Home for Christmas

...I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams...

The curse of an international student is not going home for Christmas. I love it when people don't realize that home is 8,000 miles away and that it is quite impossible to go home. Then, when I tell them that I'm not going home for Christmas, they feel bad for me. Honestly, I don't know how I feel about not going home for Christmas. The last time I was home for Christmas was in 2005, three years ago.

I am blessed with people that are concerned about me. I've had five (or even more) people invite me to spend Christmas with them, and I'm very grateful and touched. For two years, since I've been in the States, I've spent Christmas with my parents. This is my first Christmas without them. A part of me, though, don't want to spend Christmas at someone else's family. No matter how kind the people are, I will only be a guest. It'll constantly remind me that I'm not with my family. This part of me thinks that it might be better for me to stay in my apartment and chill. I still don't know what I'll decide to do for Christmas.

This brought me to another thought. Family. Yes, I miss my parents, my cousins, and my friends that are all back home. My best friend, Kristi's parents are coming here to spend Christmas with her and her sister. A part of me is quite jealous because they get to see their parents. But I had a realization that is quite astounding (at least for me). I do have a family here.

I have Jordan and Brittany, Jason and Breanne, Anna, Jeff, Leah, Alysha, Kevin, Aaron, Rocky...

Throughout these two years that I've spent in this foreign land, I have gained myself a family. It's pretty disfunctional, but I love them all very much. When I look back, these were the people that celebrated birthdays, Christmas, etc. with me. When I feel like crap and endured so-called friends that are really jerks, these people are the ones I turn to. I don't have to try to be someone I'm not. These people know me (they don't just claim to know me) and love me just the way I am. With them, I can relax and put my guard down. My idea of relaxing and having fun is going over to Jordan and Brittany's and playing games or going over to Jason and Breanne's to just chat. (After hanging out with them for almost two hours, I recover from feeling like crap.) I've always told people that if I have a prospective significant other, they would have to go through Jordan, Brittany, Jason, and Breanne.

So... apparently, home is not where your parents are or where your citizenship is. Because when these people are around, I know I'm home.

The Best Thing that Happened to Me Today

My daddy called me at 7:30am today. On other days, that might be the worst thing that could happen to me. But today, it was the best thing that could have happened to me.

Last night, I dreamed that my dad died. I didn't know how or why that thought crept into my subconscious as I drift to a deep and restless sleep, but it did. I was just so devastated, I barely can breathe.

My phone rang at 7:30am and it took me a couple of seconds to realize that the noise came from my phone, which was right next to my pillow. I wasn't even half awake when I answered, whispering so I didn't wake Sandra.

"Darling? Are you awake?" I heard the familiar sound of my dad's voice. I only answered with a grunt, but I was so relieved beyond belief.

To those that might have not figured this out yet, I am very much my daddy's girl. And I would trade anything to be with him right now. There's nowhere else I'd rather be than home.

1 year, 6 months, and 2 days
78 weeks
548 days
13,152 hours
789,120 minutes
47,347,200 seconds
... until I get to go home.

The Great Chasm Between an X and a Y

A conversation with a friend last week sparked a thought that ends up consuming a lot of my time lately. We were talking about how men in ministry attract attention from females around them. Men that love God and are passionately serving God are hot! There. I said it. Don't get me wrong, there is no sarcastic tone whatsoever in that statement. I, personally, agree with that statement. When guys are displaying leadership in the ministry, by leading worship or preaching the word of God or leading small groups or even running sound, it’s attractive.

Now I am looking at the flip side of the same coin.

It occurs to me that when ladies display leadership in the ministry, the men around them get intimidated. I know that there are ladies that are too dominant or controlling or overbearing, but I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about women that are passionate about God and have hearts for the ministry. Is it a crime for a woman to lead worship, preach the word of God, lead small groups, pastor, or even run sound? Are women that are actively involved in ministry a threat to men? Why?

I never knew that an X could be that much different than a Y.

Aku Ingin Pulang

Ayah,

aku ingin pulang...

Aku lelah... Tak tahan lagi

ku benci semua yang ada di sekelilingku

termasuk diriku

Kenapa?

Kenapa semua harus terjadi padaku?

Tak bisakah aku dapati kehidupan lain

Di mana aku tidak harus gagal dalam segala hal

Ayah,

aku tak tahan lagi...

