My paper on Roman cement and engineering!

Roman innovations and almost modern uses of cement, combined with other architectural advances, laid the foundation for many architectural developments that would impact western architecture for centuries to come. Techniques and structures durable enough to last for centuries are solid proof of the Roman’s engineering superiority of the time. In this paper we will discuss the innovations in cement work and how it impacted and allowed for advances in other areas of architecture.

Roman engineers were not the first to use cement, arches or vaults. Some historians believe that ancient Syrians, around 6500 BC, used burnt lime mortar as a means of waterproofing cisterns. The discovery of lime as a building material was probably made in the course of fire pits built from limestone. The heat from the fire would expel carbon dioxide from the limestone and thereby produce lime. It is possible that four thousand years later, the Egyptians were using lime mortar or burnt gypsum in the construction of the pyramids, as well as using cement to mould stone objects. The Nabataeans (700 BC – 300 BC) might have been the first to use hydraulic cement (sets underwater or is waterproof) as there is evidence of burnt lime found, and an abundant supply of pozzolan nearby, which is a key element in making hydraulic cement. The Greeks (ca 600 BC) were known to have used a natural pozzolan and lime mixture in hydraulic cement . Further, the Egyptians used arches and vaults, particularly as forms of drainage. The Greeks, whom the Romans were most heavily influenced by, did not use arches or much cement. Their method of construction was with cut stone slabs, and post-and-lintel over doorways. They did not use cement to the same extent as the Romans.

Cement in Roman architecture became integral as a result of engineering developments. The basic ingredients in concrete mortar are simple lime and river sand (at a ratio of one part lime to three parts sand). Limestone is made up of calcium, carbon, and oxygen. When limestone is heated, or burned, the carbon and oxygen are driven off in the form of carbon dioxide, leaving calcium oxide, or quicklime. If water is added to the quicklime, a chemical reaction occurs where heat is given off and the mixture bubbles. Three results are produced: lime putty, which is used as the binding agent for cement; lime milk, consisting of 20-30% water and can be used for paints; and lime water, which is clear, disinfectant, and can be used for medicinal purposes .

In the basic recipe, sand is added to the lime putty to make cement. However, pozzolanic ash (volcanic ash from Mt. Vesuvius, named after the nearby town Pozzuli) was discovered to make a much more superior cement than sand. This is due to the chemical and structural makeup of the ingredients. Sand (mostly silica) has a crystalline atomic structure so dense that it has little contact surface with the lime, reducing the chemical reaction significantly. In contrast, the pozzolanic ash (silica with trace amounts of alumina and iron oxide) has a very porous atomic structure, which allows the lime to enter and create a concrete-like gel. This gel then expands, and bonds the rocks together in the concrete mix, creating far stronger cement than the sand/lime mixture. To ensure the most chemical reaction possible, the pozzolan must be in powder form to allow for the optimal amount of surface area. The strength of this concrete is comparable to modern cement; indeed, a part of the chemical makeup of pozzolanic cement matches that of Portland cement.

However, the strength does not just come from the chemical makeup, but also from the method of application. At the Upper Stillwater Dam in Utah, the builders used a then-innovative technique called roller-compacted concrete. The mortar was a mixture of 40% Portland cement, and 60% fly ash. The fly ash, a by-product from electrical plants, contains the same silica content as explosive volcanic ash, and when wet, the Portland cement releases the same calcium hydroxide component found in ancient lime cement mixtures. In making the dam, the builders used little water, which gave it a stiff composition. They spread the mixture in thick layers, and then used vibrating rollers to pound the concrete into place. The Romans used a similar process. They would hand mix very dry cement in mortar boxes and carry the cement to the job sites. They would spread it out over a pre-placed layer of rock formation, and would then pound the mortar into the rock layer. We know that this is so because the ancient historian and engineer Vitruvius, alive in the days of Julius Caesar, recorded the process in one of his ten books on construction and engineering. He also mentions tamping tools. It is now known from the Upper Stillwater Dam construction that this method of tamping reduces excess water; the water is a source of weakness and voids in the concrete. When it is tamped, the concrete is compressed into a more solid mixture and also creates more bonding gel than normaliv. This is part of the process in which the domed roof of the Pantheon was made and withstood such great pressures.

Roman concrete has some great advantages over the Greek method of cut-stone masonry. It was very strong, even when spanning great distances in arches, vaults and domes. It had greater flexibility than the Greek’s stone slabs, as the concrete could be poured or layered; it took the shape of the form around it. It was also cheaper as it did not require skilled masons or special labourers, and it was faster to make than cut ashlar masonry. And one of the most important advantages was that the concrete vaulted roofing was fireproof, as opposed to the mainly wooden beamed roofs of the Greeks.

