I don't really distinguish between miracles and science. To me, science (especially medical science) is miraculous. The more i learn about science, the more i appreciate God's sense of design, His plans and attention to detail, His desire for us to connect to one another.
Take body donations, for example. We can donate so many different body parts after we die: organs, skin, even corneas. While alive, we can donate blood, platelets, plasma, bone marrow, stem cells, and even kidneys. Think about it: we all get two kidneys at birth, but we really only need one to survive. We get a spare, so that we can give one away if someone needs a new kidney.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, because nearly seven years ago, a group called Be The Match visited my campus. I was a college sophomore at the time, and had given blood a handful of times before. My blood giving was sometimes interrupted by my tattoos, but i gave whenever i could. But this was something entirely new.
Be The Match was asking people to join the national donor registry. They collect DNA samples to simplify the search process when someone needs bone marrow. You fill out a form, swab your cheek, and they email you a few times a year to keep you in the loop about what the organization is up to. I signed up immediately. I heard from them about a possible donation once, but mostly they left me alone.
Until about a week before my birthday.
A 39 year old man with leukemia was a match for my DNA. They can't and didn't tell me anything else about him. I told them i was still interested in donating, and we started the process. So far, i've signed a consent form and reviewed my medical history over the phone. I'm scheduled for a physical at the beginning of January, and will begin injections of filgrastim to increase the stem cells in my blood. The only real side effect to this is flu-like aches. After five days of injections, i'll be hooked up to two needles. One will draw stem cell-y blood and pass it into a machine which will filter out the stem cells, and the other will put the blood back. I've been told to expect slight soreness and extreme exhaustion for a day or two following this procedure.
After that, it's all over. Within a week, i'll be back to normal. I may or may not be asked to donate again.
I don't ever plan to have kids. I like kids a lot, especially up to the age of about four, but i don't have any desire or need to have them myself. Like when you see someone wearing a cute outfit that looks great on them but isn't at all your style: i'm happy for you that you have a baby and that you are happy with your life choices, but i'm all set over here, thanks.
But this feels a little like what i imagine it feels like to find out you are going to have a baby. To realize that your body has this amazing potential to create and sustain life; to understand that your body is going to give life to another person; to know that you will give up some measure of comfort and control, will experience pain, will give up time for doctor's visits and injections and long phone calls about your medical history; and to know that at the end of all of it, someone will receive life because of your sacrifice, is almost unbearably awesome. I am nervous about the pain. I am nervous about the stress. I am nervous about the time commitment. I am beyond thrilled to be able to do this.
I can't stop telling people about it. I realize that it's a little inelegant to do so, that it's like bragging about how charitable i am, but i can't help it. I am so in awe of the science involved (i'm getting five injections to MAKE MORE STEM CELLS! and then i'm GIVING STEM CELLS TO A PERSON SO THEY CAN LIVE!), and so thrilled to discover the power and potential of my own body. I am so glad to be able to help someone who needs it. I want so badly for more people to donate whatever body parts they can, whenever they are asked to do so, because why wouldn't you?! Who doesn't want to witness a miracle? Who doesn't want to BE a miracle?
It's a birthday miracle for me, and a Christmas miracle for this man and his family. It's science and research and medicine and technology. It's prayer and a willingness to sacrifice and serve. It's biology and chemistry. It's communication and contact. It's cotton swabs and needles.
We are all stardust. We are all stem cells.
Showing posts with label blessing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blessing. Show all posts
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
one for the history books
First Wendy Davis, then DOMA, and now Prop 8. This is a good day to be an American.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Exodus 7-40, Leviticus 1-24
The schedule i set up for my Bible reading (back in May) really has me powering through the Old Testament. Which is fine with me; i've read the books of the Law approximately seven times in their entirety, and i was in a weekly Bible study on Leviticus last semester, so i feel like i don't need to take that much time with it.
Also, i need to be honest: i'm kind of in a dry spell right now, spiritually.
Faith goes through seasons, just like everything else in life (to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven), but Christians are sometimes made to feel guilt about being in one season or another. I've heard preachers saying that every day should be full of joy, that we should be overflowing with joy in Christ, that we should be so full of the boundless love and grace and mercy that we have received that nothing can bring us down.
I have a friend who suffered from clinical depression and was told to pray more and deepen her faith, and that Christ would fill her with joy.
Because nothing balances the chemicals in my brain like yet another fucking chorus of "Our God Reigns".
This semester, my Bible study is focusing on the non-fuzzy images of God. We're looking at the Jesus who hurled racial slurs at a woman who asked for His help, the Christ who withered a fig tree because it wasn't bearing fruit, at the God who ordered the slaughter of babies, the God who sent lying angels to prophets so that people would die. We're looking at Hagar, who got pile after pile of rancid shit dumped on her, and was ignored by God, except for when He was telling her to go back and take more abuse.
Last week, i went to a writing retreat where Benji talked about how the Church doesn't have sad songs. The Bible has psalms of lament, where we talk about how life sucks and we don't know why God won't rescue us. But in modern Christian contexts, the best we get is "Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, 'It is well, it is well with my soul." We don't make room for doubt, for sorrow, for anger. We must be happy.
In our Bible study, Benji said that theology should be "a testimony for conversion". In other words, what we say about God should make people want to know Him for themselves. This does NOT mean that you should walk up to strangers in the parking lot of a rest stop in New Jersey, hand them a tract, and tell them that God wants to save them from their sins (this happened to me over Christmas vacation). What it means is, the things you believe about God, the things you know about God, the things you say about God, should be compelling and attractive.
That doesn't necessarily mean that you should tell people that everything with Jesus is sunshine and roses. Even Jesus didn't say that (the Son of Man has no place to lay His head, He came to turn families against each other, people are going to hate you and treat you terribly, etc.) If i asked someone about their religion and they said, "It makes everything happy forever!", i would run away.
Some day, someone you love will die. If it hasn't happened already, it will. My grandmother is dead. My great aunt is dead. One of my friends is dying. My parents will die. My cousins will die. My siblings will die. My spouse, my kids, my co-workers, my pastor, my professors, my favorite musicians, the students i teach. Everyone i know and love will die some day. I will die. And maybe i'll go before some of the people i know and love and won't have to be there when it happens, but that just means that they will have to mourn my death.
People die. It's a part of life. And it is good and right to mourn them. We may be able to draw some comfort by thoughts of them in a happy afterlife, or by knowing that their pain and sickness are ended, but the reality is that they are dead in a box in the ground, rotting away. They will never again laugh with you. They will never again cry with you. They will not see you grow old. You will not see them grow old. My friend who is dying is in his 20s. I will never dance at his wedding, never meet his children, never tease him for his grey hairs. And it is good and right to mourn this.
And there's a whole lot of other shit in life, too. People get sick and injured. Children get raped. People get fired. Hearts get broken. Spouses cheat on one another and lie about it. Houses burn down. Cancer exists. Homelessness exists. Malnutrition, starvation, poverty exist. Do you ever think about how fucked up it is that we have social workers? We have people whose job is to make sure you are taking care of your kids, and to remove them from your care if you are not. They make sure you are going to rehab. They make sure your kids are going to school. They make sure that there is food in the refrigerator and that you are not doing drugs or having sex in front of your toddler. Because there are SO MANY people who cannot take care of their own lives and the lives of their children that we have entire undergraduate, graduate, and postgraduate programs devoted to training other people to take care of them.
There is a whole lot of shit in life, and it is right and good to mourn it. It is right and good to be angry over it. It is right and good to respond with negative emotions to these things. There are only two ways to completely remove yourself from all negative emotional response: heavy doses of psychiatric medication and death. Meds can also dull or remove positive feelings, and death is, well, death. A religion that promises that everything will be sunny all the time always is either lying or deluded, and either way you shouldn't drink any kool-aid they offer you.
I'm still reading my Bible. I'm still praying. I'm still having spiritual conversations with people, still writing about my feelings, still processing. I'm still a Christian. I'm still a doubter. Recently, someone asked me the question i've been fearing: what's the point of religion? Bad things still happen to good people, and there are good people who are not Christians, and even some good people who don't believe in any God at all, so what are you getting out of it?
I told him i didn't know. I don't know why i have faith. I don't know what i'm getting out of this whole religion thing.
This is true and not true. I can't point you to the pile of gold i've amassed because of God's financial blessings on my life. I can't point you to the perfect job He provided for me. My brother may be alive, but he's lost a leg and a year of his life and lots of memories and joy and God may have brought him miraculously out of his injuries but God still allowed him to be injured in the first place. I can't give you a bulleted list of reasons to follow God. I can't show you tangible things that God has done in my life. I believe that i have experienced miracles, but they all come with caveats (my brother's miraculous recovery wouldn't have been necessary if God hadn't let him be blown up in the first place).
But if you're in religion for what you're getting out of it, you're missing the point. I can tell you things that i've "gotten out of" my relationship with my boyfriend, but i'm not with him because he buys me nice presents or takes me out to eat or listens to me complain. I'm not with him because of what i'm "getting out of" the relationship. If that was all i wanted, i'd be dating someone with more money and time to lavish on me.
I'm with my boyfriend because i love him, and he loves me. I'm with God because i love Him, and He loves me.
I'm still mad at Him for a lot of the stuff in the Old and New Testaments. I'm mad at Him because of my brother, and because of the shooting in Connecticut, and because of people who say that God hates fags, and because of poverty and cancer and AIDS, and because i don't have enough money to student teach and buy everything i want from Amazon, and because my parents are divorced and shouldn't have been married in the first place so maybe i shouldn't even be alive, and because Republicans keep trying to take rights away from women and non-whites, and because of earthquakes and tsunamis and war and oppression and starvation and mental illness.
But being in a relationship means experiencing a whole range of shifting emotions, sometimes even many emotions at once. And my God lets me work through that stuff, even when that means i yell at Him or don't represent Him well to others or regard my personal devotional time with Him as a chore.
So i guess what i'm "getting out of" this is a love greater and freer and fuller and more compelling and empowering and gracious and overwhelming and gentle and sweet than any love i have ever known. It's a love that enables me to love better. It's a love that makes me better. It's a love that withstands my anger and weariness and confusion. And i don't know how to say any of that in a way that makes other people want to know God too, but i guess that's something that He and i can work on.
Also, i need to be honest: i'm kind of in a dry spell right now, spiritually.
Faith goes through seasons, just like everything else in life (to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven), but Christians are sometimes made to feel guilt about being in one season or another. I've heard preachers saying that every day should be full of joy, that we should be overflowing with joy in Christ, that we should be so full of the boundless love and grace and mercy that we have received that nothing can bring us down.
