in shambles

Highway 58 runs roughly parallel to the Virginia/North Carolina state line, 10-12 miles into VA. You're on this highway for something like two hours when you take the trip from my parents' house to the farm. It's just a little two lane highway; and you were stuck trucking along at a pokey 55mph or slower the entire way until just a few years ago when they granted us 60mph for a fair stretch. Along the banks of the road, it's miles and miles of forest, farmland, cotton and corn crops, mom & pop shops, the occasional cluster of gas stations and fast food restaurants, and not a few decrepit houses.

I took this picture near the end of last semester with my manual camera; not as a project but just for myself. I find most old, run down things utterly fascinating. Unfortunately, this one has a NO TRESPASSING sign, so what is you see is as close as I could get. It was foggy and getting dark on one of my trips back to Greenville and I didn't want to spend a lot of time looking for old buildings without warning signs in front.

Do you ever think about buildings like this one? Somebody bought or possibly chopped the wood that composed it. It was created with intent for a purpose, and I guarantee you that it didn't look this way when it was first completed. This one looks like it's just a very large storage shed; I REALLY love the ones that were once homes. I'll never forget the day Z and went walking in the woods near CIU and went inside a tiny house that had long been abandoned. The wooden floor was bowed in with huge gaping holes between the planks, the air inside was musty and damp and stank of mildew, the windows were smashed, doors dangling from the hinges, and the whole thing stood precariously tilted - not nearly at a 90 degree angle with the ground. Yet there were signs of life strewn about inside - books, furniture in various stages of disrepair, pages, clothes, trash. Someone lived there once... now it would fail to protect even a stray cat from the elements.

What sort of life did those people live? In what decade? Where did they go in such a hurry that they left so many belongings behind? What did the house look like when they left? How much of this damage was caused by looters, how much by natural causes?

The house didn't look that way when it was made. It was clean. It stood upright. It smelled of freshly cut wood. Someone prepared meals, read books, slept, and got dressed and ready for the day from inside that home. The sun rose and fell over that tin roof that pinged whenever it rained. The windows were once whole and clean and looked out into a menagerie of secluded forest. Maybe it was never perfect, maybe it was never even made to last... but those who made it didn't make it in the hopes that it would end up looking like this.

There are a lot of things in life that are like that, y'know? You can build a beautiful house, or dream, or relationship, or physique, or spiritual life, but if you do nothing to preserve it and keep it up, it will eventually weather and decay. Everything takes work to maintain, and the less you do to maintain in the day to day, the more you will have to do later to return something to its former state of beauty... and so much the worse if you don't keep out those who come to steal, kill, and destroy.

Then again, it was always my dream, as I drove by all those leaky roofs and shattered windows, to own one of those houses one day. To get the chance not to rebuild it but to take the good that had once been and make it good again.

[I think there is potential for many good, specific implications of this post, but I'll leave it open-ended for you to make them yourself. (that's code for "I don't have a particular one in mind," lol) happy weekend. ^_^ ]

Some things just don't change.

Without actually counting heads, I'd guess that 2/3 to 3/4 of the group are folks that were still at the Spa when I left. Which is nice - familiarity is a plus, and everybody there was so excited to see me. It felt like coming home. A home where most of the children love each other dearly, but the parents are exasperating.

Reiner and Leah are the only massage therapists that I know. Then you have Chet... and another guy I think, but I haven't met him yet. And they said another guy is supposed to be coming on the team right around the same time I am. Dude. That's a HIGH guy-to-girl ratio, especially in this field. We only ever had Reiner the whole five months I was there before!

Everything seemed just as haphazard as before, just as busy, the same snide, negative remarks about the Spa, the same aches and pains and complaints. The same drama. *shrugs* I was going to keep my eyes open for things to be better, but I wasn't really expecting anything. The new hydro tub that they supposedly purchased last spring was never installed. Neither was the new massage table. I did see a new knee bolster, that was exciting. And they have Tiger Balm in every room for us to use, free of charge.

