"You gotta get it, while the gettins' good,"
comes to mind right now. Don't ask me why, I have no idea, but there it is.
A friend told me recently to "do something fun" and I realized, it's possible I may be so intense and going so hard right now that I'm not sure what fun is. I mean, I have some ideas. I feel like fun would be seeing the ninja turtles movie, and sneaking Carl's Jr. in my purse. Fun might be jumping off the cliffs over at Sunset Cliffs, right by the water. Fun might include a person, place, or thing. Or it might just be a state of mind.
Are you having fun yet? Are you gettin' it while the gettins' good?
I mean what is life really all about if we are not having any fun in between all the going to work and paying bills and sleeping in and listening to people argue. That's not a question, more like a rhetorical thought.
I'm getting ready to watch a 2 part mini-series about Harry Houdini on the History channel with my little cousin. No, he's not so little any more, and I have said that before and I'm just repeating myself for no reason.
I wonder if when Jesus was alive if He had anything fun He liked to do. Was it really just all retreating to desolate places and praying but then not getting to pray because He had to heal somebody who needed healin' and then when He wasn't healin' He was walking to the next town over to eat in a stranger's home and then do it all again the next day? I mean like, what about everything else?
What if He liked skinny-dipping in the moonlight? Or staying up late and making Indian calls with his disciples? Maybe they had their own version of Jenga back then. I don't know.
But my point is this--
Are you having fun yet?
Monday, September 1, 2014
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Sundays
Sundays are for relaxing. Except when they're not, and they're actually for working.
Sundays are for peeling your sunburn.
Sundays are for studying.
Sundays are for running down the street with a can of corn in one hand and a Thomas Kinkade calendar in the other.
Sundays mean waiting.
Sunday is for burying an idea so deep inside your heart, like a bad seed you had to swallow, and couldn't bear to choke, that when it finally planted itself where it belonged it grew and grew and grew into a massive tree of life that stemmed from your throat--and quit.
Sundays are for sadness.
Sundays are for princesses. They are for you. They are for me.
They hold onto the hope of what could be--between you, and I. The belief of knowing someone when you actually don't. The hurt and the understanding--of what is at stake. What could be and if it was what it would mean--really. We both understand what it could be, the pushing, and the pulling. The "something's gotta give" mentality with my legs crossed and your childish grin.
We decide to let it go.
Until next Sunday.
Sundays are for peeling your sunburn.
Sundays are for studying.
Sundays are for running down the street with a can of corn in one hand and a Thomas Kinkade calendar in the other.
Sundays mean waiting.
Sunday is for burying an idea so deep inside your heart, like a bad seed you had to swallow, and couldn't bear to choke, that when it finally planted itself where it belonged it grew and grew and grew into a massive tree of life that stemmed from your throat--and quit.
Sundays are for sadness.
Sundays are for princesses. They are for you. They are for me.
They hold onto the hope of what could be--between you, and I. The belief of knowing someone when you actually don't. The hurt and the understanding--of what is at stake. What could be and if it was what it would mean--really. We both understand what it could be, the pushing, and the pulling. The "something's gotta give" mentality with my legs crossed and your childish grin.
We decide to let it go.
Until next Sunday.
Monday, August 18, 2014
Bravery
My hands hurt at night.
I work day in, day out, with glasses. I type at computers and text on my phone. I move from screen to screen to screen. At the end of the day, my hands just hurt. Maybe it's part of getting older. Maybe it's part of real life and I just never noticed.
I realized today that there is a pattern in my life. Or the lie of my life.
I have to push aside every distraction just to say what it is. You see, I'm the kind of woman who can have anything she wants.
Except that one thing. The one thing I can't have.
No, it's not that someone else has it, and I want it because they have it already. It's different. It's another kind of pain. It's one that cannot be contained in sentences but we try to anyway.
The days are hot lately and the nights are too. I think it's the Summer's way of trying to have the last word in the conversation, even though we're the quiet ones.
My hands hurt.
I work day in, day out, with glasses. I type at computers and text on my phone. I move from screen to screen to screen. At the end of the day, my hands just hurt. Maybe it's part of getting older. Maybe it's part of real life and I just never noticed.
I realized today that there is a pattern in my life. Or the lie of my life.
I have to push aside every distraction just to say what it is. You see, I'm the kind of woman who can have anything she wants.
Except that one thing. The one thing I can't have.
No, it's not that someone else has it, and I want it because they have it already. It's different. It's another kind of pain. It's one that cannot be contained in sentences but we try to anyway.
The days are hot lately and the nights are too. I think it's the Summer's way of trying to have the last word in the conversation, even though we're the quiet ones.
My hands hurt.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Prepare for Shut Down
Probably what I miss most about living with my dad is him cooking breakfast for me. I just can't master cooking omelets like he can. Dads have a way of doing things only dads can do. No matter how good you get, they'll still be good-er. Why? Because they are dads.
I've been thinking. My problem is I'm just too graphic for what this world is accustomed to. I think Robin Williams must have felt that way too, some what. You can't be the life of the party all the time. Eventually you wear out. Of the party, and, yourself.
I just feel too graphic. Too sexual, too "look at me", too curious and concerned and contemplative of what other people think. I say things like,
"It doesn't matter if you don't like me because I already like me,"
which is just the Lonely talking. It's me trying to be bigger than I am. I am really so so small.
There is a verse in Hebrews where it says the Lord is not unable to sympathize with our weaknesses and our needs. He is a high priest, who can do a lot.
So what is your weakness? Is it wanting more than you have?
Maybe you feel like you sold out on your dreams to fix glasses instead. Oh wait, that's just me.
Maybe you carry a deep dark secret that's not that dark and not that deep but still sucks because it defines how you see yourself on a daily basis.
Maybe you have a blister on your pinky toe the size of Minneapolis. Oh wait. That's just me too.
My point is this--do I have one?
How determinedly unhappy are you?
I've been thinking. My problem is I'm just too graphic for what this world is accustomed to. I think Robin Williams must have felt that way too, some what. You can't be the life of the party all the time. Eventually you wear out. Of the party, and, yourself.
I just feel too graphic. Too sexual, too "look at me", too curious and concerned and contemplative of what other people think. I say things like,
"It doesn't matter if you don't like me because I already like me,"
which is just the Lonely talking. It's me trying to be bigger than I am. I am really so so small.
There is a verse in Hebrews where it says the Lord is not unable to sympathize with our weaknesses and our needs. He is a high priest, who can do a lot.
So what is your weakness? Is it wanting more than you have?
Maybe you feel like you sold out on your dreams to fix glasses instead. Oh wait, that's just me.
Maybe you carry a deep dark secret that's not that dark and not that deep but still sucks because it defines how you see yourself on a daily basis.
Maybe you have a blister on your pinky toe the size of Minneapolis. Oh wait. That's just me too.
My point is this--do I have one?
How determinedly unhappy are you?
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Did You Know?
In the past year, one of my favorite things to do is cook breakfast. Especially on my day off. I love slicing mushrooms and tomatoes and avocadoes and frying eggs and toast. It's the most important meal of the day, am I right?
But what if someone told me it wasn't? What if someone told me breakfast wasn't the most important meal of the day, but in fact, it was lunch? To make it a double-whammy, what if someone told me what I enjoy isn't worth enjoying?
Did I know it wasn't enough until someone told me?
I think that's how it is with life. I mean, let's face it, sometimes it's boring. And sometimes we take other peoples' words at face value. But what about what you know, that you know, that you know?
Today I plan on washing my car. Going for a walk. Attending church in the evening. Putting on my make-up. Studying for my ABO exam in November.
Is it not enough if someone tells me it isn't enough? Is it okay if my life is like this for the next 6 months? How about the next 6 years? What about boredom? And all the cure-alls for it? Because in all honesty, I need a party. I need a kiss on the mouth and a cigarette. In that order. Or any order. I need to go out at 11 o'clock at night to run down the street in my underwear and kiss the stars and wave at the sky to let the aliens know I'm here, and I'm waiting for their arrival.
I need Jesus.
But what if someone told me it wasn't? What if someone told me breakfast wasn't the most important meal of the day, but in fact, it was lunch? To make it a double-whammy, what if someone told me what I enjoy isn't worth enjoying?
Did I know it wasn't enough until someone told me?
I think that's how it is with life. I mean, let's face it, sometimes it's boring. And sometimes we take other peoples' words at face value. But what about what you know, that you know, that you know?
Today I plan on washing my car. Going for a walk. Attending church in the evening. Putting on my make-up. Studying for my ABO exam in November.
Is it not enough if someone tells me it isn't enough? Is it okay if my life is like this for the next 6 months? How about the next 6 years? What about boredom? And all the cure-alls for it? Because in all honesty, I need a party. I need a kiss on the mouth and a cigarette. In that order. Or any order. I need to go out at 11 o'clock at night to run down the street in my underwear and kiss the stars and wave at the sky to let the aliens know I'm here, and I'm waiting for their arrival.
I need Jesus.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Go Where You Get It
I was talking to a co-worker earlier this afternoon and I told her that even though I know it's the biggest cliché in the world I like going to church because I feel better after it's over. When I leave church, I just feel a sense of relief.
It's the same when I leave my Grandpa's house. I know when I need to go there. When the need flows in and out of me, and I think of how life used to be, how it isn't now, and all the things I cannot control, and the world's massiveness, and the kitties crying at home to be fed, and the laundry waiting to be started. It's all there and it's not going anywhere any time soon. These things abide and they exist and they take up just as much space as I do and sometimes, quite frequently, in the midst of it all I need to go where I get it.
Where is it I'm going and what is it I'm getting?
When I was talking to my Grandfather a couple hours ago I told him I think that hurt attracts hurt. When we hurt, we attract other people who hurt too, just like magnets. The Lord has shown me through pictures where it is I hurt exactly and where this hurt filters through into every day life. What He plans to do with the hurt, I know not. For now, it is not His will for me to know.
In the mean time, I go where I get it.
I go where I get love.
It's the same when I leave my Grandpa's house. I know when I need to go there. When the need flows in and out of me, and I think of how life used to be, how it isn't now, and all the things I cannot control, and the world's massiveness, and the kitties crying at home to be fed, and the laundry waiting to be started. It's all there and it's not going anywhere any time soon. These things abide and they exist and they take up just as much space as I do and sometimes, quite frequently, in the midst of it all I need to go where I get it.
Where is it I'm going and what is it I'm getting?
When I was talking to my Grandfather a couple hours ago I told him I think that hurt attracts hurt. When we hurt, we attract other people who hurt too, just like magnets. The Lord has shown me through pictures where it is I hurt exactly and where this hurt filters through into every day life. What He plans to do with the hurt, I know not. For now, it is not His will for me to know.
In the mean time, I go where I get it.
I go where I get love.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Do This Not That
In the book of Mark it talks about how, as Jesus hung on the cross those that looked from the ground said something along the lines of,
"Oh, if only He saved himself right now, then I would believe He is the Son of God."
They wanted Jesus to do one more thing then one more thing then one more thing after that, to prove who He was. I am not so sure that even if Jesus met this to-do list that they would've believed Him anyway. I mean, I have lists too. Sometimes I find myself thinking,
"Oh, Lord. If I wasn't alone any more and just one person made me feel special, then I would be okay. Then I'd believe in you some more. Maybe if I could believe in you, I could believe in me, too. Lord, you know how when you meet someone and you had no idea you were looking for them until you met them? That person. If I knew them, I'd believe you, like for sure."
