I write to be rid of things.

I'm hungry.

2012-01-10T02:53:00.001-05:00

I'm a rather intuitive person, which is convenient, but also gets me into trouble.

I'm excellent at filling in blanks - using whatever little information I have to complete the picture in my head. This has caused me to have a lot of faith in my intuition, which is fine, except when I'm wrong. My intuition and I are such good friends that I will sometimes follow it off of a cliff like a lemming. Or, when I have just few enough details that I can't be sure about something, I have a hard time accepting that I just don't know. I like to know and understand, to be able to connect ideas and information in ways that make sense. I was, after all, a humanities major.

Another, connected part of this funny personality of mine is that I desire very deeply to know myself - what's good for me, what's not, what I need and what I don't. Combine this with my intuition, and it appears that I have been blessed with a very strong and reliable internal compass, except, of course, when I'm wrong.

I say "wrong", but the older I get, the more complicated life becomes. I can no longer walk away from situations, confident that I made the "right" decision. There is still some right and wrong, I think, but the gray bar in the middle of the spectrum continues to widen.

It it no longer "I'm hungry, so eating is the right thing to do."

But, rather, it is "I'm hungry, but I need to be very mindful of the social and economic effects that the food I choose has had in my global and local communities, as well as the nutritional effects it will have in my body. I also need to be mindful of the people around me, being sure not to alienate or offend anyone with my food choice, while still managing to adhere to my principals."

Oh, my.

Enter: conflicted insides. I talked a little bit about this in a post last week about expectations, but now I'm thinking more about how annoying it is that I can't always just do what feels right, without worrying about the consequences. If I am served chicken at a friend's house, it feels right to eat the chicken and thank them, but that doesn't mean I wont think about the horrors of the meat industry.

I like it, though - the complexity. It's like when you're in college and you finish with the general education requirements and finally start to study the things you love. Your mind is blown as you discover things are less neat than you thought, but you appreciate the field that much more.

So, here's to complicated adulthood. May it never get boring.

This post was written, on time, as part of a blogging game. The players are The Creative Collective. Read here what the others have to say about "Hunger."

Goodness, gracious.

2012-01-08T12:04:00.003-05:00

I was walking by myself downtown last night at about 10pm, and a man stopped me. His appearance suggested that he was having a hard time of it, maybe even didn't have a home - tired face, worn clothes.

"Excuse me, could you help me out?" he asked, politely.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any cash." I smiled and replied, starting to walk backwards toward my destination. Since I stopped waiting tables, I never have any cash. This has become a kind of reflex for me - I don't want to let people spend too much time asking me for money I don't have.

"I'm not asking for money, I just need help getting some food."

I stopped walking. It's bad enough that there are people in my city in real need of food, but if a person is standing in front of me asking for it, there's really no excuse.

I looked around. We were right by a convenience store. I thought maybe we could go in there and I would buy him something with my credit card.

"What kind of food?" I asked. This was important to the plan of action I was putting together in my head.

"I need food for my baby. I have a ten-month old and they kick you out of the shelter after 60 days. I'm not ever from here, I'm from Connecticut."

At this point, two things were going on in my head: First, why was he not answering my question? It made me think that his speech about the baby was just that, a speech. Second, I remembered that I actually did have cash, but I was too embarrassed to give it to him, lest he think I was lying when I said I had none.

"Listen, I'm coming to a woman for help, so you know I must be in a really bad place," he went on, grinning and bowing slightly, as if I could certainly understand that.

My eyes squinted and my mouth got smaller.

"I'm sorry. Not tonight." I smiled weakly and walked away.

I'm a little ashamed that I let my ideas about gender equality stop my from further engaging a human that was obviously in need of something (maybe not food, but something). I really bothered me, though. I thought "Really? Even here? Even when I'm being panhandled, I need to be told by another person, who doesn't know me at all, that my being a woman dictates what role I can play and what I have to offer?"

Goodness, gracious.

--
This post was written as part of a blogging game. The players are The Creative Collective. Click here to read what the others have to say about "MEN."

Going Rogue

2012-01-04T17:25:00.000-05:00

I've half-made a few resolutions in my head. You know, the kind you don't really want to make because you suspect there will a time when you really want to break them, and if you never made them, then you're not really breaking them, right?

One resolution that I did make is to write all of The Creative Collective (see the bottom of this post for more info) posts that I missed over the past year. The problem is that part of the reason I missed the posts is that I didn't have anything to say about the topic. Creativity: challenged.

My first make-up topic is "Where no one else has gone before." I think the reason I avoided this topic is because it alludes to something I have a bit of an issue with: being unique. I've somehow grown into quite the little realist. Not sure how that happened. Maybe I was always this way. In any case, I'm discovering that it's a help and a hindrance.

I like being realistic because it gives me a certain confidence. If I have a project in front of me, I'm pretty good at discerning what needs to happen in order for it to be completed well. I can be a visionary, but I'm inhibited by what I can actually see coming to pass in my brain - nuts and bolts and all.

I don't like being realistic because it makes risk difficult when something important is at stake. I can see, all too well, every reason a thing wont work.

For instance, over the past several months, and more-so since being laid off, I've been pursuing some entrepreneurial projects. The idea was, if no one was going to hire me to do something important, I'd just have to hire myself.

The problem is, there is a lot of risk involved in these types of things. It's less the financial risk that I'm concerned about, and more the risk of being made a fool. If I put any real faith in these projects and they fail, then I will have been unwise and wrong, and I don't like to be unwise and wrong.

I understand that failure at this sort of thing isn't really failure, it's invaluable learning experience, blah blah blah, but that doesn't really make me feel any better. I like to be right and I like to succeed.

So, I move forward, because it's what I want to do, but pretty regularly I have this unpleasant discussion in my head that's similar to two parents discussing whether or not to let their 5'1" asthmatic son try out for the NBA.

"He'll just be crushed."

"I know, but we have to let him try."

Depressing, right?

Yes. But every time I feel as discouraged as can be, something tiny happens: a kind word or a small success, and I'm back in the game. I hear this is what being a rogue professional is like, so I guess that's a good sign.

Old photo of me looking triumphant:

This post was written, though very tardily, as part of a blogging game. The players are The Creative Collective, and here are their thoughts on "Where no one else has gone before."

What do you want from me?

2011-12-30T00:50:00.000-05:00

The older I get, the more I am beginning to recognize the pain caused by expectations.

--

I was in a church service, not too long ago. The message was about wise financial practices. At one point in the sermon, the pastor said "Men, it's okay if your wife makes more money than you, but you're ultimately responsible for making sure that your family is being provided for, financially."

This was upsetting to me. It seems to me that it is difficult enough to love and care for one another unconditionally without having to worry about fitting your relationship into some kind of mold.

I can (and will) compare it to raising a child to be a doctor. Sure, it might work out. The child might grow up with the correct set of gifts and interests to be a doctor, but the child might not. And if the child does not, then they are left with a life of failure or unfulfillment. It is frowned upon for parents to predetermine their children's lives, but why is it acceptable to predetermine what a couple's marriage will look like, apart from generally wise and godly principals? Does this not set them up for failure and stop them from developing their relationship organically and uniquely, based on who the people in the relationship are - their gifts and interests, strengths and weaknesses?

I don't like the idea of being told that what I have to offer a relationship has more to do with my gender than who I actually am. I'm not married, so I am lacking perspective, but it seems to me that the added pressure of having to be something other than simply loving, committed, and graceful might make the difference between an exciting adventure and a wild goose chase.

To test my theory, I asked a married couple about this. The wife said that at one point in their marriage, she realized that it made more sense for her to manage the finances. She is more detail-oriented, better with numbers, and, as a stay-at-home mom, had more time to do it. The problem was, because of how the couple had been conditioned, it was difficult for her to take on this role without them both feeling like he had failed her in some way. They've moved past it now, but I thought this was a fascinating example of how the church, though well-intentioned, can really make life more difficult for it's members with unnecessary expectations.

--

As long as we're talking about things of which I know very little, let's move on to parenting. This is something I'm very much looking forward to, while at the same time, am very much terrified by. I have three nieces, and watching them grow up has been one of the great joys in my life, but the idea of parenting scares me. And one of the biggest reasons for this is the pressure that I see on moms in the culture that surrounds me. This is by no means a church-problem, but a culture-problem. I could write more about this, but someone else has done a better job here. The bottom line is that I hope I can find a way to enjoy my children, even if parenting magazines or some neighbor lady tells me I'm doing it wrong.

--

So, what about me? I'm not a spouse or a parent. What undue expectations am I struggling with?

I'm an adult; I'm single; I'm a Christian; I'm a woman; I'm unemployed. My culture tells me to pursue my career. My body tells me to date and have fun. Churches tell me that I should get married and have children. My brain tells me that I should make wise choices. My heart tells me that I should love those around me. (I will add that God is in all of these things and that these divisions are not as clean as I make them sound, and some don't exist at all, but for the sake of the conversation, allow me to create them.)

When all is said and done, I feel tension in most places. My heart and my brain influence me in ways that stop me from fully participating in the fun, the dating, the pursuit of a career, and the marriage. And so, I am, in ways, at odds with parts of my culture, church, and even my own body. The silver lining is that this tension keeps me on my toes, it keeps me thinking, like a tightrope-walker. Every step is cautious, but needs to be made in confidence, or I'll never get anywhere. Admittedly, I slip sometimes. I lean too far in one direction, but that's where the safety net of grace comes in. (Have I taken the analogy too far?) I ask for grace from my God, my community, and my toughest critic: myself.

--

I conclude that expectations can, I suppose, be helpful, but only for the person who knows herself well enough to know which are appropriate and which are toxic, and who is honest enough to live accordingly. May we be that person in this world full of expectations.

It really is a wonderful life.

2011-12-13T09:00:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I go through this unfortunate writing season during which I believe that I can't write anything unless I have some sort of epic truth to communicate to the world. Understandably, I don't write during these times, as new epic truths are often difficult to come by. Usually, I free myself by forcing myself to sit down and write about something somewhat inconsequential, like what's going on in my life.

Today, I'll do just that.

The last time I wrote about what was going on in my life was over two months ago, and I had just been laid off. I can only imagine that all of my readers are sick with curiosity as to how I've been spending my time, and how I will avoid living in a box.

I still have no job, though I have a had a few interviews that went very well. I've also been working on some entrepreneurial (spelled that without spell-check, by the way) projects, one of which has some promise.

To be honest, I have no idea what I'll be doing in six months. I could own my own business, be back in school, be working in another office, or be waiting tables. Likely, it will be more than one of those things, plus or minus some other unforeseen life-change. I've stopped trying to guess.

I was reflecting on my life the other day (I do this most days, now) and couldn't really name one tangible, life-altering "success" that I have achieved since I bought my house over two years ago. I suppose I was promoted last fall, but in retrospect, I'm not sure I care to add that to this list.

Why, then, am I still happy - with no job and no job offers in an unkind job market? Sure, I go through times of despair and hopelessness, crippling self-doubt and complete lack of motivation, but for the most part, my world is still rosy.

I have some theories.

One is that I don't have to do things I don't care about anymore. That's a biggie.

Another is that, through applying and interviewing for jobs, as well as making professional connections for the sake of my would-be business, I have begun to build a type of professional confidence that previous workplaces have more or less stopped me from developing. I've started to think "I can do this," and actually believe it, even if it's something I've never even thought about doing before.

These two things have been really great for me, and have made this unique time one of growth and learning.

However, there is one other thing, to which I can't help but accredit most of my joy: my community.

Because I was never 100% enthusiastic about my job over the past few years, I found purpose and fulfillment in something else: building a home (meaning the people, not the building, though I am fond of my building) and community. I see now that I made the right choice. I don't believe my home or my community will be laying me off anytime soon. :)

In all seriousness, though, I completely believe that, even if I had my dream job (and knew what that was), but had no real home or community to speak of, my life would not have nearly as much as joy in it as it does now. I have people I can rely on and who need me. I am affirmed often. I busy myself by recognizing what it is that I have to offer, and trying my best to have open hands.

I watched It's A Wonderful Life recently and cried a lot. I had never identified with it so much. In the end, when George Bailey, in the face of financial ruin on top of a heap of abandoned dreams, finds redemption and salvation in the community he has taken in place of the life he wanted, I nearly lost it.

--
This post was written as part of a synchroblogging game that The Creative Collective likes to play. Click here to read what the other players have to say about "Community."

Deep Thoughts

2011-11-01T09:00:00.000-04:00

Water is kind of like tofu. Whether or not it's a good thing depends entirely on what is done with it.

I find that most things are that way.

This post is part of The Creative Collective's synchroblogging game. To read the others' posts on Water, click here.

I'm stepping in love with you.

2011-10-31T13:57:00.001-04:00

I like analogies. If you've read a bit of what I write here, you may already know that. The world is so vast and beautiful and interconnected, that I can't help but think of a thousand existing things while trying to describe one new thought. They help me understand things I've never experienced. Experience is the best teacher, yes, but an apt analogy is like a good study partner.

Despite my frequent use (and perhaps overuse) of analogies, there's one thing that I just can't seem to match: marriage.

I understand that the church is the bride of Christ, and so we can model marriages that way - trying to incorporate the love and sacrifice shown by Christ into our own relationships, but even that is not something I can say I completely understand. Analogies are supposed to be simple and familiar: throwing a party, closing a door, stubbing your toe.

There's no earthly thing that I can compare to committing myself to another person forever. I suppose if I chopped off my leg, that would be permanent and difficult to ignore, like a marriage, but I'd rather not draw that parallel. I have some hope that being married is very different from being an amputee.

And so, because I cannot understand marriage by thinking about something else I already understand, I live with a healthy fear and respect for it. Part of this healthy fear and respect is an increasing befuddlement with common ideas surrounding the whole thing. Falling in love, for instance. Yikes. I have no doubt that there is some kind of romantic thing that happens and which feels beyond the control of the person affected - something like infatuation and excitement - but I doubt more and more that that has very much to do, really, with marriage. The marriages I admire appear to be participated in very much on purpose.

When someone says to me "you can't help who you love," I have begun to assume that our definitions of love are quite different. Similarly, anxiety wells within me when I hear people talk about engaging in a less-than-wonderful relationship as "taking risks for the sake of love." What I really hear is "taking risks for the sake of not being alone." That scares me because I'm learning that people don't realize how much they have to lose. I've, somewhat accidentally, learned what they have to lose. I have an extraordinary amount of singleness experience, and I shudder to think that I could have lost all of that - the fun, the learning, the independence, the empowerment, had I decided that not being alone was more important than waiting for something that fit.

I am only 25, yes. I have not yet lost the will to encourage people around me to relish their singleness and, if marriage or some kind of committed relationship is what they desire, wait. Wait and be intentional. Your are of more value to the world as an energetic, joyful, single person than you will ever be as a person in a relationship that does not give you joy or energy.

This post, though tardy, is a part of The Creative Collective's synchroblogging game. Click here to read what the others have to say about Falling.

yet again

2011-10-04T09:00:00.000-04:00

The Prequel: http://tinyurl.com/3c5h5ok

I ended up a server at a gourmet breakfast place and renting a studio on my parents' property. I told the restaurant when I was hired that I would be looking for an additional full-time job.

When I accepted a full-time position at a salon/day spa, I drove straight to the restaurant to let the owner know. He told me that I was no good to him and fired me. I cried all the way home.

A few months later, I was leaving the salon with the two owners in the middle of the day to attend a fashion show. I set the alarm, but as I was talking to the owners, I was distracted and forgot to lock the door. After we were gone, a customer walked into the space and set off the alarm. Nothing was damaged or stolen, but I was fired anyway. (My experience there up until that point had been so life-draining that I actually received a congratulations card.)

About a month later, I started a job for a publishing company - finally something that seemed to have anything to do with what I went to school for, or could see myself doing long-term. After about six months, I realized that it was not the type of company that I wanted to work for: not invested in the local community in any way and not even interested in building relationships within the company, not to mention that they managed through fear, pressure, and negative reinforcement.

I began to look into other options/coping mechanisms.

I was going to move to South America to teach English, but I couldn't find a program that inspired me and for which I was qualified.

I decided to go to graduate school for. I took the GRE and started a couple of applications. That looked promising until I was told by several people that I shouldn't go to graduate school unless I absolutely needed to in order to get where I was going. The problem was that I didn't know where I was going, I only knew where I didn't want to be. I didn't finish the applications.

After the earthquake in Haiti, I had an opportunity to go there for a week as a volunteer. My company told me I could not, as I would not yet have earned enough vacation days to take the entire week off. I cried at my desk and my desire to leave the place grew stronger than it had ever been. (Right around that time, they began greatly increasing my responsibilities. I asked for a raise. They said "No. You haven't been promoted.")

Even though I couldn't go on the trip to Haiti, a connection formed and I planned to move there to use my skills to teach children in an orphanage and publish a newsletter that would help them gain support in the States. Finally, an escape into something that would do someone some good.

The connection fell through and the trip was canceled. I felt chained to my desk.

I decided that the thing to do, since I had now been with the company for two years, was to look for another job. Surely, with such experience, I would be able to find something interesting.

No.

I applied for several jobs over the past couple of years. Each of them, I was qualified for and excited about. For each of them, I submitted a carefully crafted resume and cover letter. None of those applications even lead to an interview.

Not even an interview.

And here we are, almost three years after I started at the publishing company.

This past Thursday, my manager calls me into her office.

"Your position is no longer available."

"Okay. Are there any other positions available?"

"No. Please check in with me before you leave today to turn in your keys and credit card."

"Okay. Thank you."

And now I have no job.

I am not sad.

(Though, my feelings are hurt because my employer of three years laid me off as though they were notifying a temp that their assignment had ended.)

I enjoyed my co-workers, but very rarely the job, itself. Plus, now I can get work on getting back to the future I had always dreamed about in college, the one that's been on hold for three years, the one in which I work for something I am proud of and believe in. See you there.

This post was written as a part of The Creative Collective's synchroblogging game. Click here to read what the others have to say about Back to the Future.

Nope.

2011-09-06T09:34:00.000-04:00

I understand that growing up involves the pruning of dreams. I understand that the older I get, the more things will need to be given up, in order to pursue other things - the ones I have decided are important and worth the sacrifice. What I don't always understand is how to decide which is which.

Which dreams, loves, passions, likes, enjoyments, amusements, and whatevers need to be given up, to make way for others to grow?

I sometimes feel like I'm standing in front of a large garden bed, brimming with life and then I'm told that the weeds must be pulled, in order for the desirables to be saved. The problem is, they all look desirable to me.

I know that part of this is a personality issue. For instance, I was a humanities major because I didn't like the idea of not being able to take a particular class I wanted to take, simply because it was "out of my major." The humanities program at Milligan, thankfully, included so many areas of study, that I was never presented with a problem like that. My biggest problem was that I needed special approval to register for more than eighteen credit-hours in one semester.

As an adult, things have become more complicated.

I need a path. I need a calling. I need something that fits the needs of my community as well as the strengths and desires of my person.

But what?

Gah.

This is like being asked to pick a major all over again. Can I find the humanities department of life?

I don't think so.

Here are a couple of songs with which I identify. Maybe they'll validate a part of you like they do for me.

This post was created as a part of a synchroblog. Visit The Creative Collective to see more posts on "Giving Up for the Long Haul."

Which?

2011-08-09T09:00:00.006-04:00

Our feet are pulled to the earth because it's the biggest thing around.

Toward what are our other parts pulled?

This post was created as part of a synchroblog. Click here to read more posts on The Earth around the Sun, or the Sun around the Earth: Centers of Gravity

Charleston, in two parts

2011-07-26T09:00:00.002-04:00

Part 1 - The Audition

This past Friday, I auditioned for American Idol.

It's silly, I know. The show is questionable and the artists it produces are questionable, I know. Nevertheless, I enjoy watching it. I don't really feel the need to defend myself, but I will say that there's something heart-warming about watching "normal" people with extraordinary talents be recognized for them. That's all.

I sing because it's fun and I like to entertain people, be it on a stage or in my home. I have no delusions of grandeur, but decided to audition anyway for the following reasons:

1. I wouldn't be very disappointed if I was rejected - I'm secure in my limited ability. Also, I would have an answer the next time someone said "Oh my gosh, you should totally try out for American Idol!" Not much to lose.
2. If I made it through even one round of auditions, I'd be thrilled.
3. If I were able to actually be on the show, I'd get to hone my craft, wear fun clothes, and entertain many people. Plus, Steven Tyler might say something creepy to me, and that'd be a story to tell.

Well, the audition came and went and I did not make it through to the next round. A man who had been listening to singers for 10 hours (and who looked like Bono) mustered the minimum requirement of earnestness to explain to me that I had a nice voice, but that I wasn't what they were looking for. (The whole process took 12 hours, but that's a story for another time.)

What did I learn from the American Idol audition? Absolutely nothing.

Part 2 - The Hosts

Rewind a bit. When I knew I was going to the aforementioned audition in Charleston, SC, I also knew that I did not want to get a hotel room for my sister and me. I realize that I'm 25, but the idea of paying $100ish to sleep somewhere hasn't become any easier to deal with. Therefore, I took advantage of my social media connectedness and posted on Facebook, asking if anyone knew of anyone in Charleston who might be willing to host some American Idol hopefuls. My friend, Scotland, with whom I had lived long ago in a faraway land, responded that he had some friends in Charleston and set up a line of communicated between them and me.

The result of that Facebook post was a long weekend staying in the living room of, I feel confident staying, the most hospitable home in Charleston - the home of Kevin, Janice, Tyler and Zack, all young professional twentysomethings. Beyond their home, they shared with us conversation, watermelon, card games, friends, music, french toast, and an ocean river float. Sure, we drove to Charleston for the audition, but that was, though a unique and entertaining experience, one of the least enjoyable activities of the weekend.

What did I learn from staying with Kevin, Janice, Tyler, and Zack? 1) I have friends in Charleston. 2) Hospitality for strangers is not something that mostly exists in records of ancient cultures. 3) Friendship and openness are more valuable to the human spirit than the approval of a Hollywood producer who looks like Bono. Okay, I already knew that last one, but thought it was worth mentioning anyway.

This post is a part of a synchroblog. Click here to peruse other posts on "What we might become if..."

fear itself

2011-07-12T08:53:00.002-04:00

It was chilly and raining some, the bleak type of fall weather. I was only about 30 minutes into a four or five-hour road trip. I was alone.

Between the swishes of my windshield-wipers, I noticed a dark blob on the right side of the road ahead of me. As I approached the blob, I saw that it was actually three, smaller blobs. It wasn't until I sped past them that I realized they were people, walking beside the highway.

"How miserable." I thought.

Their clothes must have been wet and their bodies must have been freezing.

From what I could tell during the instant that I was able to recognize them as human, they were about my age, two men and a woman, dressed in dark clothing and carrying a cardboard sign I could not read.

I pulled off of the next exit so that I could turn around and pick them up. I don't remember deciding that it was a good idea, I just knew that it was what was going to happen. Kind of like if you see a five dollar-bill on the sidewalk - there is no deliberation, you just pick it up.

During the few minutes that it took me to get off the exit, re-enter the highway in the opposite direction and then repeat that process, I called Jackie.

"Hi. I'm about to pick up some hitchhikers and I thought I should tell someone."

I don't know why I thought that calling a friend who lived 14 hours away would be helpful. Perhaps it was a subconscious effort to involve someone else enough to sooth my anxiety, but not enough to surrender any control.

She urged me to be careful.

I ended the call just as I began to brake and pull off of the road. I stopped the car a bit behind them, but they had noticed me and were facing me now. I got out of the car.

"You guys need a ride?"

"Yeah! Thank you so much."

I popped my trunk and they unloaded their backpacks.

They rode with me for two hours. Apart from the slight smell of hours of highway walking and my own anxiety about which questions were not polite to ask, it was a pleasant ride. They were on their way to New Orleans for Halloween. They were intentionally homeless and traveled the country by hitchhiking and sneaking onto trains.

The whole idea seemed so romantic; in many ways, they were free. I, with my recently earned BA, student loans, and a career to begin, was feeling the ever-mounting pressure of the quarter-life crisis while they were happy to not know where they would sleep that night. What was more fascinating was learning that there is an entire community of people with this same lifestyle for whom Halloween in New Orleans is an a annual reunion, similar to the college homecoming at the end of my road trip.

Part of me would like to say that I sold my car in the next city, bought a black hoodie and joined them, but I did not. I dropped them off at a friend of a friend's house where they could stay the night. They were very grateful for the ride and I was grateful for the experience.

Immediately, as a 22 year-old, what I took from the experience was that I wanted to be a street kid, not have a career or pay rent.

Since then, I've learned the value of staying in one place - how the longer you stay in a place or even in a good relationship, the more clearly you can see your own reflection in it. How can I identify and improve myself if I only ever see my vague likeness through the eyes of people and places who barely know me?

Now, I look back on the experience as a small liberation from fear. It is upsetting how capable I am of letting my life be dictated by fear. Those people needed something: a ride and a place that was not cold or rainy. I had what they needed and it cost me very little to give it to them. I try not to tell this story too much because it is met with much criticism. Sure, they could have pulled out an ax and beheaded me right there in my Altima, but they didn't. I don't want my goal in life to be to live the longest with the least amount of pain. I want to fully engage the world around me without fear. If that means being beheaded, then so be it.

This post was written as part of a synchroblog. Topic: Independence. Here are links to my fellow synchroblogger's posts:
nightsbrightdays: hypothetically speaking
karma's fool: truly local
the rebel i: independence
plow and rain: a thing is itself
art, et cetera by megan e b jones: interbeing
wordshepherd: Escape Velocity, Part III
passionately pensive: Bodily Interruptions
muddleddreamer: Co-dependence

they didn't

2011-05-26T09:00:00.002-04:00

"So, what is it that you do?"