I have a friend who suffered from clinical depression and was told to pray more and deepen her faith, and that Christ would fill her with joy.
Because nothing balances the chemicals in my brain like yet another fucking chorus of "Our God Reigns".
This semester, my Bible study is focusing on the non-fuzzy images of God. We're looking at the Jesus who hurled racial slurs at a woman who asked for His help, the Christ who withered a fig tree because it wasn't bearing fruit, at the God who ordered the slaughter of babies, the God who sent lying angels to prophets so that people would die. We're looking at Hagar, who got pile after pile of rancid shit dumped on her, and was ignored by God, except for when He was telling her to go back and take more abuse.
Last week, i went to a writing retreat where Benji talked about how the Church doesn't have sad songs. The Bible has psalms of lament, where we talk about how life sucks and we don't know why God won't rescue us. But in modern Christian contexts, the best we get is "Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, 'It is well, it is well with my soul." We don't make room for doubt, for sorrow, for anger. We must be happy.
In our Bible study, Benji said that theology should be "a testimony for conversion". In other words, what we say about God should make people want to know Him for themselves. This does NOT mean that you should walk up to strangers in the parking lot of a rest stop in New Jersey, hand them a tract, and tell them that God wants to save them from their sins (this happened to me over Christmas vacation). What it means is, the things you believe about God, the things you know about God, the things you say about God, should be compelling and attractive.
That doesn't necessarily mean that you should tell people that everything with Jesus is sunshine and roses. Even Jesus didn't say that (the Son of Man has no place to lay His head, He came to turn families against each other, people are going to hate you and treat you terribly, etc.) If i asked someone about their religion and they said, "It makes everything happy forever!", i would run away.
Some day, someone you love will die. If it hasn't happened already, it will. My grandmother is dead. My great aunt is dead. One of my friends is dying. My parents will die. My cousins will die. My siblings will die. My spouse, my kids, my co-workers, my pastor, my professors, my favorite musicians, the students i teach. Everyone i know and love will die some day. I will die. And maybe i'll go before some of the people i know and love and won't have to be there when it happens, but that just means that they will have to mourn my death.
People die. It's a part of life. And it is good and right to mourn them. We may be able to draw some comfort by thoughts of them in a happy afterlife, or by knowing that their pain and sickness are ended, but the reality is that they are dead in a box in the ground, rotting away. They will never again laugh with you. They will never again cry with you. They will not see you grow old. You will not see them grow old. My friend who is dying is in his 20s. I will never dance at his wedding, never meet his children, never tease him for his grey hairs. And it is good and right to mourn this.
And there's a whole lot of other shit in life, too. People get sick and injured. Children get raped. People get fired. Hearts get broken. Spouses cheat on one another and lie about it. Houses burn down. Cancer exists. Homelessness exists. Malnutrition, starvation, poverty exist. Do you ever think about how fucked up it is that we have social workers? We have people whose job is to make sure you are taking care of your kids, and to remove them from your care if you are not. They make sure you are going to rehab. They make sure your kids are going to school. They make sure that there is food in the refrigerator and that you are not doing drugs or having sex in front of your toddler. Because there are SO MANY people who cannot take care of their own lives and the lives of their children that we have entire undergraduate, graduate, and postgraduate programs devoted to training other people to take care of them.
There is a whole lot of shit in life, and it is right and good to mourn it. It is right and good to be angry over it. It is right and good to respond with negative emotions to these things. There are only two ways to completely remove yourself from all negative emotional response: heavy doses of psychiatric medication and death. Meds can also dull or remove positive feelings, and death is, well, death. A religion that promises that everything will be sunny all the time always is either lying or deluded, and either way you shouldn't drink any kool-aid they offer you.
I'm still reading my Bible. I'm still praying. I'm still having spiritual conversations with people, still writing about my feelings, still processing. I'm still a Christian. I'm still a doubter. Recently, someone asked me the question i've been fearing: what's the point of religion? Bad things still happen to good people, and there are good people who are not Christians, and even some good people who don't believe in any God at all, so what are you getting out of it?
I told him i didn't know. I don't know why i have faith. I don't know what i'm getting out of this whole religion thing.
This is true and not true. I can't point you to the pile of gold i've amassed because of God's financial blessings on my life. I can't point you to the perfect job He provided for me. My brother may be alive, but he's lost a leg and a year of his life and lots of memories and joy and God may have brought him miraculously out of his injuries but God still allowed him to be injured in the first place. I can't give you a bulleted list of reasons to follow God. I can't show you tangible things that God has done in my life. I believe that i have experienced miracles, but they all come with caveats (my brother's miraculous recovery wouldn't have been necessary if God hadn't let him be blown up in the first place).
But if you're in religion for what you're getting out of it, you're missing the point. I can tell you things that i've "gotten out of" my relationship with my boyfriend, but i'm not with him because he buys me nice presents or takes me out to eat or listens to me complain. I'm not with him because of what i'm "getting out of" the relationship. If that was all i wanted, i'd be dating someone with more money and time to lavish on me.
I'm with my boyfriend because i love him, and he loves me. I'm with God because i love Him, and He loves me.
I'm still mad at Him for a lot of the stuff in the Old and New Testaments. I'm mad at Him because of my brother, and because of the shooting in Connecticut, and because of people who say that God hates fags, and because of poverty and cancer and AIDS, and because i don't have enough money to student teach and buy everything i want from Amazon, and because my parents are divorced and shouldn't have been married in the first place so maybe i shouldn't even be alive, and because Republicans keep trying to take rights away from women and non-whites, and because of earthquakes and tsunamis and war and oppression and starvation and mental illness.
But being in a relationship means experiencing a whole range of shifting emotions, sometimes even many emotions at once. And my God lets me work through that stuff, even when that means i yell at Him or don't represent Him well to others or regard my personal devotional time with Him as a chore.
So i guess what i'm "getting out of" this is a love greater and freer and fuller and more compelling and empowering and gracious and overwhelming and gentle and sweet than any love i have ever known. It's a love that enables me to love better. It's a love that makes me better. It's a love that withstands my anger and weariness and confusion. And i don't know how to say any of that in a way that makes other people want to know God too, but i guess that's something that He and i can work on.
Monday, December 17, 2012
saving me (love)
Love in all forms. Love from others. Love for others. Love of others for each other. Love for books. Love from my cat. Love for steak. Love from the earth. Promised love. Past love. The hope of future love. Making love. The love of others for one another. Ingrid Michaelson's songs about love. Love, love, love.
Monday, September 24, 2012
what's saving me (illustrations)
I've been in free-fall a little bit for the last few weeks. It's not a total plunge toward rock bottom, but i can feel it coming. Lately, the thing that's been saving me is my new desk. My wonderful boyfriend helped me haul it up to the second floor from the basement. The stairs were narrow and twisty, the ceiling was low, it was late at night, and we both ended up with scraped knuckles. And my shin was pretty badly skinned, too.
Since then, i've been settling into the corner of my room, arranging pencils and notebooks and drinking rum and coke with peaches. And then i spent a lot of time decoupaging.
I found an old dictionary and thesaurus set and did a little tearing and cutting and coloring. I left plenty of room for things i might want to decoupage in the future, but i'm pretty happy with it so far.
The old orange desk that i keep on the corner was the perfect canvas for a selection of illustrations i cut from the dictionary. I went letter by letter, finding illustrations i liked. Not all letters had illustrations, and not all of the illustrations were memorable. But here's what i ended up with:
Plenty of room for movie tickets, stickers, fabric scraps, and so on. But it's a great start -- both to my workspace and to saving myself again and again.
Since then, i've been settling into the corner of my room, arranging pencils and notebooks and drinking rum and coke with peaches. And then i spent a lot of time decoupaging.
I found an old dictionary and thesaurus set and did a little tearing and cutting and coloring. I left plenty of room for things i might want to decoupage in the future, but i'm pretty happy with it so far.
The old orange desk that i keep on the corner was the perfect canvas for a selection of illustrations i cut from the dictionary. I went letter by letter, finding illustrations i liked. Not all letters had illustrations, and not all of the illustrations were memorable. But here's what i ended up with:
Plenty of room for movie tickets, stickers, fabric scraps, and so on. But it's a great start -- both to my workspace and to saving myself again and again.
Friday, September 21, 2012
John 9-17
John 13:47
"And if anyone hears My words and does not believe, I do not judge him; for I did not come to judge the world but to save the world."
John 13:34-35
"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."
John 14:27
"Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."
John 15:12
"This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you."
You can't save the world if you're busy judging it. Leave the judgment to God; focus on saving people. Love people. Love everyone. Love first. Leave room for love. Live in peace with one another and with yourself. Love, love, love.
These are the words spoken by Jesus in the last days of his life. The last things that Jesus wanted to say to his followers were words of salvation, of love, of peace, and of love.
"And if anyone hears My words and does not believe, I do not judge him; for I did not come to judge the world but to save the world."
John 13:34-35
"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."
John 14:27
"Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."
John 15:12
"This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you."
You can't save the world if you're busy judging it. Leave the judgment to God; focus on saving people. Love people. Love everyone. Love first. Leave room for love. Live in peace with one another and with yourself. Love, love, love.
These are the words spoken by Jesus in the last days of his life. The last things that Jesus wanted to say to his followers were words of salvation, of love, of peace, and of love.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
independence day 2012
I hope you're all enjoying the holiday and not reading things on the internet, but just in case you are online, remember this: freedom only exists when everyone has it. Celebrate your freedoms today, but do so with the knowledge that you are more privileged than most. Even the fact that you have internet access makes you far better off than a large percentage of the earth's population. Practice your freedoms wisely and kindly, and fight for the freedoms of others, if for no other reason than to ensure the security of your own.
"First they came for the communists, and I didn't speak out, because I wasn't a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak out, because I wasn't a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak out, because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me."
"First they came for the communists, and I didn't speak out, because I wasn't a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak out, because I wasn't a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak out, because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me."
Monday, April 30, 2012
first
I've never had a relationship anniversary before. Neither has John. This relationship has already lasted longer than any previous relationship for either of us, so we've had a lot to celebrate along the way, but a year is still a big milestone.
I usually lose interest after a few months. I get weirded out by the closeness, or i get jealous, or he gets jealous, or things just sort of fall apart.
I don't know what a relationship is supposed to look like at this point. I don't know how we are supposed to behave together, how i am supposed to feel, what is supposed to come next. I don't know what to expect.
I never expected that i would be happier with him every day. I never expected that simply walking down the street and holding his hand would fill me with such joy that i would start to skip. (Not hyperbole, by the way. This has actually happened.) I never expected to miss him so intensely. I never expected that the best part of my day would be falling asleep at his side.