But would I really? What I believe right now is what I believe right now. This is it.
"If you get yourself off that cross right now, I will believe Jesus, I really will."
Will you?
Likewise, when one of Jesus' followers approached Pontius Pilate, desiring to collect Jesus' dead body, the Word says that Pilate was "surprised" Jesus was dead. Oh, so He DID die. Well, shit. I didn't see that one coming.
Pilate was surprised Jesus was dead. Would he be surprised at his death if he thought Jesus was just an every day guy? No. Every day men died all the time. They still do. He believed in Jesus, sure. But it didn't define his life in any way shape or form. We could say this is because Pilate didn't believe in himself, but I believe it goes beyond that. I don't believe Pilate believed he was a good a man, even though Jesus made Him feel like he could be. If you don't believe you are who the Lord says you are, then who are you really? Like, do you even know?
Do you know who you are?
"Oh, if only He saved himself right now, then I would believe He is the Son of God."
They wanted Jesus to do one more thing then one more thing then one more thing after that, to prove who He was. I am not so sure that even if Jesus met this to-do list that they would've believed Him anyway. I mean, I have lists too. Sometimes I find myself thinking,
"Oh, Lord. If I wasn't alone any more and just one person made me feel special, then I would be okay. Then I'd believe in you some more. Maybe if I could believe in you, I could believe in me, too. Lord, you know how when you meet someone and you had no idea you were looking for them until you met them? That person. If I knew them, I'd believe you, like for sure."
But would I really? What I believe right now is what I believe right now. This is it.
"If you get yourself off that cross right now, I will believe Jesus, I really will."
Will you?
Likewise, when one of Jesus' followers approached Pontius Pilate, desiring to collect Jesus' dead body, the Word says that Pilate was "surprised" Jesus was dead. Oh, so He DID die. Well, shit. I didn't see that one coming.
Pilate was surprised Jesus was dead. Would he be surprised at his death if he thought Jesus was just an every day guy? No. Every day men died all the time. They still do. He believed in Jesus, sure. But it didn't define his life in any way shape or form. We could say this is because Pilate didn't believe in himself, but I believe it goes beyond that. I don't believe Pilate believed he was a good a man, even though Jesus made Him feel like he could be. If you don't believe you are who the Lord says you are, then who are you really? Like, do you even know?
Do you know who you are?
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
The Shining
I'm worried I won't sleep tonight.
I've been taking melatonin for the past few days to give me sort of a kick-start to bed. It works, but I'm a little leery of getting addicted to a hormone.
There's this pit in my stomach and where it comes from I know not where and where it goes after it's gone I know not where. I only know that it's times like these I wish my mom was here to bury me inside of her and let me feel nothing and let me know nothing.
I begin to realize that I cannot cut people off. I cannot sample once and then, quite the epicurean, move on. I look at all the people I have known in life and the few people I know currently and how in some small way I think I have attached myself to each of them. Not like a leech, but in a different way. I have this habit of getting deep inside of people. I crawl my way in and claw my way around their insides, poking this and that, just for fun. I try to find where the hurt is inside of them and then take one of my own pieces to give to them instead. Because I am not broken. I am happy and whole and blooming.
Until I'm not. Until I hurt, just as much as they do. Until my insides are coated black and fleshy and swollen and I need a healer before my own flame that lights me up on a day to day basis gets snuffed out.
I've been taking melatonin for the past few days to give me sort of a kick-start to bed. It works, but I'm a little leery of getting addicted to a hormone.
There's this pit in my stomach and where it comes from I know not where and where it goes after it's gone I know not where. I only know that it's times like these I wish my mom was here to bury me inside of her and let me feel nothing and let me know nothing.
I begin to realize that I cannot cut people off. I cannot sample once and then, quite the epicurean, move on. I look at all the people I have known in life and the few people I know currently and how in some small way I think I have attached myself to each of them. Not like a leech, but in a different way. I have this habit of getting deep inside of people. I crawl my way in and claw my way around their insides, poking this and that, just for fun. I try to find where the hurt is inside of them and then take one of my own pieces to give to them instead. Because I am not broken. I am happy and whole and blooming.
Until I'm not. Until I hurt, just as much as they do. Until my insides are coated black and fleshy and swollen and I need a healer before my own flame that lights me up on a day to day basis gets snuffed out.
Monday, July 21, 2014
The Eye
I've been feeling a bit MIA lately regarding blogging and all creative things.
One of the things I've come across in my studies of the eyeball lately which I think is so cool is this "miracle of sight" which we all seem to have. In the ABO study guide for opticians, it talks about how it is legitimately a miracle that any of us can see at all because eyeballs are not like the rest of our body--pumping blood and oxygen, with all that valve-y stuff. Basically, when it comes to the eye, scientists are like,
"Well, we got nothing. It just is and we just are."
You can't explain a miracle.
The other interesting tidbit to note about the eye is that it will do all these different things to try and repair itself, for YOUR benefit. You know how when bones break, the bones will just heal over time? Yeah you can go to the doc but what is he basically going to tell you to do? Give it time to heal itself. Eyes are similar. If your eyes fail to create fusion--where two images come together to create one--one eye will literally shut itself down just to give its power to the other eye, to save you from seeing double.
The body wants to heal.
So I've been thinking about this and all the stupid shit I make time to do in a week and how overwhelming it is sometimes just to be alive and how really, if you want to be frank then I will be earnest for a second, ok?--
All kinds of people follow the Lord.
Even me.
One of the things I've come across in my studies of the eyeball lately which I think is so cool is this "miracle of sight" which we all seem to have. In the ABO study guide for opticians, it talks about how it is legitimately a miracle that any of us can see at all because eyeballs are not like the rest of our body--pumping blood and oxygen, with all that valve-y stuff. Basically, when it comes to the eye, scientists are like,
"Well, we got nothing. It just is and we just are."
You can't explain a miracle.
The other interesting tidbit to note about the eye is that it will do all these different things to try and repair itself, for YOUR benefit. You know how when bones break, the bones will just heal over time? Yeah you can go to the doc but what is he basically going to tell you to do? Give it time to heal itself. Eyes are similar. If your eyes fail to create fusion--where two images come together to create one--one eye will literally shut itself down just to give its power to the other eye, to save you from seeing double.
The body wants to heal.
So I've been thinking about this and all the stupid shit I make time to do in a week and how overwhelming it is sometimes just to be alive and how really, if you want to be frank then I will be earnest for a second, ok?--
All kinds of people follow the Lord.
Even me.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Bats' Wings
The coffee pot was percolating earlier and I was thinking,
"ok, now is a good time to go and write,"
but it didn't happen. I'm here now, watching the Hobbit and trying to stay awake.
My mom told me that in order for she and dad to get me to start walking as a baby they had to bribe me with a piece of chocolate.
"Little girl, if you want this chocolate, you can walk for it."
My birthday is tomorrow and without meaning to write some boring reflective and dippy piece about my life thus far and what's happened and what hasn't and who I am and what the meaning of life is--the chocolate story sums it up nicely. My dad was holding me up so I had my balance and mom was standing across from me and she had the chocolate and man, I let go of dad and I went for it.
Life has been like that ever since. I see it, I take it. I'm steadily realizing that the things I take cannot be taken without the Lord first giving them to me. My birthday is tomorrow, and I want to share a thought.
When it finds me, I am talking to a friend. I have a cup in my hand, some drink or another. I am full of laughter. It taps me on the shoulder,
"Oh there you are!"
That's what I say to it. Oh, there you are.
So it is, with love.
"ok, now is a good time to go and write,"
but it didn't happen. I'm here now, watching the Hobbit and trying to stay awake.
My mom told me that in order for she and dad to get me to start walking as a baby they had to bribe me with a piece of chocolate.
"Little girl, if you want this chocolate, you can walk for it."
My birthday is tomorrow and without meaning to write some boring reflective and dippy piece about my life thus far and what's happened and what hasn't and who I am and what the meaning of life is--the chocolate story sums it up nicely. My dad was holding me up so I had my balance and mom was standing across from me and she had the chocolate and man, I let go of dad and I went for it.
Life has been like that ever since. I see it, I take it. I'm steadily realizing that the things I take cannot be taken without the Lord first giving them to me. My birthday is tomorrow, and I want to share a thought.
When it finds me, I am talking to a friend. I have a cup in my hand, some drink or another. I am full of laughter. It taps me on the shoulder,
"Oh there you are!"
That's what I say to it. Oh, there you are.
So it is, with love.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Chasing Tails
Whenever I come home lately I feel as though there's always one more thing I have to do before I can do the things I want to do. One more thing, one more thing, one more thing. In the end I think I just lay in bed or on the couch surfing on my phone or looking for new clothes online. I've been blessed so abundantly lately and yet, I feel as though I'm stranded on an island.
I'm stranded on an island trying to make a fort out of sticks. Every time I get it to stand up, the damn thing falls over.
I'm tense and I'm frustrated. I was thinking about how when two people exchange wedding vows there's always that "till death do us part" line when really it's not even that. It's just until death does us.
Do you understand?
I wonder if anyone really knows what it's going to take to make them happy. Is it a person, place, or thing? I'm not talking about sex or new shoes or remodeling or fellowship with believers.
What is going to make you happy?
I kind of feel like we've all got it embedded in us somehow that we are to be these animals chasing our tails from dusk to dawn. But when do we ever just sit? Not biting your nails or wringing your hands. Not tossing and turning or putting of sleep until an hour before your alarm goes off.
Do you ever just be?
I'm stranded on an island trying to make a fort out of sticks. Every time I get it to stand up, the damn thing falls over.
I'm tense and I'm frustrated. I was thinking about how when two people exchange wedding vows there's always that "till death do us part" line when really it's not even that. It's just until death does us.
Do you understand?
I wonder if anyone really knows what it's going to take to make them happy. Is it a person, place, or thing? I'm not talking about sex or new shoes or remodeling or fellowship with believers.
What is going to make you happy?
I kind of feel like we've all got it embedded in us somehow that we are to be these animals chasing our tails from dusk to dawn. But when do we ever just sit? Not biting your nails or wringing your hands. Not tossing and turning or putting of sleep until an hour before your alarm goes off.
Do you ever just be?
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Tenants
I got a new ride yesterday. It's funny how suited this car is to all my needs and wants, without me realizing it was when I got it. I was so focused on getting a car that functioned properly and got me from point A to point B without blowing up, without spending a fortune, that I didn't realize all the fun things about it. I can sync it to my phone so I can listen to my music whenever I feel like it. I can change the lights on the inside of the car to different colors like purple or blue or red or green. I drove my car to my dad's house earlier to pick up my insurance cards, because I'm still under my dad's insurance (womp womp womp) and even afterwards, with it being my day off and all, I tried to think of all the possible places I could drive my car because I didn't want to get out of it. But I couldn't think of anywhere. I couldn't think of any place I could go, without spending money or anything. The dealer I met with yesterday asked me,
"Do you ever just drive around, not knowing where you're going, just to lose track of time? Because you just want to drive?"
Well no. No, I don't. I wish I was that woman. I don't know how to just get lost. I'm too afraid of losing time. Or not knowing how to use my time or whatever. Am I the only person like this?
I was reading in the Word earlier the parable about the tenants. You know, the people who were staying at the vineyard who obviously didn't want to leave. I say "obviously" because every time the owner sent a person to go and collect from the vineyard, that person, whether it be a beloved son or a servant, would be killed by the tenants. The Word says that this person would not just be killed, but that he'd be killed shamefully.