As a server, and particularly as a server dressed like a firefighter, I would get this question a lot. "Surely," they were really saying, "that red shirt and black suspenders couldn't represent every one of your current ambitions."

"I'm in school," I would respond, with my bright server-smile and nod.

"Oh, wonderful," they would reply, with an even bigger smile.

(I never understood why people were so enthusiastic about my being in school. As far as I knew, it was just what people did when they were my age.)

"What are you going to school for?"

"I'm a Humanities major."

"Oh." And then came that face they all made every time: the smile was still there, but I could always see right through it to the confusion or even skepticism. The slight squint of the eyes is what usually gave them away.

"What will you do with that?" I think they asked this for their own sake more than for mine. They wouldn't be able to sleep that night if they knew there was a young person out there paying money (borrowing, even) for a degree in Humanities and no brilliant idea as to how they would earn that money back.

"I guess I'll teach. Either that or be a very educated homeless person," and we would both laugh as I ran off to get them their sweet tea.

How is someone who has majored in Humanities (yes, in general) supposed to get a job?

This was a funny thing we martyrs of the universities laughed about with each other and I even used as a boilerplate server joke (I apologize to anyone holding onto the idea that their server makes up those jokes just for them).

To be honest, I was never really worried about finding a job while I was in college. That could have something to do with being surrounded by so many others in the same boat. We were like lemmings: surely this wasn't any kind of suicide - there were so many in front of me and behind me.

In the fall of my senior year, I heard of this wonderful program called Teach for America. Program. What a lovely word, especially for a college student who, despite all of the quests for independence, would really like nothing more than for someone to tell them what to do.

As soon as I heard about it, I was sold. I submitted my application in January and by February I had passed my phone interview and was preparing for my day-long interview in Knoxville - writing a lesson for high school students about the social commentary in Oliver Twist.

I chose this topic because I had written an essay on it during my semester in Oxford. That's right, Oxford. These interviewers had no idea what they were in for. I had this. I knew I had this. This was clearly where my life was going. I needed the program and the program needed me. I would teach underprivileged children for two years all while earning a graduate degree, loan forgiveness and, gasp, a salary!

The day on which I was to receive the email containing my school-assignment (where I would teach for two years), I was spring breaking on a large boat in the middle of the ocean, with no internet access that I cared to pay for. I spent the whole week enjoying myself and wondering at the new life I would begin in only a couple of short months.

As soon as the boat docked in Florida, I turned my phone on and called my mom. I had given her my email account login information so that she could check the assignment for me.

"Hi Mom, we're back in Florida. Where are they sending me?" I had no time for small talk about islands and sunburns. I could barely speak through my smile! She didn't answer right away and my mind went wild with thoughts of the possibilities: Boston, San Diego, or even North Carolina. Sure, it was less exciting, but at least I'd be near my family.

She still didn't answer me. It had only been a few seconds, but I was impatient.

"Mom? Where did they offer me a position?" I put my finger in my other ear, in case I just wasn't hearing her.

"They didn't."

Fast forward two months.

Location: A restaurant near my (parents') house, North Carolina

"Would you like toast or an English muffin with your omelet?"

"Oh, toast is fine. So, are you in school?"

"Well, I just graduated a couple of weeks ago."

"Congratulations!"

"Thanks."

"What did you study?"

"Humanities, actually."

"Oh. That's nice. What will you do with that?"

"You're looking at it."

We both laugh.

"I'll be right back with your toast."

This post is part of a synchroblog. Topic: surprise.
Fellow synchrobloggers' posts:
Years That Ask Questions
Surprise Ending
a whale
Fly

pince caspeen

2011-05-10T09:00:00.001-04:00

"Caelia, I've already kept you up too late, I don't think we should read."

Trying to reason with a six year-old works about 15% of the time, which is a good enough success rate to justify an attempt.

"But dad lets me and Rose stay up to read!" she protests.

This would not be among the 15%.

"Okay," I say, but draw out the word with a sigh, so it is very clear that I am making a sacrifice here, "but just for a little while."

I scoot sideways into the bottom bunk next to her while she settles in with a flashlight and her chosen reading material.

"This is Prince Caspian, one of the Chronicles of Narnia."

As soon as she says it, my mind hurls a memory to it's forefront and I smile.

She was only about three at the time, and sitting on my lap in a movie theater. It's one of my fondest memories of her at that age.

The lights dim and the previews start, but Caelia is not participating in the settle-when-it's-dark agreement between movie-goers. Not one bit.

"I'm fursty! I'm so fursty!" she "whispers." For any of you who have heard a three year-old "whisper," you understand how the quieter they try to be, the louder they actually are. (This phenomenon, unfortunately, does not leave us as we grow, but only manifests itself differently.)

Down the row comes the closest community drink cup (Yes, even now, no one gets their own drink cup when my family goes to the movies.) to quench her painful "furst," and, more importantly, to quiet her so as not to disturb our movie-neighbors.

Once the paper cup is in both of her hands, there is quiet, apart from the loud breathing and humming sounds, which escape between large, satisfying, three year-old gulps. I move in my seat, getting comfortable and squeezing her a bit, thinking, "How nice it is to have a three year-old on my lap. She's so sweet."

Silence interrupts my thoughts - the breathing, humming, and gulping has subsided.

"I'm hungy! I'm so hungy!" she, again, "whispers."

Down the row comes one of the two oversized popcorn buckets.

"Om, om, om, om, om, om," she says (yes, says) as she crunches away. At this point, I'm even more concerned about the movie-neighbors - the movie has just begun.

"Caelia, you need to be quieter. People are trying to watch the movie," I whisper, considerately.

"I'm dust eating! Dis is how you eat!" she retorts, apparently offended that I would accuse her of doing anything purposefully disruptive.

I can't really help but laugh.

About ten minutes later, she exclaims, "Who's Pince Caspeen?!", frustrated because the plot is not introducing/developing this character quickly enough for her liking.

Then there are the many lap-changes, demanded as she decides she is bored with her current seat.

"I want to sit with Unkew Mahco!" (Uncle Marco) she says, and we do as she demands - a movie theater is not really a place to start an argument.

Perhaps my favorite is when Susan (the character) tells one of her brothers to "shut up." Caelia, shocked at the explicit nature of the dialogue, announces "Oh, she said a bad word!" It takes me a while to figure out which word, exactly, is "bad." Leave it to a three year-old to expose desensitization.

All of this played in my head until Caelia had finished reading a couple of pages to me. Her eyes were tired because I really had kept her up too late. She put the book away and pulled the covers up to her neck. Then, just as she was starting to doze, and I was looking at her all sentimental-like, she wiped her runny nose with her hand and then, with the same hand, hugged my head.

What a shame it is that we, as adults, retain so little of that natural candor. The older we get, the better actors we become. We learn to eat and drink quietly; question, demand, and judge only in our heads; and use tissues, all so that the world can be protected from both our noises and from our runny noses.

My fellow synchrobloggers' posts:

The Wax and the Wings

shame shame

Ain't No Sham in Cryin'

waiting for twelve

I don't feel too old

2011-04-26T09:00:00.019-04:00

I came down hard and heard a pop.

Then there was a sharp pain in my right ankle. My right foot had slyly and selfishly turned in to escape the impact of the landing, failing it's close neighbor, the ankle, which was left to absorb the shock. While feet excel at this, ankles do not. This explains the pain.

I was on a trampoline, which is good because it had more give than any ground I've ever met, though had I been on the ground, I would not have been falling through the air and therefore would not have needed the give.

In any case, the ankle was sprained.

The next day at my office, my supervisor, upon seeing the crutch leaning against the wall near my desk, pointed to it and furrowed her brow.

"I sprained my ankle yesterday," I said. She continued to look at me and her brow continued to be furrowed.

"I was on a trampoline," I went on, expecting this to be enough, expecting her eyebrows to raise, her head to nod, and her feet to take her away from my desk. Perhaps she would even say "ahhh," as she did it, to confirm that she now understood completely.

Instead, her brow was as furrowed as ever, her eyes squinted, her head turned, and her mouth broke into a small smile. It was as if I had just told the punchline of a joke. It was not, however, a joke. My ankle hurt.

I was confused at her reaction. I expected some combination of amusement and compassion at the telling of my tale, but this was more like amusement and skepticism, or even judgement.

"Am I too old for that story?" I asked, joking, of course, but not knowing why else should would be looking at me that way.

"Yes. You're in a new age bracket now, Katie," was her response.

She laughed and walked away.

I was shocked. I'm still shocked.

I've never been too old to do something before, or at least something that I've actually wanted to do. I had come to believe that the changing list of activities that occupies one's time is not related to an external set of rules, but the dynamic interests, desires, and priorities of a growing person. I thought that jumping on a trampoline was an acceptable behavior until my desire to jump on a trampoline had faded, which was not now. But, here I was, being chuckled at. Was my theory incorrect? Is it fantasy to believe that I can do whatever I'd like to do, as long as I'm able?

I certainly hope that she is wrong and not me. If I am wrong, and I am every day losing the ability to participate in youthful activities, I hope there is a guide somewhere - a book that can tell me everyday which activities I should avoid, if I wish to also avoid the chuckles.

fellow synchrobloggers' posts:
breathing
The Next Long Haul
outer door

my baby, the earth

2011-04-12T09:32:00.000-04:00

It seems to me that we all take ourselves far too seriously.

Everyone goes around, trying only to give as much as they've gotten. God forbid someone take too much from us, without making up for it later. It's amazing that our heads don't explode from keeping track of who owes what to whom in every relationship we have.

I'm not really talking about money, either, though that can be part of it, but favors, affection, kind words, unsolicited help, and general regard are all parts of it.

I'm not discluding myself. If someone asks me for something, and my internal tabulator cannot make it fit into the economics of our relationship, I am irked. Similarly, if someone offers to help me with something, and I can't find a way in which they somehow owe it to me, I am uncomfortable and, usually, refuse. Unusual debts are more difficult to keep track of and to reconcile. And we all must always be reconciled.

We can't really figure out which is worse - to feel that someone has taken too much from us, or to feel that we have taken too much from someone else. It's all arrogance. We think of ourselves as strong people, no one's doormat, people who draw the line where the line needs to be drawn. We are also offended by the idea of owing something to someone else. We are far too independent for that.

I want to let go. I want all that I have to be fluid, to come and go as the world around me calls for it, like the ocean throwing waves on the shore and then taking them back. I don't want to fight the ocean. I don't want to keep track, either. It gives me anxiety.

It seems that the only human relationship that seems to, on occasion, escape this system is the relationship between parents and children. (Please let me make this romantic generalization. Thanks.) The best parents will give and give and give everything they have to give, including the most earnest and pain-staking decision-making as to what it is, exactly, that their precious little ones need. Do they run dry? Do they ever decide that they've been used up, or that they've somehow lost their worth? Not usually. Not in a fatal way, anyway. They are fueled by love.

Why do we, then, fear so much? If I lend someone money and they don't pay me back, am I somehow less of a person? Have they taken any of my humanness away? No. No. No.

Love. Confidence. Gratitude. Holding on to these things, maybe I can let go of everything else.

fellow synchrobloggers' posts:
Debt, n
Indebted
What Do I Owe You?
debt we debtors
Debt of Lament

I play music at bars sometimes.

2011-04-01T08:57:00.002-04:00

I play music at bars sometimes. It's good fun. My friends come out. I meet new people - bar patrons, other musicians, adventurous friends of friends. All of this, I enjoy.

This story is about one of these times.

I had been looking forward to this show. I liked the venue and it was close to my house. Also, we hadn't played in a while, so the resilient novelty was back.

The sound check was over and so I approached the bar for a free PBR, my favorite of the minimal perks awarded small-time musicians. As I waited, a man entered from the street. His appearance wasn't remarkable, but the way he interacted with his surroundings was slightly alarming. He greeted everyone with great physical and vocal enthusiasm, like he had just arrived at a family reunion. The responses were minimal or nonexistent, which made his behavior seem even that much more out of place.

He approached me and asked a few questions. I, entertained, engaged him for a short period of time.

"Who's in your band?" he asked.

"Those guys over there. " I answered, pointing to a small circle of men across the room.

"Oh, I know those guys." he said as he swung his arms in an "aw shucks" kind of way and began to walk toward the other members of my band. I knew he did not, in fact, know them and so I did not follow him, but instead went on drinking my free PBR.

He didn't approach me again until I was walking from the bar to the stage. I hadn't been playing attention and the out-of-synch strumming and drumming, characteristic of any band's first moment on stage, alerted me to the fact that I was supposed to be there too.

Once we made eye contact before I reached the stage, I knew I had been intercepted. He began to speak, set on another conversation, but I interrupted.

"I have to get on stage now," I said with a smile. (One is always kind to people in bars when they're about to listen to one's music.)

"Okay, but I have one more thing for you after," he replied.

"Okay," I said, with another smile that he may or may not have seen before I turned my head away from him.

Hopping on stage, I wondered what this "one more thing" would be. And had there been other "things" that would make this new "thing" an addition?

I didn't have too much time to wonder. When I turned around to face the audience, there he was, standing inches from the stage, right in front of me. He was holding his right hand out, palm down, with his fingertips all touching - the way you would carry a dirty diaper. But there was no diaper, or anything else, hanging from his gathered fingers. He looked at me, expectantly, and continued to hold his hand toward me. I decided that there must be something very small in his hand that he was trying to give me.

Not wanting to be rude, I flattened my hand, palm up, and held it under his. He released his fingers and something fell onto my hand. I closed the gap between my face and hand to get a better look.

It was an eyebrow ring. At least, I assumed it was an eyebrow ring because he had a similar silver hoop through his eyebrow.

I was at once confused and disgusted to be holding something that was meant to be pushed through the face of an unsavory stranger. I smiled an anxious smile and said "thank you" as the chords of the first song began to play.

Sustaining the anxious smile, I tilted my still flat hand over the set list on the ground until the questionable object slid off and rested right in the middle of the sheet of paper.

We started to play, and I forgot for a minute what had just happened, but between the first two songs, and every song thereafter, I looked down to check the set list there it was, shiny and upsetting.

The man's behavior during the show was, considering the story until this point, not surprising. Erratic movements and exclamations as well as, I believe, at least some mild disrobing. (He wasn't drinking, but I heard afterward that he was seen taking some pills. That helps a little.)

When we were finished, he approached the stage, but this time, I decided to take a bit more control of the situation. I picked up the load-bearing set list and offered it to him.

"Do you want this back?" I asked, very seriously, looking at the ring.

"No, that's for you because your nose ring is so beautiful." he replied.

(I had switched my nose ring from a stud to a hoop right before the show, to be a little bit cooler. This was not cool.)

"It's okay, I have plenty." I said, bringing the piece of paper closer to him, and tilting it toward him. The ring began to slide and he caught it.

"Thanks, though." I said, my usual smile returning.

fellow synchrobloggers' posts:
Music Ascending
Hail, Music
sing on, michael bolton

the bad bag of cuties

2011-03-10T18:24:00.004-05:00

Satisfied with my selections, I approached the register.

When it came time for my orange mesh bag of clementines to be carefully waved over the scanner, the cashier paused, turning the bag over in her hand, the oranges tumbling awkwardly over each other as she did.

"This is a bad bag," she said. "You should go get another one."

In retrospect, and even at the time, it seems I should have just said "okay" and did as she said.

For some reason, indignation for the "cuties" (their brand name) rose within me and so instead of turning toward the produce section, I answered her with a question.

"Where?" I asked, kindly, but firmly.

She hesitated, surprised (a bit like I was), and once again began to turn the bag over in her hand, looking for some support for her bold claim. (I, for one, would not like to be called a "bad bag" for no good reason.)

After a few awkward seconds, she found an orange whose peel was orange and white, instead of just orange. She held it up for me to see.

I was not afraid of the white on the peel. And now I felt kind of sad for this group of oranges - they thought they were cuties, only to find out that they had somehow ended up in a bad bag.

"That's fine. I'll take them anyway." I said.

I've eaten them all now, and they were tasty. Not a bad fruit in the bag.

My synchroblogging friends' posts:

food

Fish Food

The Meat of the Hunt

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The Senior Scramble

2011-03-05T09:49:00.002-05:00

When I was a child, I was terrified of the dark. I'm pretty certain that this wasn't a unique characteristic I had among children. They even named a scary television show for children Are You Afraid of the Dark? because they knew the answer was ""yes, of course."

When I found myself in the dark, there were various ways of dealing with the situation. The Blanket Over the Head method had a high success rate. Sometimes talking or singing out loud was helpful. The only real cure for this particular type of fear, however, besides turning the lights on, of course, was to hear a familiar voice (that wasn't mine), or better yet, a physical confirmation that I was with a person in whom I had great trust. For instance, if I were afraid, in the dark, then felt the hands of one of my brothers on my shoulders (assuming they weren't trying to scare me deliberately, which may be a stretch), then the fear would leave as if it had never been. Even my little sister linking arms with me could melt my fear.

Again, I'm sure this is a childhood story that any one of us could tell. However, it's not really logical, is it? I mean, what was I afraid of in the first place? A monster? An ax murdered? An alien? Could my little sister really help defend me from any of these things? No. She could not. Why, then, did her presence take my fear away? Either I really did think that the small girl had some as of yet untapped power, or she distracted my thoughts from what might be lurking in the shadows.

Fast forward several years to college. Beginning with my freshman year, I watched a thing we called the "senior scramble." What this meant was, if you were a senior and single, you best scramble to find someone to marry before it was time to flip your tassel. (After all, there are no decent mates to be found outside of college - in case you didn't know.) I say I "watched," but what I really mean is that I mocked, judged, laughed, and rolled my eyes at the senior scramble. I didn't understand what people were so afraid of. So they would graduate single. They were only 22. Get over it.

Fast forward a few more years to my senior year of college. A veil is lifted and I get it. The senior scramble was not much different than my clinging to my little sister in the dark as a child, except for the scramblers, their future was the dark, and their spouse would be their little sister.

As adults, we don't fear the dark as much as we did, but a new fear has crept into the mix. It's not that different, really - a fear of the unknown. Then, we couldn't stand the thought of facing the beasts in our dark room alone. Now, we can't stand the thought of facing the beasts in our dark future alone. No light in the world can tell us what will happen, so we cling to someone to distract us from the fear, to make us feel safe.

I'm not saying this is a bad thing. In fact, I think it's one of the things that makes us human.

I do it. I'm still single, but hold fast to those I trust, while tiptoeing into the great unknown.

Fellow synchroblogger posts:
dark city
From Darkness, Light
Into The Darkness
How Are You? I Am Fine
further
synchroblogging in the dark

righteous frustration

2011-02-28T18:18:00.003-05:00

It's difficult to separate things that I love to do from the things that I do well; one of the things that I love is doing things well. I feel pretty swell with every pat on the back, kind of like a dog (what an upsetting analogy), but have I grown accustomed to this satisfaction as the best that there is? Have I forgotten what it's like to feel the thrill of achieving something that's truly important to me?

It's difficult to re-evaluate every day what it is that I want and then compare it to what I have and what I could conceivably have. It's utterly exhausting, but I think it's the only way. Righteous frustration with where I am and where I am not is the fuel that can propel me toward my actual best case scenario.

The question is: What is my actual best case scenario? Am I living it? If not, is it even achievable at this point in my life? And finally, if it is within my grasp, of what do I need to let go in order to reach it?

Guilt is not becoming.

2011-02-16T15:20:00.007-05:00

This post is the first post belonging to a synchroblogging project in which a small group of bloggers have agreed to write on the same topic regularly. (We don't really have any rules, so I believe I'm allowed to discuss the synchroblog within the synchroblog. If not, let the synchroblogods strike me now.)

Our first topic is guilt.

For days I sorted through possible post topics related to guilt - mostly stories I could tell, because stories are the best kinds of posts. There was a problem - I couldn't think of a story involving guilt that I really wanted to write about. Writing about something is kind of like agreeing to go on a date with it. Sure, the experience may not last long, but it could be quite uncomfortable.

I wasn't willing to go on a date with guilt.

I consider myself to be a very practical person. I'm not entirely sure whether or not others would agree. I can also be a very silly person, but don't believe these two things to be mutually exclusive. I define practical as being toward an intended end. I am silly toward the end of having joy and then gratitude. Therefore, my silliness is quite practical.

There are certain things that, when I set them next to my particular brand of practicality, I find impossible to embrace. One of these things is guilt. Guilt serves no practical purpose.

Remorse, sure, that's helpful. That's a feeling that can help me make a good decision next time, help me make things right. It works together with empathy and reconciliation, I think, to unite people, even in painful times. Guilt, on the other hand, only alienates people. It stops people from loving themselves and prevents them from building relationships. Unbound guilt could well be a death sentence to joy and any meaningful social interaction.

I don't have the statistics in front of me, but I would guess that guilt is number one killer of Christians, who, by definition, aspire to be godlike. It's like a diet, or anything else we try to stick to for our own good - once you start to stray, the guilt starts to eat you, and sooner or later, most people just fold completely to avoid it.

In an attempt to stay alive, I decided long ago that guilt was not for me. I wasn't made for it and it is not becoming.

And that is why I didn't want to go on a date with guilt. It makes me nervous.

Fellow synchroblogger posts:

passionately pensive

Word Shepherd

nightsbrightdays

I wish I could sing

2011-02-07T18:34:00.006-05:00

One of my earliest memories is of singing with my dad. He taught me to sing "I Will" by the Beatles. I stood by him, not quite his height, even as he sat at our keyboard. He pointed out my lyrics with one hand if I lost my way, while the other perpetuated the bass so the song could go on.

The song ends on a note that's both higher than the rest, and not quite intuitive. I had a hard time landing right on it. I was only 9 or so. Not wanting to disappoint my dad, who was so talented and happy to teach me, I recorded myself singing those last notes on my Talk Boy (made popular by Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone 2) and listened to it in bed, in the dark before I fell asleep. I tried to practice quietly, but more than once my late-night rehearsals would received the cease and desist order from one of my parents in the next room.

As I got older, and after many performances for family and church-members, I came to think of myself as quite the little singer. The enthusiasm that follows the performance of a small (er than average) blond girl known and loved by everyone in the room is often more than the performance warrants. I didn't know this.

It wasn't until my early teenage years that things began to change. My oldest brother, home from college, was telling me about how he'd picked up the bass and wanted to start a band. I asked if I could sing in the band. He told me that they would need someone with a more mature voice. I shrugged. I was young then. When I was older, of course, he's change his tune.

Then began a painful tradition. I began to sing with the family band. Every time I sang, though, my very supportive and well-intentioned mother would motion for me to bring the microphone closer to my face. Then, she would gesture to anyone near the PA head to turn my microphone up. After the song was done, she'd approach the stage and explain that no one could hear me. Someone would explain to her that I was turned up as high as could be. The next song would start and she would look at me with her eyes wide and her mouth open - exaggerated facial expressions that meant I should sing louder.

I couldn't sing any louder.

My mother wasn't the only one, either. There were other perplexed faces - furrowed brows of those trying to make out what it was that my mouth was doing behind the microphone. Apparently, as you grow older, as a singer, different things are expected of you, like a louder, stronger voice. I don't know where mine was, but no one seemed to believe that I wasn't hiding it. Why would I hide it? If a louder voice would stop the wide eyes that meant I was doing something wrong, I would have given anything for it.

By the time I went to high school, I had accepted that I really wasn't very good at singing after all. It was difficult to accept because I loved it so much. I may have stopped altogether - I certainly wanted to at times - if music weren't so inescapable in the DeConto household. We had a band. We were called upon at most family gatherings to perform.

This sounds like a sad story, but as I think about it, it was ultimately kind of liberating. To do something that you love to do with the belief that you're not in any way exceptional kind of frees you to enjoy it in a different way.

Like I said, I never really stopped singing. When I went off to college, I began to sing more. I learned to play the guitar. The family band started up again a couple of years later and I entered it with a different, more casual attitude. Funny thing, though, the more I sang and the more I performed, the better I became. Now, I think I love it more than ever, and have reclaimed it as an important part of who I am.

The downside of having experienced those years of resignation is that I may never really believe that I'm in any way exceptional (though it's so much fun for me now, I really don't care if I am or not). The upside, which, believe it or not, I find more valuable than the ability to think I'm awesome, is that I have come to attribute any success I have to confidence and experience, which are things in which anyone can invest. Now, when people say to me "I wish I could sing," I can say back to them, without hesitation, "You probably can."

anxiety doesn't make me a better person

2011-01-24T18:47:00.003-05:00

A quick glance to the sidebar here (if you're reading on blogger, that is) will tell you that I haven't written in months. I've been feeling strangely inadequate lately, specifically in the area of writing. I'm not sure why that has stopped me from posting here. We all know that blogging is not something reserved for the writing elite. No one required a writing sample when I logged into blogger for the first time. What, then, is the issue?

Today, the madness needed to stop. I still feel nervous and so have begun by discussing the thing closest to the tips of my fingers - this curious writing block.

At the risk of making connections where there are none, I offer (to myself) a shrugging explanation.

I have lately been reflecting on this small world I set about putting together almost three years ago. (No, I don't mean that I created the world three years ago.) I have pieced together, with jobs and people and churches and homes, a rather full life for my graduated self and it is now beginning to feel something like complete. Without the distraction of certain difficulties that have been overcome, my worry, forced out, spills into new arenas.

