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.