Tak bisakah kau bawa aku pulang?

Ke pelukmu

Di mana tak ada lagi tangis

Tak ada lagi pedih

Aku tak tahan lagi

Tolong, bawa aku pulang

Ke tidur abadi, nyenyak tanpa mimpi

Tanpa ada lagi satu pun yang dapat membangungunkan ku kembali

Di mana aku dapat melepas semua - cinta, sahabat, hidup

Ayah,

Aku ingin pulang

February 16, 2007

Tirza Magdiel





I wrote this poem a year and a half ago. I was clearly very homesick and pretty drained, exactly how I'm feeling right now. I'll go into how I'm feeling later on. I should probably provide an understandable translation for this poem in a language you all understand. Disclaimer: since it's translated it won't be as pretty sounding as it would be in Indonesian, but at least you get the gist of it.

I Want to go Home

Daddy,

I want to go home...

I'm tired... I can't stand it anymore

I hate everything that's around me

including myself

Why?

Why are all these things happening to me?

Can't I have another life

Where I don't have to fail at everything

Daddy,

I can't stand this anymore...

Can't you just bring me home?

To your embrace

Where tears no longer exist

Where there's no pain

I can't stand it anymore

Please, take me home

To the eternal slumber, peaceful without dreams

Where no one could wake me

Where I can let go of everything - love, friendship, life

Daddy,

I want to go home

I love my iPhone

I'm actually writing this blog to test out whether or not this mobile
blogging thing is working. So like about two weeks ago-ish, I got my
iPhone. It's just so convenient coz I get to do much more than just
phone-ing.... And I get to blog too!
I did consider getting a Palm Centro, but I really wanted an iPhone.
So I stuck with the iPhone... For now, I'm quite satisfied. I'm kind
of wondering though if iPhones are any good to use back in Indonesia.
Will one be able to get full use of all the features? Coz, here, I use
AT&T to begin with, so it just works well...

Tirza Magdiel
(206) 724-8222

Sent from my iPhone

Island of the Gods: Revisited

It's been one whole year since I went to Bali. The last time I visited the exotic island was with my friends for our church camp. My experience going to Bali with my friends is something I will never ever forget. This year's Bali trip is also one that I will never forget. Whereas last year, I went to Bali with my friends, this year I went with my parents. You see, that in itself is already a miracle. The last time my parents were in Bali was close to about thirty years ago. Imagine that! So what triggered my parents to go to one of my favorite vacation spots? Here's the story. My dad went and preached at a church this one Sunday in the beginning of May. After the service, two ladies came up to him and asked him if he could please fly to Bali and pray for their villa there. My dad wasn't very interested in doing that, so he politely came up with excuses not to go there. These two ladies kept on asking my dad, though, if he had the time to pray for their villa in Bali. My dad nonchalantly brought the subject up in a conversation with me and my mom. I jumped at the thought of going to Bali, and asked my dad why he won't go to Bali and bring us along with him for a short holiday. So with very minimal persuasion, my dad decided to go to Bali & bring us along with him. To cut the story short, my dad told the lady's secretary that we're coming with him to Bali. Lo and behold, they decided to pay for all three of us to go to Bali... AND, they are letting us stay in one of their villas! We thought that that was a good deal! The reality far exceeded our expectations. We checked in and got our boarding pass, but, strangely, along with our boarding passes, we each got an "Executive Lounge Voucher." I, naively, thought to myself: wow, Garuda's really improved their service. It didn't dawn on us until we got on the plane. Our seats were in rows 2 and 3. The small number should have been a clue, but I guess weren't looking for an anomaly. We were put in Executive Class, while we were expecting to be in Coach. It was a new experience. I have never traveled in Business or First Class before. This was a change I embrace without complaint. It would just be very comfortable to travel to and from the United States (the 18-hour plane rides) in First Class. This was the first time during the trip that I said aloud: life is beautiful. We got to Ngurah Rai Airport in Bali at 6:45pm. A driver picked us up to get us to the villa in Seminyak. The resort and villa is called SILQ at the Kerobokan. It was amazing. They have 17 suites, 2 junior suites, and a penthouse. I went in the villa set aside for us and gaped. (It was a suite, by the way.) We had a private pool and a private jacuzzi. The room was amazing! The bathroom was amazing! And the service was to die for! I think it's a personal butler service type.So it's like having our own butler! They serve us breakfast in the room. And they provided us with a car and a driver to go wherever we want to. The best thing is: we didn't have to pay anything.Oh my, there's really nothing more I can say. Life is beautiful.