I missed a call while I was at the gym this morning, taking advantage of the fact that they told me I didn't have to come in till noon. It was the Spa, asking if I could come in early today. How kind of them, to try to give me a chance to make more money. *sigh* Jessica is making a concentrated effort to be positive.

Leah pulled me aside and said, "Nothing has changed. Don't listen to them; you haven't missed a thing." But I've changed. And maybe a different attitude can bring change. I'll keep trying. And I'll keep you posted.

Unemployed.

It's been good for me. I'd not been spending my money wisely and it left me with no wiggle room when I no longer had a check coming in. I'm hoping that a month is long enough to get me to be more frugal even when the money is available. It's gotten me to chill a little bit, too. I mean, I've been spending SO much time job hunting online and driving to places to apply, but I've still had plenty of time to sit and watch a movie at night and scan in my photography finals (and edit them!) and work on my cross stitch and do some independent study things and keep house and take three four-day weekends in a row, LOL. I might even have enjoyed some of these things a little! But I got to thinking as I was climbing Paris Mountain yesterday (good GOSH my butt HURTS!) that I don't know where my heart has been. I mean, I haven't worried. I haven't... worried? I don't care. I'm really scared that God gave me unemployment as a chance to rely on Him, to see a crumbling world around me and trust His goodness in the sight of an unpredictable, terrifying circumstance... and that what I did instead was look Him in the eye with that bland, empty, defiant look (mom knows the one) and ask, "Is that all You got?" Not okay. Not at all. But see... if I had the chance to do it over... I don't know what I could have done differently. That could be because I'm trusting God, or it could be because I'm so numb that

When I say A, what I mean is B.

Girls are stupid. Boys, I offer my profound apologies. I've taken this entry to explain the inner workings of this stupid girl's words. I think some of my answers may not be typical, but at least you'll know ME better, right? ^_^ And it's long, so I've included the questions here at the top (with links to my answers) for your previewing pleasure: Does this look okay? I don't care. That's okay. Here, let me pet you. Did you read my latest blog entry? I'm okay. I'm sad. I'm depressed. I just don't feel very well. Will you do me a favor?


A. Does this look okay?
B. This outfit might not be very flattering, but I need a second opinion. Will you please save me from the humiliation of buying/wearing something awful by telling me IT LOOKS AWFUL?
note: I never did get into asking "Does this make me look fat?" I was always too afraid of people thinking I was obsessed about my weight. Also, there's no nice way to answer it in the negative, which wouldn't be very nice of ME. I don't want to hear that I look fat, so I won't ask a question that forces a person to answer me that way. "It looks awful!!" will suffice.

A. I don't care. (what movie we watch or where we eat or etc.)
B. I don't care. I have no preference. I would like you to make a suggestion and I will say "Let's go!" unless I just really think it would be unwise to watch it or I really hate that kind of food. Wait. I don't hate ANY kind of food. -_-

A. That's okay. (in regard to a question about my opinion of a suggestion)
B. I may or may not have had something else in mind specifically, but what you've suggested is fine. (I promise, I won't judge you for not reading my mind. That's just silly.) I may follow this answer with a suggestion of my own. If you don't like my suggestion, or just really would prefer yours, "That's okay." Cross my heart, I will not hold it against you. Again, if I really didn't like the suggestion, I would have said so to begin with... but there are few things that I feel that strongly about.

A. That's okay. (in regard to a perceived offense)
B. When accompanied by a pleasant though puzzled look, it means I'm simply surprised you thought what you did was offensive. An emotionless response means I noticed but was hoping we could let it slide without drawing attention to it. (like, "accidental boob graze!") That may or may not have bothered me in the moment, but it will pass. With a hearty laugh, it means "I'm glad you see the humor in that too!" With a "hhh" and a *shakes head*, it means "I knew that unneeded apology was coming. :) You're silly."