One disadvantage of the use of concrete is that it was often unsightly as the wooden form structures left marks and imprints. The Romans in their resourcefulness and ingenuity started facing the cement with more esthetically pleasing material. Tufa, which is soft volcanic stone, was used in slab form to cover the core construction of the building. Tufa blocks in irregular fist-sized shapes were used to make beautiful wall mosaics. And the Romans came to appreciate the method of regularized rectangular tufa blocks arranged diagonally. It became a popular method during the reign of Hadrian, and can be seen in different places in Hadrian’s Villa. The blocks had cone shaped backs for easier placement into the cement. And of course, all of this could be veneered over with another, prettier material, such as stucco or plaster that has been shaped, molded, patterned, and/or painted. Marble encrusting was used only in very wealthy places .

Mortar was used in many Roman structures, but was rarely needed in the arch. The arch was not a new building form when the Romans took a hold of it, but it became on of their signature pieces of architecture. It was particularly useful over doors; the Greek method of post and lintel was limited, as it had a low tensile strength and in regular use could only span a maximum of 60 centimeters. Because of its structure, the arch transfers the load onto the columns, which does away with the tensile stresses. The more an arch is loaded, the stronger it becomes, to an extent . This is because the vertical pressure on the arch stones causes the weight to be transferred to the middle third of each stone, thereby eliminating any shear, or sliding forces, that would cause the arch to collapse. There was usually no need to have mortar, as indeed that would cause shear force .

The next step in the development of arches is the use of vaults. The Romans used a very simple vault called the barrel vault, which is simply an extension of the arch. It can be constructed along a curved axis. There are two major disadvantages in a barrel vault. The first is that it is hard to light; natural light only comes in at the ends of the barrel. The second is that it needs continual support along the entire length of the vault. The solution to this is the development of the groin vault, in which there are two intersecting barrel vaults. This eliminates the need for continual support as the groin vault transfers the weight to the corners. It also lets in much more light. Groin vaulting can be used in a pattern; unfortunately it can only be used in a square or rectangular plan. This kind of vaulting was used in the construction of the Coliseum’s substructure .

As in the arch, the downward force on the vault created outward spread of the vaults. Therefore resistance to the thrust was needed at the lower portions of the vault, in the form of thickened haunches or the point that connects to the column. This created the development of buttresses, which led to increasingly intricate designs in later architecture. The Romans often cast solid concrete vaults so there were not need of buttresses in those cases . One problem with the non-concrete vaults is that if the foundation shifted or settled a bit, there was a danger of the vault collapsing in. One improvement is the addition of ribs in the vaulting, either traverse lines to the vault or in diagonals of the crossing .

One of the most visible ways that the Romans used arches and vaults was in the aqueducts. The aqueducts were the most advanced way to bring in fresh water and dispose of sewage in the era and indeed the system was not improved upon until very recently. They were built from a combination of stone, brick and pozzolanic cement. The bulk of the waterway ran underground; the Romans bored channels through rock and ran piping underneath the surface. Out of 260 miles of aqueduct systems, only 30 miles ran above ground. The aqueducts were used only where geography presented problems, such as valleys. The entire aqueduct system ran on gravity . The Pont du Gard over the French river Nimes is probably the most famous example of a Roman aqueduct. This structure is a bridge and aqueduct. It is built in three tiers of enormous arches, successively growing smaller as it ascends. The bottom portion is used as a bridge and the topmost as the aqueduct.

The pozzolanic cement used in the aqueducts and Roman bridges was essential as it was waterproof and could set underwater. The Romans would build a wooden form in the water and would either drain some off or submerge it after, but would pour in cement and have it harden underwater. This development in cement making allowed some of the amazing advances in Roman architecture that stand even today, some two thousand years later. The Roman’s use of arches, cements and vaults have quite literally paved the way for further architectural development in western civilization and still influences modern architecture today.

Coffee, and withdrawal

I am an avid coffee drinker. I have been for as long as I've been allowed to. I like the taste of a nice home-brewed cuppa joe. Or in the morning, a fresh strong cup with a bran muffin...the best kind of breakfast.

But recently, coffee has become more of a social drink than something that I enjoy. I get it because I am out with friends and coffee is cheap and tastes relatively ok. Just any social gathering is classified as "going out for coffee". Why don't people go out for slurpees, or hot chocolates, or bubbletea? Maybe because slurpees are ice and liquid sugar, and because hardly anyone around this culture-forsaken town can appreciate the fine taste of a good taro-lychee bubbletea. Hah!

I have noticed though, that the hard-core coffee addicts at some point always try to stop drinking. No matter who it is, they always try to stop. "Coffee is bad"...but then they always go back. If it's so bad for us, why do we start??