"No, Thank You, John"

I first encountered this poem in my British Literature II class. I fell in love with the poem from the first time I laid eyes on it. I think that all the feelings communicated by the poem are dead right. I have to second Rosetti's opinion. Part of why I love this poem so much is because it communicates my feeling for a certain person in my life. It's interesting that when I read this poem out loud in class, Jason thought of the exact same person as I did. And plus, I'm into the darker sarcastic (and pretty cruel) humor shared in this poem. In short, I LOVE IT!

"No, Thank You, John."
Christina Rossetti

I never said I loved you, John:
Why will you tease me day by day,
And wax a weariness to think upon
With always "do" and "pray"?

You know I never loved you, John;
No fault of mine made me your toast:
Why will you haunt me with a face as wan
As shows an hour-old ghost?

I dare say Meg or Moll would take
Pity upon you, if you'd ask:
And pray don't remain single for my sake
Who can't perform that task.

I have no heart? - Perhaps I have not;
But then you're mad to take offence
That I don't give you what I have not got:
Use your own common sense.

Let bygones be bygones:
Don't call me false, who owed not to be true:
I'd rather answer "No" to fifty Johns
Than answer "Yes" to you.

Let's mar our pleasant days no more,
Song-birds of passage, days of youth:
Catch at today, forget the days before:
I'll wink at your untruth.

Let us strike hands as hearty friends;
No more, no less; and friendship's good:
Only don't keep in view ulterior ends,
And points not understood

In open treaty. Rise above
Quibbles and shuffling off and on:
Here's friendship for you if you like; but love,
No, thank you, John.

What happens after you say good bye?

On August 16, 2006, I left my home country to go to the United States. That was a very exciting yet heartbreaking time in my life. I was nervous and excited to go to an unknown land, full of new adventures. On the other hand, I was living out Ella Fitzgerald's hit, "Every Time We Say Goodbye" - I cried a little, died a little. Throughout the years prior to my departure, I have gained the love and friendship of a new family, a close knit group of friends that do almost everything together. When I said goodbye to these wonderful people, I left a big chunk of my heart back home in Jakarta.

Don't get me wrong. We're all still friends. Everything is just... well... different.

Okay, let me sort of try to explain where I'm coming from. I just got back here about a week ago. I couldn't describe to you how I felt the days prior to going home. I was kind of nervous and, inside, I really wished I could chicken out and not go home. The $1,600 already paid for airfare forced me to board that airplane. Some might ask why I felt that way, especially since I haven't gone home for nearly a year. I guess the reason why I felt the way I did was the sudden realization that when I come back home and meet up with my friends, I will find that things are not as I remembered it. My fear proved to be true. I came back and saw my friends at church again. I felt as if I didn't belong there anymore. During the two years I have spent away in college, I have changed. I no longer think the same way I thought two years ago. I no longer act the way I did two years ago. But I am not the only person that changed. My friends did too. They had birthdays and other interesting changes. They stumbled across new inside jokes that I know not the origin. I'm now back for the summer, and it's pretty intimidating to hang out once again with my friends. They are still my friends. They still want to hang out with me. Some things, like Josh's big bear hugs (thank God!) never change. But things are just different. I used to walk into the church gallery and feel like I'm at home. Now, I come in and I feel so out of place.

I realize that it's really nobody's fault. Nothing can stay the same forever. Things are bound to change. It's unnatural for things to permanently stay the same. I know that the reason why this realization hits me hard like a brick wall was because I've been running like every thing is the way it was when I left it two years ago. I think part of my slow thought process comes from my selfish wish for their world to stop when I'm not around. In my head, I never fully comprehended that after I left, my friends moved on with their lives. I also think that part of why this bugs me so much is because I have never been a lover of change. I want things to be the same and predictable. Maybe that explains why I rarely can branch out. When I go to the Aerie, I order a tall vanilla latte. I wouldn't order anything else. When I go to Starbucks, I order a caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle. When I go to Sarduccis, the only thing I ever get is ravioli with meatballs and garlic bread. But friends cannot be compared to coffee or food. They are people. And, of course, people change.