I don't think the tenants were stupid. I think they knew very well they didn't own the vineyard (I mean, duh) and that they were, after all, just tenants. They were leasing a space. But that didn't stop them from acting the way they did.
What is my point?
I guess I've been wondering lately where and if I ever feel a sense of false entitlement in my life. To take it a step further, do I know what belongs to the Lord? Do I know what belongs to me? Have I drawn the line?
Sure, some men just like to watch the world burn. Granted. I am probably one of them. But that aside, I just can't believe that the tenants didn't know in their hearts that the vineyard didn't belong to them. They'd have to go. If they didn't have to leave beforehand, surely they'd have to leave now, since they were killing people and all. I mean, that's kind of a deal breaker. But when it comes to sin, you can't stop.
I can't stop.
Abba Father, forgive us.
"Do you ever just drive around, not knowing where you're going, just to lose track of time? Because you just want to drive?"
Well no. No, I don't. I wish I was that woman. I don't know how to just get lost. I'm too afraid of losing time. Or not knowing how to use my time or whatever. Am I the only person like this?
I was reading in the Word earlier the parable about the tenants. You know, the people who were staying at the vineyard who obviously didn't want to leave. I say "obviously" because every time the owner sent a person to go and collect from the vineyard, that person, whether it be a beloved son or a servant, would be killed by the tenants. The Word says that this person would not just be killed, but that he'd be killed shamefully.
I don't think the tenants were stupid. I think they knew very well they didn't own the vineyard (I mean, duh) and that they were, after all, just tenants. They were leasing a space. But that didn't stop them from acting the way they did.
What is my point?
I guess I've been wondering lately where and if I ever feel a sense of false entitlement in my life. To take it a step further, do I know what belongs to the Lord? Do I know what belongs to me? Have I drawn the line?
Sure, some men just like to watch the world burn. Granted. I am probably one of them. But that aside, I just can't believe that the tenants didn't know in their hearts that the vineyard didn't belong to them. They'd have to go. If they didn't have to leave beforehand, surely they'd have to leave now, since they were killing people and all. I mean, that's kind of a deal breaker. But when it comes to sin, you can't stop.
I can't stop.
Abba Father, forgive us.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Where Words Fail
There is this list of maybes. It's a list of truths, but anything but the truth. It's the whole mixed with the broken. The old and the new. It's abiding and it's current, and it flows like the current inside of you.
Maybe your Friday nights are spent watching wrestling with your grandparents. Maybe you are in love with your boss. You think about him on your way home and so you turn the radio up a little louder so you don't have to hear your brain go on about it any more. Maybe you're trying to go to church and it sucks because let's be real--church sucks. Maybe you need to lose weight but Grandpa keeps buying icecream and why wouldn't he? You asked him to! Maybe your sad and tired but mostly sad. Because life isn't fair and men want to have sex with you but they don't want to talk to you and makeup classes are expensive and algebra is hard even after college and it looms in waiting for you under your bed like the jellyfish you thought you'd killed with a boxcutter.
But I digress.
Maybe we are just as broken as we think we are Maybe you're just like me and I'm just like you. Okay--probably not. That's a stretch. But here's my point, or rather, my point that leads to my point:
The ones who love me--and I mean really love me--with my knee high socks and singing in Spanish when I can't even speak it, and my driving 60 mph--those are the ones who count. And you won't know who they are, until you do.
Sometimes you've gotta draw the line.
Maybe your Friday nights are spent watching wrestling with your grandparents. Maybe you are in love with your boss. You think about him on your way home and so you turn the radio up a little louder so you don't have to hear your brain go on about it any more. Maybe you're trying to go to church and it sucks because let's be real--church sucks. Maybe you need to lose weight but Grandpa keeps buying icecream and why wouldn't he? You asked him to! Maybe your sad and tired but mostly sad. Because life isn't fair and men want to have sex with you but they don't want to talk to you and makeup classes are expensive and algebra is hard even after college and it looms in waiting for you under your bed like the jellyfish you thought you'd killed with a boxcutter.
But I digress.
Maybe we are just as broken as we think we are Maybe you're just like me and I'm just like you. Okay--probably not. That's a stretch. But here's my point, or rather, my point that leads to my point:
The ones who love me--and I mean really love me--with my knee high socks and singing in Spanish when I can't even speak it, and my driving 60 mph--those are the ones who count. And you won't know who they are, until you do.
Sometimes you've gotta draw the line.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Shiny and New
I had a dream recently. In the dream I saw the faces of people I used to spend time with. A voice told me that these people hated me, and I wanted to know why.
"For you, life is shiny and new. For them, it will never be that way again."
I've been remembering Arizona lately. I feel like it was just an episode of my life that didn't mean anything. Sometimes I look at my list of friends on Facebook and I'm like wow, I guess I really didn't impact anyone.
But the truth is we never really know how or whom we are impacting day-to-day. There's no way to really measure that.
I feel like I kind of hit the ground running a lot--with new jobs and new friends and new places to live. Indeed it is all shiny and new. But more than that, I have this tendency to tell myself to try and make the best of it.
What is it about being a Christian, you feel the need to try?
You know regardless of if we try to make the best of a situation, there is one who makes a way when there is no way. Lately I kind of feel like He has been nudging me,
"You know it's not your job to try and make the best of it. It's my job to make the best of it."
And I know some may look at that and say well, no. That's not biblical and that's pessimistic and somebody didn't drink their milk this morning.
Only one of those things are true.
It's funny how after I write a blog, I find myself collecting. There's this folder in my brain that just collects all week long, little files here and there. Phrases like "shiny and new". I'll think about writing until I sit down in front of the computer ready to go, realizing I can't tune out everything going on around me. And then when it's time for bed I fight it so much, like a little child. That's when it all comes out.
Good night.
"For you, life is shiny and new. For them, it will never be that way again."
I've been remembering Arizona lately. I feel like it was just an episode of my life that didn't mean anything. Sometimes I look at my list of friends on Facebook and I'm like wow, I guess I really didn't impact anyone.
But the truth is we never really know how or whom we are impacting day-to-day. There's no way to really measure that.
I feel like I kind of hit the ground running a lot--with new jobs and new friends and new places to live. Indeed it is all shiny and new. But more than that, I have this tendency to tell myself to try and make the best of it.
What is it about being a Christian, you feel the need to try?
You know regardless of if we try to make the best of a situation, there is one who makes a way when there is no way. Lately I kind of feel like He has been nudging me,
"You know it's not your job to try and make the best of it. It's my job to make the best of it."
And I know some may look at that and say well, no. That's not biblical and that's pessimistic and somebody didn't drink their milk this morning.
Only one of those things are true.
It's funny how after I write a blog, I find myself collecting. There's this folder in my brain that just collects all week long, little files here and there. Phrases like "shiny and new". I'll think about writing until I sit down in front of the computer ready to go, realizing I can't tune out everything going on around me. And then when it's time for bed I fight it so much, like a little child. That's when it all comes out.
Good night.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
This is Not My Life
From where I stand, it's like I'm at the perfect angle to be catching stars.
I hate being in transition. I hate being lonely. But this is what it is, this is the cross. Maybe it's just the cross I carry for summer, or maybe it is the cross I carry forever. In a perfect world I think I'd be married to Matthew Lillard and I'd be a famous make-up blogger for girls everywhere and I'd get free product on a weekly basis (almost daily, in fact) and our children(mine and Matthew's) would roam happily and they would not be segregated in a church or a school or anywhere that they went and we would raise them to know that weekends are for working and no one would be so happy as to be a mommy as I would be.
This is not my life.
I've begun a career that is causing me to access the complete left side of my brain and every day I feel as though I'm taking a little feather duster to all the cobwebs and stuff that have collected there. When I was in college I remember being in my algebra classes and hating math so much but at the same time knowing I could be the best at it if I really tried. I always knew how to get the answers to my questions even if it was the most round-about away. I had a teacher ask me how I got the answer to a question he gave me and I remember I said I didn't know. And he asked me well, from where he stood, how was he supposed to know I wasn't cheating? I said I didn't know. I just knew that I knew that I KNEW the answer.
I've been living my life like that.
I hate being in transition. I hate being lonely. But this is what it is, this is the cross. Maybe it's just the cross I carry for summer, or maybe it is the cross I carry forever. In a perfect world I think I'd be married to Matthew Lillard and I'd be a famous make-up blogger for girls everywhere and I'd get free product on a weekly basis (almost daily, in fact) and our children(mine and Matthew's) would roam happily and they would not be segregated in a church or a school or anywhere that they went and we would raise them to know that weekends are for working and no one would be so happy as to be a mommy as I would be.
This is not my life.
I've begun a career that is causing me to access the complete left side of my brain and every day I feel as though I'm taking a little feather duster to all the cobwebs and stuff that have collected there. When I was in college I remember being in my algebra classes and hating math so much but at the same time knowing I could be the best at it if I really tried. I always knew how to get the answers to my questions even if it was the most round-about away. I had a teacher ask me how I got the answer to a question he gave me and I remember I said I didn't know. And he asked me well, from where he stood, how was he supposed to know I wasn't cheating? I said I didn't know. I just knew that I knew that I KNEW the answer.
I've been living my life like that.
Monday, June 2, 2014
A Soft Heart
I was reading Mark earlier and it talks about Jesus walking on water and although the disciples are freaking out over this what they're *really* upset about is what he did with the bread and fish from earlier that day. Their hearts hardened, and they felt frustrated. How could this so-called Jesus take less and make it more? Because that's essentially what he did. He asked the disciples,
"Well, what do you have to offer?"
And they basically said well, nothing really, Lord. Definitely not enough for hundreds of people.
Their hearts were hardened. God, how can you take less and make it more? How do you do it? Sure, okay, you have authority. But why the spectacle? Why not make more....more?
I think I can identify with the disciples, more than I ought to.
Jesus said--hey, don't be afraid. It's just me. Like when you're watching a new episode of 24 and someone enters the room and touches your shoulder to let you know they're there. It's just them. No need for alarm.
It's just Jesus. Chill out.
"...for they had not understood about the loaves, their hearts were hardened." (6:52)
And as for me, well, I cannot do this any more. I cannot fall in and out and under and over and backwards and upside down in love, again and again and again.
Yet it is what I do.
Tonight, I am tired.
"Well, what do you have to offer?"
And they basically said well, nothing really, Lord. Definitely not enough for hundreds of people.
Their hearts were hardened. God, how can you take less and make it more? How do you do it? Sure, okay, you have authority. But why the spectacle? Why not make more....more?
I think I can identify with the disciples, more than I ought to.
Jesus said--hey, don't be afraid. It's just me. Like when you're watching a new episode of 24 and someone enters the room and touches your shoulder to let you know they're there. It's just them. No need for alarm.
It's just Jesus. Chill out.
"...for they had not understood about the loaves, their hearts were hardened." (6:52)
And as for me, well, I cannot do this any more. I cannot fall in and out and under and over and backwards and upside down in love, again and again and again.
Yet it is what I do.
Tonight, I am tired.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Arise
There are certain aspects of life that have made me feel like...
a jury, judge, and executioner all in one.
I don't really feel that way any more. But the feeling that never leaves is this need to get a rush, at whatever means possible. Sometimes it's like I can't stop and that's the thing that scares me. The words that leave my mouth before I can even think of what I'm saying.
