By place

Monthly Archives: February 2014

Violence and Choice in Dishonored

Now, I’m not going to pretend that how one chooses to play a video game necessarily says anything meaningful about their personal moral character.

Dying of Thirst

I try and roll out of the fetal position and into some semblance of a standing straight-back stretch, but I can’t hold the stretch for long though, because like I said, I am dying of thirst.

An Unexpected Response to “Pro-choice at Calvin”

If Chimes were to print only Synod-sanctioned journalism, it would have become merely propaganda. That’s not what we want for our students.

A Eulogy for My Grandfather

I miss listening to those stories. Still, I will never again hear him begin a tale with, “Did I ever tell you about…?” Yes, Grandpa, you did. But tell me again.

Vocation and Valyrian Steel

Imagine every other story you’ve ever loved. Imagine reading Harry Potter with the certainty that somebody’s going to Avada Kedavra the kid any page now.

8 Reasons Why I’m Glad I’m Not Published

Eight years ago yesterday, I announced I was a novel writer. So February 22 is Decision to Write Day, and I bust out the cake.

A Frost-y Weekend

A Frost-y Weekend

by | Feb 22, 2014

We climb on nature’s back to build a heavenly Babel, but it is nature that sets us back on earth, where we were created, where we belong.

Namaste…Maybe

Namaste…Maybe

A few poses after my micro-revelation, the yoga instructor said something similar. “We need to be comfortable in the uncomfortable, in yoga and in life.”

Valentine’s Birthday

Valentine’s Birthday

I tried to embrace my birthday by liking all heart-decorated things, making these symbolic of myself. I had a belt that was made of heart-shaped links. Things like that.

Hymns and Church and Me

Hymns and Church and Me

I stopped resenting hymns about the same time I decided in my heart to be a history minor. When I started studying the past, I quickly developed an involuntary joy in feeling connected to that past.

Men, Sports, and Such Things

Men, Sports, and Such Things

“Oh, you play fantasy football with your husband? That’s so cute!” It is not cute. It’s competitive and occasionally slightly unhealthy for our marriage.

Kiss the Sky

Kiss the Sky

Skaters face skull-cracking ice and flying metal blades; lugers zoom at 80 miles per hour. Hockey players lose teeth, skiers blow out knees.

Speed Skating in Sochi

Speed Skating in Sochi

The Olympics’ mythic weight translates perfectly into speed skating. Strength and finesse collide at exhilarating speeds, leaving little room for hesitation and even less for error.

Food of Love

Food of Love

“Miss, do you even love your husband anymore?” The truth is, I don’t really care about the lovey-dovey Valentine’s Day. What I do care about is our family tradition.

Solitude

Solitude

I’m not sure if it’s the grey skies, the bitter cold, or the profound solitude of post-college life, but She has taken residence in my thoughts once more.

Mom-I-Am

Mom-I-Am

Mom-I-Am. Pop-Hopper, Cat-Hatter. Roar!… I’m a dinosaur! Where’s Waldo, and why is he wandering off again? The words resign themselves to be simple for now, brown cow.

Eurydice

Eurydice

“Orpheus! what ruin hath thy frenzy wrought/On me, alas! and thee?/Dark sleep closes my swimming eyes. And now farewell:/with enormous night I am borne away.”

Holy Spirit Slap

Holy Spirit Slap

I’m sorry to be critical, but would you mind slapping those Christians who bookended her talk, God? Nicely, of course. Like with the power of the Holy Spirit?

Pathfinding

Pathfinding

I could see the red crowns of the bridge above the tree line. I couldn’t quite figure my next step. I was here. The bridge was there.

Lexington Minutemen

Lexington Minutemen

The cheerleaders sat in the bleachers and did muffled clapping and stomping routines. (The clapping was muffled on account of the mittens.)

I Smell Horses in Slovakia/How to See Deer

I Smell Horses in Slovakia/How to See Deer

When you are traveling with friends through rural Slovakia and your rental car gets broken into, you learn how to say “do piče.” It’s an expletive.

We Had Lived

We Had Lived

In case my brother dies before me, he and I have already planned his funeral. It will go, more or less, something like this:

When Life Gets Crazy, Make Spaghetti Squash*

When Life Gets Crazy, Make Spaghetti Squash*

My life didn’t become any less crazy after making spaghetti squash, just like it didn’t become any less crazy after eating ramen for lunch four days in a row.

Aquavitae: My Life in Four Drinks

Aquavitae: My Life in Four Drinks

We were servers, carrying trays of bruschetta between the tables and out onto the veranda where the sun was bright on the Lake and the bare shoulders of the bridesmaids. I was 17.

Feels Like the Movies

Feels Like the Movies

Alice also warned me that the inmates would shake our hands, wanting contact with the outside world, and when one lone student finally straggled in, he proffered his hand to both of us.

If Only for a Day

If Only for a Day

I consider the substitute’s plight to be a paradox of permanence. Our teacher is absent, the students reason, ergo, this person before us now is but a specter—or, at worst, a charlatan… POUNCE!

Pizza Week

Pizza Week

Somehow I have ended up eating pizza four times in the last six days. One of those was homemade with weird flour. It ended up shaped like a broccoli tree.