A. That's okay. ... Actually, can we talk about that?
B. If it's ever NOT okay when I say it is, you can rest assured that I'll either get over it later (because even in the moment, I realize it's not a big deal) or that I'll ask about it later when I've formulated my not-okayness into a question that I hope will become a conversation where my concerns are expressed and my misunderstandings adressed. It is my sincere intent, even if I don't always hold to it, not to bring up past offense once it's been okayed. When I do, it's in the context of that "talk about it later" period. This might come across as me trying to gang up on you for something you DID to me at some point, but what I'm really trying to do is figure out what YOU were really getting at, what prompted your words... I'm trying to say that I don't understand you and I want your help in that regard. I believe you didn't mean what I heard... so tell me what you meant.

A. Here, let me pet you. *pet pet pet*
B. I'm giggling because your foul up was funny, but I'm sympathizing because I do that all the time too. Don't be embarrassed. I'll touch you in a non-threatening way to reconnect and reaffirm you and also lighten the mood and change the subject. Also, yes, I'm being silly. But you know you think I'm cute. :3

A. Did you/Will you read my latest blog entry?
B. I'd like feedback! I want to know if it's poorly written or if my logic doesn't hold up or if I make it sound like I am in rebellion. I want to know if you have a different approach that I didn't seem to consider. Am I crazy??? Is that completely disjointed, irrelevent, and otherwise hard to read? Did I just write a load of bs?
B. Also, sometimes I mean that something about it was written regarding you or a conversation we recently had... or are currently having.

A. I'm okay.
B. ... there is no "right answer" for this one. Sorry. I do try to be consistent with my body language though; for example, if I feel pretty lousy but I know I shouldn't complain, it looks and sounds that way every time that that's my answer. So THAT response looks and sounds nothing like a casual "It was a good day. Nothing to report." I try not to say I'm okay if I really don't feel okay at all; or else I make it PAINFULLY obvious that I'm lying... you asked and I didn't want to give you the silent treatment but I want you to forget you asked.

A. I'm sad.
B. I'm feeling really, really, really bad emotionally. Something feels very wrong with Jessica's world.

A. I'm depressed.
B. Clinically. Do you have any drugs?

A. I just don't feel very well.
B. I don't get sick very often. I'll leave the rest to you to figure out. x_x
B. I confess, this can also be my excuse for not wanting to go out in public. In this case, I'd more often use "I'm tired." Maybe I'm feeling anti-social. Maybe the thought of hanging out with you makes me feel unwell. Maybe I was feeling fine until a second ago when you suggested we go something with a bunch of noisy people - now I can barely keep my eyes open. Regardless, you can trust that I'm going home to take some personal time. Whatever other half-truths I might slip into, I WILL NOT use this sort of line as an excuse to go do something with someone else. igh.

A. Will you do me a favor?
B. This is something I legitimately cannot do, at least not without a great deal of difficulty, by myself. Or else it is so obviously easier for you to do that it would be arrogant not to ask. If I need the remote, I stand up and walk towards it, telling you that I need it with just enough time for you to pick it up and hand it to me, to save us the embarrassment of me reaching over you. I would ask for help if you're standing right there and you can reach some item that I'd need to go fetch a stool for. Or if I'm busy doing something at the moment and since you're not busy, would you help? Good gosh man, I cannot stand it when people ask for favors for no reason other than that they're too lazy to get up and do it themselves. Especially when it's a girl with her man. *blood boils*


I guess... it's important to me that my friends not feel like I'm crouching, ready to pounce with something I had been hiding away for hours or months. There's no way of looking at that as being supportive of trust between two people. Maybe my body language and facial expressions aren't always as revealing as I take them for... and this would be unfortunate, because finding the right words at the right moment is a weak point of mine. There really isn't much that "gets to me" though.

So... did you read this blog? Do you know me well enough to go, "Jessica, seriously? You do not come across this way at ALL." Cuz if that's so, I'd rather hear it than be confused later.

Not better. Or wrong. Just different.

[disclaimer: work in progress. I just hope this is an encouragement to someone... otherwise I'd have kept it private.]

How come there aren't any other kinds of songs? I mean, you have worship songs. And you have a few family/friendship songs. And you have love songs. Lots and LOTS of love songs.

