Home is where the heart is...

But what if your heart is in a few different places?

Like here:

Into the morning open your worn and tired heart

I've had a rough week.

I'm not sure what blogging will do to aid in the situation(s), however. I guess I'm not sure what blogging about anything does to help.

But, anyway, we remember the good and helpful things, like

*a hug from housemates

*the color of the sky in the morning

*seeing the stars in the canyon--the only place where Los Angeles can see so clearly

*songs of hope and morning

*a damn good cup of coffee

*knowing my clients are excited to see me when I come to do therapy with them--and that singing and dancing along to the Chicken Little soundtrack counts as therapy

*Liturgy, prayers of the saints, and the Eucharist can always be approached and entered into, no matter how distant my heart feels at the moment

"Summer comes, yeah, as loud as hope and takes your breath away
Winter takes what the summer had to say"...

Matthew 8:18

Forgive my un-edited thoughts...

During these past two days, Shane Claiborne has been our house guest. It has been a wonderful time of sharing conversation and meals together, picking his brain on community living, and him being hospitable enough to allow us to do so. I must say, I have not been moved by the fact I am in such close proximity to an author, public speaker, and renowned voice in the Christian community. A celebrity, of sorts--a lanky, dread-locked, and humble as all can be celebrity, but celebrity nonetheless. Rather, I am moved by being so close to someone who lives with the poor: who intentionally directs his life and deeds towards them, obediently going where Christ would have us go, to where Christ, the Crucified Son of God, is. I am moved because I do not go to the poor. I do not orient my life towards them. I live with that exact mindset: "me" versus "them", "us" versus "those people over there". Don't get me wrong--I care deeply for the poor. I care about their well-being. I am outspoken against unjust political and religious systems that oppress the poor. I pray for the poor--that God would be with them. On occasion, I'll even visit the poor, converse with the poor, break bread with the poor.

I live in a tightly-knit, loving, and faithful community, who also pray for, visit, and care about the poor. I often find myself so thankful that I share life with such people--people who listen, people who care, people who love. People who, at times, burn with a righteous anger at injustice, and who will bravely orient themselves against the Powers That Be to stand on the side of forgotten. People who hunger and thirst for righteousness, and who are constantly praying that God will continually move us to participate in the Kingdom. I live with these people, I work with these people, and I play with these people. These people are my family, and I believe that we, despite all our faults and failures, are a "community"--which is a wonderful, beautiful, Godly thing.

The early church lived in community; they, too, shared live and broke bread together. They were an extension of Christ's Body to the world. They lived out the Gospel, the Good News of Christ: that God has come in Christ, Christ is risen, and Christ will come again. The world is redeemed to God--the gates to the city have been flung wide open, and everyone--everyone, everyone, everyone--can come in. The radical element of the Gospel is not only that the Kingdom is come, but that it is extended to the poor. To the outcast, the prisoners, the slaves, the women, the Gentiles, the broken, the sick, the disabled, the forgotten, the tortured, the poor. When we follow Christ, we follow Christ out into the world, and Christ goes to the poor.

Maybe it's a little harsh to say that I don't live out the Gospel because the poor are not a part of my community. Maybe it's a little harsh to say that the members my church, my community, my family, look a little too much like themselves to be radical. Maybe I just have to trust that its ok--that it takes time to completely change the way we've been raised to live, that the Spirit will move us in that direction when we're ready. Then I think of those in Scripture who approached Christ about participating in the Kingdom, about following His beckoning call. I think of the Rich Young Ruler, who owned so many things that gave him value in this world, he could not conceive of a life more abundant without them. I think of the young man who wanted to wait to bury his father before he followed Christ, who wanted to make sure that his decision would not negatively affect his family, his community.

People in my demographic are often compared to the rich young ruler, as we have grown up in a world that offers us abundance at our fingertips. An abundance we've grown dependent on, that we cannot conceive of a life without it. But, sometimes, I wonder if I am more like the son who wanted to wait to bury his father, who wants to make sure that things move slowly and carefully, so that no one gets hurt in the process. I wonder if I'm like the one who wanted more time to decide, who could not up and leave everything, who wanted to feel prepared. But Christ would have him drop everything and follow Him: follow Him to the Cross, follow Him to the poor. And there is not enough time in the world that could prepare us for such a decision.