Sometimes all the words add up in my head and they continue to tally. I think of the person I'd tell all those words to if I could, and how I will, when they're not so busy or they come around again. But the days pass and as the days pass so do the words. I can only keep the tally going for so long.
Until I let it go.
It's funny how I almost never think of Arizona until something reminds me of the opposite of it. I was laying in bed last night and there was light peering into my room from the window. It was like, 2 in the morning and I looked out the window up at the sky and it wasn't even dark. Like, not really. It just doesn't get dark here. In Arizona it got dark outside, in the desert. Like, you knew it was night. When it's night here, you don't really know.
So I see my life falling into step and into this pattern of living and it scares me, because I don't really know if I like where things are going. I think I look at God sometimes and ask Him,
"Do I have a say in any of this?"
and he's kind of just like,
"Um, duh."
Of course I do. I mean, I could stop it all at any time. I don't think it's the hope for something *better* that keeps me going. It's different than that.
In the book of Mark, Jesus approached this 12-year old that everyone thought was dead. He looked at her and he said,
"Little girl, I say to you, arise."
a jury, judge, and executioner all in one.
I don't really feel that way any more. But the feeling that never leaves is this need to get a rush, at whatever means possible. Sometimes it's like I can't stop and that's the thing that scares me. The words that leave my mouth before I can even think of what I'm saying.
Sometimes all the words add up in my head and they continue to tally. I think of the person I'd tell all those words to if I could, and how I will, when they're not so busy or they come around again. But the days pass and as the days pass so do the words. I can only keep the tally going for so long.
Until I let it go.
It's funny how I almost never think of Arizona until something reminds me of the opposite of it. I was laying in bed last night and there was light peering into my room from the window. It was like, 2 in the morning and I looked out the window up at the sky and it wasn't even dark. Like, not really. It just doesn't get dark here. In Arizona it got dark outside, in the desert. Like, you knew it was night. When it's night here, you don't really know.
So I see my life falling into step and into this pattern of living and it scares me, because I don't really know if I like where things are going. I think I look at God sometimes and ask Him,
"Do I have a say in any of this?"
and he's kind of just like,
"Um, duh."
Of course I do. I mean, I could stop it all at any time. I don't think it's the hope for something *better* that keeps me going. It's different than that.
In the book of Mark, Jesus approached this 12-year old that everyone thought was dead. He looked at her and he said,
"Little girl, I say to you, arise."
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Girl With a Pearl Earring
What are you living for?
What are you suffering for?
The same scenery day after day can begin to look different if only you look through another set of eyes.
What are you striving for?
Theses are questions I ask myself as I sit awake at night on the computer, listening to the dryer go on and on and stare at the fingerprints all over my laptop screen.
What are you living for? Is it a person, place, or thing? Is it not noun-y at all? Is it something spiritual? Is it that time of the month when you're not on your period? Is it that time of night when you're sitting on the hood of your car, alone, watching a lunar eclipse? Maybe you won't be alone for the next one. Then again...maybe you will. But if so you'll still live for that time. I live for times, like that.
I've been sick this past week and so the days kind of all mesh together. The days kind of do that anyway, honestly, being sick or not. But this past week I've really needed my mom. Cue the dramatic violin and give me an onion to slice but really--it's just not fair. Living far apart from someone you love. Not even that. Someone who gets you--I mean, really gets you. It's like they look at you and they discover you and then they show you, YOU. And you're like oh...I didn't know I looked like that. I didn't know I could do that. Or I was already doing that. Not, until you showed me.
Love enables me. It kick starts my morning. It's the spring in my step. It's my winged eyeliner. It's my job performance. It's my playlist on my Spotify. Love is and always will be--everything.
But when I have no love left, none in reserve, not even for myself. When the backup supply of my backup supply of love is all gone and done away with, what then?
It makes me want to close the windows and lock all the doors and close the curtains and cover all the mirrors. Some days, it's just too much.
What are you suffering for?
The same scenery day after day can begin to look different if only you look through another set of eyes.
What are you striving for?
Theses are questions I ask myself as I sit awake at night on the computer, listening to the dryer go on and on and stare at the fingerprints all over my laptop screen.
What are you living for? Is it a person, place, or thing? Is it not noun-y at all? Is it something spiritual? Is it that time of the month when you're not on your period? Is it that time of night when you're sitting on the hood of your car, alone, watching a lunar eclipse? Maybe you won't be alone for the next one. Then again...maybe you will. But if so you'll still live for that time. I live for times, like that.
I've been sick this past week and so the days kind of all mesh together. The days kind of do that anyway, honestly, being sick or not. But this past week I've really needed my mom. Cue the dramatic violin and give me an onion to slice but really--it's just not fair. Living far apart from someone you love. Not even that. Someone who gets you--I mean, really gets you. It's like they look at you and they discover you and then they show you, YOU. And you're like oh...I didn't know I looked like that. I didn't know I could do that. Or I was already doing that. Not, until you showed me.
Love enables me. It kick starts my morning. It's the spring in my step. It's my winged eyeliner. It's my job performance. It's my playlist on my Spotify. Love is and always will be--everything.
But when I have no love left, none in reserve, not even for myself. When the backup supply of my backup supply of love is all gone and done away with, what then?
It makes me want to close the windows and lock all the doors and close the curtains and cover all the mirrors. Some days, it's just too much.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Roots
And so, it happened. I became a California resident as of Friday, last week.
I've been waiting for it for awhile. The feeling of it, to really drive home, for me. That this is where I am and will be, for awhile. The feeling that some things are beginning to take root and I am home. For now.
So I've been dreaming of My So-Called Life lately. Yeah, the show from 1994. I wasn't sure what my conscience or God was trying to tell me other than yes, Jared Leto is indeed quite a fine specimen of a man. I decided to start watching episodes of it on Hulu last Friday night and then, I found this clip below on Pinterest.
And oh how much this takes root as well. I was talking to my mom the other night, we'd had an emotional week together, even hundreds of miles apart from each other. Me and my sister have been fighting and one of our pets of 12+ years just passed away. Needless to say, last week was a week I cried a damn river and I found myself saying to my mom:
"Mom, I know no one (at this specific place) can hate me as much as they think they do..for no one can hate me as much as I hate myself."
Dé jà moo right?
I just kinda think like, all of us are drowning in it. These ideas that we have of ourselves. And I don't know if it's really as bad as all that or not.
Monday, May 5, 2014
A Vision of Loveliness
Yesterday was Sunday.
I worked for eight hours, and we were busy. I got home and went into my room. There was a green bracelet put on my bed with elephants linked together. I put the bracelet on, and then I went swimming. After I went swimming I let my hair dry, grabbed one of the dogs, and drove to my Grandpa's house. He was in the garage. We talked about getting my car registered in California and me getting my California license. I went inside the house. My Grandma asked me how I was doing. She sat in her lounging chair, watching Murder, She Wrote. She said there were only 12 seasons of the show. I watched an episode with her. It was about a killer at a circus. I went home after that.
Today is Monday.
I'm folding laundry. Me and my cousin are texting back and forth. I'm listening to music, albeit enjoying a quiet house. I'm still in pajamas. I need to exercise. Wash my hair. It smells like chlorine, from yesterday. I'm going to go to Starbuck's frappuccino happy hour, later. Read my book by Khaled Hosseini. I will get on the elliptical and try out new eyeshadows and get a late start to the day and most likely ignore everyone and every thing. I will apply for a job as an optician. I will think of the past, and the present, but mostly I will think of the future.
Life is a vision of loveliness. That is the truth. Not that life over there, standing in the corner. This life, over here. Do you see it, at all?
I'm responsible. If I decide to take care of myself or not. It's not just wisdom teeth and California licenses and drinking or not drinking a pint of ale after midnight.
It's more frightening.
I worked for eight hours, and we were busy. I got home and went into my room. There was a green bracelet put on my bed with elephants linked together. I put the bracelet on, and then I went swimming. After I went swimming I let my hair dry, grabbed one of the dogs, and drove to my Grandpa's house. He was in the garage. We talked about getting my car registered in California and me getting my California license. I went inside the house. My Grandma asked me how I was doing. She sat in her lounging chair, watching Murder, She Wrote. She said there were only 12 seasons of the show. I watched an episode with her. It was about a killer at a circus. I went home after that.
Today is Monday.
I'm folding laundry. Me and my cousin are texting back and forth. I'm listening to music, albeit enjoying a quiet house. I'm still in pajamas. I need to exercise. Wash my hair. It smells like chlorine, from yesterday. I'm going to go to Starbuck's frappuccino happy hour, later. Read my book by Khaled Hosseini. I will get on the elliptical and try out new eyeshadows and get a late start to the day and most likely ignore everyone and every thing. I will apply for a job as an optician. I will think of the past, and the present, but mostly I will think of the future.
Life is a vision of loveliness. That is the truth. Not that life over there, standing in the corner. This life, over here. Do you see it, at all?
I'm responsible. If I decide to take care of myself or not. It's not just wisdom teeth and California licenses and drinking or not drinking a pint of ale after midnight.
It's more frightening.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
That Place
It's hard for me to fall asleep at night.
Maybe it's nicotine and coffee and working, but I just lay in bed thinking. Chewing my cuticles into oblivion. I'm just not ready to give up, and that's the problem.
I'm not ready to give up on the day.
Why? What would I do differently?
It's too easy to get lost in the monotony of this life. Going to work. Coming home. Chores, and family. Dinner with friends. Starting a new book. Then another new book, and then another.
In the movie It's a Wonderful Life Jimmy Stewart's character talks about in the middle of the night he wants to run through a field in his bare feet and look out at the stars and climb the nearest hill and well, live.
I want to do that too but I don't know how. Sure, I've prayed and asked God. I've knocked on the Doors of Purpose. I've lived the wrong way too, and once you've done that, it's a constant temptation not to live that way any more. Why?
Because each time it gets harder and harder to get to that place. Maybe just a little harder each time, but all those 'little's add up right?
That place. What is it?
If you've been there, you know.
Maybe it's nicotine and coffee and working, but I just lay in bed thinking. Chewing my cuticles into oblivion. I'm just not ready to give up, and that's the problem.
I'm not ready to give up on the day.
Why? What would I do differently?
It's too easy to get lost in the monotony of this life. Going to work. Coming home. Chores, and family. Dinner with friends. Starting a new book. Then another new book, and then another.
In the movie It's a Wonderful Life Jimmy Stewart's character talks about in the middle of the night he wants to run through a field in his bare feet and look out at the stars and climb the nearest hill and well, live.
I want to do that too but I don't know how. Sure, I've prayed and asked God. I've knocked on the Doors of Purpose. I've lived the wrong way too, and once you've done that, it's a constant temptation not to live that way any more. Why?
Because each time it gets harder and harder to get to that place. Maybe just a little harder each time, but all those 'little's add up right?
That place. What is it?
If you've been there, you know.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
10:30 pm
And if you are home by 10:30 p.m, what then does that mean?
Does it mean your life is boring and your friends are few? Does it mean you don't know fun or what it is to be free and sadistic and contrary?
Often we find out what something means by what it does not mean.
Here are 5 life lessons I want to present on my blog, as we head into summer. Thank you fall, winter, and spring!
1. Yes. Yes, Tapatio does go on everything.
2. Belgian beers are good. Ales are good. Vodka cranberries are very good. Mix them together. They are not good.
3. You will love again. You were meant to, whether you like it or not. You're not exempt from your godly calling to love.