And these new arenas are filled with questions relating to the role I have played in the small worlds of others, while building my own. I've spent the past few years decided who I am and trying to discover who some other people are, with some career and home-building filling in the gaps. Now, the questions, which are not not new, begin to rise into a place to be disregarded with more difficulty. What impact have I made? How are these people and places different for having known me? I've spent time writing here about the fingerprints left on me, and lately I've been wondering about my own fingerprints. Where are they? Did I mean to leave them there? Do they appear as I expected? Can anyone see them? This, I believe, is why I have hesitated to write. Perhaps, in looking for my life's consequences, I have put considerable pressure on myself to write regarding things of consequence.

The more I write about this, the more I am deciding that it is fruitless to do so. I can't imagine that Mother Theresa spent much time worrying about what impact she was having. (She certainly didn't blog about it.) No, she just did what she saw in front of her to do without vanity or much self-consideration.

So, there we have it. I can't change my impact by thinking about it and so, there should be less whine-ging (whine-blogging) and more doing of things, or at least the same amount of doing of things. Moving forward with confidence that, truly, all I can do is what I can do, and anxiety doesn't make me a better person.

Thomas Merton and tequila

2010-11-17T00:30:00.004-05:00

I have decided to start writing with capital letters because I recently had a conversation with an excellent fellow blogger and friend (http://wordshepherd.com/) that brought to light how seriously I do not take my blog entries. That might not be fair to say. I do take them seriously, but I try not to put too much pressure on myself, or else I wont post anything. The more I believe a post needs to be perfect, the less likely I am to sit down and write it. So, I try to have a somewhat careless approach. Also, I would be lying if I didn't admit that, along with the increased frequency of posting, the careless approach also helps me to avoid disappointment when a piece is not met with the enthusiasm that I had envisioned for it. Avoid a little, anyway.

My new offering to the serious blogging world is capital letters. That, and I am going to try to post more often than I do. It's good for me.

I feel better already.

Tonight, I'd like to speak to you about my life in terms of a Venn diagram.

Throughout my life, I've had the privilege of building relationships with a great variety of people. This was almost entirely due to my constantly changing educational environment: Christian, secular, private, public, boarding, tiny, big, at home, and abroad are all words that describe my education at one time or another. I don't regret this. If you ever see my mother, tell her that I said this. I think she is afraid that I hold some grudge about having been to 8 different schools before high school. I don't. It was, for the most part, fun. If being the new kid is an art, then in my prime, I was Botticelli. Except, without the naked women. That would have been inappropriate. I became pretty good at reading people, discerning what they wanted, what they valued, interpreting reactions, etc. (These skills would later serve me well in customer service-type jobs.)

What does all of this have to do with a Venn diagram? Well, because I learned how to make the outsider-insider transition at an early age, and with all sorts of circles, I have always found myself drawn to different groups at once, able to see the merit of multiple social codes/sets of values. And right along with these many people have come ideas and interests, as varied and conflicting as the people by whom they are presented. Be it over tequila shots or a Thomas Merton piece, I have found stimulation and growth in expected and unexpected places. For the most part, this is great. I find myself with many friends and even more acquaintances.

And now you're asking yourself "Well then, what's the problem?" Of course there's a problem, or I wouldn't be writing about this. And, further more, I have yet to explain the Venn diagram connection, even though I began this last paragraph in a way that would lead one to believe that an explanation was coming. (In my defense, I thought it was.)

Here it is: I feel like the section in the middle - the oddly-shaped piece that is shared by both circles. This piece represents the common ground. That's all well and good, but what identity does that piece have beyond the fact that it holds the common elements? It has nothing of it's own, and it doesn't really belong wholly to either circle. If it went to a party in one circle, it would belong, sure, but would always stick out at least a little bit.

Like Popeye said, I am who I yam, and I don't want to change it. But, those little pieces of me that don't fit, wherever I am, the ones that always want to be somewhere else, the ones that can make dating and building strong friendships hard, the ones that I'm certain other people always notice, they sometimes make me melancholy.

playing baseball using the rules for chess

2010-11-10T23:36:00.003-05:00

one of the most valuable pieces of insight that has ever been given to me was offered by, adorably enough, my mother. i was in high school and our family was experiencing some *ahem* relational turbulence. it was very painful. what she told me was that it was okay not to know what to say, how to feel, or what to do, because the situation in which we found ourselves was one that we were never intended to face. we weren't built to hurt one another.

since then, this pearl has continued to find it's way into my thinking and even, on occasion, out of my mouth for someone else.

i think that it's easy for people who follow a particular teaching or set of teachings to get very caught up in applying principles to situations inappropriately. and then, it's kind of like trying to play baseball using the rules for chess. it just doesn't work.

for example, many people believe that abortion is wrong, and so they blow up abortion clinics and kill doctors who perform them. woah. i don't know about you, but i'm having a hard time finding the connection between abortion being wrong and destruction and murder being right. the passion for one cause grows so large that it spills over, clouding judgement.

i will now introduce the "what now?" concept. let's say you find yourself in a situation that you don't believe you were designed to handle. there's no passage in the Bible that begins: "when your spouse leaves you..." what now? well, in the Bible, along with all of the verses about premarital sex, there are other instructions: love. grace. compassion. forgiveness. justice. it's okay to not know how to respond to situations that are upsetting, but when in doubt, apply these principles and you can't go wrong.

like a married dude at a night club

2010-10-17T18:38:00.003-04:00

i went to church twice today. that's right. twice in one day. no need to tell me you're impressed. i already know.

even though i was at church last week, for some reason it felt like a long time away. the feeling i get when i go to church for the first time in a little while is kind of like the feeling i used to get in college when i pulled up to my parents' house, or entered the city of manchester. it's a feeling of homecoming, a feeling of familiarity, the absence of needing to prove myself or explain myself. it doesn't have to be dramatic, but it certainly is pleasant.

it was while singing a song tonight that an interesting analogy popped into my head. (i like those.) the refrain of the song spoke of freedom. now, here i am, feeling all homey and singing about freedom, when my mind drifts to a night club. don't ask me, i'm often just a spectator in my own head. i began to think about how my being in my own life, is like a married dude at a night club.

the married dude is at this night club, and he may be very participative - having a few drinks and doing the robot, but his goal is largely different than that of most other men there. other men may be anxious about trying to meet someone to date, or even just take home, but the married dude is free to just take everything in and enjoy himself, knowing that he has already found a permanent version of what everyone else is looking for. as the night wears on, the other men may become more anxious about leaving alone (as some of you women may have noticed, men are much more bold as closing time approaches...), but our married dude is as loose as a goose.

this is how i feel. i live my life. i love my life. i participate in the world around me. however, i have no cause for anxiety, because i've found what so many others spend their whole lives looking for: purpose, and the confidence that comes with being unconditionally loved by the One who created me carefully.

happy sabbath.

i'm getting old

2010-10-05T22:59:00.003-04:00

i've been too busy for, well, my entire adult life. not until now, however, have i ever wanted something different. i liked the lack of sleep, the schedule conflicts, the money-spending. slowly, over the past few months, i've been seriously valuing more my still and quiet time. i mean actually valuing - not just talking about it so that other people can see how ridiculously busy i am.

so, it's official. i'm getting old.

i'm considering only having one job (not to say that my second job is taking up a whole lot of time these days). this doesn't completely tie into my last point, because it would mostly be to make time for other, more creative ventures.

i've been promoted at my "real" job. i like it. i'm a "production coordinator." i feel like an appreciated employee for, perhaps, the first time with this particular company, which is really invaluable. i'm contributing more to the production process, learning more things. all of this is good. presently, though, my job is largely trafficking files and working in maddening computer programs (i wont bore you, or myself, with the details), which is not fun, but i think it wont last and hopefully that change will come sooner, rather than later.

my eldest brother, jesse, is getting married this weekend. i'm pretty excited for so many reasons. my new sister-in-law is a peach. her love for jesse and his daughters has brought tears to my eyes. the whole thing just glows with a hope and redemption that doesn't show up in life enough.

i had the carpets cleaned at my house yesterday. they look great. i am brought back in my mind to our honeymoon days, my house and mine. my friends were all circling wedding dates on their calendars and i was circling a closing date. i couldn't be happier with my decision (or theirs). i can't wait to show off my dear home to my family for the first time this weekend. we must find her something nice to wear.

my foot is still broken. it's pretty much at the same hurty-level as it's ever been. i can't really shift blame, here, except to my stubborn foot, but that would be counter-productive, would it not? i can say with certainty that practicing the moon-walk does not sit well with the lateral sesamoid.

i think i'll go to sleep now. as i said, i'm getting old.

business time

2010-09-15T23:15:00.002-04:00

i've mentioned this before - it's been a real treat for me, over the past couple of years, to begin to really connect with people outside of the church. i've learned many things about what we have in common that have affirmed in my mind that all of us are made in the image of God. how beautiful.

now, every once in a while, a particular topic arises and seeing eye-to-eye becomes slightly more difficult. one of these topics is sex. sure, i get teased from time to time about my life-choices in this area, but for the most part, people just avoid the topic altogether.

in my experience, people avoid topics that they assume will cause the people involved to have to pick one side of an enormous conversation-chasm, over which no bridge can ever be built (think religion, politics). i assume this is why no one wants to talk to me about sex - they think that, because i'm a christian, we'll have nothing to say to one another that will resonate. that, or they think it will make me uncomfortable. it usually doesn't. i am an adult after all, and have seen a few R-rated movies.

i've decided that the chasm-fearing among us expect the conversation to go something like this:

chasm-fearing: hey katie, what's the big deal about people having sex before they're married?

me: what's the big deal? what's the big deal?! haven't you read the Bible? [scowl]

chasm-fearing: ...

[awkward silence as chasm-sides are chosen]

i hope that i'm never in the same building as that conversation. i got the chills just typing it.

sure, the Bible has a lot to say about sexy things. i googled the most popular parts of the Bible that talk about sex. most of the "don't do that" texts refer to "sexual immorality." when i noticed this, i thought to myself: "what, exactly, is sexually immorality?" immorality is defines as the quality of not being in accord with standards of right or good conduct. that's the opposite of helpful and specific. so, sexual immorality is sex that is not in accord with standards of right or good conduct. what standards? whose standards?

no. the people who wrote the Bible were not trying to be frustrating, nor is God trying to confuse us. rather, i think, anyway, this is when we need to remember that every part of the Bible was written by a person in a language to an audience in a cultural setting. i'm sure "sexual immorality" made perfect sense to those who heard it then (in their language, of course). but, what about those hearing it now?

for instance, sex was a much economically-significant when the Bible was written. women, with their dowries and such, were bought and sold, in a way, into marriage. part of their worth was their sexual purity, so if they had sex before they were married, or committed adultery once they were married, they were stealing, in a way, by detracting from their value. this is just one thing to consider when reading ancient texts about sex and marriage.

see, sex is tricky, though, because it's not like getting tattoos or eating pork. it can have real, soul-altering consequences. people are conceived, diseases are transmitted, intentions are misconstrued, lust clouds vision, deep connections are made (and than severed?), hearts are broken, self-worth is altered. all of this makes drawing the lines around "sexual immorality" a bit impossible. we know what's in the middle: rapists, pedophiles, and the like. [scowl] but we don't know what lies around the edges.

so, in order to discern any truth, we want to read these bits of the Bible in the context of the whole gospel story - a story of love, acceptance, grace, self-sacrifice, and reconciliation (all good things, right?). where does sex fit into all of that?

sure, i could try to build an argument here for not having pre-marital sex based solely on trying to protect myself and others from the heart-ache and general life-ache that can be brought about by people with even the best intentions. but, i think that at least some of you would say "katie, that's silly. all you have to do is be smart about it and you'll be fine. plus, the good usually outweighs the bad. wink. wink." and you would have an excellent point. maybe it is possible to have sex outside of marriage without stumbling into "sexual immorality," if only you are smart and mindful about it. maybe sex between two consenting adults in a committed relationship is all that God asks in this day and age. i will allow for that possibility.

allow me, then, to proffer my biggest reason for seeing sex as part of marriage in my life:

marriage is hard. fidelity (not just sexual) is hard. relationships are hard. through observing the relationships around me, i have learned this. i have also built a stronger resolve to have the best marriage in town. i want it to be life-giving. i want it to thrive like my basil plant. i want it so bad that i'm working on it even now, even though i don't even know if it will ever happen, or with whom it will be. i want my faithfulness to start now. i want to offer myself as a healthy, whole person. well, as much as i can, anyway. i don't want to place a U-Haul full of baggage at my betrothed's feet. maybe just a few suitcases. (plus, i think it would be neat (God-ordained, even) to only share that kind of vulnerable, spiritual connection with one person. call me sentimental.)

for me, this view of sex fits into the gospel. it's Biblical. it's practical. it protects me and those around me. it's loving. it encourages fidelity and intentionality in my life. it's for me and i think it makes sense.

so there. if you've read this, it's like we had the conversation. hopefully there was no chasm, and hopefully i've convinced you that sometimes there's something in the "because the Bible said so" answers even for those who could care less about the Bible.

religion box blank

2010-08-22T23:00:00.003-04:00

i could be watching veronica mars right now. i think i would rather be. but, the anxiety that grows within be as every day passes between blog posts has become too much to bear. therefore, i will put aside veronica, for this evening, at least.

i had a conversation with someone recently about, statistically, how many christians there are in america. i really don't remember the particulars of the conversation, but i do remember becoming irritated.

most people in this country, according to statistics, identify themselves as christians. i'm not really one for drawing lines between "real" christians and "fake" christians. if such things exist, i certainly hope it's not my job to make the distinction.

what does bother me, however, is how religion is identified with almost like a nationality - something we just are, by no choice of our own. christianity is an intentional journey. it bothers me when people claim it only because they don't want to leave the religion box blank.

if i called myself a painter, simply because my parents were painters, i would not be taken seriously. if i called myself a painter because i found the art form interesting, i would not be taken seriously. if i called myself a painter because, even though i wasn't really into art, if i were, it would be painting, i would not be taken seriously. why, then, when people give these reasons for calling themselves christians, is it often taken seriously?

i can only imagine that i'm not the only person who feels this way about their faith. any time that a person claims to be something that comes at a cost they haven't paid (for instance, learning to paint), someone will probably be slightly irritated, at least. i'm not really talking about seekers, or people unsure, but taking steps to find truth. i'm talking about people who have no interest in incorporating the spiritual into their everyday lives, but enjoy the christian label for it's let's-fit-in benefits. we're not supposed to fit in.

i'm not sure about how much i have sounded like a brat, whining about something that's not really important, but i urge you to let me know.

my foot is broken, my heart is whole

2010-07-12T23:14:00.003-04:00

as it turns out, wearing stilettos and flip flops for several hours over the last weekend, and then working both jobs on my first day back, does not have any sort of healing effect on my broken sesamoid bone. sigh. my foot hurts. i haven't blogged in a little while, and what finally motivated me to do so was my hurting foot. that seems silly.

despite my complaining, which, believe me, is as irritating to me as to anyone, i had a really wonderful weekend in baltimore. i say weekend, but i left right after work on wednesday and didn't return until late last night. i went for a wedding and went early to help with weddingy things and to spend time with my dear friends and college roommates. there were four of us and as of saturday at about 4:30pm, i am the only unmarried one left. i'm very happy for all of them. i'm genuinely happy that each of them have found wonderful men who love them. at each wedding, my eyes teared as i watched my beautiful friend walk in white down the aisle. i can't really pretend, though, that everyone of the tears came from joy. for every few joyful tears, there was one, a small one, that was the only external evidence of a small part inside of me that was mourning. for every dear friend that gets married, i seem to feel less and less understood by the world.

i think that sounds strange, but i can't really think of another way to say it. oh wait, i just thought of an analogy. (who's surprised?) it's like when someone moves away. you're still friends, best friends, even. but, they can't really understand your life because theirs is so different, even though it was once the same. we both are growing and moving, but where we were once growing and moving in the same direction, we've now separated slightly. the distance between and the rate at which it grows depends on many things: how close you were to begin with, how many things you still have in common, etc.

i still love all of my married friends dearly, value our relationships greatly, am inspired by them and learn a lot by watching them; things that i know will come in handy one day. but, that doesn't really stop me from sometimes wishing that we were all young, single professionals, living in the same place, sharing the same joys and fighting the same fights. i sometimes even wish we were still in college. eh, maybe not really. i think i would just like to re-live some of our fondest memories. that would be nice.

all of this brings me to my next topic: singleness. i've decided that singleness is a skill and, like other skills, some people are naturally good at it, some have to work at it, some never even try it, and others, though they are forced to practice it, have such a bad attitude that they never really reap its benefits - like a little kid who's mother forces him to take piano lessons, but who hates it so much that he never improves.

i will be honest and say that i'm pretty great at it - singleness, that is, though i did take piano lessons. i don't know if it's a natural thing, or if it's only because i've had so much practice that i am such an expert, but now it is merely second-nature. it does seem, however, that for people who have not had as much practice as i, that singleness can be pretty tough, or even impossible to get the hang of. for some, this means that they're perpetually in relationships, which is fine, as long as they're healthy and functional, of course. i used to think/hear that it was important to be comfortable on your own before you can be comfortable in a relationship. while this might be "ideal," and probably good advice for teenagers, it no longer seems practical for adults. then again, i'm an expert at being single, not at being a serial-adult-dater, so i could be wrong.

the ones that i really feel bad for are those who despise singleness, but can't seem to get into a relationship. this seems to always end in a kind of irritating misery (like the little kid, sitting at the piano, not picturing an egg under each of his poised hands, but picturing an egg on the head of his teacher). i don't really have any sort of advice for these people, except "be happier; you can have lots of fun on your own and with other people that you love, or at least like," but i have my doubts that that's helpful. in my experience, nothing soothes the lonely heart other than companionship.

ice cream might work, too. not that i've tried that.

in the end, i never want to look back on a time in my life and wish that i would have appreciated it more. (after all, no one ever says "i wish i would have gotten married younger," right?) therefore, i try to appreciate every season that comes my way. singleness has been pretty good to me, and i think that our break-up might be a tough one, but i'm certainly willing to see (other) people if and when the occasion calls for it. ; )

this could be heaven or this could be hell

2010-06-20T21:28:00.002-04:00

hotel california is one of my favorite songs to cover. i think it's because it's so angsty. one of my favorite lines is the title that i've given this post. it's appropriate to this post because i want to talk about heaven and hell in a way that is very different from the way that i ever thought about them before the age of 21. many of you may shut down now, or may have not even read this far because the idea of a heaven and a hell is just so silly. well, maybe you'll think this is less silly. seriously, i'd like your thoughts, if you would be so kind.

in college, i wrote a paper about heaven and hell after reading some sermons by N.T. Wright, a brilliant new testament theologian. i've posted it below. i know that it's long, and that i should probably re-write it in a less academic, and more succinct way, but i probably wont, and i think the ideas are worth talking about, so here it is:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kaitlyn DeConto

Dr. Kenneson

3 December, 2006

Introduction to Christian Theology

It has become clear to me, as of late, that my own beliefs regarding heaven, hell and related topics have been heavily shaped and influenced by extra-biblical ideas. The church of modernity, myself included, and even those outside of the church, have allowed imagination to supersede scripture. The most dangerous part is that we seem to be generally unaware that this replacement is occurring. As a consequence of coming to this realization, I have become responsible for exploring what, exactly, the Bible does, and almost more importantly, does not say about these issues. Truth in this area is essential because, besides the fact that to be more enlightened about my own faith is to be a more effective and useful member of the kingdom, what I find should influence the way I live my life.

In his three sermons, N.T. Wright presents a great deal of insight dealing with heaven, hell and the new life of believers after death. Some of these ideas he presents as those he has adopted himself, others he presents as noteworthy, but not necessarily found by him to be imperative. Though I do not agree with everything Wright has to say in these sermons, they have been very helpful in moving my mind away from the ever-debilitating “Sunday School box.” What I mean is that, by presenting me with ideas that differ greatly from my own, he has challenged me to either defend or abandon the assumptions that I have sustained since childhood.

Wright firsts engages the idea of hell. Of all his points, the one I found most helpful was that, contrary to what I had thought, a clear concept of hell is not delineated within scripture. He writes that “most of the passages in the New Testament which have been thought by the Church to refer to people going into eternal punishment after they die don’t in fact refer to any such thing” (92 Wright). After reading this, I decided to consult my NOAB. In the index, under “hell” I found only two entries: Mark 9:43 and Luke 12:18. Upon reading both of these passages, I soon learned, through footnotes, that in both cases, the word “hell” was actually referring to a place called Gehenna, which is a deep ravine just south of Jerusalem. This place had been the site of many human sacrifices and had come to represent eternal punishment by fire. Though this discovery was not altogether shocking, it was interesting to find that, when the word “hell” was used in the Bible, it was not in reference to the specific place of eternal damnation of which I had always heard. Rather, it was being used as a culturally significant metaphor.

It is true that there are other instances in scripture where, though the word “hell” is not used, the subject matter seems to be pointing to a certain judgment inflicted upon those who refuse repentance. Wright explains that, similarly, many of these do not refer to eternal damnation of souls after death, but rather, an earthly punishment for those nations that act in defiance of the sovereignty of God; a sort of “marriage” of hell and earth. In Wright’s words, “Horrific judgment – this-worldly judgment, the devastation of cities and the tearing apart of nations – will follow the decision to go on worshipping other gods” (94 Wright). This idea provokes a much different perspective. Not only is hell not necessarily a physical, fiery place “below” us, but it can also be tasted here on earth.

One idea Wright presents, and then rejects, is that, by continually disregarding the will of God, humans can, in effect, de-humanize themselves. Those who are “unsaved” are then, at the time of death, no longer human and therefore lose the immortality of the soul. This idea, as explained by Wright, is called the “‘conditional immortality’, that is, the granting of immortality only to those who are saved, and the annihilation of those who are not saved” (95 Wright). Even though Wright states that he does not believe this, it is still an interesting thought and, I believe, a noble attempt to harmonize the justice and grace and God.

While trying to determine how these ideas compare with the doctrines concerning hell that I have been familiar with, I realized that, perhaps because of the limited information that is available, this topic had often been glossed over and the only ideas that I had to begin with are as follows: eternal, painful separation from God. The physicality of the place was blurred, leaving me with a vague notion full of holes that have been, subconsciously, filled by Dante. Therefore, the greatest help provided for me by Wright through this sermon was not necessarily a description of what hell is, but what hell is not necessarily.

Wright’s discussion of the reality of heaven was equally enlightening. Perhaps one of the most important things that this particular sermon accomplished was to name the popular idea of heaven oppressive and incorrect. The author writes that “[the traditional] idea of ‘heaven’ has been used to back up exploitation on the one hand and dry-as-dust moralism on the other: because this strange distant place exists, and because you might want to go there yourself some day, you’d better behave nicely here – which often means, you’d better sit down, shut up, and don’t be a nuisance” (99 Wright). Though I have often felt uneasy about the “reward for being good” attitude toward heaven that seems to be ubiquitous in western culture, I would never have had the (what I would have considered to be) audacity to deem it oppressive, for fear of being heretical. Fortunately, Wright helped to free me from this train of thought so that I might explore what, exactly, the Bible does have to say about heaven.

What does the Bible have to say about heaven? To answer this question, I, again, consulted my NOAB. Surprisingly, I found not one instance in which the word ‘heaven’ was used alone. In almost every case, the phrase that is used is the ‘kingdom of heaven’ or the ‘kingdom of God.’ In Matthew 13, Jesus uses several parables to help his disciples understand the kingdom. Not one of these parables paint a picture that looks anything like the heaven I have thought to be true. Rather, each of the stories explain an idea that sounds more that the ideas presented by Wright. These ideas depict heaven, not as an other-worldly place, far, far away, but rather, another dimension of this world. Wright explains that “[heaven] is all around us, glimpsed in a mystery in every Eucharist and every act of generous human love” (100 Wright).

There are, at least, two reasons that my idea of heaven is vital to the way that I live my life. First, if heaven is somewhere distant, then that would force the conclusion that Jesus is somewhere distant. Secondly, if heaven is, indeed, a place that is all around us, begging to be sought, then my duty is no longer to keep my ‘admit one’ ticket to heaven, but rather it is to work everyday to see it realized here on earth. Consequently, my responsibility shifts from being only to myself, to incorporating my community here on earth. It is a call to live counter-culturally in a world that is driven by a quest for power, as Christ did, so that the kingdom might be spurred, as it was through the life and death of Jesus. Wright writes that “over against the love of power, the ascension of Jesus sets the power of love” (103 Wright).

This new definition of heaven raises a new question: if heaven is something that can be seen on earth during life, then what happens to believers when they die? My previous thoughts on this subject did not exceed closing my eyes on earth and opening them in heaven, where I would live forever praising God with my new and perfect, though not tangible body. I had heard something about the dead raising from their graves, but I did not know enough, nor did I apparently care enough, to fit these ideas into my pleasingly simple chronology of the afterlife. In retrospect, the biggest problem I see with this view is that it completely disregards creation and everything physical. I often forget that God did make all of creation physical and tangible. Not only did He make it this way, but said that it is good. Considering this, it becomes more difficult to believe that nothing physical would be involved in the afterlife.

In light of this, I am increasingly led to believe that the fulfillment of heaven, much like the glimpses of heaven we now experience, will be a physical experience. Wright writes that “if what you hope for is the renewal of this world, rather than the abandonment on this world, then resurrection follows naturally” (109 Wright). Paul wrote to the Corinthians with this same message. I Corinthians 15:52a-54: “For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on the imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” Therefore, just like heaven is something to be experience during and after life, human physicality is something to be experienced, and even fulfilled after death. Wright explains that “our humanness is precious; God takes it so seriously that he has promised to bring it out, as it were, in a new edition” (114 Wright).

