A little enthusiasm.

While the autumn air is starting to sweep through Chicago and the smell of cold fills my nose and open pockets of my early fall jacket, I'm beginning to warm up to the details of the city. The train stop is dirty but so familiar and endearing now. The construction down the road makes me curse every early morning it jolts me awake (I am not a morning person), but I've been here long enough to see new things take shape, new ads traipse downtown, new venues open up, new exhibitions and events happen. You don't get that stuff when you're a tourist (don't get me started with them), but when you're an amateur Chicagoan, oh, the possibilities! Even the bustling downtown is invigorating and energetic. Walking on Michigan Avenue at 4 p.m. is the best and worst thing at the same time. The anonymity is comforting most days. New friends are even more comforting.

I've come to enjoy the echo of Pink Floyd and (pre-Battle Studies) John Mayer in our shoebox apartment. The hall light on the third floor is out, but there is a skylight. Even if I can't ever find the right key after dark, I like that the coral-colored street lights get to peek through.

Show me a picture of every red line El train stop from here to downtown, and I can tell you exactly which one it is. I guess that doesn't sound so neat, but I like to think outside the box of monotony. The 30-minute ride to school every day has the potential to make me a grump because of its claustrophobia, loud and obnoxious teenagers on their cell phones, and consistently funky smells.

I still miss wide open space, harvest time in Nebraska, taking meals to the fields, Blue Hill high school football games, joking with my grandparents over a steak dinner, beating up on my little brother (who am I kidding? He'll never be little anymore)...singing everyday, getting drunk with good friends, and Pabst Blue Ribbon not being such a hipster beer. I don't think I'll ever stop missing these things.

Nonetheless, I knew that comfort would come and that my young and naive (with some additional urban maturity and navigation skills) country girl spirit of awe and wonder would come back to me, a better outlook on the challenges of the future.

The Blackhawks have been winning, and now, out of decency and respect for the sport, I know what I'm talking about when it comes to hockey. Yes, I did some research instead of doing homework. Sue me for being a Blackhawks fan and posting related videos more often than probably need be. Come on, it's hockey season!

 

And then we're gonna go go go go go go.

Thank God for athletics, for the gifts of men and women from Him, the power to bring people together for a passionate gratefulness of these things we call sports. I've sometimes doubted the hearts of athletes and the compassion of "fans." But, today, being one of them, and knowing that I'm watching fellow people do what they love, what they're bodies and minds are built and skilled to do, I won't doubt the nature of these wonders: football and hockey, among others. And, no, I haven't only thought this after big wins...losses, too. How can we not be grateful for the ability to motivate and compete? It's never perfect, but surely a better way to spend our time together.



I will forever bleed Husker red. I was born here. You know what they say, right? You can take the girl out of Nebraska, but you can't take Nebraska out of the girl.



ONE GOAL. Okay, they may look like celebrities, but more than being faces of the NHL (and so incredibly good-looking in both suits and hockey gear), the Blackhawks are known for relationship: a fan/player support system. It often brings a city together. I've seen it. You can tell me I'm being dreamy again. I'm okay with that.

LET'S GO RED!

Let us also take a moment to be thankful for one of the greatest movies of all time.

"We're gonna go inside, we're gonna go outside, inside and outside. We're gonna get 'em on the run boys and once we get 'em on the run we're gonna keep 'em on the run. And then we're gonna go go go go go go and we're not gonna stop til we get across that goalline. This is a team they say is... is good, well I think we're better than them. They can't lick us, so what do you say men?"

so. much. gray. area

You shouldn't have to feel bad about being wishy-washy or indecisive about life. American culture may teach us to decide between black and white types of ideas, which is okay to present to young minds - but don't tell an adolescent there isn't any gray area in their lives.

And I'm not just saying this because I've come across more artists channeling creativity from an astounding amount of gray area.

Though simplicity is nice to look at, it's not a realistic idea, since so many things make up the complexity of simplicity.

And I think decision-making and conviction is entirely relevant and important to growth. Of course. But, someone can't just jump to convicting someone for their views or inability to make a snap-3-second-decision. That can be a gift. So can perspective. So can empathy.

If you're not with me, I won't jump to assuming you're against me. There's much more to it than that...acknowledging the complex humanity of the enemy. And of the sinner.

Faith is complex. We'll never understand the immensity of God's love.

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God's love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow - not even the powers of hell can separate us from God's love. No power in the sky about or in the earth below - indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.
-Romans 8:38-39

I don't hate you, milieu.

A few words have been popping up everywhere around me: in papers, on signs, in my head, spoken by people around me. Strange, really, when just miniscule parts of English vocabulary (miniscule, not meaningless, because the English language is so HUGE) are heard or read so often in just a few days. This got me to thinking about the definition of these words as they relate to the things around me. It's never bad to think. At a play I saw earlier this evening, called Red, about the life and work of well-known painter Mark Rothko, the actor playing the artist said:

"Stop being so pedestrian. Think more."
So, I thought about it.

milieu: surroundings, especially of a social or cultural nature.
My professor used this word in a comment on one of my papers. Right before he suggested I become an urban warrior, he told me "by the way, you've done a great job masking your insecurities, every time I see you, you look like you're in complete command of your milieu." Whether or not this is true, I'm not sure. Maybe he's just being optimistic. It is nice to know I have the ability of covering up my mess of emotions and insecurities in public. At least I have that going for me. And, whether or not I do have complete control of my surroundings, ha, I don't think I really want that kind of responsibility. But, I don't think that's what he meant. I heard the word again at the play and once more from someone I don't know. My milieu is so interesting.