4. Wisdom teeth and chronic back pain are NOT reasons enough to say this is a shitty life.
5. Change is coming. It's already started.
I was home by 10:30 last night. So what? It's not a bad life. Or, rather, if it is a bad life, that's not the reason why. If you're home early that is not a bad testament.
If you walk around acting like you own the place, even if you don't, you do. Why?
Sooner or later people start to believe that you do, simply because you believe you do.
Do you believe?
Does it mean your life is boring and your friends are few? Does it mean you don't know fun or what it is to be free and sadistic and contrary?
Often we find out what something means by what it does not mean.
Here are 5 life lessons I want to present on my blog, as we head into summer. Thank you fall, winter, and spring!
1. Yes. Yes, Tapatio does go on everything.
2. Belgian beers are good. Ales are good. Vodka cranberries are very good. Mix them together. They are not good.
3. You will love again. You were meant to, whether you like it or not. You're not exempt from your godly calling to love.
4. Wisdom teeth and chronic back pain are NOT reasons enough to say this is a shitty life.
5. Change is coming. It's already started.
I was home by 10:30 last night. So what? It's not a bad life. Or, rather, if it is a bad life, that's not the reason why. If you're home early that is not a bad testament.
If you walk around acting like you own the place, even if you don't, you do. Why?
Sooner or later people start to believe that you do, simply because you believe you do.
Do you believe?
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Moving On
I feel as though everything I look at turns to salt these days. Maybe it's only a matter of time before I become salt, too.
Pardon my Old Testament reference.
I've been turning over stones left and right to find nothing but worms and dirt beneath them. My attempts at publishing so far this year have been futile. My make-up artistry class, which I've essentially been planning my life around for the past couple months, has been canceled due to low enrollment. I'm on the re-schedule list.
Ok God, what gives?
I was studying the Word the other day and the thought occurred to me how often I ask God to make all dreams come true. For me, for the people I love. God, just make those dreams come true. Fulfill all. I thought about how I ask this and suddenly it became so stupid to me.
The idea of how God can make my dreams come true is not stupid to me. The how is irrelevant. Of course He can do it. That's not the question.
But what is the point of asking God to make your dreams come true, when you have none?
Do you see where I'm going with this?
And the thought occurred to me, loud and clear, kind of like a gunshot in the distance.
I will begin to dream again. And you know what?
So will you.
We are not meant to pay for the transgressions of others.
Pardon my Old Testament reference.
I've been turning over stones left and right to find nothing but worms and dirt beneath them. My attempts at publishing so far this year have been futile. My make-up artistry class, which I've essentially been planning my life around for the past couple months, has been canceled due to low enrollment. I'm on the re-schedule list.
Ok God, what gives?
I was studying the Word the other day and the thought occurred to me how often I ask God to make all dreams come true. For me, for the people I love. God, just make those dreams come true. Fulfill all. I thought about how I ask this and suddenly it became so stupid to me.
The idea of how God can make my dreams come true is not stupid to me. The how is irrelevant. Of course He can do it. That's not the question.
But what is the point of asking God to make your dreams come true, when you have none?
Do you see where I'm going with this?
And the thought occurred to me, loud and clear, kind of like a gunshot in the distance.
I will begin to dream again. And you know what?
So will you.
We are not meant to pay for the transgressions of others.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Eyes
I once had a guy at school tell me over text that he loved how beautiful and big my green eyes were.
I wanted to tell him my eyes were blue, not green. But I didn't. My friend Rachel and I ended up laughing about it later and joking about what a dork he was, however with good intentions.
I've been wondering lately what we really see when we look into each others' eyes. Do we see all the pain and mischief? The child-like wonder? Or just empty glass?
I worked yesterday morning and I was running out of my work to try to get across town for Easter brunch with my family. I sat next to my dad and my cousin Drew, across from my uncle, cousin Chris, and cousin Mikey with his fiancé. All the way across the table I met eyes with my cousin Theresa after we'd shared some private text messages moments before (yes at Easter brunch, I know) and I knew as she met my eyes she knew what I was feeling. I felt her empathy, she felt my distress. She was too far from me. I had another beer.
My make-up course starts on this upcoming Sunday. Everyone I've talked to thinks it's weird because, who would really want to teach on a Sunday? Only a crazy and/or broke teacher, that's who. I'm excited anyway. Maybe it's just something to do, to kill time or keep myself busy. But I have found that even when we only give God an inch He will take an entire yard. In a good way, of course.
I think everyone struggles with feeling different from everyone else. I was put on this earth to love people. It doesn't get any more or any less than that. It has no long-term or short-term.
God says to Moses through a burning bush: "I AM."
It is not deeper than that. There is no justification for it. There's no blog post on it. In the same way that He is, mightily, so I am just me. Just Annie.
Ready to look into your eyes.
I wanted to tell him my eyes were blue, not green. But I didn't. My friend Rachel and I ended up laughing about it later and joking about what a dork he was, however with good intentions.
I've been wondering lately what we really see when we look into each others' eyes. Do we see all the pain and mischief? The child-like wonder? Or just empty glass?
I worked yesterday morning and I was running out of my work to try to get across town for Easter brunch with my family. I sat next to my dad and my cousin Drew, across from my uncle, cousin Chris, and cousin Mikey with his fiancé. All the way across the table I met eyes with my cousin Theresa after we'd shared some private text messages moments before (yes at Easter brunch, I know) and I knew as she met my eyes she knew what I was feeling. I felt her empathy, she felt my distress. She was too far from me. I had another beer.
My make-up course starts on this upcoming Sunday. Everyone I've talked to thinks it's weird because, who would really want to teach on a Sunday? Only a crazy and/or broke teacher, that's who. I'm excited anyway. Maybe it's just something to do, to kill time or keep myself busy. But I have found that even when we only give God an inch He will take an entire yard. In a good way, of course.
I think everyone struggles with feeling different from everyone else. I was put on this earth to love people. It doesn't get any more or any less than that. It has no long-term or short-term.
God says to Moses through a burning bush: "I AM."
It is not deeper than that. There is no justification for it. There's no blog post on it. In the same way that He is, mightily, so I am just me. Just Annie.
Ready to look into your eyes.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Dry Spells
You hear things like, "There's no rest for the wicked" and you're like oh, okay. No wonder I'm not getting any sleep.
There are some things in life I do not understand. It would only be too easy to blame my wickedness for every bad or every good thing that happens in my life. Maybe you too, look at situations that are happening. Maybe your boyfriend sucks and you don't have the heart or the backbone or the liver to tell him. There's a circumstance with your job that makes you feel like a failure. Or there are no prospects of your parents ever getting back together. You wander a shallow valley and wonder,
Am I meant to do anything else but this?
Hindsight. In hindsight we will know--I will know--what the dry spell was for. The planted fruits that would seem to come to nothing. We will wait and we will know, maybe not three months from now or six months from now. But we will know.
Until that time, what matters now is pleasing Him. For He is someone, when we have no one.
The thing I struggle the most with is being forgotten. The fear, of receiving no credit where it is due. Of having wasted time. The fear of not measuring up, or worse, having measured for sure and still receiving nothing for it. Not even a good word. Losing, again, to that damn squeaky wheel that has become the bane of my existence time and time again, situation after situation. No elevated platform for Annie. Return to the shallow valley.
And what then? If worse comes to worse, and I am not remembered?
He is someone when I have no one. Elevated platform or not.
So let's dance.
There are some things in life I do not understand. It would only be too easy to blame my wickedness for every bad or every good thing that happens in my life. Maybe you too, look at situations that are happening. Maybe your boyfriend sucks and you don't have the heart or the backbone or the liver to tell him. There's a circumstance with your job that makes you feel like a failure. Or there are no prospects of your parents ever getting back together. You wander a shallow valley and wonder,
Am I meant to do anything else but this?
Hindsight. In hindsight we will know--I will know--what the dry spell was for. The planted fruits that would seem to come to nothing. We will wait and we will know, maybe not three months from now or six months from now. But we will know.
Until that time, what matters now is pleasing Him. For He is someone, when we have no one.
The thing I struggle the most with is being forgotten. The fear, of receiving no credit where it is due. Of having wasted time. The fear of not measuring up, or worse, having measured for sure and still receiving nothing for it. Not even a good word. Losing, again, to that damn squeaky wheel that has become the bane of my existence time and time again, situation after situation. No elevated platform for Annie. Return to the shallow valley.
And what then? If worse comes to worse, and I am not remembered?
He is someone when I have no one. Elevated platform or not.
So let's dance.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
It's Quiet Here
It's strange how in the midst of so much noise there can be so much quiet. Inward and outward noise. San Diego isn't a quiet a place. We live in a crowded area, with constant traffic. There are cars, there are dogs. Not to mention it's always 4:20 somewhere and that's not a quiet thing. Inside, the TV is always on. The fan is fanning. The microwave is beeping. Music is playing. People argue, but people whisper. And then, there are the voices inside of you.
They quicken. They stop. They sputter and then they gain pace. They gasp, gain confidence, and then quit altogether. The voices inside of me lately have been in a frenzy. Like a shark who sniffs blood and then loses it.
I've been thinking a lot about work and school and what comes next. This has been a year of new things for me, and I'm pretty sure it will continue to be so. I still think about moving up to Folsom to be with my mom. I think about trying to squeeze into her cottage made for one. Me and her and all our cats. I think of her local theatre, how I could audition for this role or that one. Or maybe I could put make-up on the actors and actresses.
It's this cluster that were all in. Where crazy is the new sexy and you'd give anything to press into someone just as crazy as you. Or to know that at least if they could be that crazy, even the possibility of it, would be a comfort.
I must choose to be quiet under trial in a world that is not, period.
I eat my top ramen on a Monday morning. The world is quiet here.
They quicken. They stop. They sputter and then they gain pace. They gasp, gain confidence, and then quit altogether. The voices inside of me lately have been in a frenzy. Like a shark who sniffs blood and then loses it.
I've been thinking a lot about work and school and what comes next. This has been a year of new things for me, and I'm pretty sure it will continue to be so. I still think about moving up to Folsom to be with my mom. I think about trying to squeeze into her cottage made for one. Me and her and all our cats. I think of her local theatre, how I could audition for this role or that one. Or maybe I could put make-up on the actors and actresses.
It's this cluster that were all in. Where crazy is the new sexy and you'd give anything to press into someone just as crazy as you. Or to know that at least if they could be that crazy, even the possibility of it, would be a comfort.
I must choose to be quiet under trial in a world that is not, period.
I eat my top ramen on a Monday morning. The world is quiet here.
These are the soldiership years.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Itchiness
I'm sitting here on my bed typing and talking to my kitty, Ruby. She's meowing and purring and telling me how hard her life is. Sleeping all day, waking up, sitting in the windowsill watching the cars drive by. Waiting for me to get home, snacking.
It sounds like a tough life, doesn't it?
I don't know what it's going to take to make me happy. I am frustrated and fickle and say I'll do something when I won't. I'm trying to hold onto the fact that God is the great I Am. But lately I see through a mirror, darkly. Imagine walking around with a fog inside of you that spreads out from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. And then for good measure you put on a pair of dirty sunglasses that have ketchup on them from In N' Out and you just haven't cleaned them because you know, life's busy and you ain't about that.