Thoughts from a Plebian

I feel a certain amount of unrest. Recent events bring light the bitter gall of my ambitions, and my perceptions. It's brought to me, and I am sore. I don't want anymore. Yet I know it's gonna be okay. Patience, that which is so hard to obtain and keep, slips away at the slightest provocation. Reflections of my selfish nature, my shaky foundations, my shallow and tacked-together floor on which I stand. I hate it. I can see that it is not my surroundings that bring the churning guts and sickly taste, and I despair at times of finding cleansing. Or I meditate on that which is hard for me to see and obtain, and that in itself is poison--the thought of what I do not yet have. I have to cling to the hope--it's there, He has said so--the hope I have in hand is sure, but not over-riding. It doesn't rear up and proclaim itself, as the despair and desolation does. That hope, it's quiet. It's not as heart-wrenching and immediate--it's a knowledge--and that in itself is difficult. My eyes are not accustomed to focusing on that hope; my sight is almost affixed to the poison, and my ears almost tuned to the key of that acridity which whistles its melody most cheerfully.

I must fix my eyes upon that which has been set before me--but oh, how hard! What I perceive is filth, and ways immovable and circular. What He perceives--what? I am not who I am perceived to be. I can't be. I strive against it. Yet it slaps me in the face; my efforts to change seem useless, my pursuit of understanding, fruitless. Desolation claws at me. I look in the wrong places, I am aware. But that which is unseen is farther away than that which is seen--or less easily accessible. How I wish I could hear the voice I know that I need to hear from! I want Him to voice His thoughts--His opinion--His affirmation--His view of me, from the inside out! I read His letters to me--but sometimes I wish I could see Him face to face and hear from His lips all that He says in His word.

And so I continue on in my perception of despondency and desolation--though I know it will pass. That hope which is so quiet and meek is still warm and alive in my hands.


higher sight, He sees
a temple, golden and shining.
a vantage, lower and despondent,
not able to wipe the mud away.

What is my fate?

Isolation often encourages reflection. So does a brief look into another's life, I think. In a way I wonder that much of Bible college holds us in naivity regarding the nature of pastoral life. I am slowly seeing that those who are emerging from college into a life of active ministry, within the bounds of a church, find the latter much different from what they might have expected. And from what I glean from them, I take and appraise my own life and where it will take me.

When I was younger, I believed that there was no other occupation I would rather do than spend my life in ministry. I thought I was to be a youth pastor. Then as a couple years passed by, I thought I might rather minister to young adults. Now I am not sure of either. Everyone needs to know the love that Jesus has to offer, from children to seniors.

And as I peruse the tale of others' lives, I observe that most or all of it centers around a church, a building. It involves boards, and elders, and other pastors, and while that is great, I get the sense of hierarchy, and climbing ladders to get to where one really wants to end up. I feel a bit of unrest at this. Is it unrest that I do not know the goal of my calling--to what exactly I am called? Perhaps. Is it unrest that I see a shadow of ambition and competition, an undercurrent our sinful nature beckoning us toward envy and the lack of sober judgement of ourselves? Maybe. Though perhaps it is the stirring of a different fate for me. Maybe I am not to be a pastor in a church, to grow from children's ministry, to youth, to young adults, and so on.

But what is it then? What is it that I am supposed to do? I feel frustrated with the apparent lack of direction, though I know that God reveals what he wants when he wants, because he knows exactly when to do it. Any sooner and, as I've heard on many a lip before mine, I would refuse from either terror or disbelief. Still, I feel a mite shamed when, even approaching my fourth year in Bible College, I don't know the core of my calling. Oh sure, I have ambitions. Go to secular college afterwards, get an education in art and languages. Meet the man of my dreams and get married, and be firmly planted in ministry before I have kids. But what is my ministry? And what of these ambitions of mine? Perhaps they are not to be?

I say this out of a restless and hardened spirit, I think. I am not eager to return to Bible college, where I must be around people constantly. There I must learn to quell any disunity and rebellion, and submit myself to the Word in standards of community living. (Here too, I think I must apply those standards.) And I am not eager to return to the books and the papers where, I feel in my spirit, failure awaits me if I continue in my lacksadaisical manner. And it is facing this challenge and overcoming it that daunts me particularly. Yet I know that I must, because I know that I have been called.

But what after? What am I called to? Am I called to a life of, excuse the term, professional ministry, or a life as an artist or teacher or anything else, with a heavy involvement in ministry? Am I to minister within the church building and system at all? I have only the vaguest of notions.

Where are the boundary stones of my life?

I am not a carpenter!

I hit myself in the face with a hammer yesterday. It hurt.