So, like many, I am thankful to have Shane, a wonderfully pleasant, kind, gentle man--and a celebrity. I am thankful to have met him, because I am graced by the presence of one who has sought the presence of Christ among the poor, and has found so much joy, love and life there. I pray for the strength, courage, and grace to listen to the whisperings of God like that, even though all that is within me screams, "No, not yet! Let me bury my father, and I will follow You."

Anticipating the feast...

I already did the halloween thing last week (pictured right with Carissa--generic super hero with anonymous greek goddess!). I went to a very fun, very "West Hollywood" party last week, and it was everything one would think a West Hollywood party would be. (Forgive the stereotype, but sometimes they perpetuate themselves, if ya know what I mean.) Talk about an amazing time to people watch and interact with some very, very friendly people! It was a time when I was able to appreciate all of things that Southern California has to offer, which is not something that occurs very frequently. :) Usually during this time of year, I find myself fighting the temptation of embitterment towards the fact that once again, I have been denied a proper Autumn. The leaves that are green have not turned to brown, to say the least (or red, yellow, or orange, for that matter).

So, I actually keep thinking about All Saints Day tomorrow! The more I take seriously the call of community in the life of faith, the more I dwell on the beauty and hope of Eucharist, and thus communion with the saints. I'm really excited that it falls on a Sunday this year, and I get to contemplate it further in the context of my church community.

May we remember who we are, and give thanks for the blessed tradition from which we come.

Almighty God,
who hast knit together thine elect
in one communion and fellowship
in the mystical body of Your Son, Christ our Lord:
Give us grace so to follow Your blessed saints
in all virtuous and godly living,
that we may come
to those ineffable joys
that thou hast prepared for those
who unfeignedly love thee;
through the same Jesus Christ our Lord,
who with thee and the Holy Spirit liveth and reigneth,
one God, in glory everlasting. Amen

~Book of Common Prayer, 1979

Heritage...

Can we talk about how cool my saint name sake was?  Friends with Augustine??

Listening to Nico helps, oddly enough.

Today didn't happen. At least I really hope so...

But I think it did. At least, the good parts did. I'll deal with the rest later.

Today didn't happen. At least I really hope so...

But I think it did. At least, the good parts did. I'll deal with the rest later.

newness/constants

Five new things that I have grown to love:

1.) Learning about homeopathic medicine/herbal remedies (and self-diagnosing myself with various ailments in order to put my newfound knowledge to use)

2.) Seasonal cooking

3.) Meeting new people

4.) That terrible screeching sound indicating a successful fax transmission

5.) KCRW's Morning Becomes Eclectic. (But now I get annoyed when they start playing the same Indie music all of the time...)

Five things my love for which has been recently awakened:

1.) The life and writings of Søren Kierkegaard

2.) Practicing Spanish again

3.) Children

4.) Dreaming of North Carolina

5.) Listening to records (ok, the hiatus was only about two months, but that is a long time Playing Records to Enliven the Soul Land).

Sometimes five is about as much as we can do...

Today is one of the days during which I am very tempted to constantly think, "Can't you do anything right?"

Undergrad

Nothing can be so amusingly arrogant as a young man who has just discovered an old idea and thinks it is his own.
- Sidney J. Harris

"Sex without Shame"

Sojourners has little jewels of goodness here and there.

This article from the Sojourners website is important to read, even if you agree with everything being said. It's even better if you read it with someone, if simply to remind us that sexuality is a communal and ecclesiological reality.

"Liberation!"

This week I decided two very important things:

1.) It's high time I introduce shorts back into my life; and,

2.) The pressure for women to shave their legs is misogynistic. And a pain in the butt. So, feministicly, I decided I'm not going to do that for awhile. (Also, think of how cool, artsy, and thoughtful I'll appear!) Thank goodness my Croatian blood does not include dominant dark hair genes.

I feel good about both of these; the title of this post might make the reader think that perhaps these might be rather freeing decisions, and that's very true. I've been thinking about the human body, mine specifically, in terms of them being our mode of interaction with the world. Think about it: God decided to bring together various elements into entities that are nothing more than lumps of flesh and blood, and breathed life into them. Life not simply understood as the sudden flow blood cells through ventricles, but as the many parts assembled suddenly became a Whole Being. Something that Is, not simply exists. Something whose brain could not only send information through its nerves to direct the lenses of the eyes to gaze at the heavens, which sends the image back to the brain, but also wonder. I am my body, and my body is me: I am known by the image of my self and the presence of my body to others. I am made to know my Creator through shivers that run down my spine and the pulsating of my heart when I sense something that I know I cannot through my senses.

