Monday Malarkey #7: Consumerism

I look in the mirror and see a girl slightly awkward; legs like sticks and a body lacking shape. What is the price of acceptance? I grab my coat and purse and head to the store, looking for ways to feel better. As I walk down each isle, I cannot help but notice the lights glaring uninvitingly down on me. My ears fill with the sound of the old eighties music that plays softly in the back-round. I reach the make-up isle and cannot help but feel like I am picking a new mask. I try on different colors hoping that one will make me stand out. All I want is to be beautiful. In the check-out line I glance at the cover of Cosmopolitan. The girl on it is wearing a small red dress. She is flawless with her curls lightly brushing her golden shoulders. I suddenly look to my make-up products and silently wish they were a magic potion – making me just as stunning as the girl on the magazine cover.

Now I am walking through the Apple store. The phones and computers lay in brightly lit cases. I look over my shoulder and watch as a salesman dressed in khaki pants wearing a big white smile comes over to me and says, “Can I help you with anything ma’am?”. I shake my head no because I somehow feel exposed. Somehow he knows my bank balance and that I couldn’t possibly afford anything in the store. I look longingly at all the gadgets, thinking that if I just had a nice phone my life would be so much better.

America. This is my America.

Monday Malarkey #6: Washington Crossing the Delaware

Washington stands at the front of the bow like a mighty lion gazing towards his kingdom. The cold wind whips through us like ice; even my bones feel chilled. Some men cough, some grumble. The days stretch on like this: rowing and rocking in the boat. Gunshots roar a deafening pitch and the sound of the flag cracking like a whip rings in my swollen ears. My lungs heave and I taste the hue of blood pooling in my saliva. The scent of death follows us, even haunts us in our sleep. “What are we fighting for?” I ask myself. The man standing beside Washington is holding the flag. His hands must be cold from clenching the rod.

I glance at Washington again. He stands confidently, his body erect on the side of the boat. His gaze is intently looking toward the morning light; toward land. He confuses me, because although his men grow weary and tired, he shows no sign of defeat. And I think to myself “This is what I’m fighting for; a land of freedom, not of fear.”

Monday Malarkey #5: Better

Tonight i had a wave of emotion hit me. So i decided to do what i know how to do best when my emotions run wild; write. So here you go, this is this Monday's Malarkey. It's definitely a stream of conscious poem. Enjoy!

Better

Post on ecollege by Monday the 17^th

I put my hands wearily over my eyes

 My body flashed heat and my eyes flooded with tears

Today is Monday and it’s too late

 My breath comes out in a staccato motion

 I’m just waiting to be better

 I’m just waiting to not be so clumsy and forgetful

 I am just waiting to be saved. A damsel in distress

I call out.No one comes.

I swear I was born on better days

Monday Malarkey #4: I am a pilgrim and this is my progress

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart."

~Helen Keller

 As I stood at the bottom of the mountain in the cool morning air as crisp and sharp as ice, I thought of the golden aspens that quivered in the sunshine. At first everyone was laughing and chattering about being up at six to climb a mountain. But as the trail got more narrow and the path more steep, our words eluded us.We climbed like the sleepy sun that rose with us. Some quit early complaining that the mountain was too steep and the air too cold. But i willed my legs to keep moving, pleading the sun to relieve me of the darkness.

I got most of the way up when i stopped. The sun's beams were peaking over the horizon now. It had been a straight up climb for the last twenty minutes and I stopped on a ledge with some others. The view was fantastic. Mountains lined the horizon and trees grew like a mold on the land. My friend looked down the mountain at the steep rocky terrain that lay below us and told me she was going to head back down. I looked at the cross on the top of the mountain and feeling the heaviness in my chest, I agreed to go back down with her. Then i heard a sweet voice.

  It was honey to my senses but now it was firm. Not harsh or mean, but firm. It was God's voice and he said My beloved, this is a symbol of your spiritual journey. Are you going to quit early or are you going to go all the way with me to reach the cross? I felt my heart leap in my chest and a smile crept on my face. "I'm going up" i announced.

