Ég tala bara ensku. Takk fyrir, islensku.

Hmmm

2011-09-02T17:49:00.000-07:00

Remember when I used to maintain a blog? Yeah...

I miss that. Every month or so I think about it and want to post something, but then I invariably get frustrated and give up (within about 5 seconds of the original thought). I think a big reason is that, on the one hand, I've given relatively few people access to this blog, and I don't think any of those people even read it anymore (especially since there's now nothing to read) so it just kind of feels like "Eh, what's the point--no one reads this anyway." But I hesitate to make it too public, as I am a chronic over-sharer. What to do, what to do...

Eh, it's not REALLY a dilemma. I dunno...mumblegrumblemumble.

"I'm an Animal" by Neko Case

2011-01-25T21:40:00.000-08:00

You could say it's my instinct--yes, I still have one. There's no time to second-guess it.
Yes, there are things that I'm still so afraid of, but my courage is roaring like the sound of the sun...

I'm an animal. You're an animal, too.

Pick up that rock, drink from that lake.

I do my best, but I'm made of mistakes.

Yes, there are things that I'm still quite sure of: I love you this hour--this hour today--and heaven will smell like the airport...

.

Boring, Ill-Spoken (and Trite) Thoughts on Love and Needyness and Other Lame Things

2011-01-24T21:27:00.000-08:00

It is frustrating, yet at once somehow rewarding, that nothing you can say about love has not been said before. It has been said. It has beaten in many hearts and been poured out in every language, every day for mankind's humble thousands of years. It's like a universal celebration--the pinnacle of the magic of humanity.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Oft have I lamented of late that I am so needy and demanding (at least as I see it). I think back to last summer, when talking to him online was a daily joy, and a carefree one at that. It was a perk, though it was rapidly becoming more than that. But now, it is an all-out need. When we went to TN for Paige's wedding I didn't have any contact with him for 3 days and then didn't have a substantial conversation with him for 3 days after that. By the end of that nearly week-long period, I was stressed out, insecure, and melancholy. I kept grasping at straws, trying to pinpoint the problem that was making me feel so anxious about our relationship. Very late on the 6th day we finally spent some time together (albeit online, sadly), and we laughed and conversed and engaged, and it was wonderful. The next day there were no problems; there was no stress. I guess I just needed him, and that need had been answered.

It's a startling awakening, and one that will take some time getting used to.

It makes me feel afraid. I love all the ways I feel about him, including the way I need him, but many past experiences have taught me that needing people drives them away, and it's hard to shake the residual anxiety.

How do you get used to needing someone? I have spent so much time perfecting my independence. I have zero qualms selling it in a heartbeat in exchange for a life with this man--that's not the part that frightens me. It's the...I guess the vulnerability. (Hah. Truly, there is nothing new under the sun.) I am so afraid that I will drive him away by craving him too fiercely, adoring him too poignantly, wanting to love him too intensively. Logically, I know that I won't (as much as one can know anything, that is). His reassurances are as complete as my trust in him. But still, the instinctive push from the gut is ever-present, warning me to hold back, lest I single-handedly ruin everything.

I don't know. This is a lot of work, and I love it. Every difficult conversation, even the ones that have put me in tears, have something underneath them that is overwhelmingly good. I do not begrudge the effort--not in the least. There are problems now that will surely abate when the distance no longer stands between us, but I know very well that season after season will present problems anew. I welcome the challenges. They are part and parcel with a beauty and deep-seated happiness like I have never known.

.

After Years of Holding My Breath

2011-01-02T15:58:00.000-08:00

With Sean:
I wanted to be a voice of intelligence and reason in an often confused and frustrating humanity. I wanted to be exciting, inspirational, a mistress of many adventures. I wanted to be a force of validation and expansion. I wanted to be strong: a bastion of conviction, steadfastness, and thereby of comfort. I wanted to be a proof of good.

I was too willing to lead.

What I got from him was emotional irresponsibility, an inability to perceive and apply with empathy, and a cowardice mixed with well-meaning ambivalence. His well-meaning yielded more uselessness than anything.

With David:
I wanted to be tough, a quick-witted tomboy with a scathing wit. I wanted to be a blade of reason, master over the absurdity--supposed or otherwise--of effeminate emotions. I wanted to be a hardy companion for the challenges of nature, sport, and play. I wanted to be impressive in my knowledge. I wanted to be surprising. I wanted to be the other piece that he needed, to bend (and happily!) to the role of wife that he would require.

I was too willing to be led.

What I got from him was infatuation: a short-lived smattering of emotion that confused our interactions, bred frustration and lofty false hopes, and met its end in a flood of discourse. Fortunately, what remained in the aftermath was a sturdy, unblinking friendship.

With Josh:
I don't want to be anything, because I don't have to want to be anything. I get to be all of the things I wanted to be with everyone else, but I don't have to want to be them. My self is a body of dynamic liberation, and I am easy, and I am loved.

I am loved.

I am whatever I want to be, effortlessly (how novel!), and for it I am loved.

.

Troilus and Cressida

2011-01-01T20:45:00.000-08:00

But on the other hand, the sturdy oak,
On which have been delivered many a blow,
Receives at last the happy falling stroke,
And all at once the whole tree down doth go,
Like heavy rocks or millstones falling low;
For things of weight come down with swifter flight
When they descend, than do things that are light.

A reed that lowly bows before the blast,
After the wind again will lightly rise.
But not so when an oak-tree down is cast--
Of course you see what this exemplifies.
One should take pleasure in an enterprise
Of pith and moment placed beyond a doubt,
Though it took time to bring it all about. (94)

***************

Cressida in his arms thus boldly taken,
As all wise clerks have said in books of old,
Shook like an aspen leaf by breezes shaken,
As his strong arms about her body fold;
And Troilus, all freed of care so cold,
Gave thanks to those bright gods, glorious seven--
In sundry ways thus folk are brought to heaven. (154)

***************

These happy two, whose joys I've been reporting,
Who now at last in love were so secure,
They fell to talking, and in playful sporting
They told how, when and where they first were sure
They knew each other, and how they did endure
The griefs now passed; for all that might annoy
This night was turned at last to perfect joy! (161)

***************

"Believe me well that neither vain delight,
Nor royal rank, nor yet the high respect
Of you in war, or in the tourney fight,
Nor pomp, nor wealth, nor dress, did aught affect
My heart, and thy sole image there erect--
No, moral virtue, firmly set and true,
That was the reason why I first loved you.

"The gentle heart and manhood that you had,
And nobly cherished, ever in despite
Of all things leaning to the low and bad,
All coarseness and all vulgar appetite,
So that your reason bridled your delight--
For this I was above all others yours,
And shall be so, as long as life endures.

"Through length of years my love I'll not forsake,
Nor Fortune, mutable, shall e'er deface
My heart! But Jupiter, who well can make
The wretched glad, give us the happy grace
To meet again in ten nights in this place;
But now, alas, how swift the hour flies!
Farewell, dear heart, for now you must rise."

'Tis thus they end their long lamentings sad,
And kiss, and each in other's arms enfold;
But daylight breaks, and Troilus now clad,
Full sadly doth his lady's face behold,
As one who feels the breath of death so cold,
And with a grief that heavy on him bore,
Of last goodbyes he said to her a score.

I doubt if any head imagine can,
Or judgment weigh, or any tongue could tell
The cruel anguish of this woeful man,
Surpassing all the torments dire of hell;
Since with his lady he no more may dwell,
His heart perturbed and dark with dread portent,
Forth from her chamber, silently he went. (238)

*****************

To bed he goes, and tosses there and turns...
...And to himself these sorrowing words he spoke:

"Oh where is now my lovely lady dear?
Where are her breasts so white, O where, O where?
Where are her arms and where her eyes so clear,
Which yesternight were solace to my care?
Now I must weep alone in dark despair,
And blindly grope, but nothing in this place,
Except a pillow, find I to embrace!

..."And how shall I for ten whole days survive,
If the first night suffer all this pain?
And how shall she, my sweetheart, keep alive?
How shall her tender heart such woe sustain?
What sorry signs of grief must still remain
Imprinted on her fair and gracious face
Until time brings her back unto this place!" (250)

*****************

"But Troilus, I pray thee, tell me now,
Do you believe that any such delight
In love a living man hath known as thou?
Why, yes, God knows! And many a worthy wight
Has lacked his lady for a whole fortnight,
And hath not made one half the stir and fuss!
Why must you then be so tempestuous?

"For you yourself, on any day, may see,
How one must leave his lady-love or wife,
Through some compulsion or necessity,
Though she were dear to him as his own life,
Yet will not make such great to-do and strife;
For one takes such things as one takes the weather,
The best of friends can't always be together.

..."Hard hit such lovers are, but take it soft,
For hope survives to hold their hearts aloft;
Their needful time of sorrow they endure,
For time brings sorrow, and brings sorrow's cure.

"So take things as they come and let time slide,
And cultivate a joyous heart and light!
Ten days is not so long a time to bide.
For her return she pledged her honor bright,
And I am sure that she will come all right;
You need not fear but she will find a way,
I'm quite prepared my life on that to lay." (255)

*******************

This Attempt Extinguished by Many Long Days

2010-11-17T17:18:00.000-08:00

I don't even know where to begin.

I could say a hundred things, but I don't know if I want to.

I've worked all day, and I'm very tired.

Still, I want to write. This semester has been busy beyond belief: full to the point of chronic sleep deprivation with events and obligations and thoughts. My GOODNESS, the never-ending THOUGHTS. Stress and wonderment have wracked my brain. For four months I have been in a state of perpetual exertion.

*Sigh* I've sat for at least twenty minutes trying to will myself to make something of this entry. Thoughts are flying through my head, and my exhausted state will have none of it. I can't find the energy even to synthesize my thoughts into arbitrary chains of words, let alone actual sentences.

Suffice it to say, I am tired (always), but I am very, very happy.

.

Visceral Pause

2010-10-23T16:49:00.001-07:00

Walking with one of my best friends on a leash at my side, marveling at Fall's colors, I suddenly stop dead and squeeze my eyes shut, wincing at beautiful love-soaked memories that haven't even been made yet. Emotional pleasure-pain like a flood through my gut. I open my eyes. We continue.

.

I Don't Presume to Complain, BUT.

2010-10-15T21:34:00.000-07:00

Long-distance goodnights suck.

.

In the House of Tom Bombadil

2010-05-29T21:44:00.000-07:00

"He told them tales of bees and flowers, the ways of trees, and the strange creatures of the Forest, about the evil things and the good things, things friendly and things unfriendly, cruel things and kind things, and secrets hidden under brambles.

"As they listened, they began to understand the lives of the Forest, apart from themselves, indeed to feel themselves as the strangers where all other things were at home. Moving constantly in and out of his talk was Old Man Willow, and Frodo learned now enough to content him, indeed more than enough, for it was not comfortable lore. Tom's words laid bare the hearts of trees and their thoughts, which were often dark and strange, and filled with a hatred of things that go free upon the earth, gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning: destroyers and usurpers. It was not called the Old Forest without reason, for it was indeed ancient, a survivor of vast forgotten woods; and in it there lived yet, aging no quicker than the hills, the fathers of trees, remembering times when they were lords. The countless years had filled them with pride and rooted wisdom, and with malice. But none were more dangerous than the Great Willow: his heart was rotten, but his strength was green; and he was cunning, and a master of winds, and his song and thought ran through the woods on both sides of the river. His grey thirsty spirit drew power out of the earth and spread like fine root-threads in the ground, and invisible twig-fingers in the air, till it had under its dominion nearly all the trees of the Forest from the Hedge to the Downs."

****

"A shadow seemed to pass by the window, and the hobbits glanced hastily through the panes. When they turned again, Goldberry stood in the door behind, framed in light. She held a candle, shielding its flame from the draught with her hand; and the light flowed through it, like sunlight through a white shell.

"'The rain has ended,' she said; 'and new waters are running downhill, under the stars. Let us now laugh and be glad!'

"'And let us have food and drink!' cried Tom. 'Long tales are thirsty. And long listening's hungry work, morning, noon, and evening!' With that he jumped out of his chair, and with a bound took a candle from the chimney-shelf and lit it in the flame that Goldberry held; then he danced about the table. Suddenly he hopped through the door and disappeared.

"Quickly he returned, bearing a large and laden tray. Then Tom and Goldberry set the table; and the hobbits sat half in wonder and half in laughter: so fair was the grace of Goldberry and so merry and odd the caperings of Tom. Yet in some fashion they seemed to weave a single dance, neither hindering the other, in and out of the room, and round about the table; and with great speed food and vessels and lights were set in order. The boards blazed with candles, white and yellow. Tom bowed to his guests. 'Supper is ready,' said Goldberry; and now the hobbits saw that she was clothed all in silver with a white girdle, and her shoes were like fishes' mail. But Tom was all in clean blue, blue as rain-washed forget-me-nots, and he had green stockings."

A Brief Account of a Wonderful Evening

2010-05-01T23:30:00.001-07:00

I drove Kelsey to the arena in Rosemont, not telling her where we were going or what we were doing. You are practically to O'Hare by the time you pull off into the convention center, so the whole car ride, Kelsey was getting more and more nervous and curious, thinking we were on our way to pick up some mystery guest from the airport. After a while I couldn't bear her agonal vibes bouncing all over the car and at least had to reassure her that we were NOT going to the airport for any reason! Beyond that, I wouldn't say another word.

We parked the car, and I was amazed that no huge banner or sign had given away the surprise yet. There were cowboy hats and shit-kickers everywhere, but Kelsey still couldn't quite guess at what we were doing. She thought it was a rodeo for a minute there, but a quick look around showed a total lack of horse trailers and other rodeo necessities.

We had already had our tickets taken and were fully inside the venue before there was any tell-tale sign: a GIANT Alan Jackson poster at the merchandise booth.

Surprise! =D

But it was a two-part surprise, and she didn't know who would be playing besides Alan Jackson until the show had nearly begun. I never manage to surprise people, but when I do, it's way too much fun. =)

The opening artist was Chris Young. He was young (as the name suggests), and his brand of song was a bit generic--country music, like wine, generally tastes best when aged. But his voice was beautiful and crisp, and, generic though he was, he was talented and somehow very likable.

Josh Turner was part two of the Country Awexomeness surprise, and he was fantastic. He was dealing with a sprained ankle, so he played the majority of his set seated on a stool. The first time I saw him (with George Strait in Fresno 2 1/2 years ago) his movements on stage seemed a bit forced, and I found it distracting from the quality of the music. His voice is phenomenal, but a natural showman he is not, so I found his obligatory seated position to be of no detriment to his performance. He played all the ones you would want to hear--One Woman Man, Firecracker, Long Black Train, Would You Go With Me, Everything is Fine, Your Man (which of course had every forty-something woman in the place just elated), etc; and he also played some of the songs from his latest album that I am still not really familiar with: Why Don't We Just Dance, Haywire, some really pretty new love song, some song about summer time, etc. :p

After intermission we were wowed by the wonderful Alan Jackson. As I have known from the likes of George Strait, Paul McCartney, and Garth brooks, it is an absolutely singular experience to stand in the same (very very large) room as one of your childhood legends and feel their voice resonate through you to the tune of songs that literally taught you what music is. He played a delightfully long set, including She's Gone Country, Livin' on Love, Neon Rainbow, Five O'Clock Somewhere, She's Got the Rhythm, Wanted, When Daddy Let Me Drive, Great Balls of Fire, Little Bitty, Don't Rock the Jukebox, Mercury, In Love With a Waitress (and I Don't Even Know Her Name), Country Boy, Where I Come From, Good Time, Small Town Southern Man, Where Were You, Remember When, and Chattahoochie. AH! Just recalling some of those song titles causes my heart to swell. His voice was piercing, and it was altogether beautiful. (Not to mention the classic Alan Jackson "aaaayeee!" =D )

That was that: simply put, a wonderful evening.

She is New Mexico. (Part the First)

2010-04-22T18:24:00.000-07:00

"How old were you when you moved to New Mexico?"
"What??"

I don't know if her old ears honestly didn't hear me, or if she simply couldn't believe I'd asked it.

"I was born in New Mexico."

She may as well have said, "I AM New Mexico."
I would have believed it.

Billie said she was born in Mount Villa, though no amount of Google searching has confirmed the existence of any such place within my homeland's borders. I'll have to ask her more about it the next time we speak; maybe I misunderstood her, maybe the name has long since changed, or maybe the place itself has long since vanished. A lot can change in 83 years, I suppose.

Her father, Lindsay Logan, was living in the humid depths of the southern U.S. when he contracted tuberculosis. He was instructed to move to the southwest, and supposedly the dry air would afford him 5 or 6 more months to live. This was before Billie came along, but family rumor is that the long move to New Mexico was made via covered wagon.

Seven years after those fateful "5 or 6 months" that were supposed to be the end of his days, Lindsay and his wife, Margaret, welcomed their 8th and last child into the world. (And in fact, Lindsay would go on living for 21 years more, in addition to those seven.) The women in the family, hoping for a girl, had picked out the name Ruby Jewel, but Lindsay, hoping for and sure it would be a boy, had already named "him" Billie Joe. When Margaret delivered a girl on June 26, 1927, compromise was struck and they christened the newest member of the family Billie Jewel Burke. The name would prove to be fitting: Lindsay may as well have gotten his boy.

"Were you close with your dad?"
"Oh, I was his shadow. Whatever he was doing, I was doing. If he was hunting, I was hunting..."

I asked how they made their living. Apparently the Cimarron Valley was quite a vegetable producer at one time, and, naturally, the family lived off the land. There were peas and potatoes, cabbages and carrots...and, of course, cattle. Lindsay also used to trap wildlife and sell the pelts. When his illness became serious again, Billie took over running the trap lines for him. She did it from the age of 13 until she got married.

"You must have ridden a lot of horses in your day."
"I lived on a horse until I was 18."

And yet, for all her tomboyish ways, Billie was still clearly daddy's little girl. She says that Lindsay "saw to it that I was spoiled rotten." I try to imagine what she could possibly mean by "spoiled rotten." I know well enough that there was no hint of extravagence or indulgence in anything material--such a large family living in wild western frontier during the great depression doesn't exactly allow for such things. I suppose by "spoiled rotten" she simply meant that no one came down very hard on her. She was never spanked (though, she says, "I'd rather he'd've spanked me than pointed that finger at me.") And yet, I can't imagine there ever having been a need to do so. How does a little girl find time to get into trouble when she is constantly on a horse, or hunting with her father, or helping him bring in a harvest? No, I should imagine the spoiling that Billie thinks was lavished upon her was simply an outpouring of affection--the kind that all little girls should receive from their fathers and mothers alike in a more perfect world.

"What was your mom like?"
"Oh, she was a precious little woman; so laid-back and patient."

Lindsay, on the other hand, was not a patient man, Billie said. "He would teach you something ONCE. After that, he would watch you do it and maybe offer one or two corrections. But by that third time, boy, you'd better have it perfect."

It's difficult for me to imagine nearly a century of knowing only one home. "People ask me if I get bored," she says. "No, I don't get bored!" She exclaims it as though the very notion is offensive. "I can sit here and look out at these mountains... my dad and I rode every last inch of these mountains."

The Bear, the Cross, and the Valley

2010-04-08T20:52:00.001-07:00

I love my dreams. Within their ambiguous boundaries I often find myself entrenched in all kinds of death-defying adventure, or part of a story that feels perfectly natural in slumber but will baffle my senses once I wake. I'm not one to read too much into my dreams, though once in a while I will have one that feels markedly different, that seems to come from a different place inside of me, and that I really can't ignore. With these dreams I try to avoid jumping to conclusions, but I do make a point of examining their content and considering whether or not they are meant to communicate something to me.

I had one such dream about a week and a half ago. I was in the backyard of a house that was implied to be my own, along with a small group of mostly unidentified friends. We had apparently been spending a nice Spring evening outside, when a huge brown bear found its way into the yard. Considering the negative affects bears can potentially have on one's overall well-being, everyone casually decided to find their way indoors, one by one. No one (including myself) was terribly panicked; the bear wasn't especially menacing, though we all recognized that it was a delicate situation that was better left un-trifled with. The bear watched each person as they made their way to the porch and into the house, and while he had a definite "don't-mess-with-me" look on his face, everyone made it inside without incident. But as I stood to take my leave, the bear turned and roared at me so ferociously that I was frozen with surprise and fear. (I very seldom feel true, terrifying fear in my dreams--even my dreams that revolve around someone trying to kill me usually only produce a sort of fun, nerve-wracking suspense like when you watch a creepy movie. I only have what I would consider nightmares a couple of times a year.)

I waited for a moment to see if anything would follow this sudden display of aggression, and when all remained quiet I turned once more to make my way into the house. Again, as soon as I tried to make my move, the bear ROARED at me with a pointed ferocity that immediately extinguished even the thought of taking another step.

I was baffled. The bear had let every other person pass by un-harassed, so why did it have a beef with me?

I stood there for an indeterminate amount of time. If I even THOUGHT of going into the house the bear seemed to know it immediately and would blast me with another tirade of noise. I remember wondering to myself if maybe he was all talk... like maybe if I just turned and walked away he would scream at me all he pleased but wouldn't actually harm me. I was tempted to try, but I just couldn't uproot my terrified feet. After a while, Kelsey poked her head out the back door to see why I still hadn't come inside. The bear couldn't have cared less about her, but still I was doomed to stay in place for an indeterminate amount of time.

It was really frustrating and baffling. I felt so utterly powerless and arbitrarily singled-out.

When I woke up and remembered the dream, it was only a matter of minutes before I instinctively felt that the irate bear was a symbol of how hard I have been on myself for the past year. My friends in the dream all walked into the house without comment, just as I try my best to let the people in my life simply be who they are without passing judgment or harboring any kind of hyper-criticism. I don't believe in resentment, I don't believe in bitterness, and I don't believe in revenge. I feel like it's vital to my joy and my relationships with those around me, including my relationship with God, to be as tirelessly patient and forgiving as possible. I'm hardly perfect, but I try. I really, really try.

However, for all the grace I try daily to extend to those around me, I have found that I am merciless with myself. I have introduced myself to new realms of misery within the past year, endlessly internally recounting the immense emotional pain I inflicted on Steph. I have never met with such an immovable object as this gut-wrenching guilt has proven to be. I CAN'T get over it, no matter what angle I attack it from. I think to myself that I will simply move on and stop paying so much heed to the voice of condemnation, but I can never go through with it. I feel powerless within myself. "Hence," my subconscious says, "the bear."

The dream didn't resolve, incidentally; it just sort of faded out at some ill-defined static moment.

I've known for a long time that I have been overly-zealous in my self-reprimand, but there is always some part of me that answers my every thought of self-forgiveness with painful accusations and reminders of the punishment I have felt I deserve. That dream created for me a very clear image of just what I have been doing to myself, how needless it is, and how locked in place it has kept me. It woke me up (no pun intended) to the fact that I need to kick this. I need to stop feeling as though this is an acceptable new component of my internal reality. This is not ok.

That weekend, Holly came into town for the Chicago Pillow Fight, which was A BLAST. We also had dinner with a now-pregnant Nola (aka Knowluh) and her husband and played a SUPER fun nerd-tastic board game called Settlers of Catan with Kelsey. The next day, Easter Sunday, we went to church.

My church meets in the "multi-purpose room" :p of a middle school, and the chairs are always arranged in a circular pattern, with the pastor teaching from the middle, constantly pacing and turning every which way to address everybody while he speaks. It sounds visually exhausting, but it actually works really well. The very center is usually occupied by a prettily decorated table that holds the elements of communion, which we take every Sunday. (Incidentally, I always used to think that taking communion every Sunday would make it overly-ritualized and of less meaning to me, but it turns out that I LOVE it, and it is incredibly personal and meaningful to me every time. So, that rules.)

On Easter, however, the table in the center of the room had been replaced by a large cross, laying flat and elevated maybe a foot off the ground, completely covered with and surrounded by beautiful fresh flowers. It was very pretty, and I liked the idea behind it, but I have to confess that inwardly I had a slightly unenthusiastic reaction. For some reason I have never liked Easter Sunday very much, which I'm sure makes me sound like the worst of heathens. It's not that I don't appreciate the meaning behind it--both the pagan and especially the Christian implications are very beautiful and meaningful to me--but in practice it always feels so... garish.

My entire childhood, Easter meant a forced shopping trip to buy a horrible floral dress and even worse "Easter hat" that I would be forced to wear to church so that I would look cute and respectable like all the other little girls. It was one of the few days of the year that I wasn't allowed to be a tomboy, and that annoyed me. It was also just flat-0ut uncomfortable, both physically and psychologically. As I got older my apathy for the holiday became more a matter of having heard the EXACT SAME SERMON a bajillion times, and feeling really out of place in my very charismatic church when I didn't outwardly exhibit the same amount of exuberant joy that everyone else was exhibiting at the thought of Christ's resurrection. (This is not meant as a knock against my former churches or ANY charismatic churches--it just doesn't tend to be how I naturally express my personal faith and feelings, that's all.) All that to say... as much as I love the meaning of Easter, I tend to associate it with being bored or feeling awkward, hence my lack of enthusiasm.

I was feeling spiritually and emotionally drained. In part because of my dream about the bear earlier that week, the whole Steph / Sean / me debacle was heavy on my mind and heart, and talking with Holly for the past two nights had brought my current spiritual struggles to the front of my thoughts. I probably made it through about two minutes of praise & worship before I was crying. I couldn't even sing for the entire rest of the service. I just stood there with my head down trying desperately to pull it together, even though a big part of me didn't WANT to pull it together. I wanted to fall apart and be a total mess and be comforted by the Best of Comforters, but I didn't especially want to do it right then, surrounded by a hundred people.

I managed to pull my sniveling self together and listen to the sermon, which was I was glad to find was not a 100% typical Easter sermon. The passage focused on was the 37th chapter of Ezekiel, in which Ezekiel has the vision of the valley of bones becoming animated. I absolutely love that passage, and it was a very timely thing for me to hear: God taking the dead, lifeless bones of slaughtered Israelites in a foreign land and breathing life back into them. And I love that the scripture doesn't just say that God brought the bones back to life, but that it specifically says that Ezekiel saw the bones pulled back together and connected with tendons, and then muscles, and then covered in skin. Then, when they were all re-assembled, God breathed life back into them. What a creepy and profound and all around kick-ass vision. And for me, sitting in a church and hearing about it a few thousand years later, Ezekiel's vision was remarkably comforting.

Interestingly, in a style that is unusual for my church, as the pastor, Jeff, talked about this passage he reached into a large paper bag and took from it handfuls of small wooden batons, which he began to scatter all over the floor. Cheesy though it was, the clattering of the wood hitting the floor actually was quite reminiscent of clattering bones, and when the sermon was over they proved to serve an additional symbolic purpose.

As we prepared to take communion, Jeff invited everyone who felt so inclined to first take one of the "bones" from the floor and leave it at the flower-laden cross in a symbolic gesture. I think rituals, rites, and symbolic actions have always been very important to the average human psyche, and they have proven to be very weighty in my own life. I knew I wanted to participate. I wanted to draw a finish line in the dirt and step over it and say, "Enough." The circular pattern of the seating and the non-standardized format in which we receive communion removed any sense of awkwardness from the situation. There was no feeling of expectation or pressure to participate--all was very haphazard and thus felt all the more friendly.

The scattered batons were of several different sizes, and Jeff pointed out, "I don't know what the dry bones in your life are. Maybe you'll pick a small one, or maybe you'll pick the biggest one you can find..." When he said that, I knew I wanted a big one. I also knew I was going to cry again. Damn it.

Leaving my folding metal chair, I scanned the make-shift-aisle-turned-imaginary-boneyard for the most appropriate representation of my grief that I could find. I chose a baton that was thick and conspicuous and approached the flower-draped cross. I knelt down to spend a moment making my symbolic surrender of burdens, and, as was really inevitable at that point, I completely fell apart.

Head down, silently bawling, tears falling all over my jeans, I told God that I didn't want all this emotional baggage anymore; I didn't want all this guilt and self-berating; I didn't want all this unbearable pain of having so many most-beloved things in my life completely dissolve because of my own humanity; I couldn't have it anymore, for it had been systematically destroying me for over a year. I told him things that I had told him before, only this time, the tear-soaked pleas carried with them the resolve of faith and courage and finality. I decided right then that once I stopped crying I would stand up, take my place in the line for communion, and walk away from that cross with my figurative dry bones laying beside it. I was giving this ugly burden to God, whatever that is supposed to mean (I understand and yet I don't), and I'll be damned if I'm ever going to pick it back up again.

I finally let some things die that Easter Sunday, and it has made room in my heart for all kinds of necessary and beautiful resurrections.

Two nights later I had another dream that got my attention.

I was in Costa Rica (as I will be in August!), and it was the most insanely beautiful place EVER--like, so beautiful that I'm pretty sure no place like that actually exists on the earth in its current state. I had hiked to the top of a wooded mountain with an undetermined amount of unidentified friends. Standing on the top of the glorious mountain, we stopped to look down over the land that lay hundreds of feet below us. It was a valley so bursting with vegetation and life and colors that I tire at the mere thought of trying to describe it (so I won't. Haha). As I stood there soaking in the peace and glory of the unbelievable world around us, I turned to my hiking companion (Kelsey and any others had, for the time being, separated from us), and it was Steph. We made small talk about the valley below, and there was a sudden and tremendous melting-away of awkwardness and hard feelings that gave way to excited conversation and relieved, joyful laughter. We hugged. Good lord, we had missed each other. (Stop vomiting on my blog--I'm not finished with this story!) Realizing how good and right everything suddenly was, I couldn't wait to continue our hike. I couldn't wait to spend time with her and be free to love her again.

And that was it.

I realize that the only way it could possibly be ANY gayer is if we had then taken a magical ride on a rainbow-maned unicorn, but I don't care, dammit! The feeling I was left with upon waking was one of having been immensely comforted. I was bluntly and brilliantly reminded that I believe there is a life after this one, and that in that life, everything that has ever not been ok is going to be more profoundly and wonderfully ok than we could ever have hoped for. As cheesy and Sunday-school-cute as it may sound, my trust in the Lord and the life that he promises to give beyond this one have finally wrought within my heart a deep peace concerning the events of the past year.

Irreparable damage has been done--life has happened to us one and all--but I for one am ready to come back to life with the glorious Spring outside. My friend Josh likes to talk about how important it is for each of us to realize how inherently dangerous we are to those around us, and I think that he is right. And, after having stumbled into finding out just how destructive and destructible I can be, I am only too happy to resume my courage and my zeal and move forward in love, hopefully stronger and more full of grace than ever for the stumbling, raucous, rejoicing humanity around me. I'm ready to come back to life.

Death on a Spring day

2010-04-06T18:18:00.000-07:00

I'd felt kind of down today ever since maybe noon, and I couldn't peg why. I blamed it on everything I could think of, from the barometric pressure, to a need for more sleep, to a need to drink more water. I'm sure none of those things helped, but I felt badly in a really vague way that I couldn't put my finger on.

