Deep Thoughts

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.

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

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.

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?

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

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

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