So, in my many attempts to understand the audacity of property and the necessity of expropriation, I think too of my body: how odd is it that we will constantly step out of our bodies to look at ourselves, cast judgement (often with great anxiety) on what doesn't look like what we think it should look like, and attempt to arduously manipulate the individual parts of it, so as to reflect something (or someone) that isn't us. I am constantly trying, but mostly just wanting, to look like someone that isn't me! How absolutely preposterous is that? And I know it all comes back to the mindset upheld by the social consciousness that our value lies in how we are perceived, mostly by strangers, who have never spent a moment in conversation with us to know who we are.

I know that I have always believed that I won't be loved if I don't look a certain way, never mind the rest of the whole that constitutes who I am. And I've realized this is just so silly! Who is not going to love me because I have cellulite on my inner thighs, or some baby padding around my waist? I wrote this in my journal last week in the midst of feeling rather self-conscious about my upper arms:

I was just thinking about how absolutely ridiculous this statement would sound out: loud: "You know, I would like you, if your upper arms better reflected the currently cultural standard of leanness and muscle tone, achieved through a strict diet and rigorous exercise. You're really great, though..."

Beauty is a gift of God for our eyes to see and our hearts to feel. People are beautiful, and are gifted to us by the grace of God. The moment we start valuing our bodies as just pieces of flesh and bone that we can manipulate to look like something else, we loose not only a vision of ourselves, but we also fail to rejoice. The moment we fail to recognize people as beautiful gifts of God, we fail to rejoice. So, when I wear shorts, and choose to not live up to a ridiculous cultural expectation of smooth legs, I am liberated--made free to rejoice.

Instead of transcending ourselves, we must move into ourselves. Tell the image makers and magazine sellers and the plastic surgeons that you are not afraid. That what you fear the most is the death of imagination and originality and metaphor and passion. Then be bold and LOVE YOUR BODY. STOP FIXING IT. It was never broken.

--Eve Ensler

"The Pen is Might[ier]"

Maybe if I post things that I've written before I might get more motivated to write something new...

Maybe.

Anyway, this is from about a year ago.  It's far from perfect, hardly edited, and actually liked by me. 

That is why concession became a word that was more and more meaningful to her: its presence in her consciously accepted subconscious became the lens thru which she interpreted everything around her. The boom of every laugh was slightly muted. The brightness of the setting sun was less menacing. The immobility that gripped her, that sunk its claws into her open eyes every morning, as she would lie motionless on her back in bed was all because she had conceded to the fact that he had not. The painful glimmer of hope that she had used to taunt her own better judgement fell from its perch fruitless--as all things artificial suck the life out that from which it originates, yielding nothing by means of compost and promise. Lying between her sheets every morning, she enacts her concession, watching her blind, stupid hope flit down through the air like a plastic shopping bag caught in the wind, watching it inevitably sink, yet still thrusts itself upwards at times in a last ditch effort to fly again.

"You should be a bird," she always thinks, watching her un-recyclable, transparent hope dance before her on its way down, aiming to entice her with its artificial beauty. "I wanted you to be a bird."

She finishes her illicit rendezvous with her hope every morning by punching her loving and sympathetic pillow.  They usually start out rapid and powerfully, the blow delivered by a fist clenched as tightly as the anatomy of the human hand allows. The punches were intended to create the most trauma and devastation to its target--a very pliable pillow personified as a very specific human face. As the satisfaction derived from what was imagined as the breaking of facial bones and eruption of blood vessels began to subside, so did the punching. That breaking point always occurred when she felt a tiny solitary tear escape; after the first tear, she quit with an added grace of pacifism and continued on with her day. She was determined to maintain some air of strength, convinced he didn't deserve more than just one of her tears each day. So on a particularly windy day in her imagination, she would spend a great deal of the time allotted to her morning routine aggressively slamming her fist into her pillow.

the ever-constant musings on the possibilities of expropriation...

something i was thinking about in terms of property: if we think that we own things, that means we feel entitled, and we also feel entitled to people. like, when i meet someone wonderful, my first reaction is that i deserve to be with them, because they are so great. and i get upset when i think that someone great doesn't want to be with me. like i am 'entitled' to 'own' the wonderfulness of that person, so to speak.

it just comes down to us not knowing/practicing how to love and marvel at something wonderful that was created, without feeling like we are entitled to own it/them: like, open spaces, food, art, things, people.

just some thoughts.