It's always weird to find out that someone you know has died. It turns out that it's even weirder when you find out by reading someone's facebook status. One thing I find really interesting about death is that it forces an introspection that revolves around memories of what that person looked like, how they spoke, what they said, what exactly they sewed into your life... when reminded to look, I always find that the life and death that surround me affect me far more deeply than I typically realize on a conscious level. It's odd how much we muffle our connectedness to one another (as a rule, that is, and in the context of current Western society).

Mrs. Vaughan used to sit with one leg tucked completely under her and the other leg crossed over it. I'd never seen anyone else do that, though I found it so peculiar looking that I tried it myself and found it to be quite comfortable. Now I'm the only person I know who sits that way.

I remember sitting in her darkened classroom during some kind of off-hours (after school? lunch?) with Jessie and Kelsey, reading all the trivia cards from some game Mrs. Vaughan had on the shelf. I remember asking poor, awkward Mr. Fritz, "What's a eunuch?"

I remember how she let Kelsey bring her hedgehog to class and run around in its little plastic ball while we did our work.

She was so motherly, yet so sisterly; so young and pretty, and you just wanted her to be your best friend.

She would always listen to our 8th grade drama so good-naturedly. We could tell that she honestly cared, and when she sometimes laughed or shook her head at our pre-teen follies, we never felt invalidated. She had a lightness and a joy in her that brought perspective into even the silliest of 12-year-old heads.

She was always rooting for David and I to get together, whatever "getting together" means when you're 13. (Similarly, I remember telling her when I broke up with Neal, and how awful I felt about the whole thing.) I remember talking to her about David, sometimes giggling and sometimes pining my little 8th grade heart away, and feeling like she understood every word of it.

I remember us telling her that Jared Bratcher had a crush on her, and how monumentally disturbed she was by that. Hahaha. That was a good moment.

I don't remember who brought up the implied scandal of "the green M&M," but I remember her telling some student that she would "explain it after class."

For some reason, I always really really wanted her and Mr. Jewett to get together. I adored both of them. On any given day, between classes, you could see the two of them emerging from their neighboring classrooms to kid around with one another to the tune of slamming locker doors and scores of mid-schoolers shuffling through the halls. They always had some joke to play on one another, even when class was in session sometimes. Those two were a riot.

And with all the joy she brought into the too-often dreary world of public education, she facilitated a tremendous amount of learning. I really engaged in that class, because I felt not only intellectually encouraged, but emotionally connected and secure. I remember reading Flowers For Algernon, and, with her tireless guidance, really experiencing the content and principles of the literature in a way I had not previously done. I felt like we were reading something very grown-up and smart.

She left a huge impression on me in that year that I spent with her. She is one of very few women I have met in my life that I would label as having been a positive role model. I never like to use the term "role model" because it has become so over-used and trite; but truly, she imbued me with countless examples of purposeful beauty, intelligent joy, and sharpened intellect that have stuck with me in an important way.

What more can I say? She was vibrant and kind, and I guess who am I to assert that she is gone too soon?

So it goes.

The Return of Spring

2010-03-21T12:39:00.000-07:00

I don't know how to say what it is I'm feeling right now, though the feeling is a good one--peaceful and effortless, and born of a year of formerly unparalleled pain and confusion. Perhaps "relief" is the word I"m looking for. I feel a quiet, easy relief; a return of my eye to the horizon; a resurgence of personal ambition, daring, and independence.

I feel weathered and proven sturdy.

Happy Equinox. =)

I feel I've been spending my days in the orchard

2010-03-15T20:06:00.000-07:00

"Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness.
Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could."

-Louise Erdrich

2010 Olympics: closing time

2010-02-28T18:39:00.000-08:00

I love the Olympics.

This is the first time I've ever paid this much attention to the Winter Games (aside from the figure skating, which I used to love watching as a kid), and, holy cow, they are amazing. Why they are ever under-rated by anyone for a moment is beyond me. The degree of skill, strength, and talent that humans are capable of achieving is truly stunning.

Here, in random order, are my personal top 10 highlights from the 2010 Winter Olympics. =)

1. I've been totally floored by more than one event that I had previously never even heard of. Skeleton comes to mind, as do the Nordic Combined and the Giant Slalum. WOW. I mean, seriously... wow.

2. The look of satisfaction and disbelief on the athletes' faces as they realize that they have finally achieved (or, in some cases, achieved again) what they have worked so hard for every single day of their lives probably since they were little kids--for right now, they are the best IN THE WORLD at what they do. That's got to be pretty surreal.

3. Watching Joannie Rochette's emotional performances, just days after her mother's unexpected and premature death. I can't imagine how hard it must have been to hold it together long enough to skate--she dissolved in tears pretty much immediately after every routine. I'm glad she earned a medal; it's heartbreaking that her mom wasn't there to see it happen.

4. Hearing Scott Hamilton announce for the figure skating. I love him!

5. Watching Shaun White catch RIDICULOUS air on the Half Pipe, bust out his unjustifiably awesome new trick, and subsequently win the gold medal.

6. Watching all 6'2" of Evan Lysacek (who is, btw, from Naperville--represent!) tear up the ice. He is freaking incredible, and his extra long legs make him extra fun to watch. I am SO stoked that he took the gold. Plashenko is fantastic, too, but his choreography and overall skate just did not compare to Lysacek, if you ask me.

7. Watching Kim Yu-Na score a million freaking points on her free skate. She was clearly overjoyed, and she so totally earned it.

8. Mao Asada! Oh my GOSH! I was pulling for her to win the gold, honestly, even over Kim Yu-Na. I'm glad she got the silver, though, and I heartily hope to see her skate again in 2014. She is unbelievable.

9. Finding out that speed skaters reach speeds of nearly 40 mph...on ice skates. WTF. That is crazy. How do their ankles not just snap?

10. Mirai Nagasu, who took 4th place, even though she is only 16 and this is her first Olympics. She is a beautiful skater, and she is going to kick UNREAL amounts of ass four years from now. I'm so excited to see her the next time around!

Yaaaaay.

And, actually, I am going to make a #11: watching Lysacek's interview, in which the interviewer repeatedly tried to get a reaction from Lysacek regarding Plashenko's criticisms. Lysacek handled himself with an impressive off-the-cuff graciousness and had nothing but positive remarks to make, even when posed with opposition. He handled himself with real class.

I want that guy to move back to Naperville and be my friend--my tall, good-looking, figure-skating friend. Hahaha. The end.

Annnnnd we're done here.

2010-02-20T10:59:00.000-08:00

Like any uncharted territory, I must seem greatly intriguing...
But this is not allowed. You're uninvited--an unfortunate slight.

Ever since my date with Bryan and subsequent telling him to back off, we have remained acquaintances, mostly through Facebook, and mostly meaning he clicks that he "likes" things on my profile or leaves the occasional stray comment implying that I'm pretty or smart or awesome or something. It's flattering and harmless enough. I'm surprised that he still insisted on maintaining that dynamic after I made it clear how I felt about him, but like, whatever man. Other than those stray compliments, he maintained a pretty reasonable distance that was appropriate to the pretty shallow level of acquaintanceship that we have at this point.

On the flip side of that, any of the few times we had actually chatted on Facebook he always had to be like, "Oh, I hope I'm not pestering you" or like "Oh you don't have to talk to me if you're busy" or blah blah blah. He just created this really annoying dynamic of like, always making his presence known but then being really groveling and overly apologetic. I felt like I always had to be reassuring him that he wasn't making me uncomfortable or coming on too strong, and it was rapidly pushing me to the point of just feeling like, "holy crap, this is way more trouble than it's worth." It was just getting really old because it was a total non-issue, and yet he kept making it feel otherwise.

So the other night he started talking to me on Facebook, complete with the standard "Oh, blah blah blah I hope I'm not bothering you," and in hopes of making him chill the crap out once and for all, I told him not to worry about it, that he's never made me uncomfortable, etc. Apparently he took my word for it because for the next couple of days I saw twice as many comments around facebook--and may I pause to say that it's really retarded how this is all totally dependent on Facebook. Like, reality check, Bryan--that is the ONLY way that we communicate! We live like 45 minutes away from each other, and it's not like we already have some established friendship on which this can ride. We've been in one another's presence exactly twice in our lives. Seriously.... a non-issue being made to feel very much otherwise.

*sigh*

Yesterday morning we exchanged a couple of comments on Facebook, and then like five minutes later I got a text message from him that said, "Just thought I would send you a big smile, virtual hug and a friendly wave hello. Just because." Ugh. He tries SO HARD to play the "friendly, casual affection" card and yet every single thing he ever says to me is blatantly laced with romantic interest. It comes across as kind of pathetic, to be brutally honest.

In the past when he has said something that lame I always felt obligated to respond because I was afraid that if I didn't say anything he would start to feel really stupid for putting himself out there like that. As I read that text message and rolled my eyes, however, I decided that I am done cushioning his unwelcome falls, and if he wants to say stupid things to me and fall flat, that is his problem. I ignored his text.

Later that night, once again on Facebook, I joined an event called "Hook up with a New Mexican Week." It was just something silly that I saw on Dean's page that cracked me up for some reason, so I clicked that I was attending. Within 10 minutes, Bryan had clicked that he "liked" it--no big surprise, and fair enough, I guess, if I'm going to post things like that on my page. But then he sent me a private message that said, "Since it is hook up with a New Mexican week, you should come over and I will cook you dinner sometime this week. Just sayin'"

Oh HELL no. You did NOT just say that to me. I realize that there are varying interpretations of the phrase "hook up," but come on, any speaker of American English under age 40 is capable of realizing how that might be taken. Any one of my friends could have made a much more overtly sexual joke about it to me and I would totally have not cared. But we're not friends. We barely know each other, and... I just think it should be really obvious why I would not be ok with that. Furthermore, even if he meant no such thing, he is still essentially asking me on a date, which I have already established is something I am no longer agreeable to. WTF, Bryan. I was pretty ticked. It's not really such a big deal in and of itself; it was just the straw the broke the camel's back, you know? I ranted about it to Kelsey and Josh but chose to ignore the message completely for the time being. I watched the Olympics and went to bed.

When I woke up this morning, I had been conscious for hardly 5 minutes when I remembered that message and was mad again. I knew it would bug me too much to ignore completely so I fired up my computer and replied, "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that the most common usage and interpretation of the phrase "hook up" somehow did not occur to you. And if you did realize what that is most commonly taken to mean, then that was an incredibly asinine, tacky thing to say to me."

His response, of course, was: "Thanks for the benefit of doubt, as sex is the last thing that I had intended to mean. I did not even mean it in a date way, although that would be closer to the definition that I did intend. I meant it in a completely innocent and friendly way, I apologize that it may have came across as anything else, while I can be a skeevy pervert, I am not toward people I consider to be a friend.
Anyway, no harm intended and hopefully I did not upset you. Or if I did, it was not for very long."

He then created the following status update: "Not a good way to start out the morning, wake up later than I wanted to, it is a very grey day, had to mix two tea's together, fb fought me bitterly just to load and then I find myself in a dire misunderstanding of language. All of this within the first 15 minutes of the day and I used to like saturdays. Maybe it will get better."

Yeah, congratulations, we're done here.

It's a shame, too, because he is a fairly interesting person that I was ready to try and be friends with. But HOLY COW, tone your shit down a little, because now I don't even want to be friends with you in any capacity.

He has A LOT of other issues, too, and I frankly find it incredibly irresponsible and a billboard indicator of his immaturity that he tried to ignite a romantic relationship with a girl he doesn't even know when his life is a total shambles right now. And I don't expect anyone to be perfect or NOT have issues, but seriously? You're going to try and sweep me off my feet when you are out of work, living in your parents' basement, trying to kick a serious alcoholism problem, finishing up with mandatory DUI counseling, desperately lonely, and bitter? SCORE, how am I not all over that?!

I'm sorry if I am coming across as mean-spirited, because that is one thing I never want to be. And I honestly don't feel the least judgmental of the problems he is going through--I DO feel judgmental over the fact that he has those problems and tried to bring another person into them. Not cool, dude.

He seriously pushed me over my limit after I drew a very clear line in the sand, and this is the result. I just needed to vent.

Readying for Adventure

2010-02-11T20:16:00.000-08:00

I love all this planning and thinking and figuring out and researching and reading a guide book cover to cover and taking notes and looking up maps and poring endlessly over gear--it makes me feel like myself. It makes me feel happy.

Catching up: January recap

2010-02-06T23:36:00.000-08:00

I hate when I feel like I'm "behind" in my writing--it makes me almost avoidant. I even do that with strictly private journals... my personality is such a pain in the ass. Haha. God bless whoever thinks they want to marry me. =)

So, January happened, huh? What a fantastic month. Not that anything amazing happened, but nothing BAD happened (!), and the relief and joy that that brings me can not be overstated. Something bad or hurtful or exhausting happened in my life at a rate of no less than every two weeks throughout the entirety of 2009, and the death of that phenomenon with the death of the year has proved itself pure delight.

So, what all have I done since the new year? Last weekend was the first roller derby bout of the season, and HOLY CRAP that was fun. Kelsey and I volunteered to help tear down the floor afterward, which was also fun. (Mindless physical labor is so incredibly satisfying sometimes.) We would have gone to the afterparty, but I was bunny-sitting for a client in Wheaton, so we were obligated to leave at a decent hour. Next time, though... =)

That's another thing I did--I bunny-sat for a client who went out of town, and I got paid for it, so yay! extra money.

About a month ago I went cross-country skiing with Kim (a.k.a Dr. Labak, who no longer works at the clinic, if you didn't catch that) which was awesome. After skiing we went out for Mediterranean food and then sat in her living room and lost ourselves in conversation for 5 hours. It was wonderful.

The weekend after that there was a party at Kim's house, which I was invited to and which was a nice time. I met a guy named Bryan there who it turns out was quite taken with me, and.... well, long story short, I went on a date with him--which, by the way, was my first date ever.
We had a nice time, but MAN, going on a date with someone that you've known for less than a week is every bit as terrible as I had always imagined it would be. And yes, I say that even after having had a really nice time with him. Only like three days later, however, I had to tell him he needed to back off a little--he was just coming on way too strong, contacting me in one way or another like every day. It was REALLY flattering that he was so into me (Lord knows I'm not used to that) but it was also a lot of pressure, and I am absolutely not the least bit interested in him. He took it well, though, to his credit. In his reply he even said, "I have never been attracted to the conventional thinking of society's view of what makes a woman attractive and when I met you, I was taken aback. Please understand that I not only found you physically attractive, but mentally as well, if not more so." =\

Love and attraction are tricky things, aren't they?

I also did a lot of research about going back to school, and I'm planning to start taking classes again (*gulp*) full time this Fall. Northern IL University in Dekalb has an AMAZING history program, and if I've calculated things correctly, I am hoping I can achieve my teaching certification in about 3 years. As much as I love where I work right now, I have really got to get out of veterinary medicine.

What else....

OH. Kelsey and I have started planning a trip to Costa Rica for this year. Right now we're thinking of going in August. It's presently cheaper to fly to Costa Rica from Chicago than it is to fly to California from Chicago. Yeah. Needless to say, I've thrown myself into research over the past few days, and oh my goodness, I can not wait for this trip. I can't wait to wake up on the floor of some little wooden hut in the middle of the jungle to the sound of toucans and howler monkeys while I curse the wretched existence of every last mosquito in the world.

A few months ago, when I had absolutely no inkling that I would be within a thousand miles of Costa Rica within the next ten years, I stumbled across this online and saved the link, thinking, "Man, someday...." I can not stinkin' WAIT to go there! You can even spend the night there and then eat breakfast with the baby sloths. Haha. So amazing! I have had a real thing for all creatures Xenarthran for quite some time now, so this is just the coolest thing ever to me. There are also several active volcanoes there, and a decent chance of seeing a pyroclastic event in progress, which I have always had an intense and oddly profound obsession with.
We will also definitely be zip-lining through Monteverde and rafting on the Rio Pacuare, which is generally considered one of the top five best rafting rivers in the world.

There needs to be an opposite of "FML"... I think it would be an appropriate way to end this post. =)

Have I really not been writing this stuff down?

2010-01-24T20:58:00.001-08:00

It's really weird that I haven't written a thing since the new year began, because I have done plenty of thinking and have actually had some interesting things happen lately. The sense of a new, fresh season is still happily at rest in my heart, and my mind has been at ease in a way I haven't known since sometime last March.

Anyway, I have a good half a dozen things or so I could (and would like to) write about, but I have got to be off to bed at the moment. I guess I just wanted to notify blogger.com that I'm not dead.

2009 in facebook status

2009-12-31T19:49:00.000-08:00

JANUARY

's hair is like a sexy upside-down bowl of hair. 05 January

WANTS TO DANCE! 09 January

printed and completed the registration sheet for Ballet class at Vanderbilt U. Now...will she turn it in? 10 January

is praying for her aunt's health and would appreciate anyone else who feels so inclined to do the same. 13 January

feels like she's 14...but, somehow, in a GOOD way. 16 January

posted some pictures of her dog. You should humor her by going to look at them. 21 January

is like, "Dude, shutup already." And like a million other things. 25 January

has a house full of happy animals. 26 January

has still got a lot of leavin' left to do--the Lord made her hard to handle. 28 January

would really like to see her old friends, Aztec-style. 30 January

's dog was playing with a giant dead rat in the backyard. In unrelated news, Stacey let Kelsey staple her arm at work. 31 January

FEBRUARY

went to SPACE CAMP! 01 February

should clarify that she went to the Space Camp MUSEUM... Remember when going to space camp was the prize on Nickelodeon game shows? That was sweet. 01 February

is sick just like seriously EVERYONE else. What is the deal? 04 February

is more than she lets on. 05 February

's plan is fool-proof! She just needs to find a state in which both gay and adulterous marriages are honored. 07 February

's house is currently a hive of illness and poor morale (not to be confused with a wretched hive of scum and villainy). 09 February

feels like Will Forte in the "Hate the Referee" contest. 10 February

loves the gift of hindsight, and the freedom of forward motion. 13 February

wants to meet some EXUBERANCE. 20 February

wishes she had a house fiull of people eating take-out Chinese food--Portola Ave. style. 20 February

definitely met Chris Kirkpatrick (formerly of N Sync) at the bar of the Hard Rock Cafe. Truly a Nashville moment. :p 22 February

is feisty this evening. 22 February

is really weirded out that everyone's so weirded out by Riverdance. 26 February

wonders what Freud would have to say about her new Camelbak water bottle... 28 February

MARCH

plays real life dog soccer. 02 March

misses her Monterey men. 03 March

posted some new pictures of her favorite poodle. ...you know, for all three of you who care. =) 09 March

thinks "one of the most diverse neighborhoods in the U.S." sounds pretty dang tempting...bring it on, Albany Park! 11 March

has been productive with the first half of this day. 13 March

is exceedingly sad that there are actually people out there that like and agree with Bill O Reilly. 13 March

loves rodeos. 15 March

is not the droids you're looking for. 15 March

is exhausted on so many levels. 31 March

April

doesn't know how to recover.

almost forgot that she kicks ass.

misses having friends and a church and a LIFE. Looking forward to that fresh start in Chicago.

"If I had to, I could clean out my desk in five seconds and nobody would ever know I had ever been here. ...And I'd forget too."

is very much her father's daughter: she LOVES having a project.

does not support the lynching of giant anteaters.

has horseback riding and ballet on the agenda for today. Most satisfactory.

had a dream that she was some kind of assistant to Barack Obama, and that she lived in his house, but it wasn't the White House, and Kelsey was also an assistant and Barack liked her better.

is exceedingly pleased that President Obama actually talks to other world leaders. I forgot how some presidents do that.

is not trying to be a nuissance, she just thinks we can do better than this.

feels alone on so many levels.

is just doing what she's gonna do.

is freaking exhausted due to her inability to sleep in anymore, no matter what time she goes to bed. She's also out a room mate for two weeks, but after that she'll be in California, then a new life in the Grove!

is really digging Please Please Me. It's been a long time.

wishes she had a single-serve-size bottle of Prosecco.

May

is getting antsy for another adventure. Good thing California and Chicago are just around the corner!

thinks it might be high time she nerd it up proper and engage in Ren Faire.

is sitting around eating her feelings.

's right arm is being thoroughly groomed by a certain white kitty.

is watching the video from the 2003 choir trip to Anaheim.

is rather disappointed.

COMPLETELY forgot that the song "The Inner Light" exists, and she'd nearly forgotten about "Rain" as well.

thinks that people are way too freakin complicated. Too bad she loves them anyway, mumble grumble.

Orli makes exceptionally terrible decisions for a cat.

's body is jacked from all this shifting barometric pressure. Screw you, tornados!

never has to work with Dr. Watts again.

dreams of a day when her great great grandson will bring sexy back.

is apparently going to have to seal everything she owns in titanium bins so that Rugby can not EAT THEM!

thinks that life is one kick-ass adventure.

keeps rollin' like an old banjo; free and easy down the road she goes...

is headed West and hopes she'll bring her stupid heart back with her this time.

is remembering that people who want to engage meaningfully with others actually DO exist. She is also remembering that she really does love dogs. Thank you, California.

is KAYAKING INTO DANGER.

dug that aftershock! Is it wrong to wish for more?

Show me that I'm everywhere, and get me home for tea.

Show me that I'm everywhere, and get me home for tea.

laughs in this house, and it makes her feel rested.

was just going to suggest that maybe everybody should cool out maybe.

is back in humid green Tennessee, exhausted but reset, happy to have her animals back. And JEAN VALJEAN LIVES! He is the most amazing superfish ever. <3

If you're going through hell, keep on going. Don't slow down--if you're scared don't show it--you might get out before the devil even knows you're there.

IS PEACIN' THE HELL OUTTA HERE! So long, Tennessee.

June

now knows exactly how much damage a U-Haul will sustain and how high a deer will fly when the two become acquainted at 70 mph.

lives in Illinois.

is glad Kelsey didn't die.

is keeping her head above water.

is watching All Dogs Go to Heaven. What the heck is wrong with this movie, and why did I watch it over and over again as a child?? (We found a pantload of awesome movies for super cheap at Salvation Army!)

has a guest room outside Chicago anxiously waiting to fulfill its purpose. Any takers?

wishes that some aspects of her life could operate without rules.

had a cookie for breakfast. Deal with it.

loves people.

had church with the Russians again today.

and all her dearest loves have rather challenging existences at present.

is pretty worthless today.

can't believe she missed free Ellen tickets. Why doesn't Chicago notify me of these things??

is all wrapped in a blanket listening to the rain and John Denver.

is rolling with the punches.

picked her wedgie in Sam's Club.

is having a house full of dogs and good people tomorrow!

has 10 dogs in her backyard.

can not escape the humidity.

should be seen an not heard.

is pretty sure Loudon Wainwright knew what he was talking about.

wishes she was in New Mexico today.

is sitting around spamming Facebook with stupid quizzes and finding stupid songs to relate to. (Jason Mraz, I love you so much right now!)

pretty much just wants to puke all the time.

ran for a solid 1/2 mile without slowing down! That's the first time that has happened EVER!

spent the entire night in good conversation.

hopes she doesn't get E. Coli from this righteous brownie batter she's eating.

has got a fool-hearted memory.

only took one short walking break during tonight's mile jog.

would like to know how she's supposed to sleep when it's 80 degrees and 80% humidity. You're killin' me, Illinois!

finally caved in and slept with her ceiling fan on, even though its only setting seems to be "airplane propeller." It turns out I can sleep better in wind than in heat!

had a dream that she accidentally drove her car into a rather large body of water. Apparently VWs float (or at least they do in dreams), so she and Kesley & Oakley (who later turned into Steph) just floated there spinning in the water until the authorities came

hopes more fun dreams are in store for tonight.

is interviewing for a job she doesn't want.

made an awesome timeline of her entire life so far and recommends that everyone do the same! Include a few things that haven't happened yet, so that the present isn't the last thing on the line. =)

's dogs are the entertainment for the evening.

is way, WAY overdue for an out-of-country trip.

wins: penalty of death!

July

saw aardvarks!

loves the new tortoise!

and Trillian did that mile in 9 minutes. =)

's dog passed out in the middle of the floor with a toy in her mouth. What a life.

found herself, and didn't even know she'd been lost!

just wants to run through the world with her bow and kick evil's ass!

is a glutton for adventure.

fortunately knows how to counter it: the man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink, and the man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking.

is the latest victim of Dr. Eisenburg's plague. Orli is keeping quite a vigilance.

is SO going out of the country in '09!

has about 50 potential status updates in mind.... she'll settle with "Chicago is one bitchin' city."

has a cat in each window sill and a room surrounded by trees.

almost wishes she smoked so she'd have an excuse to own a giant glass 70's ashtray. I love those things.

for the first time in her life, is NOT overthinking. Take THAT, my personality!

is thoroughly confused, but... oh well! =)

--no wait, I can't be confused if I'm not overthinking! YESIWIN!

has a SWEET life.

is mowing the lawn, listening to Led Zep, and really has to laugh at how absurdly awkward 2009 has been so far.

can't wait to breathe southwestern air and tumble down the Animas with some of the best people she's ever known.

"Life is like an ice cream cone. You gotta eat it when you get it. You gotta eat it fast because if you don't it's gonna melt all over your hand and down your arm. You wanna go through life licking your arm? I know I don't. So live, live, LIVE! And never

sees the sunrise in the dark skies, warmth in fiery trials.

is Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club man; I hope I will enjoy my show.

guesses it must be National Nobody Answer Your Phone Day.

thinks that Carly is pretty much the best thing anyone's come up with so far.

"sing me something brave from your mouth, and I'll bring you pearls of water on my hips--and the love in my lips...all the love from my lips"

just found out that Relient K's new album comes out on her birthday! That's a damn fine present, says I!

likes The Weird Al Show Theme Song an awful lot more than she feels she should.

had yet another crazy dream about tornadoes.

doesn't understand why Trillian is terrified of the vacuum cleaner but thinks the lawn mower is HILARIOUS.

is ready for 20 hours in the car with 3 dogs and 1 best friend.

is excited that she was able to convince Trillian to get into the pool voluntarily!

's page just got hacked by Kelsey. Too bad, Stace. You should never trust Scandi trash, you know.

was only in New Mexico for 15 hours before going to a rodeo. That's how life should be, man.

is disappearing into the high desert for the next 36 hours.

needs to get over to the post office.

is going to get some sun and simultaneously trick her dog into getting clean via the swimming pool. I love killing two birds with one stone.

is headed for the train station.

is all giggly and excited over the official facebook relationship status of two certain friends...

hopes it keeps getting hotter today... the Animas is calling her name.

has lots of happy people and happy animals around tonight.

August

is tired and overstimulated and is pretty sure she likes it.

loves that Illinois smells like a freakin' rainforest!

thinks she is finally done adding to this year's NM album. Enjoy.

thinks that life is f-ing scary... and she likes it.

just realized an inordinate amount of things about her life based on her penchant for certain dog breeds. SCORE.

is thoroughly enjoying some horrible '70s pop.

is being sooooo lazy on this very very humid day.

: POUNDING AT YOUR HEART WITH THE FIST OF GOD!

loves these northern accents. They're so cute!

is going to go visit her girlfriend at the zoo.

saw an aardvark do a perfect somersault just inches away!

is thinking that a nice long run sounds like a great idea for this afternoon.

is BEAT. 6 or 7 miles in that 90 degree weather and no shade half the time is a killer. Even Trillian was dragging by the end!

is still paying for yesterday's excursion.

This might just be the heat exhaustion hangover talking, but I think I love this town.

's life has been pretty much ruined by the Field Museum.

is no longer unemployed. Office marathon celebration: commence!

is amazed at how difficult it is find women's underwear that isn't a joke!

loves a needle & thread.

loves Orli. <3

thanks Kelsey for bringing Prosecco into her life and thanks Phyllis for bringing it into Kelsey's. She also thanks Kenneth Grahame for writing The Wind in the Willows.

loves it when Oakley barks in a fit of excitement and then freezes because he scares himself.

is very under-stimulated.

is extremely overdue for an adventure.

saw a white guy and a black guy on tv and immediately concluded (very incorrectly) that it was Ryan Seacrest and Wayne Brady. wtf?

--joy was just a thing that I was raised on, and love was just a way to live and die.

wishes her neighbors weren't ALWAYS WATCHING.

feels that life is a fantastic brute, who offers beauty most thrilling but demands trials most fiery.

is watching a pack of teenagers at Starbucks. They're loud and grating, but man are they interesting. It's like watching National Geographic.

loves how amazing Scrubs can be.

calls the wind Mariah...

wants to lay in her bed and listen to arias.

is all angsty.

is catching bullets with her teeth; it's hard to do, but they're so sweet.

can't explain herself; it would sound much better from someone else. You chose me, and you were wrong, and that's why I write such good songs.

adores Tommy Rall.

September

loves that she gets a glimpse of the Sears Tower every time she drives home from work or church.

had her hands inside a dog's abdomen not 60 minutes ago. Good day.

agrees with Kelsey that Matt Thiessen looks like Sam and Frodo's love child.

knows it's a good night when the songs from Seven Brides For Seven Brothers seem REALLY MEANINGFUL.

thinks that life is really weird but really neat.

saw Orli get FIERCE today!

was so very thrilled to see Kristen yesterday. <3

accidentally stayed up too late, and now she has to eat second supper.

got a new hat. =)

is listening to Kristen's latest recording, and HOT DAMN it's fantastic.

has a serious case of geographical and academic wanderlust.

has so much pent-up inspiration right now, and nowhere to direct it. MY HEAD ASPLODE.

could so easily do something very rash tonight.

: Because the world is round, it turns me on.

Celtic festival = yes very.

doesn't believe in the moon. It's totally just the back of the sun.

reads during her lunch breaks.

just discovered firsthand that the library's wifi might be accessed from the park.

wishes she would suddenly and unexpectedly have the afternoon off so she could go to the local college and bombard some poor, unsuspecting counselor with questions. I really need to get out of the medical scene and get back where I belong: academia.

"Even though I know, I don't want to know. Yeah, I guess I know; I just hate how it sounds. If I traded it all, if I gave it all away for one thing...wouldn't that be something?"

's facebook is being all weird.

's lunch / Facebook / reading break must always come to an end. But I'm all too happy to have a job!

loves this Autumnal Equinox--humid, dark and gloomy!

had the best Fall Equinox she's had in quite some time.

misses being called by her various nicknames. =)

feels like perhaps the universe is trying to teach her to get the H over the fact that sometimes PEOPLE WILL BE DISPLEASED WITH YOU, or maybe even dislike you, and that sometimes you won't deserve it and--worse yet-- sometimes you absolutely will, but either way.... seriously, you'd better learn to like it, because you don't have a choice.

feels all weird... I'm watching Seinfeld, and it seems dated. Am I actually old enough for things from my own past to seem dated?! What next? Friends?!

has long since foregone the smoothest course. "Why do all my dreams extend just around the riverbend?"

