I dreamt last night that I was passionately in love with a faceless man. I woke up this morning and could not decide who he was.
I dreamt last night that I worked for the Pope. All day I have been deeply considering an administrative or directorial role in the Catholic Church. Some how that kind of ministry seems so right. Like working for Mark Carter only times 1 million.
Dreams often haunt my reality. This is partially why I watch movies in the morning, to avoid feeling all day the remnants and shadows of those powerful emotions that rack my soul through the night. I am amazed at my capacity to feel while sleeping, when all inhibitions are gone and there is no one to see my embarrassment. I love that. I want to live that.
Today I found out that my favorite coworker is "no longer with the company". My boss told me not to show so many of my emotions about the "transition" on my face and in my voice. I wanted to tell her punch herself in the face. (Really my brain had a much more forceful and explicit response to her suggestions, but I have been decidedly diligent about keeping this blog "family friendly"). I relayed to her that she has seen me through four "transitions" (transition means a coworker leaves the company and I am required to take over their job duties) in my 1.5 years with this company, and she knows that this is what I am like in times of change. I take my time adjusting, especially when I don't know what I am walking into. Her response? "You'll be fine."
Of course I will be fine. I excel at fine. However, I will not be untrue to myself by pretending I am not concerned. I understand that she is concerned about keeping a healthy office environment, as a full uprising in such a time of change would be no good for anyone. I can do my job, be professional, and excel at fine, and still be upset.
I choose to be upset. I choose to respond appropriately to the burning of Scotland, by screaming FIRE FIRE FIRE! and not watch my loved ones burn with a look of calm professionalism on my face.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
too many...
I went on three dates in a 24 hour period. 3. I find this simultaneously hilarious and exhausting. And stupid.
I will never do this again for these reasons:
1. I can feel myself ceasing to treat these people as humans.
2. I am becoming more and more checklisty and objective with them, rather than interactive and subjective.
3. I feel like an empty shell with no soul.
4. and a prostitute.
Is this really supposed to be this difficult? Maybe I waited to long to date again, and now I have unrealistic expectations and a calloused heart. Or maybe one date isn't enough to tell. Or maybe (and this is mostly likely the case) I seriously don't know what the hell I'm doing because I have only been in one relationship, and I knew I was going to love him before we even started dating, and I am looking for that same foreknowledge again, except it will never happen again, but I used it up on the last guy. (I am extremely aware of the length of that sentence and the rambling nature of this blog. You will have to excuse it. It is after all 12:10 in the morning and I only just ate my first meal of yesterday about 20 minutes ago.)
That's my next topic. How did I manage to go more that 24 hours without food and not notice my craving. I seriously wanted nothing. Bizarre. I think there is something wrong with me. Leprosy of the soul. I can feel no pain, no love, no emotion because my soul is disease ridden.
Okay now that I have self diagnosed myself with something as embarrassing as leprosy, I am going to bed.
I will never do this again for these reasons:
1. I can feel myself ceasing to treat these people as humans.
2. I am becoming more and more checklisty and objective with them, rather than interactive and subjective.
3. I feel like an empty shell with no soul.
4. and a prostitute.
Is this really supposed to be this difficult? Maybe I waited to long to date again, and now I have unrealistic expectations and a calloused heart. Or maybe one date isn't enough to tell. Or maybe (and this is mostly likely the case) I seriously don't know what the hell I'm doing because I have only been in one relationship, and I knew I was going to love him before we even started dating, and I am looking for that same foreknowledge again, except it will never happen again, but I used it up on the last guy. (I am extremely aware of the length of that sentence and the rambling nature of this blog. You will have to excuse it. It is after all 12:10 in the morning and I only just ate my first meal of yesterday about 20 minutes ago.)
That's my next topic. How did I manage to go more that 24 hours without food and not notice my craving. I seriously wanted nothing. Bizarre. I think there is something wrong with me. Leprosy of the soul. I can feel no pain, no love, no emotion because my soul is disease ridden.
Okay now that I have self diagnosed myself with something as embarrassing as leprosy, I am going to bed.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
a beating heart
A beating heart,
these rushing veins,
the rolling stomach,
my storming thoughts....