But i'm also filled with a sense of panic and impending doom. Because i don't know what a relationship is supposed to look like at this point. I am excited to be with him in this moment, but i'm also excited for the moments to come, and shouldn't we be in the next moment already? How am i supposed to behave? How am i supposed to feel? What is supposed to come next? Are we going too fast? Are we going too slow?
Fortunately, John is patient enough and loves me enough to handle all the crazy i throw at him. And here's the thing: he doesn't know what the relationship is supposed to look like at this point, either. The difference between us is that he sees this as a time of excitement and adventure, where every day is something new and unpredictable and we get to decide what comes next. I see this as a time with enormous potential for me to screw up in a big way.
I've said it before and i'll say it again: thank God for John. He is brave enough and patient enough and loves me enough to not run in the opposite direction when i start getting freaked out about this stuff. He gently and lovingly helps me talk through my fears and concerns and reassures me in his commitment and affection. After all, i may not know what our relationship is supposed to look like at this point, but neither does he. How will he know if i'm screwing something up?
It's not so much a question of doing things "right", but more a question of making him happy. And so far, he's happy just to be around me. All he wants from me is me. I worry that the day might come when i will not be enough and i will have nothing more to give. I worry that the day might come that i will be too much. But it's been a year and there has been a lot of crazy and he's not running yet. It may be that he actually knows what he's getting himself into and really does want me. That is humbling and exciting and terrifying and awe-inspiring and very, very beautiful. Either way, he is so happy in this moment that he is content just to stay here a while longer.
I'm learning to find that contentment. I still want to run ahead, but i make sure to loop back occasionally to walk at his side for a while, to stroll in silence holding his hand. And then i take off running again, because i have faith that he will still be there when i loop back the next time.
I love everything you are with everything i am, my dearest. Here's to year two.
I usually lose interest after a few months. I get weirded out by the closeness, or i get jealous, or he gets jealous, or things just sort of fall apart.
I don't know what a relationship is supposed to look like at this point. I don't know how we are supposed to behave together, how i am supposed to feel, what is supposed to come next. I don't know what to expect.
I never expected that i would be happier with him every day. I never expected that simply walking down the street and holding his hand would fill me with such joy that i would start to skip. (Not hyperbole, by the way. This has actually happened.) I never expected to miss him so intensely. I never expected that the best part of my day would be falling asleep at his side.
But i'm also filled with a sense of panic and impending doom. Because i don't know what a relationship is supposed to look like at this point. I am excited to be with him in this moment, but i'm also excited for the moments to come, and shouldn't we be in the next moment already? How am i supposed to behave? How am i supposed to feel? What is supposed to come next? Are we going too fast? Are we going too slow?
Fortunately, John is patient enough and loves me enough to handle all the crazy i throw at him. And here's the thing: he doesn't know what the relationship is supposed to look like at this point, either. The difference between us is that he sees this as a time of excitement and adventure, where every day is something new and unpredictable and we get to decide what comes next. I see this as a time with enormous potential for me to screw up in a big way.
I've said it before and i'll say it again: thank God for John. He is brave enough and patient enough and loves me enough to not run in the opposite direction when i start getting freaked out about this stuff. He gently and lovingly helps me talk through my fears and concerns and reassures me in his commitment and affection. After all, i may not know what our relationship is supposed to look like at this point, but neither does he. How will he know if i'm screwing something up?
It's not so much a question of doing things "right", but more a question of making him happy. And so far, he's happy just to be around me. All he wants from me is me. I worry that the day might come when i will not be enough and i will have nothing more to give. I worry that the day might come that i will be too much. But it's been a year and there has been a lot of crazy and he's not running yet. It may be that he actually knows what he's getting himself into and really does want me. That is humbling and exciting and terrifying and awe-inspiring and very, very beautiful. Either way, he is so happy in this moment that he is content just to stay here a while longer.
I'm learning to find that contentment. I still want to run ahead, but i make sure to loop back occasionally to walk at his side for a while, to stroll in silence holding his hand. And then i take off running again, because i have faith that he will still be there when i loop back the next time.
I love everything you are with everything i am, my dearest. Here's to year two.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Every Tradition Starts Somewhere
Seven years ago, i celebrated Easter at home with my family. We did the whole nine yards: Pancake Day (or Fat Tuesday), Lent, Good Friday services, Sunrise Services, Easter baskets, and egg hunts. That was my last Holy Week at home.
Six years ago, i was in Spain from Fat Tuesday (February 20th that year) until the middle of May. I spent all of Lent and Holy Week in Seville and Badajoz and Malaga (with a day trip to Portugal).
Five years ago, Agelseb's mother came up to Boston for Easter weekend, and we celebrated together.
Four years ago, i had no roommate and all of my friends had gone home for Easter break, so i went to CVS and bought crackers and grape juice and a candle. I lit the candle in my room (even though it was against the rules), and took communion and read scriptures alone as my own Good Friday service. I seem to remember also doing my own Sunrise service that year, but i'm not sure.
For the next two years, i did some variation of this service. Once i played worship music softly in the background, once it was silent. Once i fasted, once i did not. Last year i bought fancy bread and high quality grape juice and prayed quietly in my room.
This year, i am expanding this new tradition a little. On a whim, i invited John to participate. He suggested that i invite Benji and Mrs. Benji as well. And then i invited Pammer and Larissa (though none of them could make it). And i have spent much of my week researching Passover seder traditions and the Haggadah. I've been writing menus and reading scripture and thinking about seating.
As it turns out, the Haggadah is really freaking long. Like, fifteen pages, and most of that is the post-meal blessing. I hope no one will be offended by this, but since none of my guests are Jewish and most of the service is a reflection on Jewish history and culture, i cut it down to about three pages. I wanted to keep some sense of the history, but i also wanted to reflect my own culture and the culture and needs of those i had invited to break bread with me. The Haggadah says that anyone who does not mention the lamb, the matzo, and the bitter herbs has not done their job, so i have included those things. Wherever possible, i kept the original language, and only condensed it. I have written only about two or three lines in this service. The details are still being ironed out, but i'm kind of looking forward to this odd new tradition of mine.
First, a blessing for the wine:
Six years ago, i was in Spain from Fat Tuesday (February 20th that year) until the middle of May. I spent all of Lent and Holy Week in Seville and Badajoz and Malaga (with a day trip to Portugal).
Five years ago, Agelseb's mother came up to Boston for Easter weekend, and we celebrated together.
Four years ago, i had no roommate and all of my friends had gone home for Easter break, so i went to CVS and bought crackers and grape juice and a candle. I lit the candle in my room (even though it was against the rules), and took communion and read scriptures alone as my own Good Friday service. I seem to remember also doing my own Sunrise service that year, but i'm not sure.
For the next two years, i did some variation of this service. Once i played worship music softly in the background, once it was silent. Once i fasted, once i did not. Last year i bought fancy bread and high quality grape juice and prayed quietly in my room.
This year, i am expanding this new tradition a little. On a whim, i invited John to participate. He suggested that i invite Benji and Mrs. Benji as well. And then i invited Pammer and Larissa (though none of them could make it). And i have spent much of my week researching Passover seder traditions and the Haggadah. I've been writing menus and reading scripture and thinking about seating.
As it turns out, the Haggadah is really freaking long. Like, fifteen pages, and most of that is the post-meal blessing. I hope no one will be offended by this, but since none of my guests are Jewish and most of the service is a reflection on Jewish history and culture, i cut it down to about three pages. I wanted to keep some sense of the history, but i also wanted to reflect my own culture and the culture and needs of those i had invited to break bread with me. The Haggadah says that anyone who does not mention the lamb, the matzo, and the bitter herbs has not done their job, so i have included those things. Wherever possible, i kept the original language, and only condensed it. I have written only about two or three lines in this service. The details are still being ironed out, but i'm kind of looking forward to this odd new tradition of mine.
First, a blessing for the wine:Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.
drink wine
Then, a blessing on the greens and side dishes:
Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, who creates the fruit of the earth.
A blessing on the matzo:
This is the bread of affliction. Whoever is hungry or in need, let him come and eat.
A blessing on the lamb:
This is the Passover sacrifice for deliverance. Whoever is hungry or in need, let him come and eat.
A blessing on the bitter herbs:
These are the bitter herbs of suffering. Whoever is hungry or in need, let him come and eat.
A general blessing:
A general blessing:
The Holy One, blessed be He, redeemed not only our fathers from Egypt, but He redeemed also us with them.
Thus it is our duty to thank, to glorify, to exalt, to adore, and to honor the One who did all these miracles for our fathers and for us. He took us from sorrow to joy, from deep darkness to great light, and from bondage to redemption. Let us therefore recite before Him Hallelujah, Praise God!
Now eat and drink to your heart’s delight.
After the meal, all who ate recite the Grace:
After the meal, all who ate recite the Grace:
Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, who, in His goodness, feeds the whole world with grace, with kindness, and with mercy. You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing.
Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, the King who is good and does good to all, each and every day. He has done good for us, He does good for us, and He will do good for us. To You alone we give thanks.
Even if our mouths were filled with song as the sea, and our tongues with joyous singing like the multitudes of its waves, and our lips with praise like the expanse of the sky, and our eyes shining like the sun and the moon, and our hands spread out like the eagles of heaven, and our feet swift like deer we would still be unable to thank You Lord, our God and God of our fathers, and to bless Your Name, for even one of the thousands of millions, and myriads of myriads, of favors, miracles and wonders with You have done for us and for our fathers before us.
And then Scripture readings:
And then Scripture readings:
Exodus 12:1 Now the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt, saying, 2 “This month shall be your beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year to you. 3 Speak to all the congregation of Israel, saying: ‘On the tenth of this month every man shall take for himself a lamb, according to the house of his father, a lamb for a household. 8 Then they shall eat the flesh on that night; roasted in fire, with unleavened bread and with bitter herbs they shall eat it. 11 And thus you shall eat it: with a belt on your waist, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand. So you shall eat it in haste. It is the Lord’s Passover.
12 ‘For I will pass through the land of Egypt on that night, and will strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgment: I am the Lord. 13 Now the blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you are. And when I see the blood, I will pass over you; and the plague shall not be on you to destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.
14 ‘So this day shall be to you a memorial; and you shall keep it as a feast to the Lord throughout your generations. You shall keep it as a feast by an everlasting ordinance.’
Luke 22:19 And He (Jesus) took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is My body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.”