The new girl on SNL definitely just accidentally dropped an F-bomb. Welcome to live television, new featured player.

is watching 1975 Sesame Street. It's hilariously bizarre and wonderful.

gets to see five of her favorite people in the world in just a few short days.

loves that it's usually the people she least suspects that end up becoming her best friends.

officially hates stethoscopes. Also on my list for the day: cats with IMPOSSIBLY TINY urethras and out-dated x-ray machines that don't work properly, causing you to waste time and expose everyone to pointless radiation by taking five million of the same radiograph.

misses the Golden State Theatre. =)

October

feels that Billy Joel kicks note-worthy amounts of ass.

"To live would be an awfully big adventure."

has apparently mastered the art of making people believe she is stronger, more daring, and more independent than perhaps she really is. ...still trying to decide if that is a good thing or not.

has learned the secret of being content in any and every situation--I know how to be abased and how to abound: everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

is harder, better, faster, stronger.

kicks so much ass.

loves Fall, this city, and Fall in this city.

loves Fall, Relient K, and--of course--this city!

hates to bum everyone out, but Where the Wild Things Are was, for me personally, one of the absolute worst movies I have ever seen. But hey, different strokes... as they say.

loves that October is the magical month of favorite people being in my house!

is glad she has good split-decision skills, or she'd have a new set of Shiba Inu scars right next to her Akita scars. Shit almost got so real...

cleaned up the trunk that she stole from someone's curbside garbage and is now going to put things in it! I'm disproportionately excited!

has concluded that maybe she could use a little Metallica in her life.

Oh, Cat Stevens... <3

is excited for Winter to be temporarily reunited with her boyfriend.

"Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun, and, baby, when it's love, if it's not rough it isn't fun." (Yeah...I took it there.)

is bummed out that my car battery decided to die for no apparent reason, and that I didn't discover it until I tried to leave for church, which I haven't been to in like a month. No room mate here to give me a jump at present. I'm sure I could ask any of my friendly neighbors, but I think I'll just post sulky facebook statuses instead. :p

"Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun, and, baby, when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun."

is exasperated, both with others and with herself.

is wondering if anyone has the technologiez to erase the past 8 months of my life. I want a do-over!

's dog came in smelling like something mysterious and horrible. An urgent emergency bath was in order.

is second suppering before bed. Fresh veggies and kefir make my body all happy.

was petting Trillian when Oakley sidled up, pushed his muzzle under my hand, and actually took my hand off my own dog's head and forced me to pet him instead. Oakley: the ultimate role model for shamelessness and friend-stealing.

owes more than one good thing in her life to the EmSense Corporation. Go figure.

"Wisdom always chooses these black eyes and these bruises over the heartache that they say never completely goes away."

will no longer be paying that extra $3 per month on her phone bill, thank you very much.

is in a good but obnoxious mood today. With that in mind, I will say I am a remarkably patient person, but it's hard not to be pissed off when you realize that someone has very knowingly wasted a good deal of your time. I wish people would get a backbone.

wishes she could cut herself some slack just once.

ate alone, quietly, with a book at a darling Thai restaurant in Wheaton. It was a very centering lunch break (even if I felt like I was cheating on Freddy and the Mrs).

If I believed in reincarnation I would deeply wonder what firecracker of a woman I was in a past life, because there is a fire in my bones that refuses to be extinguished.

November

feels like a kicked puppy.

is as obnoxious, strong, blunt, and proud as I "pretend" to be, and please don't forget it.

Dear everyone ever: Take me at my word, ALWAYS. The end.

's life has been so very full of The Nanny since moving in with Kelsey.

is just so tired.... so... very... tired....

misses Gandulf Koenig. Value Vet girls, you know what I'm talking about.

got told, "UGH, you're such a cowboy." Best. Insult. EVER.

's room is a disaster area right now, just like my heart. Awwwww, emo alert.

has the best poodle this side of the Mississip.

just looked at a picture of George Harrison and realized that she is currently the same age that he was when that photo was taken.

would like to advise her Pacific time zone peeps that there's a new show on USA called White Collar, and it's starting RIGHT NOW (10:00), and you should watch it for realzies.

kind of wants to just fall asleep on the couch (for the second time tonight).... I think I'll make it to my room, but I'll be requiring some Alice in Wonderland.

wants everyone who has ever gone backpacking with me to know that that big plastic security tag that you all love so much is still on my pack.

could spend my life just trying to sift through what I could have done better, but what good do "what if"s do? ...I'd rather forget and not slow down, than gather regret for the things I can't change now. If I become what I can't accept, resurrect, resurrect...

is really impressed with the remastered sound on the DVD release of A Hard Day's Night.

is fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering where it will go. And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong or right (where I belong), I'm right where I belong.

doesn't want you to click on the twitter link that I supposedly left on your page! "It's a trap!"

has always really hated classical music played on the guitar. I don't know why. It just sounds gross to me.

got to work with raccoons this morning!

wants to spend this weekend being still.

is pretty sure I should be deeply concerned about the increasing soft spot I'm finding for Lady Gaga.

remembers why I always ask a lot of questions before watching a rated R movie. I'm such a baby.

"You've GOT to read Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing"--completely turned high school around for me!"

"I'M AN ADULT! YOU CAN'T BUY ME, HOT-DOG MAN!!!"

is starting to feel like things will never change.

had a dream last night that I was married to George Harrison.--Like, adorable good-hair 1970's George Harrison.

loves things that seem like they have no business being real. i.e. owls, granola, stingrays, sloths, and honey (it's made by freakin' BEES. WTF).

loves it when men wear vests.

is feeling pretty good about life. I'd honestly forgotten what that felt like. =)

is having a delitghtful no-shave November.

loves you.

finds it really creepy when Oakley forces a sleeping Kelsey to pet him by moving his head repeatedly under her unconscious hand that is hanging over the side of the couch. Freakin' border collies are so weird...

's dog is one fart away from spending the night in her crate!

is a feisty one sometimes.

had fun exploring even more of Chicago's neighborhoods and scored some sweet thrift store purchases!

WANTS SNOW!

is thankful for the gracious hospitality of my lovely friends, the Smiths.

would bet you five dollars that that puppy will have chewed her IV catheter out by the time I get back to work. I think I'll go find out.

just brought home a BITCHIN' Christmas tree! It's huge!

wishes she could go back in time and either marry or be Julie Andrews.

is disregarding her personal safety for the sake of Christmas.

is a hard girl; loving me is like straightening curls.

Keep these cloudy days a-comin', Chicago!

December

loves everyone and talks too much.

isa get her some FREE Coco Pebbles, which, incidentally, will forever remind me of spending the night at Shalea's house. <3

has been gone for a long time, or that's the way it seems... But today I found myself right where I left me, up on that shelf--right where I put me away.

simply loves mid-westerners.

is makin' like a hermit crab (moving into a new, bigger shell).

will one day do a sweet, sweet axe-dance in the snow.

's dog's stomach is making sounds both noisome and multitudinous....I'm not sure if I should brace myself for an unfortunate gastrointestinal event. =X

Well, there was that event I was waiting for. Hooray.

JUST realized that the guy from Big Fish is the guy from Almost Famous, and I CAN NOT wrap my head around it!!

IS THE ENEMY!

can't believe how WARM 20 degrees feels!

's hopes and expectations: black holes and revelations.

is getting quite a work-out with these dogs at work today! Everyone is so fussy!

listened to Led Zeppelin on the way to work this morning, and it made me feel like the world is a wonderful place. <3

is a joyful person.

is watching the SNL Christmas thing that was on last night, and Kristen Wiig does an UNCANNY obnoxious SoCal brat impression! It's making me love Chicago so hard. Haha.

probably uses " <3 " way too liberally around Facebook.

won't sign away my life to someone who has the flavor but don't have no follow-through.

is thankful for falling snow, John Denver, big goofy poodles, crispy Christmas trees, and friends who somehow haven't given up on me.

"And oh, I love the life within me--I feel a part of everything I see. And oh, I love the life around me--a part of everything is here in me."

thinks Giapetto was a moron for thinking that Pinnochio was probably savvy enough at being a "real boy" to send him off to school after only like 14 hours of being animate. Did he not notice that Pinnochio LIT HIMSELF ON FIRE just the night before?! And then he's SURPRISED when the kid gets abducted by hobos and sold into slavery??

: It's true, wherever you find love, it feels like Christmas.

is happy to be home in snowy Illinois. Unfortunately, Jean Valjean has finally passed away with the old year. That fish cheated death more times and lived in more states than most people I know. Au revoir, #24601!

is all vervey.

is at the library, and the guy sitting 7 feet away from me who was just double-fisting Diet Pepsis just got up and purchased a THIRD Diet Pepsi, and is now proceeding to SLURP that one down every bit as noisily as the first two. HAVE YOU NO SHAME, MAN?!

has mixed emotions (shaken, not stirred =) ) as this year closes. One thing I can say with certainty: I am overjoyed at knowing I shall never again have to endure the debacle of 12 months that called itself 2009!

has decided that owls are an elaborate hoax.

Last Minute Business

2009-12-31T10:43:00.000-08:00

I never really resolved the magical story of me and Sean, and I really wanted to do that before the year was officially over, so this afternoon I finally finished a post that I had started roughly two months ago. It feels nice to end 2009 with the knowledge that, at long last, there's really just nothing more to say. =)

If anyone cares enough to dig through and find it, it's dated at 11/9/09.

Bookends

2009-12-30T12:17:00.001-08:00

I'm so happy to be back in Illinois, but being in New Mexico was a very necessary and healing experience for me.

Run-on sentences ACTIVATE.

I remember watching a movie in one of my ISSM classes that talked about the way the neurons in your brain fire in response to various stimuli, and how they make these sort of beaten paths through your mind that shape your default reactions to things. More importantly, the movie talked about our ability to re-route certain neural paths in order to breed different and potentially more desirable psychological or emotional responses to something. I realize that that's kindergarten stuff and is basically the goal of any kind of therapy, though each brand of therapy has their own means for achieving the same goal. But something about that one little piece of information really changed my life. It validated my long-present sense that people have the ability to be a lot more in control of a lot more of their thoughts and feelings than they tend to realize or exercise. (Unfortunately, I took the concept a little too far in terms of the kind of standard I hold myself up to: that ability to take charge of myself has become so much a part of my identity that I had a total melt-down when I couldn't extinguish or control my feelings for Sean, even though I knew it meant... ...disaster, potentially.)

Being in New Mexico for Christmas was really good for me, just like I knew it would be. My neurons have learned over the past year to fire down some pretty negative pathways. At various points in 2009, Adriana, Samantha, Sean, and Stephanie--four considerable rocks of friendship--all stopped talking to me, each for their various reasons. Even Kelsey made me feel alienated off and on for most of the summer and fall, and my relationship with my sister has been fraught with almost constant frustration.

In defense of each: Adriana has long since apologized, and that is one friendship it has been really good for me to have back. Steph can not be spoken ill of, as she has done no wrong, and her silence is probably more kindness than I even deserve from her. The first time Sean began to ignore me I will make absolutely no defense for, and it actually takes some effort to stay my hand from recounting in full the thoroughness of the offense (a sure sign of remnants of wounds not yet entirely healed), but his more recent casual silence toward me I understand completely. Kelsey had pretty serious problems of her own to deal with, and it's not that she was trying to alienate me but rather that she was trying to isolate herself. Lacey is just Lacey and always will be, and I love her, and that is defense enough. Sam is just Sam, and I loved her too, which unfortunately, in this case, I find a poor defense indeed.

All that to say... it was beautiful to be in New Mexico, where I am not only loved, I am thoroughly enjoyed, and the concepts people have of me have been forged over many years.

On Saturday night I met up with old school friends. I sat in that meeting of hearts bound by antiquity and reveled in the ease of my existence in such company. The roots of my identity as it pertains to others were a happy and affirming sight for sore eyes. I was reminded of who I have been and who I am now, and the remembrance of a much broader time line than that which encapsulated my time in California to the present was healthy and liberating. I remembered that life is episodic, and that a single episode does not define the entire series.

These people are like bookends in my heart.

We sat around Tara and Porter's tall, granite-topped kitchen table and heartily enjoyed the company for hours. We asked each other about friends from high school, cleared up several ancient mysteries, and conveyed various other delightful teen aged anecdotes.

Jessie and I had a hell of an entertaining time explaining the full, hindsight-is-20/20 story of what a real jackass David had been during senior prom. Tara and I recounted the absurdity of the infamous Bloomfield honor choir boys and their involvement in prom our junior year. And prom having been made the accidental theme, Cassady relayed her own ridiculous stories about love and betrayal amongst herself, Tabatha Lowman, Phillip Cheseborough, and Richard Bodiford, of all baffling people. The menfolk sat and listened graciously, though Porter didn't escape well-meant mockery for having been nominated "prom king" at least once.

I finally got clued in to the fact that Orion Yazzie is Coda Yazzie's brother (SERIOUSLY, WTF?!?).

No one had many kind memories of Amanda Maddox, which made me really sad for her--how tragic to have so thoroughly earned such a slew of negative feelings resounding in the memories of her former closest friends.

We also spoke of the present, however, which was a source of considerable delight to me. Hearing about everyone's adult jobs and lives was fascinating: Tara the ICU nurse; Cassady the geologist, working on highly controversial projects in Alaska; Jessie the grad student sociologist; Neal the starving artist; Porter at the power plant. Here we were discussing policy and vocation from a point of view that rested on experience and engagement, and no longer on supposition or distant hypothetical career paths. Here we were at the benchmark of a quarter of a century, some of us having first crossed paths long before puberty.

I loved and was carefree in a way that 2009 has seldom allowed. It was wonderful. I think my neural pathways have been sufficiently re-routed, just in time for 2010. =)

Here's to Many More

2009-12-25T23:19:00.000-08:00

I made it through the year, and I did not even collapse. I've gotta say, thank God for that.
I'm torn between what keeps me whole and what tears me in half; I'll fall apart or stay intact. With tired eyes I stumble back to bed. I need to realize my sorry life's not hanging by a thread--at least, not yet.

So look at me now; it's finally Christmas, and I'm home.
Head indoors to get out of this weather.
And I don't know how, but the closest friends I've ever known are all inside, singing together, singing, 'Merry Christmas, here's to many more.'

Deck the halls with mistletoe, let all your heavy burdens go up the chimney in a cloud of smoke, the fire's burning bright. ...

This has been a joyful holiday, despite the attempts of residual anxiety and depression trying their damnedest to overtake some of my happy moments.

I've been enjoying work lately. I love talking to Dr. Daley and Dr. Zollinger. Making Dr. Daley laugh is so easy that it's almost not fair, and I love giving Z (as she is often simplistically referred to) a run for her money as toughest girl on campus. For every facetiously scathing remark she fires at me, I have two that are twice as clever, and it has earned me both her respect and affection. Val and Megan have verbally marked me as one of their own, and I've pretty much always been Dr. Borowiak's new favorite since day one, though I still have no idea why. Donna also decided some time ago for whatever reason that I am the best ever, which works out well for me because she's the one who can raise my salary if she so desires. And somehow I seem to be the only one who doesn't have a problem with Kelly, the receptionist, ergo she doesn't have a problem with me. I like not having problems with people. It's my favorite.

I've been so bummed that Dr. Labak had to leave, because she is so extremely my kind of people. Lately we've gotten back in touch (thank you, Facebook), though, and she has invited me to a party at her house in January and to go cross-country skiing with her, both of which events I am super stoked for.

Megan was awesome enough to take me to the airport on Wednesday, and I was lucky enough to have my flight from IL to Denver only be delayed by an hour instead of flat-out cancelled like a lot of flights were. I thought I would for sure have missed my Denver connection to Farmington, but Lacey happened to call me within two minutes of turning my phone on as we taxied and said that they were just about to board the plane to Farmington. I begged her to beg them to hold the plane for just a few more minutes... Talk about the longest 15 minutes of my life: it felt like my stupid plane would NEVER quit driving around the dang airport and just park it! Lacey was alternately pleading and stalling the airline people, and one of the employees literally SAT on the flight clearance paperwork so that they couldn't take off without me. (That guy is absolutely my Christmas hero!)

As soon as I was off the plane I went tearing through the airport at full tilt, dodging the scores of stranded travelers sitting and laying all over the floor. Of course, being spoiled to sea-level living these days, I forgot that I was over a mile high, and after maybe 90 seconds of running I felt like my lungs were trying to run screaming out of my chest as I gasped for air. I had some 40 gates to pass by before I breathlessly arrived at A61, where the employee who had so kindly and resolutely sat on the flight paperwork was on the lookout for me. I followed him out the door into the dark, windy blizzard of flurries and tried to keep up as he ran toward the plane. Gasping that freezing air and snow into my lungs so suddenly put a deep burn in my throat the likes of which I have never experienced, and my legs were seizing up from the shock of having sat stock still for hours and then breaking straight into a run. Later I realized how badly I had strained the muscles in my back and side, as I'd been running at a really awkward angle with all my bags slung over one shoulder. But who cares? I WAS ON THE PLANE! Flights to Farmington are not easily come by, and missing that plane would have guaranteed me a night in the airport and a whole mess of hassle.

After all the hubbub and hurry, we sat on the tarmac for two hours, waiting to take our turn on the single runway that was still in operation. After two hours, the pilot announced that we needed to re-fuel, de-ice, and provide bathroom breaks for those who might need it (i.e. Lacey, who had earlier gone up to the pilots to announce that she was dangerously close to wetting her pants). There was no restroom, attendant, or true cockpit on the plane, mind you, as it only seated maybe 20 people.

So we got off the plane, then we got back on the plane, then we waited some more. We finally landed in Farmington at 12:30 pm, 5 hours behind schedule, which I would take any day over a cancelled flight! Besides, I never have that much time to sit and read with no distractions, so honestly, I was about as content as you can be in that kind of situation.

Christmas Eve was a really nice day. This was our first Christmas with Adam (last year he and Lacey stayed in Missoula), and I don't think the five of us have ever all been together for so much uninterrupted time under such mellow circumstances. We had a fun time picking on all of our inadvertent family Christmas traditions, like Lacey only making it to about 1:30 pm before suggesting that we open presents, mom being absurdly apologetic for the food she has made even though it's always super yummy, someone sabotaging mom's decorations (this year it was Lacey rearranging the nativity scene so that the baby Jesus was hoisted up on the shoulders of two of the wise men; Mary, Joseph, the third wise man were adoring the sheep; the donkey was rearing up on one of the wise men; and the shepherd was standing alone, back turned, looking awfully depressed in his downward-inclining posture), starting to open presents and then having to stop after only like two because mom realizes we need a trash bag so we can clean as we go... ah yes, those are the finishing touches that really make it feel like Christmas. =) I must say, however, that dad has not yet taken the little old woman in the miniature winter village and placed her in the top of one of the miniature trees yet. My mom always gets so amusedly angry, and my dad blames it on me EVERY year, even though I've never done it once.

Adam's parents, Steve and Aljean, joined us for Christmas dinner today. We ate food, Lacey and Adam broke the wishbone, Adam won, etc. Steve and Aljean left shortly after dinner, but Dominic and Linda came by a little after 3:00. When my dad offered them drinks, Dominic said he'd take a shot of tequila, so then of course that turned into all the men taking a shot of tequila, which of course turned into all the men plus me taking a shot of tequila. I find the social aspect of alcohol to be a really fascinating phenomenon. Lacey had been taking a nap when Linda & Dom first arrived, so when she emerged and joined us in the kitchen, another round had to be poured so she could drink a toast as well. Long story short, I ended up with 6 or 7 shots' worth in me because my dad was pouring doubles. Six shots of virtually anything doesn't do jack crap to me, because it just turns out that I hold my liquor like a dang sailor, but I'd never had tequila before, and wow... that stuff is freakin' kryptonite. That 6 or 7 shots was all it took to make my tongue feel half numb, my skin to feel tingly, and for me to be perhaps 1 1/2 or even 2 sheets to the wind.

After Linda and Dominic left we played a rollicking good game of Spades (with dad as the willing odd man out keeping score) followed by a slightly less rollicking game of Dominoes. It was the kind of evening that yields little by way of story telling but feels so very worth describing for the warmth and merriment it contained.

Tomorrow I'm due to see some old high school friends, including Cassady and Tara, neither of whom I've seen in at least 5 years. I am really looking forward to that! Cassady was one of my best friends from second grade until high school, when we naturally drifted apart a little, and now she is a geologist in Alaska--a job that I swear she was born for. I'm equally looking forward to seeing Jessie and Neal, who I am lucky enough to usually see at least once a year. Those are two people that I am really glad to still have in my life. They have begun to feel like a permanent fixture in my still relatively new but progressing adulthood, and I rather like it.

And that's Christmas 2009.
Here's to many more.

I So Hate Consequences

2009-12-21T12:02:00.000-08:00

I really, really need to figure out how to forgive myself, and soon. I have got to stop doing this to myself. So much of my joy has been restored; so many of my days are lighter and closer to carefree than they have been in nearly a year. ...until I think about Steph. I see a picture on Facebook or hear her name mentioned casually by a friend, and I am instantly sick to my bones with sorrow. I don't know what I would have done differently, except that I would have explained the situation to her infinitely sooner. The abbreviated version of the story she heard from someone other than myself unintentionally made me sound like a ruthless bitch, and I could have prevented at least that much. She knows a more balanced version of the truth now, but I can still never take back the way the information all came out, and I can never take back the way that made her feel. If I had just manned up like I am usually chomping at the bit to do, I would have at least been in control of the situation.

I thought I didn't deserve control, and I failed to realize how much worse that was going to make things.

The details no longer matter to me--it's the principle. Whatever I did or failed to do, whether it was intentional or not, whether it was inevitable or not... all of that is done and has been analyzed to death. What remains is the inherent quality of betrayal that I can't stand being the perpetrator of.

Within me there is an emptying desperation for her forgiveness. I look at what Sean did to me (in terms of our friendship) and I think, "I deserved it," as though such is nature's atonement for such supposed crimes. Intellectually, I know that that is dramatic and untrue. I would never judge another person that harshly, and so, intellectually, the pardon is granted: I can smile and shake my head at the folly of young and overly-passionate senses. But I try to breathe and my heart berates me until I shatter under the weight of my own mercilessness.

Last week I was really happy--not for any particular reason, but just because I'm a sap and pretty much everything makes me happy, especially with all this snow on the ground. But on Saturday the first thing I did that morning was check my email and Facebook. I had some notification from Myspace, which I never use anymore. I saw the pictures under my "top friends" and noticed that Sean still has as his profile picture the same picture he has had forever--he and Steph at dinner somewhere around the beginning of their relationship. I laughed a little and cringed a little on her behalf and thought, "I wish he would do something about that."
I noticed that Steph's picture was updated, and even though I knew exactly what was going to happen, I clicked on it and went to her page. I scanned her "top friends" and found myself absent, just like I had expected.

I was so mad at myself not only for how juvenile the whole moment seemed, but also for going to her page when I knew exactly what I would find. The whole thing was just stupid, so I turned off my computer and proceeded to go about enjoying my weekend.

I didn't make it very long. I knew that if I kept stuffing these emotions down, they would come back twice as ugly when I least wanted them to. I sat on my couch, looking out the giant living room window at the snow, and cried. I cried for the overwhelming sense of loss, the inescapable knowledge of injury committed, four years' worth of formerly amazing memories that now make me feel horrible... I cried for something like an hour, until my stomach hurt and I couldn't handle sitting there hating myself anymore.

I have so many moments where everything is better, but I still have those other moments, where I just want to hide away and cry until I can believe that anyone has anything but a horrible opinion of me anymore.

All I can say is thank God for Marc and Scott.

Sometimes I wish I WAS a ruthless bitch, because then I genuinely wouldn't care that I had hurt one of the best people in the world, and I could move on with my thoughtless, unfeeling life.
I know that that is not what I really want, and that I couldn't achieve that kind of ugly apathy even if I wanted to, but sometimes... sometimes I fucking hate having a heart.

Here I sit looking at the traffic lights: the red extinguishes the hope that the green ignites.
I want to run away, I want to ditch my life, cause all of my mistakes keep me awake at night.
After all of my alibis desert me, I just want to get by: I don't want nothing to hurt me.
I have no idea where my head was at, but if my heart says I'm sorry can we leave it at that?
Because I just want for all of this to end.

And I so hate consequences, and running from you is what my best defense is.
I know that I let you down, and I don't want to deal with that.

It just now hit me: this is more than just a set back.
And the way you spelled it out, well, I guess I didn't get that.
Every trace of momentum is gone, and this isn't turning out the way I want.

And I spent all last night tearing down every stoplight and stop sign in this town.
Now I think there might be no way to stop me now--I'll get away despite the fact I'm so weighed down.
All of my escapes have been exhausted. I thought I had a way but then I lost it.

My resistance was once much stronger, and I know I can't go on like this much longer.
-Matthew Thiessen

Will this ever stop feeling this way?

2009-12-19T08:40:00.000-08:00

You know, I did a lot of whining about Sean after I found out how devastatingly I had been treated, but I never did have much to say about Steph. I still don't have much to say, because if I say very much, I feel heartbreak to the point of tears and even nausea (I haven't vomited in 9 years, but this brings me close). I have been trying for at least 6 months, but I can't figure out how to deal with letting someone you love that much down in such a monumental way.

Already I've said too much.

I can't write this entry.

My post-modern ancient hippie religion

2009-12-18T22:08:00.000-08:00

I had a very lengthy and very enjoyable chat with Adriana this evening, and toward the end she asked me the recent condition of my spirituality. What ensued was a lengthy (though by no means exhaustive) monologue that felt very therapeutic somehow in its sense of big-picture hindsight, and in the freshness of the story to its audience. I decided to copy/paste it, and thread it all together with a few punctuation marks.

Adriana: How is your "walk" going lately? I love hearing people's stories.

Myself: hmmm. I have been on an interesting and difficult road for the past two years. The good news is that I still love the Lord...so insanely much that I have a hard time processing it sometimes.

I don't really know where to start.

I've spent many months deconstructing everything I've ever been taught over the span of my life about Christianity--picking it apart piece by piece and examining it. Because I decided that a lot of the things I have always been taught are a result of cultural....interpretations or something of Christianity, which I realize is a very hip and progressive thing to say. :p

Adriana: lol

Myself: But honestly, these are the conclusions I came to inside of myself. But there was a lot more going on in me than just that. Like, I don't want to sound like some coffee-sipping yuppie-hippie collegiate existentialist who got bored with her religion one day and decided it would be a lot cooler if I got really critical and post-modern about it.

Adriana: lol. Fair enough. I might be on the total "other" end of that spectrum, but I respect you as an adult to make those decisions.

Myself: Part of it was definitely a natural progression from within, but a lot of it came from a multitude of outside sources--including the influences, both positive and negative, of various Christian friends, the church I was going to, the churches I used to go to, the Bible--just, seriously everything. And then in January of 2008 some things changed in my life. I learned some things--primarily that month, but extending over the next couple of months as well--that changed me irrevocably. And I don't mean like...scholastically learned something. I mean learned some things about the lives of some of the people absolutely the most dear to me: bad, bad things that made me not able to sleep sometimes; that left me crying on my bedroom floor at a total loss, because the world can be a very, very bad place. And I guess I finally had to deal with that a little closer to home.

And when that happened, it was just kind of the last straw. And not like I made up my mind...like....there were just sort of these natural responses to certain things that i couldn't shake just by forcing myself to do or not do something. I went to church 3 times between that January and May, and each time it was all I could do to keep my butt in the seat. I couldn't STAND being there. It wasn't that I was mad at God or that I found anything WRONG with what was happening in that church, I just couldn't handle it on a personal level. The things they talked about and the way they talked about God felt completely pointless. And i knew they weren't pointless at all, but I... really didn't know how to deal with things at that point. And I didn't entirely know how to interact with God anymore. My entire perspective on EVERYTHING was rearranged, and it has never gone back to what it was before. I'm fairly confident it never will, but that's not an inherently bad thing, just very difficult to process.

Adriana: hhmm. I don't know that anything I hear about my friends or family will ever be anymore diffilcult to deal with than it has ever been. I have heard a lot of really horrible things.

Myself: Have you ever watched someone do something bad to an animal, just because they are a terrible person and get a kick out of it? Like, even just in a movie or something?

Adriana: yeah

Myself: And it makes you just feel overwhelmingly sick.

Adriana: yes

Myself: It was like that feeling, only now applied to people, and applied to people that are very close to me, so that sense of sickness and outrage multiplied by an astronomical number. That's kind of how I felt. Anyway, there's a lot to that. I just sort of ended up being surrounded by these intensely horrible bits of knowledge.

Adriana: bleh : ( I'm sorry

Myself: It's not like I didn't know that man was fallen

Adriana: right

Myself: It's not like I didn't know that the world is a bad place. But now I KNOW it in my soul, in a very personal and horrible way.

ANYWAYS

So, that will kind of send you spiraling. EVERYTHING was uprooted within me: everything except the rock that God is who he says he is. Surprisingly, I never lost sight of my faith.

I moved to TN, which ended up being a very trying place. I'd been out of church for about 5 months at that point, and I felt ready to give it a try again. I tried maybe half a dozen churches in TN and had very mediocre experiences at all of them. And I've always been annoyed by whiners who over-shop for churches, but with the place I was at personally, I was not prepared to deal with any kind of obstacles or adversity in a church setting. So I gave up after a couple of months--by which time I had already decided that Nashville sucked and that I was moving to Chicago, so then I was REALLY unmotivated to try and find a church.

When I came up here God flagrantly sent two people my way--a couple that I started chatting with at the zoo, and now I go to their church. And I have started going to a small group, too.

And throughout all of this.... there has just been this sense of "I don't know how to do this," meaning... I didn't know how to be a Christian any more. I knew I loved God, and I knew that I believed Him, but I didn't know what that should look like. Because I don't believe it should look like a lot of the things I grew up being taught it should look like.

But from the very beginning, way back in January of '08, I told God..."I don't know how to do this [how to deal with the pain, how to deal with the truth, how to be a christian, how to interact with other human beings, for crying out loud]...but I won't let go if you won't." And there were weeks on end when I didn't even speak to him except to say.... "I'm still holding on."

I didn't know what else to say.

But--not surprisingly--God has been incredibly faithful, and he has been re-teaching me how to do this. How to do life, how to do christianity, how to love others. And I think one of the best things that all that horribleness did for me, was to shatter any illusions i had about having had things figured out. I think God wanted to rebuild me in some ways, and not that that is WHY all those bad things happened or anything, but that he never lets a thing go to waste.

Adriana: definitely

Myself: Since moving to Tennessee, I have just had the shit kicked out of me month after month after month, and it still hasn't let up. But I'd like to believe that God is making me hard, in a good way. That he's not wreacking havoc in my life, but that he won't let the havoc go to waste.

And I am already seeing some of the results of the things that he has done in me. One of my best friends is an athiest--or at least quite a skeptic. I would never have permitted such a thing in my life before. But not only has that friend gotten me through some of my hardest times lately, God opened up an amazing, beautiful, weighty conversation--one that I pray will not soon be forgotten.

I don't konw... sometimes I still just sit in church and cry over communion and tell God that I'm still just hanging on if he is. And in a lot of ways I am still being that obnoxious post-modern hippie christian that a lot of people think is wishy-washy or rebellious. I don't know if I am being rebellious, but I am definitely not being wishy-washy.