How I love date anticipation.
Almost as much as I love:
sunny afternoons after rainy mornings,
the ability to understand my sister's unnameable emotion,
knowing I will see my neph and nieceling this weekend,
coffee,
looking my counselor in the face and telling her that I feel I know myself again,
having my counselor look me in the face and tell me how graceful I am (HOLY ISHMAEL! She used the word graceful!... see below for context)
normal life. And knowing a little what normal life means...
So about my counselor. She told me I have lived gracefully. Over and over and over, over these years my prayer has been grace. Not just physical grace, but emotional, and spiritual grace. I have always wanted it. I felt confirmed. Loved. I felt grown up.
Props on a good day Jesus.
Hoping your evening tea tasted as good as mine and was shared with as lovely of a person...
b.
normal life. And knowing a little what normal life means...
So about my counselor. She told me I have lived gracefully. Over and over and over, over these years my prayer has been grace. Not just physical grace, but emotional, and spiritual grace. I have always wanted it. I felt confirmed. Loved. I felt grown up.
Props on a good day Jesus.
Hoping your evening tea tasted as good as mine and was shared with as lovely of a person...
b.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Like shooting a sitting duck...
Abba has provided me with today's post title. The song goes like this "It was like shooting a sitting duck. A little small talk, a smile, and baby, I was stuck. I still don't know what you've done to me. A grown up woman should never fall so easily."
I have not fallen in love. Don't worry. I won't spring it on you like that. You'll know before I do, I'm sure...
I am, however, having one of the most fabulous days. A Patient Bass from choir asked me out last night, after nearly two months of waiting. So we will have dinner tomorrow night, and see what comes. Turns out he is older than I had thought, but still only 9 years my senior (almost to the day... he was born on the 4th of July... hehe). I am happy. Work is turning into one of the most splendiferous days I have had in the office in quite some time as I am doing quite well in my respective climate. This turned my happy day into a wonderful day. My mother is caring for herself, which made my wonderful day into a fabulous day. My weekend became unexpectedly open just five minutes ago, which turned my fabulous day into an incomprehensible, oh no when is the bad news going to hit, Please Jesus don't take this away, kind of day. The point is, if it is really so easy to make me float on a cloud of incomprehensible joy, why has it been so difficult to find this wonderful spot of fabulous fluttering freedom that is imbibing my veins, my heart, indeed my very soul? Oh how I can't tell you how I love this moment.
I have recently (as in twice in the last week) watched The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian. Several spots in this movie moved me, and I must admit that it was much better than the first. One moment I love, is when reepacheep's tail is regrown by Aslan. Aslan does this not for reepacheep's pride, or humility, or loyalty, but "for the love of your people". I adore this. Next, and this is the thought provoking one that made me write about the movie in the first place, was when King Peter says, "It is not what I expected but it is alright, I think." Allow me to show you what I expected.
I know. He's beautiful. Wanting what we can't have, and especially when that thing is had by something much greater than ourselves and to a greater end, is disappointing in a way that is so right it does not seem human. Or possibly it is so human that it is incomprehensible to this me that is still learning the most of the humanity. Don't think I am crazy for crushing on a Priest. It's not like a normal crush. It's like my crush on John Prendergast or George Clooney or Don Cheadle. It's the kind where I would marry any of them (though all of them are either married, strongly connected, or celibate) in this very moment, just because of the men they have made of themselves, even if they are not the most fabulous people (although I childishly believe them to the most perfected imperfect men I've encountered still living today). This is also how I feel about Jesus. I would follow him (and His Father) into eternity, just because of what they are... even if who they are turns out to be really horrifying.
However, I am thinking today, that maybe this is not the best of all things. Possibly what is best, is not what I expect, but something altogether different. And that may just be alright. Or possibly acknowledging that there are things that I would pine for, even while knowing that having them is not right. For example, I would never want a priest to leave the priesthood for me. That would be wrong in the worst way. So maybe it is not horrible to acknowledge what I want, what is there for me, and what I can't have... like unrequited love and its nobility. Maybe I just don't know what I'm talking about.