20 Likewise He also took the cup after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood, which is shed for you.”
Luke 23:44 Now it was about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. 45 Then the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was torn in two. 46 And when Jesus had cried out with a loud voice, He said, "Father, 'into Your hands I commit My spirit.'" Having said this, He breathed His last. So when the centurion saw what had happened, he glorified God, saying, "Certainly this was a righteous Man!"
48 And the whole crowd who came together to that sight, seeing what had been done, beat their breasts and returned. 49. But all His acquaintances, and the women who followed Him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.
Luke 23:44 Now it was about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. 45 Then the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was torn in two. 46 And when Jesus had cried out with a loud voice, He said, "Father, 'into Your hands I commit My spirit.'" Having said this, He breathed His last. So when the centurion saw what had happened, he glorified God, saying, "Certainly this was a righteous Man!"
48 And the whole crowd who came together to that sight, seeing what had been done, beat their breasts and returned. 49. But all His acquaintances, and the women who followed Him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
timshel
Today i visited my gas station attendant friend, Hamid. Ever since the first time i had to put gas in my car in Quincy, i have gone to Hamid, because he is awesome and because i believe in loyalty.
Hamid always asks me how i am doing. The last time i was there, he also asked about my life in general, what i was doing. I told him i was in school and working, and that i was very busy. Hamid's English is good, but not great, and the conversation was had as we leaned across my passenger window, so we didn't get into a lot of detail about goals and dreams and personal histories. But he knows that i am there for gas every other week, unless i've had to run a lot of errands and visit him a week early. And he told me that i would be a beautiful teacher of English.
Today, he asked again how i was doing.
"I'm good. Busy."
"With work, and school? You are full time?"
"Yes, full time work and school. I am very busy."
"Oh, it must be very hard for you. You are doing okay?"
"Yes, i am doing okay. It is good to be busy."
He smiles. "And you are alone? You have someone to help you, to cook for you?"
Are you hitting on me, Hamid? i wonder. But all i say is, "I cook for myself." I say it with a smile.
"Ah. And your family?"
"They are far away. They are in another state, about eight hours away."
"Ah. It must be very hard. Or easy? You are happy, or no?"
"I have friends here, so i am happy."
"It is good. Good to have friends."
"Yes."
We are both smiling, because that is more than words.
"You have a good week. I see you later?"
"Yes. You too!"
As i pull away and head for the grocery store, Mumford and Sons is the soundtrack to my inner monologue.
Cold is the water
It freezes your already cold mind
Already cold, cold mind
It is hard. I am very busy, and i am so tired, so tired. My family is far away, a mixed blessing. My friends are near, also a mixed blessing. Sometimes i get stuck in my own head. I've been feeling pretty stuck lately.
And you have your choices
And these are what make man great
His ladder to the stars
I am so lucky to be where i am. This is everything i wanted and more than i ever dreamed of, and it should be hard. If it were easy, it would hardly be worth having. The work is what will enable me to be what i should be, what i could be.
But you are not alone in this
You are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand
I am not alone. I have Hamid, for one. And Benji, Emily, Larissa, John, and so many others. Hand-holding is powerful, whether it is actual fingers clasping or a smile shared over a half-opened passenger side window.
You are not alone in this
You are not alone in this
Hamid always asks me how i am doing. The last time i was there, he also asked about my life in general, what i was doing. I told him i was in school and working, and that i was very busy. Hamid's English is good, but not great, and the conversation was had as we leaned across my passenger window, so we didn't get into a lot of detail about goals and dreams and personal histories. But he knows that i am there for gas every other week, unless i've had to run a lot of errands and visit him a week early. And he told me that i would be a beautiful teacher of English.
Today, he asked again how i was doing.
"I'm good. Busy."
"With work, and school? You are full time?"
"Yes, full time work and school. I am very busy."
"Oh, it must be very hard for you. You are doing okay?"
"Yes, i am doing okay. It is good to be busy."
He smiles. "And you are alone? You have someone to help you, to cook for you?"
Are you hitting on me, Hamid? i wonder. But all i say is, "I cook for myself." I say it with a smile.
"Ah. And your family?"
"They are far away. They are in another state, about eight hours away."
"Ah. It must be very hard. Or easy? You are happy, or no?"
"I have friends here, so i am happy."
"It is good. Good to have friends."
"Yes."
We are both smiling, because that is more than words.
"You have a good week. I see you later?"
"Yes. You too!"
As i pull away and head for the grocery store, Mumford and Sons is the soundtrack to my inner monologue.
Cold is the water
It freezes your already cold mind
Already cold, cold mind
It is hard. I am very busy, and i am so tired, so tired. My family is far away, a mixed blessing. My friends are near, also a mixed blessing. Sometimes i get stuck in my own head. I've been feeling pretty stuck lately.
And you have your choices
And these are what make man great
His ladder to the stars
I am so lucky to be where i am. This is everything i wanted and more than i ever dreamed of, and it should be hard. If it were easy, it would hardly be worth having. The work is what will enable me to be what i should be, what i could be.
But you are not alone in this
You are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand
I am not alone. I have Hamid, for one. And Benji, Emily, Larissa, John, and so many others. Hand-holding is powerful, whether it is actual fingers clasping or a smile shared over a half-opened passenger side window.
You are not alone in this
You are not alone in this
Monday, January 2, 2012
Small Miracles
This week, i bought my first car. It was my dad's old one. John and I drove it up from Maryland to his parents' house in Massachusetts. We refueled in New Jersey, and then forgot to stop again. I then drove from John's house to my apartment. The fuel light came on a few miles from home. But since it was nearly midnight, i just went to bed.
The next day, i wanted to go get gas and groceries. That was unintentionally alliterative. Anyway, my car was parked on a hill and wouldn't start.
I called my dad. While he was trying to advise me, one of my neighbors approached my car. I had no idea who he was. He offered me help. When he couldn't start the car either, he and his wife gave me a ride to the gas station.
Jack and Lena offered me advice about living and driving in Quincy as we drove back and forth. After buying the gas, Jack put it in the car and tried to start it. The one gallon wasn't enough, so he took me back for another one.
This is the really awesome part. Jack is Arabic. All three of the gas stations near my apartment are owned by Arabs. The owner was willing to put gas in an unapproved container, something that carries a hefty fine if you are caught. But the guy did it without blinking an eye, because Jack asked him to.
When the car was finally running again, i went back to the has station and filled my tank. The total came to $27.49. I gave the guy thirty. He tried to give me change. I had to convince him to keep the tip. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was all the cash I had.
Sometimes people surprise you. Anyway, i have learned my lesson about refueling before bed, parking on hills, and letting people help me. My new year's resolution? Don't run out of gas again. And go the extra mile to help those in need. You know, pay it forward.
Happy 2012, everyone.
The next day, i wanted to go get gas and groceries. That was unintentionally alliterative. Anyway, my car was parked on a hill and wouldn't start.
I called my dad. While he was trying to advise me, one of my neighbors approached my car. I had no idea who he was. He offered me help. When he couldn't start the car either, he and his wife gave me a ride to the gas station.
Jack and Lena offered me advice about living and driving in Quincy as we drove back and forth. After buying the gas, Jack put it in the car and tried to start it. The one gallon wasn't enough, so he took me back for another one.
This is the really awesome part. Jack is Arabic. All three of the gas stations near my apartment are owned by Arabs. The owner was willing to put gas in an unapproved container, something that carries a hefty fine if you are caught. But the guy did it without blinking an eye, because Jack asked him to.
When the car was finally running again, i went back to the has station and filled my tank. The total came to $27.49. I gave the guy thirty. He tried to give me change. I had to convince him to keep the tip. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was all the cash I had.
Sometimes people surprise you. Anyway, i have learned my lesson about refueling before bed, parking on hills, and letting people help me. My new year's resolution? Don't run out of gas again. And go the extra mile to help those in need. You know, pay it forward.
Happy 2012, everyone.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
'Tis The Season
My dad once said something interesting about religious holidays. He said that Christians have our celebrations backwards. He wasn't talking about the rampant materialism of Christmas, or the flavorless pastel sweetness of Easter (though he is plenty bothered by both of those). He was talking about the actual religious services that go with these.
Have you ever been to a Christmas Eve or Christmas Day church service? We sing joyous hymns, everyone wears bright colors, the church is sparkling and bristling with twinkle lights, holly wreaths, and glittering Christmas trees.
Have you ever been to a Black Friday or Easter church service? The Black Friday service is more depressing than an actual funeral, often lit only by candlelight in a sanctuary draped with black cloth. Even the Easter services, celebratory as they are, are decorated with lilies, flowers that are traditionally used in funeral or memorial services. Yes, we use the flowers of death to celebrate the gift of life.
My dad said that Christmas should be the sad, somber day. Christmas is the day that Christ gave up His divinity* and became Man. Christmas is the day that His days became numbered. Christmas is the day that He began His walk to the cross, the day that our sin was so great that God Himself was forced to leave His kingdom and enter the Hell we had created just so that He could save us from ourselves.
Easter, on the other hand, is the day that all of that ended. Easter is the day that Christ was able to shed His physical form and ascend once more to His rightful place at the Father's side. Even Good Friday should be a day of rejoicing, for it is the day that "it was finished".
But there's just something about Christmas. I think Vienna Teng expressed it best in the first line of her "Atheist Christmas Carol": It's the season of grace coming out of the void. Even atheists get it: there's just something about Christmas.
And i know that everyone always says that we should keep the Christmas spirit going all year long. I agree. I hate that we go into this goodwill frenzy from November 25th through December 26th, and the rest of the year we look out for number one. But somehow, other priorities always seem to assert themselves, and we think that we can make up for it during the Christmas season. So go ahead and get all frenzied and joyful and spend way too much money on other people. Just for once. Because there's something about Christmas.
So this year, i hope no one is reading this. This year, i hope you're all with loved ones, celebrating traditions and peace and love. This year, i hope everyone sacrificed a little to give someone something that they really needed. Or even just something they really wanted. Or even just a necktie. This year, i hope that everyone knows that someone loves them. This year, i hope we celebrate with enough tinsel and glitter to keep Ke$ha supplied for life.
Because there's just something about Christmas.
*Yes, Christ was fully God even while He was on Earth. But He was also fully man. We can have a debate about this if you want, but it ends up being like the old "Can God make a rock big enough that even He can't lift it" question. The point is, Christ made sacrifices to walk among us.
Have you ever been to a Christmas Eve or Christmas Day church service? We sing joyous hymns, everyone wears bright colors, the church is sparkling and bristling with twinkle lights, holly wreaths, and glittering Christmas trees.
