.hello.

In the footsteps of Natalie, AKA apartment cave roomie, I have roamed into the blog world. I have nothing important to say, no profound ideas or insights. However, I do have a mind, a voice, and hey, fingers to type with. Why not?

I am not a genius. I do not have a lot of friends. I am not a religious fanatic. I am not politically active. I am not liked by many people.

I am called a mathlete, a geek, Ace, Chino, Holl, Chewbacca, babe, and teacher.

I believe I am a follower of Christ, tired, not clean enough, a good friend to the ones who'll have me, a geek, and probably other things.

I am a senior in college, months away from graduating with my bachelor's degree in mathematics. Something about that makes me sound way smarter than I am. There are still days that I wonder, 'how in the world have I made it this far?' The fear of finishing school myself and entering into a school to teach is beginning to set in.

I know I am a geek. I like math. Who actually likes math? Now, there are days that I hate math. There are subjects like Real Analysis that make me want to pick my brain apart. There are professors that make me loathe the subject they teach because I automatically associate it with them. Calculus and Differential Equations are my friends. Math is an absolute science. It is not subjective from professor to professor on what good writing is, or what adequate research is. If you get the problem right, you get full credit. I like that guarantee. I want to show high schoolers that math isn't as evil as the teachers paint it to be. I was there. I remember the agony of AP Calculus, then the breath of fresh air that hit during my first semester of math in college. It doesn't have to be hard? Here's to saving as many students as I can from the grips of those evil teachers.

I don't have a lot of friends. I don't remember ever really having a lot of friends. I've tried running in the clique circles of the time every couple of years, but it is never fulfilling. It feels like a waste of time and energy, as most of those people don't care about me and, more often than not, ignore me when I speak. I really like people. I try to be nice to everyone and will pretty much be friends with anyone who is nice to me. Maybe I'm living in a dillusional world where I am in fact an unenjoyable person to be around. It's quite possible.

I love Jesus and am thankful for my relationship with him. I was a constant seeker of knowledge for all things Christian, Jesus-centered, etc. I hit a wall and was just kind of dead for a while. I'm still not back into that full speed mode, though I feel more comfortable in my relationship with God, and closer to God than ever, in fact. From time to time I still get criticized for not "having a ministry." It gets me so worked up. What is defined as "having a ministry" nowadays anyway? It's not good enough to go to church, to follow God and what He is calling you to. It seems you have to follow what people at the church think you should be doing too. It's amazing to me that I'm not getting criticized for sinning, for not being obedient to Christ or answering His call in my life, but because after three years of constant serving at this church, I am at a point where I do not feel God calling me into a particular area of service. I still pray for Him to guide me to server where He wants me. It's strange how on so many things you're told, "just be patient, God answers in His time, not yours," but on this it seems they're telling me the exact opposite. What the heck?

I am not politically active. I do not fight for everything I believe in. Yes, I'm lazy. I'll admit it. I also don't agree enough with any of the candidates this year. Sometimes I think I like Obama. Sometimes I think I still like McCain. I don't like Hilary. That's about all I know.

I am always tired. Ok, not always, but at least 88% of the time. What's with that?

No matter how hard I try, I am never as organized as I'd like to be. My closet is separated into types, then sub-separated in order of color within those types. If I can't organize them, I won't do it. Thankfully, that is not the problem at this time, as most of my clothes are actually hanging in my closet. I know, shocker to those of you who have peered into my room.

I have a cat. His name is Li'l Minus Boy. I'm not sure if Minus knows his name yet. Sometimes I think he does, but others I think he's responding to the tone of my voice rather than his actual name. Minus is more talkative than me! He has a million different sounds including: mowww, mowww... OWWowW... gglllll... mow? mow? mow? mow? mow?... and the loudest purring you've ever heard. Sometimes Minus drives my roomie crazy. Sometimes Minus drives ME crazy. But I love that cat. He keeps pooing in the corner of my bathroom on the tile. I don't know if it's because his litter box was there for a day when we moved in or what. I get so mad at him. But then he cuddles up all close to me on my bed and I just love that kitty. You should meet him, you'd like him too.

If you made it through, welcome to my welcome rant. More nonsense to come.