Why doesn't anyone write songs about other things they love? Like reading. Or eating a perfect steak. Or making art. Or teaching. Or helping people get better from illnesses. Or fixing the final glitch in a new invention. Or buying sheuss. (okay, okay, ONE song about sheuss. but it's not serious!) Or drugs. (wait. there probably are a few of those too. n/m)

Think about it. If you're in love, do any of your other interests (spiritual excluded) even come close? Do you feel as passionately about your artistic outlet as you do for your family? If you've been heartbroken, can any other pain compare?

You can't "hobby" yourself out of love. You can numb yourself so hard that you get by tolerably well, but nothing seems right. Hobbies are wonderful things. I believe it's essential to find and pursue activities that you passionately enjoy just in the doing, whether that be a certain job or a certain study or just a walk in the park. But I think the reason you don't hear any serious songs about anything other than relationships might be because we don't care about anything quite so much as we do about our interactions with others. No doubt, inserting that in our make-up was an intentional act by God, as a means to draw our attention back to Him.

And I? I find that I've unwittingly developed a mentality that since I cannot foster a romantic love and find my regular friendships lacking, my next step is simply to develop a passion for something else. But just as friendships could never replace an eros love, and all human relationships disappoint when compared to loving God, so does love of activities fall far short of the satisfaction of love for another. I've been searching for an interest that will surpass my passion for the unattainable, and it's simply impossible. Apples and oranges, my friend. It's as discouraging as expecting a paper airplane to fly as well as a 747. There's every reason to pursue activities that make us happy (within reason) but you'll never match the pleasure that comes from reconciliation after a miscommunication with a friend... by drawing a pretty picture.

I'm in a rut as far as knowing what my next step should be regarding my pursuit of God, even though I know that it's only that relationship that surpasses interests and passions and romance. But it's surprisingly freeing to have made this realization tonight - that the stuff at the bottom of the chain will never be better than the stuff in the middle, as the stuff in the middle would never surpass the One at the top. So I can stop being frustrated that my best efforts don't suffice. I can stop expecting too much of them - expecting them to replace something else - and pursue them as entirely other from the first, simply for their own good.

And... I guess ask God to show me how He's pursuing me, because I'm having trouble finding new ways of pursuing Him.

"Describe how you've felt blessed to be single at some point this year."

That's how my care group leader opened our meeting last night.

Now, for one, let me just say I'm always a little unsure of how to react when, at a singles' group function, we ACTUALLY talk about being single. I can't say as it has ever happened before this one... and now it seems like it happens a LOT. That said.

He wanted to go around the room and have everyone tell a story from the past year of how they'd felt blessed by their single state. I'm sure if he'd had two more hours, he would have inquired of each one of us individually. It struck me as a little overoptimistic to assume that everyone there would have a response, especially since, even over the course of maybe 30 minutes of hearing others' testimonies, I would still have had nothing to say, even if he'd called me out.

Yeah, intellectually I get it. You've got more time on your hands. You're free to go out with friends or stay out late. You can serve more freely in the church. You can eat ice cream cake and popcorn for dinner if you're so inclined. But those are just things that I tell myself to try to make myself feel better. I don't see them as blessings. I know that singleness is a gift, but I'd never call it that and REALLY mean it. I've never felt blessed by it.

On the other hand, at least I can say I don't feel cursed by it. I have no notion of a mean God withholding good things for no good reason. Duh, He's God. And that's my answer to the question Matt closed the meeting with yesterday. He said to share our answers to this question with someone by tomorrow. I have, but I'll share it here as well. The question was - "What can you do to remind yourself of God's goodness in the midst of your single state?" Or something along those lines. My second answer doubles as the best answer I'd have for the first: If it were possible, I WOULD be dating someone. You know, "possible" in the sense of "I like you, you like me, wanna go out? ktnx call me!" But I'm not supposed to be in a relationship right now, therefore I am grateful that God has not even allowed for that temptation. I guess it's circular reasoning - I know I'm not supposed to be because I'm not, and if I were, it would be the right thing, so really, either for the good of the joy or the good of the learning process, I can't go wrong. So basically it amounts to a gratefulness for His omnipotence through space and time. And, y'know, that He cares to bother with that sort of thing.