Have you ever been to a Black Friday or Easter church service? The Black Friday service is more depressing than an actual funeral, often lit only by candlelight in a sanctuary draped with black cloth. Even the Easter services, celebratory as they are, are decorated with lilies, flowers that are traditionally used in funeral or memorial services. Yes, we use the flowers of death to celebrate the gift of life.
My dad said that Christmas should be the sad, somber day. Christmas is the day that Christ gave up His divinity* and became Man. Christmas is the day that His days became numbered. Christmas is the day that He began His walk to the cross, the day that our sin was so great that God Himself was forced to leave His kingdom and enter the Hell we had created just so that He could save us from ourselves.
Easter, on the other hand, is the day that all of that ended. Easter is the day that Christ was able to shed His physical form and ascend once more to His rightful place at the Father's side. Even Good Friday should be a day of rejoicing, for it is the day that "it was finished".
But there's just something about Christmas. I think Vienna Teng expressed it best in the first line of her "Atheist Christmas Carol": It's the season of grace coming out of the void. Even atheists get it: there's just something about Christmas.
And i know that everyone always says that we should keep the Christmas spirit going all year long. I agree. I hate that we go into this goodwill frenzy from November 25th through December 26th, and the rest of the year we look out for number one. But somehow, other priorities always seem to assert themselves, and we think that we can make up for it during the Christmas season. So go ahead and get all frenzied and joyful and spend way too much money on other people. Just for once. Because there's something about Christmas.
So this year, i hope no one is reading this. This year, i hope you're all with loved ones, celebrating traditions and peace and love. This year, i hope everyone sacrificed a little to give someone something that they really needed. Or even just something they really wanted. Or even just a necktie. This year, i hope that everyone knows that someone loves them. This year, i hope we celebrate with enough tinsel and glitter to keep Ke$ha supplied for life.
Because there's just something about Christmas.
*Yes, Christ was fully God even while He was on Earth. But He was also fully man. We can have a debate about this if you want, but it ends up being like the old "Can God make a rock big enough that even He can't lift it" question. The point is, Christ made sacrifices to walk among us.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Aunt Sis
When i was nine, my great-Aunt Sis moved into our house. She is mentally disabled. I can't be any more clear than that; she was diagnosed as "mentally retarded" in the early 1940s, and has not ever been evaluated since. I have my own theories, but that's a post for another day. Or maybe a doctoral dissertation. Something.
Anyway, she is an amazing person in so many ways, and she has been a blessing in my life. Although at times she is frustrating, and although there are moments when her disability makes her nearly impossible to be around, i love her dearly.
Below is a song that my dad wrote about her (to the tune of). I will provide annotations after each verse.
I have too many shoes to count,
My hair is flaming red.
There's money in my bank account,
No matter what I said.
My skin is cold,
And I'm so old,
You'll wonder if I'm dead;
But don't call me "Sis"!
Everything I own is dusty roses.
On Thursdays, I'm a nurse
And when I flip my lip,
The green grass grows!
My aunt did this to me!
I want to use the same bag for
My second cup of tea.
My sugar's made of chemicals,
My food is all fat-free,
But don't call me "Sis"!
Gamma gamma, mannerosis,
Everything I own is dusty roses.
On Thursdays, I'm a nurse
And when I flip my lip,
The green grass grows!
Anyway, she is an amazing person in so many ways, and she has been a blessing in my life. Although at times she is frustrating, and although there are moments when her disability makes her nearly impossible to be around, i love her dearly.
Below is a song that my dad wrote about her (to the tune of). I will provide annotations after each verse.
I have too many shoes to count,
My hair is flaming red.
There's money in my bank account,
No matter what I said.
My skin is cold,
And I'm so old,
You'll wonder if I'm dead;
But don't call me "Sis"!
She has hundreds of pairs of shoes. No one knows where they all come from.
One of my uncles used to say that she had red hair. It's actually silver-white, but the joke stuck.
She has a small fortune, but can't grasp the concept of a bank account. Since she rarely has more than a few bucks on her in cash, she always says that she is poor.
Her hands are always ice cold.She is pretty elderly, and we often tease her about her age.
She usually insists on a title, like "Aunt" or "Mrs."Gamma gamma, mannerosis,
Everything I own is dusty roses.
On Thursdays, I'm a nurse
And when I flip my lip,
The green grass grows!
"Gamma" and "mannerosis" are both nonsense words that she sometimes says.
Dusty rose was her favorite color when she first moved in, and many of her apartment furnishings were in that shade.
She likes to pretend that she is a nurse.
"Flip my lip off" and "green grass grow" are two of her nonsense phrases.My uncle smells like boiled eggs,
My aunt did this to me!
I want to use the same bag for
My second cup of tea.
My sugar's made of chemicals,
My food is all fat-free,
But don't call me "Sis"!
She has a nephew (who she calls her uncle) who she always insists smells like boiled eggs.
"Look what my aunt did to me!" is what she says when she has done something wrong and wants to avert blame to a different (imaginary) person.
"Same bag" is another phrase. This one has a backstory, but it's too long for this post.
She only uses artificial sweeteners and insists on fat-free or reduced-fat foods.
Gamma gamma, mannerosis,
Everything I own is dusty roses.
On Thursdays, I'm a nurse
And when I flip my lip,
The green grass grows!
Bagels, cuppachina, yogit,
Coffee cake, and tea:
These are the only kinds of food
I need inside of me.
Whenever I get near a store,
I go upon a spree.
But don't call me "Sis".
She loves bagels, cappuccino, and yogurt. Sometimes she can't pronounce words correctly.
She also loves coffee cake and hot or iced tea.
And shopping. She LOVES shopping.
Gamma gamma, mannerosis,
Everything I own is dusty roses.
On Thursdays, I'm a nurse
And when I flip my lip,
The green grass grows!
Everything I own is dusty roses.
On Thursdays, I'm a nurse
And when I flip my lip,
The green grass grows!
Saturday, October 29, 2011
six months
Today marks six months that i have been dating my boyfriend. No, it is not our "six month anniversary". Anniversary means the annual recurrence of a significant event. You can't have an anniversary until at least a year has gone by. And no, it is not our "monthiversary", because that is a stupid non-word, no matter what Urban Dictionary tells you.
But six months isn't nothing. That's half a year. That's a whole summer and part of the fall. That's half of my first semester in grad school and half of his first semester as a teacher. That's him directing three shows and me taking on a real job. That's me meeting his family and both of us coming up with excuses to avoid my family. (Kidding. Sort of.) That's me teaching him to knit, him giving me something to write about, me introducing him to the deliciousness of dried apricots, him buying me absurd amounts of flowers. That's both of us moving into our own apartments and becoming real, (mostly) self-sufficient adults.
There's this kid who works in my office and has a crush on me. He is also in the fall musical, for which John is the musical director, so he knows us both. This kid (we'll call him Tad) will often chat/flirt with me while he does some tedious task like stuffing envelopes. Tad often asks questions about my relationship. Recently, he asked me if John makes me a better person. I said that he did. Tad asked how.
When i was younger, i used to sing all the time. In the shower, while reading, while driving, while cooking, while doing laundry, while doing homework. I'd walk around the house singing, or wander in the backyard singing. I sang constantly. But when i got older and left the house, i discovered that this was a weird thing to do. And then i went to college, and between the re-affirmation of the weirdness of that habit and the personal devastation of my parents' divorce, i lost the desire to sing.
Three and a half years went by. I sang when required, in chapel worship services, and occasionally i'd absentmindedly chime in to whatever was playing on my iPod. But by and large, the music was gone from my heart. I was kindly coerced into joining the worship team on my church (church people are really good at friendly coercion), but i sang out of obligation and guilt, not joy.
Then John came along and it was like the sun came out from behind a cloud.
I started singing again because the joy had been returned to my life. But when John told me again and again how much he loved to hear me sing, i began to sing for him.
I also rediscovered my silliness. From about the age of ten onward, i took myself very seriously. They say that those who will be young when they are old must be old when they are young, and when i was a child, i was often called an "old soul". Plus, you know how every group of friends always has an anchor, one rational person to keep things stable? That was me in high school. Being the oldest child and the most mature of my friends combined to make me believe that my stability was one of the best things i had to offer. When i started dating, boys would generally tell me (sometimes sincerely) that my steadiness and maturity were some of the things that had attracted them to me. (They probably didn't even notice that i had huge boobs. Teenaged boys are usually far more interested in serious, sincere girls than their shallow, goofy friends. The fact that i was a C cup when all of my friends were nearly As was just a coincidence.) And then there was the divorce, and i had to be a parent for my siblings, and then i was in college and had to achieve things there, and then i moved into my new apartment and had to be the "dad" all the time.
Except for the occasional sugar-high, therefore, i was serious pretty much all the time. And then i started dating John, and he is absolutely ridiculous. I could create a whole separate blog just to tell stories about John. Let's just say that, while it has been well-established that i can't be left unsupervised or taken out into public, John is no better. We sort of take turns being the other person's caretaker.
But that's the thing: he showed me that silliness does not necessarily equal immaturity or irresponsibility. You can be a fully-functional adult and still be carefree and goofy. I still pay my bills on time. I still go to work every day and am productive. I still complete my homework assignments, wash my dishes, and take care of my cat. I just do it while stubbornly taking a detour to walk in the dirt, or loudly singing nonsense ad-libbed songs, or wrestling John back into bed so i can have a few more minutes in his arms before he has to leave.
In so many ways, John has brought joy into my life. He has helped me rediscover parts of myself that i thought i'd put away for good. In the last six months, i have been happier, healthier, and more fulfilled than i can remember being at any point in the last eleven years. And if we break up tomorrow, i will still be a better person for having known him.
In only six months, he's made me a better person, and he's done so in a way that ensures that my self-improvement and growing happiness will continue long after he is gone (if we break up, which i'm certainly not anticipating at this point). And if, somewhere far down the road, we get married, i know that my life will continue to improve because of his presence in it. He hasn't changed me. He has made me more "me", a better and truer and more grounded version of myself.
Being with him is easy. And not easy in the sense that there's no work involved. It's easy the way that writing poetry is easy: even when i'm sweating blood because i've spent the last three days trying to fix the meter in one line, it never crosses my mind that this is difficult or boring. And even if i wanted to, i couldn't stop writing poetry. It's just something that i do, something that i can't imagine not having in my life. It's worth the effort, and even the toughest parts are euphorically enjoyable.