At my Bible study we've been talking about Jesus and the disciples. This week were supposed to read Matthew 26 which talks about Jesus being betrayed by Judas. I thought about Judas and how like, he was just so doubtful of Jesus and who He was. I wonder if things would have been different if he had just said to Jesus from the beginning:
"Hey, I don't believe in what you're doing. I don't understand it. Why are you letting things get out of hand? Why not do this instead? I don't get it. You know, I have my doubts about you and who you say you are."
I think simply by admitting this, Jesus would have more than met Judas half way. Doubt wasn't the problem. Disbelief wasn't the problem. It was zero communication with God. I think that hurt Jesus the most. The fact that Judas, after all that adventuring together, just couldn't say what he was feeling and thinking. I think that hurt Jesus more than Judas' disbelief and doubt because let me be frank, and you guys can be earnest:
Us too. We're all thinking the same thing. What the hell is God doing? Who is this Jesus? Who is this Messiah?
I want to know, man. I gotta know.
It sounds like a tough life, doesn't it?
I don't know what it's going to take to make me happy. I am frustrated and fickle and say I'll do something when I won't. I'm trying to hold onto the fact that God is the great I Am. But lately I see through a mirror, darkly. Imagine walking around with a fog inside of you that spreads out from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. And then for good measure you put on a pair of dirty sunglasses that have ketchup on them from In N' Out and you just haven't cleaned them because you know, life's busy and you ain't about that.
At my Bible study we've been talking about Jesus and the disciples. This week were supposed to read Matthew 26 which talks about Jesus being betrayed by Judas. I thought about Judas and how like, he was just so doubtful of Jesus and who He was. I wonder if things would have been different if he had just said to Jesus from the beginning:
"Hey, I don't believe in what you're doing. I don't understand it. Why are you letting things get out of hand? Why not do this instead? I don't get it. You know, I have my doubts about you and who you say you are."
I think simply by admitting this, Jesus would have more than met Judas half way. Doubt wasn't the problem. Disbelief wasn't the problem. It was zero communication with God. I think that hurt Jesus the most. The fact that Judas, after all that adventuring together, just couldn't say what he was feeling and thinking. I think that hurt Jesus more than Judas' disbelief and doubt because let me be frank, and you guys can be earnest:
Us too. We're all thinking the same thing. What the hell is God doing? Who is this Jesus? Who is this Messiah?
I want to know, man. I gotta know.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Elephants
When I hear the term "life expectancy" I generally think, how long am I going to live?
My cousin Theresa and I spent the afternoon together. We stopped and looked at two houses for sale on our way home. I put my face to a glass window so I could see the 70's shag carpet in what could be a bedroom. My bedroom, if I lived there. Someone had put a Marilyn Monroe picture in the living room. She looked right past me but I looked at her. I wondered what it would be like, to call my co-worker and invite him to play board games in the backyard of this house that belonged to no one. Would he bring a friend? Would anyone catch us? I wondered what it would be like to call up a man I don't know to occupy the backyard of a place we know even less. I wondered what the rush would be like, in another instance, to wait until my neighbors go out for the evening, and then jump into their pool naked, just to go back over the fence running for my own yard. Home base.
We have a pool, but that isn't the point.
The imaginary elephant we allow to roam the room is a question. What is important to me? I think some of us get an idea of what we want our future to look like--husband, babies, Netflix, breakfast at midnight. Sex. Drugs. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. The concept of having the life at all becomes more important than who it's with. Does the who even matter? Or just the life? Just the house. All the possibilities that live in that backyard. The Mexican beer. The rotting orange tree. The broken gate--maybe somebody crashed their car into it, and that's why it's bent like that.
Sometimes people are objects in the life you want. They exist and we love them but they're still objects. They play a part in the life we want. The life that we want more, than we ever wanted them.
Life expectancy is not how long I suppose I will live. It's how I expect my life.
My cousin Theresa and I spent the afternoon together. We stopped and looked at two houses for sale on our way home. I put my face to a glass window so I could see the 70's shag carpet in what could be a bedroom. My bedroom, if I lived there. Someone had put a Marilyn Monroe picture in the living room. She looked right past me but I looked at her. I wondered what it would be like, to call my co-worker and invite him to play board games in the backyard of this house that belonged to no one. Would he bring a friend? Would anyone catch us? I wondered what it would be like to call up a man I don't know to occupy the backyard of a place we know even less. I wondered what the rush would be like, in another instance, to wait until my neighbors go out for the evening, and then jump into their pool naked, just to go back over the fence running for my own yard. Home base.
We have a pool, but that isn't the point.
The imaginary elephant we allow to roam the room is a question. What is important to me? I think some of us get an idea of what we want our future to look like--husband, babies, Netflix, breakfast at midnight. Sex. Drugs. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. The concept of having the life at all becomes more important than who it's with. Does the who even matter? Or just the life? Just the house. All the possibilities that live in that backyard. The Mexican beer. The rotting orange tree. The broken gate--maybe somebody crashed their car into it, and that's why it's bent like that.
Sometimes people are objects in the life you want. They exist and we love them but they're still objects. They play a part in the life we want. The life that we want more, than we ever wanted them.
Life expectancy is not how long I suppose I will live. It's how I expect my life.
Friday, March 28, 2014
All Girls Do It
When I lived in Prescott as a counsellor my eyes changed color. I remember my mom saying they were bluer, and we agreed maybe it was from the altitude. I was tanner, stronger, and more tired than I've ever been. Honestly, I thought I knew what tired was but then I was up at 6:30 a.m. every morning with 10 little girls by my side and I knew I knew nothing.
I was the happiest I've ever been.
I wonder, if my eyes are "more" blue now that I'm in San Diego. If I'm stronger. Or if I'm just a cigarette-craving fatty who needs a spanking.
There's a saying I've seen a quarter of a million times (roughly) on Pinterest. It says, "Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time."
Or is it?
I look at the months the locusts have eaten to quote Joel, and though I did rather enjoy wasting that time, it was still just that, a waste. I will not get that time back. It's gone.
And yet, I'm happier than I've ever been. Why?
Because all girls do it.
I was the happiest I've ever been.
I wonder, if my eyes are "more" blue now that I'm in San Diego. If I'm stronger. Or if I'm just a cigarette-craving fatty who needs a spanking.
There's a saying I've seen a quarter of a million times (roughly) on Pinterest. It says, "Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time."
Or is it?
I look at the months the locusts have eaten to quote Joel, and though I did rather enjoy wasting that time, it was still just that, a waste. I will not get that time back. It's gone.
And yet, I'm happier than I've ever been. Why?
Because all girls do it.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Restlessness
Feeling breathless.
Over a short amount of time I've found myself staying up later and later, and having a harder time focusing on going to sleep. Well, I guess if sleep is something anyone has to focus on then you're probably doing it wrong anyway right?
I'm not sure what it is. Yes, I'm tired. No, I didn't sit around all day. I'm just so fitful. Like, literally I'm having fits. I'm buzzing away...buzz buzz buzz.
I want a big girl job. Maybe it's hanging out with girls who have them, or maybe it's just the side effect of getting older. But I really, really do. I want a career, which leads me to thinking...
ever since I was little, I've always done things my own way. Marching to my own beat is an understatement. I am not a woman for a boyfriend or a bachelor degree. My lines cannot be cut because they do not exist. I cannot cut on the dotted line because I can only cut outside of the line.
Deception has a funny way of appearing in the shape of an opportunity. I've seen some "opportunities" come and go over the these last few Winter months and well, I know some day I'll be glad I didn't take them, but for now, as I take a stand in knowing absolutely nothing but the grace of God, I wish I had. I wish I had taken a chance and made those mistakes.
But hey--wait. I already have made mistakes. But that's the thing...I want to make more. Why? Because mistakes are fun! And I never want to not be having fun because that's like...no fun. Do you understand?
My tendency to do the wrong thing comes from my same instinct to take risks just because I can. Your greatest weakness is an even greater strength. And so, restlessness too, is a gift.
Over a short amount of time I've found myself staying up later and later, and having a harder time focusing on going to sleep. Well, I guess if sleep is something anyone has to focus on then you're probably doing it wrong anyway right?
I'm not sure what it is. Yes, I'm tired. No, I didn't sit around all day. I'm just so fitful. Like, literally I'm having fits. I'm buzzing away...buzz buzz buzz.
I want a big girl job. Maybe it's hanging out with girls who have them, or maybe it's just the side effect of getting older. But I really, really do. I want a career, which leads me to thinking...
ever since I was little, I've always done things my own way. Marching to my own beat is an understatement. I am not a woman for a boyfriend or a bachelor degree. My lines cannot be cut because they do not exist. I cannot cut on the dotted line because I can only cut outside of the line.
Deception has a funny way of appearing in the shape of an opportunity. I've seen some "opportunities" come and go over the these last few Winter months and well, I know some day I'll be glad I didn't take them, but for now, as I take a stand in knowing absolutely nothing but the grace of God, I wish I had. I wish I had taken a chance and made those mistakes.
But hey--wait. I already have made mistakes. But that's the thing...I want to make more. Why? Because mistakes are fun! And I never want to not be having fun because that's like...no fun. Do you understand?
My tendency to do the wrong thing comes from my same instinct to take risks just because I can. Your greatest weakness is an even greater strength. And so, restlessness too, is a gift.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Light bulbs
My Grandpa texted me the other day (yes, he is that hip) to let me know he'd bought me light bulbs while he was out. I've had a lamp in my car over 8 months now that I'm finally getting around to using. Why did it take me so long to unload it?
I think subconsciously when I moved here I thought I was on vacation. I mean, I knew my parents weren't together any more and that I'd be living here at my aunt's. I knew I'd have a roof over my head, food to eat, family surrounding me. But living and settling are two different ideas.
To live somewhere is to abide there. It is a space in which you are a body. To settle is to creep inside of it. Allow it to creep inside of you. Do you see the difference?
And so my lamp is functioning well on top of my dresser, which is also no longer in storage. I'm thinking of buying 15 different knobs from my work to replace the ones already on it. Look at me, becoming the DIY girl.
In some ways I'm back to square one. When I moved here I virtually had no friends to spend time with, and alas, here I am again. But I don't mind it so much now. In the long run, I think I'd still be lonely even in the wrong company. I try telling my dreams that but they seem to pay me no mind.
All is grace.
I think subconsciously when I moved here I thought I was on vacation. I mean, I knew my parents weren't together any more and that I'd be living here at my aunt's. I knew I'd have a roof over my head, food to eat, family surrounding me. But living and settling are two different ideas.
To live somewhere is to abide there. It is a space in which you are a body. To settle is to creep inside of it. Allow it to creep inside of you. Do you see the difference?
And so my lamp is functioning well on top of my dresser, which is also no longer in storage. I'm thinking of buying 15 different knobs from my work to replace the ones already on it. Look at me, becoming the DIY girl.
In some ways I'm back to square one. When I moved here I virtually had no friends to spend time with, and alas, here I am again. But I don't mind it so much now. In the long run, I think I'd still be lonely even in the wrong company. I try telling my dreams that but they seem to pay me no mind.
All is grace.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Gifts
What does it take to cut a perfect square?
The other day I was helping my boss cut out these squares. You'd think cutting out a square would be as simple as following the lines with scissors. But not for me. Not one of my squares looked alike. They were all different. They looked like a ransom note letter, not a book for professional use.
This, too, is a gift.
I am not a perfect square. All of my creations are different.