Adriana: lol

Myself: And my true heart is still for the Lord. That has never changed.

Adriana: It's a good place to start.

Myself: And it has really humbled me and brought me to a place that is a lot more open to those who are at various places in their journey--who are also just hanging on right now. It has definitely brought me down from the overly-tough love I used to think was everyone's best medicine and shown me a lot about how God deals with everyone so differently. Not that I didn't know that before, but again, now I know it in a way that is... intense.

No matter how much we know of God, he is always a better God than we realize he is capable of being, and that is a good recipe for salvation.

So.... in a lot of words.... I guess that is the medium-length version of how my "walk" is. It's the best it has been in 2 years =) and getting better all the time.

Thanksgiving 2009

2009-11-26T10:00:00.000-08:00

Sitting here trying to wax sentimental over the holiday, I'm finding my heart a little closed off. I'm surprised to find it thus, as shutting off my emotions has never been a defense mechanism that I relish or practice. I know it's only temporary (and certainly not aided by Jonathan being here--his is a presence that invariably puts me on edge), though, and my feeling of being on the up and up has remained constant for at least a week now.

Bearing all that in mind, here are 50 things I'm thankful for today--some rather arbitrary, some extremely trivial, but certainly at least one or two that would render me most ungrateful if left unrealized.

1. It's dark today, and cold. The breeze comes and goes and brings with it a piecrust promise of flurries... Even if we don't see any snow today, I love that the sky is wintry and grey. It makes me feel secure and happy with the season.

2. The smell of hot curling irons. I was just helping Kelsey put the finishing touches on her hair, and that familiar smell reminds me of the bustle of getting ready to go somewhere. I was never the one curling my hair, mind you--but Lacey and my mom were always tireless in their personal preparations.

3. My job--not only the fact that I even have one and get paid more than bare minimum for it, but that I even like where I work. I've started to become pretty fond of some of my coworkers, and it's really such a relief after the vacuous soul-destroyer that was Value Vet.

4. That I have somewhere familiar to go today. We spent this holiday at Phyllis & Jim's house last year, too.

5. That Midwesterners are shameless holiday decorators! The Halloween decorations were a plentiful delight, and I'm already starting to see the Christmas lights sprouting up here and there. I can't wait!

6. My dog is seriously the best ever. I couldn't have asked for a dog better suited to my personality.

7. Big Poodles in general, with their incorrigible joy and their legs made of springs!

8. The Evergreen trees that will act as a visual anchor of greenery during this long and dead winter.

9. Boromir's still alive and kickin' into middle or perhaps even old age. I took him to work for an exam and ran some bloodwork--everything looks great.

10. HE'S JEAN VALJEEEEEEEAAAAAN!! Yes, #24601 is still alive in all his glory, only made stronger by the four rather compelling near-death experiences he has known in his day. I've decided I want to have him taxidermied when he does finally kick the bucket. Can you imagine a mounted 2" fish hanging on my wall? What a conversation piece' and that fish deserves to go out in a blaze of glory.

11. Well, if Jonathan and Kelsey are going to break up, which is just such a horrible shame, I am at least thankful that I am ensured a room mate for another year. Rather bittersweet, that one.

12. That my entire family got to come see Chicago. How wonderful.

13. That Sean got to come out here for a couple of weeks. Even though there are obviously aspects of that whole scenario that are really upsetting, there are other aspects of it that will always provide me with a sense of fondness, no matter what a bad turn things took after he left.

14. That Barred Owl that I heard while camping, alone and hurting (but alive and mending) on the leafy forest floor.

15. That I finally work at a clinic where I get to handle exotics!

16. The day I met Pat & Ari at the zoo.

17. That I found a church that I want to be a part of.

18. That little things can so hugely make my day.

19. That I know myself.

20. That I live a mile and a half from the train station.

21. That I got out of Nashville.

22. That Pat & Ari treat me like they know me every time they see me.

23. Books

24. That I will get to go to NM for Christmas after all.

25. This awesome house that we pay way too little for.

26. My kayak

27. That Kelsey didn't die (twice) back in June.

28. That Steph will even still talk to me.

29. My cheap, crazy noisy bed, whose springs are inescapably felt, that has come with me all the way from Marina, CA.

30. That I am going to have a snowy winter (and perhaps many snowy winters to come)!

31. Scott

32. Strong connections felt with total strangers.

33. That Sean apologized to me.

34. That Lacey is happily married to someone the whole family adores.

35. That my parents decided in 1987 that they didn't want to raise their children in Bakersfield.

36. Marc

37. The big tree just outside my East bedroom window, which allows me to watch squirrels and chipmunks from my bed and also gives me easy access to the roof.

38. Chance meetings

39. That my cousin Travis is finally having success with one of his shows.

40. The Field Museum

41. The glory that is Chicago.

42. That Kristen and I keep in touch. The childhood that we shared anchors a lot of my perceptions about myself and turns others entirely on their heads.

43. That God will never change his mind about me.

44. Kristen Wiig and Bill Hader (aka Kelsey's girlfriend and my boyfriend).

45. That it's just my nature to fall madly in love with every place I go and every person I ever meet.

46. Angel Fire, NM

47. Jane Austen

48. The Wheaton Public Library, where many a lunch is whiled away in reading or writing.

49. That I lost like 15 pounds that I didn't even know I could lose and subsequently really like the way I look.

50. The two days in July that I spent running free among more of the hidden wonders of New Mexico with Kelsey and Forrester

Fresh off the plane

2009-11-24T15:38:00.000-08:00

Jonathan's here now. He's such a pain in the ass.

Haha, but honestly, I'm just mad at him because he's being a jackass. I think he and Kelsey are about to be splitsville, which makes me really, really sad. She said that she's basically just going to treat this visit as a last hurrah, and all I could say was, "Yeah, I know what that's like."

In other news, I've been feeling A LOT better about life, and all I can say is thank you, God. Freaking A, it was way past time for something to give, you know? I do this thing when something pisses me off where I just get more and more angry until I can't possibly get any angrier, and then, suddenly, the whole things is just HILARIOUS and I will never feel angry over that situation again. That's not what has happened in this case, unfortunately, but the positive sense of "breaking point" is comparable.

--thought interrupted-- Jonathan just brought up Monterey, and I had a sudden thrill of remembering that I have shared that place with him. That alone just might help him NOT get punched in the face. =)

Derby Dolls

2009-11-19T17:15:00.000-08:00

I just sent an email to the Windy City Rollers asking if I can be a volunteer with them.
I really really really want to play.

=x

Finishing Emma

2009-11-17T16:39:00.000-08:00

The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for her thoughts--She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had rushed on her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a fresh surprize; and every surprize must be matter of humiliation to her. -- How to understand it all! How to understand the deceptions she had been thus practising on herself, and living under! -- The blunders, the blindness of her own head and heart!--she sat still, she walked about, she tried her own room, she tried the shrubbery--in every place, in every posture, she perceived that she had acted most weakly; that she had been imposed on by others in a most mortifying degree; that she had been imposing on herself in a degree yet more mortifying; that she was wretched, and should probably find this day but the beginning of wretchedness.

To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the first endeavour. To that point went every leisure moment which her father's claims on her allowed, and every moment of involuntary absence of mind.

How long had Mr. Knightley been so dear to her, as every feeling declared him now to be? When had his influence, such influence begun?--When had he succeeded tot hat place in her affection, which Frank Churchill had once, for a short period, occupied?--She looked back; she compared the two--compared them, as they had always stood in her estimation, from the time of hte latter's becoming known to her--and as they must at any time have been compared by her, had it--oh! had it, by any blessed felicity, occurred to her, to institute the comparison.--She saw that there never had been a time when she did not consider Mr. Knightley as infinitely the superior, or when his regard for her had not been infinitely most dear. She saw, that in persuading herself, in fancying, in acting to the contrary, she had been entirely under a delusion, totally ignorant of her own heart--and, in short, that she had never really cared for Frank Churchill at all! (p. 399-400)

Till now that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never known how much of her happiness depended on being first with Mr. Knightley, first in interest and affection.--Satisfied that it was so, and feeling it her due, she had enjoyed it without reflection; and only in the dread of being supplanted, found how inexpressibly important it had been. ... In spite of all her faults, she knew she was dear to him; might not she say, very dear?--When the suggestions of hope, however, which must follow here, presented themselves, she could not presume to indulge them. (p. 402)

"On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions. 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:"--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart."

"Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?"

"Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself. 'The consequence,' said she, 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. ...'"

"Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." (p. 405-406)

"Are you well, my Emma?" was Mrs. Weston's parting question.
"Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know." (p. 407)

"It's us who let love down."

2009-11-14T10:14:00.001-08:00

-Kristen Marlo

.

Starved Rock

2009-11-12T17:20:00.000-08:00

Both Kelsey and I had a rare weekend off from work, so Kelsey proposed we go down to Starved Rock State Park and do some hiking / camping.

Um, yes, please.

Actually, it's no big secret that I've been running on empty for almost a year now, and having reached new levels of emotional exhaustion over the past month, my normally overwhelming joie de vivre has been temporarily replaced with a broken and weary apathy. I honestly had to force myself to agree to the trip because I knew it would be good for me and that in my normal, true state of mind, I would never pass up a chance to be in my element of simplicity. With Scott only having departed on Wednesday, I haven't had a lot of time to myself in the past...6 weeks or so, so I was in no hurry to get up early Saturday morning and head to a crowded campsite. Starved Rock is only a little more than an hour away, so I let Kelsey go down ahead of me as early as she pleased and figured Trillian and I would catch up later.

It was fantastically, unseasonably warm out as I threw a few essentials into the back of my car and headed south. Kelsey and I got in touch while I was driving, and she confirmed my fears that the campgrounds and hiking trails alike were in fact jam-packed with people taking advantage of the pleasant weather. My already struggling enthusiasm was not helped by this news, but I was determined to have a good attitude and embrace the abstract freedom I inevitably find when I sleep on the ground.

I pulled into our campsite--Kelsey had chosen a good one. It wasn't near anyone loud, and it was sort of backed into a corner created by the contours of a nearby ravine. Kelsey hadn't quite returned from her early afternoon hike, so I laid on top of my car and read while Trillian explored. Can I please just say how much I love my dog? I hardly even had to pay attention to her while she ran around--she seemed to just instinctively know how far she was allowed to go, and she never ventured past the perimeter of our little camp.

The sun goes down early these days, so we had a few hours of darkness to kill before we could resign ourselves to sleep, and we passed the time in eating and talking. Kelsey and I haven't been terribly close for the last month (or two, or three?) for a lot of reasons, most of them circumstantial, so it was great to re-connect a little bit.

When we finally deemed the hour late enough to make sleep excusable, Kelsey zipped herself into her tent, but I took my bag and my dog and walked back into the trees to find my own suitable bed. Laying on my back on a thick carpet of leaves, the naked branches overhead were an inky black against the dark sky. The night was clear enough to reveal enough stars to please even a child of the desert, and man...talk about a sight for sore eyes.

Any time I sleep out (i.e. no tent) I usually wake up at least 3 times during the night, even though I sleep well and am still thoroughly rested by morning. I don't mind the waking, honestly, which is probably why it continues to happen: I don't often enough experience the world uninhibited by walls and floors and ceilings at those dark and quiet hours, so the novelty cancels out the potential annoyance.

On my first of that night's wakings, I opened my eyes to a sea of silver and shadows--the forest awash in the rays of a full moon that had been cleverly hiding below the horizon until I went to sleep. Everything formerly so dark and resigned was now radiant and glowing, as though some unnamed excitement had blown a thrilling breath through the barren trees and dead leaves and given them a secret and short-lived new life. That whisper of energy shivered through me, though I can't remember how long I looked on in wonder or when I fell asleep again--enchantment seems always to demand in exchange for its beauty a steep fare of forgetfulness.

A few hours later I was called out of my slumber by a tremendous, confusing noise. Immediately I was wide awake and trying to figure out what I was hearing: it was a long sustaining note and so blaring that at first I thought someone's (slightly peculiar) car alarm was sounding. By the time the long, profound wail descended and then fell off entirely, I realized it was an animal, and the finished whoop was then followed by several shorter, more punctuated calls. The sheer volume and clarity of the sound suggested its purveyor was remarkably nearby, and if I hadn't been a little confused--having been startled so suddenly out of a deep sleep--I would have quickly put my contacts in and scrutinized the naked tops of the surrounding trees. (Later research informed me that I was hearing a Barred Owl--and Oh! what I would give to see an owl in the wild, so nearby, on such an Autumnal night in a moonlit forest!) Unfortunately, I had only the presence of mind to deduce that the bone-chilling cry I had just heard must be some kind of magnificent bird, and that my life seemed perhaps one degree fuller for having been party to its lonesome nocturnal monologue.

When morning arrived I awoke maybe a quarter of an hour before the sun managed to climb over the horizon, fully satisfied that I had completed the night, the glimpses of which seemed fit for a storybook. Remembering the incredible cry of what I was finally realizing must have been an owl, I heard faintly in the distance something like a shrill wind approaching. Steadily growing both louder and nearer, I wondered if I was hearing a car...but it was too high-pitched to be a car, and it seemed to be coming broadly from the North, instead of from one pinpoint on the road that lay just East of our camp. The indistinct, high-pitched gale swelled into an impenetrable wall of sound, and as the noise, along with my suspense, reached the brink of overwhelming, thousands of birds burst into the sky directly overhead.

I was awed.

Never in my life--with perhaps the exception of the birds at Latrabjarg, Iceland--have I seen so many animals at once. The cloud of traffic seemed never-ending. Scores of birds at a time would take pause in the branches directly above me, and every time the resting group would resume their flight, their simultaneous flapping would create a soft blast of displaced air that harmonized gorgeously with the continuous din of chirping and beating wings. They were so numerous that their unfathomable flock, divided into two groups, took perhaps an uninterrupted ten minutes to pass through. As the last of them quit the trees above me and the sound of their plight began at last to fade into the South, a single silent leaf drifted down and landed on my chest.

The morning was still so young that the rest of the world resumed an enormous silence once the birds had accomplished their passing-through, and I under my solitary fallen leaf--the only evidence left of this extraordinary moment--was left alone, full of wonder.

Hiking with the dogs was, naturally, a joy, and my spirits were refreshed by the passing of several earthen miles beneath my boots.

We headed back to Downers Grove shortly after noon. Returning home, my heart still felt every bit as destroyed as it did before I left, but at least I had within me one more piece of the fullness this incredible world has to offer.

(A flock of Starlings, which are probably what I was seeing that morning.)

A Barred Owl. <3

The Expanding Cemetery of My Friendships

2009-11-11T12:26:00.000-08:00

I can feel him slipping away, and it tastes at once of tragedy and of relief. As every next facet of my heart realizes fully the devastation, that part cracks and shatters under the weight of this mess--and then takes on a bittersweet callous, no matter how I fight it.

I will never have him the way I wanted to, but--far worse--I will never have him the way I used to, and that irrevocable fact suffocates me. Such friendship as he and I have known is not easily come by. That such a sweetness should be made ugly, I can hardly abide the sting of.

The disappointment and rejection are one thing, but a resilience lies within me that dusts me off every time and points me in the direction of the next adventure. Yes, admittedly the failed romance is a heart-breaker, but it is the brutally mangled friendship--the crippling sense of betrayal--that cuts me down to my very soul.

My stoicism broke. A witness to the pinnacle of my vulnerability (though certainly driven by insecurities of his own), he chose the moment at which I had nothing left to offer to turn an unjustly cold and skeptical eye on my very character. How do you recover from that? I feel robbed of a dignity that I never thought I needed to guard.

For the first time in years, I don't know what he thinks of me anymore, and I am wilted by that novel and intensely unwelcome uncertainty. His opinion of me was always much higher than I could ever deserve, and it is a rug pulled right out from under me that that must certainly never again hold true. So obliterated is my trust--so destroyed are my feelings--that I can't even run the relatively negligible risk it takes just to believe that he likes me as a person.

And then there's Sam.

We finally kissed and made up--or rather, she did. I listed my grievances, and she apologized with a profusion and sincerity that made me go as easy on her as I always do when she owes me an apology. Somehow her desperation to make things right made me realize that, while I fully appreciate her apology and am glad to be once more on friendly terms, I suspect this blow to our friendship to be a lethal one.

Sam has done me some pretty serious wrongs in the past, but she has a penitent heart, and I was always glad to have found myself moved on from those incidents and our friendship as strong as ever. But this time... I think she has finally pushed me to my breaking point, and I feel not the least inclination to place one iota of trust in her ever again. I'm happy to know her as a friendly acquaintance, happy to talk on the phone once in a while about whatever seems worth talking about, but beyond that... She has proven to me at least five times over that she can not be trusted with my heart, and this feels like the final nail in the coffin.

And of course, there's Steph, whose name I hardly dare mention.
One person who has never so much as looked at me the wrong way... I fear I will forever be buried under the knowledge of how utterly I have failed her. Lack of intent seems a poor plea for redemption.
Sometimes I think I've forgiven myself, and sometimes I think I never will.

.

All I Really Want

2009-11-09T12:07:00.000-08:00

This post has taken me over two months to write... For a very long time I couldn't revisit or complete it without going into a very dark place within myself, and I have had it with dark places. But now, on the last day of 2009, I find it needful to have done with it, that it may officially take its appropriate place as a thing of the past--a thing I do not have to deal with anymore--a thing that is truly, thoroughly over, and that I never have to experience again, learn from it though I may.

****

Do I stress you out? My sweater is on backwards and inside out, and you say, "How appropriate." I don't want to dissect everything today--I don't mean to pick you apart, you see, but I can't help it.
There I go, jumping before the gunshot has gone off. Slap me with the splintered ruler; and it would knock me to the floor if I wasn't there already...

And all I really want is some patience: a way to calm the angry voice.
And all I really want is deliverance.

Do I wear you out? You must wonder why I'm so relentless and all strung out--I'm consumed by the chill of solitary.

Enough about me, let's talk about you for a minute. Enough about you, let's talk about life for a while: the conflicts, the craziness, and the sound of pretenses falling all around. Why are you so petrified of silence? Did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines or when you think you're gonna die? Or did you long for the next distraction?

And all I need now is intellectual intercourse: a soul to dig the hole much deeper.

All I really want is some peace, man--a place to find a common ground.
And all I really want is a wavelength.

All I really want is some comfort--a way to get my hands untied.
And all I really want is some justice...

(-Alanis Morissette)

When Sean and I said goodbye at the airport, I couldn't escape the gut-wrenching fear that that was the end of any kind of meaningful friendship between us. I have learned the hard way over the past several years that becoming high-maintenance is a death-wish as far as relationships go, and I couldn't help but figure that after the tangle of emotions that has dominated these past several months, Sean must be completely done with me. He hadn't even been gone a week when I started to hear stray comments from various friends that implied he had told people that he'd had a bad time out here. I also got filled in on the details I had long been missing from this story--all the things he had said to Steph that he should have said to me--and I was totally fucking blown away.

I saw him on G-Talk and said hello. All I meant to do was shoot the breeze. I wasn't planning on seeking any kind of resolution for at least a month, both because I wanted time for the emotions to not be so raw and because I wanted him to have time to reflect on things and have some distance if he needed it. However, after I talked to him a little bit about the fact that Steph and I had finally talked, he asked, "So how do you feel about our friendship at this point?"

I was actually really surprised that he asked, and I didn't know what to say immediately. I didn't really want to have that discussion over IM, but he couldn't get on the phone with me right away because his phone's reception is terrible and he has to leave the house every time he wants to make a call. He offered to call me the next day when he could get away for a while to talk, but I figured there was no sense in dragging this out. I wasn't about to go to bed and then spend an entire day at work fearing that phone call and trying to figure out what I was going to say to him.

I let him know that I wasn't angry over the fact that things didn't work out between us. How could I possibly be angry over that? Life is just life, people are just people, and love...is a very tricky and evasive thing. Sometimes the stars just don't line up right for some reason, and I am honestly as ok with that as I think any human being can be. What I was hurt by was the realization that he had known for weeks that he was going to let me down but neglected to just get it over with. I have still never found the words to even BEGIN to explain how utterly, desperately humiliated that made me feel, though I tried like hell to give him at least some idea of it. I explained how heart-breaking it was to gradually realize how thoroughly I was losing him [as a friend] as he contacted me less and less throughout September. He had blamed it on being busy with work and tried to maintain that there was nothing more to it than that. I chose to trust his word, even though something about the whole thing raged against my intuition in a way I have seldom felt. Again with being made to feel more foolish than I have ever imagined I could be made to feel. It's hard to accept that I could let myself be so completely strung along for such a length of time.

On the other hand, the reason I allowed myself to be so incredibly taken is because I have always had the utmost reason to trust him. I remember talking to him on the phone one evening in June. Our friendship had reached new levels as he confided in me about his relationship troubles and I somewhat hesitantly began to confide in him about my almost-everything-troubles. ...blah blah blah, I eventually came to trust him as fully as I can any human, and it felt especially dangerous given my then-undisclosed feelings for him. I wish I could have realized what kind of grave I was digging for myself. But, honestly, I can't entirely blame only myself. The affectionate kindness and extensive reassurances he constantly volunteered drew me out of myself more and more. With the exception of Kelsey and Carly, there was no one in the world I was closer with. He provided a support and sweetness with a depth and consistency I have never encountered.

As wonderful as all that was, it simply erected a higher platform from which to fall. I was blindsided when I realized how careless he had been with my feelings after both of us had invested so much into our friendship. The feeling of being devalued is overwhelming.
ANYDANGWAY...

I tried to convey most of that to him, at least to make him understand where I was coming from. I honestly hadn't held him accountable for ANYTHING until that week, silently or otherwise, and now I felt a tremendous need to unload some of this pain onto him. I didn't expect much by way of answer... I expected him to say "I understand," and little else. ...Well, that's not entirely true. I expected him to feed me more bullshit lines like he had been for the past two months when I tried to talk to him about any of this.

However, much to my surprise, and much to his credit, he launched into a thorough explanation and sincere apology, complete with a satisfactory amount of self-deprecating comments, owning up entirely to how selfish and thoughtless he was during this long process.

I was crying and annoyed to be doing so in front of a computer screen. I mentioned again that I wished he could call me, even if only for a few minutes. My heart was worse than broken, and I couldn't help but have this feeling of, "Look man, you caused this pathetic tearful mess, now you deal with it." I don't know if that's really fair or not, but honestly, I don't care. I find it worth mentioning that back around the first of October when he initially let me down and called off whatever potential relationship we were considering, I didn't cry, I didn't get emotional, I didn't make him feel guilty or even let on that I was crushed, aside from the obvious comments about being "disappointed" or whatever diplomatic rhetoric I so love to employ when I am forcing emotion to reduce itself to a business transaction. The fact that he had decided he wasn't and wouldn't be in love with me was heart-breaking, yes, but in a very pure way that I find easy to let go with a little time and a little support from my friends, for I am not easily thrown into despair. I didn't make him a part of that mourning process--in fact, I tried like hell to hide it from him. It wasn't his--or anybody's--fault; it simply was. THIS, on the other hand, was different entirely. He had been deceitful and cowardly and wounded me with circumstances that were 100% in his control. He had displayed a devastating disregard for me--supposedly one of his best friends--over a substantial period of time. So judge me if you will, but I needed to hear that familiar voice apologize to me, not just read the words, and I didn't feel particularly inclined to give a crap that I was subjecting him to a very low version of myself in a state of total emotional wreckage.

To my surprise, he called me. And I can tell you right now that if our friendship ever finds itself restored to any blessed state of normalcy and dearness, it will have begun with that single gesture. It meant a lot to me.

He reiterated, unprompted, his entire apology while I sat on my bed and bawled as silently as possible (a feat both challenging and monumentally pointless). I realize that I am ridiculous, first wanting him to have to deal with me no matter my condition but then having so much pride that I tried furiously to obscure my already-bared lack of composure. He explained himself once more, he made no excuses, he told me he was sorry. He said that he hated that he was apologizing over the phone instead of in person, and that he especially hated that I was here crying alone. (It's weird, but other than his apology, that was somehow possibly the most important thing he said to me that night. I think, looking back, that I had been laid so low and made to feel so foolish and ill-used for my openness that by that point I beheld my own vulnerability with both a sense of disdain and of dread. To be found out and embraced in that vulnerability by the person who had caused the initial damage was, I think, very affirming and comforting.)

Sitting and crying and letting him be humble and kind was unspeakably healing.

And, oh, how I wish the conversation would thus have ended.

Unfortunately, for better or worse, the conversation continued...
and we began to discuss his time in Chicago. The short short shortest version is that he thought I was being manipulative and passive-aggressive for like the first entire half of the time he was out here. The lack of empathy that implies on his behalf I find nothing short of stunning. It was difficult, too, to have garnered so much healing in the first half of the conversation, only to have my feelings once more cut to horrible ribbons in the second half. The only other time I have ever felt such a sickening mixture of destroyed feelings and total indignant outrage was the time Jason Krach told me that, deny it though I might, he "knew" that I had feelings for him.

There was just this overwhelming sense of.... do you even KNOW me? Like, have you ever spent even five fucking minutes with me? I don't need to be passive-aggressive: I have absolutely no qualms with telling anybody any time whatever it is I need to tell them. I am of course leaving out a tremendous amount of details that I don't wish to recount even on a personal level, let alone on a public one. (And by "public" I am of course referring to all my imaginary friends who read my inane rantings so faithfully. =) ) But...I mean, there were even MULTIPLE conversations while he was here in which I tried to understand how he was feeling or what he was thinking--I was trying to get him to take down the enormously unprecedented and obnoxious walls he would erect at random moments for hours on end--something that I came to find out was defensive tactic when he thought *I* was being passive-aggressive. Man, what a subversive bitch I was, asking if he was having a good time, asking what was wrong when he would get quiet or act sulky. When I asked him for specific examples, he cited (among other things) my non-enthusiasm at going out to do something after I had been away at work for 12 hours. Seriously, Sean....what. the. hell.

I don't know if I'll ever find the words for how hurtful that was.

HOWEVER... the one enormously redeeming quality of that disaster of a discussion was that, as you can imagine, I was hardly at a point of mincing words, and he took a substantial amount of berating with the utmost commendable humility. I say again: "if our friendship ever finds itself restored to any blessed state of normalcy and dearness, it will have begun with that single gesture."

And that was that.

Thus ended a really crazy time in my life (and certainly Sean's and Steph's as well). It has been more difficult than I expected it to be to pick up the pieces of the mess I helped to make. I don't think I've ever cried so much in my life as I have this year, but like Paul said, "It's getting better all the time," and like John aptly chimed in, "It can't get no worse."

Relient K Therapy

2009-11-08T16:47:00.000-08:00

I kind of feel like a 13 years old girl right now, but I don't care. The latest Relient K release suggests to me that Matt Thiessen had an even more horrible 2009 than I have had. It was released on my birthday, to boot. I'm not sure that I've ever taken any album quite as personally as I've taken this one... it's mostly a case of coincidental timing, I suppose. Anyway, I'm sorry if this is a really lame and emo thing to do, but here is a montage of lyrics from start to finish of that album that so thoroughly express the current state of my heart. I don't really expect anyone to read this--silly things like this just make me feel a little bit better, you know?

How many times can I push it aside? Is it time I befriended all the ghosts of all the things that haunt me most so they leave me alone? Move on with my life--be certain the steps of left and right don't fight the direction of upright.
It's time to decide which is out of my mind: cause it'll be me unless I put some thoughts to rest and leave some faults behind.

Cause I could spend my life just trying to sift through what I could have done better, but what good do "what if"s do?

I'd rather forget and not slow down, than gather regret for the things I can't change now. If I become what I can't accept, resurrect, resurrect...

I listen to the sirens as they sing me back to sleep; I pray that no one's seriously hurt.
It feel like everything is dying at the pivot point of me; I listen to the sirens tell me things could still be worse. Departing from the hospital, ill news shows on your face too well. You're trying not to cough at all--it hurts. All options are exhausted...I miss you now. I loved you, and I know things could still be worse.

If you close your eyes and listen close, you can hear that chapter close. And it's all rebound in better clothes when you like the way the story goes. Cause the sun still burns the shadows out, and there's nothing to complain about now.

No, I don't need a soul to hold. Without you I'm still whole. You and life remain beautiful.

Cause if this was our destiny I'd treasure the fact, and I'd give you what's left of me if I'd held back.

I've been working with adhesives: chains and locks and ropes with knots to tether. But nothing's taking to the pieces--I can't seem to hold it all together.
Well I've been trying to ingest this, but everything to me just seems like nonsense, and I'm not sure if I can get it. I guess it's time for me to grow a conscience to combat the lapse that explains why all of this simply collapsed.

...and I swear this to you: I wish that this was not the truth, but it's something that you fell into, and crawling out is hard when you are not so sure it's what you want to do. Not convinced it's what you want to do.

It's not the end of the world, just you and me. And we're a part of it: everyone.
We're a part of it: everything.
And when a nightmare finally does unfold, perspective is a lovely hand to hold.

Letting it all sink in, it's good to feel a sting now and again. I hope it's one less woeful thing there is to fight through. Forgetting it all: begin. Fresh paper and a nice expensive pen... The past can not subtract a single thing from what I might do...unless that's what I let it do.

This is just therapy: let's call it what it is.
With a death-grip on this life always transitioning. This is my therapy.

I got a chill, and I wanted to say it was you. Be still because what I'm about to say is the truth:
Unless we stretch ourselves to the point of nearly breaking in two, we'll never find our weakness coming unglued. A cracked sculpture; I wanted to say it was you. Feeding vultures are why I feel the way I do.
I fell in love, and I wanted to say it was you.
I wanted to say it was you.

A sudden wind, and I wanted to say it was you. I've never been so confused about who knows the truth. Where to begin? Well, I wanted to say it was you because you swore you had your hand in this, too.

If you believe me, we could stand the test of time like no one else.
If you believe me, you know it means you'd have to disbelieve yourself.

I can't keep a straight face and say this is not the end--not if you want it--it's upon us, and I want to say it's sinking in. So think real slow. Don't forget that yes is yes and no is no...

You're not the first thing in my life I've loved and lost. Yeah, I've thought worse things that I might be less inclined to merely just shrug off. I took the fire escape and made it out alive. Yes, I still burn from time to time, but I've a healing hand against my side.

Title Pending

2009-11-04T21:22:00.000-08:00

Thursday night I went into the city to have dinner at Carmine's with Scott. We got to talking about the whole Sean, Steph and I thing, and he actually laughed at me when I asserted that Sean and I would continue to be good friends after this ordeal has ended. I was annoyed at first that he was so quick and firm in his differing opinion, and then he said something that gave me pause. He said, "No, you will force yourself to be friends with him to prove that you are better than the emotion, and then you will carry around a seed of resentment."

