Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Blog

Nicaragua Trip Journal: June 2008

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

::Here are most of the pages from the journal I kept on my recent trip to Nicaragua. Some pages I did not include, and on some pages that I did include, I blurred out chunks of text I didn't wish to share with the world. Most of the comics aren't going to make a lot of sense, or be terribly funny, for anyone who wasn't on the trip or hasn't gone on such a trip in the past. However, you can look through it and get a sense of some of the things we did as a group.::

Nicaragua 2008: June Trip Journal - Upload a Document to Scribd

Labels: cartoons, journals, nicaragua, nicaragua 2008, travel

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Journals: Two assumptions.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

06.17.08
Green Journal

This morning, I'm functioning on two assumptions.

The first is that the unknown guy sleeping on the couch in the living room of the house in which I now live is supposed to be there and did not, as is theoretically possible, randomly wander in off the street.

The second is that this same person isn't going to wait until all of us leave and then go in our rooms and try on, for example, my ladies' shoes or go through my drawers and, uh, go through my drawers.

It's not often I wake up, walk out into the house, and find a person I don't know sleeping on the couch. These things just don't happen back on the farm.

Labels: journals, my life, summer 2008

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Journals: Without a key.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

06.16.08
Green Journal

If this morning were like travel bingo, I could check a few things off of my list that I normally would have difficulty scoring: Great Dane, transvestite, and locked out of the house.

Off to a great start.

I woke up to find a Great Dane in the hallway. You could saddle that dog, and rope cattle. It's huge. Up to my chest, nearly. The dog seems very nice, as are the two housemates I briefly met. They aren't around much; in the military, I guess. The dog is not in the military.

It sure is too bad I don't have a key to the house yet, since the door was locked behind me; luckily, I have all my stuff for the day, except I'm wearing flip flops. I forgot to change my shoes. I may have to pick up some cheap shoes that are a little more presentable since I don't think flip flops are appropriate footwear for going to class. I suppose tonight will be a stressful experience of trying to get into the house without setting off the neighborhood watch.

The transvestite at the 3rd street Starbucks was a reminder to me on the complexities of gender and how being a woman extends beyond growing your hair long and wearing makeup.

Regardless, the day is off to quite a start, and I'm off to the library. The fears I shall be attempting to conquer today include:

I'm not smart enough to learn this stuff and everyone is going to find out that I've been stupid all along.
I'm going to start to annoy my instructor as he realizes I'm stupid.
That I'm not stupid, but lazy.

I sure wish I had the key.

Labels: journals, summer 2008

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Journals: Anarchy and gardening.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

06.10.08
Green Journal

I find the juxtaposition of an anarchist publication next to a ladies' gardening club brochure on the library's "free resources" shelf to be quite amusing.

I'm always "impressed" by anarchist groups that use structured systems -- get your T-shirts! -- to promote dissolution of those systems. They'd probably say something along the lines of "using the system against itself" but I'd probably just say "lazy, ideologically confused, and not very creative."

As it is, I find a magazine promoting destruction of private property and the theft of phone cards so that older anarchists can make phone calls to "teenage lovers for phone sex*" dropped right next to a cheery publication promoting daffodils and a bristling program of classes on the finer points of mulch and compost to actually be quite the perfect pairing.

Perhaps a few printed chapters from Chesterton's The Man Who Was Thursday, placed carefully inside each magazine, are in order.

* Though I do regret the kinds of searches that are now going to be brought to this site, I don't find it at all surprising that in a grand, ideological article about the finer points of anarchy and why it must be so, a paragraph on this activity seems to negate all of the rest of the oration and reveal the oddly typical and rote reason for "counter-cultural" activity.

Labels: journals, media, summer 2008

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Journals: Efficiency.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

06.09.08
Green Journal

I looked at an efficiency apartment today.

About the only thing I think it would be efficient at is aiding the propagation of several generations of cockroaches. The fellow who showed it was nice, though one of those nervous fast-talkers that speak in machine-gun parlance five steps ahead of their ears. Numerous times, after I'd plainly responded to a question, he'd rattle off on some bizarre stream of unintelligible sounds and end with the question I just answered.

But, bless him, he was efficient at showing the apartment, and even helped me find it. I can't really fault him.

Labels: humor, journals, my life, summer 2008

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Travel journal: The cartoons, the commentary, and the clippings.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

::This is the travel journal from my recent trip to Fargo (run the 5K and see a Rodin exhibit)/South Dakota (sister's house)/Tennessee (DI global finals)/and back again. You can read the posts from the trip starting here.::

Tennessee 2008 Journal - Upload a doc

Labels: art, cartoons, journals, travel

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Risk management is specific.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

I've been over-managing my risk.

