Oh my little blog, how I have missed you!

My how you’ve changed.

I can barely recognize you, in the best way possible.

This summer we will be great friends again.

Stay sweet.

Love, Blair



This is going to be short and simple. I often try to have these long and complete posts before I can blog and I do not like that. As you can see by my past few, I’ve been a bit intimidated to write. One because of my stupid long and complete post philosophy and two because of Holly and others’ writing skills. But you know what? I’m not an English/Journalism major and I am fine with that. Tangent, wow.

So during a brief facebook chat conversation with Jared Lacroix, I finally was able to put to words why this Christmas seemed so, well, off. Off not necessarily in a bad way. Off in a different way. So as we age, Christmas seems to gradually get dimmer, less extravagant, even a little boring. I was wondering why this is so. Is it like those adventures we went on as children that when revisited now seem eerily lame? Or is it our physical stature that has changed and therefore has changed our perceptions of the size of reindeer or the crazy neighbor’s Christmas light extravaganza? Well whatever it is, it seems to remind me that the magic isn’t in the sparkly things. Or the shiny, bright, or fuzzy things for that matter. As these aspects of Christmas seem to dim, the reality of the day seems to brighten. The dimming seems to make a statement that these temporary sparkly things do fade. They do lose their sheen. And they do become insignificant when compared to the birth of a little babe that would come to rescue his people from this present darkness. So that is my Christmas epiphany.


Crazy photographer, Denis Darzacq. I love when I see (or read or hear) things that I can’t immediately wrap my mind around. I nearly always find that I appreciate it more.

pencil love.


So creative. so innovative. so dainty. More here.

ghost goblets!


Is it a glass? Is it a goblet? Well actually, it’s both. I am in awe.

The proper nap.


I love naps. However, I do not know how to take a proper nap. If you are having the same issues, you might want to go here. Who knew there was so much thought that went into taking a nap?

On cynicism.

First, let me define cynicism and a few characteristics of it. In the modern sense of the word, cynicism is a personal belief that people are motivated primarily by their own self-interests, and the natural order of things leans towards disintegration and corruption. Those who embrace cynicism often separate themselves from the rest of society, believing that society-at-large has largely abandoned its core value system. Cynics see through people, God, situations and give negative interpretations. Cynics are often skeptical, stay away from being passionate, assume the worst of situations, are critical of institutions for unnecessary reasons, and love playing devil’s advocate.

Recently I’ve been wrestling with cynicism. I’m not going to define myself as a cynic because I don’t think I have to. But I often feel like I’m alone in this inner battle of thoughts and often outward expression from these thoughts overwhelming me. So it came as a surprise when I had a conversation with a good friend about this exact struggle. We talked about how consuming cynical thoughts can be, what are the cause of these ideas, and how the heck can they possibly cease? It came as even more of a surprise when Richard’s talk at RUF centered around the idea of cynicism. He talked of the passage(s) in Genesis (17:15-21, 18:9-15, 21:1-7) where God tells Abraham that Sarah will bear a child in her old age. After hearing of such news, her first reaction is to laugh. God then asks why she laughed. He then asks, “Is anything too hard for the Lord?” (Gen. 18:14).

It’s Sarah’s first reaction to laugh. In disbelief. So she won’t cry. For us, too, we laugh in the face of God’s design because we’re too scared to believe that our deepest longings can be met. We laugh to protect ourselves. The beautiful thing is that God is not put off my these cynical attitudes. He challenges us by asking, “Do you really think I am not capable of that?”

After Sarah’s son, Isaac, is born, her cynical laughter is turned into laughter of joy. “Sarah said, ‘God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me.’ And she added, ‘Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.” (Gen. 21:6-7). How beautiful is this? That the laughter of a cynic is turned into laughter of joy through the inconceivable works of our Father.

Laughter can take on many roles. It can be smug, as a cynic is laughing at the object of their criticism. Yet it can be joyful, as we laugh with people. It can be the product of fear or the product of amazement.

I love how I never heard the subject of cynicism come up in my life until the past week when I had been wrestling with it the most. God found ways to shed light on the issue. To bring up the subject in conversations with friends, in the talk of an RUF minister, in the words on the page of a book, and in specific situations. It’s an amazing thing when in the times that we’re so stubburn, so disbelieving, God makes himself so much more obvious to us, as if to say, “Look. See? I can handle that, too. Let me show you.”