discernment: perspicacity, insight
Whoa. Don't ask me what perspicacity means (well, it probably means discernment). This word came to me by letter, from a friend. A blessed letter, and impressively timely (I think I just lost command of my milieu by using two adverbs). Discernment involves a lot of perspective and reflection about future opportunities and decisions. Most days, we face it involuntarily, but sometimes the concept gets heavier when we start facing change and uncertainty. With the changes (and natural human stress) of God's mysterious (but exciting, right?) plan for each of our lives, we might lose a little gusto and begin to doubt. I am confident the plan will be challenging, enlightening, and worthwhile. I'm praying for you, friend. You know who you are.

romance: sentiment, emotion, or desire

You didn't really think I was going to talk about dating and marriage, did you? Gross. Romance isn't red roses, candles, kisses, passionate love...ly desire for the opposite sex...I bet you thought I was going to say something else. No, I'm talking about the real thing. The desire for beauty in life. The stuff that moves the very heart of soul of who you are! I think God's creation is romantic: planting, growing, living. One of the most romantic moments of my life was when I was young and standing in the middle of a wheat field, bright blue above me, a God-made golden blessing beneath me. Alone. I was standing there alone. I didn't need my 4th grade "boyfriend" standing next to me to make it romantic. However, I do wish my fourth grade "boyfriend" the best in life.

futility: lack of effectiveness, success, purpose, meaning
This one's interesting. This week, I wrote a news story about art collaboration. One of the collaborative practicing group of artists was called (f)utility. Ah, the juxtaposition - one of the most profound, meaningful art terms spoken by man. No. But, the word got me thinking about how much we feel futile as human beings. It's not just artists that don't get their art sold, not just writers that never get their work published. The judge within the self. At the end of the day, it's mostly me bringing myself down about all the mistakes I made, stupid things I said, or all of the sidewalk cracks I tripped over (which happens often). But, here's the romantic part...despite the ability to command surroundings or define interesting words in the English language, God loves us, everyone. Tiny Tim was right (well, if he would have said "loves" instead of bless). The same thing, really.

.....

In other news (forgive me), the Blackhawks' Patrick Kane is joining Twitter. This probably has no significance to most of you reading this, but I think it's hilarious. I couldn't stop laughing, and I couldn't tell you why. Maybe it's because I think Twitter is ridiculous, no offense to those of you who have it. It's just another way to write sentiment without having to show it at all...anytime you want, for free. The fact that Kaner is being interviewed about the phenomenon of him being able to share with fans the going-ons of his life...it just made me laugh. Why isn't it news that we're slowly losing touch of each others' voices and interpersonal relations?

But, actually, I'm not going to lose my love or communication with friends because it's news that Patrick Kane has Twitter (did I mention his followers grew from 4,000 to 20,000 in one night?). Truth is, the keyboard is the only place I feel comfortable sharing collective sentimental thoughts. It's ironic that I would have trouble communicating these things interpersonally, in person, whether or not I had a Twitter. Or a blog.

.....

In all things, cheers! Here's to words and the Chicago Blackhawks (season opens next weekend!) and "tweets" and finding the things or milieu that make your heart and soul beam from ear to ear.
Here, here!

The heart does, actually, ache

I miss painting. I miss working with my hands. I miss a lot of things that were in my life everyday a few months ago. And all of the details, the coincidences, the music I see and hear in another person, the awe and wonder I find in their heart...the coincidental photos and big smiles, the friendly banter. Sometimes, it doesn't matter, because they don't see me seeing it or they don't see how much it matters that I see it...the compatibility of two souls, hoping for it, longing and pining for it while the other person is getting on with their life, maybe doing the same, but for someone else.

 I think one reason why I'm at such a wall, is because I don't have the time to mold, scratch, smooth, lift, sculpt, and sketch these reasons, people, feelings, and memories.

...the heart does, actually, ache
from trying to push beyond
itself, this room, the world,
all that can be imagined;
space is not enough space
for its sudden immensity...
- January Afternoon, with Billie Holiday by Lisel Mueller

God is good.

view my portfolio:
coroflot.com/Lindsey_Auten

I have a portfolio now. I'm growing up. That's cool.
Inspiration to write about anything in length is lacking today.
But I got to spend a day with two of my best friends.

And I ate some pasta.

GOD IS GOOD.

Skydiving

Right now, my father is riding in a plane, counting down the seconds until he jumps out of it, and dives into the sky. All I can think is, "I want to be jumping with him."

My Dad is an adventurous man, though he's never been out of the country or seen the Mona Lisa in person. That wouldn't matter to him, because those aren't things that deserve mention. They're tourism and material things. It's the present action of life that gets the credit. He's the man with the tanned leather hands - that have worked the soil and plow since the age of twelve. I think that's where I get my desire to work with my hands...be actively living out what it is I want to do in life.

"Be present where you are," is what my old camp friend, Andrew, would say when we talked about dwelling on a bad decision or worrying about the future decisions we'd also have to make. In many ways, the two men are similar, but my Dad doesn't say phrases like that aloud because they are a little deeper than he'd like to go or are more cliche than he'd like to sound.

What he doesn't know is that he says the same thing with the way he and my mom raised his daughter and his two sons: how he taught us to work our asses off in whatever we do, wherever we are..and also, to just go for it. Just jump! Before I left for Chicago, I had a dramatic breakdown that almost led me to flip off the city all together and stay in the comfortable dwell of Nebraska. You know what he said to me? First he told me to stop freaking out - like the Auten women in our family often do when they try something new or say goodbye for a while to something or someone they love. Then he told me, "I'm proud of you for being uncomfortable." I take it as, "I'm proud of you for taking the leap and starting to pay your own bills, even if the altitude or the whipping wind on the way to the ground is, at times, too much." Then he told me he was going skydiving in September.

                             

If he can jump, I can jump.
We made it!
Na zdravi, Pops!