In a letter I just finished writing to a "new" pen pal (letters are a fine thing, people! I can't stress that enough!), I wrote about comfort and risk and how it plays into happiness.

I really started thinking about risk, though, after I sealed the letter up.

Risk is less the decision that agrees in the mind that Something Must Happen while doing nothing to make it so, but it is more the action.

What else might risk be? I thought, and started jotting a list in my journal.

Risk is doing.
Risk is taking stock of what scares and finding a way to dive in and learn from it. Maybe.
Risk is breaking free from the comforting routines.
Risk sometimes shrugs off comfort in search of the better thing out there.
Risk is doing what you know you should but just never get around to it.
Risk is people. People are very risky.
Risk is going after what you want, but you have to be willing to admit you want it.

In a recent Sunday school class, we all somehow got around to talking about marriage and prayer and that kind of thing. I can't remember how we ended up on the topic, but members of the class started relating stories of specific prayers they made, and how God answered them very specifically. One man even said that when he'd prayed for a wife, he asked that she have blond hair. It was around that point where I sort of tuned out. There were a few reasons for my tuning out, but one had to do with the fact that I don't pray specifically. These stories that were being relayed made me think how happy I was that things had worked out so fine and dandy for them, but that it was a far different view from where I sat.

But why would I get specific answers? I rarely pray specifically.

"God, I bring to you such-and-such a situation. You know what's best God. I trust you to take care of it," I might pray. It sounds good, but a life time of general prayers that seem to portray trust but really show a lack of faith because nothing that would put it all on the line is ever asked for is a life of no risk at all. A lifetime of just sitting by and letting it all flow and saying to myself an others, "Hey, let's take it easy and just see what develops" means a lifetime of it all flowing right on by and leaving me behind.

It is much more difficult to say exactly what I'd like and then take the yes's and no's in the same stride. It is easier to ask for nothing and never know if the answer ever comes. It is easier to put the work load (and subsequent blame, when nothing happens) on "fate." It is more difficult to just get out and seize the day, the moment, the opportunity, the person, the chance, the open door...

Whether it be praying specifically or refusing to let people and opportunities fall out of my grasp because I want to see whether or not they'll "develop" instead of developing myself and taking some purposeful action, I've got to take some risks.

So I made some other lists. I've gone specific, and in many areas of my life at that! It's a real risk. It's embarrassing to admit I'm praying for specific things that seem shallow and unimportant and ridiculous. I can't see how it would matter. Oh yes, it is a real risk.

How refreshing.

Labels: church life, essay, journals, relationships, religion

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Journals: What I have learned.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

::This is the journal entry I mentioned in the comments section of this post.::

1. Never throw off old friends in the excitement of a new friend. The new wears off and I'll need the old friends, along with what had been new.

2. Guard my heart in all things. This could be in the realm of emotional, intellectual, personal, or habits connected to my heart. Don't fling the door wide open for anyone that comes along.

3. First impressions are only that. When sand gets in the gears, I really get a look at things, both the other person and myself.

4. Jesus is all I need. A complete Sunday school answer, but true. I may want more, but He's all I absolutely need.

5. Don't quickly learn to rely on someone until I learn, first, if I can. Or if the person even wants me to.

Labels: journals, personal, relationships

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Journals: Where the heart is.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

07.06
Leather Journal

Where is my heart?

Below my head.
Not reaching my carefully thought conclusions.
Decisions.
Somewhere below, like a foundation, not of my thoughts.

Far above my feet.
Never learning to run away when it should.
Or shouldn't.
Staying put to take the blows.

Inside of my ribs.
A cage of my own.

There is my heart.

Labels: journals

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Journals: Deep thoughts on art degrees.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

This image is from a page in one of my carry-around journals in which I was considering (or perhaps reconsidering) the direction my art is taking me. It seems I was wondering on my grasp of figurative sketching and anatomy.

He/she lacks a recognizable sternum, I say to myself in my best anatomy-art-class voice.

And speaking of recognize...

You may recognize this character (or at least, similarities) from the recent cartoon series on How to Quit a Job. The same figures have also appeared on a series of Artist Trading Cards I sent to a fellow artist.

I'm not terribly alarmed at my repetitiveness. I tend to go in phases, and sometimes a character or method gets lodged in my brain and I start doodling and drawing it everywhere until one day -- poof. Done. I worked through it.

In the meantime, enjoy.

They are creepy, odd little people. Their teeth make me think they'd rather enjoy it if I fed them carrots. I have no idea why this is. Is that what carrot-loving teeth look like?

I like these characters. I find that they are generally inappropriate and somehow insulting in any setting I depict them, which makes them remarkably easy to write quick story and dialogue for.

Labels: art, journals

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Idea not yet finished.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

I'm a habitual note-taker and I often find, as I'm taking notes in church, that other ideas pop into my mind.

