge to be bitter, and this class was drawing that old tendency out in me to an alarming degree.

Basically, I could see no possible reason for staying in the class. I wasn't learning anything. I wasn't enjoying it. I couldn't even claim I was in it to spend time with my brother, considering he sleeps through class most days (I don't know how he does it – Mar is like a sleeping machine). I was only going to hurt myself and those around me more by staying in it. So I worked up the courage to e-mail my professor and advisor, and I dropped it.

It's my natural first inclination to feel like this was a major failure on my part. I keep thinking I should have made it work. But then I realize did I really need to make this work?

The last day of class that I sat in on, I prayed before going to class and asked God to guide me that day and show me what He would have me do. We watched part of the movie that day, Moria to be specific. Gandalf's line to Frodo hit me very, very hard. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you. What would I rather do? Sit in on a class with no foreseeable benefits and be miserable for two hours a day? Or spend two extra hours at home, helping my mother, playing with my dear, funny little brother who I hardly ever get to see, eating lunch normally, and getting to work on time?

I don't think the decision I made was a failure. Not this time, at least. I just have to remind myself of that.

And of course there is the regret that something I was looking forward to so very much ended up being nothing but more frustration and disillusionment. But that is the story of my entire college experience thus far: look forward to it, dream, and reach it and find out it's all dust and ashes crumbling in my hands. I feel absolutely no ill will to the teacher; I can't blame him for opinions. I would never blame anyone for that. And I will not mourn for one class that falls by the wayside. In the grand scheme of things, the most meaningful thing is that I'm consciously choosing the road that I believe is right.

- Elraen -

Photoshoot and Followup

This is the result of a photo shoot I did the other day, followed by some work with the GIMP. I thought I'd share some of went into this image - the "behind the scenes," if you will, as I rarely talk about how I set up shots or how I edit and so on. I normally just give the finished product. I found it easier to write this as a list rather than as a cohesive whole.

Fact 1: I'd had this image planned out in my head for a few months.

Fact 2: I set up and wrote on my arms while playing Flyleaf's album way too loud.

Fact 3: I needed a room where light sources could easily be controlled, so I went to the same place I always do for shoots like this - the bathroom, which has no windows.

Fact 4: The black backdrop is courtesy of my brother's cloak

Fact 5: The black words were written with dry erase marker. "LOVE" originally was as well, but the red dry erase marker didn't show up as well as it needed to, so I went over it with sharpie.

Fact 6: The lamp I usually use for lighting went dead at the crucial moment. I still needed a directed light source. My solution? Seven candles and an oil lamp clustered around the sink in front of the mirror. Not as bright as I really wanted, but with some help from my camera's flash, it worked.

Fact 7: I was using self-timer for this, obviously. I stacked up books between the candles and put the camera on top of that - because the mirror was behind the camera I could see the view screen reflected from where I was sitting and could adjust as necessary (yes, I planned it that way).

Fact 8: I was doing this in a limited amount of time. I wanted it to be done before my siblings got home, and I wasn't sure exactly how much time I'd have. Fortunately they got back later than I expected.

Fact 9: The battery ran out after the first few shots. I dashed to the charger and plugged in the battery for about 5 minutes, to give it just enough power that I could hurriedly get better shots.

Fact 10: It gets very, very hot in a small, enclosed room in summer with little ventilation when you have 7 candles and an oil lamp burning.

Fact 11: It took a few minutes to scrub off all the writing afterwards, but much less time than if I'd used black sharpie (as I know from past experience).

Fact 12: The shot I ended up most satisfied with was the last one I took, which is unusual. Normally when I do multiple shots of the same thing, it's the first or the second I like best, and I never manage to capture it any better on the following takes.

Fact 13: I knew before I took the picture that I'd be grayscaling it, which turned out to be a good thing. Because of the interesting lighting issues, I had to do some shadow correction, which is much easier when working with all gray tones.

Fact 14: Basic outline of everything I did to the image in GIMP: I cropped it. I desaturated it. I increased the contrast. I darkened all the colors except the skin and hair. I used the smudge tool to make the hair look smoother. I used the airbrush tool to correct the shadows around the face. I increased the contrast on the arms so the writing shows up better. I went to the layer of the original, colored image (when doing image manipulation, I almost always leave an untouched version of the picture as a separate layer - it's very helpful) and selected just the word "LOVE." I copied it onto a new layer. I made it look smoother using airbrush, and darkened and lessened the saturation so that the red blended better. (If you're curious, this is the image I started out with: click)

Fact 15: This was supposed to be stylized, so if it looks rather "fake," that's fine. It didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, and I may be playing around with it more, but all things considered I really can't complain.

