Hello all. Or none.

I've been away from blogging awhile. I didn't die. Really.

But I did get incredibly busy. I had forgotten the grim feeling of stress creeping up on you and twining itself around your limbs, slowing you down, clouding your vision and making you wonder if the week will ever end. I've been rudely reminded this week. The worst of it is that my current anxiety-ridden state is self-induced. I have a need for money, unfortunately, which causes me to take on more and more work, at the cost of all else. Friends, school, social time, and yes, even [gasp!] my blog are neglected in the wake of working 30+ hours a week on top of classes.

All of this is for a good cause, though. I'm going to this great convention in Nashville in a month called Youth Specialties. The short story is that it's this incredibly God-filled gathering, where God-loving people come to do worshipful things like singing and praising and listening and sharing and laughing and loving. It's worth the several hundred bucks I'll shell out for it. Although on nights like tonight, when I'm spending my third of four nights working this week, on top of my second of four days working this week, it is a little hard to remember that it is worth it.

I must say, though, that my jobs are pretty much the coolest thing in the world. My TLC job is pretty nice. We serve the learning-disabled students on campus, as well as any students with physical handicaps or just those who have a hard time with school. I enjoy it; I can't say that I look forward to it, or that I never stare longingly at the slow-moving clock, but I do enjoy it. I like the people I work with. All of them. (How often does that happen?) My boss(es) are pretty cool people. Ben, my main boss, is a wierdo in every very good sense of the word. He's totally an English junkie, which means that I approve and wish I had half of his talent and even more of his skills (numchuck skills, computer hacking skills...sorry, a Napolean moment). Sometimes I wonder if I'm enough of a perfectionist to work for this guy who seems to have every detail down. But I haven't been fired yet, so I must be doing okay. Debbie, the director of the TLC, is super-nice. She's animated and has a genuine interest in people. Elliot, whom I don't see very often, always says hello to me, without fail. That's nice. And Elizabeth is a keeper too. Not a bad egg among 'em. And my office is warm, all the time. In Lincoln, a warm place is like Christmas and your birthday and Valentine's day and every other awesome holiday all rolled into one. Along with winning the lottery maybe. Yes, warmth is that good.

My other job is even better, I think, though. I actually really enjoy doing Phoneathon. I haven't decided if that's because of the really good pay (yes, in Nebraska, $6.50 an hour feels like a fortune) which comes in cold hard green cash, or the job itself, or the fact that I seem to be remarkably good at it. That shocked me. I've earned somewhere in the neighborhood of $15,000 for the school in three and a half weeks. My goal is $20,000. I think I'll probably make it, or at least come close. But I don't think it's actually a gift for asking for money. My boss says it's how I say things that gives me the success. That was a surprise, considering that half of what comes out of my mouth usually seems to come out wrong. For a communication major, I have a remarkably hard time communicating. The good thing about that job is that we are concerned with relationships. Relationships are good. I talked to a man tonight who lives in an assisted living home. The lady made his bed wrong today. So now he's not comfortable to sleep tonight, and has no one to help him fix it until his son comes back from vacation next week. I talked to a lady who lives in my childhood hometown. She spent several years as a missionary in Japan, and loves ministering to the Asian culture. I talked to a man who sponsors two Compassion children, one in Nicaragua and one in Thailand. He looks at pictures of other children who need sponsors online every so often, and asks himself if there's any possible way he could pay for them to have better lives, too. I talked to a lady who volunteered for the elementary school here in Lincoln for eight years before she was too old to do it anymore. And all of those were in one night. Some gave. Some didn't. Other nights I've talked to an Equine Vet, a cool old farmer, a woman who's husband is dying of cancer... One old man wanted me to come visit him and his wife and son and daughter-in-law on their farm, he liked me so much. And I liked him so much that I sent him a letter. There are so many cool and hurting and giving and dying and living and loving and laughing and hurting and angry and sad people dancing through this life. Phoneathon allows me to connect with some of them. I don't feel like I touch them, although I write down their names to pray for them. I wish I could fix it for them.

I wish I could write all night. I don't get a chance to write much these days. I miss it. Even though I wish I could be truly good at it, it is my art none-the-less.

But, alas, I am in debt. Sleep debt that is. I believe I am at least a full night behind. Maybe three. And it's 12:15; I have class at 8:30. Each word I type sinks me further into debt...

So goodnight all of you, or none of you.