He was right. I thought about my friendship with Jonathan. Jonathan obliterated my trust in him and really thoroughly screwed me over only a few months into our friendship, which was at the time becoming fairly substantial and had at various times been accelerated by mutual (though undeclared) affections. The appropriate reconciliations were eventually made, and our friendship resumed, but it has never for a day been what it was before he burned me. I have been constantly en guarde with him ever since, and no matter how I try, I can never truly be my uninhibited self around him. Then, when he came to see me in Tennessee and hugely hurt my feelings over the course of the last two days of the trip, I couldn't take it anymore. He never owned up to that situation, ergo never apologized for it, and it was at that point that I decided I couldn't stand to cry one more time over a friendship that had been so forced for so long, no matter how much I enjoyed the other participant. I proceeded to quietly, purposefully let our relationship starve to death.

I played Scott's words over in my head and foresaw my friendship with Sean taking the same route as my friendship with Jonathan. Jonathan, though he was one of my closest (and indeed only) friends at the time, had only been a part of my life for a matter of months--Sean has been a part of my life for over 3 years. Sean was my Y-Chromosome Roomie, my reliable grocery date to Trader Joe's, the constant sound of a drum pad in the next room. For so long we harbored such quiet but affectionate mutual favoritism for one another among our ever-expanding circle of society.

This devastation carries not just the sting of the hopeful lover disappointed, but the nigh unbearable heartbreak of being by the closest and most beloved of friends so brutally injured.

I admitted to Scott that he was probably actually right, unless Sean could own the situation and everything he did wrong and give me a serious apology. To be frank, I wasn't going to hold my breath. The list of Sean's redeeming qualities is impressively long, but, based on what I perceived to be a good deal of callousness and lack of empathy while he was here visiting me, I wasn't terribly compelled to think I would ever hear an apology. He closed a part of himself off to me roughly two months ago, and I've had no reason to expect that to change. Furthermore, based on the three years I've known him, Sean doesn't really apologize for things. It's not that he's a jerk or overly proud or something, it's just that he is such an intensely pleasing person, and he is so good at placating people and smoothing ruffled feathers that I don't think he is ever really held accountable for much in the end. I highly doubt he realizes it, but I really think that's the case (and for what it's worth, Steph agrees with me on that).

The subject eventually got changed, and Scott proceeded to do the amazing things he will do in public to make his company so insanely uncomfortable and yet so remarkably amused. If there's one thing that guy knows how to do, it's break tension. He gets me laughing even when I don't want to, and he can get away with saying things to me that nobody else can.

When dinner was over and Scott was deposited back at his hotel, I had roughly a 40 minute drive back to Downers Grove. I couldn't stop thinking about what he had said about Sean and I's friendship. In all of this craziness I never considered it possible that, in the end, I might lose one of my best friends in the world. I guess I had told myself that I was stronger than that, and I still want desperately to believe that I am. Alone in my car, I was overwhelmed by the endless crescendo of pain and complication that has encased the past 7 months of my life, and I cried almost the entire way home.

What Else Should I Be? All Apologies...

2009-11-02T10:52:00.000-08:00

I have good reason to assume that pretty much no one reads this anymore, so I'm just going to go ahead and fill in the one or two people that I suspect DO in fact read it.

Steph and I finally talked on the phone, and it was really constructive. It was surreal to not have heard her voice for over two months. She was a daily part of my life for years, and even since leaving Monterey she has at least been a weekly part of my life. Of course, around the time I moved to Illinois I contacted her less and less as I let my guilt over my feelings for Sean eat me alive and drive a wedge into my friendship with Steph. Then when the truth came out and everything blew up in my face like I had known all along it would do... well, that was back in August. I can honestly say that that was one of the top 10 worst moments of my entire life so far.

Conversation was halting at first. Both of us were scared to death to hear the other's voice, and neither of us knew how to begin. I lamely asked, "How's it going?" We shot the bull for a few minutes, asking about work and living situations and things that we've honestly only known about according to what mutual friends have shared over the past couple of months. I don't remember how we transitioned to the subject that we both knew was waiting impatiently to be dealt with. I do remember delivering an extensive monologue, detailing a chronological summary of how I arrived at the decisions I arrived at--most importantly, why I didn't tell her what was going on until it was too late and she found out for herself, and how many of my actions were based on Sean's devastatingly careless behavior--culminating in the choked, tearful admission that, in a lot of ways, "I just don't know what happened...and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I find it fascinating how healing it is to verbally admit your guilt to the person you have wronged. Maybe it's simply because asking for forgiveness is the right thing to do, and it allows you to start forgiving yourself, which I tend to have a hard time with. I asked if she thought she could ever forgive me, even though I realize that it's probably way too soon to ask that question. She said, "I want to say that I can...but I don't think I'll ever forget."

I know too well what she's talking about...and it's that inability to forget that worries me. I think of my friendship with Jason Krach. I forgave that guy years ago, of course, but my inability to forget what he did to me and what the implications of that behavior are has tainted my perception of him and put to a very decisive death even the slightest inkling of desire for his friendship. I honestly want very little to do with him, even now. "Fool me once..." as they say. It's hard to accept that I might find out what the receiving end of that feels like, and that I will have thoroughly earned it if I do.

Still, we are at least on friendly terms again, and that in and of itself is a huge relief to me, even if the dearness of our past friendship never finds itself wholly restored. We talked for nearly two hours, and I think we bonded a little in finding a common enemy of sorts... We both were able to fill one another in on things that Sean had said to one of us but not the other, and each of us finally hearing those things long overdue shed quite a new light on aspects of all that has passed during these recent months. It was really difficult to hear some of what she had to say concerning Sean, and I knew the same was true for her of what I had to say.

I had known for several days, due to comments made to me by both Steph and Marc, that Sean had known that he wasn't going to see our potential relationship through for an undisclosed amount of time before he decided to clue me in. But talking to Steph on the phone that night, I realized just how much of a fool I had been made: she told me that, as they were taking a walk the day after she confronted me about my feelings for him--in August--he reassured her that he really didn't think anything was going to happen between us.

Well that's just fucking adorable.

He KNEW, and let me go on, hopeful and in love with him (yes, in love with him... I do not trifle with those words...) for over a month, choosing the night my family came into town to let me know that he was stepping on the brakes. How could I be expected to feel anything short of infuriated and completely destroyed? I thought back on the things I had said to him and the annoying questions I had asked him, all thinking that he had at least something resembling serious intentions. What utter humiliation to be allowed to go on the way I did. I thought back on the things he had initially said to me--the extensive reassurances about how he knew how difficult it was for me to trust guys beyond a certain point after my tumultuous friendship with Jonathan and the wonderful gem that was Jason Krach. He even brought David into it, recalling the way David had sent me very leading signals and then claimed he had no idea what I was talking about when I called him on all of it. Sean brought that up to reassure me that he wouldn't do that to me. Above all, he told me that he wanted me to know that, "my feelings for you are very sincere." I asked him what, if anything, he wanted to do about these mutual affections, and it was HIS idea to "see what happens," not mine. He started this shit, and then he was too much of a coward to put a stop to it.

Anyway...it was wonderful to talk with Steph, even if 70% of the conversation was each of us realizing that Sean has been a lot more responsible for our collective and personal turmoil than we were prepared to give him credit for. If nothing else, I'm just so relieved that I can see a tiny far-off light at the end of this fucking ENDLESS tunnel. I swear, walking around for months knowing that I hadn't done right by Steph has shaved at least a week off the end of my life, but now I don't have to feel that way any more, and I can start to put it behind me. All I can do now is try to be something like a decent friend and hope like hell that one day mine is a friendship she values again.

Now, of course, there stands glaring me in the face the painful task of moving past the wrongs I have only just realized Sean has committed against me. He and I had a long talk last night, and that excruciating healing process has now begun.

Unfortunately, I have to get back to work, so the next episode of this rediculosity (if that's not a word, it should be) will have to wait for another post. That works out well for the +/- 1 person reading this, though, because it gives you time to go find the original 90210 theme song so you can just listen to it on repeat the next time you read this melodramatic farce that I call my blog.

A Post Script

2009-10-27T09:43:00.001-07:00

...in which I remember that certain other parties have been just as confused and lost as myself. I was hurt by new information and angry over the fresh implications. I'm still hurt, but more confused than angry.

More than anything, I am remembering how baffling and weird this has been for all involved parties, and I'm doing my best to cut people some slack... I just wish that anyone--including myself--could do the same for me.

Here I Am, Seven Months Later

2009-10-26T11:53:00.000-07:00

Man... I am speechless.

Now that everything is said and done and the smoke is starting to clear a little... I just can hardly believe any of this has happened. I am exasperated at my own behavior, and yet when I think back on how it all happened... I can see how I arrived at the decisions I arrived at, for better or worse. There were so many variables, that I eventually lost track of them. I had to pick and choose what factors were going to influence my next step and then hope like hell that I was choosing correctly. Clearly, I was not, but I couldn't see that. I was too deep into the situation, too wrapped up in the possibilities, too paralyzed by my own confusion, my own fears... I've never been at such a total loss for such a length of time. I felt like I was a part of something that I had no power to stop, which is ridiculous, I know. I just reached a point where I felt trapped.

And now, realizing that the other responsible party was not speaking with any kind of premeditated clarity or conviction... I can hardly stomach how foolish I have been made to feel. I somehow assumed that that person understood that I was putting some incredibly important, invaluable things on the line, and that he would behave accordingly--i.e. acting with the utmost caution and deliberation. But he did not. I realize now that a good deal of things spoken to me were spoken out of emotion and immediacy, and once the mistake had been realized, he was too cowardly or maybe just too well-meaning to backpedal right away. (A note on cowardice vs. good intention: I have learned that one too often masquerades as the other, and I have far too often this year witnessed the ugly phenomenon within my own confused self.) Instead, he let things sit until the whole situation was twice as complicated as it had been before. I can't understand how he could let me make such a fool of myself. So many wounds could have been so much closer to healing by now if he could have been forthright with me like I have always asked. And yet, my indignation is forcibly silenced as I realize that now I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of this.

It's just incredible how quickly things gather momentum.

What a foreign sensation to know thoughts and sentiments inside of me that are so huge that I am afraid of expressing them--and it's not just fear--I honestly feel I don't know how to express them, and that in and of itself is foreign and nerve-wracking to me. I have a phone call that desperately wants to be made, but I am petrified to the point of inaction at the prospect of trying to force these enormous emotions out of such a little thing as myself, and in a manner that is in any way coherent, let alone meaningful to the one person it needs to be meaningful for.

I have never known such crippling remorse--such self-loathing at what I could inflict upon a loved one. And now my own heart has been broken, and I too feel misled, kept in the dark, and made a fool of. It's the most unsettling position I have ever found myself in. Equally hard to swallow is my sense that the other responsible party has already received his pardon. Perhaps this only shows my own immaturity, but I am sickened with the taking-on of this burden in full. I deserve so much blame, but I do not deserve all of it... there are so many decisions I would never have even had to make if certain people could have had their wits about them. If I had a one-track mind, it was because I at least knew what I wanted (though I didn't want all the very real consequences that were bound to accompany). I knew from the start that he didn't know what he wanted, and I was legitimately ok with that... I guess I just expected a bolder honesty (the same kind that I could not deliver).

Shame on me.

The Three Hour Tour

2009-10-13T22:18:00.000-07:00

I have now seen Relient K perform in 6 states, and I believe my total concert tally is a lucky 13.

I love Chicago (no secret there), and now I also love the House of Blues in Chicago. What a great venue. It's "intimate" as they say, and has a ton of character on the inside. What a classic. Sean and I intentionally arrived a little over an hour later than the listed showtime of 5:30--and, btw, 5:30?!? What the heck? Anyway, despite our purposeful tardiness we still saw Barcelona's last couple of songs and had to endure in its entirety the dreadful hipster monotony that was Copeland. I'm normally all about sitting through the opening bands, just to be a good sport if nothing else, but tonight I wasn't really in the mood for it--probably largely because I had Sean with me, and I knew the whole thing wasn't his cup of tea to begin with. I told him he didn't have to go, but after a 10-month-long no RK spell, I was long overdue for a fix and was determined to go no matter what. I must say, he was really a good sport about the whole thing.

Relient K took the stage with The One I'm Waiting For, followed immediately with Be My Escape, a combo which sounds all too natural given the order on the album. I must say that Thiessen's hair is in fine form lately. I don't think we've seen it this long since much younger and sillier (not to mention pop-punkier) days. He also was wearing the Matt Thiessen classic: PLAID. =)

We only heard 3 songs from the new album: Forget and Not Slow Down, I Don't Need a Soul, and Therapy. I love Forget..., but I wished we could have heard If You Believe Me, This is the End, or especially Savannah rather than the other two. Selections from Two Lefts... included Mood Rings and slightly truncated versions of Falling Out and Forward Motion, the latter of which I absolutely can't get enough of live, even though it's not really a highlight for me on the recording itself. We didn't hear anything from Anatomy, which didn't surprise or disappoint me terribly. My personal favorites were probably Devastation and Reform (another one that positively slays me live) and The Lining is Silver, which I hadn't even considered they might play and has been one of my recent favorites by them for the past year or so. Also from The Nashville Tennis E.P., they tackled Curl Up and Die (with Hoopes on acoustic guitar) beautifully during the encore.

Of course it wouldn't be Relient K without some kind of absurd middle eight, and since this was the Three Hour Tour and Matt had his piano decked out to look like a wooden raft (complete with S.S. Minnow life saver), they took a moment to play a couple of "islandy" songs. First they covered a Weezer song, and then Thiessen made some self-deprecating remarks and they launched into Under the Sea from The Little Mermaid. Oh, Matt... His cartoonish performance was both augmented and made excusable by the fact that he busted out a small steel drum on which to play the appropriate riff. He is such a delight.

What else, what else...? Ah yes, they closed out with Who I Am Hates Who I've Been, which got a tremendous response from the audience. We also heard a slightly altered version of Must Have Done Something Right (which was nice, as I had forgotten that song existed), Which to Bury..., Let It All Out, and The Thief.

It was a great performance, with tons of energy from all of the guys. My only substantial complaint is that the background vocals and harmonies were scarcely to be found! Apparently Matt Hoopes has been ill lately, so his voice was under the weather, but what about the other guys? Four mics should equal four voices! I think this was actually the least harmonizing and/or background vocals I've ever heard at an RK show, which I found sorely disappointing. Otherwise the only things I can really pick on were minor and out of their hands--i.e. I felt like the treble and especially Hoopes's guitar were far too quiet, and the bass too loud. Also, I wish all the damn kids wouldn't sing along so loudly. Haha, I know that makes me sound like a killjoy, and I sing along to every last note as well, but quietly, because I love Matt's voice and I want to HEAR it!

I suppose that's all I can say about it. It's ridiculous how much I love those boys. I always leave their shows with my heart positively warmed.

Oh, By the Way

2009-10-13T22:17:00.000-07:00

I feel before I proceed with further posts that I should mention that I am awesome and that I kick ass at getting over stuff.

So no worries for me, please. I am doing just fine. =)

Heartbreak, Take 2

2009-10-02T06:42:00.001-07:00

Well, what can I say? This one hurts a hell of a lot worse than David. But I sucked it up and got over David pretty damn fast, so just give me a month or two, and I'll be good to go again.

And hey, I am, after all, a glutton for life's many experiences, be they good or bad, and also for things that make me stronger. I really wasn't prepared to deal with this kind of pain while I'm trying to show my family around Chicago, but it will be fine--because it has to be. And that, my friends, is simply life.

"And with that in mind I close my eyes and kiss your cheek, push the loneliness aside and stand on shaky feet, then re-implant the smile that never really leaves, and gently place my heart back on my sleeve..."

"One morning I woke up and I knew you were really gone. A new day, a new way, and new eyes to see the dawn. Go your way, I'll go mine and carry on.

The sky is clearing and the night has cried enough. The sun, he comes, the world to soften up.
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice (but to carry on)."

I Made It!

2009-10-01T12:32:00.000-07:00

Ever since August I've been watching the calendar and thinking "If I can just make it through September..." Once I found a job I suspected that September would fly by, and I've woken up this morning to find that I was right!

My parents get into town tonight--or at least they're supposed to. Lacey and Adam are delayed by bad weather, so they are stuck in Spokane until tomorrow. All five of us haven't been together since the wedding last October, and I can't wait to show them Chicago! I'm especially excited for my mom to come here; she's never been this far East, and she's never been to a big city that wasn't L.A. or Denver or San Francisco (in short, a Western city... quite a different beast altogether).

The family's only here for a few short days, but hours after they leave on Monday, Sean arrives from California. For as many guests as Kelsey and I have had between Chicago and Nashville, almost every last one of them has been a guest of Kelsey's, so I'm really excited to have some friends and family of my own come to stay!

Then of course my birthday is on Tuesday, and Relient K has a new album releasing that day. Happy birthday, me! I'm hoping to go see them at the House of Blues on the 13th, so all in all...I'd say October has a lot to offer. =)

Even though it really did fly by, part of me still can't believe September has finally ended.

A Re-Opening of Sorts

2009-09-26T13:42:00.000-07:00

This blog has been sorely neglected for many weeks now. The primary reason is that a good deal of the thoughts and happenings with which I have been dealing are not subjects I felt I should write about in a medium that some certain friends have access to. Perhaps I flatter myself overly-much in thinking that anyone really frequents this blog to begin with, but... I felt a need for caution, or at least for sensitivity.

I still sense that same need, and yet I'm reaching a place where I feel like I have to press forward and resume my normal expressive habits sooner or later. There has to be some element of ease and natural liberty in my goings-on, however trivial, and while a blog is really not the beginning or end of my universe, it is a personal tool and canvas that I want to enjoy again as freely as I wish. To those who may be reading and knowing good and well that I am referring to them, I'm deeply sorrowful at the state our relationship is presently in, and I have long abstained from what I would perceive as pouring salt in an open wound by being in any way publicly expressive about my life at present. I've long been one to shy from drama and try to keep a lid on anything like controversy--but it's time for me to have some sense of normalcy again, and I feel at this point that it's only insulting to you (or anyone who chooses to take issue with me) to try and keep the issues at hand invisible.

With that as my disclaimer and even apology, I will now be moving on.

A Dream

2009-09-23T20:58:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a dream in which I suddenly happened to notice that I was several months pregnant, which really surprised me and also really bummed me out. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about having babies and stuff, but with my overly-deliberate personality, accidental pregnancy is seriously one of my worst fears EVER. What was really mind-boggling, aside from the fact that I had been pregnant for quite some time without noticing, was how I even got pregnant to begin with, what with my whole habit of not sleeping with people.

About halfway through the dream I somehow magically realized that the father was Derek Tekus, but then I was REALLY baffled, because I could not for the life of me figure out how or WHY that could have happened. (For those lacking context, Derek is a friend of mine from CSUMB who is now Sean's room mate in L.A.) I remember trying to think back to when was the last time I had even seen him (which was, incidentally, May...so actually that would be roughly appropriate timing) and WHAT ON EARTH had happened that I had clearly forgotten about. Haha.

Anyway...all I can say is that I was terribly, terribly relieved to wake up and NOT have people living inside of me.

Emma

2009-09-21T10:23:00.001-07:00

She could not be complying, she dreaded being quarrelsome; her heroism reached only to silence. (p.108)

To youth and natural cheerfulness [...], though under temporary gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring return of spirits. The youth and cheerfulness of morning are in happy analogy, and of powerful operation; and if the distress be not poignant enough to keep the eyes unclosed, they will be sure to open to sensation of softened pain and brighter hope. (p. 132)

It is such happiness when good people get together--and they always do. (p. 169)

Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interesting situations, that a young person, who either marries or dies, is sure to be kindly spoken of. (p. 175)

"She appeared to me to play well , that is, with considerable taste, but I know nothing of the matter myself.--I am excessively fond of music, but without the smallest skill or right of judging of any body's performance.--I have been used to hear hers admired; and I remember one proof of her being thought to play well:--a man, a very musical man, and in love with another woman--engaged to her--on the point of marriage--would yet never ask that other woman to sit down to the instrument, if the lady in question could sit down instead--never seemed to like to hear one if he could hear the other. That, I thought, in a man of known musical talent, was some proof."

"Proof indeed!" said Emma, highly amused.--"Mr. Dixon is very musical, is he? We shall know more about them all, in half an hour, from you, than Miss Fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year."

"Yes, Mr. Dixon and Miss Campbell were the persons; and I thought it a very strong proof."

"Certainly--very strong it was; to own the truth, a great deal stronger than, if I had been Miss Campbell, would have been at all agreeable to me. I could not excuse a man's having more music than love--more ear than eye--a more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to my feelings. How did Miss Campbell appear to like it?"

"It was her very particular friend, you know."

"Poor comfort!" said Emma, laughing. "One would rather have a stranger preferred than one's very particular friend--with a stranger it might not recur again--but the misery of having a very particular friend always at hand, to do every thing better than one does oneself! Poor Mrs. Dixon! Well, I am glad she is gone to settle in Ireland."

"You are right. It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell; but she really did not seem to feel it."

"So much the better--or so much the worse--I do not know which. But be it sweetness or be it stupidity in her--quickness of friendship or dullness of feeling--there was one person, I think, who must have felt it: Miss Fairfax herself. She must have felt the improper and dangerous distinction.

"As to that--I do not--"

"Oh! do not imagine that I expect an account of Miss Fairfax's sensations from you, or from any body else. They are known to no human being, I guess, but herself. But if she continued to play whenever she was asked by Mr. Dixon, one may guess what one chuses."

"There appeared such a perfectly good understanding among them all--" he began rather quickly, but checking himself, added, "however, it is impossible for me to say on what terms they really were--how it might all be behind the scenes. I can only say that there was smoothness outwardly." (pgs. 194-195)

A mind lively and at ease, can do with seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not answer. (p. 225)

" 'There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart, ' said she afterwards to herself. 'There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness of heart, with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all the clearness of head in the world, for attraction.' " (p. 259)

"I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate circumstances do sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannot imagine them to be very frequent. A hasty and imprudent attachment may arise--but there is generally time to recover from it afterwards. I would be understood to mean, that it can only be weak, irresolute characters, (whose happiness must be always at the mercy of chance,) who will suffer an unfortunate acquaintance to be an inconvenience, an oppression for ever." (-Jane Fairfax, p. 361-362)

How to Spend the Day

2009-09-02T10:46:00.000-07:00

Off work, just got done fighting with the corporate bastards at Dish Network, sitting in my gold reading chair in my colorful room, in my comfy clothes, drinking hot cocoa, reading The Wind in the Willows.
I can see trees if I look up or to the left.
Om mani padme hum.

The Wind in the Willows

2009-08-30T16:13:00.000-07:00

The Rat was sitting on the river bank, singing a little song. He had just composed it himself, so he was very taken up with it, and would not pay proper attention to Mole or anything else. Since early morning he had been swimming in the river, in company with his friends the ducks. And when the ducks stood on their heads suddenly, as ducks will, he would dive down and tickle their necks, just under where their chins would be if ducks had chins, till they were forced to come to the surface again in a hurry, spluttering and angry and shaking their feathers at him, for it is impossible to say quite all you feel when your head is under water.

At last they implored him to go away and attend to his own affairs and leave them to mind theirs. So the Rat went away, and sat on the river bank in the sun, and made up a song about them, which he called "Ducks' Ditty".

All along the backwater,
Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!
etc. etc.

"I don't know that I think so very much of that little song, Rat," observed the Mole cautiously. He was no poet himself and didn't care who knew it; and he had a very candid nature.

"Nor the ducks neither," replied the Rat cheerfully. "They say, 'Why can't fellows be allowed to do what they like when they like and as they like, instead of other fellows sitting on banks and watching them all the time and making remarks and poetry and things about them? What nonsense it all is!' That's what the ducks say."

"So it is, so it is," said the Mole, with great heartiness.

"No, it isn't!" cried the Rat indignantly.

"Well then, it isn't, it isn't," replied the Mole soothingly. But what I wanted to ask you was, won't you take me to call on Mr. Toad? I've heard so much about him, and I do so want to make his acquaintance."

"Why, certainly," said the good-natured Rat, jumping to his feet and dismissing poetry from his mind for the day. (pp 25-27)

When they got home, the Rat made a bright fire in the parlour, and planted the Mole in an armchair in front of it, having fetched down a dressing-gown and slippers for him, and told him river stories till supper-time. Very thrilling stories they were, too, to an earth-dwelling animal like Mole. Stories about weirs, and sudden floods, and leaping pike, and steamers that flung hard bottles--at least bottles were certainly flung, and from steamers, so presumably by them; and about herons, and how particular they were whom they spoke to; and about adventures down drains, and night-fishings with Otter, or excursions far afield with Badger. Supper was a most cheerful meal; but very shortly afterwards a terribly sleepy Mold had to be escorted upstairs by his considerable host, to the best bedroom, where he soon laid his head on his pillow in great peace and contentment, knowing that his new-found friend the River was lapping the sill of his window.

This day was only the first of many similar ones for the emancipated Mole, each of them longer and fuller of interest as the ripening summer moved onward. He learnt to swim and to row, and entered into the joy of running water, and with his ear to the reed-stems he caught, at intervals, something of what the wind went whispering so constantly among them. (pp 23-24)

The weary Mole also was glad to turn in without delay, and soon had his head on his pillow, in great joy and contentment. But ere he closed his eyes he let them wander round his old room, mellow in the glow of the firelight that played or rested on familiar and friendly things which had long been unconsciously a part of him, and now smilingly received him back, without rancour. He was now in just the frame of mind that the tactful Rat had quietly worked to bring about in him. He saw clearly how plain and simple--how narrow, even--it all was, but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him, and the special value of some such anchorage in one's existence. He did not at all want to abandon the new life and its splendid spaces, to turn his back on sun and air and all they offered him and creep home and stay there; the upper world was all too strong, it called to him still, even down there, and he knew he must return to the larger stage. But it was good to think he had this to come back to, this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome. (p. 82)

"And you, you will come too, young brother; for the days pass, and never return, and the South still waits for you. Take the Adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes! 'Tis but a banging of the door behind you, a blithesome step forward, and you are out of the old life and into the new! Then someday, someday long hence, jog home here if you will, when the cup has been drained and the play has been played, and sit down by your quiet river with a store of goodly memories for company." (p.138)

Closer to Fine

2009-08-27T23:15:00.000-07:00

I started my new job on Monday, and so far I think I will like it just fine. It's a veterinary clinic in a nearby town called Wheaton. They're actually going to pay me decently (for a vet clinic, anyway) and even give me some benefits, both of which are terribly difficult to find in the veterinary field. I think they're impressed with me so far, which is always a nice feeling. On my very first day I returned from lunch, and one of the doctors asked if I could help her take an x-ray. I hadn't been familiarized at all yet with their machine or processor, but I just winged it, and the x-ray came out absolutely perfect on the first try. That turned out to be mostly dumb luck, as the machine, I have found, is a totally unreliable piece of crap. But hey, it still made an impression, so that was a very satisfying moment. Yesterday was my third day and I pretty much took over running Dr. Borowiak's appointments and actually had things going fairly smoothly, considering I have yet to learn all the finer ins and outs of the system.

So YES, I finally have a freaking JOB, and so far so good! =)

There is also a church I have gone to 3 times now, and every time I have attended it has been a thoroughly positive experience for me. What a relief, and what a joy! The way I came to find it was so out of the blue, too...

Back when Jonathan was visiting, he and I were at the Brookfield Zoo, along with Kelsey. We went into a little out-of-the-way shelter where you can sit and watch the African Wild Dogs, and there was a young couple with their adorable baby also sitting in there to watch the dogs. As we shared our appreciative, witty comments about the animals, I found myself thinking "I want to be friends with you people." I asked if they were from around there (so many visitors to the Brookfield Zoo are not from the area, or even the country), and they said that they were from Wheaton. Their names were Pat (who was wearing cargo shorts and a safari hat) and Ari (who was wearing a dress that looked like it was made of hemp), and their way-too-cute baby's name was Ace. When I said that Kelsey and I lived in Downers Grove, Pat said that he used to go to church there. Jackpot! Or, potential jackpot...

I asked him where he had gone to church, and it happened to be the little Russian church just down the road from me that I went to a couple of times when we first moved here. I asked where they went to church now and told them just a little bit about my in-and-out-of-church experiences of the past year and a half. They told me about their church in Wheaton, saying that it was kind of a collection of off-beat people, many of whom didn't feel like they fit in with the church. It's also a church that places a significant amount of focus on serving the community around them and being genuinely invested in the lives of others, just as Christ was. They actually forgo one Sunday morning meeting per month and instead provide multiple opportunities for everyone to get involved with some sort of service activity on that day.

I've only been able to attend 3 times since meeting Pat and Ari at the zoo (what with going to New Mexico and all that), but each of those times I have left the service with a full heart and a relieved, easy joy.

Of the many issues that have weighed upon my heart and made my daily life a struggle to find balance, some have altogether disappeared (like my unemployment) while others have simply changed and progressed, for better or worse. And though there are still things that are yet unresolved and there are still areas of pain, I can honestly say that I have finally found peace within myself. I haven't known peace for nearly half of a year, and man.... that will wear you down and empty you out. The great thing about time is that it always passes, no matter what you do. Resolution always comes, even if it doesn't look like what you expected or hoped it would.

I can't say that everything is perfect now (when can it ever be, after all?), but things certainly seem to be looking up, and thank God for that.

2009: Act Two

2009-08-21T11:33:00.001-07:00

If New Mexico was an intermission from this shitty, painful year, then certainly my return to Illinois has commenced Act Two.

This act, thus far, seems promising.

There Is a Run-On Sentence in This Post

2009-08-08T20:56:00.000-07:00

...but I'm not going to tell you where.

Remember the U-Haul Meets the Deer fiasco back in June? And remember how I had mentioned how insanely stressful everything was and how incompetent the U-Haul employees in TN had been? Well, one little detail I pointedly left out was the fact that due to all that stress and incompetence, I had negligently declined to pay for insurance on the truck. HAH. I could not BELIEVE how stupid I felt for that one. I normally think better of things like that, honestly.

Anyway, the reason I bring that little adventure up again is because I have been in agony waiting to find out what the damages were going to cost me. There were already the up-front charges of having to have the windshield replaced and having to unexpectedly stay in a hotel for two nights, but I figured that was only going to be the beginning of my woes. Well, a few weeks ago I finally got a letter from U-Haul's insurance company asking me to pay up. And you know what the grand total was? ...............$22.40

Seriously. That's less than HALF of what I would have had to pay if I HAD taken the insurance to begin with (I mean, windshield and hotel costs excluded...). So, man, what a huge relief! Thanks, God and U-Haul's insurance company!

It felt SO GOOD to finally be cut a break!

I guess I should mention a few other things since it's been nearly a month since my last post.

The job that appeared to be falling into my lap fell through at the last possible moment, so now I am completely back to square one, headed out Monday morning to apply to a dozen more vet's offices. I may have another prospect (I went to an interview on Thursday) that I REALLY do not want, but I would be wise to take it at least for some temporary income, until I can find something better. I'm going out of my mind with understimulation now that I haven't worked in 2 1/2 months. Oh yeah, and my money's running out. There's that, too...