Personally, I liked singles' group better when we didn't talk about it. I go through my day NOT thinking about it and then go to hear God's Word preached and instead I'm asked to dwell on the very thing I've been trying to avoid. Eh, that's not as true as it used to be. I don't have to try nearly so hard not to think about it as I once did. But still. Like the assumption that alll 20-something of us have actually found blessing in the gift of singleness, I question the wisdom of taking an entire evening to discuss... THAT. For my own sanity, I had to walk out of chapel one time because of that, and that, when I was older than many of the singles there. I simply couldn't handle it. Call it ignorance or immaturity or idolatry and you'd be right, but you'd also have to agree that it did nothing to encourage my soul, either. Doubtless, any number of people were really encouraged by last night's conversation. I... didn't cry. That's gotta count for SOMEthing.

Yeah, can I hear myself. I'm a whiny child who STILL hasn't learned how to fight this battle. I feel like I'm in a group of people who all GET it, who don't need to be babied, who can engage in this sort of conversation without bursting into tears over crushing memories and crushed dreams, who know how to be sad about this without letting it destroy them. I feel like I'm in the wrong class, like I should have been held back a year or something.

I know that marriage isn't that big a deal. That there's nothing wrong with being single, both sides have pros and cons. I know that you never find satisfaction in another person. I know there is no happily ever after. Relationships aren't the answer. So... how 'bout let's talk about something else, eh?

the driving force

I have a theory.

I could be wrong. If so, I apologize. It's not personal. I still love you. But I'm curious about the difference between men, women, and defining terms regarding driving.

Joseph says he's a very good driver, for example. Possibly one of the best he knows. He's proud to be a good driver. And I love Joseph dearly, but he's pretty scary out on the road. He's good AT driving, but I'd never say to another woman, "Yes, he's a good driver." Although come to think of it, I might tell another guy that he's a good driver. Hmm.

So here's my idea. I think that girls in general (please don't throw any fruit at me. generalizations are okay, I swear) would define "good" driving as "safe" driving. But when a guy says he's a "good driver" what he means is that he's a "skilled driver," which often includes what moms all over the country would consider "reckless" driving. He means that he's capable of operating the vehicle... even to its fullest potential. Of 130mph. So when crossing definitions between species, the problem arises that not all good driving is terribly skilled, but neither is all skilled driving good.

Has anyone else run into this problem...?

(And guys, on behalf of all the girls who are neither good nor skilled, I offer my profound apologies. )

thinking is a good idea.

Equilibrium
Wall E
Minority Report
Bruce Almighty
Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
The Matrix

I'm lazy. I don't always think things through to their end result or logical end. For example, if I were so consistent as to make it a habit, it would be natural to see awful situations in light of God's goodness. But I'm not and I don't. Not always. That is, perhaps, one of the things I like best about movies that DO incorporate this principle, like the movies I listed above.

Don't take for granted that things are what people say they are. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. You don't REALLY want everything you ever wished for. Don't make decisions/allowances (they may or may not seem extreme at the time) without taking into account where you'll end up.

I like it when movies present the viewer with extremes that are the consequences of every day choices, little slip-ups, decisions to take the path of least resistance.

Of course, with our new president and articles like this and this, I've been thinking more about the political ramifications. The government has only as much power as we've given it, but will use every bit of power that it has. Who's to stop it when we realize that it's been given enough power - due to the fine print and the obscure meanings and convincing us that convenience is more important than the life of another - to force us to do things we never meant? Worse yet, what if people never realize it? It's like a ship full of morbidly obese people who haven't stood in years but instead accept as reality the sugar-coated talk about food, pleasure, and commercials placed in front of their eyes. They might wake up enough to stop listening to the "do what feels good" shite to turn off the screen, but their muscles have long atrophied beyond being able to DO anything about where they are and where they're being lead.

There's just something beautiful about it.

A day that's too cool for shorts but warm enough to turn off the heat and sit inside with the door open.