I guess the only thing I can do right now is accept the change and run with it until I get to the next brick wall.

Among the Clouds

I officially arrived back to my home country on the 3rd of June, 2008, at 1:11pm. It has been a long awaited arrival. In order to fully grasp the reason behind my misery-filled seventeen hours bonding time with one (or, to be accurate, two) Economy class seats on two China Airlines aircrafts, one must care to note all the wonderful embellishment that life seems to throw my way.

Okay. Enough with the ornamentations and pretty words. So, my Sunday started out as planned until it came the time for me to move out and check out from my room. We [Anna & I] told Marissa, our RA, that we were going to check out at 2:30pm. It turned out that I own a lot of stuff (surprise, surprise). I had to haul all the things I’m not bringing home to storage, and then pack all my things in a suitcase and a duffel bag, and stuff all that in Anna’s Honda Passport. We officially left at 4:00pm, an hour later than what we planned. We arranged that Anna would drop me off at Sandra’s house in Puyallup on her way down to Oregon, so that I could hang out and catch up with Sandra and then Sandra could give me a ride to the airport at 10 that night.

Anyways, one of my concerns about flying out is the weight of my baggage. I totally think that limiting the baggage weight to 50 pounds per baggage item is ridiculously stupid. (Well, I guess it’s not stupid. It’s just very inconvenient.) Anyways, it’s interesting that both my suitcase and my duffel bag are right around 50 pounds. One is like 50 pounds exactly, while the other is around 48 pounds. They’re both really cutting it close. I brought my purse and my violin with me. When the person asked, how many carry-ons are you bringing with you, I answered two. He looked at the violin and was going to have me check my violin in. Before he could finish his sentence, I told him firmly, this violin is going with me. In my head, it was far ruder. I wasn’t going to let my violin be banged around by their people into little pieces. I am not even done paying for the thing! I think I had the I’m-not-accepting-no-for-an-answer look and so he cowered and asked his coworker. She looked at it and said, “What is that?” And before I had the chance to answer her, she said the stupidest thing I have ever heard come out of a person’s mouth: “Oh, it’s a guitar. You can bring your guitar with you.” I was offended. This is nothing the size of a guitar. I was so appalled I just walked away without saying a thing.

All in all, I would say that the flight from Seattle to Taipei was the worst flight I have ever been on in my entire life. You see, there’s one thing you might want to know about me. My parents love to travel. I first went on an airplane when I was 3 ½ years old. After that, I was constantly going places on planes. I am very used to airplane rides, even 20 hours of flight. I also have a strong stomach, so I never had to use the paper bags they kindly provided in the seat pockets. My mom used to put rolls and butter in them. This flight witnessed me regurgitating on an aircraft for the very first time. So the last three hours of my thirteen-hour flight was decorated with extreme turbulence. It got to the point where people fell down when walking or standing up. It was awful. I was getting a headache but I was doing okay. The thing that triggered the reverse of my peristalsis was the fact that the gentleman sitting next to me took his shoes off and his feet ranked. On top of that, someone in the area had excruciatingly bad BO. I was out. As soon as the fasten-your-seatbelt sign went off I hurried to the bathroom and threw up. I felt a little better afterwards. Then when it was time for a meal, they had the option of some kind of porridge and so I gladly took that option – to the delight of my poor stomach.

The rest of my trip wet a lot better. I had a layover at Taipei for about 3 ½ hours. I had time to eat real food (which cost a fortune - $9 for a bowl of noodles and $3 for bottled water) and freshen up. Then I boarded a plane heading to Jakarta.

When we landed and I stepped out into the ramp, I could feel the rush of humidity wash over me like waves on a beach. All of a sudden, I felt sweaty and sticky. Yuck. O well, I don’t know whatever adventure lay in front of me, but I think this next 3 months will be interesting, to say the least.

The Curse

The idea of the curse inhabited my mind since it brought unnecessary complication to my life - forcing me to keep in hand the no-thank-you-let's-just-be-friends card.

Anyways, back tot he initial topic - the curse. The curse that has been intertwined in the fibers of my being is my memory. I remember.

You might think, that is nothing unusual. I remember more than what average people care to. I can't just choose not to remember. I have no choice. I remember everything.

