&oh, look, it's april 14th

So if you guys would please pray. I just wrote a letter to a girl I know asking her not to commit suicide and explaining the gospel to her.
Also right now I'm on my lovely friend Jodi's computer . . . the same one she uses to write her blog posts. Hi, Jodi! I hope you're having a wonderful time at dinner.
As an update to my life, I'd just like to say that I thought I had a plan for next year and now everything's all cattywampus and I am being asked to choose between two very different paths.  Woohoo, growing up is super fun. *sarcasm hand*
I'm trying to find a job so that I can pay my way to Summit this summer.
I get to play an austere British woman in a play here in a few weeks.
And I'm about to graduate high school forever.
And that's about it.
Toodle pip~
Christina Icarus

it's really wild, but i just don't have any words any more and no one seems to realize just how insane it's been driving me





if you want me to be honest

Selling thoughts, buying worlds

"They're just words from someone's brain."  Those words ring in my brain now, words that my father said last Thursday afternoon, driving me home from a class.  It's Sunday now, but they won't leave my head.
"I'll never think of books the same way, since you wrote Islander."
How do you mean? I asked, glancing away from the window for just an instant, the wind pushing my hair into my face as it sweeps by the car.
"I mean-- that's all books are.  They're just words from someone's brain."
It's true, that's all they are.  Just words-- and everyone has words-- that someone's thought up and transposed and is giving to you as part of their brain and part of their thought.  Anyone can write down words on paper and give them to anyone else, words to be absorbed into our own heads and considered and contemplated and enjoyed.
The rub comes in when you have to make your words good enough-- good enough that people want to take your thoughts and think them themselves.  You have to advance them to a place where people want them.  To get people to desire your words and crave your thoughts.
I have plenty of words.  Everyone does.  You just have to get them good enough so that people desire them.  Refine them.  Arrange them.  Force and prod and whip them into submission if you have to but your words have to be desireable -- you have to be good-- or what are you but a person with words in her head and sores on her hands from holding her pencil wrong for hours by candlelight?
Make people

crave your words

[and then you are a force to be reckoned with]

In Regards to the Future

Come and listen, come to the water's edge, all you who know and fear the Lord.
Come and listen, come to the water's edge all you who are thirsty, come.

February 24th.  A crazy day at my house-- full and insane and busy, so, so busy.  I was a bundle of anticipation, stress, nerves, terror, uncertainty.  I was a walking distaster, a ticking time bomb on a proverbial dam holding back countless future worries and the terribly dark waters of the unknown.

Let me tell you what He has done for me.
Let me tell you what He has done for me,
He has done for you,
He has done for us.

It was nap time.  Everything was quiet, my mom preparing for a trip with some girlfriends, my dad and brother at work.  I slunk up to the black formica countertop where she was working, looking sullen and despondant.  It only took one comment-- "I'm sorry you're having such a bad day"-- and I collapsed with my head in my hands. 
"I have no direction!"  I wailed, the tears filling my eyes.  "I'm a complete failure.  My life has just been one missed deadline after the other.  I missed the deadline for the March SAT, it's the end of February and I haven't filled out my FASFA, it's my final year of high school and I don't know where I'm even going to college, much less what for, and I have no idea and I'm still missing credits and I can't even function with this hanging over my head and I can't do this anymore!  I just can't do this!"
I was a mess.
"No, you're in a good place,"  my mom said, her voice comforting, just like I was a little kid again who had lost her hairbow to the vacuum cleaner, or had skinned her knee for the umpteenth time.  "You're where God wants you, relying on Him.  And you might not know what you want to do but that's okay, that's good.  It's good that you're waiting on Him."  She went on, but I was barely listening, too busy seeking out tissues with my hand like a blind person.
"Besides, maybe God doesn't want you to go to college. Maybe He has a wonderful young man waiting for you in the wings, or maybe He's planning something totally different that doesn't have anything to do with college . . ." She went on, and slowly my tears stopped.
But those words didn't leave my mind.

Come and listen,
come and listen to what He's done.
Come and listen,
come and listen to what He's done.