The sun's path has been deterred by leaves and branches, the railing on the patio, and finally by the half open blinds inside and for a second you find yourself wondering if it's the leaves dancing... or the rays themselves. Tiny spots of yellow-white light dance on the glossy leaves outside, some green, some still brown.

And with all the white noise turned off inside, you can actually hear the sounds floating in through the screen door. The wind whipping through the trees playfully like a lover with his beloved's hair. There also comes the occasional wind chime, melodic in its unpredictability; gentle, clear, and strong without being overbearing. And oh, the birds! The tweets and chirps of their songs as they dash by, they complete the call.

There's something irresistible about it. Once you hear it, really hear it, you cannot help but obey the command to be still, to listen, to relax. A call to peace.

Everyone's a little bit racist.

No, really. It's a song. But be careful - it's from Avenue Q. I take no responsibility for your sensibilities being offended if you read or listen to it.


Racism oftentimes falls into that same category that I talked about in my last post. Shawndra and Sarah have never met, never once spoken words to each other. But Shawndra thinks that because Sarah has a different colored skin than she, Sarah has already judged her for her color without getting to know her. She’s already judged Sarah for judging her, based on Sarah’s race.

… right. I don’t have a lot of sympathy for racists who complain about racism.

If I were to say I’m not romantically attracted to Asian men, I would sound racist. But if I say I don’t like fat men, it’s read as a personal preference and you think nothing of it. So my personal preference is Caucasian. Is that really as wrong as I’ve been conditioned to believe?

And when I’m out in public, I shy away from folks of ANY race who dress like they’re in a gang. I make judgments on their lifestyles based on what they wear. (Just like most people would make a judgment on my lifestyle if I wore skimpy clothes all the time, or really dark make-up with all-black attire.) I'm pretty sure that's kind of an unavoidable part of being human - one of those primal instincts sorts of things. Unfortunately, most of the guys who have the appearance of being in a gang are African American. Am I being racist or trying to stay away from a potentially dangerous situation?

You can’t do anything about your racial background, but how you dress, how you carry yourself, how you treat other people, and your decision to judge people for judging you (whether you have any reason to believe they have or not) are all choices you have to make.

I went to a salon a week ago to get a haircut. Two good looking, well dressed, white men had come to the office and sold me a package deal for a price I couldn’t refuse (back when I had a job) and this was my first visit to the place. It’s very… ethnic. The building was once a large home and is still decorated like one – large African-style wooden sculptures, stylized drawings on the walls of African women dancing, race-generic metal sculptures of jazz players on the table. I was the only white person in the place. And I judged them because I thought they were judging me. What was I doing there? I didn’t fit in. That’s not my culture. I don’t think I could dance like that if I tried. But they were kind enough to treat me like one of their own, blond hair and all. They even talked about bringing me on the team as a massage therapist (haven’t heard back… definitely need to follow up on that).

And maybe my experience here was more one of “I shy away from you because we’re just too different” in the same way that it’s easy to treat the poor or the old or the crippled or the profoundly home-schooled. It’s natural to gravitate toward those who have things in common with us. If there were a person of a different skin color from mine who seemed like a decent person and was in my drawing class and we struck up a conversation because I recognized the music she was listening to as one of my favorite artists, we’ve got all the ingredients for a potential friendship, regardless of race. On the other hand, I was fascinated by the decorations in the salon, but I didn’t LIKE them. I wasn’t much for the music they played either. These preferences were something I had a hard time appreciating because it seems indicative of racial pride. “I’m proud of my heritage – see how I’ve decorated my work space?” I can’t relate to that because I don’t have any sort of racial pride whatsoever. I’m just your average white mutt. My decorations in my home are race-neutral. In fact, I think I have more pictures of cats than of people on my walls. -_-

I’m rambling. But you know how I roll – I had bouncy thoughts and I was finally ready to ramble. (rumble?) I’m composing this in a Word doc and it’s over a page long, single spaced. I’m so sorry! But in closing... everyone's a little bit racist. And I think we'd all do well to quit trying to figure out how we're being judged, take the time to appreciate the differences (and there ARE differences. you start spouting some nonsense about how blacks and whites and men and women are all the same... you've gotta be crazy), and just Be a little.