I remember when I was little, I disobeyed my mom and went swimming alone. It was very silent. I felt very lonely. My mom knew I was missing and found me there. She blew up (to say the least). I remember that "incident" to this day. I remember what I was wearing; I remember what the pool looked like. I also remember what shade of lipstick my mom was wearing.

Some people would probably comment: so what, remembering is a good thing. Well... not really. Yes. To a certain extent, remembering things is a good thing. I remember birthdays, and anniversaries, and funny incidents, and many other things. But there are things - places, people, images, and events - that I would gladly give up. There are things one would like to bury so deep inside that one's mind can never recall ever again. But I can't forget those, no matter how hard I try.

So I think of this as a curse because my memory was misunderstood as a sign of affection by a person. I am so sorry, but I don't mean to mislead you. I am not interested in being anything but friends.

Just like a coin, there are two opposite sides of my memory. It is a good thing and a bad thing, a gift and a trick, a blessing...

and a curse.

Definitely Not PG

Disclaimer: I am NOT, by any means, saying that God condones things portrayed in our world's view of R-rating (drugs, violence, sex, and excruciatingly bad language). So don't misquote me.

I grew up in a Christian home, and, thus, was highly exposed to movies and books that depicts Bible stories. There are really nothing wrong with them. They are nice. They are good. They are consistent with the Bible. They are... clean.

I fully understand that these people made movies and books out of Bible stories for the whole family to enjoy. That is why they area all rated PG, or even G. A few weeks ago, in the middle of the chaos I call "Dead Week and Finals Week," I took a study break and began thinking about random subjects. God is the Master Storyteller. He came up with characters, conflicts, plot twists, and scenes none of us can even try to imagine. As I conversed with my roommate, who was also tired of studying, we got to the subject of how Bible stories really should not be rated PG. In a sense, they should be rated R.

Let's start someplace near the very beginning. Ah, the very first murder. Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is nowhere near PG-rated. A brother murdered his younger brother with a huge jagged rock. No clean and bloodless strangulation. No poisoning with wild herbs. Cain repeatedly hit his brother and did not stop until his brother lay lifeless, blood oozing freely from his open wounds.

Next comes the scene where a father was asked, by God, to sacrifice his one and only son as a burnt offering. I don't even want to start imagining that one. The whole idea of a father ending the life of his own flesh and blood and sets it ablaze on top of an altar could never ever fall under the category of something PG. It is an image no morally normal human being want to have in his or her mind.

Lot's daughters, after the catastrophe of Sodom and Gomorrah, got their father drunk and slept with him. Now that is an image I don't care to have in my head.

Dinah, Jacob's daughter, was raped. The Bible said that she was "violated." Out of anger and revenge, her brothers, Simeon and Levi, had the men of Shechem be circumcised and murdered. That was a massacre. Simeon and Levi killed every male in that city.

Our world is quite familiar with the idea of sexual seduction. (Don't act like you're surprised I just said that. It's everywhere! Try watching tv for a couple of hours.) Gorgeous women with sexy, seductive clothes on markets cars, cigarettes, computers, and many other things. The story of Joseph in the Bible went under a lot of censoring. When Potiphar's wife seduces Joseph, I am sure she did not only say, "Come to bed with me!" I'll leave you to your imagination and the influence of today's media to come to the same conclusion I did: this story's not PG either.

The ten plagues, the wrath of God spilled on the Egyptian kingdom, was nowhere near clean. It's gruesome. And gross. Death and destruction were everywhere. Water makes up 70% of the world's surface; when in place of water, you find fresh, thick blood, you feel so sick - the kind of nauseating sickness you feel after you watched "Sweeney Todd" - you wish you were dead. The plague of frogs was not where a bunch of cute harmless frogs come and play with you; they were slimey and gross, and you decide that you would rather starve to death than eat things contaminated by the slime and the smell of those amphibians. Now I come from a country that is located conveniently on the Equator. It is extremely hot and humid there. You find flies everywhere, but you can live with that because you can still drive them away from you. But when you look up the sky and it is covered with flies that sunlight cannot even pierce through their ranks, fear grips every single nerve in you. Talking about fear, it is normal for anyone to be afraid, or just to be more guarded, in the dark. However, when you are in the dark, you have the hope that the next day, the sun will come out and drive the darkness away. But when what was supposed to be day and night is inseparable, and darkness so thick you cannot see your hands in front of you engulfs, it unnerves even the bravest of heroes. And last of all, their own flesh and blood, lay lifeless in their hands. No one without blood smeared on their door frames were spared. I love how the Bible depicts it: "At midnight the LORD struck down all the firstborn in Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh, who sat on the throne, to the firstborn of the prisoner, who was in the dungeon, and the firstborn of all the livestock as well. Pharaoh and all his officials and all the Egyptians got up during the night, and there was loud wailing in Egypt, for there was not a house without someone dead" (Ex 12.29-30 NIV). I'm quoting the movie, "In Her Shoes," where an old lady commented, "A parent burying a child goes against the law of nature." And that, the most gut-wrenching plague that can ever descend on humanity, was what gave the Israelites their freedom. Was all that PG? I'll let you decide that one.