I have found many of Wright’s insights very helpful in my own theological journey. Though my research was by no means exhaustive, I have also found those of his ideas I chose to discuss to resonate with scripture very well, which is imperative to any theological thought, new or old. As in many other areas of theology, the discussion of the end times is not an easy one. There are no clear answers that can define for us what exactly happens when an individual life ends, the world ends, or even when humans engage the supernatural here on earth. Even though our scriptural sources of information are limited, it seems that the greatest danger when in an eschatological dialogue is not that we might not possess truth, thought it is important to be educated, but rather that we might assume that we do possess truth, therefore closing the dialogue and preventing our own education. Considering this, I am grateful that, through this assignment, my mind has been opened to future discussions that may aid my own pursuit of truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I liked reading this again after so long. I liked thinking of myself as more of an academic, learned, smarty-pants-type person than I am right now. It also makes me miss school and learning things. In keeping with my personality, however, I also like being out of school as a young professional, with a bit more freedom. The grass is always greener, I suppose.

be a better world shopper

2010-06-17T09:48:00.002-04:00

i have several, what i like to call, "blog life phases." right now, i'm in the "blog life phase" where i have a handful of not-fully-formed ideas floating around in my head, each with the potential of becoming a perfect post. the problem is that it takes time and energy to develop and type these perfect posts, time and energy that i'm being a bit selfish with, at the moment. actually, selfish isn't even really the right word because writing here helps me more than anyone, i'm convinced, so it's not really selfishness as much as masochism.

in any case, i took a step in the right direction this morning by creating titles for each of the perfect posts and saving them here (only i can see them until i click "publish") so that i will not forget them, and maybe, just maybe, i'll find it within myself to write them all in the near future.

by now, i'm sure you're pretty confused as to how the title of this blog is appropriate. you may have even decided that it's not. shame on you. no faith. everything i've written here so far is more of a parenthetical thought, or an FYI. the real post starts . . . right . . . now!

money is power. this, we know. so, whether you have a little bit of money or a lot, you still have some amount of power. don't fool yourself - even if you have very little money, how you use it is important. it's like a vote. sure, one vote may not matter, but if everyone acted according to that thought, then no one would vote, and then an election, which is supposed to interpret the wants of the majority, would be completely ineffective.

and in this money-spending vote, you don't have the option to abstain. i suppose it is possible to not buy anything, but for most of us, it's not considered a choice. so, we vote. we're always voting, every day we vote. every time we hand someone our credit/debit card or dollah dollah billz, we're voting in favor of that establishment.

this is beautiful and terrifying. why? the same reason that allowing every person in the country to help pick a president is beautiful and terrifying: equality is great, but it comes with a huge amount of trust, that the people with the power are going to use it responsibly. the problem arises when the trusted, powerful people don't educate themselves so that they can make an informed decision.

let's not be that person. if i'm going to vote in favor of a gas station, a grocery store, or a shampoo brand, i should probably know a little bit about it first. i wouldn't give my vote to a presidential candidate only because i thought they looked nice and so i shouldn't shop at a clothing store only because i like there clothes.

as globalization continues, large corporations gain more and more power - power we help give them, every time we buy their product. if they're not using that power responsibly, it's our duty to withdraw our support. it's the only way. but, like the presidential election, one vote doesn't matter unless it's accompanied by the majority, so let's educate ourselves and spread the word.

buying local is usually the best choice, but not always possible or practical.

of course, if i want to know about Wal-Mart's social and environmental practices, i can't really just go to their website and click on the link that says "why we're evil," i have to dig a little deeper than that. it's kind of an overwhelming and daunting task - researching every company we buy from. i completely understand this.

there are, however, some sites that make it easier for us. this is one:
http://www.betterworldshopper.com/rankings.html

that site is great place to start. i feel kind of silly writing all of this, because i'm by no means the greatest example of responsible money-voting, but i am finding it more and more important, and so appreciate resources that make it easier, like this site.

if you know of any other helpful resources, please post them for all of us aspiring responsible citizens.

happy shopping!

from the horse's mouth, sort of

2010-05-28T02:21:00.002-04:00

a little over a month ago, i was invited to be a part of a team that would travel to haiti to do a bit of volunteer work. to my sadness and frustration, i was not able to use my vacation days for this purpose. i don't want to talk about it, but i will say that if you know/hear of any great jobs, let me know.

though i wasn't able to travel to haiti, members of my family were. one of these was alisha, my cousin-in-law. upon returning, she wrote an email to all of those of us back here who were supporting the trip in thoughts and prayer, if not in physical presence. she added a story at the end of her email that i particularly appreciated, so here it is:

One afternoon our translator Enel took Aisha and me into town, and as we walked around we came upon a medium sized church vibrating with sound. As we approached, we saw that even though it was mid-day, the courtyard was filled with people. We made our way to the back of the church and saw that it too was full of people standing shoulder to shoulder, worshiping God and praying. But it was not only after the earthquake that Haiti hosted lovers of God. I'm told that during the month of December, the young people of the orphanage spent hours every night, on their own initiative, worshipping Christ and thanking him for his sacrifice. God allowed this earthquake, but not because Haiti lacks his lovers, anymore than Job's troubles were caused by his lack of love for God.

that's all. i just thought it was worth sharing. i made alisha's name above a link to her blog, so if you'd like to read more or contact her, have at it.

that was just a dream some of us had

2010-05-20T23:25:00.002-04:00

i'm sorry if the title of this post is misleading. it maybe made something inside you jump at thoughts of an interesting dream, a telling hope, or an inspirational story. this is none of that. it's actually just an update about me. i haven't written one in a while, and, assuming that not everyone who reads this works in my office (though i'm very grateful to those who do), i thought that maybe someone might care about what's going on in my life, i know i do.

what does that have to do with the title? well, first, i have already used at least one variation of "update" and "things" and any other more appropriate title, in the titles of past updates. therefore, i was forced to come up with something a bit more creative. second, i'm going to california tomorrow morning, and, as that is the case, i started thinking about different songs that i like that talk about california. mostly, i just inserted "california" for "carolina" in "i'm going to carolina in my mind," but when i realized my mistake, i turned to joni mitchell. of course. i love her, if you didn't know that. her blue album, i would say, is one of my favorite albums ever. she has a song called "california" and in it, she sings:

sitting in a park in paris, france,
reading the news, and it sure looks bad.
they wont give peace a chance,
that was just a dream some of us had.
**disclaimer - that might not be a perfect quote because it came out of my head, and not off of lyricsaz.com.

now you see - i stole a line for my title.

okay, on to the real things. i'm going to use a bulleted list, because that's fun.

i'm going to california tomorrow. actually, my flight leaves in less than 8 hours. it was a last minute sort of thing. my lovely aunt lori and uncle steve own a vineyard in northern california, and are commissioning my father and me to play some music there during a wine festival this saturday. my dad is staying all week and, i think, will be playing more music next saturday at my cousin's graduation party (yay for sara!!). i would have loved to stay, too, but couldn't take that much time off of work, and have a wedding in d.c. to attend on the following sunday. nevertheless, i am pretty ecstatic to be spending the weekend in wine country with my delightful family, even though i have to come back on monday.
as of june 1st, all of my tenants will be out of my house. steven is already gone. he bought a house about 2 blocks up the street from me (yay steven!!) and katie and suzanne will be spending the summer in costa rica (yay katie and suzanne!!). june and july will bring sub-letters, dancers in town for the american dance festival. august will bring the return of katie and suzanne, and the permanent replacement for steven. she came to visit this week and, though it was a short visit, it was a lot of fun and i'm convinced that there will be many more good times to be had, come august.
my foot is broken. i, perhaps, should have started with this one, since it's been the case for a while now. my foot had been hurting since, well i'm not really sure when. i'd like to say the late fall/early winter. i finally went to the doctor about a month ago, and they told me it was broken. that would explain all of the pain every time in engaged stilettos or the warrior pose. i have to wear a dumb boot now, and it's really becoming such a nuisance that i fear i may have forgotten about every other nuisance in my life. they all pale in comparison to this nuisance. ahg. i have given up the gym, even though i'm sure there's lots i could do, simply because i'm angry about being limited by a tiny, fractured bone in my foot. i can't wait tables, which has made me kind of poor - another nuisance, that really just adds to the annoyance of the primary nuisance.
i'm thinking i will audition for american idol this summer. the cities/dates haven't been announced yet, but i would like to say that i tried.
my job - bleh. i still feel generally un-valued (not even really undervalued, just un-valued) by the owners of the company, and then, sort of by default, by my direct management. it could be worse. i've taken on a very different sort of role (in addition to my other roles) in the textbook-publishing process that is proving to be fun. i get to work with art more - kind of managing the rendering, editing, organizing, naming, sending to freelancers. i'm not really sure whether it's actually fun, or i just think it is because it's different. only time will tell.
alisha and i are making big plans for overseas travel. a long-termish (probably no more than a year, but who knows) combination of volunteer work and run-of-the-mill backpacking. why? i think that "why not?" is a more appropriate question. more to come on that.
i've joined match.com. well, i actually joined in a couple of months ago. nothing has really come of it, and i'm pretty skeptical. i mostly did it out of romantic boredom (not sure if that can be a legitimate phrase, but let's run with it). it's kind of fun - getting emails and "winks" and then looking at profiles and deciding why it is, exactly, that there's no way. i've been on a couple of dates, and that's been good because the whole dating world still feels like another planet to me. mars, perhaps? i have more to say on the matter, but not here because that's weird. ask, if you'd like. it may or may not be weirder.
steven bought a ukulele, so that's fun.
i have every intention of taking a photoshop class this summer. we'll see.
i absolutely love glee.
i started posting twitpics of big rubberband ball that i have at my desk. i think they are great fun. they entertain me every time i post them and i know that other people look at them because there's a view counter on the twitpic site, but no one ever says anything about them. that makes it funnier because it creates or a sort of mystery for me about what people are making of my rubberband ball twitpics. if you haven't seen any of them, go here.

i guess that's it. i want to go to sleep now. thanks for reading this. maybe i'll write from california (she said, knowing full well that she would not...).

Jackson Pollock-brain

2010-05-09T23:07:00.004-04:00

i learned something. i learned it last weekend. i think i may have already "known" it, but you know how it goes - some things you can't actually know until you're there. for instance, when i was in school, i "knew" that it would be hard to find a well-paying job with a humanities degree, but now i actually know it.

i learned last weekend that fears and assumptions, no matter how well-founded they might be, come up against a particular and unavoidable challenge when spoken out loud (or written). also, the longer the fears and assumptions go unspoken, the more they are challenged when they are spoken. i think that's because the longer things live only in our heads, the more we distort them. they may have looked like a Dorothea Lange when they went in, but they come out looking like a Jackson Pollock.

that's why it's important that we not let things live only in our minds for too long. not that there's anything wrong with Jackson Pollock, it's just that clarity, at least for me, is an important something when it comes to how i view the world around me.

and if we're being candid, which we are, because i'm the only one here, i've realized even more, how important it is that i write here - it keeps things from living only in my head for too long. even if no one reads it, at least mostly-formed thoughts on paper are more easily judged than less-formed thoughts floating around in my head.

therefore, speak to people, write to people, or even speak or write to no one. it's all better than having a Jackson Pollock-brain.

people from that box

2010-05-02T23:39:00.003-04:00

i like to think that i'm pretty good at figuring people out. i pride myself, mostly secretly because no one really likes people who pride themselves, in my ability to identify peoples motives, goals, and general tendencies, fairly early in the game. this type of intuition is very convenient to have, but, as i've been learning more and more, it is never, regardless of my incredible abilities of interpretation, a good thing to put people in a box before you actually know them.

(i do realize that this is taking on a sort of "don't judge a book by its cover, " children's story sort of theme, but apparently i need to go back and read some of those again.)

when i do this, this sick sort of people-filing, i'm really just hurting myself.

for instance, a lot of people get thrown into the "we'll never understand each other and so there's nothing to be gained from a relationship there" box. i don't really do it consciously - it just happens. how the person gets in the box is irrelevant. what does matter is that they get there, and usually stay there for far too long. it's problematic because i am indifferent to, or even avoid the people in this box - irritated by the hopelessness of the space between us. it's embarrassing to admit because, as i mentioned above, judgement is passed swiftly, and usually based on very little information.

over and over again, people from that box surprise me.

and of course they do.

why?

because no one belongs there.

[exasperated sigh.]

this is one of those self-bettering truths that i often wish weren't so. i wish that there were some people with whom a relationship would hold absolutely no potential growth for anyone. that'd make life easier. there would be no guilt or self-sabotage in avoiding them. however, that's not the case. everyone has something to offer - a perspective that is, though perhaps completely different and uninteresting, or even maddening, one that will challenge our own to be more fully claimed or altered - both good things.

plus, i heard on the radio that interacting with people who challenge you on a regular basis actually helps prevent dementia, so there you go.

but i'm not the only one

2010-04-26T18:46:00.003-04:00

ahg.

ahg. ahg. ahg.

i want to talk about how the church is generally perceived by the thinkers of my generation and when i start to ponder it, ahg is the first and the second thing that comes to mind.

it's hard because i know that the church has within it many loving, open-minded, compassionate, and communicative people. why doesn't everyone else know that?

i have a theory. well, a theory that is made up of a bulleted list. i love bulleted lists.

no one wants to talk about religion--it's pretty much understood that christians have some sort of handicap that prevents them from seeing that what they say they believe can't possibly be true. and so many christians live in this strange state of wanting badly to talk about our faith with people with whom we have any sort of relationship, but at the same time being paralyzed by a fear that we might, in the minds of those around us, join the crazy ranks. and there's little worse than joining the crazy ranks. we work hard for credibility and, whether it's fair or not, we risk losing it when we talk about Jesus.
something worse than joining the crazy ranks is joining the crazy and assaulting ranks. "assaulting" isn't quite as fun a word as "crazy," but i can't figure out how else to describe the manner in which some past, present, and unfortunately future christians (individually, or as a church) try to communicate their faith. regardless of who i am, when i start to talk to someone about my faith, i'm continuing a conversation that that person has already been having with any other "religious" person/institution in their life. this is particularly difficult here in the south as these conversations have often been long and damaging - assaulting. it's almost like if i had an identical twin who murdered someone. i would spend my whole life trying to convince people that i was trustworthy and maybe never really succeed. i might just want to hide in my room, only speaking to people who already knew me - to whom i didn't have to explain myself. that's a very tempting option for christians - hide in the church where no one will challenge.
this is kind of an extension of the previous point: because one of the biggest complaints that people have against christians is that they talk too much and listen too little, it becomes difficult to talk. but how will people know that we're different, if we don't talk? but how can we talk without making the same mistakes all over again? not without difficulty.

it's risky and difficult. we might say the wrong thing. people may not understand. they may say hurtful things. they don't mean to be hurtful. like i said: not without difficulty.

but it's worth it, right?

isn't it worth it? to let the world know that christians are really just people (regular ol' people) who follow Jesus, someone who, if you read about it, came to love, heal, teach, and to give us a chance at reconciliation. how we turned that into something crazy and assaulting is a mystery but hopefully we can make amends - convince people that we, though not perfect, are not our murdering twin.

now now now

2010-04-24T02:44:00.002-04:00

once again, it's very late. i want to be asleep, but it's my final night of the five-blogs-in-five-days challenge, and i couldn't simply go to sleep with such an accomplishment at my fingertips. okay, it's not really that much of an accomplishment. some people blog every day. i'll try to blog more. i will. i will.

i'm not going to write much, mostly because i want to sleep.

what i want to say tonight is really something that i need to internalize, myself. people put a lot of pressure on themselves to make their lives look a certain way - have a certain career, certain body, certain partner, certain home, certain car - the list goes on and on. we all have an idea about what our lives could look like and should look like. take a second to envision that. it might not be specific, it might just be a state of mind, or even just a set of vague characteristics that will make you happy.

now that you have that in your head, you might either be excited, because you believe you're on your way, or depressed, because you just don't really see it happening, or know how to change that. it's the latter group that i often find myself in, and it's the latter group that i'd like to engage right now. so, all of you shiny, happy, on-your-way-to-the-top people can just stop reading right now. not really. that would hurt my feelings and you might become a bounce rate statistic for this blog.

now, second group, in my experience, those negative feelings often rest on me. i'm responsible for the direction of my life, and if i'm not making it happen, then it's my fault. this sort of self-loathing is how unhealthy complexes are born and perpetuated, and that just makes life difficult. i propose, for us, a slight shift in perspective. i've said this before - perspective is absolutely everything.

let us never be upset with ourselves for what our life looks like. that's silly and not constructive.

why?

well, because we, our present selves, really only have control over one thing - the absolute present. the only thing i can control at this very moment is what i write here, because that's what's going on right now. do you see? life is a vast series of very small and very large choices, and if we just focus on making the decision right in front of us a good decision, then we will be well on our way. this attitude may or may not change the course of our life. (that's a disclaimer - i'm not offering advice that will change your life circumstances, per se.) but, it will make the life we have a happier one.

for instance. let's say that i wanted a new job because the one i had was slowly crushing my soul. i could complain to everyone who would listen and be angry with myself for not having a better job, but that wouldn't help anything. it would only make me angry and think poorly of myself and i need to get along with myself because i have no choice but to be myself.

if i, instead, whenever tempted to have this bad attitude of exasperation and self-hatred, were to look online for a job, or work on my resume - that would be me, doing what i can do at that very second to make my life into something that i want it to be.

as i said at the beginning, this is a message to myself more than anything else: i can only do what i can do at any given time, let the rest fall as it will, because it will anyway, with or without a shred of my concern.

this is where, as a christian, i should have some sort of advantage. though i'm kind of unclear as to what God actually moves and changes in my every day life, trusting that things that i can't control will work out - looking for the good in everything, for the hand of God, is healthy. it, when done properly, allows me to focus only on what i can do in my tiny little sphere of influence, and if we all did that, all the time, our tiny spheres would make up one, giant, worry-free world.

katie and the south

2010-04-23T02:02:00.002-04:00

i wrote a blog, a while back, entitled "katie vs. the south." it was about gender roles and sexism in the south - misogyny, to be more precise - as a woman, after all, i have no clearer view of discrimination than of the sort which is inflicted upon me. i was rather hung up on gender questions, as you can tell from the content of my blogs during that period.

this post, however, will be nothing like that. i would like to balance things here by discussing some positive observations that i have made during my time below the mason-dixon. i decided upon this topic today, as i drove from durham, north carolina, to johnson city, tennessee, through virginia. i've made the drive from here to there and back again several times and have never been through virginia - thank you, GPS. yes, i was in three states today - of america, that is. i will make no comment on how many states of mind i have visited since waking this morning :)

i was driving through beautiful mountains, windows down, hair dangerously flying in front of my face, singing along to wagon wheel by old crow medicine show. i began to realize that i really have come to have a very special place in my heart for the south.

it wont deny that it's been a long process, and there is still something inside of me that feels akin to shame when i make this confession. (i suppose it's that feeling that causes me to refer to it as a confession.) i think that when you're raised in the northeast, you are programmed to believe that all other areas of the country are inferior to your own. (except maybe the west coast because california and seattle seem pretty hip.) the south is no exception, and is actually, i would say, at the top of the unwritten list of regions to which the northeast is superior. i say the list is unwritten, but i'm sure you wouldn't have a problem getting one of us to write it out for you.

for these reasons, combined with the misogyny, country music, and artery-clogging food, i was somewhat slow to come around. i viewed my life in the south as a horizon-broadening sort of experience, but certainly not something that could in any way compare to living in the great northeast. the proud yankee in me is by no means dead, and i'll argue the outstanding merits of the region with anyone who will fight back, or even listen, but my attitude toward the south has gradually, certainly, and unexpectedly changed.

who could possibly hate the south while listening to wagon wheel? it's just not possible. even my proud clam-chowder-filled heart swells when the banjo starts to play and my mind relives even just a small fraction of the good things i have experienced here. i smile bigger than i usually ever do when i'm alone and i get all happy inside.

the landscapes around here give me this warm feeling. the landscapes look pretty much identical the ones i enjoyed growing up in new england, when they weren't under feet of snow, of course. and what i can't figure out is how looking at basically the same thing, only in two different places, can make me feel two, both delightful, but distinct feelings? it's strange, but it happens. i think that the drive between ashville and johnson city might just be the most beautiful on earth.

the culture is interesting. i believe that one of the reasons that we northeasterners feel so justified in believing that we're the greatest is that we have such history and culture all around us. the south certainly has no shortage of culture and, while i might not understand or appreciate all of it, i can definitely see the value in it, especially after spending a year in florida. (it was a great year, but trading the freedom trail for strip malls wasn't the best deal i ever made.)

the weather is generally pretty great. i wish there was more snow and snow plows, and maybe a little less humidity, but i can't complain when i get to wear t-shirts in march. maybe that's why the landscapes make me feel warm - because i'm actually feeling warm.

i already knocked the food, and i have a standing rule that, if i can help it, i try to avoid restaurants with "biscuit" in the name, but i will say that the southern culinary tradition of "casserole" and "salad" as words that can aptly be applied to just about anything on the table, is quite impressive. the word casserole used to make me cringe, but now it just makes me get ready to cringe because it could be delicious or disgusting, you just never know.

alright, i think that's all for now. i'm sorry, my dear southern friends, if this wasn't mushy enough for you. i'm getting there, bit by bit.

it doesn't help that i'm living in the triangle, which, as i am reminded every time i venture beyond it's perimeters, doesn't really count as the true south. i do love it, though - the pseudo-south is just great. i could write a-whole-nother post about that, but i fear it wouldn't be of interest to those of you who don't live there. it would kind of be like if i wrote a whole post about why the patriots are awesome. not great for, umm, wide readership.

almonds and pistachios

2010-04-21T22:57:00.004-04:00

i drive myself absolutely nuts.

i am constantly having epiphanies about what it is, exactly, that is wrong with me.

i think it started kind of late in college. i thought it was interesting to evaluate myself, examine how i interact with people, identify a certain weakness or tendency, find the cause, and then try to fix it. then, in the beginning, i think, it was a good and healthy practice. it was like i had a small man in a lab coat inside my brain, nodding, and taking notes on a clip-board. it wasn't so bad. it was nice to be figuring out what made me tick. as i get older, i am fascinated by how much i have learned about myself recently, even though i have been myself, now, for over two decades.

getting back to dr. katie's-brain: now, it's like the dear doctor decided that the job was too big for just his little self. so, he got some funding, posted an ad, sorted through resumes, and hired a whole team of little doctors in lab coats to live inside my brain, nod, and take notes on clip-boards. too often, they present to me their dissertations regarding why i am any number of things: single, afraid of failure, insecure about my abilities, just to name a few. i take these theories, i mull them over, and they seem to make a lot of sense. "i mean, there must be some reason, right? and this is as good as any. nay, it's the best there is, surely," i think, like every other person whose head turns into a dollar sign when they are looked upon by self-help authors.

then, once i finally have everything figured out, i present the idea to someone, like i'm some sort of self-analysis guru. they don't know about the team of doctors, after all, so why shouldn't i take credit? the response is never, really, what i expect. it goes something like this:

me: hey, alisha. so, i've finally figured out why i sometimes have a hard time getting to know people. i think it's because i'm generally pretty awkward when i meet new people.

alisha: that's not true at all, and now i think you're nuts.

like i said - not what i expect, after long hours of self-scrutiny.

so, i've decided - me, NOT the team of tiny doctors - that, in an effort to be less crazy, i'm actually becoming more crazy. go figure. i will call it ironic in the actual sense of the word, and not in the alanis sense of the word (awesome, but lacking a certain using-words-correctly quality).

there you have it. and, before you think you're so clever: I know that this whole post in itself is me practicing the self-destruction i just spent at least some time describing.

i get it. and to you, oh clever one, i say: baby steps, dear, baby steps.

i almost waxed indignant while eating triscuits and swiss

2010-04-20T17:17:00.010-04:00

okay. i'm having an issue here because the only thing that i really want to write about is my job, but i can't really bring myself to do it. isn't that a cardinal rule of something? don't blog about your job! i'm pretty confident that no one in authority over me cares enough to find my blog and read it (if they did, i might have less to write), but still, i am nervous.

so, here it is: the blog i began to write but then couldn't tell how far was too far and so decided to quit while i was ahead.

sorry it's not complete, maybe i'll finish it one day.

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it's impossible for me to gauge how much of what i have said about my job without going back and reading old posts, and i'd much rather just not know.

no job is perfect, i'm pretty sure of that. i know that some people absolutely love their jobs, but even then, i don't think they'd call them perfect. i don't blame the jobs - we humans are pretty fickle beings who don't like being told what to do, even by ourselves. so, we are left in a state of trying to discern whether or not the good outweighs the bad. unfortunately, for many of us, the big, heavy scale-tipper on the "good" side is that staying at the job we have means that we don't have to get another one. we become snared by a combination of laziness and fear of the unknown.

i have been working at this discernment/balancing act for some time now. i've been at my job about a year and a half and have wavered between enthusiasm and disdain. i am fickle, this i know. sometimes i find this cute and charming about myself, as i'm sure does everyone else, but not when it comes to my job. the pure frustration of being satisfied one day and fighting tears the next makes it difficult to find any sort of peace.