around and around we go

So Jack and Jill are friends. Jill has gone over to Jack's house for a party and Jack comes in a little later with Jane. Now, Jane and Jill have never met before, but both speak English, both are fully capable of introducing themselves, and they shake hands without outside prompting and meet. Jack gets a little flustered and apologizes profusely, "I'm so sorry! I forgot you guys didn't know each other or else I would have introduced you." Jill and Jane stammer "no problems" and cast their eyes down in embarrassment. Why was Jack embarrassed? There was a long unspoken rule of courtesy that was broken and he was afraid that one or both of his friends were offended or mad at him for it. Why were the girls embarrassed? Because Jack's reaction betrayed the fact that he didn't trust them to be able to handle introductions themselves... he accused them of being mad at him when they'd been perfectly fine and hadn't thought of the faux pas at all. They had thought of it now, though, of course, and so follow snide remarks about guys being throughtless to lighten the mood. Or how about this - how many times a day do you hear this conversation? "Thank you so much!" "Oh, it was nothing." "No, you were really great!" "Oh all right, well thanks." What's that all about? I mean really. Words have been stripped bare of all their meaning. Phrases, no, entire conversations tossed around without any real purpose or value. We're afraid to take a compliment for fear of seeming proud for something worth being proud of. And by the end of the conversation, this plastic humility with which we've cloaked ourselves is practically transparent to the underlying fear of man and striving for approval. But both parties are so busy with the dressing process that neither notice that it's a waste of time. It's a dance that we feel obligated to take part in, but in the end, everyone's sweating nervously and no one's had any fun. Or what about the homosexuals? The pro-choicers, the drug addicts, the eating disordered? They get all in a tizzy for being told they're wrong because they think they're being judged as people. The problem is, so much of the time, they ARE, even by those who swear up and down that it's out of love for the man, hatred for the sin. Do we really differentiate as much as we say we do? I want to be confused by the accusation that I did not speak out of love; not scramble to find a viable excuse for my words because the gut motivation for my words is less than flattering to myself AND to them as human beings. We talked about the love of God at Bible study on Tuesday. How God loves Himself more than He loves us... and that it would be inherently Wrong to do otherwise. I had a conversation with Dan today and he took it further - that the most loving thing that a perfect being can do is to create beings whose sole purpose is to bask in His perfection. I wish I could just will away all the fear. No more heartless apologies for mishaps that don't warrant them; apologies that are offered not really because of the insensitivity but because you worry that someone thought you insensitive. No more meaningless compliments and receipts thereof. No more self-righteous judgments that spawn fear and expectation of more truth spread by candy coated mock piety. Just glorying in the beauty of God, His creation, and the ways we bear His image. I'm just as prone to it as anyone... it's just that I'm starting to notice it for what it is... enough to be irritated by it when I catch it in myself and others; not early enough to stop it.

contradictions

"Don't sweat the small stuff," so they say.
"It's the little things in life," so they say.
What are they talking about?

It's like, don't worry about the little things. Don't micro-focus. Look at the big picture. Live in light of the good to come.
But then it's like, carpe diem. Make the most of this moment. Find joy in the mini victories. Do what you like and like what you do.
No wonder my head's such a mess.

I'm trying to overlook the pains of day to day life while focusing all my attention on the "sweet nothings" of that same day to day life. I'm trying to use a telescope and a microscope at the same time and all I get is confused. The only answer I've come up with so far is, "Whatever is excellent (etc. etc.) think about such things," and even that falls short because it's also "true and right" that "bad things" happen.

