To Zoe.

To my faithful and single reader... Hi Zoe. I'm glad you're my friend and you talk to me about things that are hard when it's easier not to tell me anything. I love you for your need to be straight about things. Merry Christmas.

The black void that is my future....

Today I perused the Peace Corps website. Again. For over 6 years I've been thinking about the Peace Corps and I still haven't applied. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever actually go. I also printed out an application for Grad School and a teaching fellowship at OU. It's like high school all over again... People want to know your plans after you graduate. I'm tempted to try covering all the options but it would all be out of a need to feel some sense of security. In High School when I prayed about where to go to college and whether or not Ohio University was too far away, God just said, "Where can you flee from me? In the mountains? In the valleys? Even there, I'll be with you." That was enough. It still is. I'm not as strong as I used to be and I'm a lot more scared all the time too, but his promises are independent of my petty insecurities. I don't know what I'm doing. It's terrifying and it's been a long time since I let myself free fall into God's plan. Maybe I don't even know how anymore.

There's nothing like being told you are humble to make you feel prideful. Seriously. Goes straight to my head. It's incredibly annoying.

Ferris Wheels and Knickers

Next Monday is my birthday. I detest birthdays. They make people feel entitled to the attentions of others. They find themselves in one of two categories at the end of a Ferris Wheel day brimming with cyclically paranoid emotions. Either they wake up and realize their day is pretty much the same as other days and find disappointment for feeling disappointed. Or if they are met with a shower of attention from family and friends, they are morbidly repulsed by the very tenders to which they previously felt entitled.

This Monday I will embark on the pinnacle of my collegiate career. Most of my classmates in the Education field have had a fraction of the time and experience in classrooms that I have been blessed with having before student teaching. They're justifiably shaking in their carefully selected teaching knickers. Regardless of experience and preparation, I am too. In the sage words of a Mr. Bruce Dalzell, seasoned performer, "It's just because you care." Thanks, Brucie.

Friendly Reminders

Interesting night Thursday night. I was sick. REALLY sick. Sweating and shivering, towel-over-eyes-lying-under-blankets-hugging-a-trashcan kind of sick. It's strange, but there are only two people I ever want to talk to at times like those. My mom and God. Seeing that I haven't talked to either in far too long, it seemed like a good and wretched reminder.

Not Enough

Tonight was Halloween in Athens. As a Freshman, I went to the big party on Court Street with my friends and was amazed at how insane everything was. I had fun dancing and shuffling from one end to the other, enjoying all the costumes, whining about how cold it was and "why didn't I think of a warmer costume???" I haven't gone since then... Once was definitely enough. But my friends still go. It's always like this, every weekend. Since I DON'T go out they assume it's okay for me to be the temporary mom... The one who can give them a ride if they're tired or cold, the one who will watch a movie with them when they get back, the one who cleans up their puke when they have had too much to drink, etc. As stupid as it sounds, it's okay. I know that I can love them by taking care of them when they are vulnerable. And they have always proven to be good friends to me when I've had a rough time. But this Halloween I found myself stretched. I feel like I'm ripped in half and I can't handle feeling like that. Another Halloween over and another friend calls, sobbing, because she's so wasted and feels miserable and she's all alone because everyone else is drunk and went uptown to the party. No, it's not a problem for me to drop everything. No, it's not a problem that there isn't any parking and I will walk. I'll be there as soon as I can. It's okay. Everything's fine. You're okay. Here, have some water. Here, let's put some pajamas on. Let's just eat some toast and watch a movie until you feel a little better before you go to sleep. I know you're tired, but if you go to sleep right now you'll get sick in your bed, and we don't want to clean that up, do we? and on and on it goes... Typical.

But what about when I want desperately to be there for someone who actually is searching for God and I can love them, too? What about when I'm already there, being that person for someone who needs me when this other person searching calls and wants me to come find them? God may have been able to be in two places but I can't. I have to say, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't be there for you" Why? My heart bleeds out... For the one whose search is left in disappointment and for the one who fills her life with placebos to make everything feel all right for a while.