In other news, Kelsey and Jonathan are official now, and they are FANTASTIC. Watching their relationship unfold so far is like watching a well-oiled machine. I could never have guessed at just how utterly perfect they seem to be for one another thus far. I realize it is still very early yet, and who knows what the future will hold, but I rarely see anyone click like they are clicking. The few times I have seen it, it certainly lasted. Here's hoping. =)

I spent 10 days in New Mexico--and actually just returned Wednesday morning--and many delightful adventures were had there. This summer in Illinois has been trying and, frequently, unseasonably cold, so my week and a half of non-stop GO in New Mexico was like a little slice of super-condensed summer vacation. It did me good.

I got tons of sun and explored ancient ruins bare-foot and swam in the river and jumped off a bridge with Marc and spent quality time with dear friends and introduced them to the Southwest and hung out with my family and found out my dog is a terrible swimmer but a lot of fun and slept on the floor and did LOTS of driving through the desert and went to the Bar D and realized how well I'm starting to get along with kids and had Pinot Grigio and found out I love it and had my mom's awesome potato soup and spinach/artichoke lasagna and shot guns and found New Mexican secrets I'd never experienced before and re-connected with a very old friend and broadened my horizons and played MarioKart with Steph and "earned" my Junior Rangers Badge from the Aztec Ruins and thought about my life and had important conversations and heard some beautiful music and watched the culture shock on others' faces and went to a kick-ass rodeo and experienced a little culture shock myself and went four-wheeling like a teen-ager and smelled the desert just before the rain and widened my love for Colorado and remembered how insanely fast my skin gets dark and stood dumb-founded with chilled bones in the midst of 53 caged howling wolves and walked over ancient lava beds and marveled at nature's peculiarities and took my poor car on the oil field roads and realized just how incredible-looking horses in the Southwest can be and counted the wild dogs in Shiprock and drove for 23.5 hours non-stop, both there and back, and marveled that Trillian never tossed her cookies a single time and slept in a place that was very out of my comfort zone and marveled anew at the lowliness of Reservation life and bought pottery from Shush Yaz and got just a little bit violated by my dad's creepy cousin who definitely married my dad's other cousin from the same side of the family and ran unexpectedly into my aunt and uncle at my old church and went to lunch with a family of very old friends and thought about my life some more and tried to rescue Kelsey from her bat-shit crazy family reunion and walked around the moon-lit orchard where I used to play as a child and had a good conversation with a friend I wished could have been there and didn't sleep enough and went to Santa Fe and met my sister's best friend and went to a museum I hadn't seen to since I was a child and found out it's pretty freakin' sweet and made a fool of myself and saw a lady in the plaza with a Bald Eagle on her arm and felt pierced to the soul when I looked at the focused wildness in its eyes and remembered how much I love the vibe of Santa Fe and loved the artists and artisans and played one hole of frisbee golf and got beaned in the shin with a mid-ranger and ran in the rain at the base of a volcano and thought about geology and touched ancient ice and broke the law in so doing and climbed barbed-wire fences and got cheat-grass in my shoes and overall just had a real groovy time.

Now if anyone wants to know anything more specific about any one or more of those things, all you have to do is ask about them. And if you say you want to know more about "all if it" I won't answer you. =)

Well, That Ought to About Do It.

2009-07-16T13:17:00.000-07:00

I had mentioned before that my friendship with Jonathan has been on shaky legs for the past year, and of course his visit here was off to a rocky start for me. But then, as you hopefully gathered fro the post below, I adjusted to the new dynamic of things and had quite a bit of fun for the next few days that he was here. However, I've only ever been able to take so much of that boy at a time, and 10 days is such a very long time for someone to be in my house that I'm not entirely comfortable around... and it was starting to take its toll by Tuesday (day 9).

I had text messaged Kelsey, saying something about how I was ready for him to go home, and she texted me back asking me what happened. I said, "He stresses me out. I'm just not at ease around him. I never have been. And he was teasing Orli too much earlier. It actually made me a little mad." And somehow, in all my infinite awesomeness, I accidentally sent that to JONATHAN instead of to KELSEY.

He was sitting in the dining room (I in the living room) and he said "um....I think you sent this text message to the wrong place."

And oh how I wished I would just die, right then and there. I've lived a long, full life, right?

Into the City

2009-07-11T18:06:00.000-07:00

Alright, well.

We intended to catch the 9:45 train into the city, but I made us late because I didn't realize how long it would take to find parking. We sat down in Caribou Coffee to wait for the next train and in the meantime ended up talking to a delightful fellow for a while. We mostly talked about places we'd lived and what they were like. He of course couldn't possibly see the attraction to an area like Downers Grove, especially when we had lived in the Southwest. It's interesting how much people tend to devalue wherever they're from simply because it's where they're from. He was lovely though; I really really like people around here.

By 10:45 we were on the next Chicago-bound train, which was exciting in and of itself for a transit-deprived Westerner like me. We passed through Cicero, and I realized how absurd it is that I've lived here for over a month now, and I still associate Joliet with Jake Blues, Aurora with Wayne's World, and Cicero with the Cell Block Tango...but I kinda like it that way... =)

As we neared the city, the train ducked under ground and all I saw were subway walls until we pulled into Union Station several minutes later. Exiting the train, we found our way through the station, up some stairs, and emerged in the heart of the big city. It really is breath-taking. We walked along the canal, headed for the el-train so we could get to our next destination. The canal is wonderful, somehow having been re-routed to flow away from the lake instead of naturally into it. The draw bridges were up, letting boats and barges pass underneath while herds of pedestrians gathered and waited for the bridges to lower and allow them into the rest of the city.

First off we went to Michigan Avenue, and on the way passed an awesome little Thai festival that (little did I know) was in the courtyard of the Daley Center. (We watched The Blues Brothers a couple of days later and I recognized the big metal horsey sculpture, and suddenly realised I'd been RIGHT there and didn't know it!) We went to Millennium Park and checked out The Bean, which is really impressive for how simple it seems.
After some searching and feeling out the system we found ourselves on the proper el-train to Argyle. That area is a predominantly southeast Asian neighborhood, and there is a restaurant called Tank Noodles that is one of my absolute favorite restaurants ever. (Mmm, I miss El Rincon.) Unfortunately, it was closed, but we strolled around the neighborhood (pit-stopping at a Borders, naturally) until we found some Ethiopian food.

I'd never eaten Ethiopian food before, and it was awesome! They bring you a large platter of mashed up food and a lot of thin doughy bread, and you use the bread to pick up whatever globs sound yummy to you. It was all excellent. We had potatoes with carrots, lentils, yellow peas, cabbage, and...it seems like there was one other thing, but I can't remember what. I don't really know how exactly they mash and cook and season everything, but it's really wonderful.

After lunch we boarded another el and went up to Wilmete to see the Baha'i House of Worship.
"The essential message of Bahá’u’lláh is that of unity. He taught that there is only one God, that there is only one human race, and that all the world’s religions represent stages in the revelation of God’s will and purpose for humanity."

There are only seven Baha'i temples in the world, and the one in Wilmete is the one temple on the North Ameican continent. It's incredibly beautiful, both inside and out (though taking photos inside was not allowed).

By this point we were right on the lake, so we went to the shore to sit and try to understand that we were looking at Lake Michigan and not the ocean! I took lots of pictures of Kelsey and Jonathan being near each other--the romantic tension that had yet to culminate in anything visible was getting pretty thick by this point.

I was having a lot of fun. The first two days of J's trip (Sunday and Monday) I was pretty 50/50 about things...half the time being normal and happy and half the time being really uncomfortable with the whole thing. By Tuesday my state of mind had improved considerably to 80/20, and by the next day when we went into the city, I was perfectly fine at 90/10 or maybe even 95/5. ...if that is even making sense anymore.

I kept waiting for them to link arms or for him to put his arm around her on the train or SOMETHING! He obviously thought about it several times but apparently would always chicken out. I love watching people in that state, everybody holding their breath but nobody acknowledging it. It can be frustrating as hell when you're the one in the situation, thinking, "When is this guy going to man up and make a move?" but it's so golden. It's so very very torturous and golden. Can you blame me for taking pictures of it??

After we'd had our fill of the shore, (it's nice to know there's a place I can go to hear the sound of waves on sand) we headed back to the el and went up to Evanston. We hurriedly ate some delicious Thai food before going into the back room of a restaurant for an absolutely splendid concert.

If you've never heard of Loudon Wainwright III, perhaps you've heard of Rufus Wainwright, who is his son. Regardless, Loudon is a folk singer who has been around since the early '70s or something, and Kelsey just got me listening to him a little over a year ago. He's really different, very off-beat, and extremely talented. I didn't quite know what to make of him the first few times I listened to him, but the more I hear him the more I absolutely adore the man.

I haven't been to many concerts in the past year, and I was almost starting to forget how much they mean to me. I had foregone most of the opening act's set (Sons of the Nevermore) in order to talk to Sean on the phone for a few minutes, and I didn't realize how much I was internalizing his stress and problems until I took my seat and absolutely melted at the sound of good bluegrass. It's incredible the way a complex system of sounds can make you feel like none of your problems matter anymore.

Loudon was fantastic. He's so raw and witty and cynical and blunt, and he turns it all into this very easy, untidy art that really gets under your skin. He is an unrefined master of the human experience, even if it is simply by virtue of being human. Even when he played songs I'd never heard before, I found myself completely hanging on his every word. There's just something about that guy.

Perhaps my favorite aspect of the show was the fact that it meant so incredibly much to Kelsey. Loudon Wainwright (III) has come to mean a lot to her, since she started listening to him during the biggest transition of her life. She and I have had many conversations in which I try to explain why concerts are the best thing EVER, and she tells me that she understands but just doesn't relate for some reason. But after this show....well, now she gets it. =)

After the show she met Loudon and he signed a cd for her (and one for Phyllis as a birthday present--Phyllis couldn't be there because she recently had foot surgery and is on bedrest) and she gave him a hug. I love love love being around for those kinds of moments. She was absolutely beaming.

On the el, heading back toward the heart of the city so we could catch the Metra train back to the suburbs, I kept silently ridiculing Jonathan for almost putting an arm around Kelsey and then never following through. But finally, on the last connection of our journey back to Union Station, he quietly rested a hand on her leg. Then, when we got off the el and went walking to Union Station, they held hands. My insides were secretly doing a crazy victory dance. =)
The fell asleep together on the ride home, and I gave them fair warning that I would totally be putting this on the internet:

Anyway, the whole day was really a blast, and we finally dragged ourselves into the house around 1:30 AM.

Nice to meet you, Chicago. I think we'll be friends.

After I Get Some Sleep

2009-07-09T03:18:00.000-07:00

Coming soon:

A blog about a fantastic day in the city and a fantastic concert to top it off!
Did Stacey finally stop being such a freakin' baby?
Did Jonathan finally put the moves on Kelsey?
Did Kelsey finally try to rob several banks along Michigan Avenue?

Check back very soon and FIND OUT!

I've Always Hated Hanging Out in Odd Numbers...

2009-07-06T18:15:00.000-07:00

Ugh, I am crazy sick today. Kelsey was just about dying over the weekend, and now it has passed on to me. Fortunately, for as severe as it was, it passed pretty quickly for Kels, so I am hoping it will pass quickly for me too.

It's convenient, in a way, that I am so sick today though, because it's been the perfect excuse for Jonathan and Kelsey to have total one-on-one time without me buzzing around pointlessly. I really feel like Jonathan could hardly care less whether I'm here or not--and not that that's entirely his own fault: I haven't made myself particularly available to him since I decided about a year ago that that friendship was not worth the amount of heartache it inevitably caused me over and over again. He's just so damn careless, which is weird, because in so many ways he is an incredibly considerate person. I think it just boils down to a fundamental incompatibility between us, no matter how much we like each other's personalities.

So yeah, Jonathan and Kelsey are having a wonderful time so far and are as infatuated with one another as can be, as far as I can tell. I'm definitely jealous that they are able to have a functional friendship, and jealous that he likes Kelsey better than he likes me, and jealous that Kelsey gets to have such a fun time and have all this uncertainty and potential romance. I probably wouldn't care nearly as much if I had anything even vaguely resembling A LIFE, but alas...patience is still the only answer.

Not that I feel all jealous and annoyed and babified 100% of the time, either. I honestly would be really excited if something happened between them, because they just might be really good for each other. I'm also excited that Kelsey gets to have a fun friend here and have all that fun "what is he thinking?" stuff buzzing around her head. I'm just NOT excited that I get to spend the next 9 days as a total third wheel.

Why is 2009 So Awkward, All the Time?

2009-07-05T16:07:00.000-07:00

So Jonathan is here to visit us for the next 10 days, and by "us" I mean Kelsey.
I honestly think it would be really awesome if the two of them got together someday, but still, I'm only human, and given the very up-and-down history Jonathan and I have, I can't help but wonder if this is going to be a fantastically awkward week and a half...

They're currently out renting a movie, which errand I was not invited on, even though Kelsey took my car. I'm not actually that butthurt about it, and I'm sure the only reason Kelsey didn't invite me is because she's really self-concious about asking me to drive her places (she hasn't had a car since her wreck and, up until today, has been too scared to drive anyone else's car). Still, I can't help but wonder if the whole trip is going to be full of me feeling left out--and yet, given the choice, I would probably exclude myself from certain activities anyway.

Honestly, I think I wouldn't be entirely comfortable with this trip no matter what either of them did, and I may as well be happy that those two get on so well. I am really battling to be a good person and choose the side of me that thinks this is all very fun that these two people from two very different aspects of my life are interested in each other. The other side of me, unfortunately, is a big stupid baby, and feels left out (nothing about this trip had anything to do with me) and jealous of their new fun friendship.

Anyway, I'm going to watch Slumdog Millionaire with the lovebirds. I will be fine, and I know I will manage to keep up a good attitude in the end. Just....tough to be human sometimes, that's all. =)

Oh, Paul...

2009-07-02T15:27:00.001-07:00

London Town just might be the best rainy day album EVER.
Too bad it's not raining. =)

"Rejoice, rejoice -- we have no choice (but to carry on)"

2009-06-30T12:17:00.000-07:00

Last week was not a good week, and last Friday was not a good day. I bottomed out on Friday--a culmination of too much emotional exhaustion that has been snowballing since the day I moved to Nashville, with some miserable miscellany thrown on top. There are a lot of things I could say about Friday, but I will keep it short and say this: I finally got mad.

I finally got mad that I was feeling so horrible, that I had such hateful, angry feelings toward myself, that I had hit such a low point, that the only thing I can do about the things making me so upset is wait for them to change. I feel like I have been doing my best and giving it all I've got, and it made me mad that that is obviously not enough. I also thought that, because I usually just kick my problems' asses and then move on, that maybe just this once I was entitled to a little weakness, just for a little while. Apparently that's not the case, and I have felt more or less reprimanded by more than one friend whose opinion I respect.

So you know what? I'm fed up with all of this. I have better things to do than sit around and be sad and worry about how I'm going to fix everything for everyone (including myself). That is so not my job, and no one expects it to be. If all I can do about my current problems is wait, then I may as well not think about them while the time is passing. You can only be upset about something for so long before you may as well just say, "oh well," and go do something else to pass the time. Even if those problems affect virtually every aspect of your life (like, for example, being lonely), seriously... oh well. Sometimes you don't have any other options, so just move along.

So even though I don't know how I could possibly do any of this any better, I just will, because apparently I have to. So far it's working out pretty well.

One morning I woke up and I knew you were really gone
A new day, a new way, I knew I should see it along
Go your way, I'll go mine and carry on

The fortunes of fables are able to sing the song
Now witness the quickness with which we get along
To sing the blues you've got to live the tunes and
Carry on

When Did I Become Such a Pansy?

2009-06-26T17:53:00.000-07:00

I haven't had much to say on here recently. At first it was because I was busy, but now it's because I've been battling being down lately, and it makes me not want to write. Writing when I feel crappy just makes me feel like a whiner. I'm feeling really lonely lately, and there are certain issues crushing my heart that I am finding it downright impossible to get out from under. I remember living in the Portola house, where my biggest struggle was surviving school and work with the little time for sleep all my awesome friends and fun times left me. I remember thinking about how insanely happy I was, and thinking, "Man, what goes up must come down...life works in cycles, and I am probably due for some much harder times than these in the near future."

I wasn't kiddin'.

Our Not-So-Smooth Move

2009-06-23T08:23:00.000-07:00

Well I guess I should probably mention that I've moved, though I think everyone knows that by now anyway. For as heartily as Illinois seemed to be welcoming us (what with this incredible house and Kelsey's job just falling right into our laps), it turned into a bit of a rocky transition.

First off, moving always turns into more than you were bargaining for, and despite the best laid plans, we were up nearly the entire night before our move. The people at the U-Haul place in Madison were either very incompetent or having a VERY bad (read: retarded) day, and we didn't get our truck until about 5 hours later than we had planned. I won't go into all the details of how incredibly stupid our experience was there, but let's just say that the complaint I left on the "how did we do?" survey earned me an apologetic phone call and 25$ coupon from the manager. Haha.

I also won't go into all the details about our psychotic ex-landlady, but I assure you, it was SO MUCH FUN dealing with her.

Anyway, we did finally get on the road after a lovely Olive Garden lunch with the fantastically wonderful Betsy Wesson. Kelsey drove the U-Haul (her car was already in Downers Grove from her drive up a month previous) and I followed behind in my car. Everything went great for the first 5 hours or so, until right around dusk. The sunset in the flat middle of IL was really beautiful, and I had glanced to the left to look briefly at it--when I looked back, a deer was leaping up to try and clear the cab of the U-Haul in front of me. Before I could even register what was happening, the deer disappeared in front of the truck and then immediately reappeared, about 20 feet in the air, flipping end over end. Yes--20 feet, straight up. Apparently being struck by a giant truck going 70 mph will do that. It was truly one of the most amazing things I have ever seen, and once the stunned awe wore off, I felt vaguely sick, but quickly shook that off once I realized that I had no idea how much damage the truck had sustained and if Kelsey was ok. I knew that if she had been injured it couldn't be too bad, because the truck still appeared to be under perfect control. A moment later her hazard lights came on and we managed to get through to each other on the phone. (I had already tried calling her once but didn't get through, presumably because she was simultaneously trying to call me.)

The truck had completely shut down, and she was now just coasting, trying to find a safe place to pull off the road before she slowed to a total stop. We were in the left lane, and the passenger-side mirror had gone flying along with the deer, so she couldn't see anything on that side of her vehicle, which meant exiting was not an option in the limited amount of time she had left. She pulled off to the left, and I in my confusion pulled off to the right. Once I ran across the road and ascertained that Kelsey and Rugby (her cat) were ok, I ran back to my car to move it to a safer location. Having a U Haul off one side of the road and my piddly little car off the other side just seemed like we were asking for more trouble. I took the next exit and had to drive in a big loop to get back to where Kelsey was, passing by where we had just driving. I found giant side-view mirror first, off the left hand side. Then, like 50 feet later I passed something that looked vaguely like it had once been an animal, clear off the right side of the road (it had been hit in the left lane.... seriously, that deer FLEW). Brutal!

Anyway, to sum up the rest, the windshield was ruined, the cab was sprayed with glass, the mirror was gone, the door was dented up, the hood cracked, the side of the truck splattered with surprised deer poop, and bits of fur stuck in every crack and crevice there was. I can not BELIEVE that turned out as well as it did. Hitting an animal that large at 70 mph is pretty serious, and I am so surprised that Kelsey was unscathed. (Rugby was also fine, though when we pulled him out of his little kitty carrier his fur was shimmering, it was so full of broken glass particles.) The windshield seemed to have taken the brunt of the force, as the deer was trying to jump OVER the cab (that's one more poor judgement gene that will not be passed down thanks to that evening). If that had been a buck, the antlers would have torn right through the plastic that holds the glass in place, and suddenly that would have been a very different situation. Furthermore, if the deer had hit the windshield feet-first instead of back-first, that would have been a very different situation. All things considered, we came out pretty lucky on that one. Major props to Kelsey, too. She saw the deer about 2 seconds before the impact--just enough time to wish it would change its mind, and just enough time to realize that she could NOT swerve to try to miss it. Thank goodness for her iron will, or she would have rolled that 12-ft-high truck so fast it's not even funny.

So we were stuck in a hotel in Mattoon, IL for a couple days. Both of us were horrendously sleep-deprived, and for some reason the cats were really stressed out and would NOT let us sleep. We eventually put them all in their little carriers and made them sleep in the car. Of course, we still had to get up early to bring them back in before the day got hot, so we still didn't get much rest. We had the U-Haul's windshield replaced, but in order to have a new mirror attached we would have to wait at least 3 more days. We were so sick of not being at our destination that we decided to just wing it.

I drove the U-Haul (and it turns out that driving a big truck is really fun!) with VERY limited rear-view, and Kelsey drove my car behind me. We pretty much just never changed lanes, and when it couldn't be avoided, Kelsey and I got on the phone and she told me when I was all clear. Moving a truck that big into the next lane of traffic when you only have 1/4 of the rearview you are used to is incredibly counter-intuitive, let me tell you. But we made it that last three hours without incident, and Phyllis and Jim helped us unload our truck. They even unloaded like half of our stuff FOR us while our new neighbors fed Kelsey and I dinner. It was SUCH a relief to be home, even faced with the daunting task of unpacking and re-organizing everything.

Our house and our beautiful backyard full of wildlife are wonderful. The dogs have never been happier, Orli and Boromir are as happy as they used to be in the Portola House, and Winter is almost as happy as she used to be. (She's happiest when there are lots of people around--particularly guys for some reason, the little hussy-- so I just need to get some friends in here!) I will post pictures if I can EVER find my stupid camera cord.

Anyway, all's well that ends well, except when your room mate gets in a horrendous life-threatening car accident five days later.

Yeah, that was awesome. Kelsey got broad-sided in her Explorer; it flipped, rolled, and then slid on the driver's side (chewing her arm up rather nicely and causing her to have to tie her jacket around it to try to keep at least some of her blood actually IN her body). Fortunately, the impact was on the passenger's side, and fortunately, I wasn't with her like I was supposed to be. It was the first day it had been warm enough for her to not want to take her dogs with her, too, miraculously. The impact was so hard that it actually broke her axle. If I'd been with her I probably would have been killed (I'm so amazed that she didn't die), and her dogs most certainly would have been killed if they had been there.

Even the EMTs were surprised that she was alive when they got there. She didn't even have a broken bone, and she never lost consciousness. The craziest shit happens to that girl.... it's like the universe is not even kidding around about wanting her dead, and God just keeps being like "Hey, how about no." Seriously, this is like the 5th time that she has been allowed to cheat death, and she's only 23, for crying out loud. It blows my mind.

So we all (Kelsey, Phyllis and I) hung out in the ER for a few hours while the doctors did a thorough assessment of Kelsey's miraculously limited injuries. They x-rayed her arm and some broken glass showed up pretty deep in there, so they had to numb her arm as best they could and dig around until they got as much out as they could find before stitching it up. The whole thing was a little traumatizing, to be honest, and I was definitely distancing myself from the situation quite a bit. I couldn't help making sarcastic observations and ridiculous jokes the entire time, though Kelsey and Phyllis were doing the same--humor is the best defense mechanism there is, if you ask me.

Anyways, all's well the ends well, blah blah blah.

Notice the couple inches of broken glass and scraped up road covering the inside. Oh yeah, and a chunk of the other guys' CAR (bottom left).

Animal Blog! Type B: Animals I Will Totally Never Own

2009-06-12T09:18:00.000-07:00

African Wild Dogs are amazing. If you are not familiar with them, I suggest you rent Planet Earth; there is some amazing footage of a pack of these dogs hunting. They had a small pack of females at the Nashville zoo, and they were too much fun to watch. It was weird to see them behave so much like our own dogs at home, and yet to have something so markedly different about them. Kelsey said one of the zoos in Chicago has a pack of Wild Dogs as well, and I am looking forward to meeting them (hopefully tomorrow!).

Clouded Leopards are possibly my favorite of the big cats. They're absolutely beautiful, and they have proportionately the largest canine teeth of any feline. The zoo in Nashville had a pair of these leopards, and I once watched as one stared a hole right through someone's kid from the other side of the observation glass. The family was of course cooing about how the kitty was looking at their baby, while the more objective observers silently reeled at the bloodlust in the big cat's eyes. It was a seriously morbid and fantastic moment.
BLACK BLOTCHED RAY! You may or may not remember my encounter with this beautiful menace at the Atlanta aquarium. I feel like this ray could have been the star of the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland. "LOOK INTO MY EYES!!"
I <3 Xenarthrans!! This little anteater is called a Tamandua, and you actually can obtain and properly keep them as pets, though I don't know that I ever would. I have a feeling they are VERY high maintenance if you wish to keep them at all, let alone keep them indoors. But man are they neat.

Hahahahahaha, I jacked these two photos straight off of cuteoverload.com. I don't even remember what they said the frog was called, I'm just excited that it exists!
This is a Fossa, which I had never even heard of until a couple of months ago. It's endemic to Madagascar and is related to the mongoose, though I would have taken it for a dog-nosed feline.
This little freak I just discovered yesterday. It's a primate called an Aye Aye that also lives in Madgascar. They don't lurk about trying to steal the One Ring as you might suppose, but they are said to be remarkably fearless little creatures that will sometimes walk through village streets or right up to humans just to see what's going on.
I fell in love with Icelandic horses while I was in their homeland. They are small, surefooted little horses, and very fun to ride. But above all they are so incredibly sweet-natured. The reason they make the "I'll Totally Never Own one of These" list is that they are pretty hard to come by unless you are in Iceland. I think they have a registered presence in like 17 different countries or something, but Icelandic equine breeding is so incredibly stringent that I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that purchasing one of these beauties--even from within the states--carries a pretty serious pricetag.
Heehee, giraffes... <3
Also stolen from cuteoverload.com
Cervals are NEAT. I first became fascinated by them when I saw one relentlessly pacing with some kind of silent burning fury along the front of its habitat in a zoo. Though the one in the picture looks very domestic and pleased, most cervals I have seen have something extraordinarily wild-looking behind their eyes.
This a Tree Kangaroo, native to New Guinea and a few other nearby islands.
And last but not least... cariboooouuuuu! That kid is my hero.

Animal Blog! Type A: Maybe I'll Have One of These Someday

2009-06-12T07:45:00.000-07:00

Tee-hee, bunnies! I really, really love rabbits. The particular rabbits pictured above are a breed called the English Spot, and they are probably my favorite breed of rabbit that I've encountered so far. The ones above are the "lemon" variation, but they also come with black and--my personal favorite--"blue" markings. They're cute as a button and have awesome friendly personalities. They seem to be excellent house bunnies. After the tragic day that Boromir kicks the bucket I will probably go to the next county fair and shell out a big 10$ for an English Spot.
I've been fascinated with caimans since high school. They're basically little miniature crocodiles. The one in the picture is a Black Caiman, though I think Dwarf Caimans are the more typical breed that you would find being sold as pets. This is one animal I wouldn't have until I had the money, time, and space to keep them the way I would want to. I believe it takes a good 4-6 years for them to reach anything like a substantial size and could be kept in a big tank for those first few years. But once they were adults I would want to have them set up in a sweet, sweet pond in a very well-fenced portion of my yard.

Omg, horsies. But not just ANY horses--draft horses. Like caimans, this also falls into the "lots of time, money, and space" category, though for very different reasons. I like draft horses because their temperaments tend to be very steady and low-key. They're usually very good-natured. Horses are kind of like giant dogs, and I just don't enjoy dealing with the high-energy ones that much. The dapple grey horse in the top picture is one I saw when I was at Disneyland just a few weeks ago. I literally stopped dead in my tracks when I saw it--absolutely stunning! I think it's a Percheron, though I didn't think Percherons had feathers on their feet like that. I don't know, I'm not that good with horse breeds. That black and white paint below, however, is a Shire.

A duck is one animal that never really photographs well, and yet when you watch them in real life they are soooo stinkin' adorable. They really are one of my all-time favorite animals, so it's pretty much the best ever that they are so common.
Goats also don't photograph that well, but they are also one of my all-time favorites. Incidentally, I think that baby goats are about 50,000 times cuter than puppies and kittens combined. Seriously, watch this video:

Peacocks are absolutely splendid-looking, and they make a really fun, albeit extremely loud, noise. They are easy to come by and extremely easy to keep, provided you have a big enough yard to let them strut around. The bottom one is a white hybrid, and pictures like that make me understand why a lot of culture used to worship animals.

Monterey, part 2

2009-05-21T23:30:00.000-07:00

Saturday was exhausting. Around mid-day we took the boys (plus Benny) to Carmel-by-the-Sea. I laid on a large driftwood log and read from The Canterbury Tales while I let the sun utterly kick my ass like I love to do. After beach times were over, Alicia dropped me off with the Hofschneiders, who now live on English Ave--so close to Portola! I used to traverse those neighborhoods when I would go for walks, and it is so torturous that Ryan and Jenny live there now that I am gone! Anyroad, Jenny plays the piano, and we went through a stack of songbooks and played and sang for nearly 3 hours. It was absolutely delightful. Jenny may not have a perfect technique or a polished sound, but there has always been some kind of inexplicable purity and overwhelming sweetness in her voice--both singing and speaking--that is a total knock-out to me. I love it. I think the highlight for both of us was singing through the pieces from Les Miserables, or perhaps when we started to attempt "Someday My Prince Will Come" and couldn't even finish for falling apart laughing. I never realized how stupid the words to that song are!

Jenny took me back to the Jones residence, and I hadn't been there even an hour when Peter came by to borrow a couple of lawn chairs. He was headed to the beach for a fire with some friends and managed to talk me into coming along (imagine that--me, talked into a social situation). I was really fried from taking in so much sun and then singing for hours, but when I found out that Sean Conway would be there, I couldn't possibly refuse. I had previously discovered that Sean lives near Edwards Airforce Base now (where he also works), and I had already resigned myself to his absence from Monterey. Naturally I jumped at the surprise chance to see him.

I found myself back at Carmel-by-the-Sea, this time with the sun setting over the water in all its colorful Pacific glory. In addition to Peter, I got to spend some more time with Timmy, Laura, Rachel, and Marc (Swikul). I was so delighted to talk with Sean, and I met his current girlfriend, Zoe, who seems like a very vibrant, very friendly person, if a little grating at times. Sean is such an incredible person; I'm really glad that I know him. He is just so intense, so passionate, and so loving.

It was also nice to chat with Marc a bit more, as we hadn't really spoken one-on-one too much the night before. Not that we talked about anything remotely substantial whilst on the beach--I think we talked about old TV shows most of the time... but just re-establishing the sense of casual conversation, with no agenda other than to talk about whatever was at hand--it was refreshing.

Sunday morning I went to Calvary Chapel--my first church attendance of '09. Honestly, there's not much to say about it, except that it was pleasant enough, and I'm glad I went. After the service I approached Nate to say hello and was very pleased to find that he still remembers my name. I told him that I had moved away, and "I didn't leave because I hate you or anything. I could never be a pastor because I would always worry that every time someone left the church it was because I had managed to piss them off," and so on... He smiled that aloof smile of wry amusement that Northern Californians have all but perfected and reassured me that he never thought any such thing. Next on the agenda was to meet up with Sara Craig for yummy sandwiches from Whole Foods and a pleasant walk through her new neighborhood. That was, of course, a nice time. If even half the human race were as positive, supportive, and free as Sara Craig, the world would be such a better place.