This past Sunday, I'd misplaced the current carry-around journal that I'm working my way through, so I grabbed an old one off of the shelf that had a few blank pages left in it. During the service, as I was taking notes, I started to flip through the journal. It had to be from about two years back. I came across one of what I call my "dashed question" sections in which I have an idea or early concept and I list it out as questions in an unumbered list set apart with dashes.

Perhaps Tolkein would call it something like "Ideas Not Yet Finished" or something far more lovely than "dashed questions."

On the page of the old journal I was apparently struggling with the concept of defining beautiful.

-Is there one standard of beauty?
-Who defines beauty?
-What is beautiful?
-What is the value of beautiful?
-How important is beauty to this world? In this world? For this world?
-Is beauty really in the eye of the beholder?
-If that is true, then the power to make beautiful is in the one looking.
-Is it possible for me to make something/myself beautiful if it is up to the one looking?
-That seems dangerous.
-But then something everyone else thought ugly could be made beautiful by the one looking.
-That seems hopeful.
-There is a need for beauty in life.
-How do artists/writers/musicians play into it?
-I have to think more about this.

I'm going to expound (and no doubt bore everyone) on this topic later, since I've been thinking more about the general idea of adding value without limiting it to beauty.

You'll be happy to know I did find my current carry-around journal. It was in a pile of, uh, dirty clothes on my floor. I'd be more ashamed except I've decided I'm just not going to be.

Labels: journals, lists, writing

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Journals: Raised hope.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

03.05
Black Journal

Please let me get my hopes up, even if you think they'll lead me to crash in the end.

Keeping me from being hurt by keeping me safe is hurting me more.

Reality is more than common sense and sensibility and caution. Raised hopes -- taking chances -- have a place.

I want to, even for a moment, get that high, get that view, feel that wind up there, before falling to the stagnant, low level where all the people who refuse to get their hopes up live eternally.

Labels: journals

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Journals: First breaths.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

04.07
Brown Journal
Written During Church

First Breaths

Wrapped
Wound
Tightly
Pulled-down
Folded-back
Light-dimmed
Sinking
Spinning

Then a miraculous final kick
And to the surface
I love you God!
Is all I can manage
And I breathe for the first time

Again.

Labels: journals, poetry

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Journals: 1989 was a badly written year.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 11 comments link this post

::You might think the "journal" series posts on this site are going to be serious and serious and even more serious. I just found an old diary from 1989. Ninth grade. Hilarious.::

February 19
Played piano at church today. What a joke. Patty came over to stay overnight because of skiing tomorrow. Jesse [one of our horses] ripped a big hole in her skin. BIG hole! It's very deep and you could look up her neck under the skin. All 3 of us girls had to melt off all the bloody icicles and peel off frozen skin, then put on salve and close it up. And give her a shot. Messy. Probably will scar.

March 5
Tired. Watched a video in sunday school class on Ted Bundy, the guy who got executed for killing all those women. The video was done 1 1/2 hours before he was killed. Mike Rohr was our "teacher." Slept most of the day. During the evening service, I drew pictures like usual. Mad Janet mad. Grant was a jerk.

August 9
Cheering clinic exhausting but fun. Afterwards we went to Rugby to look at saddles. Janet and I got in a fight and she stopped the car, yanked on my hair, kicked me and hit me across the face. Then Jacqui, who can't stand me, told mom wat a pest I am. Mom had one of her stupid talks. She never put down Janet ONCE, all she said was what a baby I was. At least Dad is fair, he got after Janet. Mom hit me. What am I, a punching bag? It's not funny.

November 22
Today Janet and I were in a major car accident. A semi totally sideswiped us, and I narrowly excaped death/injury. I was scared!

Ronna, Samantha and Jerry came home.

I painted my ceramic unicorn.

----------

(It's pretty much all like that.)

Labels: family, journals, my life

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Journals: Empathy.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Undated
Red Journal
At My Desk

Kindess birthed in pity quickly turns to irritation and expectation. Perhaps empathy is the better seed?

Labels: journals

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Journals: Illogical faith.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

11.06
Barnes and Noble
Grand Forks

I think it came to me after I read an essay on the internet where the author, a man believing in his own education, claimed he had proven that God did not exist by using Einstein's theory of relativety.

It was the strangest interpretation of E=mc2 I'd seen.

It just happened now, at the booth against the wall here in the bookstore. Logic has proven, according to the two college students, that Christians are to be pitied at best.

I've never believed that Jesus came to save the Vulcans. Few greater stumbling blocks to faith in Christ exist than that of faith.

Live and prosper.

I don't go to a book store to find shoes. I don't look to logic to build my faith.

That would be illogical.

Labels: journals, religion