Maybe.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
A certain newness
The passing of death brings a certain newness to live. When Death sweeps down over one's world, that moment of sheer reality settles in a new way into our views of tomorrow, and of today. I have known this newness.
I feel fresh, and yet darkened by my recent life. As though there is hope because something ended, leaving space for something to begin, and yet, I cannot shake the despair that haunts me because after all of my work, nothing could prevent the inevitable pain. Love is like this. I know it's going to hurt, no matter who I love, or where, or when, or how. But I walk into anyway, because there just is no other choice.
There is most decidedly a new perspective on peace. I desire it so fully now, that I even annoy myself when I seek to be the person those around me will recognize. I recognize me, but I fear no one else will. I also no longer have confidence in what I want.
Right now, for a couple of weeks now, I have wanted nothing more than to teach children. What is that? I want to teach preschool again. Alas this job will never pay enough, but how I want it. Maybe it's not even that. I want to feel that old value of my job, that there is growth possible, change imminent, and success achievable. That is readily, daily, hourly available in a preschool, and it comes custom wrapped in cute, snotty, messy, and lovable three year olds. I miss it.
More superficially, there are two men right now. One adores me (direct quote "thinks you walk on water"... hehe) but has not asked me out. I am frustrated by this. One can't make up his mind. He has the girl he wants but can't have in New York, the girl he has but doesn't want in DC, and me, the girl he talks to all the time and watches LOST with. I do not want the second. I just don't know what to do with him. If I thought I could get away with it I would take him outside, smack his face, and then sit him down for a lecture about what it means to grow up. The first one however, is a little boring, but normal. I could use a little normal at the moment.
So, I wish you all a happy Tuesday. I will sing tonight, and sleep after drinking.
PS. Watch this movie: Then She Found Me
PPS. Here is another bit of newness:
I feel fresh, and yet darkened by my recent life. As though there is hope because something ended, leaving space for something to begin, and yet, I cannot shake the despair that haunts me because after all of my work, nothing could prevent the inevitable pain. Love is like this. I know it's going to hurt, no matter who I love, or where, or when, or how. But I walk into anyway, because there just is no other choice.
There is most decidedly a new perspective on peace. I desire it so fully now, that I even annoy myself when I seek to be the person those around me will recognize. I recognize me, but I fear no one else will. I also no longer have confidence in what I want.
Right now, for a couple of weeks now, I have wanted nothing more than to teach children. What is that? I want to teach preschool again. Alas this job will never pay enough, but how I want it. Maybe it's not even that. I want to feel that old value of my job, that there is growth possible, change imminent, and success achievable. That is readily, daily, hourly available in a preschool, and it comes custom wrapped in cute, snotty, messy, and lovable three year olds. I miss it.
More superficially, there are two men right now. One adores me (direct quote "thinks you walk on water"... hehe) but has not asked me out. I am frustrated by this. One can't make up his mind. He has the girl he wants but can't have in New York, the girl he has but doesn't want in DC, and me, the girl he talks to all the time and watches LOST with. I do not want the second. I just don't know what to do with him. If I thought I could get away with it I would take him outside, smack his face, and then sit him down for a lecture about what it means to grow up. The first one however, is a little boring, but normal. I could use a little normal at the moment.
So, I wish you all a happy Tuesday. I will sing tonight, and sleep after drinking.
PS. Watch this movie: Then She Found Me
PPS. Here is another bit of newness:
Thursday, April 23, 2009
On Niecelings, Groceries, and Loshon Hora
First and most certainly foremost, I have a nieceling. Adorable baby girl, Ella Clarice, my heart is glad to know you, to see you, to hold you. Pictures soon to come, but I will tell you she is a dark beauty with a sweet little coo and deep soulful black eyes. She is more than the mischievously pampered princess I was. At least at 12 hours old, she seems that way to me.
Groceries are hard to buy. I want to do it. I want to be good at it. I love to cook, I love to shop, and so it would make sense that I would love Groceries. Oh but the chore they are, with my limited and too quickly filled time. I want to make Groceries an adventure. I want to make Groceries fun. I want to be able to say that I accomplished Grocery shopping. Not online.