That night a dear friend came over and spent the night.  We lay in the spare bedroom, staring up at the dark ceiling, hardly lit by the small lamp we had turned on so we could see one another.  I was recounting the day, telling her my stress about the next year had peaked that day and I'd had a breakdown.

Praise our God for He is good.
Praise our God for He is good.
Praise our God for He is good.
Praise our God for He is good.

It was probably two in the morning.  And as we sat, she shared that she didn't want to follow the American dream.  To graduate high school, head to college, mold in a classroom for four years for a piece of paper, then get a good job, get married, have a few kids in the house with the picket fence, raise them, send them off, have grandkids, grow old, die.
"My mom's best friend graduated high school, and right after she moved to Hawaii with two friends, they all got jobs, and they lived there for a year.  And they just hardly got by but they had an experience and it was worth it.  They came back and went to college.  That's what I want-- an experience. I don't want the American dream, I want an experience. I don't want college.  I don't feel called there."
"I think that's great," I said, just listening.
"Wouldn't it be great to just move somewhere, get involved in some churches, and just minister to people?  Maybe I'd be poor, but I'd be living and it would be worth it.  I'd be living.  And you'd get an experience, the same as if you'd be going to college, it would just be a different experience.  I wouldn't be wasting anything."  She was thinking, really pondering this.  "It would be different. I'd remember it for the rest of my life."
"Yeah," I agreed.  "And it's not like you can't learn outside of college, anyway."
"Exactly."
We lay there, talking for a while longer, and eventually turned off the clip lamp and went to sleep.  But the words I had said didn't leave my mind.  Learning outside of college.  I had forgotten you could.  Actually doing instead of being spoonfed secondhand.  Making things yourself instead of learning from someone who did.  Learning, really learning, by absorption and action instead of notes and cards.
The words couldn't leave my mind.

He has done for me,
He has done for you,
He has done for us.

February 25th.  A Saturday.  I had just woken up from a four hour nap after she had gone home.  I was thinking about what I should read in my Bible that day, ignoring my bible study book because it was rehash of a different book by the same author. 

Come and listen,
come and listen to what He's done.

My eyes fell on a piece of paper where I had hastily scrawled a verse in my college-bound mindset.  "And the Lord will guide you continually . . . "
Isaiah 58.  It was as good a place as any.
"Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, 'Here I am.' If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,
if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.
And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in.
"If you turn back your foot from the Sabbath, from doing your pleasure on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a delight and the holy day of the LORD honorable; if you honor it, not going your own ways, or seeking your own pleasure, or talking idly;
then you shall take delight in the LORD, and I will make you ride on the heights of the earth; I will feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

Come and listen,
come and listen to what He's done.

God isn't calling me to college.  It isn't necessary.  Do you know what he wants from me?  He wants me to live like a Christian and do what He says.
There aren't any limits.
There just aren't any.
Live like a Christian and do what He says.
Live like a Christian, and you shall take delight in the Lord, and He will make you ride on the heights of the earth.
The very heights of the earth...!

Am I going to waste my life?
Of course not.
I'm going to keep learning.  I'm going to memorize and study and apply myself and write, oh, how I'll write.  And I'll do things, and I'll serve how He calls me to, and I'll hang on one crazy day at a time and I'll make it and He's the only one who knows how and it's glorious.
Because I am a competent person.  And I can't claim any of this myself.
To Him be all glory, and we'll see where it takes us.

Let me tell you what He has done for me.
Let me tell you what He has done for me,
He has done for you,
He has done for us . . .

Christina Kuri Icarus

College . . . or Not

You don’t have to go to college.

For Jude’s sake, it’s something we all forget. We think we have to go sit in classrooms for another four years.  And if you’re like me, that prospect isn’t exactly unappealing.  I like to learn; I like worksheets and projects and papers and notes.  But we forget that we don’t have to go.  That some of us aren’t called to go.

But did you ever realize—really, really realize-- you can move to Michigan and get a job working for a nonprofit and rent a little apartment and buy clothes at Goodwill and honor God and keep in touch and love your life right out of high school?