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there you have it, or, don't have it. if you, for some reason, are unbearably intrigued, feel free to email me or something and i'm sure i'll have too much more to say on the topic.

one would think

2010-04-19T21:00:00.002-04:00

one would think that spending most of my time with people who don't share my faith might weaken or dilute my faith.

the opposite is true.

filling my life with conversations with people who don't claim Jesus has had a very interesting effect: my faith has been affirmed, so very affirmed.

this is surprising because, before this season of life, i spent most of my life with very few significant relationships with those outside of the church. no one ever told me to be afraid, but i was, a bit. i was afraid of being in a place where i would be judged and rejected, and where everything i held most dear would be mocked.

i fear no more.

sure, i am not completely un-mocked, un-judged, and un-rejected, but the discomfort, the pain, even, is nothing, really, compared to the relief i feel, knowing that i can really belong to truly secular communities.

Jesus lived as though every person was worth seeing and loving. i say i serve Jesus, and that means i serve people. i connect with something inside of me that says that my well-being should be inextricably bound up in the well-being of other humans, any other human that it is within my sphere to impact - be they a friend, co-worker, or a poor farmer on a continent i may never visit.

when i connect with other people, even people who generally avoid christians like the plague, and when we discover that we're really not that different - we share that concern for the friend, the co-worker, and the poor farmer - my faith is affirmed. i was created to love, and so were they. they might not see it that way, but they inspire me because their compassion makes them more faithful followers of Christ than some people who claim His name.

sometimes i think, as christians, we lose the forest for the trees. we concentrate too much on the means, and not enough on the end. if we lift our gaze just a bit, to what it is that we're really trying to bring to pass, we might lock eyes with others who are looking there too, others with whom we never expected to share anything. and isn't that what Jesus did? share with the unexpected?

*therefore, i urge you brothers, do not think of yourselves more highly than you ought, but give those around you a chance to surprise and inspire you. let us allow ourselves to think that we might just have as much to learn as we do to offer, when it comes to our exchanges with the "outside world."

*Paul wont mind the plagiarism, I'm sure :)

they say it rots your brain

2010-03-24T23:31:00.002-04:00

my mother was right. television rots your brain. to be honest, i'm not sure if my mom ever really uttered those words, but someone's mom did somewhere at some point, and now i'm learning it firsthand.

about a month ago, i started watching gray's anatomy from the first episode on dvd. i finished the first two seasons and then moved on to glee. i've also been keeping up with american idol, the office, 30 rock, and snl. now, my most faithful of blog-readers will have connected by now that it has been just over a month since my last post and, that's right, i'm blaming tv. the shows that are airing weekly, which i enjoy via dvr, are not so much the problem. it's those confounded shows on dvd that ruin my life. i will come home from working 2 jobs and think to myself, "katie, sure you have something brilliant to write about - an insightful piece of perspective or didactic little short story - but no, you deserve to sit and watch 3 episodes of gray's stupidity. sure, your room needs to be cleaned and the kitchen floor is sticky, but instead of seeing to those things, you should probably watch glee until your eyes start to close."

ahhhhhhhh is all i have to say about that. anyone who knows me knows that if i am watching something on tv, be it "good" or "bad" television, or even a movie (though i have less tolerance for bad movies) the rest of the world fades away. it's strange, really. the house could be on fire, and still i will gaze upon the flickering screen. i can't really abide chatter during movies or television, unless it adds something or makes me laugh - it's part of my condition.

all of this to say - i think i enjoy television and movies more than a lot of people, but it's for that reason i feel the need to temper my consumption. kind of like an alcoholic with booze. i know what you're thinking: "but katie, an alcoholic probably shouldn't have a tempered amount of alcohol, they should have no alcohol at all." and to that i say: "well, friend, that's where the analogy fails." seriously, i just need to really monitor my series-on-dvd consumption and i'll be fine. if, let's say, in a few months, i haven't written anything, you come to my house and find me in a katie-shaped hole on my couch and a remote fused to my hand, that's when you can stage an intervention. it's not so much that i watch an unhealthy amount of tv (or have been recently), i have just been spending an unhealthy percentage of the small amount of free time i do spend at my home, watching tv instead of cleaning my house or writing - two things that i used to be pretty good about keeping up with.

i hope you know that i'm being unnecessarily dramatic and don't think me some sort of recluse. on the contrary - if i were smarter, i would connect this problem to my general lack of down time. the fact that i really enjoy sitting for so long should probably clue me in to the fact that i do too much general "going." i will not, however, come to this conclusion, but will simply say that i should write and clean more, even if it means watching less.

as a sort of side note, i would like to say that i don't think that i really like gray's anatomy. the more i watch it, the more i feel like the characters aren't real people, and i must have real people. they do crazy things all willy nilly and often out of character, it seems just for shock value. i have the first disc of the third season from netflix, so we'll see if that ever finds its way into my brain before it finds itself back in the mailbox.

glee, on the other hand, is much more clever. it is obscenely cheesy, but so full of self-mockery, that you can't help joining in. i'm trying to finish the dvd episodes before it starts airing again. that way, i will have no more shows on dvd, hopefully, and my life can return to it's previous prolific and organized state.

something

2010-02-23T23:55:00.002-05:00

i figured i should write something.

i have some ideas in my head for real posts, but blogging is funny - i have to be in the right mood, or i just wont do it.

i'm in the mood now, but not for anything serious - i need to go to bed.

i've been having a strange, sluggish week. i've been throwing clothes around my room every single day - and not even in the kind of way that pricks me with guilt. i genuinely don't care that i can't see my little couch anymore. it's bizarre.

i've started watching gray's anatomy from the beginning. i decided to do in on a whim and i really believe that it has something to do with my disappointment regarding the zero romance that goes on in my life. i don't want to talk about it, but don't judge me, either. i'm only 1.1 seasons in, but it doesn't seem so bad, especially when i compare the amount of questionable content to the amount of satisfaction i get from the lit up faces of actors.

my household now includes 4 people, 5 guitars, and 1 bearded dragon.

i've discovered luna bars. they're great.

i applied for a job a few weeks ago. i haven't heard anything.

i think i've turned my back on grad school, at least for now. i've gotten to know several grad students (that'll happen, here in the triangle), and they all say the same thing - don't go to grad school unless there's no other way to do what you want to do. if i do it just because i think it's a better option than what i'm doing now, and that it will probably open up more professional opportunities, i'll just end up hating my life. well, great. finding a graduate program, though challenging, seems easier to me than finding a better job.

i do want a better job. i like where i work, and most days i even like what i do there, but there are still those days that make me feel like a first-grader in a kindergarten classroom. the one perk of that scenario would be that, as a first grader in a kindergarten classroom, i would probably be the star student. my real-life situation provides no such silver lining. let's just say that this particular teacher(s) aren't easily impressed.

i don't really think i'm too good for the job that i have, if that's the impression that i'm giving. i don't. i'm a 24 year-old humanities major. let's be serious. i think it has more to do with the time that i've spent there and the the fact that i haven't heard so much as one "you're good at what you do," or "we're glad you're here" from the powers that be. it just makes me feel that i haven't accomplished anything and then begs the question: what i am working toward?

that's some days. other days, i'm blissfully happy with my life and kick myself for not just having a better attitude. i really should just have a better attitude, for everyone's sake.

well, hopefully there will be more to come soon. i can't bear to look at my dismal google analytics stats anymore...

where she's been

2010-01-31T10:49:00.003-05:00

her tiny, tired legs struggled to carry her body over the snowy sidewalk. we had already lagged far behind the rest of our sledding party, and i could see the house--our destination--from where we were, but our pace promised that we would not be there soon.

"i just wish i could walk faster. i hate being so small." the laments of a five year-old always seem a bit ridiculous from the perspective of an adult. of course, she wont be small forever and soon she'll be able to walk just as fast as she pleases but, if i remember anything about being a child, promises of the future are seldom comforting.

"you're not small! you're just a perfect five year-old who is a perfect five year-old size. look, i can see the house! we're almost there!"

my fake enthusiasm had little effect as far as lifting her spirits, but she did lift her body and begin to trudge, very slowly.

i knew that she just wanted to be back at the house - warm and dry with hot chocolate to end an afternoon of sledding. i wanted that too.

her current mood was starkly contrasted by her demeanor earlier in the day as we walked that same sidewalk, in the other direction. she had never been sledding before and was bursting with excitement from the moment we left the house. she skipped down the street:

"this is the best day ever! i love this day!" she repeated, over and over again. the little north carolinian-born girl had seldom seen snow, and maybe had never seen this much. i certainly hadn't ever seen that much in the south--8 inches or so.

but, all of this was forgotten now. her small stride had stolen her joy.

for a minute or two, i began thinking about other things, and slowly widened the space between us.

that was, until i heard "wait up!" from behind.

i turned around and saw her walking toward me. she was not walking on the sidewalk. she was walking where the grass would be, if it weren't for the deep snow. i was slightly irritated.

"why don't you walk on the sidewalk? it'll be easier because there's not as much snow!" i coaxed her, not understanding why, in all of her frustration and weariness, she would choose the most difficult path.

"i like it! i like to make tracks!" she responded, as if i should have known.

i couldn't help but laugh and i certainly couldn't argue. of course she wanted to make tracks. and she will continue to want to make tracks. she will continue, i hope, to walk in the deep snow, even though it's harder, just so she can see, and everyone else can see, where she's been.

you're welcome in advance (scone recipe)

2010-01-29T10:11:00.005-05:00

a couple of weeks ago, i had a small gathering of women at my house:

Tea, Scones, and Bridget Jones

i was very excited about this - the movies, the crumpets, the devonshire cream, the lemon curd, the tea, and (of course) the scones!

my only problem was that i had never actually made scones before and here they were, right in the title of my shindig. typically, i don't really hesitate when it comes to cooking new things - i just do it and it usually turns out fine. cooking isn't rocket science and i usually don't set my sights on anything "advanced." anyway, from what i had heard from the respected chefs in my life, scones could be a bit tricky to get right.

tricky scones+my first time+scones in the title of my shindig=a wee bit of anxiety

to make a short story very long....here's the recipe that i found/altered/enslaved. for those of you who were concerned for me and my scone party, you can relax. the scones came out perfect and a good time was had by all. that's why i'm posting the recipe.

Ingredients:

3-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons and 2 teaspoons baking powder (weird, i know)
1/2 cup white sugar (or brown sugar. see below)
1/4 teaspoon salt
10 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup milk
3/4 cup sour cream
2 eggs
2 tablespoons milk (or kahlua. see below)
however much of whatever "filling" you want to use (see below)

this is what i used for two different types of scones:

darkberry scones (made-up name, pictured above):

a little less than one bag of ghirardelli dark chocolate chips (we got hungry before it was time)
one small package of fresh raspberries

kahlua spice scones (made-up name):

3 tablespoons and one teaspoon of pumpkin pie spice
2 tablespoons of kahlua (to replace milk above)
1/2 cup brown sugar (to replace white sugar above)
1 teaspoon brown sugar

now, in my limited experience, this recipe lends itself well to different types of ingredients, so whatever kind of scone you think would be delicious (and fun to name), go for it.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees (fahrenheit. this is america).
Sift (or just make unclumpy) the flour, baking powder, sugar (brown sugar for kahlua spice scones) and salt into a large bowl.
This next part is kind of annoying, so bear with me.
Dice all of the butter into small cubes - about the size of a pea - and add to the dry mixture.
Mix the butter cubes into the dry mixture with your hands - some of them will clump together. Rub any clumps between your hands until none of the butter balls are bigger than a pea.
At this point, if you're going to add any fruit or chocolate (here i added the dark chocolate and raspberries for the darkberry scones) or anything like that, do it, and mix it all together (dry mix, butter balls, fruit or whatever) with your hands until everything is sufficiently coated with the dry mix.
Mix together 1 cup of milk and the sour cream in a measuring cup. Pour all at once into the dry ingredients, and mix gently with your hands until well blended. Pretend your putting clothes on a baby or defusing a bomb or something. If you overwork the dough, I am told, your scones with have the density and appeal of a foot.
The dough will be sticky and in clumps - it will not end up in one neat ball like bread dough or something. It will be somewhere between bread dough and cookie dough. Just make sure that all of the dry ingredients have been absorbed into the stickiness.
It was at this point that I (for the kahlua spice scones) added 3 tablespoons (though, it was more like "shake, shake, shake, that looks good, right?") of pumpkin pie spice to the dough and just mixed it a little bit more - until it looked evenly swirly and nice.
Here, you might want to wash your sticky hands, dry them, and flour them.
Arrange the dough on a greased cookie sheet in little mounds about 3 inches in diameter. They can be pretty close together - almost touching, even.
Whisk (or fork) together the eggs and 2 tablespoons of milk (if you're making kahlua spice scones - replace the milk with kahlua and also add one teaspoon pumpkin pie spice and one teaspoon brown sugar). Brush the tops of the scones with the egg wash (try to use it all) and let them chill out for about 10 minutes.
Bake for 10 to 15 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the tops start brown a bit.
Take them out of the oven and use oven mits, for crying out loud. (see how i avoided a lawsuit there?)
Top with whatever you would like and enjoy (the scones and all of the accolades). I recommend devonshire cream, some kind of jam and/or lemon curd. All good things - the British will be proud.

there you have it. please post success/failure stories or scone tips for those of us who plan on making many more scones in the future.

special thanks goes to cristin campo, who was my scone-making partner. we did it, kid. we did it.

choose your own adventure

2010-01-19T23:12:00.004-05:00

the thames

I, only seventeen and a novice traveler, was not entirely comfortable in my pronunciation of the name of the river that ran through London, but I loved it. I loved walking along it, being in a city, a modern, expensive, overdeveloped city and looking at a piece of nature that would not easily surrender control. It was a natural power amidst a jungle of created giants and that night, it was the perfect setting. It was sunset, and the sky behind Big Ben boasted colors that I thought only existed on postcards. I walked along the river, safe and dry on my lofty cement sidewalk. The still air rested at that very particular temperature, which made it impossible to sense. There was no warmth and no chill, no boundary between me and my surroundings. I strolled, weaving though the melting clocks of Dali sculptures and still feeling high from my ride on the London Eye. It was strange - to feel so intrigued by a place that millions of people call home, call ordinary. Then I came upon them - two men, one gently pulling a bow over his violin as he swayed - a dance that made music. The other, singing a song so full of passion that I could very easily have believed that it was me whom he loved. My heart swelled. I was experiencing the most romantic moment of my young life, and was alone, save two strangers whose hearts truly felt nothing but hope that I might be moved enough to drop something in the violin case at their feet.

this is where the story ends. i only write nonfiction. i know that many of you, tale-tellers, love to write fiction. please, if you would, finish my story. i hope to have at least a couple of versions - each a lovely collaboration - romance, adventure, zombies, whatever - a collection of little stories, each with the same opening. fun? do it. thanks.

please post your story here (facebook or blogger) for all to read.

love love

I'm So Silly: A Short Story

2010-01-19T23:06:00.002-05:00

To be young is to be silly. It cannot be avoided. To be silly, though, is to be empty and ready to learn, which is something that, as an adult, I wish I could practice more often. The following is a particular incident that sticks out in my mind. It helped be become a bit less silly and a bit less empty, for my own good and for the good of unsuspecting homeless people everywhere.

Jackie and I pulled off the interstate. We had spent the morning at church and had been inspired afresh to be loving and helpful to those in need. As we pulled up to the traffic light at the end of the off-ramp, we noticed a man on the median to our left. He was sitting on an overturned shopping cart and holding a cardboard sign. He wore layers of worn clothing, dirty tennis shoes and a navy blue winter hat that couldn't restrain the disheveled hair beneath it. Next to him on the ground was a large pack - the sort of thing that I imagine in my fantasies of backpacking through Europe. He was, I imagined, a man of many places. Though his face was rough and weathered, and his broken smile brought back childhood memories of the tooth fairy, I saw a certain carefree spirit in his eyes, which told me that he was not much older than us.

"Perfect." I thought. "A needy person! I can't even imagine how happy he'll be once we're through with him."

We pulled up next to him. Jackie rolled down her window.

"Hi!" we said, nervous, excited, and trying to appear cool.

"Hi," he responded. He seemed a bit suspicious, an appropriate response to the approach of teenage girls, but also intrigued and friendly.

"I'm Jackie, and this is Katie. What's up?"

"Well, I'm just trying to raise some money to get a little further south for the winter." The young man explained, humoring us - the same was written on the sign he was holding.

"Cool. Is there anything we could get for you? Food or something?" Jackie asked, gesturing toward the Walgreen's across the street.

Simply giving him money wasn't even close to the dramatic scene we were hoping for. We were going to do something great for him, something he would never forget, something he would tell his grand-kids about. I could hear the story-telling already: "I'll never forget those kind girls. They restored my faith in humanity and changed my life forever."

Before my fantasy was finished, he replied, "Nope. I'm fine. I actually just ate and I'm pretty stuffed."

"Was he serious?" I asked myself. "Does he know that he's homeless?" I looked at him and made a lengthy, mental list of all of the things he didn't know he needed.

We paused for a second, shocked and unsure of our next move. Of all of the possible outcomes, I had not anticipated this – that the needy would need nothing. Eventually, we decided that his refusal was probably insincere, and definitely unacceptable. We were going to give him the help he needed, whether he knew he needed it or not.

After some considerable pestering: "Are you sure? There must be something. Come on!" we finally abused the poor man into submitting to our charitable intentions.

“I guess a bottle of water would be nice,” he surrendered.

Finally.

The light turned green, we drove across the street and entered Walgreen’s on a mission. We knew that he needed more than water. He was sitting on a shopping cart, for crying out loud! It was nearing Christmas and our romantically tragic assumptions assured us that there would be no gifts for him and that only we could rescue the poor, delicate soul from a loveless Christmas. We filled a gaudy red sock with various items, purchased the lot and were quite please with ourselves. A Christmas stocking for homeless man - what a lovely gesture! Possibly the loveliest.

After parking the car on the side of the road close to the shopping cart, we walked to join our less fortunate friend on his median. It was a different experience - standing face to face, as opposed to conversing with raised voices through a car-window. I felt vulnerable.

I handed him the stocking. He seemed glad to have it – perhaps he did know he was homeless after all. He emptied the sock onto the ground beside him and carefully rifled through it's contents, which included a toothbrush, hand sanitizer and dental floss. Finally, he looked up.

"Do I look dirty?" he asked, looking amused. My feelings of vulnerability quickly gave way to acute embarrassment.

"Uh...no...we just thought..." I started with urgency, but trailed off. A smile and a shrug finished the thought that my words failed. He chuckled and returned to examining his gifts.

I’m sure our new friend appreciated his toothpaste and granola bars, but I certainly gained something more important from our interaction. A connection was made and an unintentional prejudice was shattered. Sure, he was a homeless man, but he was still a man. He had a sureness of self that we lacked, a sense of humor enough to laugh at two young girls offering baby wipes to a grown man on the side of the road, and grace enough to thank us anyway, though I would not have blamed him if he had been offended, rejected our gifts completely, and taken his shopping cart elsewhere.

Experiences like these, though embarrassing to recount, are what have nearly succeeded in growing me up. If I were smart, I would ask for more until the job is done, but I am not smart, at least not yet.

I wrote this short story in college, and then I kind of edited/rewrote it today. Assuming you've read it (since you're now at the bottom of the page), if you feel so inclined, provide some feedback. I think it's fun, but as the author have very little by way of an unbiased perspective. If it turns out that others think it is fun as well, I might send submit it to some publication. If not, I'll leave it alone. The third option is conditional acceptance by my readers - ways I can change it to be worthy of wider readership. In any case, and let me know.

Thanks!!

for my birthday

2010-01-18T17:02:00.003-05:00

i've said it before and i'll say it again now -

charity: water is a phenomenal organization.

for my 24th birthday (February, 11), i'm asking for people to donate. i have set up a campaign here: http://mycharitywater.org/katies24th

if every one of my facebook friends donated $10 (or one trip to the movies/out to dinner) then we would have raised $6250. it only takes $5000 to provide a well for 250 people for 20 years!

let's try. i set the goal for $1000 because i'm generally afraid of failure, but if we exceed that, you better believe that i'm changing it to $5000 pronto. pronto!

for more information about charity: water, go here: http://www.charitywater.org/whywater/

to donate click here: http://mycharitywater.org/katies24th

inspire hope. restore faith.

sold

2010-01-12T16:27:00.011-05:00

The following is a gchat conversation. The name of my fellow conversant has been changed to protect the relatively innocent :)
me: sometimes i think i just want a more interesting job

other person: ME TOO.

me: hah

other person: thats why they call it work, and not play

blog on that

me: no. it's depressing

other person: exactly my point

something died in me when I got my first grown up job after college

for real

me: i feel like a sell out

i might blog about that

owning a house and working a 9-5

other person: yeah, but sell-outs pay their bills

you are what makes this country

hippie college kids walking around Alaska do nothing for the economy, society. they are takers not givers

so THERE. take that all you clove smoking hipsters

me: i used to like cloves

even though it is said that they make your lungs bleed

i don't really like them anymore

other person: selling out, one hip habit at a time

you're half way to a mini van

me: i don't think i'll have a mini van anytime soon

marriage is the one sell-out thing i'm pretty far from

so at least i have that :)

other person: yeah, you'll turn around twice and you'll have 2 kids and a jello in your DVD player.

i can't really decide whether or not i really have sold out. i often feel like i have, but i often feel many negative things about myself that may or may not be true. let's have some retrospect, so you can look at my life the way that i'm looking at it right now:

age 23 katie: why, hello, age 15 katie! would you mind telling me where you'll be in 10 years?

age 15 katie: not at all. wow, that's a really long time from now. surely, i will have graduated from high school and college. i will most definitely be married and maybe even have a baby. that will be so great. my husband will probably be a pastor and definitely a musician and will absolutely adore me. i might even have a great job at some non-profit organization, saving the world and they will, of course, give me a long maternity leave and then let me come back part time, if i want to.

enter age 20 katie

age 15 and age 23 katie: hi!

age 20 katie: listen, age 15 katie, i just want to tell you this now - we're still single.

age 15 katie: what?! you're such a bum!

age 20 katie: eh.

exit age 15 katie in a fit of rage

age 23 katie: sorry about that, age 20 katie. age 15 katie is a bit nuts.

age 20 katie: oh, i remember.

age 23 katie: great. would you mind telling me where you'll be in 5 years?

age 20 katie: certainly. well, i know i will have graduated from milligan. i'll probably be in grad school, or teaching at some wonderful little high school where they pay me in maple syrup. maybe i'll be in a relationship, maybe not. i'll definitely be doing something interesting and helpful for the world. hopefully i'll be playing a lot of music and writing. heck, i might even be a psalter.

i may or may not have gotten carried away in that hypothetical conversation between 3 different selves, but i'm done now and let us proceed.

now, it's clear that i've completely let down my 15 year old self, but that reminds me of a line in a song:

i know, we're not where i promised you we'd be by now,
but maybe it's a question of who'd want it anyhow?

that's not to say that if i, for some reason, was married and with child tomorrow, that i'd be devastated. i would embrace it. but, it's not something that i'm particularly longing for at this moment. i'm content in my life of parties and baking, sans diapers and where-will-we-spend-christmas? arguments.

it's the 20 year old self that i feel more upset about disappointing. i had such high hopes for myself - that i would do something different, unusual, radical, even. that i would live a life worth talking about. have i sold my dreams for a yellow kitchen and a steady paycheck? i understand that i'm only 23, but many people have done great things by the time they were my age, or at least working toward it. i have friends working in foreign countries, ministering in the church, teaching in the inner-city. i have an entry-level position and i wait tables. and i've started owning lots of things. i own a house and a couch and lovely dining room set. that bothers me - owning lots of things. it makes me feel heavier.

but at the same time, i will say that i still love my house and all of the things in it. i find them to be great tools of hospitality, and this i love. i also love having money with which to do nice things for people. for instance, i decided that i was going to make my brother a beautiful birthday cake from scratch. it cost $40 to get everything i needed! i like being able to do that, and to have parties to bring people together, and offer my house if anyone needs a roof or a family.

so, maybe working a 9-5 and owning a house isn't selling out after all. maybe "helping the world" doesn't necessarily mean doing that for a living. maybe that just means making life better for the people in your world. maybe i should just appreciate being blessed enough to bless others, and do it.

and perhaps, i'm really just taking myself far too seriously:
katie: i'm writing a blog and trying to decide whether or not i've sold out.
unnamed co-worker: i think you need to have gotten more before you're considered a sell out.
katie: great. i'm a sell out with nothing to show for it.

in order to help me feel better about my often-tiresome job, i'm going to try to get some short stories published, and hit up a few more open mics. i'll let you know how that goes. it's not a move to central america to live in a hut and rock orphan infants, but these are things that can happen now. perhaps i should try to steer away from escapist coping mechanisms for a bit and just try to make my life one that doesn't need them.

an ant farm

2010-01-06T09:25:00.004-05:00

perspective is important. that is an understatement.

in my opinion, a person's perspective is at the very foundation of who they are - it controls how they think, and so how they speak and act. even as a young person, i know that a person's success hinges largely on whether or not, when given lemons, they choose to make lemonade or cry about it - whether they view themselves as one who overcomes or one who is overcome.

this is why i believe that theology is so fascinating - it provides us with countless little blocks from which we can pick and choose to build our perspective - how we view people, how we view ourselves, how we view God, how we view the earth - the list goes on. hopefully the picking and choosing has more to do with truth than convenience, but that's a topic for another time.