Why is the Christian walk so difficult? Why is the opposition so insinuous? It's not a straight-out battle, with recognized good and evil. It's a sneaky, biting, twisting force that slides its way through like a slick snake, only a snake that's costumed as a furry pet. it's a game of careful wording, filtering ideas, guarding oneself against the very ones we love. And our training to fight that is based on scholarship, meaning our own personal walk with God through reading the Bible and building a foundation of faith and relationship around what is said in those pages. It seems like the enemy is exceedingly more powerful and bats us around like we are nothing. And I know the key to winning the battle is knowing the battle belongs to the Lord, and that we must shelter in His love, His strength, and be obedient to His sovereign leading, but...maybe there is not but. Maybe that's all there is. But...it's so hard when the ones you love carry the words that seem to burn and worm into the ear--even to the point where the words are physically felt on the ear to which they were spoken. And those burning, worming, writhing words sear and seep right into the very core, into the heart, into the gut, twisting and churning the body with anger, and even hatred. How, how does one combat that, how does one persevere to bring the love of Jesus when it seems so distant even now? How does one let go of the anger and the malice that those words bring, the despair at ever thinking that any good will result? It blinds, those words. It takes the gaze that pierces through the mist and greyness and lights upon distant shores, and it cuts sight short, so only the thrashing waves are perceivable.

Yet we know that the enemy is a liar, and that there is hope--because the Bible tells us so. To that we must hold--I must hold--with the knowledge that though I might not always feel like that's true, it is, the least reason of all being that the Bible has proven itself true, and God proven Himself faithful, time and time again. So we carry on then, and let the Lord draw the poison from our wounds, determined by His strength to march on, obedient to his calling and ever hopeful in HIs promises.

Back in CanadaLand

Oy! Back in Canada, jotting down a few lines before venturing out into the well-known Lower Mainland to run a few errands. Had neither time nor motivation to further blog during my stay in Ireland. I was busy until well into the night--the night, I must say, that doesn't fully darken there until past 10:30 pm. It's wonderful. Did many, many things, which you, if you know me and will see me in the next few weeks, will get regaled with all the tales of my adventures in the Celtic wonderland, as long as you are willing to hear about it.
One thing I will say to sum up my trip: If I could transport to my part of the world the charm and landscape of Bray, then I would live in a veritable paradise. I was almost lost to it, and the only thing that kept me from staying was my friends and family back home. :)

All right. Soon to see those that read this. :):):)
Snafu

Top O' the Mornin' to ya!

I have arrived! I am in Ireland, the Emerald Isle, after being awake for over 24 hours, and I sit here at the computer weaving from exhaustion, feeling like my head is floating away from the rest of me. Woo hoo! But no, I can't sleep, or else the jetlag will be prolonged. Ugh.
Yes. Ireland. Gorgeous, old, bricks and walls and people driving on the wrong side of their car down the wrong side of the street. Tiny little cosy adorable houses, tiny little adorable cars. Lots of pasture and greenery outside the city. Ireland! Discovering that the North American world is not too far away; movies, advertisements, products followed us here, or were here waiting for us.
Ireland is a land to be discovered, over and over again! Can't wait to walk down the cobblestone streets (where there is cobblestone), dip into a pub for some fish and chips to wait out the transitory rainfall, chat up the locals and learn the stories behind the words, the customs, the very stones and earth and people that make up the beautiful country that now plays host to me.

Hm. More to come later.
Snafu.

Here's to you, Bro!

It just hit me that in less than a week, I am going to be overseas, in Ireland, getting ready for my big brother's wedding. My brother is getting married. Married! My brother, with whom I made tree forts, went tramping through the woods with, played GI Joe's, Lego, video games...haha I remember playing duck hunt with him, and we'd sit real close to the tv and try to shoot the annoying dog. I can remember in one of the houses we lived at, he had the top loft for his room, and one night as the sun was going down, we crawled out the window and out onto the shingle roof. It was such a cool sight to see all the surrounding pastures and the other houses silhouetted against the setting sun.
And I remember listening to him as he learned how to play guitar. He was the one who talked to me about Jesus and about persevering when my life was off track, and he stayed at home after he graduated to look after me even though situations weren't that great.
lol we still play video games together..and Carcasson.

I was blessed with him as a brother. He's not just my brother, he's one of my best friends.