I've decided to take a specialty course at Marinello in April. It's going to be for 5 Sundays, all about the Fundamentals of Makeup. I do not know if this will further a career for me in any way. I do know that learning new things is hard for me. My cousin just said, a few minutes ago:
"Anything is rocket science if you've never done it before."
What a true statement. I'm afraid. Of looking the fool, of being forced--with my hands tied behind my back--of saying, I do not know everything.
Well, I don't.
I had a dream recently. In the dream, there are a bunch of people sitting around a table, discussing a story. I think they're publishers. They continue to discuss the main character, what to do with him, how to make him come alive. Someone calls me out in the group, its a woman. She says I can help. So I begin to ask questions about this main character. Is he someone I'd want to be friends with? Is he someone you'd be friends with? I am asked, how is that relevant? I say, how is it not? Think. After a few moments I am talked out. They can't hear me. I can't hear me.
But for a few moments they needed me.
I was editor.
The other day I was helping my boss cut out these squares. You'd think cutting out a square would be as simple as following the lines with scissors. But not for me. Not one of my squares looked alike. They were all different. They looked like a ransom note letter, not a book for professional use.
This, too, is a gift.
I am not a perfect square. All of my creations are different.
I've decided to take a specialty course at Marinello in April. It's going to be for 5 Sundays, all about the Fundamentals of Makeup. I do not know if this will further a career for me in any way. I do know that learning new things is hard for me. My cousin just said, a few minutes ago:
"Anything is rocket science if you've never done it before."
What a true statement. I'm afraid. Of looking the fool, of being forced--with my hands tied behind my back--of saying, I do not know everything.
Well, I don't.
I had a dream recently. In the dream, there are a bunch of people sitting around a table, discussing a story. I think they're publishers. They continue to discuss the main character, what to do with him, how to make him come alive. Someone calls me out in the group, its a woman. She says I can help. So I begin to ask questions about this main character. Is he someone I'd want to be friends with? Is he someone you'd be friends with? I am asked, how is that relevant? I say, how is it not? Think. After a few moments I am talked out. They can't hear me. I can't hear me.
But for a few moments they needed me.
I was editor.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Expectancy
On days like today I wake up and it's overcast outside, I cook my oatmeal and grab my coffee and just wait.
I'm not sure what I'm waiting for. A line I've heard over and over again in my head this past week is,
"Wait in that space."
But Lord, wait for what? I wonder...
I wake up. It's overcast outside. I cook my oatmeal, grab my coffee. Exercise, fold my laundry, make my bed. Shower. Go to work. Come home. Work on my Bible study. Watch Game of Thrones. Hop into bed. I wake up.
In the midst of the normalcy if that's what we want to call it I find myself longing for things I used to want. I guess in that sense, I never stopped wanting them. But I don't believe that even one believer comes to the Lord without baggage, or without dreaming of the life before.
It's a new day. Unfortunately (fortunately) anything can happen. While this day does not carry with it pot or pancakes or the promise of an eventful evening, I'm okay. Really.
I'm not sure what I'm waiting for. A line I've heard over and over again in my head this past week is,
"Wait in that space."
But Lord, wait for what? I wonder...
I wake up. It's overcast outside. I cook my oatmeal, grab my coffee. Exercise, fold my laundry, make my bed. Shower. Go to work. Come home. Work on my Bible study. Watch Game of Thrones. Hop into bed. I wake up.
In the midst of the normalcy if that's what we want to call it I find myself longing for things I used to want. I guess in that sense, I never stopped wanting them. But I don't believe that even one believer comes to the Lord without baggage, or without dreaming of the life before.
It's a new day. Unfortunately (fortunately) anything can happen. While this day does not carry with it pot or pancakes or the promise of an eventful evening, I'm okay. Really.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Anten
There are two kinds of people in the world.
There are those who give life, and those who take life away.
There are those who start the fires, and those that put them out--to quote Lemony Snicket.
I was thinking this morning about this guy back in Arizona. On my way to Wildflower almost every day I'd stop by the Starbucks across the street from work. One of the baristas there soon knew me by name and my order by heart. Iced coffee, light ice, half and half with classic. He was cute, yes, but also bright and the type of person to enjoy talking to you. You didn't have to talk back. Or try.
I came in one day on my day off because of my expensive coffee habit and I remember I wore a blue dress and it was really hot out that day. It was summer time in AZ and well, let's just say I don't miss those. My hair was shorter. I remember Anten saw me walk through that door and he knew me. Plain and simple. He didn't smile, at first. But in front of customers and co-workers he just stood there and was like,
"Wow. You're just beautiful."
And I didn't know what to say. I left, still not knowing what to say. I remember I told my mom about it 5 minutes later via a text message in my car and I was literally like, Mom, I got nothing.
I went back to Starbucks later that night for another coffee I didn't need and I told Anten just that--this is totally a coffee I don't need.
"I just want to talk to you. Is that strange?"
And he smiled when I asked him that. He said it wasn't strange and he asked for my number and that was that.
Okay, so after that we didn't really talk any more. I probably tanked it as I have a tendency to do. However, I want to come back to my first point.
There are two kinds of people in the world. Those that start fires. Those that put them out. Those that give life. Those that take life away.
Anten is the kind of guy who gives life.
What about you? And, what about me?
In the book of Matthew, chapter 19, there's a rich, young guy who tells Jesus he wants eternal life. Jesus responds, "Ok. I'll tell you how you can enter life."
Notice that Jesus doesn't say, "Okay, sure. Let's get you eternal life."
He starts with life, in general. General life. Are you guys following me here?
Jesus gives life. Not just the now and forever ominous mysterious scary futuristic extra planet life. He wants to give you a life PERIOD. He wants us to enter life.
He wants me to enter life. Marvelous....marvelous life.
There are those who give life, and those who take life away.
There are those who start the fires, and those that put them out--to quote Lemony Snicket.
I was thinking this morning about this guy back in Arizona. On my way to Wildflower almost every day I'd stop by the Starbucks across the street from work. One of the baristas there soon knew me by name and my order by heart. Iced coffee, light ice, half and half with classic. He was cute, yes, but also bright and the type of person to enjoy talking to you. You didn't have to talk back. Or try.
I came in one day on my day off because of my expensive coffee habit and I remember I wore a blue dress and it was really hot out that day. It was summer time in AZ and well, let's just say I don't miss those. My hair was shorter. I remember Anten saw me walk through that door and he knew me. Plain and simple. He didn't smile, at first. But in front of customers and co-workers he just stood there and was like,
"Wow. You're just beautiful."
And I didn't know what to say. I left, still not knowing what to say. I remember I told my mom about it 5 minutes later via a text message in my car and I was literally like, Mom, I got nothing.
I went back to Starbucks later that night for another coffee I didn't need and I told Anten just that--this is totally a coffee I don't need.
"I just want to talk to you. Is that strange?"
And he smiled when I asked him that. He said it wasn't strange and he asked for my number and that was that.
Okay, so after that we didn't really talk any more. I probably tanked it as I have a tendency to do. However, I want to come back to my first point.
There are two kinds of people in the world. Those that start fires. Those that put them out. Those that give life. Those that take life away.
Anten is the kind of guy who gives life.
What about you? And, what about me?
In the book of Matthew, chapter 19, there's a rich, young guy who tells Jesus he wants eternal life. Jesus responds, "Ok. I'll tell you how you can enter life."
Notice that Jesus doesn't say, "Okay, sure. Let's get you eternal life."
He starts with life, in general. General life. Are you guys following me here?
Jesus gives life. Not just the now and forever ominous mysterious scary futuristic extra planet life. He wants to give you a life PERIOD. He wants us to enter life.
He wants me to enter life. Marvelous....marvelous life.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Die Jeans
Lately I've been realizing my purpose in life.
A psychologist, a teacher. A scientist, a politician.
More than that--or maybe less than that--a hostess of a party.
Since I was born my life has been this party. I've made sure everyone has their drinks, chips, and dip. People feel good. And yet...
Well, and yet. I'll quit there.
My mom says it's a rare thing to make people feel loved. I don't know. Getting older is funny. You realize that the laundry won't do itself. The holes in your jeans won't go away because your mom isn't around and it's up to you to plug your own damn holes. Dinner won't make itself. Lo, even after a full day at work, it will not. Kitty needs litter. And you realize...well, I realize. That I can't afford to be beautiful. That He is the potter, and I am the clay. Some people you do love forever and you carry that weight. Even if you're busy or high or in church or out of church or with your family or by yourself.
You're gonna carry that weight.
Now, to bypass some of the jabberwocky jargon. Here are some pictures of jeans I fixed today:
Taken in at the sides
A psychologist, a teacher. A scientist, a politician.
More than that--or maybe less than that--a hostess of a party.
Since I was born my life has been this party. I've made sure everyone has their drinks, chips, and dip. People feel good. And yet...
Well, and yet. I'll quit there.
My mom says it's a rare thing to make people feel loved. I don't know. Getting older is funny. You realize that the laundry won't do itself. The holes in your jeans won't go away because your mom isn't around and it's up to you to plug your own damn holes. Dinner won't make itself. Lo, even after a full day at work, it will not. Kitty needs litter. And you realize...well, I realize. That I can't afford to be beautiful. That He is the potter, and I am the clay. Some people you do love forever and you carry that weight. Even if you're busy or high or in church or out of church or with your family or by yourself.
You're gonna carry that weight.
Now, to bypass some of the jabberwocky jargon. Here are some pictures of jeans I fixed today:
Taken in at the sides
So after much over analysis I realize these jeans are quite boy-ish and baggy. I've had a couple people tell me they're ugly and not to wear them. But as you all know, if you tell me not to do something...well. :)
Monday, February 17, 2014
Phrases
'Gamma radiation'
'What would you like?'
'Gregarious'
'Vehement' and even 'Venereal' and EVEN 'Vesuvius'
'you know where you hope this train will take you, but you can't be sure' = new road
There are others but these ones are the most frequent.
I am on my toes for God.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Be My Frankenstein
I'm one of those people who is always lonely, to be frank, because I'm a bit of a loner. That being said, I really did enjoy my time traveling this past week.
I took the train up to Folsom to go see my mom. I think God kept making the effort to talk to me while all I was thinking was, "Can I just be there already? Sure California drought is gorgeous and all but so is my mom."
I keep feeling like something in me has changed but I haven't been able to put my fingers on what that is. Yes, fingers, because who would put just one finger on something? But anywho--it's not the clothes I wear or my desperate desire to love and be loved. It's not my calling to be a make-up artist or a soup connoisseur.
Do you know that in the Bible the word charity and the word love are basically interchangeable? I didn't think so but apparently there you go. I think God's been pretty charitable with me, lately. No one likes to be thought of like a charity case but you know with God I kind of don't mind.
I was sitting downstairs in the lounge of the train watching everything outside just pass me by. Me, pass it by. You know?
I'd never felt so lonely. I'd never felt so peaceful.
I've been living life like the sky is going to swallow me whole but I've had it backwards. I'm the one who's meant to swallow the sky. Do you follow me?
Something's changed. It's not the Diet Coke t-shirt. Or the memory foam pillow.
The clock's ticking, in a good way.
I took the train up to Folsom to go see my mom. I think God kept making the effort to talk to me while all I was thinking was, "Can I just be there already? Sure California drought is gorgeous and all but so is my mom."