- Elraen -

Looking Back: Clean Place Moot 2008

I can remember very clearly where I was exactly a year ago today.

We were driving. I had my face close to the window, staring at mountains outlined in fairy traces of snow. It was like a dream. I was in a van full of friends, girls who had been my constant companions for the past two years. My mother and my friend Kalmiel sat in the front seats, as they were taking turns driving. EveningStar sat on my row. Emerwen and my sister Telpe sat in the row behind me. My older brother Maranar sat in the back row with his small white mouse, Trillian, who was along for the ride.

When we finally turned onto Mangy's street, I looked at the street sign and remembered all the times I'd seen and written that address. I couldn't believe I was actually here, after two long years. It took us a few moments to maneuver our bulky 15-passenger van into the small parking spot in front of Mangy's house. We went around to the back door; I still don't remember why. Emerwen and I were walking ahead of the others. I was wearing my blue cloak, knowing that that would make me very easily recognizable. I remember walking around back and hearing screams of excitement from inside. My very first impulse was to turn around and run.

I had waited for that moment for two years. I had been part of the online community Clean Place since three weeks before my 15th birthday in 2006, and I had managed to meet a few members in person. Nothing like this though. This was the second annual "Clean Place Moot," where members from all over the country would gather in Colorado Springs for 10 days of fellowship and writing. Last year I hadn't been able to go due to financial issues, and it had been very hard for me to be so far away when so many of my friends were together. This year twice as many members were going as had before, and my family and Texan friends were among those new "Mooters." There was a sense of excitement, and yet at the same time I felt nervous - afraid I wouldn't live up to the person they thought I was, to the person I should be. Afraid I wouldn't be able to talk to the right people as much as I should.

Those first few minutes after the door opened are a blur in my head. I remember hugging Mangy, and I remember that Shalana was the only one I didn't immediately recognize (we only had one or two pictures of her at that point). I remember that there was a pavilion out back. I remember Mar bringing out Trillian to break the ice. I remember going in, and Nia making me sit down and drink water (I was coming out of the worst illness of my life, and my endurance was next to nothing at that point). Silver bounced over and gave me some Korean candy to eat. I kept looking at Mightimidget to assure myself she was actually there.

The Ferns arrived pretty quickly. I was very nervous to meet them, because I had known them fairly well for some time and I didn't want to disappoint them by who I was in person. I must have seemed very quiet and cold when I said hello to them.

We headed out to Yellow Leader's that night. I don't even remember the drive to his house anymore; I was so overwhelmed. Someone went down to call the boys up from the basement, and soon Wolfsong and Kryos came dashing up the stairs. I remember shaking Wolfsong's hand and thinking he was friendlier than I expected. For the next thirty minutes, Wolfsong was trying to teach Kryos everyone's names.

We all got sticky note nametags, and before long were eating. I was on the back porch with EveningStar and the Ferns. I was trying to make Telpe drink water, while trying to make myself eat. Soon all the name tags got switched - I remember seeing the dog run past with my name tag stuck to her, and then later sitting down on a couch and grabbing a pillow to find that my own name tag was stuck to it. I was wearing Yellow Leader's for much of the evening, though I don't remember who I got it from.

When the van with the TN and GA crew arrived. I stood flattened against a wall, watching everyone get out. These were some of the people I'd known for longest - Warrior Maiden, Lissi, Elya, Legossi. I wondered if any of them wanted to say hello to me. I walked closer and stood on the outside of the ring of people. No one noticed me, so I went back and stood against the wall again. Eventually Legossi (who I had met before) came up and said hello and gave me a hug. I don't know if I've ever been more glad of a hug in my entire life.

There are so many scattered memories of that first evening. I remember Child playing "How to Save a Life" on the piano, and I remember working up the courage to talk to her briefly. I remember that I talked to Warrior Maiden briefly, and wanted to talk more but was too afraid to keep trying.

Those first few days were basically a continuation of that (though somewhat improved). I enjoyed the activities in small groups best - my favorite memory from the first five days is going to get Caspian at the airport on Monday with Mangy, Lissi, Midget, Child, Mar, and Eowyn. Afterwards Child, Caspian, and I got the lasagna in the oven at Mangy's and we all stood around talking. I think that was the first time I actually enjoyed myself at all.