The mountain got steeper and everywhere i stepped the dirt crumbled beneath my feet. I grew weary but kept my eyes on the cross and my mind on the sweetness of the Lord. It took me a while to navigate my way up to the top, but when i did i used my last bit of energy to hoist myself onto the rocks where the cross lay. "I made it" I thought. The sun was now a bright shining beacon on the horizon. I noticed garments laying on the cross and slipped the African bracelet that I wore on the cross as my contribution. The bracelet, that symbolizes my love for Africa and how God used me, a sinner, for his divine glory. This was all i had to offer him, but somehow I knew it was enough.

Thanks for reading, I post a new blog every Monday!!

Monday Malarkey #3: Home

Home. What does the word mean to you? This week the word had been hitting me hard. I called my parents from college and said goodbye with tears welling in my eyes. When I said goodbye on the phone I wasn’t simply saying goodbye to a conversation, but to a home. A motherly voiced that comforted and soothed, and a father’s laugh that filled the nights with joy. I said goodbye to friends. 

But I got to thinking about how I define the word “Home”. For me a home is anywhere that has captivated my heart. Uganda is a home. The other day I had to wash my shirt in the sink, and I could almost hear the chickens cackling in the back round, the smell of smoke permeating in the air. But most of all I could imagine Mamma’s hands as she wrung and washed the clothes encased by a back round of lush vivacity. When I got to the village we called her Mamma and it wasn’t till the end of the trip that I realized how much of a mother she had really been to me. She was the hen, sure and strong, and I was the chick tucking myself in her wing. Mamma taught me to be a servant with a smile. It is one thing to meet the needs of others, but it takes love to serve with a smile.

My heart also lies in the songs my mother plays on the piano. They range from light Disney show tunes to deep and romantic broadway songs. It seemed as though my life was so dull until her veiny hands would place themselves on the piano. She played as if life and energy moved through her fingers tips and then I would set my voice free like a bird caged until the final moment when the doors are thrown open. The songs that my mom played are a kind of home for me. 

“We will pay for bits of the southwest the way we will pay handsomely, in this generation or the next, for a home. Whatever that looks like; We find ourselves longing for some combination of Martha Stewart and what we can imagine, say, of our family seat in Brazil.” –Gish Jen (The Blair Reader).

So I ask you again, what is home to you? The smell of fresh peaches on a hot summer day? The soft and loving touch of a mother, grandma, or sister? Those are the places we find comfort after the long journey of life. I often think of myself as a sojourner reminiscing about home… forever dreaming of the land where I plant my weary feet.

Stay tuned for more Malarkey next Monday! Stay groovy :)

Monday Malarkey #2: My perspective on Football

So today I was sitting in western civ. and my professeur stops and says "Ladies, do you want to get married? Then educate yourselves on Fantasy Football." So that got me thinking that I should share with the world what I know about football.

1. I would marry Tim Tebow if he asked. Not necessarily because he plays football but because he is super sweet and awesome with his christian-ness.

2. Touchdowns are good and when there is a touchdown scored you need to stand up and go crazy. Victory dances are totally appropriate, even if you don't care at all about football.

3. The Raiders have cool Jersey colors... but the broncos not so much.

4. Peyton Manning will probably keel over any day now..

5. When you hear a guy talk about football it's best to always agree, and if necessary pretend you know what you're talking about.

6. I like the Raiders.. but I'm not entirely sure why.

7. I don't entirely understand the appeal of playing football. It's like signing up to get pushed around.

8. Guys who play football (Not all of course) are generally really cocky.

9. When invited to football parties, just go!! I can almost guarantee free football food (queso, chips, salsa, hot dogs, hamburgers, wings etc.).

This is my perspective on football as a college girl kissing 19. I think i can speak for my fellow females when i say, we may not know a whole lot about football but at least we can make it up as we go.  And if you want to read more Monday Malarkey, i will be posting a new blog every Monday. Have a great week everyone!