Here's to the next six months. And the six after that, and the six after that, and the six after that . . .
 |
| "Overzealous". Even Urban Dictionary thinks you're dumb. |
But six months isn't nothing. That's half a year. That's a whole summer and part of the fall. That's half of my first semester in grad school and half of his first semester as a teacher. That's him directing three shows and me taking on a real job. That's me meeting his family and both of us coming up with excuses to avoid my family. (Kidding. Sort of.) That's me teaching him to knit, him giving me something to write about, me introducing him to the deliciousness of dried apricots, him buying me absurd amounts of flowers. That's both of us moving into our own apartments and becoming real, (mostly) self-sufficient adults.
There's this kid who works in my office and has a crush on me. He is also in the fall musical, for which John is the musical director, so he knows us both. This kid (we'll call him Tad) will often chat/flirt with me while he does some tedious task like stuffing envelopes. Tad often asks questions about my relationship. Recently, he asked me if John makes me a better person. I said that he did. Tad asked how.
When i was younger, i used to sing all the time. In the shower, while reading, while driving, while cooking, while doing laundry, while doing homework. I'd walk around the house singing, or wander in the backyard singing. I sang constantly. But when i got older and left the house, i discovered that this was a weird thing to do. And then i went to college, and between the re-affirmation of the weirdness of that habit and the personal devastation of my parents' divorce, i lost the desire to sing.
Three and a half years went by. I sang when required, in chapel worship services, and occasionally i'd absentmindedly chime in to whatever was playing on my iPod. But by and large, the music was gone from my heart. I was kindly coerced into joining the worship team on my church (church people are really good at friendly coercion), but i sang out of obligation and guilt, not joy.
Then John came along and it was like the sun came out from behind a cloud.
I started singing again because the joy had been returned to my life. But when John told me again and again how much he loved to hear me sing, i began to sing for him.
I also rediscovered my silliness. From about the age of ten onward, i took myself very seriously. They say that those who will be young when they are old must be old when they are young, and when i was a child, i was often called an "old soul". Plus, you know how every group of friends always has an anchor, one rational person to keep things stable? That was me in high school. Being the oldest child and the most mature of my friends combined to make me believe that my stability was one of the best things i had to offer. When i started dating, boys would generally tell me (sometimes sincerely) that my steadiness and maturity were some of the things that had attracted them to me. (They probably didn't even notice that i had huge boobs. Teenaged boys are usually far more interested in serious, sincere girls than their shallow, goofy friends. The fact that i was a C cup when all of my friends were nearly As was just a coincidence.) And then there was the divorce, and i had to be a parent for my siblings, and then i was in college and had to achieve things there, and then i moved into my new apartment and had to be the "dad" all the time.
Except for the occasional sugar-high, therefore, i was serious pretty much all the time. And then i started dating John, and he is absolutely ridiculous. I could create a whole separate blog just to tell stories about John. Let's just say that, while it has been well-established that i can't be left unsupervised or taken out into public, John is no better. We sort of take turns being the other person's caretaker.
But that's the thing: he showed me that silliness does not necessarily equal immaturity or irresponsibility. You can be a fully-functional adult and still be carefree and goofy. I still pay my bills on time. I still go to work every day and am productive. I still complete my homework assignments, wash my dishes, and take care of my cat. I just do it while stubbornly taking a detour to walk in the dirt, or loudly singing nonsense ad-libbed songs, or wrestling John back into bed so i can have a few more minutes in his arms before he has to leave.
In so many ways, John has brought joy into my life. He has helped me rediscover parts of myself that i thought i'd put away for good. In the last six months, i have been happier, healthier, and more fulfilled than i can remember being at any point in the last eleven years. And if we break up tomorrow, i will still be a better person for having known him.
In only six months, he's made me a better person, and he's done so in a way that ensures that my self-improvement and growing happiness will continue long after he is gone (if we break up, which i'm certainly not anticipating at this point). And if, somewhere far down the road, we get married, i know that my life will continue to improve because of his presence in it. He hasn't changed me. He has made me more "me", a better and truer and more grounded version of myself.
Being with him is easy. And not easy in the sense that there's no work involved. It's easy the way that writing poetry is easy: even when i'm sweating blood because i've spent the last three days trying to fix the meter in one line, it never crosses my mind that this is difficult or boring. And even if i wanted to, i couldn't stop writing poetry. It's just something that i do, something that i can't imagine not having in my life. It's worth the effort, and even the toughest parts are euphorically enjoyable.
Here's to the next six months. And the six after that, and the six after that, and the six after that . . .
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Adam
Miracles do happen. I believe in that with my whole heart.
But when all you have left to hope for is a miracle, it seems a slim chance.
Adam is still in surgery. They are trying to repair damage to the nerves in the anterior spine. Some nerves are severed and some are only bruised. The doctors do not expect that he will ever regain full use of his legs, though minimal function is possible.
I can't imagine a world where my brother is not able to walk. I can't imagine a world where he is not able to run. Ever since i can remember, he has been running and climbing and exploring and working and fighting. I think he'd rather be dead than be limited.
My friend Colleen told me about a friend of hers who was a Marine and was badly injured two or three years ago. He had a chunk of his head missing and doctors said he'd never walk or talk again. Apart from slurred speech and a scar, you'd never know now that anything happened.
This is the very definition of a mixed blessing: Adam is alive and home and will never be able to go back into active duty. He is in good health overall and will recover and be here and safe. But he won't be the same person anymore, and that will be hard for him to handle. And it will be hard for us to watch him struggle to accept his new reality.
The prayers and support coming in from all sides have been overwhelming, in the best way possible. I believe in miracles, but that's all i have left.
When i visited Adam before his deployment, we went to lunch and he paused before we ate to bless his food. A few months prior to that, he had told me that he was an agnostic. I was struck by the occurrence, and later wrote a poem about my brother who still prayed over his food, even though he was no longer sure if he was praying to anyone or anything at all.
I'm not Catholic, but i've been lighting candles for Adam every day since i got the news. There's something about this kind of event that blurs the lines between faith and religion. Suddenly, what matters is that you have something to hold on to. They say there are no atheists in foxholes. I just want to see my hope alight.
But when all you have left to hope for is a miracle, it seems a slim chance.
Adam is still in surgery. They are trying to repair damage to the nerves in the anterior spine. Some nerves are severed and some are only bruised. The doctors do not expect that he will ever regain full use of his legs, though minimal function is possible.
I can't imagine a world where my brother is not able to walk. I can't imagine a world where he is not able to run. Ever since i can remember, he has been running and climbing and exploring and working and fighting. I think he'd rather be dead than be limited.
My friend Colleen told me about a friend of hers who was a Marine and was badly injured two or three years ago. He had a chunk of his head missing and doctors said he'd never walk or talk again. Apart from slurred speech and a scar, you'd never know now that anything happened.
This is the very definition of a mixed blessing: Adam is alive and home and will never be able to go back into active duty. He is in good health overall and will recover and be here and safe. But he won't be the same person anymore, and that will be hard for him to handle. And it will be hard for us to watch him struggle to accept his new reality.
The prayers and support coming in from all sides have been overwhelming, in the best way possible. I believe in miracles, but that's all i have left.
When i visited Adam before his deployment, we went to lunch and he paused before we ate to bless his food. A few months prior to that, he had told me that he was an agnostic. I was struck by the occurrence, and later wrote a poem about my brother who still prayed over his food, even though he was no longer sure if he was praying to anyone or anything at all.
I'm not Catholic, but i've been lighting candles for Adam every day since i got the news. There's something about this kind of event that blurs the lines between faith and religion. Suddenly, what matters is that you have something to hold on to. They say there are no atheists in foxholes. I just want to see my hope alight.
 |
| We were both trying to hide from the camera. We were not entirely successful. |
Friday, August 5, 2011
God is Love
We say this so often that it has lost all meaning. Think about it: what do you mean when you say that God is love? What do you think of when someone says it to you?
God is love?
If taken to its fullest extent, it must be reversed: love is God. Every time we show love to one another, it is God.
If taken to its fullest extent, it must be reversed: love is God. Every time we show love to one another, it is God.
Continue in this train of thought for a time: God is nothing more or less than love, nothing more or less than emotion, nothing more or less than charity, friendship, and trust. God is not a being, but a feeling.
For what elevates us like love? Everyone from two to a hundred suffers agonies and celebrates triumphs because of it. There is no passion quite like it, no emotion that can come near it in terms of its power to shape and hold us. Is it so different from our ideas of God: an all-powerful being or force, which has some measure of control over all of us, which we can never completely understand, and which all of us need in order to be fulfilled? Is it so outrageous to suggest that Love might, after all, be this thing that we have worshipped?
Don’t walk away. I’m not finished yet.
The truth is, love is God. God is the God of emotion, the God of charity, friendship, and trust, the God of interactions, of relationships, of intimacy. Any time that we open ourselves to another person, God is indeed in that openness.
All love is love, as i said before. And while it may be true that only God is capable of a love so deep, so pure, and so strong as to be called “agape”, it is also true that all love springs from this. The most shallow, tainted, and weak attachments have their roots in agape, for God is love is love is God. It’s all the same.
Do not misunderstand me. I am not claiming that God is only emotion; rather i am claiming that this particular emotion is more than just a feeling that we sometimes experience. And do not make the mistake of believing that this idea in some way degrades God. It is not humbling to say that God is love; rather, it is elevating to say that love is God. We are all capable of some form of love. We are therefore all able to see God, and to be God to others.
Yes, love is God. No love is possible apart from God. Perhaps this is the Divine Spark that is in each of us, this ability to love. Perhaps this is what makes us the children of God.
For love is a powerful force, one more healing than compassion and more destructive than hate. Love creates both connections and divisions. Love made whole makes both the lover and the loved whole with it; love broken breaks us.
Love is something beyond our comprehension, something that makes life worth living. How can we doubt that it is closely related to the nature of God? How can we doubt that God is love; and, once we have accepted that, how can we doubt that love is God?
1 John 4:7-19
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed His love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and His love is made complete in us.
We know that we live in Him and He in us, because He has given us of His Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent His Son to be the Savior of the world. If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and he in God. And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like Him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
We love because He first loved us.
For what elevates us like love? Everyone from two to a hundred suffers agonies and celebrates triumphs because of it. There is no passion quite like it, no emotion that can come near it in terms of its power to shape and hold us. Is it so different from our ideas of God: an all-powerful being or force, which has some measure of control over all of us, which we can never completely understand, and which all of us need in order to be fulfilled? Is it so outrageous to suggest that Love might, after all, be this thing that we have worshipped?
Don’t walk away. I’m not finished yet.
The truth is, love is God. God is the God of emotion, the God of charity, friendship, and trust, the God of interactions, of relationships, of intimacy. Any time that we open ourselves to another person, God is indeed in that openness.