The very real topic of today’s blog is this: Loshon Hora. For those of you who do not know Hebrew, Loshon Hora means “Evil Tongue”, and is a prohibition of gossip in Jewish Law. Gossip is like an illness in my office. It happens. Every. Single. Day. I try to do the disinterested blank stare, I try to sway the person on to other topics, I try to remind them of all of the good things about the person they are currently trash-talking… but the moment inevitably comes when my boundaries fail me and I fall into the trap. I join in, I gossip. Then I hear the ringing voice of the ever-humble coworker, “LOSHON HORA!” and I shut my mouth, I cringe inside, and I know I will never be good at this. I am determined not to give up. I will, I will, I will, not gossip. It wasn’t a problem before I came to this office. It was a problem until I began to work just inches from another female coworker. Now it eats away at my soul.
*Note, this is the blog I started and did not finish on Tuesday, April 21st. Before the death of my uncle. I thought I should finish it and post it, and then write another on the aftermath of such an event. That post is soon to come.
Groceries are hard to buy. I want to do it. I want to be good at it. I love to cook, I love to shop, and so it would make sense that I would love Groceries. Oh but the chore they are, with my limited and too quickly filled time. I want to make Groceries an adventure. I want to make Groceries fun. I want to be able to say that I accomplished Grocery shopping. Not online.
The very real topic of today’s blog is this: Loshon Hora. For those of you who do not know Hebrew, Loshon Hora means “Evil Tongue”, and is a prohibition of gossip in Jewish Law. Gossip is like an illness in my office. It happens. Every. Single. Day. I try to do the disinterested blank stare, I try to sway the person on to other topics, I try to remind them of all of the good things about the person they are currently trash-talking… but the moment inevitably comes when my boundaries fail me and I fall into the trap. I join in, I gossip. Then I hear the ringing voice of the ever-humble coworker, “LOSHON HORA!” and I shut my mouth, I cringe inside, and I know I will never be good at this. I am determined not to give up. I will, I will, I will, not gossip. It wasn’t a problem before I came to this office. It was a problem until I began to work just inches from another female coworker. Now it eats away at my soul.
*Note, this is the blog I started and did not finish on Tuesday, April 21st. Before the death of my uncle. I thought I should finish it and post it, and then write another on the aftermath of such an event. That post is soon to come.
Monday, April 13, 2009
A woman must come of age herself..."
"... She must find her true center alone". - Anne Marrow Lindbergh (A Gift from the Sea)
Coming into this life alone is a difficult task. These past couple of weeks have been difficult in a new way. Differentiation (as my counselor would call it) has given me the freedom to take responsibility for my life, and the responsibility to take freedom for my life.
I started this blog four days ago and am only now posting it. Is that not ridiculous? I wanted to write about the book I quoted at the beginning, in full detail, give a book review. But I can't. I keep going back and looking for those quotes that moved me, that moment when it all made sense. I can't put it down in a blog. I would have to retype the book, and I'm not sure blogspot would allow me a blog that long. Also, honestly, some of that is gone at the moment. Isaiah 54, the meaning, the words, they hold true as they did two weeks ago at the ocean, but that rush is gone.
Today I read Hosea. again. I startled myself when I went for a stroll post-read. This thought came to me, "I am waiting for a man to prove how much God loves me" Now let me explain:
I know and have no ability to doubt the presence of God in my life in the world.
I know Christ and that He is love
I know that my faith requires none of that love. That God is God and I am Becca and that alone is enough of a reason for me to be obedient to his every command. Even if he turns out to be an evil and vindictive jerk.
I know that God loves. lots of people. and me.
I know that I do not feel that love regularly. consistently. or with much of my being.
I know that I have been waiting to see what kind of man God gives me and that that alone would be the measure for me to know how much He loves me. just this little me.
This moment when all of that swept over me made two reactions simultaneously.
1. I feel to my knees and began to weep
2. I looked back on my years and wondered how this had happened. I remembered words from Sara Borden two or three years ago, "it's not about the husband".