Moses, the renowned leader of the Israelites, the man who led the people of God out of slavery, murdered an Egyptian man. I love Dreamworks' "Prince of Egypt," but a murder is not clean. It's violent. Then we skip a few scenes to see Israel in the period of its conquest of the Promised Land. When they come and conquer a place, they were told to spare no one. Not even women and children. Imagine blood everywhere. Imagine dead bodies everywhere. Imagine lifeless children everywhere.

Let's jump to the story of Ruth; it's one of my favorite Bible stories. You might revisit the story and think, what part of it is not PG? The part where Ruth comes to the threshing floor and revealed her intentions or agenda, or whatever it is you'd like to call it, to Boaz. I love how, growing up, I've always picture the scene just like how it was portrayed in one of those old movies I watched: Boaz went to a party, he was tired, and then he went to rest at the threshing floor when Ruth came. (Yes, because the threshing floor is one's first choice to rest on.) Realistically? Boaz was out partying all night, eating and drinking. He was drunk! And then he passed out on the threshing floor. That was what Ruth saw when she came to him. I am just imagining Boaz's reaction when he woke up to see Ruth laying there. What is she doing here? Did we...? Did something happen? Oh crud. I'm sure Ruth had to calm him down, saying something like: "No, nothing happened. Calm down. Breathe. I have a question, though. Do you mind marrying me?" That would have been a hilarious scene to watch.


Now let's travel to Ruth's great grandson, the man that brought forth Israel's golden age. From his childhood, David has had to deal with wild anymals. Mind you, these are not animals from the zoo that have been accustomed to being oohed and aah-ed by people. These lions and bears are agile with their predator instinct still intact. These are the creatures David had to fight with. This man, unfortunately, had seen too many gory and bloody scenes, some too heart wrenching that I often wonder why David never lost his sanity. He had to see his son die, hanging by his beautiful hair from a tree, killed by David's own army commander. This same David was the king who stripped down and danced for the Lord shamelessly. David has also committed some foolish crimes of his own. One day, he was at the wrong place at the wrong time and saw this apparition - a beautiful woman bathing. His lust discarded all common sense and led him to take Batsheba, right there and then, even though he knew she was married. David then went above and beyond that. He murdered Bathsheba's husband, a good man and a good soldier. This particular story is very unfortunate; it involves sex, lust, and murder.

Songs of Solomon... Yeah, I won't even go there.

I'll jump straight to Jesus. You might ask, what do you have to say about Jesus being not PG? I think Jesus is not PG. He brings up ideas that challenge the mindset of the people around them. Some might think that he's coming up with wild conspiracy theories, or that he's delusional. But he's just providing us with a revelation that requires an individual much larger than humanity to provide. Jesus' death and suffering is one that can never be rated PG. It's much too horrific. I think Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" is as close to reality as it has ever been portrayed. "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay his life down for his friends." (John 15:13) Jesus was beaten, flogged, crucified. His beard was plucked out, he was paraded for all the world to see. He had nails hammered into his wrists and feet. His blood continually flowed out of his body, and he experienced pain like none other during those hours. Jesus is not "clean." He is most definitely not "safe," either. Like Aslan, from C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, Jesus is not "safe," but he is good.

I think I'm just rambling on and on and on. But the conclusion I have finally arrived to, after a few weeks of wandering thoughts, is that following God is not a "safe" thing. It's real. It's an adventure. If you're afraid to get hurt, or afraid of stepping on some toes, then you'll be very surprised. God is not safe, but he is good.

Leave It To Eve

Leave it to Eve to exaggerate matters;
Better yet, consider her a miracle maker.
For only Eve could create Atlantic from a salt shaker
Or form a betrothal from mere Platonic chatters.