Dear Surprise(s),

i would be much obliged if you would kindly cease from performing such charming and gracious acts that may cause me to fall for you.


sincerely yours,

This was a year ago...

Of the better parts of 2008 was the summer, even though we did not know it.  The obscurity that resulted from the big life change of graduation had left us with no money, no clarity, and time to use our imaginations.  We were settling down in the unknown in anticipation for the permanent, and on our worst days that left us in abject horror.  Plans, plans, plans, with predictable outcomes and expected fulfillment, is what drove us to the edge of insanity and back while we navigated through our education, endured existential breakdowns, and befriended those who we would want to be in our weddings some day.  But those plans were suddenly absent from our lives, their sweet comfortable structures as reassuring as those parts of childhood we cling to in our memories.  Snatched from our hands with considerable violence, we lost our perspective and sense of direction--up was no long right, good no longer west.

But, we had learned to be resilient. We could be given $3 and make our day's meals; we could be given three hours and create a thesis.  So when we were given life with no direction, we filled it with each other: weekly dinners together, evening reading time at coffee shops, theological discussions over a pint, job hunting in each other's living rooms, creative dinner parties, back yard reflections with a smoke.  Small excursions distracted us from the fact we weren't escaping from anything.  Journeys into the heart and world of a masterpiece helped rebuild meaning in our own.  Prayers over meals, smiles and laughter because we were all in this together.  

And, then, suddenly, we weren't; some of us found full-time employment that sparked excitement in our hearts, and some found their hearts were best to roam elsewhere.  We started to fill our lives with the stability we were yearning for rather than each other, and it took awhile to notice the absence.  That the colors that surrounded us seemed less vibrant--that the beauty of life in somewhat less compelling when you can't point it out to someone else.  

A tasty little teaser...

Ok, so I've been M.I.A. for the past two months on here, so I offer this formal apology to my five followers who have probably been anxiously checking the blog daily, wearing out the front edge of their chairs and couches in anticipation for new posts.  Lo siento.

This mid-Lent to post-Easter season has brought along many changes for me, both promising and tragic, yet always hopeful.  And all of which will hopefully be chronicled in a blog post for all to partake in.  Here are some small updates and potential teasers:

 

*I may have found the graduate program I want to participate in!  It's an M.A. of Religion at Claremont Graduate University--I'll probably specialize in the Ethics and Society track, and focus on Social Ethics.  I'm going to an informational meeting next month, so I'll give an update on how that goes...

*I have found where I will be living after the summer, and that's all I can say about that right now...(but trust me, it's good stuff!)

*My community at home has experienced a terrible loss through the death of our friend and my former high school pastor Ed Denton on April 15.  I'm still daily processing this, though very slowly and very quietly.  I had to drive up north for the service last weekend, and I started a post on that experience as well.  

*Danica and Matt have successfully indoctrinated me into nerdom, because I am so excited for these two movies to come out in May.  Hopefully us at Sci-Fi Pi will get our acts together after watching these...

*I posted some pictures of my various travels on my Picasa page.  There is a slideshow near the bottom of my blog page with a link to the site.  View, and enjoy...

There's more, but I won't write them down, 'cause, eh...I'm still emerging from my lazy slump.

What I wish I was doing last Tuesday, but I have peace that I couldn't

And it came to me then
That every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU
That reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself
That I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD
Took you a little farther away from me
Away from me

Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines
In a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend
On a faulty camera in our minds
But I knew that you were a truth
I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground
As the TV entertained itself

'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous paces bracing for bad news
Then the nurse comes around and everyone lifts their head
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said
That love is watching someone die

A tale of modern children's interpretations of Easter

This is an almost verbatim transcript of a scene at my church this Easter Sunday.  A bit disconcerting, and very hilarious...

At my church on Easter Sunday...

Pastor Josh: "Do any of you kids know what day it is?"
Kids: "EASTER!"
Josh: "Right! Do you know what Easter is about?"
Kid 1: "Umm, well, I thiiiiiink...eggs?"
Josh: "Well, yes, um...do you know what comes out of eggs?"
Kid 2 (son of pastor): "Oooh, oooh, I know! CANDY!"
Josh: "Any what else?"
Chorus of children: "MONEY!!!"