All love is love, as i said before. And while it may be true that only God is capable of a love so deep, so pure, and so strong as to be called “agape”, it is also true that all love springs from this. The most shallow, tainted, and weak attachments have their roots in agape, for God is love is love is God. It’s all the same.
Do not misunderstand me. I am not claiming that God is only emotion; rather i am claiming that this particular emotion is more than just a feeling that we sometimes experience. And do not make the mistake of believing that this idea in some way degrades God. It is not humbling to say that God is love; rather, it is elevating to say that love is God. We are all capable of some form of love. We are therefore all able to see God, and to be God to others.
Yes, love is God. No love is possible apart from God. Perhaps this is the Divine Spark that is in each of us, this ability to love. Perhaps this is what makes us the children of God.
For love is a powerful force, one more healing than compassion and more destructive than hate. Love creates both connections and divisions. Love made whole makes both the lover and the loved whole with it; love broken breaks us.
Love is something beyond our comprehension, something that makes life worth living. How can we doubt that it is closely related to the nature of God? How can we doubt that God is love; and, once we have accepted that, how can we doubt that love is God?
1 John 4:7-19
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed His love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and His love is made complete in us.
We know that we live in Him and He in us, because He has given us of His Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent His Son to be the Savior of the world. If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and he in God. And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like Him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
We love because He first loved us.
(bolding mine)
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
all for love
I'm an odd mix of cynicism and romance, as you've probably gathered from the posts so far. But this post will be a departure from the norm. In this case, romance totally trumps cynicism.
These are wonderful people and they are definitely worth a dollar.
http://www.marrymeemily.blogspot.com/
Emily is one of my dearest friends. Even if you don't necessarily support either of them, you should still give money so i can wear a pretty dress and give an embarassing toast at their wedding. I promise i'll post a funny and touching (and probably slightly cynical) story about it!
These are wonderful people and they are definitely worth a dollar.
http://www.marrymeemily.blogspot.com/
Emily is one of my dearest friends. Even if you don't necessarily support either of them, you should still give money so i can wear a pretty dress and give an embarassing toast at their wedding. I promise i'll post a funny and touching (and probably slightly cynical) story about it!
Monday, June 27, 2011
I could get used to this . . .
I've been to a few Christian concert events, like Soulfest, and i went to an Amy Grant
concert when i was in middle school. But i've never been to a real concert, one where my friends and i said, "Hey, this band we like is playing in our town. Let's buy tickets and go!"
Until last night.
A group of my friends decided to go to the Owl City concert, opened by Unwed Sailor and Mat Kerney. It was at the House of Blues in Boston.
We wanted to make sure that we'd get a good spot, somewhere near the stage, so we showed up three hours early, prepared to sit on the sidewalk in the heat and humidity until the doors opened. We were a big group of friends, we all had phones and digital entertainment devices, some of us even had food and drinks. So we figured we'd be fine. Sure, it wouldn't be as nice as sitting on squishy, overstuffed couches, in air conditioning, with waitresses bringing us cool drinks. But we didn't mind and had decided it was worthwhile if we got a good spot for the concert. We had just settled in when this big guy in a suit came out of the building and offered us free passes to the VIP lounge. Believe me when i tell you that it is even cooler looking when you're there than it is in the pictures.
We sat on squishy, overstuffed couches, in air conditioning, with waitresses bringing us cool drinks. (Of course, we had to pay for the food and drinks, but for a VIP lounge they were pretty reasonably priced). There were bathrooms, there was free WiFi, and we still got to be some of the first people in.
It's surprising how quickly you can become accustomed to luxury. I'm now wondering why people don't offer me free exclusive passes to fancy things and places more often. I'm wondering how i can make this a part of my regular life. "What? Waiting in line at Dunkin Donuts? Isn't there a secret back room where i can sit until my order is ready to be brought to me on a tray?"
I can tell you this much: i'm going to be three hours early to everything for the rest of my life from now on.
concert when i was in middle school. But i've never been to a real concert, one where my friends and i said, "Hey, this band we like is playing in our town. Let's buy tickets and go!"Until last night.
A group of my friends decided to go to the Owl City concert, opened by Unwed Sailor and Mat Kerney. It was at the House of Blues in Boston.
We wanted to make sure that we'd get a good spot, somewhere near the stage, so we showed up three hours early, prepared to sit on the sidewalk in the heat and humidity until the doors opened. We were a big group of friends, we all had phones and digital entertainment devices, some of us even had food and drinks. So we figured we'd be fine. Sure, it wouldn't be as nice as sitting on squishy, overstuffed couches, in air conditioning, with waitresses bringing us cool drinks. But we didn't mind and had decided it was worthwhile if we got a good spot for the concert. We had just settled in when this big guy in a suit came out of the building and offered us free passes to the VIP lounge. Believe me when i tell you that it is even cooler looking when you're there than it is in the pictures.
We sat on squishy, overstuffed couches, in air conditioning, with waitresses bringing us cool drinks. (Of course, we had to pay for the food and drinks, but for a VIP lounge they were pretty reasonably priced). There were bathrooms, there was free WiFi, and we still got to be some of the first people in.
It's surprising how quickly you can become accustomed to luxury. I'm now wondering why people don't offer me free exclusive passes to fancy things and places more often. I'm wondering how i can make this a part of my regular life. "What? Waiting in line at Dunkin Donuts? Isn't there a secret back room where i can sit until my order is ready to be brought to me on a tray?"
I can tell you this much: i'm going to be three hours early to everything for the rest of my life from now on.
Friday, June 3, 2011
graduated?
It's been almost a month since i "walked the plank" (to borrow my grandmother's phrase), and it still hasn't quite hit me that i'm a college graduate.
Occasionally, i'll be struck with a small wave of realization, like when i realize that i will never again have the opportunity to study poetry with Kathleen McCann, or pretend to pay attention in class while really editing a poem and texting Emily, who is sitting next to me, also pretending to pay attention while texting me and reading Failbook. (By the way, for all those out there who are bothered by the use of cell phones in class, you should know that Emily passed her English senior comps with distinction and graduated cum laude, and that i passed my psych comps with distinction, my English comps with a high pass, and graduated magna cum laude.)
But mostly, it feels like nothing has changed. This is due in large part to the fact that very little has actually, concretely changed. For the last two summers in a row, i have worked at my school's admissions office. I am still working there now. The only difference is that now, i commute from my apartment instead of living on campus. Plus i have a slightly flashier title. In the fall, i will be taking classes at the same school where i got my undergraduate degrees. Granted, they will be graduate classes and will meet in the evenings, but i will be in the same buildings where i have always had classes, with some of the same professors and probably some of the same students. And there is an excellent chance that i will still be working in the admissions office.
The thing is, i really don't mind being stuck in the college mindset. Everyone is right when they tell you that your college years will be the best of your life. There is something about taking four years to do nothing but learn that is a totally unique and incredible experience.
After college, you're supposed to be pretty much done (barring any post-graduate degrees). College is a time of experimentation, but once you've switched that tassel, experimentation is over. You know who you are and what you want. You've got you all figured out.
During college, you are encouraged to make mistakes. That's how you learn. If you don't know how to do something, you can try anyway, and learn from trial and error. If you don't know the answer, you can find it. It's okay to ask; you're there to learn. You can randomly switch directions without anyone making any judgements. You can change your major, change your haircut, change your sexual orientation, go vegan, start a new sport, join a club, run for student council, break up with someone, whatever. How are you going to find out what you like unless you try everything?
After college, you are encouraged to use the lessons you have learned to do things right. You've already learned. If you don't know how to do something, why not? Did you skip class that day? Don't even try. You're just going to mess it up. Let someone who is qualified handle it. You're not here to learn, you're here to do, so stop asking questions. Why are you trying to change your life? Are you going through a midlife crisis? Don't you already know who you are and what you like? Come on, you've had over two decades to figure that stuff out. What did you do with all that time?
I wish i could be a permanent college student. I love learning. I'm a huge geek. I had two majors in college (i just used the past tense and it's freaking me out all over again), and would gladly have packed on two or three more plus a handful of minors if i'd had the money. If i could do anything with my life, i'd spend the next twenty years or so collecting multiple degrees from multiple colleges. Think about it: in twenty years, i could attend five four-year colleges. I've already got my psych and English degrees, so i could do journalism and history next. Then maybe religion, with a philosophy minor. Then secondary education (which is what my master's will be in), with maybe a minor in business administration. (Side note: by and large, i think that business degrees are bullshit. But a minor in business administration would allow me to have some legitimacy when i try to take over the administrations of various school systems). I'd want a music degree at some point. And i could finish up with environmental science and government.
But more than my thirst for knowledge and my hunger to distinguish myself (can you tell it's almost lunchtime?), i want to stay within the safe space of college. I like being allowed to experiment. I like being allowed to not know things. I like being allowed to change my mind, to take on a new challenge, to make mistakes. And i really like ramen noodles.
Occasionally, i'll be struck with a small wave of realization, like when i realize that i will never again have the opportunity to study poetry with Kathleen McCann, or pretend to pay attention in class while really editing a poem and texting Emily, who is sitting next to me, also pretending to pay attention while texting me and reading Failbook. (By the way, for all those out there who are bothered by the use of cell phones in class, you should know that Emily passed her English senior comps with distinction and graduated cum laude, and that i passed my psych comps with distinction, my English comps with a high pass, and graduated magna cum laude.)
But mostly, it feels like nothing has changed. This is due in large part to the fact that very little has actually, concretely changed. For the last two summers in a row, i have worked at my school's admissions office. I am still working there now. The only difference is that now, i commute from my apartment instead of living on campus. Plus i have a slightly flashier title. In the fall, i will be taking classes at the same school where i got my undergraduate degrees. Granted, they will be graduate classes and will meet in the evenings, but i will be in the same buildings where i have always had classes, with some of the same professors and probably some of the same students. And there is an excellent chance that i will still be working in the admissions office.
The thing is, i really don't mind being stuck in the college mindset. Everyone is right when they tell you that your college years will be the best of your life. There is something about taking four years to do nothing but learn that is a totally unique and incredible experience.
After college, you're supposed to be pretty much done (barring any post-graduate degrees). College is a time of experimentation, but once you've switched that tassel, experimentation is over. You know who you are and what you want. You've got you all figured out.
During college, you are encouraged to make mistakes. That's how you learn. If you don't know how to do something, you can try anyway, and learn from trial and error. If you don't know the answer, you can find it. It's okay to ask; you're there to learn. You can randomly switch directions without anyone making any judgements. You can change your major, change your haircut, change your sexual orientation, go vegan, start a new sport, join a club, run for student council, break up with someone, whatever. How are you going to find out what you like unless you try everything?