As evening approached, the Spences picked me up on their way back into town--they had gone to Magic Mountain and to visit Lisa's dad for the weekend. I had nearly forgotten just how much I love Luke and Lisa. I got to meet their son, Dillan, who is now 5 months old. Once we got to their house, Lisa changed Dillan's diaper and then asked if I would mind holding him while she took care of a few things. I then did the unthinkable: I held a baby for MORE THAN 30 SECONDS. As a matter of fact, I held him for like 20 minutes and managed to keep him pretty happy that whole time. Once the bouncy game and the pacifier stopped working, I just got up out of the chair and started walking him around the room--just to see what would happen--and it worked! Luke came in and said, "Oh yeah, he loves that. We do that all the time." YES! I did something that made a baby happy! I realize that no normal human my age would find such a large sense of accomplishment in this, but I don't care. I figured it out! =)

Lisa invited me to watch her put Dillan down for a nap and also let me hang out with her while she breast-fed him. Sitting in on those intimate mommy moments and letting Lisa tell me all about her experiences so far with her first child--watching the way Luke and Lisa are completely enamored with their son--it was all really special to me. For pretty much the first time in my life I got some sense of that incredible, unspeakable adoration a parent harbors for their child. I don't know why this trip has seen so much sudden healthy growth in my ability to deal with babies, but I'm pretty happy about it. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I finally figured out how I perceive kids: it seems that the expected feminine reaction to a baby is "OHHHH HOW CUTE!!" and and unspoken, "awwww, it NEEDS me." I experience neither of those sensations. But since those were the only two reactions I consistently saw, I didn't really know how I should react--I just knew that I didn't relate on any level to girls who want to hold every baby they see, or whose hearts ache when they see a cute pair of tiny baby shoes. What i finally did figure out is that I see kids as a 20-year-long anthropology experiment. Being around Jonathan Jones during so much of his early development was fascinating--watching how he learned, what stimulated him, how his coordination developed--it all made me realize how interesting kids are. And when I held Dillan, I paid attention to what he reacted to and what seemed to be going on in his head, and suddenly the whole thing was so much easier than it ever has been! I feel like I'm being very inarticulate right now, but *I* know what I mean, and that's all that counts. =)

Lisa brought me back to the Jones' house, and Alicia accidentally passed out early, leaving Mike and I a couple of hours for some quality one-on-one time.

The next morning, Sean knocked on the door a little before 11:30. I bid the Joneses farewell, and then Sean and I went and checked out the enormous new CSUMB library: it's definitely large and a nice facility, but good lord is it ugly. We went for lunch at the Orient, that little Chinese / Vietnamese place that we used to eat from at least once a week, as it was Steph's favorite. I glanced back at the bay one last time as we sped up highway 1, and just like that, Monterey resumed its status as Thing of the Past.

Monterey, as in a whirlwind (part 1)

2009-05-19T00:55:00.000-07:00

I love airports.
I love them so much that no matter which airport I'm in, even in one that I have never seen before, somehow it always feels like home.
I can't say I harbor the same affection for airplanes, those tormentors of any person taller than 5'5" and weighing in even a pound above 110. But every flight I take I get better at embracing the monotony and passing the time.

Nobody had to tell me when we flew over New Mexico. The land changed from a tedium of quilt-perfect squares to a contoured, tortured alluvium of living earth. Several minutes later, when the pilot mentioned that you could see Socorro off the left hand side of the plane, the gent sitting next to me must have noticed the pleased expression on my face. He remarked, "I don't see anything, do you?" I said that I did, but that maybe that's because I knew what I was looking for. We chatted on and off the rest of the way to San Diego. He was from Washington, D.C. and Columbus, Ohio, and had had the same perplexing experiences that I have had with exasperating mediocrity and ambivalent segregation in Tennessee. We talked about the German Shepherd he used to have, and he told me how much I will enjoy Chicago. I love strangers.

San Diego from the air was quite a sight. I haven't ever really been to San Diego--I've been to Sea World and the Zoo a few times as a child, but I don't think that really qualifies acquaintance with a city. From the air it looked like a pretty satisfying place to be, if you're of a certain personality, and over the years I've heard more than a few testimonials that corroborate. The ocean was a sight for sore eyes, though I can't say I miss it as much as I might.

Changing planes was effortless, and the flight to San Jose was both brief and relaxing, as there were very few people on the plane. Lauren was there to greet me at baggage claim, and we spent the rest of the day together. Being in her room in San Jose was unsurprisingly like being in her room in the Portola House. It was nice to be in such a familiar place, even though I had never been in that house before. We sat on the bed and had endless conversations about everyone and everything, just like we used to do when she would come home from work or from Salinas and catch me in my room doing homework or reading a book. Marc was supposed to be on his way to pick me up, but he had forgotten what day it was (oh, Marc...) until we called to inquire about his tardiness. It was for the best though, because Lauren and I got to spend extra time together, and then the three of us went for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory once Marc arrived. Once we finished dinner Marc drove me down to Monterey.

The next morning Marc took me over to the Jones' house, which turned into home base for the remainder of my stay. (Marc was just too busy with work and school and LIFE to be able to host me more than just the one night. *sigh* I wish Scott had been around.) Spending time with the Joneses has been wonderful, though I think that goes without saying. After all, it's the Joneses. It's been really cool for me to be around their kids nonstop as well. I think everyone knows that I am the least maternal 23-year-old this side of the Prime Meridian, but I have actually done really well with the kids here. Better yet, it has come easily. I have played with Eli and Benny (another baby that Alicia babysits) and Jonathan and helped out with them here and there. Basically, I've done what any normal human being would do around small children, but for me, that is quite an accomplishment, and it has been very satisfying. It's nice to see that maybe I will be able to have babies someday and actually know what to do with them.

Thursday I just followed Alicia around as she went about her daily life--taking the kids to the park, going to get her hair cut by a friend, putting the kids down for their naps, etc. On Friday afternoon I was going a little stir crazy (I'm so not used to having to base every single decision I make on what the kids are doing or what they need), and Alicia let me take her car for a drive around the Peninsula. I was bitterly disappointed at the thick fog that was ruining all the splendid views, but it eventually cleared up and gave me at least an hour of beautiful clear sunshine by which to explore my memories. From Marina I headed down Highway 1, exiting at Casa Verde and driving by my old house. From there I went through Cannery Row and along the coast all the way to Asilomar. Those unbelievable blankets of purple flowers were all over the coastline, spilling over the rocks until curtailed by the sandy shore.

That drive was very healthy for me. Driving past places that figured so importantly in one chapter of the story of my life, I felt... ...I felt a lot of things, but primarily I felt that I absolutely, definitively do not belong there any more, and what an enormous relief that is to me! The whole experience left me with a deepened sense of closure.

Friday evening we had a casual little get-together, just like old times. Guests included the Hofschneiders, Timmy, Rachel, Peter Said, Laura, and of course Marc the German. I was really nervous to see Marc, as it was our first time being face-to-face since the whole him-being-in-love-with-me thing. Of course everything was fine and we were able to carry on casual conversation without the awkwardness that usually seems so obligatory in those situations. Though I must admit I did find myself a bit self-conscious throughout the evening, which was only compounded by the fact that Peter was somewhat flirtatious with me more than once. I don't think he meant anything by his compliments and his insistence that we get together for dinner once we are both Midwest residents (he is moving to the Twin Cities shortly)--I think he is just another person who loves to engage, and it makes him seem as though he is coming on stronger than he is at times. I tend to enjoy people like that, so I suppose it all works out in the end.

to be continued...

In picutres, Ode to a friend

2009-05-10T06:31:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a long, horrible dream in which I watched Trillian get plowed by a car. Amazingly, it didn't kill her, but it knocked her out cold and tore her back leg most of the way off. I scooped her off the road and tried to call every vet I work with, to no avail. What commenced was an insanely long, drawn-out dream in which I waited at least one entire day before taking her in to my work, at which point the leg had severed completely. She had of course regained consciousness and refused to lie still, instead attempting to stand up and shift around, falling every time due to the missing leg and battering her broken self even more. Then, once I was at work, I kept trying to explain the situation to Dr. Harris, but it was really busy, and like five of my coworkers were there trying to get him to do other things, and they were getting really annoyed at me. It was one of those dreams that drug on forever. Imagine my relief when I woke up, knowing very well that my dog was sleeping just out of reach on the owl rug at the foot of my bed like she does every night.

I hate when dreams are so upsetting when they are totally absurd. (I mean, now that I'm awake I'm not upset anymore, but of course in the dream I was pretty freakin' stressed out.) Let's count all the things that are wrong with that dream, shall we? It'll be fun.
1. I would never CALL my work if my dog sustained a serious or life-threatening injury. I would rush her in and start taking care of her myself until one of the vets could finish up whatever task was at hand and tell me what else we should do for her.
2.I scooped my unconcious dog off the road and didn't even check to see if she was breathing! If you think I don't know doggy CPR, or that mouth-to-nose recusitation is not a real thing, you are quite mistaken. (Go ahead and laugh at the mental visual... some things are funny so that they're not downright depressing! Hahaha)
3. If one of her entire legs was ripped off, that dog would have bled to death so fast it wouldn't even be funny.
4. If for some reason I couldn't take her straight into work--i.e. it was after hours--I would take her straight to an emergency clinic. I would not, under any circumstances, put her in the house and wait!

Alright, there are more things wrong with that dream, but I'm sick of counting already, so let's just call it a day and look at some cute pictures of my dog, shall we?
I'm not looking forward to leaving her behind for two weeks, but I AM looking forward to taking her back to New Mexico in July!

Nothing in the world is quite like a good dog. =)

A little sleep quite happily lost

2009-05-08T06:01:00.000-07:00

I've always boasted that you've not seen fantastic lightning unless you've experienced a storm in the Southwest. When it comes to dazzling visual displays, I still hold to that, but when it comes to intensity of storm, I think TN pretty thoroughly gives NM a run for its money.

Several thunderstorms have woken me from a dead sleep here in Nashville--an occurrence I have always slept easily through--and last night was no exception. Previously it has been the sheer bone-shaking volume of the thunder (and I mean literally bone-shaking) that has caused me to stir, but last night was different. Last night I woke up to continuous strobing white light--flash after flash after flash.

Now, growing up in New Mexico, on the rare occasion that a thunderstorm would be intense enough to wake me up, I would lie in bed and enjoy the sounds for a few minutes before drifting back to sleep. In Tennessee, when I wake up to thunder, I always have a mental debate: do I lay here and enjoy before falling back asleep, or do I wake up fully, get out of bed and go check the tv for tornado warnings? Last night the frequency and brightness of the lightning demanded the latter.

No tornado warning or watch had been issued, so I was free to watch the dazzling display as I pleased before going back to bed. This was truly a singular storm. I'd never seen anything like it: the flashes of lightning were so frequent that I tried over and over and over to simply count to 5 before the next flash occurred--it couldn't be done. Electricity lit up the sky every couple of seconds, and it kept up this unbelievable pace for a full half hour. I did the math, and if a bolt of lightning slashed across the sky every 5 seconds for half an hour, that would be 360 flashes of lightning--and that is underestimating. Frequently the flashes were back to back, consecutive displays that made the clouds flicker and glow with the hot white light. As Trillian and I sat out on the porch watching the sky fight with itself, I only saw a handful of distinctive lightning bolts: most of the activity was what my aunt used to call "sheet lightening," when there is simply an illuminated moment in the sky that lets you know trouble is brewing. The electricity was so constant that the thunder was simply a dull continuous drone in the background. Occasionally a bolt would strike nearby enough that an enormously loud clap would break up the monotony, but for the most part it was just a quiet constant hum. ...Unreal.

I couldn't help but hear Dylan in my head...

Far between sundown's finish and midnight's broken toll,
we ducked inside the doorway as thunder went cracshing.
As majestic bells of bolt struck shadows in the sound,
seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing...

Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
the sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
that the clanging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder...

...As we listened one last time, and we watched with one last look,
spellbound and swallowed 'til the tolling ended...

I sat on the porch for maybe 20 minutes before the wind and rain began to get wilier and the thunder began to get loud enough to make me feel intimidated at being outside--even on a covered porch. I got back in bed, and the pace of the lightning had slowed to one flash every 10 to 20 seconds instead of every 2 to 5. Waking this morning to a crystal clear sunny sky makes the whole thing seem like a dream...

...in which it finally sinks in.

2009-05-06T17:34:00.000-07:00

I counted out the deposit as Blair mopped the floors and Ashley took the trash out. When I stood up and stuffed the cash into an envelope, I suddenly realized that thus was ending the last shift I would ever work with Dr. Harris--one of the all-around most quality human beings I've ever met. There is a soft kindness about him that restores my faith in humanity's potential, and that reminds me vaguely of Jesus. He's a good vet, too.

In fact, of the 14+ vets I've worked with, if I had to choose just one to be stuck working forever with, I would definitely pick Dr. Harris. I told him that as we said our farewells, and I could tell it meant a lot to him. He re-emphasized how much he's enjoyed working with me, said that I made a lot of potentially difficult days seem a lot easier. Ashley, unprompted, agreed. I forgot what a simple and pure joy it is to feel appreciated. Hugs and other pleasantries exchanged, I left Dr. Harris at his desk, calling clients back after all the rest of us had left--something none of the other doctors do--for the last time.

Ashley and I walked out into the warm, muggy evening and headed toward our cars. We said our own goodbyes as we walked, and I felt a thrill of early summer in the air the way only May can deliver. May has always been a month for goodbyes and changing seasons. It turns out it's hard to shake the patterns sewn into you by 20 years of a scholastic schedule.

I was nearly closing my car door when the last thing Ashley said to me was, "Have fun in Chicago. I'm pretty jealous of how young and free you are." A lot of people have said that to me. But Ashley didn't say it in a way that made me sad, as though she is dissatisfied with her own being--she said it in a way that was deliciously happy for me--in a way that reminded me that good things are in store for me, simply by virtue of living.

My key turned in the ignition the way it has done a thousand times before, in a thousand different towns. As I backed out of the patch of dirt that served as my parking spot, I rolled down my window to let in the humid late spring air. The sun would be setting in about an hour, and the clouds were dark and plentiful enough to give the sky that magically undecided look, when the storm can't quite form and simply makes the clear look clearer.

I'd forgotten what cd I was listening to before work, and as I drank in the May that was pouring through my window, Paul wailed, Ahh, Kansas City, gonna get my baby back home... Stupid Beatles... always right on cue to make a full-circle moment movie-perfect. Between the well wishes and the evening air and the Scouse melodic goodness, I finally felt deep within my bones the fullness of the changing seasons. I finally understood that Nashville--undoubtedly my symbol for painful transition--much like any fair-weather friendship, has run its course.

...Now now now now tell me, baby, what's been wrong with you... I turned on the right turn signal and pulled forward. "Take me home, boys..."

Ecclesiophobia

2009-04-23T18:36:00.000-07:00

I miss church so much.

I stopped going regularly in January of '08. Between then and May I think I went 3 times, and each time I found it difficult to not run out of the building. When it came to church, faith, God, and religion, I had two main problems:
1. myself
2. everyone else

I moved to Nashville and bounced around to 5 or 6 churches before giving up in frustrated disappointment at the taste of Bible Belt Christianity. My one staple was a large Tuesday-night gathering at Brentwood Baptist that David had invited me to. I really liked it, but once I got hired at Value Vet I very seldom got off work early enough to make it to church on time, Brentwood being 40 minutes away. Furthermore, the more I tried to get aquainted with some of the regular atendees, the more underwhlemed I was with the people I was meeting. Of course David was there, but he inadvertently ignored me half the time while he talked to other friends. I genuinely tried again and again to make nice with his group, but I was not terribly impressed with any of them either (nor they with me). Among said friends was Jamie--you remember, the girl who could barely bring herself to be halfway pretend-nice to me due to the will-we-won't-we dynamic between David and I. She reminds me of a 13-year-old. But, even excluding Jamie, pretty much all of the experiences I had with the people there were testaments to the over-abundance of mediocrity and snobbiness that I have found to be Nashville's trademark.

I realize that church is about GOD, and the teaching I was receiving at Brentwood Baptist was great, but when interacting with the people you are supposed to be worshipping alongside begins to erode your emotional sanity... it takes its toll.

I have not attended church once in 2009.

I miss it so much, and yet I'm so apprehensive about the prospect of returning. My time away has given me a very different perspective on faith and religion than I have ever held before, and I have lost my patience for many of the ins and outs of modern Christianity. I take heart in knowing that Chicago is yet another new frontier, and hopefully I will find a church up there that proves to be a constructive experience. What I really really miss is the whole "small group" thing, or Bible study, or whatever you want to call it. As I near the exit of this spiritual wilderness I've been exploring, I find myself craving a group, a mentor, or a peer who does not have any previous context for me or involvement in the details of my life. I feel like I am so ready to learn from and share with others again in a spiritual setting--nothing makes my world go 'round like me and Jesus having mutual friends--and yet my heart is so frightened of meeting with yet another bitter disappointement, all in the name of religion.

Weekend in Atlanta

2009-04-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

We finally made it down to Atlanta for a weekend--I say "finally" because Kelsey's brother lives here, and we have been meaning to take the trip since we first moved to Nashville. It's only a 4-hour drive. Well, now that it's down to the wire (Kelsey leaves TN in a week, and I follow a month after) we finally made it.

We drove down on Friday, stopping in New Echota, GA to visit the Cherokee something or other museum. New Echota used to be the capital of the Cherokee nation, and it was the site of a lot of important politics that finally culminated in the forced Trail of Tears march to Oklahoma. The current site holds a monument to the Cherokee people, a small museum, and a dozen or so restored buildings from 19th century Cherokee settlements. The old buildings stand on the original New Echota grounds, and you walk along some of the town's original streets to see them.

I had made a sudden surprise stop there on the way to Florida some three weeks ago but didn't have the time to walk around the museum and grounds. I call it a surprise stop because I hadn't realized I would be driving through there to get where I was going. In fact, despite my previous research on Cherokee history, I had no idea that New Echota was so close to Nashville (about 3 hours SE). I was glad I had that first encounter by myself. The sudden presence of such an important site in the history of a portion of my ancestors caught me off guard. I at least stopped to view the monument and visit some headstones with important names on them. I confess I got a little teary-eyed while reading the words on the monument. I also confess that I audibly complained, "What the fuck?!" when some of the last words on the monument boasted that the Cherokees had in their day "attained a high degree of civilization."
People blow my mind.

Anyway, getting to go through the museum and walk through the grounds was excellent. I love love love old buildings, and of course it was a real bonus to feel historical and genetic ties to the places I stood.

Going back to the whole "high degree of civilization" thing, I do see what they're trying to say, even if they chose an incredibly asinine way to say it. Cherokee-U.S. political history is interesting to me because it was so much more complex than the U.S. saying, "GTFO plz, kthxbye lol." The majority of the Cherokee people adapted to an American/European standard of living, dressing, trading, etc. Sequoya even created a written alphabet for the Cherokee language so that it could be printed and carried on that way--a very singular achievement among the vast array of Native Americans. Many Cherokees adapted politically as well, though this created pretty serious factions among the people. I find it interesting that, despite many Cherokees dressing, intermarrying with, and acting like whites, the U.S. government still wanted what it wanted--land. Even bereft of the excuses about white-indian hostilities and the uncivilization of savage peoples--even though a lot of ordinary citizens railed against the principles and actions of Indian Removal--even though it took the administrations of several presidents to see the oppression through to its fullest degree... what more can I say?

On a more personal level, visiting this site made me glad that I don't feel an over the top sense of attachment to that one side of my ancestry. I feel like having a Native American ancestor is treated like some sort of trendy novelty--so much so that I don't think anyone takes anyone else very seriously anymore when they claim to have "indian blood." Everyone's great great great grandmother was supposedly a Cherokee princess (when there is, in fact, no such thing, if you really want to pick on the semantics). Heritage and history are important to me, and it frustrates me to see any aspect of anyone's heritage cheapened or treated like a novelty. Yes, Cherokee blood flows through my veins, but so does English blood, Irish blood, Scottish and French blood. I am every ounce as fiercely proud of those ancestors as of that one faction of my history.

I guess a harsher way to say what I'm trying to say is I'm sick of whities using their 1/64 of Choctaw blood to come across as profound. That's all.

Anyway, we reached Atlanta with no problem and had a lovely Italian dinner with Chad and Janine, Kelsey's brother and sister-in-law, both of whom I really like (and both of whom thought Kelsey and I were a couple when I hung out with their family two Christmases ago. Do we REALLY seem that gay??).

Saturday morning Kelsey and I got up and went to the Georgia Aquarium, which is fantastic. Having frequented the Monterey Aquarium dozens of times, I went in with pretty lofty expectations, and the Georgia Aquarium did not disappoint. One of their main attractions consists of three Baluga Whales, which were a delight. The whales, like all the animals I saw there, seemed to be genuinely happy in their habitat, which always makes any zoo-type experiences much more satisfying. Naturally, there was a petting pool (hooray!), which consisted of Cownose Rays and Bonnethead Sharks.

The look of the aquarium was very very different than the look of the one in Monterey with its sophisticated simplicity. The GA Aquarium was more...almost Disney-esque, at times. The section that featured river animals (highlight: Asian Otters! Their smooshed little faces looked just like Winter, with that same expression of clueless joy and simultaneous scorn) was decked out floor to ceiling with fake trees, twisted roots, and vines. I wanted to LIVE in that exhibit. There were even a couple of tanks that were overhead, cradled by fake tree roots, making me feel like some small woodland creature in a very happy place.

Other highlights included:
- An enormous wall-sized tropical fish tank, exuberantly bright with Yellow Tangs, Cerulean Damselfish, Blacktip Reef Sharks, and absolutely packed with all kinds of other colorful little beings. All the animals were so busy, it looked like a scene straight out of Finding Nemo.
- Japanese Spider Crabs! They're HUGE! And I thought the Sheep Crabs in Monterey were big! These gangly crabs probably had 6-foot legspans, and in the wild they can reach over twice that length. They were hilarious and creepy and amazing all at once.
- Some species of enormous Caribbean Lobster.
- Pacific Sea Nettles, Moon Jellies, and Sea Otters to make me homesick for the Bay.

The piece d'resistance was a GIANT tank, viewable from several aspects. From the first window, before I realized just how extensive this tank really was, I spotted a huge (3 or 4 feet across?) Leopard Whiptail Ray. That alone pretty much made my day, but imagine my surprise and awe when a 6' Manta Ray swam by, followed by a freaking WHALE SHARK. I'm pretty sure my exact exclamation in that moment was a very astute, "Was that a freaking WHALE SHARK?!!"
Passing by a few more modest observation windows, we found ourselves in a long glass tunnel, over and around which all of these impressive creatures swam.

One of the FOUR whale sharks swam right over the top of us, nearly grazing the glass. The Blacktip Reef Sharks had grown to impressive sizes, and getting to stare directly into their toothy grins from 6 inches away was really something else. A large Sawfish accidentally rammed his big clumsy saw into a shark, and I have NEVER seen a fish look so comically flustered and apologetic. Dozens of Cownose Rays soared through the water, looking whimsical and vaguely adventuresome like they always do, each with two or three playful fish in its jetstream wake. Sitting behind the solace of several large boulders and right next to the glass was a large impressive fellow I hadn't even heard of before: a Black Blotched Fantail Ray. He was big (3 or 4 feet across?) and bulkier in the middle than most rays. His skin was a blotchy black, just as the name suggests, and his eyes were deep, smooth, blackish grey swirls...I'm pretty sure looking into those eyes unlocks the portal to another dark, sinister dimension. This Ray of Darkness never budged from his resting place, daring all who passed by to look into his menacing eyes and know true fear. I pretty much loved him.

The next room offered the classic floor-to-ceiling observation window, and it was undoubtedly the largest I have ever seen--MUCH larger than the one in Monterey. From there you could see everybody--the 5 species of stingray, the two species of guitarfish, the reef sharks, the sawfish, the impressive Manta Ray, all four Whale Sharks--everybody in a busy to-and-fro. We arrived just in time for a feeding, so the tank was really active. The Whale Sharks were fed first, vacuuming down water along with their food in impressive quantities. The smaller fish swarmed nearby, catching any leftovers the whale sharks missed.

Anyway, that was the aquarium, and I'd like to mention that I got to have some sweet, sweet Dippin' Dots at the end.

That afternoon we went and ate sushi before heading to the Dogwood Festival, which is an enormous art festival, at historic Piedmont Park. It was so crowded that I found it difficult to peruse the art with anything more than a casual appreciation, but there was a dog agility and frisbee show at 4:00, and that was a lot of fun.

Last on the long day's agenda was a show at the also-historic Fox Theatre for which Chad had been given free tickets. It was a Denis Leary & friends comedy tour, and man, I have never heard the word "fuck" so many times in one sitting. He was exceedingly vulgar, but he was actually really funny for most of the show (i.e. when he wasn't being overtly sexual or mean-spirited). I'm glad I didn't pay for it, that's for sure, but it was fun. I forget sometimes, too, how many different styles of humor there are. I like my style better. Haha.

I guess that's pretty much it. I mostly wanted to write about New Echota and the aquarium. This morning Janine had a soccer game that everyone went to, but I opted to sleep in and then write this blog. Lucky you.

or something.

Day 3, Animal Kingdom: The Saga Continues

2009-04-11T23:51:00.000-07:00

Monday, March 23

We tackled Animal Kingdom on this day, which of the non-Magic-Kingdom parks turned out to be my favorite. I had significantly lowered my expectations of it, because it really does sound exceptionally glorious in theory, and it's too easy to be disappointed by things that sound too good to be true. I mean honestly: Disney makes an animal park? That idea sounds much too awesome to be executed in any kind of satisfactory way. However, whether it was a result of my sequestered expectation or a result of authentic triumph on the part of Disney, I absolutely adored Animal Kingdom.

In keeping with typical theme park fashion, the park is divided up into various lands: primarily Discovery Island, Africa, Asia, DinoLand U.S.A., and Rafiki's Planet Watch. (Spoiler alert: DinoLand blows.) The animal exhibits are apportioned logically between Asia (animals found in Asia), Africa (animals found in Africa), and Discovery Island (animals found everywhere else). Additional exhibits are crammed wherever they could fit them, including Rafiki's Planet Watch and along the walkways that take you throughout the park.

We headed to Asia first, which would certainly be among my top 5 favorite places in any Disney park, if ever I were to make such a list. Instead of theming this area after Chinese / Japanese style, which seems to be the norm for Asian-themed anything, the atmosphere was distinctly reminiscent of Southeast Asia--Thailand, Nepal, Tibet, etc. The utmost Disney-standard of detail had been given to the design, from the ancient-looking, supposedly half-ruined buildings and the thick, region-appropriate foliage, right down to the ever-shrinking prayer flags that adorned many a dilapidated courtyard. It was beautiful. Aside from the many animals I made us stop to gawk at on the way there, the first thing on Scott's (and therefore everyone else's) agenda was a new attraction whose full name is Expedition Everest--Legend of the Forbidden Mountain.

And speaking of "Scott's agenda" I suppose I may as well fess up now to the fact that Scott and I were more or less in charge of....well, just about everything. Being the most absurd Disneyphiles in the group, we were the two who cared the most about where we went and in what order we went there. Scott being Scott, most final decisions were deferred to him, though my input was almost of equal weight and I shared a fair amount of the decision-making. It's a good thing Sean, Steph, and Marc are all as laid back good sports as they are, because it created an easy dynamic among the group when it came to most of the daily planning. Also of considerable importance was the simple fact that all of us were content to embark on occasional independent or paired-off adventures, even though that only happened a handful of times.

Anyway, so there we were at Expedition Everest. All I knew about this ride was that it was some kind of roller coaster, so I asked Scott, "Is this comparable to, say, California Screamin? Or more like Big Thunder Mountain?" I had underestimated just how new this ride was, and it turned out it was so new that Scott had not even been on it, nor did he know much about it. After much condescension and guffawing on his part and more reasoning, hesitance, and stubbornness on my part, he eventually told me that his understanding was that it was more comparable to Big Thunder Mountain. In hindsight, I wonder if he said that just to get me on the ride. Who knows.

The queue for that ride is absolutely fantastic--probably the best Disney has come up with so far. You start out winding through ancient-looking Buddhist-flavored courtyards and around small decorated buildings that could pass for small mountain temples. The nearer you get to the mountain, the more mountaineering gear you begin to see, until you actually walk through a mock outdoor rec shop just bursting with backpacks, trekking poles, crampons, and all kinds of the stuff that makes Marc and I weak in the knees. From there the line meanders through an actual little museum all about the folklore of the infamous Yeti, and once you have gone completely through, you've all but reached your final destination.

Scott and I found ourselves in the very front of the coaster, which was simply a 1/2 inch-thick slab of metal... there was no front adornment to make you feel protected from your certain doom, just your knees and the flat front of the cart. I was terrified. As the ride got going, we whooshed around a few fun little turns before beginning a ghastly steep ascent straight to the top of the faux-Everest. If you looked to either side you could see all of Animal Kingdom and beyond. I was SO incredibly scared at that point that they would shortly drop us at least as far as they had towed us up, and yet I also suspected that that was what they wanted us to think... Sure enough, once we reached the apex, we soared around a few sharp turns with relatively little descent until we reached--of course--the end of the line. The cart slowed to a halt and the track's jagged end splayed cartoonishly up in front of us. We sat there motionless in suspense (though what I was feeling was more akin to agony) of how this situation would resolve. I knew we only had two choices: straight down or backwards. I wasn't sure which was the more cruel fate. I heard Steph behind me happily sing, "Backwards time!" and I feared the gloating bitch was right... two seconds later I KNEW she was right, as we went roaring backwards along a totally different track in total darkness.

Man...I think anyone who reads this blog knows how sensitive and easily over-stimulated I am when it comes to tactile / physical sensations. So much of how I connect to the world and even the people around me has a lot to do with feeling, motion, and touch. That's why I'm always hugging, punching and high-fiving people, and that's why big crazy rides scare the bejeesus out of me. I can't handle that much physical sensation at once, so mercilessly. It's too much too fast and it tends to make me panic.

I'd never gone backwards before, at least not at those speeds, making those maneuvers, in total isolating darkness. It was intense. When we finally came to a halt again we found ourselves in an ill-lit cave. The cave ledge in front of / above us had a shadow-display of a cartoonish yeti projected on it, but being right in the front and panicking over what was going to happen to me next, my eyes were glued to the track in front of me. Imagine my horror when I watched it completely TURN THE HELL OVER. I was pretty sure I wouldn't make it out of this alive. Sure enough, once the track had done it's thing we got going again, picking up just enough speed to jam us down a 50-foot drop-and-turn as fast as we could go. 50 feet isn't bad--that's what Splash Mountain is--but it's harder to bear on a coaster than it is on a water ride. The feeling of the motion and the velocity are totally different. Anyway, we soared down that drop and then did some more high-speed whoosh-and-turns and (my personal favorite part) high-speed ascents-and-turns before returning smoothly to our destination.