Flyball

I went to a flyball tournament with my mom this weekend. We didn't compete, as our dogs are not ready yet, but we did help out, seeing as our club was hosting the event. It was super fun...there were tons of dogs, all ball-crazy and barking thier heads off, and the masters hollering and getting them wound up and psychotic. It was awesome. There were so many different types of dogs there, and some of them were SO FAST!!!! Others were slow and lumpy and just kinda galumped along....but others flew. They were seriously blurs of fur and leg.
Got to meet lots of different people too. One guy in our club is a Mormon. I would like to have further conversations with him, that's for sure.
The competition ended on a bit of a tragic note. There were about 12 races to go, when we suddenly heard people yelling for a cell phone and a doctor. I heard someone say that someone had collapsed at the top of the bleachers. Everyone that had first aid rushed up there, and after a few moments Mom and another lady ran outside to wait for the ambulance that had been called. Within a couple minutes the ambulance arrived, and came into the arena through which a pathway had been cleared. Nobody really knew what had happened, but we saw the people doing compressions on the person. I thought the worst, but Mom told me that the practice in first aid nowadays is in certain circumstances to do thirty compressions and one breath on the person, even if they have a pulse.
After about a half hour, the ambulance guys loaded up the person. I gathered later that the woman that collapsed had some sort of a health condition--when the ambulance guys were there, she was trying to breathe on her own and couldn't really, and her pulse was sporadic and irregular. So Anna, the coordinator of the flyball club, told us that if anyone of us were into praying then the woman would need our prayers.
Needless to say, we all decided to end the tournament then. Everyone was really good about helping cleanup and stuff. But it was pretty scary, anyways.

Apparently the next tournament is going to be in early June. Mom and I are probably going to be in Ireland then though....Ireland, which is only 20 days away!!

SNaFu

Life is like:

Life is like a chess game. You have to calculate your moves well; you must have foresight. You must know intimately what moves you can do and what you can't, and what effect they will ultimately have. One false move can cost you the game. There is some leeway, but not when it comes to crunch time.

Life is like a dance. You must be aware of your partner and the limits of their ability, and you must be able to anticipate also what they might do. You must be aware of the other dancers on the floor. What you and your partner do can affect others.

Life is like a war. You must hold your position in the strictest confidence, lest you be given away, found out, endangered. You must know who you can trust and who you cannot, and still you must be on your guard. Strategy is everything. Something you do or don't do can come back and cripple you.

Thoughts...

I just finished watching Blood Diamond. For those that haven't seen it, it's a movie about the illegal smuggling and exportation of diamonds in Africa. The people are used like commodities just to get these diamonds. Everyone wants control of the diamond trade--the people are slaughtered mercilessly, the women brutalized, the boys stolen and turned into child soldiers. These diamonds are eventually sold to outside buyers, like Britain, America, and Canada. It's greed...people die, people do terrible things just because of this market.

And I think to myself, people are dying. We have no idea that this stuff even happens. If we do, it's remote, not a part of us. Man, I sit at this computer and I type about something that I only briefly got a glimpse into. I am so blessed to be here, and I don't even know it. I complain about the food I am given. I complain if I don't get my way. I look into the mirror and put on makeup and try to live up to some ridiculous ideal. But you know, when I look at life in war-torn countries or poverty-stricken places or whatever, where things like this happen that I can't even begin to imagine, I think, none of this matters. None of it. My stuff, my social standing, how much money I make, how many times I get to go out for coffee with my friends--it doesn't matter. Stuff doesn't matter. What matters is, am I going to make a difference? What am I doing with my life that actually matters? That will actually make an impact? People matter.

I remember in grade 11 english my teacher asked the class if it was wrong to kill a person. Everyone said yes. Then he asked, what if you were on a plane and a hijacker took over. The only way that you could save the people on board the plane was for you to kill the hijacker--would that still be wrong?

I was stumped. I was young in my faith and so I didn't know what was the answer. There are so many times now that I wish I could have gone back and said, yes, it is still wrong. I wouldn't need to kill the person because I believe in a God who is bigger than any situation. I would show love to the hikacker--because I believe that God could change his heart.

And that is what I think of when I see movies like Blood Diamond, and Hotel Rwanda, and such. People matter. God can change hearts. He can bring hope. I saw the desolation and the despair on the faces of the people, and even though it was a movie, my heart still broke. I can see how it looks like there is nothing left for those people. And materially, maybe there isn't, or isn't much. But God is bigger--God gives hope because there is truly only hope in God. One of the lines in the movie was when the guy had asked himself where was God in all of this, and then he 'realized God had left Africa a long time ago'. But he hasn't, and I know that. God is still working in all of it!

How can I live in this world and not do something? I don't want to cry a bit, blog a little, and get over it. I want to make a difference. I want to use what I learn here. I want to be the hands and feet - help people. People matter--I want to get that in my heart and live by it.

Sharon.

One page to rule them all (tired of using search engines to find people)

I have to say, Facebook sucks. I much prefer myspace and blogspot. I don't know what's the draw--it's so bland. And I'm going to reiterate the statement made a few blogs back: why can't there be just ONE site for profile/blogging/pictures etc?? So annoying.

S.

Why is it called a glove compartment?

Somebody just signed in on msn with the sign-in name "the glove compartment isn't aptly named and everybody knows it." That struck me; my thoughts led me to those sayings and terms for things that have been in use for so long that nobody really knows why they are called that any more.