one day, long ago, i was sitting in a theology class, and we were discussing atonement theories (how, exactly, the whole "salvation" thing works). i was intrigued because not one had ever told me that there were varying theories. this came as good news, because the image that had evolved in my head was somewhat frightening:

i saw God as an old-fashioned judge, with the gray wig and everything, sitting at a high judge desk with a giant wooden gavel. i am a tiny little person, standing under the gavel on that little wooden circle on which judges bang gavels. God looks at me and says 'you have been judged and you have been found wanting.' as soon as he says it, he raises the gavel high in the air to squash me and then Jesus shoves me out of the way and gets squished himself. God then leaves me alone, being satisfied to have squashed someone, even if it wasn't me. now, no one ever told me that story, but it's the imagery that comes to mind when we sing words like 'the wrath of God is satisfied.' (absolutely no offense to that song - it's one of my favorites, apart from that line.)

when i was in this theology class and we were discussing atonement theories, my professor spoke about it in a different way. he proposed that, instead of being squashed by God, Jesus, in his death and resurrection, was defeating death. my professor made a fist and called it humanity, and then covered his fist with his other hand and called it death - death was something that eventually subdued every single human. but, when Jesus died and rose, the fist suddenly opened - throwing off the other hand - freeing humanity from bondage and making fear of death a thing of the past.

disclaimer - i'm not really trying to propose that this salvation idea is something different than you think it might be, i'm just trying to propose a different way of looking at it. perspective.

i've come up with my own analogy. an ant farm. i know i've never had an ant farm, and i may have never even seen an ant farm in real life, so if something about this analogy is inconsistent with known ant farm truths, you'll have to forgive me.

so, in this ant farm analogy, we are ants. God is the little kid watching us, overjoyed. now, the little kid feeds the ants by putting their food, let's say a delicious christmas cookie, on top of the dirt. at first, all is well - the ants walk around on top of the dirt, eating the cookie, looking up at the little kid with grateful, even teary, eyes because they love their christmas cookie so much. (i'm not an expert on ant nutrition, so let's just pretend that christmas cookies are very good for them.)

eventually, one of the ants finds its way into the dirt. all of the others follow, forgetting about christmas cookie. once the ants are underground, they can't find their own way out and they begin to starve. this is devastating to the little kid, who loved nothing more than to watch the ants enjoy his cookie. instead of giving up on his precious little pets, he sits and watches as the ants, who are mere centimeters away from what they need, run around with no way back to the top.

if i didn't lose you at the christmas cookie, i might lose you here:
the little kid then turns himself into an ant and follows the ants underground. he finds a few of the ants, gains their little ant trust and leads them back to the christmas cookie at the top. the journey wasn't easy, but he did have some extra insight, having seen the ant farm from the outside.

i'm going to stop the story right here, before we get into the last ant supper, methods of early ant execution, or the great insect commission, but i think you get the point, hopefully. and hopefully i get the point too.

no analogy is perfect - not the artist in my last post, not the gavel, not the fist, not the ants. but each of them can help us make sense of things. i just like to remind myself that i don't know everything. in fact, one could make the argument that i don't know anything. therefore, i certainly can't pretend that there is only one way of looking at something and i've found it, especially when it comes to important things, like christmas cookies.

paint me perfect

2009-12-30T17:39:00.003-05:00

because we humans love our analogies, and because it's difficult to understand our relationship with God, the bible is full of helpful analogous descriptions of how we are regarded and how we, in turn, should regard God. our God is our shepherd, our rock, our foundation, our shelter, our strong tower, our provider, our groom. i could go on and on. interestingly, the parent-child (usually father-child) relationship is probably the most popular. i say this is interesting because, looking at the state of many parent-child relationships around us, i don't know that we, as a species, really have that one down. all of the others can be more easily understood. a provider, for instance, is, by definition, one who provides. a father, on the other hand and as sad as it is, is not necessarily one who fathers.

i have recently come to fancy a different analogy. God is my artist. if we think about it, the artist chooses everything about his or her creation (not the same can be said for parents and children). the colors, the shapes, the mediums - it's all intentional and meant to work together to accomplish something - the expression of the artist, the glorification of the artist, the connection between the artist and the spectator. i like this. i like to think of myself as a piece of art, crafted for a purpose - an expression of my creator, something to bring glory to my creator, something that can help others connect with my creator, who they might come to know as their creator.

i like this, too, because it helps me celebrate myself. parents are often trying to shape their children - curb things that may prove problematic and encourage things that will be helpful. artists are different. if there is something in art that appears to some to be errant, it is not. the artist put it there and it will serve a purpose at some point. i fear that some christians of a more legalistic persuasion miss out on this. if dancing brings joy to my soul, i can be confident that i was created that way - it's a gift, not a blemish. it is not something shameful, it is something put in me for my own good, at least, if not for something greater (in my case, it's probably just for me).

let me push the analogy to include the human condition and human error. i acknowledge that everything in me is not good. i do have a capacity for evil. perhaps that capacity is an imperfection in my canvass that the great artist manages to work into the piece. it is said that God does not waste pain and i believe that. i can think about some of the most painful things that have happened in my short life and not wish them away. they are so much a part of me that i can't imagine myself without them - without the things they taught me. how's that for efficiency? no waste. God is so green.

in light of all of this, let me say that as pieces of art, we have certain responsibilities.

we cannot mute ourselves, or each other. imagine, if you painted two pictures and they came to life and decided that they were ashamed of and needed to hide the very pieces of themselves that you loved best - the parts that made them special (adam and eve?). i realize it's a weird hypothetical situation, but it would be rather heartbreaking.
we cannot mar ourselves or others. same situation - if one of the paintings set itself on fire while the other attacked it with a knife. even a little weirder and definitely more heartbreaking.
we must embrace ourselves and each other so much that we nearly explode. i don't really know what that would look like for our live-painting analogy, but you get where i'm going with this.

in short, you are beautiful people, and i'm not so bad either, so we should act like it.

embarrassing

2009-12-16T00:17:00.004-05:00

i don't even know what to write. it's all embarrassing. i missed the unc english graduate program application deadline. it was today and my application was 90% complete the minute the red text appeared that said "application deadline past" in the exact place where the "submit" button once was. obviously, i should have seen it coming - the deadline now, technically, being yesterday.

i was recently advised against applying to the MTS program at duke because it's competitive and i have no plan.

the only other graduate school option i have considered is a program in london. how can i possibly afford to go to graduate school in london? i don't know either.

basically, i'm tired of my wonderful, better-than-average-but-still-entry-level job, but i don't know what else to do.

now, i completely understand that i may write next week about how i want to grow old and retire at this job, but for the time being, i'm frustrated with it. i know that i'm really very blessed to have a job that i enjoy in such a precarious economic climate (two, even!), but does that mean that i need to be satisfied as i head into a second year of working two jobs, neither of which do i believe are really developing me as a person, or allowing me to use my gifts and talents in a truly fulfilling way? i feel like a brat just typing this. it certainly IS so much to ask for these things in a job, especially now.

so, i will be quiet, go to work(s) and finish my application for the program in london, just in case they feel like awarding me some sort of fantastic scholarship - one that will make it only a slight impossibility, as opposed to a laughability (made up).

i actually feel somewhat better now that i've officially missed the deadline. at least there's nothing i can do about it - feeling bad doesn't help anything. today at work, when i was working on my application and thinking about how i wasn't even really that interested in getting an MA in english, i started to get truly stressed out. the 1/4 life crisis feeling was growing in my throat, as it often does these days, while i watched the clock crawl from 4:50 to 5:00. it took so long. when it was over, i went home and piled my entire wardrobe on my bed. item by item, i put everything back, neatly, with the exception of he things that didn't make he cut. a small mound of clothing in the hallway outside my door slowly grew into a sizable pile. the process did not complete my application, but it was therapeutic. a clean closet helps to achieve a clean brain. when i was done, it was time to go to courtney's (my lovely sister-in-law) birthday party. next thing i knew, it was 11pm. i worked on my essay until 12:13, at which time, i discovered the application expiration. i guess i see now where my priorities are - clean closets and birthday parties, not graduate school.

i am disappointed not because it was the option that i loved, but because it was an option. sometimes potential options are all that get me through a bad day of checking indexes and 12% tips. as they dwindle, my patience dwindles, my tolerance dwindles, my grace dwindles. i don't like it. i feel myself becoming a person who is slightly less happy. i don't know how to help it.

like i said, who knows how i will feel 5 days or even 5 minutes from now, hopefully better and full of optimism. i pray now that i can be less consumed by my desire to have my desires met and maybe be more consumed by a desire to see the desires of others met. who knows, maybe it will become a two birds with one stone situation.

behind and restless

2009-11-03T12:14:00.004-05:00

behind.

when i started this blog in january, i had a dream of posting an average of 4 blogs every month. as you can see, i'm about 8 blogs behind and the year is nearly over. i'm going to try to play catch-up. we'll see if i make it. i'll try not to cheat and split single blogs into several posts. i'll try.

restless.

i think it has something to do with the fact that my 1-year anniversary at this job is today. thanks for remembering, by the way.

this was my goal - to have a grown-up job for one year. now i've done it. i'm officially respectable.

the problem with reaching my goal is that now i am no longer satisfied at this desk. admittedly, my satisfaction over the past year was a precarious thing, but now it is ever more fragile. broken, even. i was at this point once before - in the early spring, i believe. then, it was because i had nothing to do here. then, my antidote was to plan a move to central america. i know it would likely not happened, but the thought freed my mind. freedom of the mind, i believe, is far more important than freedom of any other kind.

this time, i'm not planning a move to central america. i'm applying to grad school. i take the GRE next wednesday. i'm applying to duke divinity for the masters of theological studies program; unc chapel hill for the masters of english program; and hopefully an english program or two back in england. in fact, if anyone knows anything about any english programs in england, that would be helpful. i have no idea where to begin picking one, or even three.

i'm taking the GRE and applying to these programs not necessarily because it's what i believe i need to do next, but because these acts give me a sort of vital forward momentum. if i fail and don't get into anything, or decide i just don't have enough money, then at least i tried. in that case, i would most likely embark on a job-search. after all, i am respectable now.

i would love to work in a PR/editorial position at a non-profit organization or interesting publication. those sorts of jobs aren't exactly flooding craigslist, but who knows.

update(s)

2009-10-20T21:32:00.005-04:00

i live in my own house now. i love it. it's a lot of work. it's like i'm now in a relationship with a very demanding man, except that instead of love and kisses in return, i get a roof over my head and my own bathtub. we're very happy.

i've painted many rooms. some are silly. i've learned many things in the process: paint always dries darker; you will usually run out of paint.

i still work too much.

i've been trying to craigslist a washer, dryer, sectional, and dining room set for weeks. one success: today, i bought a sectional. it's leather. it's beige. it's so very comfortable. it may be too big for the room for which it is intended. i think i will love it. if i don't, back to craigslist it goes.

i still enjoy both of my jobs.

i miss the commune: the bamboo, my roommate, my parents, my neices, my gym, my carrboro.

i knew i would. it's to be expected. i have no regret.

i dyed my hair 'navajo bronze.' i'm still not sure if i'm too pale to pull it off. i might look scary.

i still love jesus.

i'm trying not to eat/drink dairy. venti soy cafe misto, please. i'm not very good at it, otherwise. i work at an italian restaurant, which could as easily be called a dairy restaurant. cheese is delicious.

i discovered lip stain; like lipstick, but better.

my sister is back from costa rica. i love it. i love her. we wait tables together. look out, dining world of chapel hill.

my roommate brother bought a 42'' LCD television for our living room. i'm not really a TV gal, but it's pretty awesome.

i might have bone spurs in my left foot. it hurts.

i realized that i've been to 10 weddings in the last 18 months. i was in three of them. always a bridesmaid :)

last weekend, i was in NY for a karaoke/dancing-filled family reunion. this weekend, i will be in TN for homecoming. if there is karaoke/dancing, i wont be mad.

i adjusted the thermostat on my hot-water heater. it made me feel like an independent woman. woop woop.

i need a new laptop. i need a new camera. i also need the things listed above (craigslist). i find comfort in the fact that it is human to always feel "need." humans can be dumb.

i have a little bamboo plant from the blankenschade wedding. it is thriving at my new house. i feel that my own well-being here is somehow tied to the fate of that plant. weird. at least it's doing well.

i bought awesome new boots, but can't really wear them because of my bad foot.

i played music on the street a few weeks ago. there are many stories. ask if you're intrigued.

olive garden commercials are dumb (circumstantial addition).

i want to have a party. when the couch is here and the dining room set is here, it will happen. the washer and dryer aren't really necessary.

come and visit, please.

water please. no ice.

2009-08-26T23:33:00.005-04:00

i haven't really done this yet, i don't think--use my blog to shamelessly promote something that i think deserves promotion. here we go:

mycharitywater.org

1 in 6 people in our world don't have access to clean drinking water.

1 in 6. think of 6 people you love and imagine one of them having to drink out of the nearest puddle for their whole life, which, incidentally, would be quite short.

go to this site and see what you can do to help -- charity: water is doing absolutely amazing things to solve this problem. amazing. so amazing you will want to take part and they've made it embarrassingly easy. go to the site, watch the video. be inspired. that's one of life's beauties, right? finding things that inspire.

you're welcome and pass it on.

but seriously

2009-08-18T13:16:00.003-04:00

a theology professor once explained learning about God this way - sometimes we can draw a box of definition around God using only what we know God is not. finding what God is can sometimes be more of a challenge.

i know that God is not a God who has intended for me to live my whole life by emotion, chance and my own interpretation of events that may or may not be natural. i say this because i have seen christians live this way. i have seen some people very close to me live in agony and fear because the only way they know by which to make good decisions is to wait for a consuming conviction-to wait and see what God reveals to them through fleeting sentiments, billboards, or the good old fashioned 'open and point' scripture-reading. don't misunderstand me. i have heard several stories of God speaking through these very things, but as a general rule, i don't think that my relationship with my Creator should hinge on feelings and divinations.

i believe, rather, that i have been divinely equipped for this life, in a way that allows me to walk in humble gratitude and confidence in a life that is guided by principles of righteousness and love, when it is, in fact, guided by principles of righteousness and love. i do not always need to wait for a feeling to tell me 'yes' or to tell me 'no.' i do not need to live in guilt and uncertainty. guilt is not of God. once again, do not misunderstand me. it is important, it is vital to be ever-sensitive to the leading and the presence of the Holy Spirit. one would be a fool to disregard such a priceless gift. once again, i think i am just trying to find truth by naming non-truth. if i get caught up in over-spiritualizing every thing in my life (for instance - i saw a purple finch sitting on a lilac bush and so clearly, God wants me to move back to nh. no, that's silly), i believe that i will dilute what it is that i love most about God - the beauty and grace right in the midst of human depravity.

my real question in all of this is the role of God in my life. i think i that i understand, or at least know how to pursue further, how the existence and character of God changes the way i live my life. what i don't understand is where to draw the lines between attributions: for what am i responsible? for what are you responsible? for what is God responsible? for what is no one responsible? i'm not sure.

i started thinking about this a couple of years ago in the context of babies. my friend was getting married and having a hard time deciding what kind of contraception to use, or whether she should use it at all. i had heard before that the bible calls children a blessing, and so who are we to try and dictate when or how God chooses to bless us. this made sense to me at the time. then again, it didn't matter too much to me - marriage and babies being so far away.

then, my friend and i had a conversation with our pastor and his wife, who had decided to have no more children. they told us not to over-spiritualize the situation. they said that when a woman mis-carries, it's not necessarily because God took the baby away, but because God designed our bodies to work a certain way. this made me think about conception. i know that the bible says that i was knit together in my mothers womb, and that's a beautiful thought, but i wonder if we've interpreted it in a slightly over-literal sense. for instance, every day there are babies born in africa to impoverished women with AIDS and they do not survive through their miserable first year of life. is that the will of God, or is that just a consequence of humans refusing to care for one another?

since that time, i have struggled with this whole idea of attribution. i still don't really understand, but i guess if i understood everything, i wouldn't need a God. i have resolved to the philosophy that i should do all that i can do because that is all that i can do. whatever is out of my control may or may not be orchestrated by God, but i do know that whatever happens, God will help me to find the good and encourage it to grow.

dollah dollah billz

2009-08-18T12:49:00.004-04:00

i'm in a weird place.

not physically. i'm just in my room, but my place in life is weird. i'm still buying a house, but this process is so long and just keeps getting longer. by the end of it, i believe i will have spent the same length of time as an entire semester (allow me to revert to student-timing), just trying to buy a house. it's mentally frustrating, trying to prepare for a big transition that refuses to come.

it's not at all that i want to leave the commune. i really do love it here. i know that i will miss spending time with the people who live here with me because i know that i wont possibly see them as much. i already see them remarkably less than one would think, considering our proximity to one another. but, like i've said before, i believe it's a good step for everyone.

i recently purchased a set of furniture for my new home, should i ever actually live there. one piece is a chaise, which i plan to put in my room, and faint on from time to time, just for fun. last sunday, i went to my house with alisha and steven and laid on the floor of each empty room, imagining furniture and colors. it was great fun, though, i think, technically trespassing.

last night after work, i ran to thy gym, and the spent two hours in classes (body pump and yoga). i hadn't been in a couple of weeks, so it was a nice way to spend the evening. after i got home, i watched as episode of 'intervention' with my parents (love it) and then refused to start a movie with them at 10:00 because i couldn't stay up that late. i went to my room, changed into pjs and checked my voicemail. i had one from the cool kids at carmine's, and they were all going to bailey's to celebrate our dear noah's last night.

some people might think - it's already past 10:00, i have to be at work at 9:00, i really should go to sleep instead of driving 10 minutes away to hang out at a bar. some people also don't have a severe distaste for missing things. i got dressed and went, and didn't return until around 2:30. it was a whole lot of fun and i don't regret it, but when my alarm went off at 8:00 this morning, i did not feel well. i was tired from having not slept enough or well, i was hungry from not having eaten a real meal since 1:00 yesterday afternoon, i was so very sore from my gym craziness, and i was dehydrated from no water and some buffalo wings.

so, i've taken a sick day. that is why i am able to blog right now. i don't have much time these days. i worked about 70 hours last week - between the 9-5 and the restaurant gig. i can't complain too much. i have two jobs that i enjoy. it does make me tired, though. by this past sunday, i kind of felt like i was committing a slow sort of suicide. this week, i was scheduled for one less shift at the restaurant, and i found someone to cover another one - so that's a step in the right direction.

alisha (my roommate) is in ethiopia doing something very awesome, but it is still sad that she is gone for a whole two weeks more.

while writing this blog, i thought about writing, again, that i want to go to the divinity school at duke. and then i thought to myself: 'self, why don't you actually take a step in that direction, instead of just talking about it.' and so i did. i sent an email to the admissions dept, asking to set up an appointment. the only issue i take with the div school plan is that it very well may cost a lot of dollah dollah billz that i don't have. hopefully an admissions counselor will reveal all sorts of lovely opportunities that will make this be not so, but i guess we'll see.

i realize that this is a collection of random thoughts, but if i keep writing nothing at all, i will, well, keep writing nothing at all.

fun little musical things?

2009-07-21T23:33:00.008-04:00

so, i had this great idea a little while back. i was thinking about how much i miss playing music with my friends who now live so very far away from me. i thought to myself, 'if only there was a way to eliminate all the space and groove with them once again.' the best think i could come up with was to record myself playing some fun covers (or segments, anyway) and post it on facebook-maybe start a fun little trend of music people making fun little videos of themselves, so we can pretend we're not separated by states and states. i even used some fun effects - contrast, reverb, you know, what the professionals do.

i thought it would be a fun thing, but i had it up for a whole day and the only person who said anything was my loyal(ish) little brother (steven - word). i set it up as a music trivia so that people would have something to say besides 'hey katie, tune your guitar,' which, by the way, i know i should have done, but my tuner is on the fritz, so what are you gonna do?

now, i'm going to try again, but this time, i've tweaked the video so that all of the audio matches the video (imagine that) and i'm putting it here on my blog instead - it seems a safer place, where rejection is okay because 'maybe no one saw it . . .' i can't handle the facebook rejection for another day. my fragile ego can't handle it : )

i have this linked to my facebook page, so it will show up as a note, but let's pretend no one reads those - it might not require that much pretending. actually, if you're reading this as a note on facebook, i don't know if the video will show up, so click here: http://iwritetoberidofthings.blogspot.com/ but if you don't click, just don't tell me.

thank you friends. now it's your turn.

in case you were curious

2009-07-13T10:37:00.003-04:00

if i wait to blog until i feel like i have something earth-shattering to talk about, then i may never blog again. so here they are - a series of small updates.

i'm still buying a house and i'm still pretty excited about it. i drift off to sleep thinking about accent walls and coffee tables. though i'm still sad about the dissolution of the commune, i think it's going to be good for me. right now, i'm still qualifying for financing and whatnot, but as soon as the house is mine, i'll post some pictures somewhere, and ask all of you creative people to send me stuff with which to decorate my house :)

though there are several reasons for this move to happen, i cannot deny that there is much i will miss. living in carrboro, though a bit strange (i've recently heard it called a 'fantasy land'), has its perks - i can walk to my gym, my natural foods store and my local farmer's market. i can also walk to downtown chapel hill, which has more bars and coffee shops than i could ever frequent, even if i went out every night, twice. i will also miss my family and my delightful roommate. alright alright, let me move on before i change my mind . . .

because this house business is pretty expensive, i've been working a lot. i work 9-5 monday through friday, and then at Carmine's (restaurant) some nights and weekends. depending on how long my Carmine's shift-count is up for, it could get tiring, but right now, it's fun and somewhat lucrative, so that's good. i enjoy the people i work with there, so even if it's slow, it's fun, and that makes it worth being there.

the family tension has eased. i've continued to learn that people aren't as resilient as i would like them to be (including myself). i always look for some dramatic event - a conversation or something - to change everything, to fix everything. people rarely work that way. though it often takes seconds to inflict pain on someone, it may take years for that wound to heal. this is annoying, especially for a fixer like me, but it's just how we operate. i can be grateful that there is still plenty of love to go around, and good intentions. without these things, the wounds might never heal.

i've been thinking more about grad-school. in theory, i'm going to apply to the english MA program at UNC and the divinity school (program tbd) at Duke. assuming that i can get into both of these programs (which is kind of a leap), i'm not sure which one i would choose, or maybe try to design a hybrid? i'm not sure. i think that if i had to choose one, i would go to the divinity school - it just seems more relevant to my life. however, i do have a love for classic literature, and i think that it makes me a better person to learn more about people through what they have written, just as it makes me a better person to learn more about people and God through what we've written about God over the years. i guess this will all be irrelevant if i don't start taking some real steps toward applications and decision-making.

i am going to tx for the first time in a couple of weeks for my dear friends maggie and isaac's wedding. i'm excited to be a part of such a wonderful event and to travel to a place i've never been before to see so many people that i love. i'm smiling just thinking about it.

alright, just writing this blog has given me a couple ideas for some other blogs, so maybe this dry spell will end for a bit and i will have some profound, or even just interesting things for you to read. at the very least, give you a good reason to believe that you're not the only crazy one - i always like that :)

stickin' it to the man

2009-06-30T13:41:00.003-04:00

the following correspondence took place between me and an unnamed credit card company (it rhymes with shmitti-shmard).

Subject:	late payment fee
Date/Time:	06/29/09 02:05:14 PM

You wrote: Hello, I am writing to request that the late payment fee that was recently posted to my account be refunded. The payment was only 1 day late, and paying late, according to my record, is not nearly a habit. In fact, I often pay early and much more than the minimum payment. If you value my business, please refund the late payment fee. Thank You, Kaitlyn DeConto


Subject:	Re: late payment fee
Date/Time:	06/29/09 02:41:26 PM

Customer Service Wrote: Our records indicate that a payment of $20.00 was due in our office by 06/15/2009. Because that payment was received on 6/16/2009, a late fee was charged to your account. For more information, please review your Card Agreement. After a thorough review, we have determined that your account is not eligible for the credit of the late fee. Was this message helpful? Let us know Thank you for using our website.


Subject:	Re: late payment fee
Date/Time:	06/29/09 11:04:59 PM

You wrote: Hello, I am very disappointed by this and will be closing this account. Thank you.


Subject	: Re: late payment fee
Date/Time	: 06/29/09 11:24:07 PM

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but life goes on

2009-06-13T00:13:00.003-04:00

i feel like most blog entries that i read (including some of mine, not that i go back and read them *cough*) begin with something to the effect of "wow, i haven't written in a while." so, i'm not going to do that, i'll just get on with it.

the last few weeks have been . . . tumultuous, to say the least. i've been avoiding writing because the things that have been occupying my thoughts most have been the sort of things one cannot really blog about - things that will incriminate one and/or the ones that one loves.

as some politicians might say (and i know because i was once a poli-sci major) - feelings were hurt and are being hurt, bad conversations have happened, good ones have not happened, love is not winning. the whole thing breaks my heart into so many pieces that sometimes i think that i will forever see the cracks, even if they get put back together again. i know that's emotional and not rational, but that has been my life as of late. it's hard to sort through powerful, overwhelming emotions in order to find truth. not just logic, but truth and wisdom. i can't say that i've done that, and i can't even say where i've failed - it's too close around me to be seen clearly.

if you're not wholly frustrated by my purposeful ambiguity, then read on.

though very painful, i have been trying to find good in all of this. it is my family that has fallen prey to, well, my family i guess. i'll proudly admit that i've found nearly all of my purpose and identity over the past year in my family. i moved here for us, i worked, worshiped, played with us. it was great and lovely and i think, in so many ways, exactly what i needed. i don't know what i would have done without such an amazing network of people - all caring for one another, all living and sharing life together. it really was a blessed season.

to be honest, i probably never would have let it go, ever. i would have stayed at the commune (where i live now with most of my family) forever, making my (if ever) husband move here with me and my children grow amongst the bamboo jungle in our yard. and that would have been great. but, community living is hard, very hard, and it takes a compassion and selflessness that is beyond most people. i was so proud of my family and, in a way, i thought it might be invincible. this is where i have found growth in the heartache: it is time to move on. i cannot allow my own well-being to be so inextricably caught up in the behavior and relationships of others, even if they are my family. i need to be able to have more grace for these people that i love - i cannot have this grace if my heart bleeds with every intimation of conflict. my heart has bled too much. i do not claim to be innocent, but, as i said before, it is all still too close to understand. i am waiting for retrospect to provide clarity, be it vindication or guilt.

i am not giving up on anything, just trying to be healthy. i still think my family is cooler than your family (hah) and that we will all be happy with each other once again. let us pray that that day will be sooner rather than later.

i am trying to buy a house. it is a lovely house: 3 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, energy efficient. it is in durham, nc. 2.5 miles from my job. 13 miles from the commune. i think it is an opportunity for me to start a different kind of life.

college was formula. the commune was baby food. now it's time for some tofu stirfry.

will you submit to me? circle yes or no.