My knees were so weak that I almost stumbled out of the cart onto the platform. I had to sit down for a few minutes and get past the adrenaline rush. It was so freaking intense. Why am I such a loser? But MAN it was fun!

We embarked on some much tamer activities after that. We strolled through the Maharaja Jungle Trek--a cluster of animal exhibits tied together with more beautiful SE Asian theming. The hands-down highlight of this section was an animal I had only learned of about two years ago: the giant fruit bat, also known as a flying fox due to its enormity. Because they are vegetarians and have no need of hunting, they are diurnal animals, and many of them were busy eating, interacting with one another, or grooming their incredible wings when we dropped in to see them. A few of them were asleep in classic bat form: hanging upside down, sleek wings wrapped tightly about their bodies in a happy bat burrito. The only way I could have been any more pleased is if I had seen one of them fly.

The highlights of the Africa section were the Pangani Forest Exploration Trail (more neato animals) and the Kilamanjaro Safari. The latter exhibit is embarked upon in an over-sized safari jeep. You travel along an intentionally bumpy and ill-kempt road to observe dozens of species of free-ranging animals on a faux-savannah preserve of land. Most excellent. Of course, it wouldn't be Disney if they didn't incorporate a story, so the drive was accompanied by a very cheesy but not entirely inappropriate plot regarding poachers in the area.

Earlier, before boarding the pants-peeing Everest ride, we had obtained fast passes for one and the same ride, so that we could enjoy some instant gratification later in the day. Now that time had come, and I was faced with a terrible decision: could I really get back on this ride? It had taken me an incredibly long time to come completely down off of my adrenaline rush after the first go-round, and I wasn't sure I could put my body through that again. We decided I would at least go through the line with them, and if I really had to be a wimp and bail out at the last minute, so be it.

I did, in fact, manage to force myself onto the ride again. This time I rode with Steph, who was a good moral support. I know that this is totally absurd, but bringing myself to get on that ride a SECOND time was honestly one of the scariest freaking things I have ever done. Certainly there was no actual peril, and I have been in plenty of legitimately dangerous experiences and felt more confidence, but as far as the sensation of FEAR within me...even if it seems childish to others...it was pretty hardcore. To be honest, I was teetering right on the edge of full-blown panic as the ride jolted into motion. I took a few deep breaths as we rounded the warm-up turns. The panic threatened to return as we began that ungodly ascent, but halfway up the mountain I found my wits enough to remind myself of something: feelings don't dictate reality. Yes, I FEEL afraid, and yes, my body will shortly FEEL very intense sensations, but... so what? Does that brief perception of experience alter my reality, my future?

And that was it. I had successfully talked myself down, just in time for full-throttle reverse and all other manner of mechanical punishment. And once I had freed myself from the clutches of my own perceptions, I had a freaking BLAST. I had enjoyed it the first time around, most definitely, but now I was enjoying it with a total FREEDOM and sense of immense victory. Even if it never makes sense to another human being, I really accomplished something important within myself in that moment.

We stepped off the ride and immediately got back in line for a third go-round. My body would be screaming with adrenaline for at least a full hour after this double feature, but it was worth it.

Next we found our way over to the extremely anti-climactic DinoLand U.S.A. and went on the one not-themed-for-children ride in the vicinity. The ride was cleverly titled DINOSAUR (Yes, inexplicably in all caps), but I insisted on calling it Indiana Jonesasaurus. If you were to shut your eyes, the movement of the track and the jeep--er, time machine or something--would have felt just like Indiana Jones. But instead of traveling through ancient temples, over bridges of fire, and enjoying an awesome story, you went back in time and saw some dinosaurs (which a computerized voice obnoxiously identified with each new specimen we encountered) and then tried to time travel the hell out of there before a giant meteor hit. When I was 9 it probably would have been the most life-changing ride I've ever been on, but at 23 it was...mediocre at worst, and kind of fun at best.

The "climax" of the ride is when a very large T-rex pops out at you and roars at an INCREDIBLE, even offensive, volume. A picture snaps right when the animatronic predator is at his most surprising and ferocious, and that is one hilarious picture. Steph looks offended, and I look terrified and confused by the unnecessary noise. Sean and Scott both look full of disdain and vaguely annoyed confusion. Marc looks like he's having a swell time. Hahaha.

After Indiana Jonesasaurus I forced everyone to accompany me on a walk through the Cretaceous Trail. The trail was described as a pleasant stroll on which you would see plants and animals that have survived since far more primitive times, as well as a few dinosaurs. That was a mostly accurate description, though I would add that it takes all of about 90 seconds to walk through. Weak.

And that was DinoLand.

The last exhibit we walked through was Discovery Island, which would also rank high on my list of favorite Disney locales. This "island" (surrounded by a river) is home to that beautiful work of craftsmanship, the Tree of Life. If you thought the Swiss Family / Tarzan treehouse was bitchin' as far as fake trees go, you should see the Tree of Life. This enormous piece of art is elaborately carved from top to bottom with as many different animals as they could fit together. Various animal habitats surround the tree, and the giant carved roots sprawl out in every direction, helping to create walls for some of the enclosures. It's really difficult to describe in a way that does it any kind of justice. I have found pictures to be unimpressive as well. Craftsmanship like that simply must be savored face-to-face.

The day was moving on as we meandered through the exhibits, spending considerable time with the flamingos--another of my favorites--and pausing time after time to appreciate the Tree of Life from every conceivable angle. We returned to "Asia" and ate delightful Thai food at the Yak & Yeti Restaurant before meandering as slowly as possible toward the park's exit.

Once we exited the park we boarded a bus to the Animal Kingdom Lodge, which proved to be a remarkably beautiful, impressive hotel. We explored the inside and then walked out onto the grounds, where several species of savannah wildlife could be observed from benches and even rocking chairs. If I'm ever in Florida again and feel like blowing a few hundred dollars a night on an awesome hotel, I know where I'm going.

It was well beyond sunset, and we decided that our last stop of the day would be a little bar at the top of the Contemporary Californian Hotel (which, incidentally, I think is one of the stupidest hotel names I've ever heard) to get some dessert. Our waiter was a total dip-shit. When he came to take our orders, he applied the "ladies first" rule, asking Steph what she would be having, and then turning to me and saying, "And what would your mom like?" TOTALLY amazed and caught off-guard, I haughtily replied with, "Wow, that's a terrible way to sell alcohol." Being a Disney waiter, I'm sure he didn't mean that comment to come out quite the way it did, but....seriously?! There is only one way any American woman would take a comment like that, and as much slack as I normally try to cut people, I couldn't help but feel both insulted and amazed at this man's stupidity. I was already tired and rather crestfallen at having earlier remembered that these people I was so easily happy with are no longer part of my every day life. For the first time since moving, I felt the full weight of how lonely and dissatisfying my life in Nashville is. The waiter's hurtful comment was just the cherry on the proverbial garbage cake.

In the continuing saga of Our Waiter Was an Idiot, Marc had ordered a whiskey sour, and it was really weak. When the waiter returned, Marc ordered a Scotch sour and asked if they could make it a little stronger that time. The waiter said sorry, but no they couldn't, and then proceeded to explain to Marc--who is a 26 year old man--what Scotch is like compared to whiskey and how to drink it, etc. etc. He was basically explaining the concept of alcohol to Marc as though he were some 12 year old kid being allowed to drink for the first time at his big sister's wedding. I am normally a very generous tipper, but I did not leave that damn waiter a single penny.

Anyway, life went on, and a good night's sleep cures many ills. =)

CARLY, CARLY, CARLY!

2009-04-10T18:26:00.001-07:00

Guess what we learned in ballet yesterday!

.....CATS LEAP!

It turns out it's called a grand jete. =)
I'm utterly terrible at it (kind of like most of ballet), but I love it.

Days 1 and 2 of the Great Disney Caper

2009-04-07T19:16:00.000-07:00

This is mostly for Sam, because it mostly consists of Disneyland/world comparisons. In fact, even Sam might not care about this, but I wrote it anyway, because I care.

Saturday, March 21

I left bright and early that morning, excited for the drive ahead of me and in agonal suspense of seeing old friends. I wasn't even out of Tennessee when I got a distressed phone call from Scott: the Monterey airport had cancelled their flight to L.A. due to fog. After some stress and some phone calls, Scott called me back while I was sitting in bumper-to-bumper Atlanta construction traffic to let me know the revised plan: he had managed to book the absolute last seat on a flight from San Jose, and Marc was no longer coming. I couldn't believe it. I thought maybe he was messing with me. "...really?" "Really." "...why? What happened?" Scott fed me some elaborate story about how Marc had freaked out over the flight thing and just decided not to go. I knew Marc had been stressed out lately, but I couldn't imagine him doing something that ridiculous and canceling on an adventure. My mind was thoroughly blown as I tried to think of what I should do next... of course I was going to call him and try to talk some sense in to him. Obviously, this would really change the trip... an entire week with just Scott and I?
Anyways, Scott and Marc are idiots, and of course the whole thing was a big lie to see what I would do. He had me going for at least 5 minutes though. Scott said he was impressed--apparently he'd expected me to "lose it." I'd also like to add that the entire thing was Marc's idea.

Stupid boys.

The traffic past Atlanta stalled me about 2 hours, and that combined with my other stop (which is a mini-adventure for another post, another day) caused my 10 or 11 hours of driving to become 14. I also got lost on Disney grounds and circled around the faceless roads until I accidentally found myself at the right hotel. I was exhausted when I finally checked in and found my way to my room. I was happy though. I had entered the magical realm of DISNEY. We stayed at the All Star Movies Resort, and our room was mildly 101 Dalmatians themed. It was a cozy little room, and I was very aware when I walked into it that that was the amount of space I would be sharing with two boys for the next 8 days. I took a shower, turned on the tv to SNL (which was a re-run that night) and felll asleep to Steve Martin playing his happy banjo, singing "Late For School." Scott knocked on the door right on (the revised) schedule around 2 am. Happy hugs, and back to bed. Marc had only managed to catch a red-eye into Florida, so he wouldn't arive for several hours yet.

Sunday, March 22

I woke up again shortly before 7 am to the sound of a text message. Marc was letting me know he had landed and was on his way to the hotel. I made the mistake of sending a message back before trying to go back to sleep. Marc was certainly bored on the shuttle, so he kept text messaging me, and I didn't quite have the heart to respond, "Shut the hell up. We're trying to sleep," even though that's what we were angrily muttering from our cozy beds. My personal favorite message was, "How's Scott?" Scott and I couldn't help but laugh pretty hard at that one.... "Scott would be AWESOME if you'd quit texting me so he can sleep!!" But I couldn't do it. I think I Just ignored that one. Haha.

Anyway, somewhere around 7:30, Marc's anticipated knock landed on our door. Scott was in the bed closer to the door, so he opened it just as I was getting out of my bed. Marc said that some people from the hotel needed to talk to Scott about something, and that they were there with him. Scott's reaction told me that it was not who Marc said it was, and in a haze of total disbelief I stepped out the door and laid eyes on Sean and Steph. I could not have counted how many times in the planning of this trip I thought things like, "Maybe Sean and Steph will show up by surprise," and then how mad I would be at myself for thinking things like that even though things like that don't happen.

I can't even describe how I felt in that moment of first seeing them. I hardly even KNOW how I felt in that moment. There is a certain level of emotion and joy and surprise at which you just totally fall apart. This was beyond that level. I was so thrilled that I felt tears spring to my eyes and then vanish just as quickly. For once in my life, I was so overjoyed that I actually held it together.

The five of us retreated back into the room, and I listened in a manic haze as Marc, Sean, and Steph explained how they had pulled off the elaborate surprise without Scott finding out. I, of course, had been easy to hide things from, living 2,000 miles away. Scott, being the coordinator of the trip as well as Marc's room mate, had thought that maybe something was up.
I can easily say that that was the best surprise of my entire life, both in how little I suspected it and how happy it made me. It was so surreal to be there in that room with those four people: to be around HUMOR again, and to be myself unrestrained, and to not have to try to fit into foreign social customs or be diplomatic. I hadn't laughed so hard in all the time I'd been in Tennessee.

We went to breakfast at the hotel's food court before heading to Magic Kingdom for the day. As we sat around the table I was stilll in the haze of my own manic high, and I didn't really say much. All I could do was laugh and think, "I love you," as each person made the next comment.

But all manic highs eventually come down; and down I eventually came.

As we entered Magic Kingom, my first impression was, "Wow, it's the same...but different." [than Disneyland.] The castle was bigger. Actually, I think everything was bigger, but the differences felt subtle. Adventureland was beautiful. I wanted to move in to that place and never leave. Sidetracked from our first destination, we headed up the Swiss Family Treehouse. Marc and I each had elaborate plans involving living in that treehouse. Even though its essentially a big plastic manifestation of someon'e imagination, exploring it begged the question, "Why do I live in a house?? In Tennessee?!?" It has always been a pretty serious bane to me that I like being a conventional member of society in JUST ENOUGH ways to keep me from throwing it all away and pursuing something like living in an island shack. Knowing me, I really would do it.

Next we headed to the Jungle Cruise, where we had probably the best river guide any of us had ever had. The Cruise proceeds pretty much just like the one in DL (including the backside of water) until close to the very end, when you proceed up the Makong river into the darkness of a collapsed temple. Inside it's very quiet and the guide refrains from saying anything. As you drift through the dark ruins you see a tiger with glowing eyes, several cobras and monkeys, and--my personaly favorites--lots of fake artifacts, treasure, and dilapidated but serene Buddha statues. (The thin, quiet Buddha of Southeast Asia, not the fat jolly one of Chinese restaurants.) It was really cool. Once you're out, you proceed to the head hunter and all of the "Here are a few of my favorite plants" jokes, and then the ride is over. Not a bad little deviance from the old format ...I think the DL Jungle Cruise should look into that kind of an addition!

One of the Magic Kingdom's most deeply-felt lacks was Indiana Jones. What a gem among gems that ride is! But we moved on to Pirates of the Caribbean, which had a very impressive queue compared to the one at Disneyland. I like the DL queue, if for no other reason than it has a very classic Disney feel to it in its simplicity. I like the approaching clank and din of the Blue Bayou restaurant, and I like the paintings of the pirates on the walls, even if Scott ridiculed them as effeminate. The Magic Kingdom line is far more impressive, though, even for all my affection for the Disneyland version. Through a large Spanish pueblo-style veranda you enter a formidabbly heavy-looking set of wooden doors and proceed down a long, winding dark passageway. It's as though you're in a Caribbean fort, with cannons and cannonballs, and even a couple of old skeletons rotting away in jail over a game of chess. It's VERY dark in there. In fact, a lot of the queues at Disneyworld were so dark that I was surprised it was something they could get away with, though I REALLY liked it.

For as much as I liked the queue leading up to the DW version of Pirates, I was a bit disappointed with the ride itself. It's noticeably much shorter (I think Scott said it's 1/3 shorter than the Disneyland version?), and it somehow just doesn't have that magic that I love so much. You enter into the pirate universe very abruptly, with no talking skull, no colorful caves, no scene of the bayou, and no sudden drop. You simply enter through a smoky veil of Davy Jones' sinister ramblings, and the pirate antics begin. They've done a nice job of shaping their own little version of the Pirates story, but it just feels so lacking compared to the Disneyland version. You do get your wooshy little drop about halfway through the ride, but...it's just not the same. The one thing I will say for it, though, is that the implication of the final Jack Sparrow robot at the end is much better than the one in Anaheim. Instead of a random Jack Sparrow sitting on a pile of treasure in a cubby hole, he is enthroned in a large, quite formidable room just bursting with treasure and shiny artifacts. The whole scene feels more justified somehow than the DL version, not like just a good excuse to stick in a Jack Sparrow robot.

Leaving Adventureland, we found ourselves suddenly in Frontierland, faced with Splash Mountain. We got a fastpass for it and then went on the neighboring Big Thunder Mountain. For all practical purposes this one felt more or less the same as the DL version, except I think Disneyland has a slightly more enjoyable line. Incidentally, Big Thunder Mountain ended up being the most ridden ride of the trip, before all was said and done. We only did Splash Mountain once, as 3/5 of our party are not all that crazy about water rides. In their defense, it really almost never was hot enough to make you want to justify a ride that gets you quite that wet. Splash Mountain has always been one of my favorites though, and I especially like the DW version because you get to sit two by two instead of single file.

Next was the Haunted Mansion, which was both better and worse than the DL version. The look of the mansion is completely different. Instead of the beautiful white plantation-style mansion of DL, it's a large, ruddy, more New England style affair. The look is both impressive and fitting, as its setting is a small bit of Americana called Liberty Square that serves as a linking corner between Frontierland and Fantasyland. Another notable difference to fit the Liberty Square theme is the large riverboat that makes berth there, painted with the large letters "LIBERTY BELLE." Oh, Disney puns... Anywho, the Haunted Mansion is beautiful, though the queue and subsequent entrance are remarkably underwhelming. I love the Mansion at Disneyland and how the line winds around and around the yard of the house until you step right up onto the front porch and cross the thresh hold through the main entrance. The Mansion in Florida takes you alongside the river, which is nice, but the entire thing is covered, and while this serves to keep the sun from beating down on you, it also cuts off your view of the formidable building as you approach it. The small, covered entrance in the lower side of the Mansion is inexplicable... are you entering through the servant's quarters? It's painfully nondescript. However, once inside, I daresay the rest of the ride is perhaps even better than the DL version. There are several small scenes in the beginning that are incorporations of things you walk through in the DL version (such as the paintings that change with the lightning or the busts that seem to follow you with their faces). The best part, though, is a room full to the brim with staircases that go in every conceivable direction, including sideways and upside down. And of course, all of them lead to nowhere. It's a delightful, almost M.C. Escher-ish spooky affect, and it precedes your entrance into Madame Leota's room.

Just before we entered the Mansion, I had noticed that I had a voicemaill and 3 text messages from Kelsey, all urgently and eagerly begging me to call her. When we came off the ride I sat down and called her, and she told me about the house in Downers Grove! Suffice it to say that I was already on cloud 9 that day, and this just made it all way too good to be true! Before I move on I must comment that I find it exceedingly odd that I have now had two houses come to me while at a Disney park...

This brought us roughly halfway through the day, and we stopped in for lunch at Scott's favorite place in all of Disneyworld: the Columbia Harbor House. It's a charmingly decorated place where you can get fried fish and all the other typical fried things you can get at Disneyworld. The decor really is quite pleasing, with old victorian-looking nautical relishes and old maps in dark wooden frames. We sat in a nice little 2nd story wing of the restaurant that overlooks Liberty Square out one window, and Fantasyland out the other, as you sit directly over the passageway that connects the two lands.

It's a Small World was next on the agenda. It was odd to see such a big ride nestled quietly and somewhat discreetly into the streets of Disneyworld's take on Fantasyland--especially when your context for it is the splendid carboard castle overlooking the park's hustle and bustle from a surprising distance from the rest of Fantasyland like at DL.

We went on Peter Pan, which I hadn't done in at least 10 years. The line is always too long for it at DL, but at Magic Kingdom we were able to use a fastpass on it.

Snow White's Scary Adventure was MUCH better than the California version. It actually resolves in a logical ending, unlike the Disneyland one, which cuts the story off at the most awkward point possible.

My overall criticism of the FL version of Fantasyland was the incongruency between German storybook architecture and cardboard carnival-style facades. According to Scott, the latter is the original Fantasyland concept, but the former is infinitely more pleasing to me. Combining the two like they've done in the Magic Kingdom just doesn't feel quite right to me. Magic Kingdom has also removed Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, which I consider a serious flaw. BUT...one of the best things about Magic Kingdom vs. Disneyland is a little gem in Fantasyland called the PhilharMagic. The bulk of it is a 3D animated montage of some of your favorite Disney musical moments: i.e. Part of That World, Be Our Guest, A Whole New World, etc. For such a simple concept, I find it exceptionally magical.

Last but never least comes Tomorrowland (I had, of course, requested that we go about our day in a clockwise fashion). Buzz Lightyear, Space Mountain, and something really retarded called Stitch's Great Escape. I never saw the movie, but Lilo and Stitch always looked really lame to me, and the Stitch character seems painfully annoying. I felt his presence throughout the Disney parks was far more pronounced than seemed necessary. We also embarked upon the Carousel of Progress, which is a large rotating building, seemingly like the Imagineering whosawhatsit called at Disneyland--you know, the round building with all the fun scientific innovations and whatnot. However, it turns out that the Carousel of Progress is NOTHING like the Imagineering place at DL...it's an animatronic show all about progress and technology...only really lame and outdated. Haha. I mean, really, I'm pretty forgiving, and even I thought it was cringe-worthy.

We ate dinner at the Village Haus (which I like better at DL--I feel like the decor and atmosphere are more detailed. Though the DW version scores a point for overlooking the entrance to It's a Small World on one side), and then after dark we headed back around the park to repeat any rides we felt like repeating. One of my personal favorite moments of the trip was going on the Haunted Mansion again. I was riding alone, and the ride paused for several minutes. I was right at the end of the hallway with all the knocking doors--a very dark and eerie place to be stuck. The soundtrack kept going, and over the top of all the ghostly noises I could hear (and sometimes feel) the rattling explosions of the fireworks outside. Most of the time I couldn't distinguish the noise of the ride from the noise of the fireworks. The combination of sound was very loud but very pleasing. I was quite content to be stuck in my doom buggy for those few cacophonous Disney moments.

Another delight: climbing the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse at night. The lights of the park are beautiful after the sun goes down. I really want to take that big fake tree and all its trappings, transport it to some wonderful remote location, and spend the rest of my days in it...

Man, it's gross how much I love Disney.

Anyway, I guess that's about all the excruciating detail I can wring out of days 1 and 2.

We have a house!

2009-04-03T17:53:00.000-07:00

On the first day of my complicated, exhausting, but still delightful vacataion, I got a voicemail and 3 text messages from Kelsey urging me to contact her immediately. Once out of the Haunted Mansion and in an area where I could at least sort of hear, I called her back and encountered the exciting news that we have a house in Downers Grove. Over the past couple of weeks we'd been scouring Craigslist and other internet resources trying to feel out various neighborhoods both in the actual city and in the nearby suburbs. The fact that we get to skip all the rest of the research, phone calls, emails, applications, and application fees (!!) is unbelievable. What happened is that Phyllis's other best friend owns several properties. The house in Downers Grove (the town where Phyllis and Jim live) that we will be moving into is the one she has currently been living in, but her mother has taken ill, so she is moving into one of her properties that is a little south of the city, closer to her mom. She wasn't sure what to do with the house. She didn't want it to fall into disrepair, finding good renters is such a hassle, and she didn't want to sell it. Fortunately, she talked to Phyllis about all this... which means we are in incredible luck.

It's 3 bedrooms, 1 1/2 bath, 2 1/2 car garage, screened in porch (!!!), and a huge backyard with trees, all for slightly LESS than we are paying now, and with no pet deposit! ....Yeah. This lady is a huge dog person--she has agility equipment in her backyard--so she is really happy to be helping out fellow animal people, and she is not the least bit concerned about our pets, thanks to Phyllis's good opinion.

Good ride, cowboy.

2009-03-15T07:49:00.000-07:00

I love rodeos. Here are some reasons why:

7. I love any cultural event that brings together a ton of people who have something in common--that's a big reason I love concerts so much.

6. I love that there is almost always a little kid (last night he looked like he must have been 6) on a huge horse learning the ropes with the pick-up men. They are usually in charge of jobs like rounding up the calves after they slip their half-hitch bonds, and they are always impressive riders. A little kid, given that they aren't afraid, is immediately the most natural rider you've ever seen.

5. I should have been a horse person. If we had had more money when I was a kid, we would have had horses. Both my parents have always been broken heartetd that that was something we just couldn't afford. Both of them grew up with horses, but once they had kids and returned to the Southwest, it was an expense they never could quite cover or justify. At the beginning of a rodeo, when I see the pick-up men (which are probably my favorite thing about a rodeo) and the french-braided girls ride around the arena with various flags hoisted high, I get some vague feeling in the pit of my stomach that that could have and maybe should have been me. Of course I wouldn't change anythting in my past--I'm glad for what it was, because I'm glad that I am where I am now. But it is only human nature to consider the possibilities and alternatives.
On the flip side of that, it reminds me that there is nothing in the world stopping me from moving back out west somewhere and throwing in my lot with a bunch of horse people. Horses could be my life in the blink of an eye, if that's what I decided I wanted next.

4. I love horses, and I like watching the Bovines in their various incarnaitons--the wild Brahmas that try 9 times out of 10 to kill their rider, the smaller specimens that get tackled and wrestled down in 6 seconds flat, and the calves that you can't help but simultaneously pity and laugh at as they thud to the ground with that rope around their neck.

3. I love that it is a display of skills that actually matter. Livelihoods are made and broken on the ability to ride a horse, rope and throw down a calf, or stay on a horse that wants you off, NOW.

2. It's such a positive energy. There is no winning or losing team--you always want the cowboy to win. And even when he gets bucked after only 2 seconds, or when that calf gets away from him, the announcer says things like "no shame in that!" and "Good ride, cowboy!" and the crowd cheers just as loudly anyway.

1. I love cowboys, the cowboy illusion, and the cowboy culture. It was a part of me before I was even born, and it was a part of me growing up in a 4H town like Aztec. (Country music in the early '90s was a revival of the cowboy spirit, so songs that figured rodeos and horses as a centerpiece of life were my first impression of that enormous concept, MUSIC. And early memories of multimedia and art had a definite sway on my earliest concepts of what life was, what it was made of, and what it was supposed to be about.) Though, interestingly, I have found that I am only attracted to cowboys the same way I am attracted to a fine piece of art. I find that I want to be part of it, to sit in on that world as much as I can, and yet, I don't think I would ever truly end up with a cowboy. It's like that whole world is something I need to be able to slip into and out of, so that the perfection of the image is never shattered for me.

I found these in one of my Grandm a's boxes of thousands of old pictures:

My dad, age 18. Oh the things he's never told me...

Just a brief note on the impending move.

2009-03-11T19:18:00.000-07:00

I don't know what to write about, but it is becoming increasingly annoying to me that I have not written for some time, so it's time for some brain-vomit to happen.

Tonight Kelsey decided to start looking at some neighborhoods actually in Chicago (as opposed to the surrounding towns) to see if there are any affordable apartments / condos / townhouses there. We're both very intrigued by the prospect of living either in Ukrainian Village or in Albany Park.

Concerning Albany Park, here's what Wikipedia has to say:
"It has one of highest percentages of foreign-born residents of neighborhoods in Chicago. Although the majority of those foreign-born residents are from Latin America, the majority from Mexico (especially from the state of Michoacán) and Guatemala, substantial numbers are from the Philippines, India, Korea, Cambodia, the Former Yugoslavia (Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia), Romania, Pakistan and the Middle East (especially Iraq, Iran, and Lebanon). Over 40 different languages are spoken in its public schools. Due to the diverse population and immigrant population attraction, the population of the neighborhood has increased by 16.5% in the last decade. It is part of the 60625 zip code, which is known as one of the most diverse areas in the entire country."

Here's what I have to say: Heck. Yes.

Concerning Ukrainian Village, according to Wikipedia...
"Although the gentrification of West Town is rapidly changing the demographic, Ukrainian Village continues to be home to approximately 10,000 ethnic Ukrainians. Ukrainian institutions in the neighborhood include the Ukrainian Institute of Modern Art, the Ukrainian National Museum, and the Ukrainian Cultural Center. ^[1]"

Who knows, we still may end up in white-bread Naperville (which still seems like an awesome place to be) instead of white-bread-with-an-accent Ukrainian Village, but they are interesting prospects, to be sure... Obviously, cultural diversity in an area isn't everything, but it's a pretty freaking sweet bonus, if you ask me.

it is not he or she or them or it that you belong to

2009-02-19T22:41:00.000-08:00

Of late I've not written much, because I haven't been inspired, because morale has been at a terrible low. I have woken to most of my days these past two weeks with a grudge against the hours that stretch before me (this primarily due to my ever-growing hatred for my present place of employment). There's a lot going on in me, and I have been loath to talk about it. I guess I don't know who to talk to, and not for lack of friends, confidantes, or willing acquaintances, but for fear of generic answers and conventional, over-worked replies, however well-meant. One big struggle that has been silently eating me alive is my current state of jaded spirituality. I am sick TO DEATH of the generalized, adapted-to-be-supposedly-relevant-to-my-supposedly-modern-life version of an incredibly ancient religion that is so dear to my heart that it pains me.

Forgive me if I don't justify my statements very thoroughly right now... I have kept all this bottled up for fear of offending others and for fear of judgement and for fear of more how-to-improve-your-walk-with-the-Lord lectures and for fear of being misunderstood... for months and months and months now, and I can't do it anymore. First I must express raw content... the clarifications can come later.

Donald Miller wrote the following in Through Painted Deserts:
"I stood there for twenty minutes, and as it had a few times that year, my mind fell across the question why?

"The question terrified me at first. I had only recently begun questioning my faith in God, a kind of commercial, American version of spirituality. I had questions because of the silliness of its presuppositions. The rising question of why had been manifesting for some time, and had previously only been answered by Western Christianity's propositions of behavior modification. What is beauty? I would ask. Here are the five keys to a successful marriage, I would be given as an answer. It was as if nobody was listening to the question being groaned by all of creation, groaned through the pinings of our sexual tensions, our broken biochemistry, the blending of light and smog to make our glorious sunsets. I began to believe the Christian faith was a religious system invented within the human story rather than a series of true ideas that explained the story. Christianity was a pawn for politicians, a morel system to control our broken natures. The religion did seem to stem from something beautiful, for sure, but it had been dumbed down and Westernized. If it was a religious system that explained the human story, its adherents had lost the grandness of its explanation in exchange for its validation of their how lifestyles, to such a degree that the why questions seemed to be drowning in the drool of Pavlov's dogs."

At the risk of sounding like a pouty teen ager, I am sick of being told HOW to do things, how to live my life, how to avoid temptation, how to read my Bible and highlight it with certain colors so I remember certain things better, how I should read my Bible specifically in the morning, how to not say certain words, how to not think certain ideas, how to reject things that are "worldly," how to protest abortion and not believe in evolution and quietly feel sorry for gay people...how to just avoid most experiences period because they are probably going to utterly destroy me. The past 20 years of church have finally set my head reeling with all the things I have been expected to be and do and think and feel. I can't be ungrateful for all that has gone before--it has brought me to this place, and this is not a bad place to be. I know--how can I say this is not a bad place to be when it is clear that I am so frustrated and upset and perplexed? It's because I am ok with re-defining, with re-evaluating and re-thinking. I'm ok with having a total melt-down crisis of faith. No, not a crisis of faith--my faith is unmoved--perhaps I should say a crisis of faith expression. I don't know how to be a Christian anymore, and I care less and less every day. "...the silliness of its presuppositions..." very accurately spoken, in my view. I love God, and I love people.

Until further notice, the rest are just details to me.

(Comments welcome.)