And that led me to remember Christology today where Mark was talking about the 1st communion. When Jesus broke the bread, which was a normal thing at any supper, he passed around the bread tell ing the disciples to eat it; it was his body. And same with the cup: this wine was his blood, and they were to drink it. How odd is that? The disciples must have been really confused and not know the significance of it. Like, they didn't get it that Jesus was going to die. They didn't get it that He was going to have His body literally broken for them, and His blood literally shed for them. They didn't get it until after He rose from the dead that He did that to take our sins on Him, cleanse us with His blood.

Yet Mark was saying that how many times do we sit in church and say, "Sheesh, we still have communion to go," as we anxiously look at our watches. We gulp it down and get outta there. Or we expect to have it every month or something. If we don't have it for a while, we wonder why not. But it's more about the ritual. How many times do we think of the impact of Christ's body being broken, His blood being spilled, and us celebrating that?

My point that I am getting at is there are things that we do today that we have no clue why we do anymore. The disciples might have been horrified at Jesus' words that meal. For a Jew to eat human flesh or drink blood! Same when Jesus said in the synagogue after He fed the 5,000 that unless they (the Pharisees I believe) eat His flesh and drink His blood they woudn't have eternal life. That's nuts.

If we ritualize or periodically forget the meaning of such an integral and conspicuous part of our Christian life, how much more do we concerning the more subtle aspects of our walk?

Thoughts?


Snaf

Refreshing...

I just went for coffee with a good friend of mine...very refreshing to talk to her, because we talked about ministry and what we'd do after Summit, etc. Usually I don't want to think about that, but with her, I listen to all the stuff she does at her church and how passionate she is about her church and her youth. It makes me think of the potential I have in me and I think that I let myself get a little blind with all the stuff around me. When I talk to her about this stuff I get a yearning to be mentored and to grow. It's like going for a walk and at first, my muscles aren't really warmed up, but then my legs remember what it's like to be active, and I really start to enjoy the walk. And it's like taking a drink from a clean cool stream after the walk, or maybe it's like wanting to take a drink from that stream, because I know it's going to taste so much better and be so fulfilling.
I guess that's a struggle for me; I get consumed with the things around me, and I lose focus on what I'm here for and where God is leading me. I think that's part of why Williams Lake was so revolutionary for me. I caught a glimpse, or maybe totally saw for the first time, the separation of the spiritual world and the physical. What I mean by that is I realized that all the STUFF in our world, like posessions and physical appearance and money and everything like that, doesn't matter. I caught a glimpse of the spiritual effects of my actions and I realized how materialistic I was about everything, not just stuff but about people too; what people wear and what they look like, all the striving against others for better things, social standing, all of that. I realized that it doesn't matter; what matters is being committed to God, living for him in submission and for his glory. I think that's how we can not worry, by knowing that that stuff doesn't matter.
I don't know. But I do know that the talk with my friend was refreshing and I want to be in the type of situation that she's in where she is challenged and poured into and where she challenges and pours into others.

Yeah. Maybe I just need a cure for blindness.
Snafu.

A Compilation of Random Thoughts

So I am on a bit of a blogging binge. Bear with me. LOL. (I guess it helps when I have lots of time and a house to myself and actual internet access.)

Random thought #1: I love singing. When I am at school I will sing almost more than I speak. I sing random things, I sing bits and pieces of songs, I will just sing absentmindedly. But funny thing is, I don't sing much at home (Mom's.) I sing when no one is there, but I don't sing when a certain person is there (and that person usually is there). Granted, there is usually music going, but really, I am encouraged not to sing by this person. It kind of sucks, now that I think about it. But I sing at my father's house. Actually, yesterday is the first time I sang at my dad's just because I was happy. And really, I was. I was totally relaxed. I guess that's what it is: I sing when I am happy and relaxed.
You know, I watched part of the Oscars with my dad's wife, Amanda. There were a couple of performances by the cast of DreamGirls. They sang their hearts out. They totally let loose and wailed it. I was seriously brought to tears. I don't know, it was moving. And you know what? I want to sing like that. I want to be a powerhouse with my voice and totally go at it. I don't have the skill yet...lol I want to wail it and be GOOD at it, hahaha. I really enjoy singing. Of course, there are days when I don't want to sing or suddenly I will get tired of hearing my voice or being limited in the way that I am...but other, most, times, I love singing.