I was crushed that I was this person. I have felt secure in one thing lately: My faith. I know God has been throwing curve balls like crazy, I know that my life has not included as much "God/Community/Church" time as it once did, I know all of the etc.'s included here... but my faith is stronger than ever. My faith that I am a sinner and that Christ is Christ, and that all of the other stuff will work itself out.
Now I feel rocked. Shaken. Shuddered. I know that I desperately want God to bring me a man that shouldn't love me, but does anyway. I want to be so immensely surprised by this love that I can not explain how it happened to anyone. I want a love like Christ's only flawed and human.
I want my perfectly flawed one. I want Jesus to prove to me that he is willing to give me one amazing and lasting and truly good thing. However. I do not want that to be my measure of God's love. I do want to truly be righteously okay with lifelong celibacy, and I want to know that the reason I am okay with this is because I am okay with it and not because I think that is what it will take to get me a man.
I am sitting here now, shaking my head at myself. and I don't know what to do about it.
PS. I did match.com. Now I feel like a prostitute. a lot.
Coming into this life alone is a difficult task. These past couple of weeks have been difficult in a new way. Differentiation (as my counselor would call it) has given me the freedom to take responsibility for my life, and the responsibility to take freedom for my life.
I started this blog four days ago and am only now posting it. Is that not ridiculous? I wanted to write about the book I quoted at the beginning, in full detail, give a book review. But I can't. I keep going back and looking for those quotes that moved me, that moment when it all made sense. I can't put it down in a blog. I would have to retype the book, and I'm not sure blogspot would allow me a blog that long. Also, honestly, some of that is gone at the moment. Isaiah 54, the meaning, the words, they hold true as they did two weeks ago at the ocean, but that rush is gone.
Today I read Hosea. again. I startled myself when I went for a stroll post-read. This thought came to me, "I am waiting for a man to prove how much God loves me" Now let me explain:
I know and have no ability to doubt the presence of God in my life in the world.
I know Christ and that He is love
I know that my faith requires none of that love. That God is God and I am Becca and that alone is enough of a reason for me to be obedient to his every command. Even if he turns out to be an evil and vindictive jerk.
I know that God loves. lots of people. and me.
I know that I do not feel that love regularly. consistently. or with much of my being.
I know that I have been waiting to see what kind of man God gives me and that that alone would be the measure for me to know how much He loves me. just this little me.
This moment when all of that swept over me made two reactions simultaneously.
1. I feel to my knees and began to weep
2. I looked back on my years and wondered how this had happened. I remembered words from Sara Borden two or three years ago, "it's not about the husband".
I was crushed that I was this person. I have felt secure in one thing lately: My faith. I know God has been throwing curve balls like crazy, I know that my life has not included as much "God/Community/Church" time as it once did, I know all of the etc.'s included here... but my faith is stronger than ever. My faith that I am a sinner and that Christ is Christ, and that all of the other stuff will work itself out.
Now I feel rocked. Shaken. Shuddered. I know that I desperately want God to bring me a man that shouldn't love me, but does anyway. I want to be so immensely surprised by this love that I can not explain how it happened to anyone. I want a love like Christ's only flawed and human.
I want my perfectly flawed one. I want Jesus to prove to me that he is willing to give me one amazing and lasting and truly good thing. However. I do not want that to be my measure of God's love. I do want to truly be righteously okay with lifelong celibacy, and I want to know that the reason I am okay with this is because I am okay with it and not because I think that is what it will take to get me a man.
In spite of all of this, I know I don't have the energy to dwell on men at the moment. I don't want to. I feel sick with it all. It is so three months ago... hehe. The point is that I thought I was over the man vs god thing in college. I thought I was over it when I broke up with Andrew knowing whole-heartedly that I may be giving up my one chance at marriage... and doing it anyways because I thought I was choosing God over him (oh how naive I was... or maybe just stupid).
I am sitting here now, shaking my head at myself. and I don't know what to do about it.
PS. I did match.com. Now I feel like a prostitute. a lot.
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