I fought with myself so much those first five days, trying to learn to talk to people, to smile, to laugh, to hold a conversation without feeling terrified that they'd see through my disguise and realize how incredibly insecure I actually was. I went back to our host's house and cried myself to sleep four out of those first five nights. One night I locked myself in the bathroom and cried and threw things until I felt better, even though I knew it was childish. I felt stranded, and stressed, and alone, and like there was something terribly wrong with me for feeling like that.

The turning point of the whole trip for me was the car accident on Tuesday. We were in a van with 9 girls, and another driver pulled up right into our blind spot as we were turning. There was a bump and everyone screamed. We'd scraped the front of the other car. We lost a hub cap and took some minor scraping, and the front of her car was dented a little.

Most of you who know me well have heard the story of the next two hours many times. Something weird happened in the two and a half hours I spent sitting by the road, helping deal with the other driver and the police officer when he arrived. I forgot myself. I remember praying and giving those hours to God, trusting Him to work things out according to His perfect will. I focused on helping the others around me, at that point particularly the friend who had been driving the van. By that evening I was stressed, sunburned, exhausted, and dehydrated, but something had changed.

The next few days were better. The play was incredible - I found the courage to get up on stage and perform for the first time in years. This was a huge milestone for me. One of my favorite memories is the night I got to sleep over at Mangy's. Mangy, Silver Eagle and I got snacks ready for the next day, Midget crashed on the futon, and Child and Eowyn sat on the living room floor watching Monty Python while Rasi RPGed on her laptop. I loved driving up Pike's Peak. I'll never forget the crazy conversations with Wolfsong and Kryos, how helpful and kind Caspian was (even when our van broke down for the third time), the way it snowed (in JUNE). The insanity of organizing a group picture, eating grapes and crackers and cheese in the cold. Then there was the camping trip. To this day I have no idea why I chased Wolfsong over the mountainside because he stole the marshmallows, but I don't regret it. We all went out and howled at the moon together, and we talked until past 1:00 a.m., even when the fire died down and we were standing shivering by dying embers.

It was the last two days of the moot that I actually felt completely accepted and at home (yes, it took me that long). For the first time I hated to be separated from the group, and I would beg my mother and my roommates to move faster every time we had to go back to the house for something and be away from the action for a while. I don't want to detail the last two days much for personal reasons, but I guess the most important events of the moot really happened then for me.

I remember saying goodbye - hugging everyone, climbing into the big gray van. Sticking my hand out the window and holding onto peoples' hands until the van's motion pulled me away from them. I put earphones in and listened to "Say Goodbye" by Skillet.

It's been a year now. Since that moot I've seen relationships change drastically. I've been through one incredibly difficult and painful year of college, and I have survived. I've seen some of those CPers again, and it's meant more than I could express. Some I may never see again. But there's something I carry with me from those ten days, and it's something I never, every want to lose: the concept of unconditional love. The moot totally changed the way I interact with other people. You know my whole concept of everyone being fragile on the inside? It was the moot that originally started that. It was the moot that taught me that no matter where someone's coming from, what habits or beliefs they have that conflict with yours, no matter how far away they live... no matter how much they hurt you, they are beautiful and worth being loved in spite of all the ugly bits. That's what God did for me. That's what I want to do for other people. That is the legacy left in my heart by the Clean Place Moot 2008.

With time and distance separating me from those ten days, someone might ask me now to sum up what I feel about the Moot. I think I would say something like "It was one of the biggest milestones of my life. It was also overwhelming, exciting, fun, chaotic, stressful, moving, painful, beautiful, and absolutely terrifying." I would have to pause for a moment and smile before finishing with "and guess what? I'm doing it all over again in two months. I can't wait."

If you're an 08 Mooter reading this? I love you more than words can express. God bless.

- Elraen, the Wandering Star

Why I Should Drink Water

This morning was one of those mornings. The kind where I found that my siblings had moved my coffee, and I couldn't find it. The kind where my 8-year-old brother dropped raw eggs on the floor and didn't want to clean them up. The kind where I was wearing extremely mis-matched socks and didn't care anymore. The kind where I had a major homework project done and had been up later than I'd wanted to be.

I hurried out the door with chai instead of coffee (as the coffee was lost). I got to British Literature class, and we had a devo. Dr. W had promised we'd take a “field trip” to his office this morning, as we were talking about Bible translation and he had some things he wanted to show us. We all crowded into his office – 12 of us, in a rather small room. One whole wall was covered with framed pages from all sorts of Bible translations, ranging back to the 1500s – one page was hand written because it was copied before the printing press was invented. He talked to us about each one and went into its history. I was paying close attention, because it was interesting.