2009-05-21T11:23:00.005-04:00

i am suffering from an identity crisis.

it's been just over one year since i graduated from college. it took some time for me to feel comfortable as a non-student. it took some time for me to know how to talk about my life without school. it helped that graduation hadn't been so long ago. i could still say 'i just graduated in may.' i can't say that anymore - we're already in another may.

fortunately, i've almost completely coped with being a non-student. now i have to find an identity as a regular person, an adult with no student role on which to blame things. my new roles have to be taken more seriously. i'm a woman. what does that mean? i'm a follower of Christ. what does that mean? i'm a part of a body of people who follow Christ. what does that mean? i am a close friend and family member. what does that mean?

i think that when i was younger, all of these roles just were. i didn't do anything to get them - they happened to me, and so i reacted. now, i feel a responsibility for figuring out what each of these things mean, and how i can best fill them all at once.

the role that i have been struggling with the most lately has been my role as a woman, more particularly, my role as a now single, maybe one day married, Christ-following woman.

i know that i write about gender stuff a lot (maybe not, but it seems like it), but it's because, like i said, in this season of my life, i'm really working to figure out who i am and what that means. being a woman is a giant part of that because there has been SO much information thrown at me throughout my life about what a christian woman should look like. so much information that i have often felt like i am drowning in it, like it is an upset sea and i am an infant.

much of this information has been untrue and not at all in the heart of God (which is what i am trying to pursue). in fact, i have a book on my shelf at home right now entitled '10 Lies the Church Tells Women.' to be honest, i haven't read that book, but i like that it's there - it reminds me that it's okay to be discriminatory when it comes to this angry sea of information.

i have been so blessed and encouraged by christianity over the last year - continually learning more about the love and compassion that, if sought in earnest, Christ brings. i am always meeting people in this area - progressive, liberal people who have little interest in the heart of God, but who i feel i can connect with. it is exciting to me that the ideas of christianity can be so accessible to anyone seeking peace and justice.

now, what does this have to do with my identity crisis? i will tell you.

Ephesians 5
²⁴Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

as i was saying before, almost everything that is important to me, as a christian, often makes perfect sense to those uninterested in my faith. however, when i get to the part about a woman in a christian marriage (submission - ahhh), everything kind of falls apart. i picture in my head a conversation between myself and one of these progressive, liberal women. i barely get the words 'wives, submit . . .' out of my mouth and she punches me right in the face. i do not want to get punched. i do not want to stop having these wonderful, unifying conversations. what do i do?

actually, this isn't just about not getting punched. this is also about reconciling within me what sometimes feels like a nagging discrepancy. i believe that i was created by a loving God. i believe that i was created as a beautiful, feminine human. i believe that, as this beautiful, feminine human, i am just as valuable to my Creator as any other human and have just as much to offer. why, then would this Creator tell me to submit to another human? surely i was not created somehow inferior, in need of someone else to make me more complete, make my life more full and worthy. it is difficult not to interpret this piece of scripture as a kind of blow to women. i'm sorry if that's upsetting, but it's true. if, in a workplace, my supervisor told me to submit to another employee, would it not be right to assume that that supervisor thought that other employee somehow more able than myself?

all of this was bothering me in an undeniable and increasing way. last weekend, in fact, the sermon at church included this passage that includes the 's word.' i cried tears of frustration through most of the sermon - not something i have ever done before. i just couldn't figure out how to reconcile my own understanding of God with this idea of wives submitting to their husbands.

(note: it still bothers me that some christian men seem to accept this whole idea without question. fight with us to clear up this whole thing, to make sense of it. please don't just take it for granted.)

a lot has happened in my mind since last sunday. many conversations have taken place, much reflection and prayer has gone on, and i think that i'm finally at peace, or at least approaching peace. the following are things that have help me approach peace.

Ephesians 5 ²⁵Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her - if i was in a relationship with someone, anyone, romantic or otherwise, and i 100% trusted that they had my best interest at heart and that they loved me as much as Christ loves the church, why wouldn't i trust them to make a decision that affected both of us?
the idea of 'servant leadership' (every milliganite's ears just perked) is a very christian idea, and one that is a bit foreign to those many of those not committed to that faith. this concept of leading someone by serving them - leading them into selflessness and love by showing it to them - is not exactly a Wall Street key to success. therefore, when we speak of 'submission,' minds automatically think of being stepped on, not of being raised up. this submission that i speak of, and that i think the Bible speaks of, is a (somewhat-in our better moments) natural response to overwhelming love. if a husband's 'leadership' is one of sacrifice and love (Christ), then the wife's submission is similar, is it not? one might call this relationship one of mutual submission.
it is a problem of language. if this person who may or may not be punching me in the face (see earlier paragraph) saw a marriage dedicated to these principals of love and submission, i don't think they would find it misogynistic at all. i think they would find it beautiful. it's only when this relationship is described that there are problems - there is no way to say submission without tempting your audience to pull out their copy of the Emancipation Proclamation.
i am only instructed to practice this 'submission' to my husband (should i ever have one). therefore, this is NOT a statement on the way women and men should interact, only husbands and wives.
men and women are different. they are equal, but different. sometimes i think that we get caught up fighting for women to be equal to men, that we find ourselves fighting for women to be the same as men. i don't want to be the same as a man. i want to be a woman. so, i should accept that because we are different, there are important things that i can offer a husband (should i ever have one) that are less important that he offer me, things that he will value more than i will. i haven't really figured out what all of these things are, mostly due to lack of experience. i have observed, however, that maybe men need more to feel respected, trusted and reliable, whereas women need more to feel valued, appreciated and loved. so maybe this submission/love type of relationship helps cater to the needs of both sexes. who knows. i could be way off - like i said, a lack of experience.

well, i think that's about it. my identity crisis is not over, but i am making progress. hopefully these things will help me avoid drowning in an angry sea and/or being punched in the face.

how did i get here?

2009-05-09T12:07:00.003-04:00

it's funny how tricky life can be.

in some moments, i feel completely in on top of my life - everything i do, everything that happens is voluntary and constructive.

in other moments, in moments that pass more slowly and prove more consuming, i feel a victim. i feel as though the world just happens to me without any regard for what i want from it - and i can't remember a time when i didn't feel this way.

i fear that i have slipped into the second moments as of late. i'm not sure why. i think much of it has to do with things coming to an end - the past couple of years has been filled with things coming to an end, and i think i've been worn down. i'm tired of things ending before i'm completely ready. sure, i've learned that i am never really 'ready' to let go of good things, and if i kept them that long, i wouldn't remember them so fondly. but still, there is a part of me - the mourning part - that has done it's share recently, and is trying to quit, though that just seems to intensify this mourning sensation.

oscar begat (the band i've been playing with for the past 2 or 3 years) is no more - sort of. as it has existed, it is no more. the name may appear again, but will most likely never represent what it has. i thought i was ready to let this go. i will certainly miss playing shows like that (how else will i get people to look at me?), but i think the reason that my 'mourning bone' is quaking under the pressure is that not everyone involved in this dissolution seems to be mourning as much as i, or even at all.

i know i've written before about my codependence, and here it is again - i'm sad because not everyone cares about something as much as i want them to. that's all. are my feelings hurt? yes. am i taking it personally? yes. can i appreciate that all of this may be a tad ridiculous? yes. does that change the way i feel? no.

i'm not even sure why i'm writing about this. oh yeah, i write to be rid of things : )

i want to be done with it without confrontation, so i'll write about it here.

why i'd sometimes rather not be called a Christian

2009-04-29T09:45:00.008-04:00

i love the Bible. i think it's full of divinely-inspired ideas to help us live our best lives. however, when i see how some people interpret the Bible, it both devastates and terrifies me.
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(if you would like to know what, exactly, this blog is in direct response to, please read this article: Rebranding Hate in the Age of Obama. apparently, the coming-to-office of a intelligent, articulate, popular African American has brought about a surge of Bible-fueled racism. really?)
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in the Bible (NASV), the word 'love' is used 320 times.
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the word 'hate' is used 90 times.
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in the New Testament (where Jesus' life is), the word 'love' is used 189 times.
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in the New Testament (where Jesus' life is), the word 'hate' is used 12 times.
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(courtesy of biblegateway.com)
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i'm not here to discount the Old Testament - certainly there is much to be gleaned from Israel's colorful history and the ongoing efforts of people to commune with God (something we've yet to perfect). be that as it may, i cannot deny that the New Testament has a certain special relevance, a voice into my life that speaks words a bit different than many of those from the Old Testament. Jesus himself said (in Matt. 5):
-

43"You have heard that it was said,

'YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR

and hate your enemy.'
44"But I say to you,

love your enemies

and pray for those who persecute you.

though these are only two verses out of an abundance of text, this idea of putting ones own grievances aside in order to show love to those for whom hate naturally rises, saturates the teachings of Jesus (the man for whom this faith is named, by the way). i could copy and paste a hundred or more verses into this blog, in which we are compelled to show love to everyone (especially those we consider enemies), but i will not.

the point of all of this is to express my bewilderment at the ability of people (fellow Christians) to take this book and build hate on it: racism, sexism, homophobia, general judgement on the 'thous' who are not 'holy'. how do they do it? how do they live lives devoted to God that embody the opposite of the thing that permeates the heart of God (love, in case you weren't paying attention)?

more importantly, how do i do it? what things in my life, what ideas, opinions, lifestyle choices, judgements, etc., do i continually uphold in the unfounded belief that they are godly? scary, right? i don't believe that these members of KKK offshoots believe that they are in direct opposition to the will of God, though I believe they are. could the same be said about me?

these are the times that i begin to think that the Roman Catholic Church of the middle ages had it right - only learned, holy, clergy-people should be able to read the Bible and then tell the rest of us what it means. sure, some have argued that the corruption of the church in that era surpasses that of any other time or place - church+simony+the plague+docetism+state=general licentiousness, to describe the tip of the iceberg - but i think there is something to be said for a bit of discrimination when it comes to Biblical exegesis.

i suppose the biggest problem is that, for every single person who opens the Bible (or visits biblegateway.com), there is a different set of lenses through which the text is seen. no wonder there are thousands of (sometimes feuding) denominations. i guess the only thing we can do is recognize our own prejudices, and pray for clear vision. example: if i knew that i had a tendency toward homophobia, i would say to myself 'self, try not to read your own homophobia into the Bible'. and then i would say to God, 'God, please help me see/hear your words clearly, apart from my own biases.' if every Christian (including myself) practiced this sort of honest pursuit of truth, abandoning tradition and convention, if necessary, i think that there would be less times that i would rather not be called a Christian.

beautiful baptist babies

2009-04-20T12:41:00.005-04:00

the blog title may or may not make sense when you've read this, but i am a sucker for alliteration.

i have had a few blog ideas floating around in my head for a while, but haven't sat down and written them. ideally, they would have come at three very different times, each fully developed, written and posted before the next arrived, but here we are. they are very different, too: one is reflective/spiritual, one is more creative/subject to your own interpretation, and the other is a bit political/ecclesiastical. i'm just going to write them all here, now. that's right, it's a three-for-the-price-of-one sort of deal, except there is no actual currency involved, just thoughts and reading . . .

--------------------------------------

i do not have children. but i do, from time to time, take responsibility for my two young nieces. they are dears and i love them very much. there are, however, times when they are in my care that i am grateful that i do not have children.

one of these times was just this past week. i was babysitting, and, like the fun aunt that i am, letting them watch a new movie that nana had given them for easter. we were watching it in the 'back house' (not their house, though only a yard away - not yard as in the measurement, yard as in a grassy knoll). anyway, one of the girls (who will remain nameless, to protect her sparkling reputation) was being particularly whiny, even though, as I saw it, she should have been enjoying herself thoroughly.

from time to time, when she would express herself in an inappropriate manner, i would threaten to cut her movie-viewing short and bring her back to her house. these threats bounced right off of her grumpy little aura and it soon came time for me to prove that i was serious.

i threw her over my shoulder and carried her home.

she was displeased.

in her defence, she had been sick, it was getting late, and she is only 4 years-old (her anonymity is slipping).

i did feel bad, but i needed her to know what acceptable behavior was and was not. in fact, i tried to reason with her - telling her that if she was obedient, calmed down, brushed her teeth and put on her pjs, then i would take her back to finish the movie. these offers, like the earlier threats, went unheard. i could hardly hear them myself, above the crying.

in the end, i sat on her bedroom floor, watching her stand with her fists clenched toward the floor and her open mouth toward the ceiling, as if she were about to take-off.

eventually (after about 45 minutes), she stopped crying , apologized and was as cute as ever, but i couldn't shake her tantrum.

i love her. she knows i love her and she loves me. the terrible woe that had befallen her was of her own doing, but she built a sort of wall between us for those 45 minutes. she did not want my help or comfort, even resented it. there really was nothing i could do until she decided to warm up.

i was effected by this because, as i watched her in her out-of-control state, i couldn't help but see myself.

i know that many people don't get christianity, or why anyone would commit themselves to such a thing, but i think, in it's most timeless, simplest form, christianity is just a relationship with the Creator. that's all. kind of like being a sister is always just a relationship with a sister - something you can't really be rid of, but the nature of which, you can control.

what does this have to do with caelia (anonymous no more)? well, i can't help but think that what i experienced was a bit like what God experiences. i just wanted to give her good things, and then comfort her, help her make the best of the situation she had tainted, but she wouldn't let me do any of it.

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i wanted to tell her how pretty she looked. and she did look pretty. her hair fell perfectly and it's dark hue framed her fair face and light eyes with stunning precision. her make-up was bright, but she wore it well. her green dress fit close around her body, and her dainty shoes lengthened her graceful stance.

she was beautiful. maybe more beautiful than i had ever seen her.

but i couldn't say so.

i was too hurt. i still am too hurt. i smiled and nodded, wishing that such trivial gestures could carry with them all that i meant to say. all that i wanted her to know.

to tell her she was beautiful would be to pretend that these compliments were the most important things i had for her. they were not. they probably never will be because my mouth would never form those words - forever frozen, bound by chains of inner conflict.

and so, i will see her again. she will be beautiful. maybe even more beautiful, but i will not say it. it will not be able to say it. it seems a crime to let such loveliness go unpraised, especially in one for whom i have such love. it seems a crime indeed. but many more crimes have been committed before this one, and it is these crimes that close my mouth full of honesty into a sweet smile.

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evangelical christianity.

let us, just for a moment, compare christian denominations to ice cream flavors. i love vanilla ice cream. i think it's great. it's tasty, it's trusty and i know what i'm getting. but, i would never pretend that vanilla ice cream is the only flavor of ice cream worth trying. if i were to decide that it's vanilla or nothing for me, then i would be viewed as ignorant and borderline masochistic. why would i ever deprive myself of the joy of other ice cream flavors? they have so much to offer - endless horizon-broadening potential. sherbets, for instance, promise a tangy, fruity bite - something that vanilla, in all it's deliciousness, couldn't hope to achieve. why would i forever deprive my pallet of such an experience?

i wouldn't. i shouldn't. i wont.

to be honest, and forgive me for being a bit dramatic, i have felt oppressed by evangelical christianity as of late. despite all of the wonderful things that it has to offer, sometimes i find it short-sighted and bound by conservation conventions that have questionable roots in scripture and seem to be in direct contention with the heart of God. beyond that, maybe it is just sort of oppression i would feel if i were to only ever eat vanilla ice cream - like i'm missing out on other great parts of the catholic (universal) church because i've found something that i like.

i have thought very seriously on and off over the past few years of joining the episcopal church. especially after my time spent in the anglican church (in england), i think it would be a good fit for me right now - it's physical reverence and routine devotion might be just what i need to recover from years of very emotional and, at times, narcissistic worship.

i'm still not sure. i really do like the church i attend now, and it has a relatively faint few of the things from which i seek refuge. who knows, maybe i wont ever leave, i will just keep talking about it. i suppose it's different if you admit that there is more out there and choose not to partake - better than pretending you've found all you need.

lilacs

2009-04-14T23:02:00.003-04:00

on saturday, i bought a small bottle of perfume that smells of lilacs.

i wear it.

i love it.

it makes me feel that, though the rest of my body is enjoying the beauty of spring in north carolina, my nose believes itself to be in new hampshire, where the lilac is the state flower, and its gentle, yet invigorating scent fills the air in the bright northeastern spring.

the scent makes me feel happy and new. there is something special about spring in a place where there is a real winter from which to recover. when those lilac bushes finally bloom, proving themselves unbroken by the months of frost, it refreshes the spirit. what can i not overcome, in the face of this delicate purple flower, one that is just as delightful as it was before the snows came? which of us can boast such resilliance?

i am told that there are lilacs in carrboro.

i must find them.

it's been 17 days

2009-04-10T12:07:00.003-04:00

oh my. it's been 17 days and i haven't posted anything.

you know what i blame? my job. i've been actually working all day, every day over the past few weeks. isn't that nuts? i know, i'm about to ask for a raise if i'm going to actually be doing things.

i jest, i jest. it's been nice, actually. i feel like a real professional, with real responsibilities who doesn't online shop more than the average real responsible professional.

there is a lull right now, and so, though i'm not particularly motivated to write, i will, just so i don't forget how.

there have been a few developments in my life:
i have health insurance for the first time, well, ever. so i've had an eye exam, a physical, and there's a dentist appointment on the books. i'm actually getting glasses for reading and computer stuff, apparently i'm far-sighted. who knew? i picked out these really hip banana republic glasses, but after being told their cost, i opted from some lovely little glasses out of the (not-labeled-this-way-but-i-assume) bargain drawer. they're nice, black and simple. i resisted the temptation to make gains in my life-long quest to appear intellectual and artistic by choosing simple frames. i think it's good for me.

i started going to classes at the gym - yoga first and now i've been to one 'body pump' class. i plan to go to more, but it's been 3 days since my first one, and i am just now able to walk up and down stairs without gripping the railing for my life. i'm hoping it will get easier as i get more ripped. i also went to a 'body jam' class because i like to dance. it was kind of fun, but full of middle-aged women who have been doing that same routine for months. i wasn't crazy about the choreography either. maybe i'll try a different instructor . . .

this happened a while ago, but i think it was pretty great and i never blogged about it: my lovely friend johannah and i, while she was here visiting, were the 'featured performers' at jack sprat's (a fun local bar) weekly open mic, which happened to fall on st. patrick's day. it was great fun. the guy running the thing (alex, i believe), plugged us between each act that preceded us, which was fun, we played a whole mini-set and even got paid a bit. it was johannah's first paying gig, and my first gig in nc that didn't involve any of my family members. it went well - everyone was already having a good time, so it was a good crowd to play for. johannah played some of her lovely original music (which can be found here: http://myspace.com/johannahswank), and i played a few covers: carey, by joni mitchell (for the second time at that venue, but i'm sure no one noticed), what if i stumble, by dc talk (which spurred the following conversation with a jovial young man up front -

young man: was that jars of clay?
me: no, dc talk, but you were close.
young man: i knew i heard it at church. what, are you trying to make me feel bad?
me: (laughing) that is not our intent. we're just here to have a good time.)

jo and i assisted each other with back-up vocals where we could, and overall, it was a great experience. playing with friends is always a lot of fun. just like playing with family, but different. i closed out the set with closing time, by semisonic, which was particularly fun because all of the responsibly-enjoying-their-alcohol folks sang along.

speaking of gigs, oscar begat had a show last week. i was not really that pumped about it. i don't know why. it was in durham on a thursday and it was a shortish set, so i didn't' really invite many people. sometimes those shows, those ones that i'm not that excited about, end up being some of the greatest. this was like that - there was a lot of energy and we just had a whole lot of fun. it made me sad in light of the impending dissolution of oscar begat, but i guess it's better to go out on a high note.

speaking of gigs, again, i went to a show at the pinhook in durham last friday: the last show of tooth, a wonderful durham-based metal band including my friend noah, the drummer, who is an animal once you get him behind a kit, and sometimes when you don't : )

i stood on a chair against the right wall of the venue so that i could see and so that i would not be moshed. i kind of felt like a mom, watching the mosh-pit. i was glad that everyone was having fun, but also very concerned for their safety. it was a great show, lots of energy and adoring fans.

an ending little story: i just joined goodreads.com. i sent an email to some people asking them to join goodreads.com too, so i can see what they're reading/have read/recommend. i started the email with 'i'm bored at work . . .'. i, without thinking, sent the email to my boss at her work email. that's all.

i grow a bit anxious

2009-03-24T14:18:00.003-04:00

i haven't posted recently. as time passes between posts, i grow increasingly anxious. why? umm. well, it's either because i'm afraid i'll lose readers (hah), or i'm afraid i've run out of things to say (hah hah).

but, in all seriousness, i think it's the latter.

i don't, this minute, have anything profound to say. in fact, it's arguable that i ever have anything profound to say. in any case, i'd like to thank everyone for all of the feedback i received concerning my last post. if you're a blogger and wonder if anyone reads your blog, write about gender issues and you'll find out pretty quick.

the response was generally positive, with some concerns here and there about my denial of gender differences (we'll stay away from 'roles') - i think i've come to an understanding with all those concerned, i think. (women and men are different, but equal.) if anyone would like to enlighten/challenge me further, please do, or i will, in fact, kick you in the shin :)

someone mentioned the rising generation of males' lack of respect for women - they called it heartbreaking. i would have to agree. though i think that the rising generation of people have a general lack of respect for most things - the elderly, the middle-aged, me, each other. they do respect what tv tells them to respect, which i wish included regular people, rather than only the rich, famous, powerful, beautiful and plastic. is this a development? i don't know. i suppose that as generations pass, civil propriety is less and less of a concern and the instant gratification promised by technology captures focus.

also, it seems that as these young men continue to disrespect women, the young women expect less, require less. which came first? i couldn't say, but none of it is good. if the men were to begin respecting more, perhaps the women would expect more, but it would work the other way too, presumably.

it's funny how scantily clad women singing and dancing in ways that some (I) might find inappropriate think of themselves as being empowering to women.

i read about this band (they will remain nameless, though i'm sure a quick google search would steal their anonymity). there are 4 or 5 of them - all women, and they play shows without shirts. in the article, they were quoted as saying that they do this to empower young women to be confident and comfortable with their bodies.

am i the only one who finds this to be ridiculous? they are beautiful, thin musicians, and they think that by taking off their clothes, they are going to make young women feel better about themselves? they get more attention for their lack of clothing than for their music, and this is supposed to be empowering women?

isn't that kind of what we've been working against for decades? (i'll stop with the rhetorical questions now.) no one was arguing that women are attractive without their shirts. people were arguing what women could offer with their shirts on. this (maybe) talented group of women would inspire me if they left their clothes on and made good music - innovative, truthful music. that would make me feel empowered as a women - to know that i could make it in the music industry based on hard work and talent and without sacrificing any clothing.

hmm. i promise that when i started this post, i wasn't going to write about anything except some inconsequential bits of information about my life - i spent a lovely week with my friend johannah, we played a fun little show, i'm selling my car, i'm looking for another car to buy, yaddah yaddah yaddah. and here i am, at the end of another tirade.

my apologies for your thoughts :)

katie vs. the south

2009-03-16T12:09:00.004-04:00

i grow weary of gender-role conversations.

i really do.

mostly because i hate feeling like a jerk, which is what always happens. i think it's because i'm misunderstood. i do not seek to batter kind men. that's not it at all. i'm not here to kick any man in the shin who even thinks about opening a door for me, or not allowing me to do manual labor.

thank you, kind men, for your kind deeds. it is not your actions against which i argue.

for some of you (and some of you women too) - it is your motivations, your thinking, your mindset.

i am 100% for acting kind, loving and courteous towards members of the opposite sex. that's very nice. i am not, however, willing to accept that these gestures are necessary or expected because you are a man and i am a woman. i do not want that door held for me (though i promise not to kick anyone in the shin) if it is because you are a man and i am a woman, i want it held for me because we are two human beings and you are showing kindness and consideration.

if i hold a door for a man out of this same kindness and consideration, i do not want to be looked at as if i am some sort of terrorist seeking the demise of the american family. i am not. i am simply seeking equality and understanding, love, humility, selflessness, and everything else that can be developed through remembering to serve others.

i think that my perspective is a bit unique because i have been rather independent for a very long time - no boyfriends carrying things or fixing my sink. now that i am in the south, men often offer to do things like walk me to my car, even when it's not very far and the journey is through a populated parking lot. i feel awkward when this happens, and i act awkwardly, and then the man rolls his eyes because he knows i am one of 'those girls' (the terrorist kind). this saddens me. i don't mean to be awkward and ungrateful. men, think of if every time we ate together, i offered to cut your food. that would seem awkward and unnecessary, right? sort of like i was treating you like a child? well, that's what these little gestures feel like to me.