Did it ever come to mind that you can live with your parents and save your money and go on a trip following the course of the Civil War and write down every little thing and come home to suburba to write a bestseller?

You know you can fly to England with a friend, get a job at a coffee shop or a museum gift store and start a bible study, being a Christian where you’re at, ministering to people because they’re the only eternal thing on this earth beside God Himself?

“It’s not accredited,” people will warn.

Like you can’t learn if you don’t have something telling you that you did learn something after all. Like I can’t do something without a piece of paper telling you I did do something.

 “It’s a waste of time,” they’ll say.

But it’s not.  It’s my life.

The 101st: An Update

Hey, guys.  So this is a blog where I’m supposed to be writing about writing.  And this is me, not writing.

Cuz that’s what good writers do, amirite?

But the truth is, I have been writing, a little.  Been working on something I’ve let rest for a while.  Been rewriting an old story (an old, old story).  Most of you don't know it.  Some of you know it, but it's got a new opening.  And it starts out like this:

The sun was intolerable.  There wasn’t a breath of wind and I swear I was sweating more than should be humanly possible.  The summer hadn’t been kind—in fact, it had been one of the hottest recorded in this state, and the sun wasn’t letting me forget it as it seared into the back of my neck.  I would have sunburn in no time if I didn’t get into shade soon.

It was bad enough I was even standing here, my dingy green duffel on the dusty ground next to my worn flip-flops, and it was even worse that I had my thumb sticking out.

For the first time in my nineteen years, I was hitchhiking.

I probably won’t be posting it on here because I just won’t, but if you’re interested in reading shoot me an email and we’ll see what we can do.

Happy February! :]

Christina Kuri Icarus

News Flash:

Due to an unexpected valentine from a darling little boy, a NOS, an hour-and-a-half long chat with a friend she doesn't see enough, a cute outfit, psyching her brother out with a 'secret admirer' note devised by herself and written by her friends, her parent's return from their anniversary trip and a pizza-delivery dinner/Audrey Hepburn movie date with a great friend, Christina's Valentine's day was an incredible success.  Also this is her hundredth blog post.  You may return to your business until further notice.  Thank you.

Blogging more, blogging more . . . Kind of.

Someone told me recently that I should blog more because he's always checking it and he's devastated when there are no more of my words online.

I just don't have that much to blog about, really. 

I've discovered a new obsession with some British bands.

My feet are cold and so are my shins and fingers, but my palms are warm because of fingerless gloves.

The sun is glaring off of the tiles just outside the window.

My stomach has been holding back a growl for the past 50 minutes.

I keep forgetting it's February.

Sometimes I can't help but think that it's an author's talent to be able to write when there's nothing to say

but all I can help but think is that now I have a slight headache

and my left eye hurts a little more than my right.

I should probably look up colleges right now

but instead I'm floundering here.

That's really all.

Happy Light Fluffy Stuff: Tagged~

I have a feeling I got tagged on this thing by Peter “Le Metalhead” Lalush, so here goes nothing. I don't really know why I'm doing this besides the fact it looks fun. :]

The Rules

1) post these rules.

2) post 11 random things about yourself.

3) answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post.

4) create 11 new questions for the people you tag to answer.

5) go to their blog and tell them they've been tagged.

6) no cop-outs in the tagging section like “if you are reading this/follow me,” blah blah blah. you have to legitimately tag people.

11 random things about me

1. I have a jar of  18 lipsmackers to my left.  Flavors include pomegranate, wintermint, Bubble Yum, lemonade, Fanta Pineapple, Blue Raspberry Jolly Rancher, berry smoothie, Peppermint and Vanilla.

2. To my left I have a three-inch-tall Woody figurine.  Yeah, from Toy Story.

3. I just scrapped my plans for after school ends and I’ve got no clue what the future holds.  I’m just gonna stick my hands in the air and hope the safety harness holds me in as the crazy roller-coaster ride that is God’s plan for my life takes off.