Leave it to Eve to fall in love with timetrap
For she never could bear to exist in the present --
Living forever in yesterday's lament
Or skipping "hello" to "I do." (Oh poor chap!)

Leave it to Eve to be blinded by thoughts of love
And let one smile deceive her heart to soar.
She's left to see it shatter on the floor,
But that smile is the one thing she could think of.

Leave it to Eve to forget common sense
And say to a stranger, "I don't know you,
But you look kind of cute. So you'll just have to do."
Then, too late, she sees they can't even be friends.

Leave it to Eve to demand perfection
From all of creation except for Eve.
I'm afraid, dear girl, you are too naive,
And you're pushing your heart to dejection.

Leave it to Eve to rage in silence;
She expects Adam to be Merlin, and perceive,
Magically, that he has caused her to grieve.
But he's merely Adam, and for that she takes offense.

Leave it to Eve to mourn Adam's leave
(I really don't blame the man for escaping).
She complains he's creation's most obtuse thing,
But there's none as ridiculous as beautiful Eve.

Tirza Magdiel, April 27, 2008

This is what I have to say concerning my own gender. I would probably say that this poem is somewhat of a response to "Get A Clue." If boys are dumb, girls are ridiculous. I'm pretty sure that it is frustrating for guys to deal with girls. I'm sorry. There have been numerous times when I see girls being... well... girls, and there was nothing I can do but laugh. I am not excluding myself from the equation, because I, most definitely, was born with two X chromosomes and, thus, is prone to be ridiculously feminine. And so my final note to all the Adams out there: don't give up on your Eve.

Get A Clue

I've always said that boys are dumb. (Sorry,
History
Seems to agree with me.) Conveniently,
They're simply
Wired with an ON and OFF button. They complain,
Like in pain,
That girls are too complicated to perceive,
Then they leave
Us alone with our "complications." It is why,
I won't lie,
We have faders and knobs that pan left and right.
Quite a sight.

I don't say you're dumb because you're different.
What I meant
Was that you're too oblivious to notice
Obvious
Feelings. And when you finally do, you fear
What is near.
You're dumb because you leave and try to forget.
Then you get
It all of a sudden. But I won't be there, dear.
Shed no tear,
It's your fault you fail to grasp simple "I love you."
Get a clue.

Tirza Magdiel, April 2008

In Brit Lit II this semester, we were supposed to write a poem mimicking one of Robert Browning's poem. For that class, I wrote a poem called "Home." However, I was kind of frustrated this one day and started thinking about random things. I got thinking about why boys are dumb and came up with another poem mimicking a Browning poem. I'm not man-hating, I could tell you that for sure. I just have heard that phrase being thrown around a lot. Even I would use it a couple of times in different occasions. In high school one of my friends came up with this:

Guys are stupid, guys are dumb
All they do is just chew gum

Guys are stupid, guys are dumb
They say they will but they don't come

Something like that. So I ventured to try to explain why girls can say that guys are dumb. And I came up with this poem. I'm not bitter. I'm not mad. I'm just trying to communicate the frustration that girls experience when dealing with guys. It is a known fact that we, the female species, can never fully understand guys.

Home

My feet feel the warmth of my dream's promised land
Of white sand
And my gaze traced the curve of never ending gold,
Where the cold
Blue waves brush gently against it. I lift my face,
And with grace,
The wind caressed my cheeks and danced, without a care,
Through my hair.
I was there, by myself, and all I could hear
Was the clear
Voice of God and the wind and the sun and water
In laughter.

As Seattle's cold wind freezes my hands and feet,
My heartbeat
Longs for the rhythm of gurgling waves that crashes
Gold ashes
That peacefully lie in the sun's warm embrace;
The wind plays
With my hair instead of frosting it with ice,
And the nice
Gentle breeze brings laughter back to my voice
I rejoice
At the sight of my paradise, not just a poem.
I'll be home.

Tirza Magdiel, March 23, 2008

This is the mimic poem I wrote for my Brit Lit II class. It took me a whole century to get started with it. I didn't know what to write on. But amidst the coldness of Seattle March, I started thinking of this summer, when I get to go home. I picture myself, lying on the warm sand of Bali, and I knew exactly what I'm going to write on. I can't wait to go home and feel real sun again!