(further more, if i were to offer to walk another female to her car, i would get the same terrorist look, as well as the awkward and unnecessary look. why? i think that i would be able to provide as much safety as many a man. if you're getting attacked, having another person around, be they man or woman, would be rather helpful, would it not?)

i'm working on being more accepting of these things, but it would be easier for me to do so, if i felt confident in the thoughts behind them.

let me reiterate that i am not calling for the cessation of all chivalric behavior, or any chivalric behavior. all i wish to challenge, is the thought behind it. i don't mind if a man offers to carry something heavy for me. he's probably stronger than me, so that makes sense. i'm not saying i wont offer to cook something for a man, if there's a good chance i'll be better at it. i would also offer to cook something for a woman, if there's a good chance i'll be better at it. this shouldn't be offensive, just like it shouldn't be offensive for a stronger man to offer to carry something for a not-so-strong man. we are all people with different abilities, largely disconnected to our genders. let us offer them up accordingly and offer little things out of love and not out of duty.

please, don't consider yourself kicked in the shin.

share your thoughts.

much love.

knowing is half the battle?

2009-03-10T12:18:00.003-04:00

they say this - that knowing is half the battle. presumably, if one is aware of a problem, they are half way to solving it. i'm not too sure about this.

i've been thinking about this lately because, in this fun new world of adulthood, i've been becoming aware of many things about myself. knowing doesn't seem to bring me any closer to a solution. maybe it's different for everyone. i've always been pretty self-aware, which is good, but that doesn't mean i'm good at self-improvement. one would think that since i am aware of my troubles, i would be able to fix them more readily. this is not the case. i could list several things that i know hinder me from the life i want, but i don't really feel much closer to change.

most recently, all of this applies to my undeniable codependent tendencies. i think i've decided that this demon must be conquered over and over again. i've conquered it before, in certain relationships, but that does not mean it is out of me, or even make it any easier to win the battle in other relationships.

i'm a middle child. i've been called a 'fixer' more times than i can count, and even a 'meddler' more times than i care to remember. it's all out of love, but that doesn't make it healthy, or even selfless. i guess it comes down to trust, dependence. i'm finding more and more that most of my problems stem from pride and binding self-sufficiency. i don't trust people to make wise decisions on their own. i don't believe that God can care for people as well as i can. it hurts me. i hurt me by believing these things and doing these things.

solution? i'm not sure yet. i know that my care for other people is a gift, a strength, but will only reach its full potential if it is surrendered to the Gifter. i suppose it's like anything else - any good thing can be a harmful thing if left in the wrong hands. clearly, mine are the wrong hands.

let them be clean

2009-03-03T10:07:00.004-05:00

i was reading last night in acts. i was reading in acts 10 and something struck me in this description of peter's vision:

11He saw heaven opened and something like a large sheet being let down to earth by its four corners. 12It contained all kinds of four-footed animals, as well as reptiles of the earth and birds of the air. 13Then a voice told him, "Get up, Peter. Kill and eat." 14"Surely not, Lord!" Peter replied. "I have never eaten anything impure or unclean." 15The voice spoke to him a second time,

"Do not call anything impure that God has made clean."

now, like everything else in the bible, this passage has a very important historical context (jews, mosaic law, gentiles, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah), but what struck me is the the part that i have so conveniently set apart in red.

this line spoke to me because there is something very specific in my life on which i have completely given up, something that i can't even imagine fixed, something i have have, very simply, called impure. in fact, only an hour or two before i read this, i was explaining to someone else, someone with more faith in the situation than me, why i have a hard time believing for rectification , why i find myself wanting only permanent brokenness, because my mind cannot conjure an image of wholeness.

i'm sure i'm not alone in this - when some person or situation very close to us, causes so much pain to us and/or to those we love, we just want it to end. we want the dying animal dead because we cannot imagine a world in which it were healthy and well again. it hurts us too much to hope for something that seems so far, so utterly impossible.

it is so much easier to ask God for the things we can easily imagine coming true, things we might actually be able to accomplish ourselves, naturally. these things are easy because we call them an exercise in faith, when really, we knew all along that the chances of success were very good. believing God for something we think is impossible - that's something different. there, we have something to loose, we leave ourselves vulnerable to hurt and disappointment.

and so, i am dipping my toe in the pool of real faith. i don't like it. it makes me uncomfortable. i would rather not do it.

but, i do want to learn to trust, to have real faith, to depend on something other than my own ability.

i do not want to call the things that God has made clean, impure.
i want to call them clean.
i am, after all, one of those things.

weekend update

2009-03-02T11:07:00.001-05:00

it rained and rained.

i love to live in a place where there are many green things and grass and dirt, but the loveliness of my yard melts when it rains too much. i find myself sinking en route to my car, and making a giant leap over a mud bath, always hoping to land safely in my driver's seat. i haven't failed yet, but i dread the day.

though the rain dampened my spirits during these house-to-car trips (dampened, get it?), it was a good weekend.

friday, i worked both jobs. it was a long day, but the two workplaces are so very different, it was not tedious. hosting on a busy friday night does give one a sense of control amidst undeniable chaos. i like that.

after work, i had a handful of co-workers over for some drinks and some rock band. it was a good time.

saturday was la-hong (long). i woke up late, went to the raleigh farmers market for the first time. it was a pleasant trip, made more pleasant after my honey-stick purchase.

after the farmers market, i went to choir practice, then a worship-band rehearsal for a 'global impact celebration' youth service, then the service itself. then, i went home to get ready for the oscar begat show.

i always have a hard time figuring out what to wear to these things. i like to be all fun and rock-star, but my wardrobe is a little short on rock-star attire, so i have be creative. once i was relatively satisfied, i went to the venue.

whenever we have a show, there is always a big rush to get to the venue on time, and then we wait. marco and i were the last to arrive (about 9pm). we did basically nothing except eat our free food and drink our free drinks. we didn't play until about 11:30/12am. the opening band was on at 10, so we watched them (Brett Harris) and basically just hung out and talked about how many of the musicianny men around were definitely wearing pants smaller than mine. i tried to cope.

by the time we finally went on, a crowd of my fellow restauranteers had showed up. i was very excited to see them all there - being still kind of new to the area, i don't usually have a great 'katie section' at shows. i felt so loved and supported.

the show went relatively well. we were missing my dad (ronnie d) and so there were no guitar solos or lead guitar rifts. that was a bit sad, but the show went on. i played 'carey' by joni mitchell solo (as promised), and, after botching the first few lines and decidedly lowering expectations, pulled it off rather well, if i do say so myself. it was fun to have people to sing to :)

i needed to be at church the next morning at 8am. we didn't finish playing until 1:30am. this made for my second night in a row of getting to bed past 2am. i set my alarm for 7:30 and went to bed. to my chagrin, dismay and several other negative sentiments, i woke up at approximately 1:30pm. oh my. i slept through my alarm so long that it had apparently given up. unbelievable. i know that it went off because alisha later confirmed that she heard it from across the room. i quickly wrote an apologetic email to the choir director, for there was nothing else to be done.

despite the fact that i had slept through my rehearsal and both services, i felt wonderful. it seemed that i needed to rest.

i had lunch at the commune annex (marco and courtney's house) with them and mr. john bone. we had an interesting conversation about Godly decision-making, about whether or not there is always a right and a wrong answer. the more we talked, the more complicated the questions became - free will, perfect will, salvation, sanctification. soon we decided that it was always important to be sensitive to the leading of the Spirit, but beyond that, we were content to say 'i don't know'. well, at least i was. i don't have much of a problem leaving things at that. if i knew everything, then i would be God, but i'm not, so why pretend?

after lunch, the day progressed - cleaning, trader joe's, more cleaning, salad-making, more cleaning, clue (with suzanne on the webcam), prayers for a snow day, bubble bath, sleep.

this morning, i awoke to a bright, white north carolina. it's absolutely beautiful. i wasn't mad that the snow had weighed the bamboo plants so that they completely blocked the staircase from my room. i zipped up my fluffy white jacket and forced my way through the snowy jungle. i wasn't mad that my car was covered in snow, and me, late and without a brush/scraper. i wasn't made when i was driving to work, still essentially inside of a snowball, with limited vision - every lane-change an adventure. i was a little mad that it wasn't a snow day, but there's something ethereal about a snow-laden landscape, something that makes me smile.

all of this brings me to right now. i'm at my job, at my desk. i spent the morning drinking coffee and reading grapes of wrath. i intend to spent the afternoon the same way : )

for the sake of suspense

2009-02-26T10:39:00.001-05:00

i wrote before about how i was at least planning to plan something different for my future. when i wrote that, i actually had an idea in mind, but i didn't write it because the blog was already getting a bit lengthy, i was curious to see if anyone had any great ideas for my life (thank you kenny-moving to nh to play and sing is more than tempting. oh how i miss the strange brew, and you guys, of course:) and i thought it would be more dramatic if a slight pause happened, a time to dwell on these exciting new prospects without committing to one idea.

well, the pause may be over. i really think that i want to move to south/central america to teach. my lovely roommate alisha is on board and my sister (pending her acceptance/non-acceptance into unc chapel hill) may still be in costa rica when all of the plans that i have yet to make come to fruition.

because i'm such a big fan of the bulletted/numbered outline, these are the reasons that i think south/central america is the place for me . . .

i know some, but i want to learn to speak spanish like a pro. (though that would cause problems at my restraunt job when my usual method of evasion is 'no comprendo, lo siento'.)
i want to meet and marry a beautiful latino man who will salsa dance his way into my heart and then have beautiful salsa-dancing children.
i did the europe thing (which i absolutely loved) and so i think that living in a different culture that is different from the different culture in which i have already lived would be a good experience.
it's warm and pretty.
my sister may be there.

i haven't done a whole lot of research yet. (i don't plan to go until the late summer/fall.) but i did find this school in san jose that looks like a cool opportunity: http://www.teachabroad.com/listingsp3.cfm/listing/41927

that's all, i just wanted to keep you posted on my schemes. if you know of any great organizations/programs/etc., that i might be able to help with my numerous skills (hah), then please let me know.

much love and a happy thursday.

i pester

2009-02-24T19:23:00.001-05:00

i beg you to know what is going on in my life because i am human. it is the reason we all tell too many stories that are too long and which we know those around us care little about. we just want to be known, understood. keeping that in mind, here are some little things about my life right now that i want you to know:

my room is an absolute disaster. it's odd because i like my room to be clean, and i have had the time to clean it, but have simply refused.
i have become a sort of gym rat. not necessarily because i like the gym, or working out. in fact, i still think that those people who list 'working out' as an 'interest' should have their heads examined. i do it, however, because it is a part of personal improvement that i have failed to master in the past. i don't think that it is something i will do forever, but it is a good experience, i think.
my car is broken - it runs, but has an unindentifiable electrical problem that may cause the alternator and thereby the battery to die without warning. so, i drive my sister's car, but it too is unhealthy. it leaks oil, a lot. i put a quart in about every two days. i also just put a whole gallon of windshield wiper fluid into the appropriate container under the hood (i had no idea it could hold so much!) only to find that the passenger side 'squirter' is broken, and the driver's side 'squirter' reaches about a quarter of the way up the window. i am now glad that i did not spring for the 'rain-x'.
i'm reading grapes of wrath.
i've become a bit of a water-drinker. a half-gallon per day on average (between the hours of 9 and 5), which is a lot for me - i don't drink much else.
i've really come to enjoy my roommate, alisha. we never really planned to be roommates, it just happened, and i'm glad : )
i still love waiting tables. i wish i did it more. i now host about as much, sometimes more, than i serve, but that's fun (though less lucrative) too because i get to dress up. i wish i had more reasons to dress up.
i recently got my first real, went-to-a-real-hip-salon-and-paid-for-it-haircut and i like it. i color my hair about once a monthish for fun. i'm thinking of going lighter again, for a change, and growing out my bangs again, for a change.
i really, very much love to sing. i've been practicing some covers with my big baby taylor and may be playing some solo at the next oscar begat show (saturday).
i often look at the 'missed connections' section on craigslist and hope that someone is looking for me, i just think it would be fun and romantic.
i work right next to target and go there WAY too often. i don't know what i buy, but i do know that i spend far too much money at the lovely store with the round, red, logo.

well, that's all i can think of right now, but i'm sure i'll post more random things occasionally. if there is anything that you'd like me to know, any seemingly trivial developments in your life that don't quite fit into a conversation, or on a facebook wall, now's the time. comment away : )

new seasons new seasons

2009-02-23T14:38:00.001-05:00

my first thought was that i was wrong. i was embarassed. this is the trouble with blogging - expressing your thoughts in a public arena - when you write wrong or ridiculous ideas in your journal and then realize you are wrong, no one need know. it's as if it never happened. reputation unscathed. here, it is different. sure, not many people read this, but knowing that many people could read this, if they were so inclined, makes me feel the same as if they did.

don't stop reading. i do intend to explain myself.

i wrote, not too long ago, about my life and how i 'do plenty'. the entire post was dedicated to my own vindication, to the satisfaction of my guilt for leading a less-than-remarkable life. since then, i've decided that i was wrong, that it is not okay to live a life unsatisfying. and since that decision was made, i've settled on new sentiments:

i was not wrong in my previous blog - those statements still stand, or at least have been re-erected after destruction upon further consideration. (to summarize: my life here, now is great and wonderful and not to be thought ill of due to its routine or stasis.)

i am not there (certainly at least some months from there), but i can see the place where the purposes for this season of life will be accomplished to a point of general satisfaction.

therefore, it is okay, nay, necessary for me to begin planning for my next season, it's paths and purposes.

i am freed and excited.

how did i come to these new conclusions? i'm glad you asked . . .

i have become increasingly unattached to my day job. though i enjoy my co-workers and have also enjoyed learning about the educational publishing industry, a few different things have drastically lessened my desire to remain employed here for a long period of time.

currently, i do very little at my job. well, very little related to publishing college textbooks. i spend a great deal of time on craigslist. though this is great fun (if you haven't looked around craigslist - personals, 'best of craigslist', etc. - you're missing out), it makes me feel as though i am wasting precious time in my young life.

i once thought that it was a promotion that i wanted, that would solve all of my problems - more money (perhaps), more responsibility, more ownership, more tasks to fill my day, at the very least. that is no longer my belief. i work very closely with those in the position to which i would be promoted. they are smart, able individuals and yet their jobs provide them with a blend of uncertainty and urgency that makes me very uneasy, even from a distance.

earned wages from the 6 jobs i had this year, a tax return, a small car-accident (possibly a product of divine intervention) insurance settlement - all of these things combined will soon put me in an adequate financial situation. federal students loans can be deferred for any number of things, right?

i want to go back to school, not begin working my way up any ladder - corperate or otherwise. therefore, i do not need to worry about making my serial job situation look better by staying here at least one year, as long as i leave this job in order to do something that will improve the look of my future grad-school applications.

i must admit that i was partially inspired to make this decision (the decision to start making other decisions) by a church service. before you roll your eyes and close this window, hear me out. the speaker was the head of a church in Transnistria. he simply shared about the ministry there and the obstacles that have overcome - the great strides that have been made to house orphans and bring religious freedom to the citizens of the new and volatile nation.

i couldn't help but think that i had allowed myself to be a prisoner of my circumstances. i thought that i couldn't, anytime in the near future, go anywhere or do anything slightly radical because of my financial situation. suddenly, in light of the miraculous events about which i had been told, debt seemed so small. God wants the orphans to be cared for in Transnistria, and for their people to be free, and so God helped Yuri (the pastor) and his associates overcome those things which could not be overcome.

so, i realized, if God wants some other good done, and i volunteer to do it, then i should not worry about the obstacles that appear to hinder me. my chains are so small next to those from which i have seen others so easily freed, so why do i doubt? i think it comes down to control - i want to control my life and i want to know how things will be done. if i have debt, i want to know how it will be paid, cent for cent. that is the problem with us responsible, independent, in control, able people - we can't stand to be otherwise.

i want to be otherwise.

if we never surrender control, we will never free God within us to accomplish things that we cannot accomplish naturally.

this blog is long, so i will stop. i am looking for ideas - things to do, now that i am free to do them. please let me know if you have any suggestions. i hope that this new venture will include some combination of the following:

travel

ministry (church-related or otherwise)

music

learning (a language, perhaps?)

mystery . . . adventure . . . romance : )

thanks for reading

music for the miserable?

2009-02-12T09:39:00.002-05:00

i've just seen an add for an article entitled 'music for the miserable' and one of the featured artists was joni mitchell. now, before i go on to defend her, let me be honest and say that i wouldn't call myself intimately familiar with all of her work - mostly the blue album and selected other songs. but, i do have a mix cd in my car right now - one that i have been listening to for days, and one that i, myself, made with care - with several of her songs on it. this is not one of those mix cds that one makes with sweet, satisfying sadness in mind, either. i know, i've made several of those. in fact, written on the topside of the cd in silver sharpie is the title 'sunny day ladies'!

now that i've convinced you that joni mitchell is not, at least not in my mind, depressing, let me tell you why i love her. her music is unique, honest and tells stories over the whole spectrum of human emotion- some might be characterized as sad, but what human has no experiences of sadness? no one that i've ever met. (hopefully that's not a reflection of my effect on people : / ) further more, others of her pieces, i would characterize as downright playful.

let me use this joni mitchell discussion to segway into a somewhat related topic - music snobbery. i can't stand it. now, i'm sure that i have done my fair share of judging people based on their 'music' section on facebook, but in my heart of hearts, i want my ears to be ignorant of nothing. why? well, because i think that music is an excellent avenue for human expression, and that every song betrays some sort of real human emotion or experience, despite how shallow, deep, cliche, or unique that emotion or experience might be. for every genre, there is a group of people who sit in their cars and think "they get me, this artist totally gets me". so, if i deny myself a particular genre completely, then i am saying to that group of people - "your feelings aren't real and they don't deserve my consideration". what i am encouraging here and what i probably don't do a very good job of myself, is a well-rounded understanding of the art form and how it relates to all people.

i am not innocent. let me be candid here - i do not like country music because i find it vapid and cliche. i do not like some rap/pop music because it hurts my feminine heart. i do not like some harder music because it hurts my human heart. those things being as they are (admittedly horrid generalizations), i cannot deny that there are real people who connect with those things.

(i do enjoy much pop music; not necessarily for its emotional clarity, but for its singability and dancability. i refused to have this taken from me, or from anyone else by music elitists. music can and should sometimes be fun and only fun.<(period) because life itself can and should sometimes be fun and only fun - it's good for the human spirit.) i like (most of) my art true and beautiful (with the exception of the occasional guilty-pleasure-on-the-radio-solo-dance-party-in-my-car and other such blissful frivolity), but i acknowledge that it is my truth and my beauty that i seek. if i do not share these things with another person, i cannot expect them to value the same anything, including art. this brings me back to joni mitchell. do not judge her, or me for listening to her. i am not miserable, i just like what i like and "you're a mean old daddy, but i like you." : )

p.s. that last one was from 'cary' by joni mitchell, hopefully appearing at an open mic night near you. (i'm working on it).

i recorded this song today (7/1/10), almost a year and a half after this post was written, and thought it appropriate to add the video. i'm not sure if this is a blogging faux pas. i hope not. i hate those.

23

2009-02-11T10:28:00.001-05:00

yesterday, the 23rd year of my life ended. in this blog, inspired by alisha, i will recall triumphs and dissapointments of the year, and hopes for the 24th year of my life on which i embark today.

things i accomplished in the 23rd year:

graduating from college
writing, self-publishing and distributing a book (of sorts - stories can be found here:http://oxfordblunders.blogspot.com)
submitting said book for publication and being offered a contract
choosing not to accept said contract for artistic purist reasons :)
seeing the weddings of a best friend and a brother
settling into 2 jobs that i enjoy
paying parental debt/rent/cell phone/car insurance/student loan bills for the first, second, third . . . . times
playing several successful shows with oscar begat
finding a new church
writing a script and narrating for a short film (http://skunkophilia.blogspot.com/2009/01/shaving.html)
taking my neices to their first play and throwing their first slumber party

things i wish i hadn't accomplished in the 23rd year:

graduating from college
being rejected from teach for america
moving so far away from some of the people i love the most
having 6 different jobs
being fired twice
seeing the decline/death of my laptop and automobile
seeing the weddings of a best friend and a brother
missing a wedding in michigan, and a chance to see my kindred oxonians

things i hope to accomplish in the 24th year

buying a car (maybe a computer, but probably not. i know these are 'hopes', but let's be serious)
paying off parental/credit cardal debt completely
writing a song
keeping both jobs that i enjoy
taking the GRE at least once
reading good books
going back to europe, at least for a bit
making plans to move or being accepted to grad school in NC
going on a date : )
going to california
growing my hair super-hippie-long
submitting my short stories to a literary magazine
playing out by myself

i guess i could go on and on for any of these lists, but i'll stop here.

thank you for everyone who made this 23rd year of my life a great one, and to all of those who will make the next one even better : )

if you have any additions to any of my lists, please let me know.

her battle within

2009-02-08T23:03:00.001-05:00

being a person who has never really dated, i don't pretend to be an expert on the subject. in fact, i claim to know nothing for sure, despite the wealth of information that i have gathered of the past 23 years, watching other relationships - i feel that, though it may be true and insightful in my head right now, it will help me very little in future practice.

that being said, i wish only to comment on my own struggle as i interact with the opposite sex. i find myself ever-wavering between the longing to be wholly desired and the need to be truly respected. some of you may not see these as mutually exclusive, but i promise you that there is an argument to make to that effect - at least considering the behavior of men in this day and age. ideally, of course, i would find myself in a relationship where i am certain of my partner's respect and attraction to me, but as it stands right now, i am single, and, depending on the day, the hour, or the minute, i strive for one or the other, not always seeing a simultaneous pursuit as an option.

now, if you are a man and are convinced that i am fostering a vivid delusion, let me put your mind at rest and our relationship right by saying that of course i know that it is possible to achieve both of these things without adopting a second identity. what i really mean to draw attention to is the trouble with being a perpetually single woman. (this could very well be the plight of non-single women as well, but i can only speak from my experience).

i can't deny my need to feel beautiful, nor do i want to - i believe that this is an innately human, or at least innately feminine trait. however, i am also continually reminded that those woman who are considered the most beautiful are those who spend a great deal of time and concern becoming that way at the gym or the cosmetics counter (save a lucky few). thereby, my subconscious is trained as to the importance of my appearance. my time spent may begin to reflect this, but my good conscience quickly provides guilt at such vanity. another wonderful cycle - what is a girl to do?

let me take this opportunity to speak to my strapping, young brothers in Christ. if you love us, you will not put beautiful women with moral standards less than that which you expect of us on a pedestal, even in jest. it makes our lives difficult, makes it difficult for our minds to be pure and conflict free, and then you wonder why all women are so insecure. praise us for our modesty - it means much more than you might think. it is you, afterall, you that we are trying to protect.

(as a side note, i ask that you not pretend that you know what it is to be woman, just as we should not act as though we know what it is to be a man. we do not know your assailants and you do not know how the feminine heart is daily assaulted - what it is to be made to feel devalued by only an inappropriate passing glance, let alone the other, more creative and less discrete ways that some men make their intentions known.)

i want to be sensible, Godly, conscientious, wise, outwardly-focused, loving, but i was also designed to need my beauty as a woman noticed and praised. it would be easy enough to get my fix by getting dolled up and hitting 'the bar', but i don't think that was what God had in mind when Eve was created, and so i don't think that is what is intended for me.

i will press on. i will do my best, by the grace of God, to be a woman after the heart of God, a pure heart. it is not easy, and i do not doubt that i will, on occasion, fall to the temptation to pursue cheap admiration, but with prayer and the help of my brothers (especially my brothers) and sisters in Christ, i will make more progress and less mistakes as time goes by.

you do plenty

2009-02-06T10:04:00.001-05:00

what do i do?

i've been struggling as of late to try to answer this question, and many like it: what do i want to do? what should i do? what should i want to do?

do. what does that even mean? i just don't know. the whole thing is cyclical - being afraid of not having purpose, finding purpose, believing you'll be just fine, realizing you're not. i firmly believe that, as human beings, we have a deep need to feel like the things that we do every day matter. some people require less meaning, but we all need it in some form. i've found myself hard to please and forgetful.

i work, a lot. that is the core of my life in this season. i've accepted it, for the most part, but that doesn't stop me from feeling the guilt that one feels when they fall into thinking that their daily efforts help no one. i help myself, sure. i'm slowly crawling out of debt. of that, my parents are very proud. but i need more. i want more.

it is at this point in my thought process that i begin to remember other things about my life that must not be forgotten. for instance, my family. i am here for them in a way that i haven't been in a very long time - physically, geographically here.

i am learning, too. i am learning at my job, i am learning how to manage my time so that my jobs do not swallow me whole.

i play music. i even tread dangerously close to writing my own . . .

in short, i guess this whole post is for naught. i do plenty. it is not as glamorous as earning a degree, living abroad or any of the other things in which i have found peace in purpose over the past years, but it is plenty.

may i remember these thoughts, and how they must end - how much anxiety i give myself every day by allowing my life to be belittled. can i suspect that you might share this sentiment? we thirst for meaning so much, that we allow lies to seep into our minds, lies about our uselessness, followed by guilt about how our every day efforts help no one.

don't do it. don't believe it. you do plenty : )