Random thought #2: My dad has two dogs. One is an American Standard Poodle. No, it is not a ratdog. (The other one is...it's a poodle/king cavalier spaniel X). Anywhoo..
This dog, Steinbeck, I think is less than a year old. The last time I came over I played and played and played with him. This time when I came over, the 1st thing he did when he saw me was bounded over to me and made as if to play with me. It was cute. But being less than a year old, Steinbeck is quite mischevious. I woke up this morning at 6:15 or so to his whining to get out of the crate...Dad came and let him out. Then I woke up again at about 9ish to see that he had gotten into the gingerale. The box was all ripped open and the floor was sticky. He had actually punctured a can--and drank it. My dad said it was a good thing it wasn't alcoholic. Hahaha. And then a little while ago, Steinbeck was kind of wandering around downstairs (where I am). I hear a crash, and as I have my own dogs I know the sound of noses and teeth going where they shouldn't. I look over and he's bent over something like a stick. I holler, he tries to snatch it up with his teeth and run, but he drops it--and I find, to my disgust, that it's my toothbrush. Yuck. He had pulled down my makeup case and was about to go chew my toothbrush. Hm. Looks like I've got to get a new toothbrush today.

Random thought #3: It's snowing in New Westminster. Who'da thunk it?

Random thought #4: Coffee experiences of the weekend: several. Had a really good coffee at Timmy's after yoga, was good and we had good conversation. Sometimes Timmy's coffee can be gross, other times it can just hit the spot. This time it hit the spot.
Went into Bean Bro's for the first time in a number of years. The guy roasts his own coffee, has a roaster right in the place. Quite cool. Business has boomed since my family first started going there. Sells coffee/coffee related stuff on one end of the place, and ha added a kind of bistro I guess on the other side--has a pizza oven, sells different kinds of food, has a different menu and staff altogether than on the coffee end. Quite interesting. Place is packed.
Also, saw some penguin cookies in Safeway, was going to introduce my family to the Tim Tam experience...but they left for work this morning. I tried it, doesn't exacty work with Penguins like it does with Tim Tams...though my coffee was lukewarm so that probably didn't help. I ended up spilling coffee on myself in order to reach my half-drunk beverage. And I had to use skim milk in my coffee...don't like skim in coffee. (I know, call the wambulance, right?)

Random thought #5: My family (grandparents) are debating on whether or not to sell the family cabin. I don't want it to leave the family, neither do my brothers or father or aunt...but it's old, a handmade A-frame that really needs a new foundation and a new roof, plus tons of other work. It's like the Weasley house. Hahaha. Dad, Amanda and I were thinking of putting a sign up saying "the Wheeze-Lee's" ha ha ha ha....
But there's like maintenance and stuff, property tax, Strata fees, etc etc, all sorts of things that Grandma and Grandpa have to pay for. I guess they are getting their will in order as they are in their mid-eighties...they asked my dad how much they liked the cabin, pretty much asked him what he would feel if they put the cabin up for sale. See, though it is old and needs work, we love the cabin. It has many memories for all of us. It is a big part of our family, because we have all put our mark on it in some way or another, ie it being handmade, has stained glass window on the top pane of the back side that my grandmother did and put in, etc. I think that they might sell it came as a shock to my dad; he was dumbfounded for a moment and I think he actually got a bit emotional. I don't want it to leave the family. If I had money, I would totally put work in on it. Heck, I was planning on going down in the late spring and staying for a weekend. That's the place that I was really introduced to my love of hiking.
I guess this whole thing with wills and stuff, leaving things to family, I don't know, it really sucks. My grandpa has Parkinsons, he's getting worse. I almost started crying yesterday when grandpa said that they weren't going to be around forever. My grandparents, I don't know if they're Christian. My grandpa was Jewish, my grandma Catholic, and as far as I know when they got married they gave up their religions. I really don't want them to die without knowing Jesus. I think though that God is faithful...we were talking about the classes I am taking, and they asked me what Christology was, and I talked about why I had to learn Christology. Like, I talked about how we studied the person of Christ, and sin, and how it was important to understand what sin was and what it did, in order to understand what Christ did on the cross. My grandma asked me what sin is (they are both scholars and highly educated, so it's not like they don't know, they just wanted to see what I was being taught I think, like for discussion purposes). And I blushed and told them I had failed that midterm, at which point they laughed...but they still wanted to know. So I told them about the three main terms in Hebrew for sin: sin, iniquity and transgression, and what they meant...and I found myself talking about Romans and how it says that the wages of sin is death, and so when Christ died on the cross he died for our sins (I talked about how in the OT they had to do offerings, and sacrifices for sins) and how Christ was the ultimate sacrifice cuz he was perfect, and stuff like that. Basically I shared the gospel with them..........and I didn't even mean to. Thank God, I don't think that I came across arrogant or pushing it on them, I just told them what I had learned, and what I remembered. I pray that God uses that...haha, I came away a little dazed that I had said all that. I just hope that they saw the sincerity behind my words and that I truly believe all that stuff. I think this is one of those things that I have to trust God on.