I keep feeling like something in me has changed but I haven't been able to put my fingers on what that is. Yes, fingers, because who would put just one finger on something? But anywho--it's not the clothes I wear or my desperate desire to love and be loved. It's not my calling to be a make-up artist or a soup connoisseur.
Do you know that in the Bible the word charity and the word love are basically interchangeable? I didn't think so but apparently there you go. I think God's been pretty charitable with me, lately. No one likes to be thought of like a charity case but you know with God I kind of don't mind.
I was sitting downstairs in the lounge of the train watching everything outside just pass me by. Me, pass it by. You know?
I'd never felt so lonely. I'd never felt so peaceful.
I've been living life like the sky is going to swallow me whole but I've had it backwards. I'm the one who's meant to swallow the sky. Do you follow me?
Something's changed. It's not the Diet Coke t-shirt. Or the memory foam pillow.
The clock's ticking, in a good way.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Some Days
You just need a day.
Today I thought of everything. And nothing.
I stayed in pajamas. I cooked. I came back down to earth and realized some truths about me.
That I am not pretty. I am not social.
But I am still loved by those who love me.
I witnessed a strange thing on my way to the bank today. There was a homeless man with a sign that said: "It's ok to smile :)" and I got to thinking. You know it's hard enough for us to look one another in the eye. It's even harder to look homeless people--anyone in need, really--in the eye. But I don't want to be like that. When I look at people I want to really look at them.
For the rest of the day I thought of marriage to one in particular. I thought of owning a tambourine. I found this picture:
Today I thought of everything. And nothing.
I stayed in pajamas. I cooked. I came back down to earth and realized some truths about me.
That I am not pretty. I am not social.
But I am still loved by those who love me.
I witnessed a strange thing on my way to the bank today. There was a homeless man with a sign that said: "It's ok to smile :)" and I got to thinking. You know it's hard enough for us to look one another in the eye. It's even harder to look homeless people--anyone in need, really--in the eye. But I don't want to be like that. When I look at people I want to really look at them.
For the rest of the day I thought of marriage to one in particular. I thought of owning a tambourine. I found this picture:
I look at it and I think how incredible it is. Then I wondered, what's the story behind it? I bet it's romantic. Ajax and Kassandra.
Come to find out it's just the story about a dude raping a girl. Welp, so much for that. I still really love the picture.
Some days, you just need a day.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Love
I was thinking the other day while taking a shower (where many of my revelations take place) and this idea about love occurred to me that I wanted to briefly share.
Love is not going to the same church together. Having gone to the same high school. It's not where you both work at Cost Plus World Market. It's not having known each other since *forever*. It's not a dance floor in a club. Or a couch at your friend's house.
Love is deciding. People together because they want to be. Sherlock and Irene Adler. It's not logical.
It just is, because we just are.
I don't know if the love I described is actually real or just a thought in the shower while I shave my legs. Maybe it's a love that's only available in the next life. Maybe it's not attainable while I'm still young and beautiful.
Just some food for thought.
Love is not going to the same church together. Having gone to the same high school. It's not where you both work at Cost Plus World Market. It's not having known each other since *forever*. It's not a dance floor in a club. Or a couch at your friend's house.
Love is deciding. People together because they want to be. Sherlock and Irene Adler. It's not logical.
It just is, because we just are.
I don't know if the love I described is actually real or just a thought in the shower while I shave my legs. Maybe it's a love that's only available in the next life. Maybe it's not attainable while I'm still young and beautiful.
Just some food for thought.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Lately
Lately I've been thinking of my own depravity.
Of going home.
My dad told me today that the reason there was a weird air between my Grandma and me recently is because she thinks when I go to visit my mom next month I won't come back again. I'll only be gone a few days, in reality. I think it's interesting how afraid she is that I could decide to stay in Sacramento. Maybe it's because I belong there.
I've been thinking of my own depravity. The whirlwind I've been in and how every night it comes to me and sucks me dry and I let it as long as I'm a little less restless than I was before it came. I stayed home tonight and watched a movie in bed with my cat. I ate things that were my favorite flavor. I didn't dry my hair when I got out of the shower. It just was what it was.
I've been thinking lately and remembering. What is it to be still? I mean, serenely still. Be still in the silence or be still in the noise but be completely still. Don't fidget. Don't walk away.
Wait.
Of going home.
My dad told me today that the reason there was a weird air between my Grandma and me recently is because she thinks when I go to visit my mom next month I won't come back again. I'll only be gone a few days, in reality. I think it's interesting how afraid she is that I could decide to stay in Sacramento. Maybe it's because I belong there.
I've been thinking of my own depravity. The whirlwind I've been in and how every night it comes to me and sucks me dry and I let it as long as I'm a little less restless than I was before it came. I stayed home tonight and watched a movie in bed with my cat. I ate things that were my favorite flavor. I didn't dry my hair when I got out of the shower. It just was what it was.
I've been thinking lately and remembering. What is it to be still? I mean, serenely still. Be still in the silence or be still in the noise but be completely still. Don't fidget. Don't walk away.
Wait.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
There's No Cure For That
I think its in the book of Colossians that Paul makes a reference to peace and says it is
"to which you were called".
I confess I've been living without peace for a long time. I take responsibility for that. However, you guys know that statement "Time always heals the pain"?
There are two situations in my life I do not see time healing. I see time making these two things grow older. But not heal.
Recently I realized that the worst of the pain is here. I can try to numb it and forget it or I can face it head on. If I forget it then what will I have learned? What will I have gained, if I just walk away?
I think sometimes we think its all been taken away. All our hopes and all our dreams. They've all been taken away so we need to go and create new ones. But what if old dreams really don't die at all? I kind of think that Satan just likes to put them behind his back and make you think he's shoved 'em down the garbage disposal but he doesn't really have that power. Not really.
Maybe there is no cure for that. But how will you know for sure if you face away from the sun? And that's the thing about sunflowers. They always face the sun. That way they don't miss a thing.
Do you follow?
"to which you were called".
I confess I've been living without peace for a long time. I take responsibility for that. However, you guys know that statement "Time always heals the pain"?
There are two situations in my life I do not see time healing. I see time making these two things grow older. But not heal.
Recently I realized that the worst of the pain is here. I can try to numb it and forget it or I can face it head on. If I forget it then what will I have learned? What will I have gained, if I just walk away?
I think sometimes we think its all been taken away. All our hopes and all our dreams. They've all been taken away so we need to go and create new ones. But what if old dreams really don't die at all? I kind of think that Satan just likes to put them behind his back and make you think he's shoved 'em down the garbage disposal but he doesn't really have that power. Not really.
Maybe there is no cure for that. But how will you know for sure if you face away from the sun? And that's the thing about sunflowers. They always face the sun. That way they don't miss a thing.
Do you follow?
Monday, January 6, 2014
Heaven Is a Place On Earth
So I suppose the hipster in me doesn't believe in making a New Year's Resolution because
a) you're just gonna fail at keeping it and
b) why can't we just resolve to make changes all year round? Honestly, I think the 1st of the year is kind of just an excuse to do stuff we wouldn't do otherwise. But what if it wasn't like that? What if we aspired to cook more--lose weight--shop organic, all the time?
So without further ado here are some of my aspirations for this year (hey, they gotta go somewhere).
My grandparents got me a Soup cookbook for Christmas--back in November. My grandmother gently told me I need to learn how to cook for myself some time (before I'm in my 30's) and really, how hard is it to mess up soup? It all goes in one pot anyway. Well, I think there is some wisdom in that. I can't have McDonald's every day (thank you, California) and there ain't a damn thing wrong with being a little more self-sufficient.
Another Christmas gift I received--twice, actually--was a Hello Kitty sewing machine. One from my grandma and one from my mom. Again, approaching the topic of self-sufficiency, it would be nice to know if I needed a new purse I could just...ahem, make it. And doing it with Hello Kitty would make it more enjoyable. She'd keep me calm when I lose my shit over a broken thread. :)
Finally, take better care of my car. Sheila the Shaggin' Wagon is getting up there in years and I was kind of awful at car maintenance with my last two cars, so this time I want to do better. That's actually what I'm getting ready to do right now...and obviously stalling. I'm always afraid to go to the mechanic, the same way I'm afraid to go to the doctor. "Do I have mono?" is right up there with "Um...how much is this going to cost me?"
Blessings
Annie
a) you're just gonna fail at keeping it and
b) why can't we just resolve to make changes all year round? Honestly, I think the 1st of the year is kind of just an excuse to do stuff we wouldn't do otherwise. But what if it wasn't like that? What if we aspired to cook more--lose weight--shop organic, all the time?
So without further ado here are some of my aspirations for this year (hey, they gotta go somewhere).
My grandparents got me a Soup cookbook for Christmas--back in November. My grandmother gently told me I need to learn how to cook for myself some time (before I'm in my 30's) and really, how hard is it to mess up soup? It all goes in one pot anyway. Well, I think there is some wisdom in that. I can't have McDonald's every day (thank you, California) and there ain't a damn thing wrong with being a little more self-sufficient.
Another Christmas gift I received--twice, actually--was a Hello Kitty sewing machine. One from my grandma and one from my mom. Again, approaching the topic of self-sufficiency, it would be nice to know if I needed a new purse I could just...ahem, make it. And doing it with Hello Kitty would make it more enjoyable. She'd keep me calm when I lose my shit over a broken thread. :)
Finally, take better care of my car. Sheila the Shaggin' Wagon is getting up there in years and I was kind of awful at car maintenance with my last two cars, so this time I want to do better. That's actually what I'm getting ready to do right now...and obviously stalling. I'm always afraid to go to the mechanic, the same way I'm afraid to go to the doctor. "Do I have mono?" is right up there with "Um...how much is this going to cost me?"
Blessings
Annie
Thursday, January 2, 2014
More Than I Can Bare
My little cousin is watching Scooby Doo in the other room and I'm sitting here sipping my coffee and watching the minutes go by.
So begins 2014.
As my blogging has ceased recently, so has all of my former senses of propriety, control, and morality. I don't know guys....I've been on a kick. We'll call it that.
There's something therapeutic about blogging. You see your life for what it is--whatever it is--before you, and you have a better idea of where to go from there. I've missed that.
The most common misconception about blogging is that you have nothing to say. Often I think I have nothing to say because well...let's be honest. I don't go to school (the enemy) and I don't go to church (also the enemy) and when I look at my Recently Watched list on YouTube it mostly consists of cat and otter videos so I mean really, do I have much to say?
Well, yeah. Maybe some day I will look back at what I've written and miss who I was. Or maybe I'll be grateful I'm not this girl any more...but anyway. Let's overthink together, shall we? :)
"Even then......I felt His voice take the sword out of my hand."--Judah Ben-Hur
So begins 2014.
As my blogging has ceased recently, so has all of my former senses of propriety, control, and morality. I don't know guys....I've been on a kick. We'll call it that.
There's something therapeutic about blogging. You see your life for what it is--whatever it is--before you, and you have a better idea of where to go from there. I've missed that.
The most common misconception about blogging is that you have nothing to say. Often I think I have nothing to say because well...let's be honest. I don't go to school (the enemy) and I don't go to church (also the enemy) and when I look at my Recently Watched list on YouTube it mostly consists of cat and otter videos so I mean really, do I have much to say?
Well, yeah. Maybe some day I will look back at what I've written and miss who I was. Or maybe I'll be grateful I'm not this girl any more...but anyway. Let's overthink together, shall we? :)
"Even then......I felt His voice take the sword out of my hand."--Judah Ben-Hur
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