Tall Tale

I leave for Europe in 36 hours. So last night I visited my grandparents in Michigan... I love them so much sometimes it almost hurts. My dad always told me crazy stories growing up... Stories so ridiculous I never could tell if they were true or not. As stupid as it sounds, it's very much like the movie Big Fish. Anyway, my grandpa is the same way. He's been pretty sick lately though and so he didn't tell very many stories last night. My grandma, on the other hand, DID tell me a new story I enjoyed very much... The weirdest part is, since they are getting older and both have been having health problems, they started showing me stuff... Newspaper clippings, photographs, records, etc that prove these ridiculous stories really happened. Here's what I learned last night about my grandmother:

She got married when she was 16 in 1955. In 1960, when she was 21, she and my grandpa decided to go to the races like they often did. On this particular day they announced they needed a driver to take the place of someone who dropped out. My grandma volunteered. She drove a red car that she, "thought was the prettiest" out of all the other cars. Then, with pin curlers in her hair and my grandpa sitting in the audience with my dad (who would have been 4 at the time), she won the race. There's a picture of her holding the checkered flag with a trophy. I asked her why she did it. She said, "I don't really know. I was young. I wasn't scared of anything and I guess it sounded like fun." She was later told the car she drove had never won a race before. I like to think it was the winning car simply because my grandma was driving it.

I would hope when the time came for me to race, I would have the guts to jump in the car.. Even if it was a faulty car, if I hadn't planned on racing, if I had curlers in my hair, even with the stereotypes all women have bent under for years. Against all the worldly odds, to compete and to win.

Emotionalism

"Keep them watching their own minds and trying to produce feelings there by the action of their own wills. When they meant to ask for charity, let them, instead, start manufacturing charitable feelings for themselves and not notice this is what they are doing... Teach them to estimate the value of each prayer by their success in producing the desired feeling..."-- Screwtape

.... Guilty.....

This book is killing me.

The List

WOAH. I found a stack of papers, notes, journal pages, etc while I was home going through boxes. Some of them were pretty old. But... In with all the other stuff... I found... THE LIST, and I quote:

#1. We both marry other people (and in this scenario, we're neighbors)
#2. One of us gets married (and I always, without fail, imagine it's you) and the other dies alone.
#3. Neither of us gets married.
#4. I die before getting married-- Probably of heartbreak.
#5. We marry each other. And, no matter how many times I work through these and think about it, this last one is the only one that makes sense.

WOAH. Okay, I didn't remember it looking/sounding like that. AND THEN I found a REPLY which I told him... I don't know why I have his list written out, but I remember now after reading it that I was so freaked out I had to physically write down a succinct reply. And I quote:

"I've questioned our relationship-- Especially since you came to visit. Don't take that the wrong way. I'm not saying I want anything. But I wanted you to know that. But I do believe, after a bit of reading, there are two things you should hear:

#1. Always be a real and genuine representation of Christ.
#2. Chapter 13 of 2Chronicles says the man who truly follows the Lord will be victorious over the man who merely THINKS he is following the Lord."

I definitely didn't remember saying that.... I remembered saying NO! I remembered closing that door with a resoundingly undoubtable shut. I AM FREAKING OUT. What was that whole mess? What IS that whole mess? It was so long ago, I shouldn't even care... Should I?

Juggling fruit

I've felt quite detached lately. This is probably a good sign that I AM detached. I always need people to tell me that I haven't been hanging out with them for me to actually realize that I am doing too many things or working too much or reading too much or spending too much time at the library etc, etc, etc. Actually, it usually takes a couple people for me to realize it.

Last week my mom and sister called/texted me so many times I thought my phone was going to die. Apparently they thought something was wrong with me because I don't normally go so long without calling them back. Then I scrolled through my phone and looked at my text messages. There were over a dozen that said some variation of, "Where are you?" or "Are you ever coming home?"

I've been neglectful of all my relationships for much too long. There's a metaphor in Shakespeare's King Richard II where the gardeners are talking about how the King's garden is in complete disarray. It parallels how King Richard has taken care of the Kingdom... The plants are all overgrown and some are wilting and some are burdened with over ripened fruit. Anyway... I just feel pretty lame for letting the garden I've been given get out of control. What's worse, I feel overwhelmed with just how out of control I have let it become. Can it ever be what it used to be? I'm a failure at this juggling act.

