ANXIOUS: anx•ious, (āngk'shəs, āng'shəs), adj., characterized by extreme uneasiness of mind or brooding fear about some contingency

That was me last night. (And a little this morning.) But it was definitely more noticeable last night. It was after midnight. I was exhausted. Yet I was lying in bed, eyes peeled open, listening to my heart beat a rapid, unsteady rhythm. I love to sleep. If I can't sleep there's got to be something going on. And last night that thing going on was a sleep-depriving combination of worry, anxiety, and fear.

And as I lay there, almost in tears, praying that God would make this feeling go away. Praying that I would be stronger. Praying that some how, some way, this would be taken out of my life. Praying... I remembered this:

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

And I began to breathe more regularly. The fear was still there, but it was no longer controlling. There was a reason for my weakness: to proclaim God's glory. To show the world that I was peace-filled not because of my own security and my own comfort (how would that bring glory to God?), but rather that my peace comes from the Prince of Peace, my wonderful Counselor. This peace is not context dependent. This peace is to show the world my Savior.

"Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me... For when I am weak, then I am strong."

I am now Christmas tree-less.

Since there is no longer a tree at 2605, (and I lack the funds, time, and decorations to furnish one) we shall decorate the blog. Just sniff a candle or pine car-freshner for the full effect.

The best part of this is that I don't have to vacuum up any needles...

Because I'm avoiding my "Developmental Language Disorders" and a 14-page psychology study guide...

I have almost completed my venture into (and through) my undergrad. I'm trying to decide if I'm nostalgic, but that particularly poignant feeling doesn't seem to have gripped me just yet. I will probably start crying when I hear "Pomp and Circumstance" in Elliot (and I did start crying at the thought of my cap and gown on Monday) but for right now I'm having trouble whipping up any form of nostalgic sentiment.

I attribute this to the remaining (and threateningly looming) exams on Friday night and Saturday morning, (who schedules an exam from 7-9 on a Friday night!?!?) and to the fact that I have at least 2 1/2 to 6 more years of college ahead of me. I informed my father just the other day that I was going to see if I could stay in college the same amount of time I stayed in school before college. That would mean that I have nine more years of school to go... I think he almost had a heart attack. And upon adding up my current age and where the additional years of school would leave me, I've decided to finish my graduate work before I need to apply for social security. Very ambitious. I know.

I always wonder if I've really learned anything in college. Granted, I just answered a vestibularcochlear nerve question for some girls next to me, and I now know for sure what diadokinesis is, but I've taken 126 hours of classes. Can I remember even half of that? Probably not, but here are several pearls gleaned from my undergrad...

You can't, and shouldn't, as a single person think that you can make an entire pan of lasagna and enjoy it for a week. You won't enjoy it. By the third meal you will swear never to eat lasagna again. And trust me, it will last much longer than a week.

Parking tickets should be paid on time. 'Nough said.

If I had the money for all those textbooks I bought and didn't read (thank you, "Greek Mythology" and "Pre-1700 Literature") I would have enough money for an entire year's rent AND those incredibly snazzy red heels I've been eyeing.

Pizza and orange chicken eaten in an ATM drive-through is the best.

Extra-credit is an undergrad's God-send, and making nice with a professor is the equivalent to an A+ project.

Learn your alma mater's fight song. Then you can tear-up at every football game and get a gush of pride when you hear it metalically playing from one of those cheap musical pins everyone wears on game day.

Coloring coding your mortar board, desk calendar, and notes will bring you more satisfaction and enjoyment than you can possibly imagine.

Starbucks costs too much. Buy it anyway.

WalMart, no matter how much you may despise it, will prove invaluable at 3 in the morning. (Which, incidentally is when all the octagenarians go shopping too...)

Never become too snobby to eat a McDonald's double-cheeseburger. It's most definitely brain food. (Also priceless at 3 a.m., but there are none of those dear senior citizens there like at Walmart... just drunk guys whose livers won't survive for them to be senior citizens...)

Do everything.

You will regret it if your life isn't packed full of living.

(I am so profound...)

"I'm so glad you're not just dating me for my character!"

(upon hearing that my boyfriend thinks I'm cute)

Worth a thousand words...

Edward Hopper's artwork is not, as a whole, comprised of paintings that I love. However, there are a scattered few that have a certain biting universality. I like them. They remind me of a clean, simple, yet intense world. Basic human emotions on canvas.

This would be my favorite...