I mean, is it a case by case basis? If I'm discouraged by the fact that I have no passion, I should seek it in things of less importance than my normal fare? And if I'm discouraged by the fact that "everything's going wrong today," I need to dwell on the big things that REALLY matter because I mean face it, the little stuff doesn't matter. But wait, the little stuff gets me through the days of no passion.... So I guess I'm outta luck if everything goes wrong on a passionless day. -_-

The most true, the most noble, the most right thing available is God Himself. Think about Him. Well, I can only do that SO much, right? I mean, outside of a convent, there are things that need to be done other than quiet meditation 24/7. We're expected to work and support our living situation and cultivate relationships and all of these things in light of God's goodness. I need a theology that is more than a distraction. "Don't think about that. Think about God." Sometimes that will indeed solve the problem. But sometimes it just masks it and makes it worse for later.

I mean, okay. If you think about God instead of your problem, and you grow that habit, chances are good that you'll start to see circumstances in light of His goodness and grace and you won't be rocked by them. But that is no small feat to get to the point where that thought process is so habitual as to give that result. Meanwhile you're either stuffing the problem or indulging in it. What do I do TODAY? What do I do at the end of a day when I may or may not have done anything that seemed worthwhile at the time or to my logic but I lay down at night feeling like it was all a facade. Like I'm just doing stuff to do stuff and there's no heart behind it.

I had a good day; my only complaint is that everything still feels so shallow, like I'm missing a key element.

I've been thinking about this stuff for a long time. It's... still a work in progress. Also, it's time for bed. G'night all.

The Secret Garden

Did you ever read it? I did. Mine was a giant book (at least 8.5x11) with a thick hardback cover and uneven edges on the pages. Growing up in my school, we were required to read for 15 minutes, X number of times a week. In my ignorance, then, my job was to read words for 15 minutes. Who wants to bother with the trouble of comprehension? No wonder I have such a poor retention rate. Needless to say, since I was quite young at the time, I don't remember much at all from the book (and what I do remember might well be from a movie version) other than that there was a sick kid in a big house and a lonely girl who found a key that fit a door all covered over in vines that opened to an abandoned garden.

I liked that idea. That was the sort of story that I would make up for myself when I spent my recess periods hiding under the steps of the apartment next to our elementary school playground. Tiny places, secret hideouts, mystery and adventure of the mind.

The reason I was thinking about this was because there are a lot of alley ways in Charleston that look like they should lead to a secret garden. Very narrow, framed by old stones and bricks and canopied by vines... you never know where those paths will take you; they practically scream to be investigated. Alleys like that could turn a corner and drop you into Anthropos or Narnia or have an old red bike at the end that will fly you away.

Is this an "every girl's dream" sort of fascination, or am I weird like that?

naughty words

Words. Nothing but bunches of letters put together in different orders, but our brains learn to decipher them and interpret them to have meaning, and different meanings for different contexts. So it's okay to speak of those who are going to hell as "damned." And the creature that Mary supposedly rode to Bethlehem was an "ass." And a female dog is a "bitch." There's nothing inherently wrong with words. So why do good little Christian children fear certain words? We're only told that we're not supposed to say certain things; that certain combinations of letters are inherently evil. As we grow older, I think most of us either simply decide to rebel, decide it's not that big of a deal, or maintain that restraint for fear of offending someone (or our own consciences). I had dinner last week with my pastor's family. They have four small children who are wild and crazy as any children should be at that age, and were showing me the latest dance moves that they had dreamed up. I was laughing and remarking at them... until I saw the youngest girl lean over to her dad and tell him that I'd said a bad word. I don't know what it was that I said... thought it might have been "Dang!" at the time, but when I asked Matt about it after the kids had gone to bed, he said it could have been something like, "Man!" As in, "Man, that's so cool!" "Man" is not a word I'd ever heard to be ranked as a bad word before, so obviously I thought his explanation was blogworthy. They don't teach their kids that certain words are bad words in and of themselves. They tell them that words used in anger or rebellion are bad. So in the sentence, "Aw man, do I have to?" "man" is a word that reveals a bad attitude. Now, will a four year old understand that distinction? Obviously not, at least not entirely, because I didn't say it in that context and she still interpreted it as a bad word. But the rule came with a teaching; it wasn't just a blanket, "You need to use a different word, honey." I thought that was really cool.