Syntax

The past couple weeks I have thought about spiritual maturity. Today I actually looked up multiple definitions for "maturity" just to see what exactly that means. Every possible definition has to do with being "fully developed". With that in consideration, a person could not be "more mature" or "less mature" because it just is not possible. You either are or you aren't mature, by definition. For example, something can't be "more perfect" and something can't be "more unique". It just IS perfect/unique or it isn't. If we are looking at maturity syntactically, I don't think maturity is ever really possible. No one is ever spiritually "fully developed". We are continually growing as God causes us to grow. So why do I continue to compare myself now with myself 3 years ago? It will only work to narrow my vision of the spiritually developed person God is shaping me to be.

A sleepy list

The past couple weeks have been ridiculously busy. Even now, I'm exhausted but am writing this post just because I wanted to say a couple things which are more important than sleep is to me right now... (but seriously, after I post this... Going to crash)

#1. I don't know anything. It's terribly amazing.
#2. Reading posts by Zoe Davis makes me happy.
#3. God has a plan for my life. Sometimes I try to figure out what that plan is before it is time to know... I wonder if it's like when kids look for their Christmas presents when their parents aren't around.
#4. My life and all the events in it are never really as important or dramatic as I think.

"The thing which is not"

The past 6 months I've been struggling to put me finger on a bother I could not seem to apprehend. I realized it this week and it's a worse feeling knowing what I thought I wanted to know. Here's the great tension I've been feeling... There seems to be some kind of arguable chasm between intellectualism and faith. For reasons I have yet to fully understand, this breaks me. It's like Neo-Classical versus Romanticism. Logic versus passion. Structured reason and belief seeded in emotional inspiration. The two are so different in my mind it is hard for me to grasp how (if it is possible) both kinds of thinking can rest in that big iconic symbol we call "Faith".

Does a person have to sacrifice faith to gain intellectualism?
I don't believe so, but I have no proof of why.... Grasping at faithful straws.

Steak

Lately I've been getting these calls from the same 404 phone number. They call at least a couple times a week and never leave a message... ever. I was annoyed but today I thought, "whoever this is, they are incredibly persistent about whatever information they don't want to leave in a message." I chose to put my ponderings to investigative efforts and typed the phone number into google to see what I could find. Apparently TONS of other people have been getting these "stalker" calls. I laughed out loud when I read all the angry comments about how many times the mystery number calls and never leaves messages. One poor schmuck just said, "8 calls.... 2 days."
Anyway, from what I can tell it is a steak company trying to telemarket their stuff. Persistent steak selling.

Dad

My dad is 52, balding, and has been described as "A tomato with legs". I love him for reasons children tend to love their parents... Maybe it's a defense of the psyche to love your parents. You find yourself so much like them without trying, and if they've lived that long, they must be doing something you should be doing. Anyway, everyday I find myself more and more freakishly like my dad. There are some striking differences, though.

My dad informed us on our way to the Esterline Christmas party of a few points of interest concerning his evolving musical tastes.
His favorite song used to be "No Diggity, No Doubt" until this year... now it is, "All the Single Ladies" (But he also likes the Lollipop song)
Whether or not he understands what he is listening to is unclear. Then there is my personal favorite quote from the day:
"Lil' Wayne is the greatest musician of all time"
-- personally I might have gone with something more cliche like The Beatles. Or what about someone like Mozart? Or even my favorite Louis Armstrong? But as I mentioned earlier, I'm only 21, what do I know? Lil' Wayne it is.

When I saw him today he had a dead deer just lying in the grass of our front lawn. I said, "Dad, why's there a dead animal in the yard?" He said, "I'm going to take the fur for a nice coat". He won't. But the image of him wearing deer fur kind of makes me laugh. When I asked him where Grandma Kresse was and why she wasn't at Christmas he said, "oh she went missing about a year ago... No one's seen her" I asked, "Why didn't anyone tell me?" He replied, "Didn't think it was important. Someone will find her eventually." "Is anyone LOOKING for her?" and he thought for a minute and said, "I think so..."

I don't know why, but some of the things he says (in retrospect) are too funny for me not to record. There are too many stories he has told me. I never know what's the truth, actually. It's a bit ridiculous.