Oh, and that Jesus guy, right?  I'll say whatever you want, just keep giving me candy!

A half-hearted excuse

So, this quote: A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.
- Thomas Mann

sums up March's deficiency of entries.  

Holy Cow, I love Beirut...

Give me a man who can play the accordian...
That's all.

Let this be what it may...

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ through whom we have gained access by faith into this race in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit. who, has given us."
Romans 5:1-5

Baraba (transl. "Lover boy".)

Above is the only word I know in my grandfather's native tongue. Well, that, and another word that does not have a kind English translation...

This is something else that made me happy to be Croatian (The red stitched pattern is now the background on my computer.)  

That made me happy to legitimately feel connected to a place and history and people, even though those nouns and concepts have little to no affect on my daily life.  I guess part of the American Curse is that we are forced to grasp on to any dangling end of any line of heritage we can, even though we were forced to cut our un-cuttable ties generations ago.  

We need to talk

I think I need me some "spiritual leader" or mentor or something of the like. Where d'ya get one of those?

When things from long ago suddenly make sense again...

You have led me to the sadness
I have carried this pain
On a back bruised, nearly broken
I'm crying out to you

Chorus
I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy

When death like a gypsy
Comes to steal what I love
I will still look to the heavens
I will still seek your face

But I fear you aren't listening
Because there are no words
Just the stillness and the hunger
For a faith that assures

Chorus

Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia

While we wait for rescue
With our eyes tightly shut
Face to the ground using our hands
To cover the fatal cut

And though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
Higher mountains have come down

Chorus

Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia

Yeah

Alleluia, alleluia alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia alleluia, alleluia

Chorus (4 Xs)

Oh, Lord sing of Your mercy,
Mercy
Your mercy

Happy Lent

I got up at 6:15 this morning.  There was no sunrise to behold, but the singing of the birds gave me hope for a new day...

I read the daily readings for the Lenten season from the Book of Common Prayer this morning, along with Nouwen's Show Me the Way; the readings from Nouwen and from the Word were both of grace and discernment--a call to live in the mercy of God in belief of this silly freedom in forgiveness we adhere to.  Hebrews 12:1-14  left me a little jaded, though--I still can't quite grasp the concept that God has us go through trials and periods of suffering as a means to better ourselves to be with God.  This is something I struggled with when I first read Wesley's A Plain Account of Christian Perfectionism: if suffering is of God because that is the path God chose, then how do those who are forced to suffer great things every day read Hebrews 12:1-14.  In some ways, how do I read that passage?  Have these great things I've suffered been purposeful so that 'I may be more like Him', or something?  I can't help but jump to a Neo-Marxist paradigm when reading this, though: it just seems like a good method of keeping the suffering in society in their place.

Obviously, I need a little enlightenment and Biblical interpretation here.  Please, if you can help illuminate this passage in the Holy Word of God for me, I would greatly appreciate it.  May we always hope in things unseen...

P.S.

February is going to kick Jan's ass in number of postings!  Five days left, and I've already caught up.  Uhhhh!

I'm sure this has been done before,

but I'm still gonna play around with it...

Sporadic rendition of a modern love letter.  

I kno that technology isnt the best wayof saying it, but I rally luv u. Alot.
Is luv alwys precise and carful? Isnt it a outpourig of the heart? I hope our childrn and grandchilren dont look at our emails someday and thnik, ‘i don know if he


contd.really luved her, because he wouldnt spell it right’. I hope they think, he luved her so much he couldnt wait for grammar to catch up.” Or sumthing like that. Ok, srry for such a

contd.long text, but i hope it makes u smile. ;)

I don't know, I'd love to receive this someday...

I'm a delight?

I had my 90-day review at work today...90 days late. :)

It went really well--to put it immodestly, they sang my praises.  They told me that the things I do, really without thinking about them, are great and an example to others, yadda yadda.  It was weird, because I don't really feel as if I try really hard at this job.  I try to be patient, all the time.  I try to think about everything I do before I do it, all the time.  I try to keep my snarkyness and cynicism at bay, as much as possible.  (haha).  But this job really seems to be a natural extension of, well...me.  And my review with my supervisors sort of confirmed that.

So, I don't know what is more scary: not knowing where you are going to go with your life, or to be at the place you might end up. 