And Free Them

 The Flight of Kings
The Classic Crime

Twenty two years have passed by
As I contemplate
I can recall you getting me out of every scrape
What comes first to my mind
Was the change that I so desperately needed to make
Day and night, frozen silent in blinding violent fear
A song for my fight
Comes spilling the words I so desperately needed to hear

Do you know this song's for you?
My heart goes out to the hurt you feel inside

What hurts more than just dying
Is living barely alive
After all it's easier than falling short every time
I felt the pain and set fire
To the grace that I so desperately needed to take

Just Stay

There was another little pause.
"Th' reg'ment lost over half th' men yesterday," remarked the friend eventually.  "I thought 'a course they was all dead, but, laws, they kep' a-comin' back last night until it seems, after all, we didn't lose but a few.  They'd been scattered all over, wanderin' around in th' woods, fightin' with other reg'ments, an' everything.  Jest like you done."
"So?" said the youth.

Jest like you done.

I'm a deserter.  I'm a runner.  You open that gate and I take off.  You pull the lid off of the jar and I've flown.

In the Red Badge of Courage, the youth was fleeing from battle.  But I don't flee from battles, for I have no battles.  There is no smoke and gunfire and burning, acrid air-- no comrades and brothers falling beside me and behind me, no danger.

No-- I run, but not from battle.

I run from safety.

Muses

Winner! in bright, bold orange letters.  Every year can be better than the next.  The vibrating of my cell phone reverberates through the black wood of my desk, reaching even into my wrists on piles and piles of books, and it's comforting because someone loves me enough to want to talk to me.  A jar full of money looks rather imposing until you look closer and realize they're all ones and you're not as rich as you hoped.

This summer, I'm going to climb a mountain and sing a hymn into Colorado air, I'm going to sit on a hill and blow bubbles into the early July air, I'm going to dream of ice cream until I'm standing in front of that little shop and that precious old man who owns it, and I'm going to return to my true love.  I have a  cappuchino candle on my table and it makes the air smell of sophistication.

Stress is a little like a giant elephant standing in a room that I try to avoid until it steps on my toes and I can't help but cry.  Jars of Lipsmackers tell you that even though she was the only girl, she was still a girl.  Jars of pens tell you even though she's the only watercolor rainbow in a world of ROY G BIVs, she was still an artist and would be until the world ended.

Beauty gained and lost, taller, shorter, thicker, thinner-- people change and they're still the same even though they're completely different in every way, inside and out.

Five Hundred is a Large Number (So is Fifty Thousand)

The frost dances across the windows and the world swirls behind the icy glass as the truck putts along the rough road across the property.  The January air is nippy and presses against the glass, turning my warm breath on the window into a misty layer between me and the wind. I’m bundled up, my hands pressed between my thighs to keep warm in their mittens.
The only sound is the hum of the engine of the old truck.  
It smells of old cigarettes and stale air fresheners and age.  The tattered leather seat is hard beneath me, stuffed too full of stiff foam.  I lean hard against the back as the truck starts up a hill.  Staring out the window, the scenery is white and brisk and wintry in the least inviting manner.
We level out, pull to a stop, and the truck jerks as my uncle presses in the brake and puts it in park.  I pull on the door handle and remember to jiggle the bare metal to get it to catch.  It opens with a rusty creak and the frigid air blasts me.
My uncle is already out, his hands in the pockets of his black wool coat.  He’s thin and looks cold.  His plaid scarf covers his face up to his intellectual black glasses, his expensive shoes covered in soft, crunchy snow.  His eyes are bright as he stares into the white woods.
I mimic him, stuffing my mittens into my pockets as I meander out.  The wind bites right through me, but I don’t complain.  I just hunker down deeper into my own coat, breathing in and feeling the hot breath moisten the collar around my face.  

Words.

"Your greatest sin is not the abortion that you've asked forgiveness for, or the adultery, or-- whatever it is in your life, in your past that you're ashamed of, that keeps hounding you.  Your greatest sin is not that; your greatest sin is not believing God's word when God says that you are forgiven! Your greatest sin is your unbelief!  You want to repent of something, friend?  Stop repenting of sins that you've already repented of, and repent of your unbelief." ~ Rich Nathan, as quoted by House of Heroes in Voices