After college, you are encouraged to use the lessons you have learned to do things right. You've already learned. If you don't know how to do something, why not? Did you skip class that day? Don't even try. You're just going to mess it up. Let someone who is qualified handle it. You're not here to learn, you're here to do, so stop asking questions. Why are you trying to change your life? Are you going through a midlife crisis? Don't you already know who you are and what you like? Come on, you've had over two decades to figure that stuff out. What did you do with all that time?
I wish i could be a permanent college student. I love learning. I'm a huge geek. I had two majors in college (i just used the past tense and it's freaking me out all over again), and would gladly have packed on two or three more plus a handful of minors if i'd had the money. If i could do anything with my life, i'd spend the next twenty years or so collecting multiple degrees from multiple colleges. Think about it: in twenty years, i could attend five four-year colleges. I've already got my psych and English degrees, so i could do journalism and history next. Then maybe religion, with a philosophy minor. Then secondary education (which is what my master's will be in), with maybe a minor in business administration. (Side note: by and large, i think that business degrees are bullshit. But a minor in business administration would allow me to have some legitimacy when i try to take over the administrations of various school systems). I'd want a music degree at some point. And i could finish up with environmental science and government.
But more than my thirst for knowledge and my hunger to distinguish myself (can you tell it's almost lunchtime?), i want to stay within the safe space of college. I like being allowed to experiment. I like being allowed to not know things. I like being allowed to change my mind, to take on a new challenge, to make mistakes. And i really like ramen noodles.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
never settle
My new tattoo is about a week old on my skin, and about four years old in my head.
Some time during my freshman year of college, i think around spring break, my mom and i had a conversation about boys. I don't remember anything about this conversation except that it concluded with her saying, "Don't ever settle."
At that time, i was thinking about getting a tattoo, but couldn't decide what i wanted. I would draw doodles (usually birds) or write slogans on my skin with Sharpies (usually on my arms, because they were easiest), trying out colors and sizes and designs, but nothing seemed quite right. I tried a few variations of "never settle", but somehow it didn't quite fit. I eventually settled on the swallow tattoo that was the subject of my last post, and moved on.
I wasn't planning to get another tattoo. I still had some ideas that i liked, but nothing that seemed quite as right as the swallow.
I kept on thinking about the idea of settling, though. I thought about what it meant to settle, and what kinds of situations i had settled in before. I thought about settling romantically, academically, professionally, and spiritually.
I thought about boys i had dated and why, and determined that i would not settle for anything other than what i wanted or deserved ever again. And then i settled. Twice in a row.
I thought about classes and assignments where i should have done better but instead chose to slack off, and determined that i would never again settle for less than what i was capable of. And then i slacked off. In too many classes to mention.
I thought about the job i really wanted and what i would have to do to get it, and determined that i would let nothing get in my way. And then -- well, you can probably guess where this is going.
I spent the first three years of college settling in pretty much every area of my life. I looked for "good enough", instead of holding out for "best". Understand, i'm not trying to disparage the people in my life or the experiences i had or the places i worked. I'm just saying that anything that isn't what you really want is settling, even if it is objectively "better" than your heart's desire. A job that pays a million dollars an hour is settling, if what you really want to do is teach public school. Marrying the world's most perfect man is settling, if you're not really in love with him. Maintaining a perfect 4.0 GPA through college is settling, if you're not passionate about your studies and don't feel that you're getting a full and well-rounded experience.
All of this reflection and determination and settling culminated in the relationship with Casey, where i hung on for over a year because i thought that this was the best thing i could expect. My friend "Ben" argued with me, saying, "Right now, you think you're eating steak. But actually, it's cat food. And you think it's delicious, because you've never had steak before. But one day, you'll have real steak, and you'll be like, 'Why was I eating this shit for so long?'" Eventually, finally, i ended things with Casey, and promptly made the catastrophically bad decision to give my virginity to Theo. More settling. Like i mentioned in the earlier post, i had not had the sex that God wanted for me. I had settled for something less.
My best friend "Sue" and i actually made similar bad decisions on the same night, and talked about it quite a lot over the next few weeks. Although the decisions themselves were similar, the histories leading up to those decisions were very different. However, we were both settling. Sue, knowing nothing of the phrase from my mom that was still bouncing around in the back of my head, said to me, "Let's make a pact. You and i have spent the last three years settling for less than what we want and deserve. Let's make this year different. I think our slogan for 2010-2011 should be 'never settle'."
Of course, i agreed.
A few weeks later, i was reading some cheap celebrity magazine. I don't remember which one, but probably US Weekly. Don't judge. They had a section on tattoo placement, and explained that a rib cage tattoo is extremely painful and extremely significant. Part of the significance comes from the pain; if it is really worth getting, it's worth suffering for. Additionally, because the ribs protect your heart and lungs, a tattoo there is basically sheilding the center of your life force. Every heartbeat and every breath will reinforce the message inked forever on your skin. Plus, it's kind of an intimate area, so if someone is going to be seeing or touching it, it's going to be someone who is very important and special to you. I remember curling my arm instinctively around myself, just below my breasts, and inadvertently flashing back to the last person who had touched me intimately (Theo). I resolved again that the next person to touch me there would not be someone i was settling for.
And another week after that, i was sitting in chapel. I don't remember what the message was, only that it was really speaking to me in a lot of ways. I think it was something about being all that you can be. At one point, what the speaker said was so poignant and appropriate to the moment that Sue texted me (yes, we text in chapel) and said, "Never settle!"
At that moment, i felt God sit next to me and whisper, "That's going to be your next tattoo."
I whispered back, "God, i'm not getting another tattoo. Remember? I only ever wanted this one."
And He looked at me and whispered, "Really? You're going to argue with ME? This is going to be your next tattoo."
And i whispered, "Yeah, but . . . Oh. Yeah. Okay."
It took a few months until i had the ready cash for it, but now i have this tattoo forever. The text was not a font that the guy had. It is my own handwriting. I liked the idea of inscribing those words on my flesh with my own hand (even though technically someone else did the actual inscribing).
This image, these words, this idea, i've been carrying with me for a long time. And now i will carry them with me forever.
Some time during my freshman year of college, i think around spring break, my mom and i had a conversation about boys. I don't remember anything about this conversation except that it concluded with her saying, "Don't ever settle."
At that time, i was thinking about getting a tattoo, but couldn't decide what i wanted. I would draw doodles (usually birds) or write slogans on my skin with Sharpies (usually on my arms, because they were easiest), trying out colors and sizes and designs, but nothing seemed quite right. I tried a few variations of "never settle", but somehow it didn't quite fit. I eventually settled on the swallow tattoo that was the subject of my last post, and moved on.
I wasn't planning to get another tattoo. I still had some ideas that i liked, but nothing that seemed quite as right as the swallow.
I kept on thinking about the idea of settling, though. I thought about what it meant to settle, and what kinds of situations i had settled in before. I thought about settling romantically, academically, professionally, and spiritually.
I thought about boys i had dated and why, and determined that i would not settle for anything other than what i wanted or deserved ever again. And then i settled. Twice in a row.
I thought about classes and assignments where i should have done better but instead chose to slack off, and determined that i would never again settle for less than what i was capable of. And then i slacked off. In too many classes to mention.
I thought about the job i really wanted and what i would have to do to get it, and determined that i would let nothing get in my way. And then -- well, you can probably guess where this is going.
I spent the first three years of college settling in pretty much every area of my life. I looked for "good enough", instead of holding out for "best". Understand, i'm not trying to disparage the people in my life or the experiences i had or the places i worked. I'm just saying that anything that isn't what you really want is settling, even if it is objectively "better" than your heart's desire. A job that pays a million dollars an hour is settling, if what you really want to do is teach public school. Marrying the world's most perfect man is settling, if you're not really in love with him. Maintaining a perfect 4.0 GPA through college is settling, if you're not passionate about your studies and don't feel that you're getting a full and well-rounded experience.
All of this reflection and determination and settling culminated in the relationship with Casey, where i hung on for over a year because i thought that this was the best thing i could expect. My friend "Ben" argued with me, saying, "Right now, you think you're eating steak. But actually, it's cat food. And you think it's delicious, because you've never had steak before. But one day, you'll have real steak, and you'll be like, 'Why was I eating this shit for so long?'" Eventually, finally, i ended things with Casey, and promptly made the catastrophically bad decision to give my virginity to Theo. More settling. Like i mentioned in the earlier post, i had not had the sex that God wanted for me. I had settled for something less.
My best friend "Sue" and i actually made similar bad decisions on the same night, and talked about it quite a lot over the next few weeks. Although the decisions themselves were similar, the histories leading up to those decisions were very different. However, we were both settling. Sue, knowing nothing of the phrase from my mom that was still bouncing around in the back of my head, said to me, "Let's make a pact. You and i have spent the last three years settling for less than what we want and deserve. Let's make this year different. I think our slogan for 2010-2011 should be 'never settle'."
Of course, i agreed.
A few weeks later, i was reading some cheap celebrity magazine. I don't remember which one, but probably US Weekly. Don't judge. They had a section on tattoo placement, and explained that a rib cage tattoo is extremely painful and extremely significant. Part of the significance comes from the pain; if it is really worth getting, it's worth suffering for. Additionally, because the ribs protect your heart and lungs, a tattoo there is basically sheilding the center of your life force. Every heartbeat and every breath will reinforce the message inked forever on your skin. Plus, it's kind of an intimate area, so if someone is going to be seeing or touching it, it's going to be someone who is very important and special to you. I remember curling my arm instinctively around myself, just below my breasts, and inadvertently flashing back to the last person who had touched me intimately (Theo). I resolved again that the next person to touch me there would not be someone i was settling for.
And another week after that, i was sitting in chapel. I don't remember what the message was, only that it was really speaking to me in a lot of ways. I think it was something about being all that you can be. At one point, what the speaker said was so poignant and appropriate to the moment that Sue texted me (yes, we text in chapel) and said, "Never settle!"
At that moment, i felt God sit next to me and whisper, "That's going to be your next tattoo."
I whispered back, "God, i'm not getting another tattoo. Remember? I only ever wanted this one."
And He looked at me and whispered, "Really? You're going to argue with ME? This is going to be your next tattoo."
And i whispered, "Yeah, but . . . Oh. Yeah. Okay."
It took a few months until i had the ready cash for it, but now i have this tattoo forever. The text was not a font that the guy had. It is my own handwriting. I liked the idea of inscribing those words on my flesh with my own hand (even though technically someone else did the actual inscribing).
This image, these words, this idea, i've been carrying with me for a long time. And now i will carry them with me forever.
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