(I purposely switched the word "like" with the phrase "as if" in this post because of Danica and Matt...now I won't be able to, as if, use that word, as if, you know...as if, without thinking about how, you know...as if...how stupid I sound when I say it.)

Things to remember...

Art can be a gift to the world or a personal expression of the soul. If it can be imagined, it's poetry...

It's not that you aren't good enough for him/her. In fact, it's usually the opposite...

A natural, organic love for the rejected emerges when you adopt their identity...

God meets the created in birth, water, and wind...

Hope is not naive. It may be the purest form of worship of all...

I will pay someone to design my tattoo

Talking about it in my second edition of "25 things about me" list made me realize that I am really ready to do it.  I've been thinking about it for over a year, with different elements fading and changing, but this design is the one I keep coming back to.  I think it's a great testament to the journey I've been on--where God has taken me and where I hope and pray to go.  

SO, if you or anyone else feels like they want to design it for the monays, let me know!  Here is what I want again:

Sparrow and Blackbird (from left to right) holding up a banner that reads Dum Spiro Spero ("While I breathe, I hope" in Latin).  This will be on my left shoulder blade, or in that approximate vicinity.  

 

Oh. And I impulsively got a hair cut. You likey?

And that is after sleeping on it. Not bad, eh?

"I am blessed to be a witness."

I just really love God and the Crucified Son so much.  And I don't dwell in that enough--yet I am still given wonderful little reminders about why I love Jesus day in and day out.  

That's all. 

Corcovado parted the sky
And through the darkness
On us he shined
Crucified in stone
Still his blood is my own
Glory behold all my eyes have seen
Have seen

"Hold me, my world is closing; help me to keep it open..."

I just really feel that these lyrics by Denison Witmer are really pertinent to small but great quest of healing and understanding I'm on.  Counselor and I talked about what it would look like to invite more people into my story tonight, instead of it carrying it in that safe quiet place in my brain that I have been storing it.  That concept absolutely terrifies me, and articulating why is exhausting in equal weight, right now.  There are some things we've carried for so long, our muscles have fused with the burdens they bear, and we fear what we will look like if we give it up.  Sometimes, feelings run so deeply, we wonder if God will stoop so low to bless them, so we don't offer them at all in fear that we are right.  

My hope is that I am being walked with, even though I can't want it or feel it there.  

I wish my blog was more relevant to the mass public.  It's a rather selfish (like 'self...ish?') blog, if ya think about it.  I'll probably start a new one soon--so look out for....

Pies and Sci Fi! Awesome Science Fiction commentary by two intelligent, thoughtful, witty, and beautiful women! Pie Recipes! Impressive html'ing! Yes!

Coming to a blog near you in 2009!

this just in...

I am very anti-social. 

I think, actually, the term 'asocial', as in, 'without, or lacking in opportunity for, social interaction' may provide better insight to my current predicament.  I remember when it was a thrill to squeeze in a 45-min coffee date with a friend into my jam-packed college life schedule.  Now, I am excited to have dinner plans once in a week scheduled on my iCal, while the rest of the empty blank squares staring at me, the oblivion that constitutes their white nothingness mocking me for being so damn lame.  Friday night, by myself?  LAME.  

And this time ('cause I find that I am a creature of habit when it comes to asocial-ism), it's not because I am depressed or too exhausted or too overwhelmed with making sure the fundamentals of life are in line: I literally don't know what to do.  There are always the fail-safes of cable TV, internet, and helping the economy get all ship-shaped again with needless spending, of course, but I don't think I really need to elaborate on why those methods are inadequate, at best.  I think the culprit is a lack of imagination.  I don't know what to do with myself when the activity that accounts for most of my day does not spill over into its remaining hours.  This is why I have the urge to take another class: just to have something predictable enrichment activity to put in my calendar!  Deadlines, I need deadlines to be productive!  

Anyway, that's it.  The point of this post was most likely to take up some of my evening.  And I have successfully utlized...oh....10 minutes of my Friday night.  

Hmm.  

P.S.  I have done very well with my posting this year thus far!  I have already met and may likely surpass my last-year high of 8 posts in a month in the first month of 2009!  Well done, me, well done!

Impressive

I found this website that does some personality measurements through answering simple questions with pictures. I really enjoyed doing it, and I actually think that this is one of those tests that actually accurately assessed my approach to life and job skills and such. Whatya think?

Do the quiz yourself!