It got very, very warm in the office. The air conditioner hasn't been working right on that side of the hallway apparently, and the bodies were closely packed. I started spacing out, and couldn't focus on what Dr. W was saying. I remember thinking about The Last Night by Skillet, as I often do, and my thoughts got stuck in a circle, words repeating themselves and refusing to come into focus. I felt like I needed a drink. I figured we'd be back in the classroom soon enough, and I could get a drink then and sit down. Then it felt like something was shutting off in my brain, like I had been locked away in a glass room. It was the weirdest feeling in the world.

Images flashed in front of my eyes – images of friends, of family, of a Skillet concert, a circus. It didn't make sense, and I was confused. Then I saw a face I seemed to recognize but couldn't place, a guy with blond hair.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked.

Then I recognized him as RJ, the guy who sits beside me in Brit. Lit. Why was he here? Wasn't I at home? Or was I in the classroom? And why was I on the ground? Was this a dream? I blinked, but the situation didn't go away.

“Yeah, I'm alright,” I said, giving the typical answer and feeling somewhat confused.

“Hurry, lay her out on the floor. We need to get her feet elevated, and I'll put her head in my lap,” Ellie was saying, a sweet girl who sits on the other side of the room from me.

Dr. W was handing Ellie something. I saw my friend M, who's in the class with me, glancing at me and walking away. I was so confused. I was on the ground, and RJ brought in a damp paper towel that they put on my forehead.

It finally processed that I'd passed out, there in my professor's office. Dr. M, a Bible teacher who I respect and admire (but had never met in person before), was there telling them to bring me to the hallway where it was cooler. I think I walked, but then they had me lie down again. The secretary was there. She asked if I wanted her to call my father (who, for those of you who don't know, works at my University). I said I was pretty sure he was doing a set-up in this same building. By this point I was thinking clearly. Ellie was fanning me, but all my other classmates were back in the classroom with Dr. W. They were saying that I was starting to regain color, and that I'd been white as a sheet a moment before.

The head of security came in before too long. He took my pulse and asked me a few questions. He asked what we'd been doing, and I explained, and he and Dr. M both agreed that maybe I passed out from sheer boredom, but told me not to tell Dr. W they said that. I laughed. It was a really weird way to be introduced to some of these people, but every time I tried to apologize for causing trouble they told me not to.

After a while lying down, they let me sit up, and then even sit in a chair. There was a long debate on whether or not to call EMS in. I decided now would be a bad time to mention that I had a deathly fear of all things medical, as it really wasn't my call to make. They eventually decided not to. The head of security said he was guessing that it was just heat, not enough to drink, standing for a long time, and so on. I'm guessing it also had something to do with having too little sleep. The head of security offered to drive me home, as I wasn't supposed to walk. Ellie brought me my stuff from the classroom. She was incredibly sweet – I'd never even talked to her before, and she went way out of her way to help me. She told me to e-mail her if I needed a ride to class tomorrow morning. My father walked with me out to the security truck. I was driven home, and left with very strict instructions to rest for the rest of the morning and not to walk anywhere in the heat. I was told to drink and to stay cool.

I think at this point my greatest fear is that I knocked something over or broke something in my professor's office when I fell – I was too disoriented when I first came out of it to have any idea what I'd hit. I apparently banged my elbow (it's a little scraped up), but they say I didn't hit my head. Overall, I'm just glad I was allowed to go home without any more trouble, and I'm so incredibly grateful to everyone for being so nice and so helpful. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before, and I pray it never will again, so it was really just... weird.

I'm taking one very important lesson away from this: it's important to actually do things like drink water and sleep. So often I don't take care of myself because I feel it doesn't matter, it's a waste of time and energy, and I'm not worth it. I'm understanding now that actually, when I do stupid things (like not drinking water and not sleeping or eating enough), it's causing those around me trouble in the long run. Not taking the few extra seconds to make sure you're functioning right is actually self centered. I'll have to remember that next time I'm tempted to skip meals or to stay up way too late.

The biggest plus of the whole experience? Going home from class an hour early and not being allowed to go into work. I have my midterm tomorrow and a huge project to finish by Friday, and now I have time to do it at home as well as to relax. In a sense, this is a blessing. I'm so much less stressed now than I was.

- Elraen -