IN all this, I have to say that I have had a good start to my break. This weekend has not been like I planned it: I was going to stay with my friend Migiwa, but her entire weekend was busy as she had exams and papers to prepare for/write. I didn't even get to go to youth church with her...and I didn't get to see my friend Nancy, whom I came to Vancouver to see (as well as Migiwa). It just seems that this is the worst weekend to come over. Yet it has been really awesome. I have spent time with my dad and Amanda, having fun the whole time; I saw my grandparents; I have had really good phone conversations with both Migiwa and Nancy; and I am going to a Van Morrison concert tonight with my dad and my brother Mark!! (I didn't know at first who he was, but Mark said he was the dude that did "Brown Eyed Girl" and so then I was like oh my goodness SWEET!!!) And my bro's fiancee knows the sound guy, so we are getting a tour of the sound booth...maybe even backstage??!! WOOT!!!

Well those are my random thoughts. I was going to post about my Williams Lake experience, but I will do that another time; I figured this was getting a little long. Hahaha.

Snafu

Varmint Control!!

So I just saw the funniest video ever. My uncle, who has a skydiving company and a fax company, started ANOTHER company (how many is he going to have???), I think called Varmint Control. He and some buddies I guess take out gophers...they load propane and oxygen I think and besically feed it into gopher holes, and then ignite it. (I think that's how they do it.) The explosive force kills the gophers in the holes and it also caves in the tunnel system. In any case, Uncle Ron (aka Rondo) made this promo video of him and his buddies clearing out a dz (drop zone)....oh my gosh it is so funny. Well I think it is cuz I am related to him. Ha ha. But the ground totally explodes around the guys. Go to www.varmintcontrol.com to see it...it's amazing, hahaha.

On an unrelated note:
I did yoga with my parents this morning. It's called Bikram's yoga...it's a heated room (everyone drips sweat there, no exaggeration) and the intructor keeps a running dialogue. There's no chant or mantra that we need to follow, some of it is stretching like I would normally do except it's called things, like camel or tree or eagle pose. The instructors all swear up and down that it's good for spinal stuff, lets out toxins and releases calcium buildups, etc etc (although the instructor said today about one pose that it restores or repairs brain cells or something, I don't know but I wanted to laugh, lol) but all in all it was a really good workout. I've done Bikram's before I came to Bible College.
What do you guys think about yoga? This kind we don't do any mind exercises or anything or special meditations, but I heard a pastor say recently that the poses are like modeled after eastern gods or something. Do you think it opens the doors to anything? What are your thoughts?

In Vancouver...

So I (Snafu) am in Vancouver right now, at the downtown public library. It's been almost three years since I lived here...maybe even three years...and every time I come back I realize how much I don't want to live here.
I like to people watch and so Vancouver is a great place to do that. On the SkyTrain you can tell who's from Vancouver and who's not: the people who take the train every day are the ones who sit with glazed eyes, staring at nothing and not making eye contact with anyone. They usually clutch their bags to their laps or side; sometimes they rest their heads on the windows or shut their eyes and doze, nodding to the rhythm of the train. They hold their bodies very close to themselves and are careful not to touch those they must sit beside; it's an art they've perfected out of habit. I guess if you're around people all day long, then it's a way of staying solitary and keeping your own space boundaries. I used to be one of those people.
Those that are not daily commuters are more lively; they look around, watch the scenery passing by, are not as comfortable in sitting with the delicate balance of surrounded by people/preserving isolation; they talk more if with someone (thought that could be argued that anyone that has a travel companion would be more active and vocal) and are generally more animated.

People in Vancouver (again, arguable as this could be anywhere) are in a way less sanitary. The bathrooms are gross in public settings and most people do not employ proper handwashing tecniques. (Personally disgusted as I am typing on a public keyboard...yuck!) Yet the people here in Vancouver are generally more concerned with outward appearance than other places I've been. They (both guys and girls) are generally much much thinner, their clothes are tidy and are the latest fashion, and their hair/makeup is done to perfection.

But back to the SkyTrain...the whole idea of people living in a densely populated city and yet be very closed is fascinating to me. That's what I've noticed. The more people there are, the more closed people tend to be. In Vancouver it's very out of the ordinary to be in a public place and have someone look at you (unless they are creepy or something.) Hardly anyone smiles. Everyone seems to be in a rat race...flitting from here to there, it's always very busy, competing against everyone else...for what? I don't know. But it's like because there are so many people around all the time, the only way to preserve sanity and a sense of identity is to close oneself off from everyone else. There's not really any sense of community here.

Thoughts?

I want to do art

I want to do art. I want to sketch, and I want to paint. I want to capture the emotions on the face. It comes and it goes, and this is one of those times when I have inspiration and emotion to pour out, where my fingers just long to pick up a pencil or piece of charcoal and express myself, and capture the elusive emotion I can see on the faces in my mind. I can almost feel the lines I want to draw. It's a beautiful feeling, and almost painful.
But I can't...reality slaps me in the face...I've got midterms to study for. I can't wait to go to Langara.

Snafu.