Your Core Skills
A natural academic, you have an extremely impressive capacity for deep analytical thinking. You are able to absorb and efficiently interpret extremely complex material. This is balanced with strong communications skills. You are confident about expressing yourself and feel most comfortable when channels of communication are open.

Potential Areas Of Weakness
You have a low tolerance for inefficiency or for muddled thinking and this may mean that you are reluctant to collaborate except with the most impressive minds you know. As a result, you may come across as arrogant and valuable contributions may be missed. Your need to think things through rigorously may mean that you fail to fulfill the potential of your dynamic creative mind.

Areas You Might Want To Work On
pay more attention to personal management tasks and time planning
make the effort to ensure that communication is two-way - actively encourage and listen to feedback from your colleagues
embrace your creative streak and allow yourself to make informed leaps of faith if required
Careers That May Suit You
SCIENTIFIC JOURNALIST UNIVERSITY PROFESSOR DETECTIVE FORENSIC PATHOLOGIST CONSULTANT
Your Detailed Personality Assessment
You clearly have an impressive and flexible intellect which you are able to apply successfully to whatever takes your fancy. You work best when you are energised by challenging ideas and concepts. You owe it to yourself to make sure that your work environment offers you maximum stimulation and satisfaction. By keeping things fresh you will find the buzz and intellectual reward that you need to keep you exhilarated. You have great potential when it comes to inspiring others so it would be really worthwhile to try to incorporate an element of this interaction into your daily work.

When it comes to leadership, you are a firm believer in conviviality. You like to be a friend as well as a boss. Job satisfaction lies in building strong relationships with the people you work with. But it's important to always be careful not to blur those boundaries.

You have a strong sense of wonder and enchantment at the world around you. You probably get a kick out of blue sky brainstorming.

You can sometimes be quite laid-back about achieving your goals. You tend to land on your feet and so you don't get too stressed about pushing too hard. You definitely have a good life-work balance. And it's true, sometimes success comes to those who don't seem too desperate. This healthy attitude is great so long as you don't come across as disinterested or lazy. It's important that you make sure your colleagues feel that you are pulling your weight.

You're feeling fairly laid-back about life right now. You're pretty content with the status quo. There's nothing major to stress you out so it makes sense just to take things gently and avoid any big dramas. It's not surprising that you're feeling upbeat. You seem to be getting a lot of satisfaction from your work. And this good feeling pervades the rest of your life.

The way you approach each day can have huge implications for your success in the workplace. Bouncing out of bed with a spring in your step doesn't exactly come naturally to you. You sometimes find it difficult to get moving in the mornings. It might be worth trying to reinvigorate your morning routine so that getting out of bed is more of a pleasure than a battle! That way you can face the day firing on all cylinders. If you haven't already, why not try exploring some evening relaxation techniques that might help you get the rest you need - whether it's yoga, a soak in the tub or even a full-on gym session. It could make all the difference.

The Future
You may not be looking for a new job right now but you're committed to understanding more about yourself and recognise how valuable this can be in terms of self-development. Life an feel like a bit of an endurance race sometimes. It's all about making sure that you have the stamina and commitment to go the distance. You seem to be quite pragmatic about the fact that work has its ups and downs, and this is a really healthy way to be, as long as this doesn't dampen your natural enthusiasm for life.

today

She saw that there was frost on the ground and knew she was in for an interesting day...

merrrp.

Found this in a journal.  Not very coherent, but yous gets the idea.

Also: I have an ideeeaaaaa?  For a boooook? (said with a crescendo-ed high-pitched voice).

 I wrote this day before I enrolled in Fuller Counseling (Nov 10 2008).

I have never been more drawn and repelled to a single item in my entire life...

I know the reality of fighting escapism with escapism--those days when the only time you know you are slightly tolerable is when you are severely alone.  Even then you clad yourself in anonymity, to cover your head from God and the world. On those days, the battle against your own body is so tempting. 

The understood sensual alluredness is right on, for the only way will fight so dirtily against ourselves is if we believe we look sexy doing it.  And, oh, do we look sexy: lips parted to shape our mouths into an O, exhibiting our superhuman ability to breathe in fire.  With every inhale we are tempting death, and  our every exhale is the aversion of fate, the victory of the chase, the high-five after getting laid.  We are the Ubermann, and we blow our smoke the face of the morality that pits itself as the  basis against our actions.  Our smoke creates rings that tighten around its neck, lassoing it to our back pockets.

Because we need that morality to smoke in the first place, to remind us that something is so despicably wrong inside of us that it can't be faced and must be smoked out of us into the open.  When the wrongness is so strong we find it can't possibly exist (and also find ourselves arguing that we shouldn't either), that drag is the only thing that's real--more real than the day you might live tomorrow, more real than the promise of something new and big, or small, more real than the fantastical dreams you might chase away with a warm breakfast the next morning...

Snap.

Without realizing, I had killed my possibility of existence.  Between my two fingers lay the two halves, innards exposing nothing but flaky earthy repetition, the pattern of humanity's moments of  defining their being.  I could not see the possibility of clarity but only death and ashes, flicked away on the ground beneath my feet, or blended an ashtray of all the thoughts of the generations that approach it.

I throw my promise away, and begin to think about cloud formations and what color scarf to wear the next morning...

Just putting this out there

This is something I might do in a year or so, if I don't go to graduate school at that time.  Or after.  Maybe just someday...

I might do it here.  Or even here?  We shall see.  I don't know when or if--all I can recognize is a small subtle whisper transpiring in what I perceive this little life to be.  

***

As I was typing this entry, my friend instant messaged me this excerpt from Alexander Schmemann's For the Life of the World: "The Eucharist is the entrance of the Church into the joy of its Lord. And to enter into that joy, so as to be a witness to it in the world, is indeed the vary calling of the Church, its essential leitourgia, the sacrament by which it "becomes what it is." The liturgy of the Eucharist is best understood as a journey or procession. it is the journey of the Church into the dimension of the Kingdom."

Sign from God?  Probably. :)

Needs

Frost/Nixon

Revolutionary Road

Rachel Getting Married

Milk

am I missing something?

ehhh

Wow, my last post was very...er, how you say--vulnerable?  I'm not sure whether I should apologize or not.  I guess that's what blogs are, though: they either feed the author's narcissism or give them a false sense of safety and security to practice the art of intimacy.   

What's left

My past counseling session was a little traumatic--not because of the subject matter discussed (which, mind you, often wades in the pool of dysfunction and tip-toes near the boundaries of neurosis), nor my tendency to burst into tears within five-minutes of sitting on my very nice intern-counselor's couch, but because of the following conversation.

Counselor: (After spending the duration of the session discussing how I don't feel that I deserve to take care of myself) "So...how are you right now?"

Me: (with tears welling up in my eyes, and wringing a messy mascara-stained tissue in my hand) "Um...ok..."

Counselor: (Sits back with a slight smile, that smirky, smirky smile). "I'm going to leave that for now..."

Me: (What??!! You bastard! How can you do this to me?) "Are we meeting next week?" (please please please please PLEASE)

Counselor: "Ho-hum...I guess I could make it out here on Monday..."

Me: "Uh, no, it's ok...we can meet after the New Year," (I'm only dying inside)

Counselor: (With a genuine smile) "Great! So, you remember what to make the check out to? And, also...just try to have fun."

I'm not sure if it was the insistence to plunge into the very depths of my murky soul and then cut me off with an clearly impossible answer to my unanswerable questions, or that frackin smile he had on his face the whole time that caused the emotional atom bomb. All I know is that I've had really bad heartburn ever since.

What is really disheartening is that after two weeks, I will fail to report back anything from my first and only homework assignment tomorrow. 11 days of genuine time spent with family, friendships caught up on, adventures in different cities, a beautiful and sacred union of two souls, breakthrough personal and spiritual conversations, laughs, tears, and more canine cuddling than I could ever want, yet I can't say I know joy. This is the first time in my life when I have seriously considered requesting a prescription for Prozac. And I definitely can't blame it on the weather.

I wonder if part of moving on is embracing the pain that is deterring you from doing so. I hurt. A lot. Because of various, often terrible things. And I need help. Many people in the mental health field would say that in that sentence, I've just fought half the battle. That it's brave to do what I've done. I think my bravery is very quiet; a small voice trapped amongst the schedules, duties and real, very real problems of others, and is often left between my two ears. As much as I hate to admit it, I think that with somethings, you have to be brave alone. And I'm not really sure I can do that right now.

So, I'm left popping extra-strength Tums, taking numerous pictures of my face on my MacBook so I remember that it's pretty, and listening to the same songs over and over again until they make me feel numb. They probably aren't paying Mr. Counselor enough for this...