seems you've lost your concentration
and the result is this painful evaporation
wasted words like snow flakes on still warm concrete
never stood a chance with even waning heat
and i can only reach so far
dancing for balance
and yet holding to the par
breaks my heart
little by little
bit by small bit
you've seen me crumble
think you can't help it
but what i ask
not so great a task
is just remember
when you loved me.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Head Space: Paralyzing and Intriguing
I open the page to pour out my thoughts, and they evaporate; disappearing like the fog of my breath would on this winter night. Then before me sits the blankness, again. Paralyzing, and intriguing.
Lately everything feels different than I thought it would, and I haven't known how to put it to words. I've felt strange; not myself. Out of body, but painfully present. [These are simply musings, not meant to allude or draw alarm. Just musings.] And through an onslaught of emotions and feelings that I haven't recognized by their names, I have been at a loss for the right words. I have been afraid to try to apply description to sentiments I don't myself understand, let alone for someone else to try.
I'm one so often lost in my own thoughts, that I typically have a good handle on myself; what I feel, what I think, what I do. So to an extent it's been troublesome not to understand myself, but not worrisome that I'm at any actual risk. Just confusion.
And the confusion arises from a feeling that's quite unfamiliar to me, though I think accurately describes it and that's: discontentment.
Maybe it's now that I'm growing up, seeing life from a realistic perspective that it's more challenging than I've previously thought. I'm an optimist, and a pleaser, but life is so very different than I've ever seen it. It's becoming harder to give the benefit of the doubt. It's been harder to graciously withstand ruthless ways and selfishness. To be giving is no longer a virtue but a weakness.
I guess what I'm realizing is that I feel a little jaded. A little bit like, I don't know what's worthwhile right now; cause it seems like barely anything is good and lasting. If anything good lasts, it destroys something else in it's birth. It's like the simple explanation of mortality that a parent might give to their child: for every death their is a new life. And I feel like in my life, so many things have passed, that I'm wearily waiting and checking the horizon for the new.
I am by no means despairing now but I was not long ago. The purpose of these thoughts exposed is not to draw attention or pull out emotion - it's that I simply can't not express. Pardon the double negative...I think there's value in expression. In discussing wisely when things aren't perfect.
And I am the type, that in feeling the impending weight of the human condition, seeks to notice and cherish what's good and life-giving; to count blessings, if you will. Being an optimist, I am prone to finding and, at times, creating the silver lining.
All this is to say, I have been wondering (yes, wondering) through a lot of head-space, and I think I've found what to call this foreign feeling that I am learning to overcome. So it's not a defeat but a victory, learning to be content. Finding joy and worth in times of mediocrity. Cherishing what's good and what's there.
Lately everything feels different than I thought it would, and I haven't known how to put it to words. I've felt strange; not myself. Out of body, but painfully present. [These are simply musings, not meant to allude or draw alarm. Just musings.] And through an onslaught of emotions and feelings that I haven't recognized by their names, I have been at a loss for the right words. I have been afraid to try to apply description to sentiments I don't myself understand, let alone for someone else to try.
I'm one so often lost in my own thoughts, that I typically have a good handle on myself; what I feel, what I think, what I do. So to an extent it's been troublesome not to understand myself, but not worrisome that I'm at any actual risk. Just confusion.
And the confusion arises from a feeling that's quite unfamiliar to me, though I think accurately describes it and that's: discontentment.
Maybe it's now that I'm growing up, seeing life from a realistic perspective that it's more challenging than I've previously thought. I'm an optimist, and a pleaser, but life is so very different than I've ever seen it. It's becoming harder to give the benefit of the doubt. It's been harder to graciously withstand ruthless ways and selfishness. To be giving is no longer a virtue but a weakness.
I guess what I'm realizing is that I feel a little jaded. A little bit like, I don't know what's worthwhile right now; cause it seems like barely anything is good and lasting. If anything good lasts, it destroys something else in it's birth. It's like the simple explanation of mortality that a parent might give to their child: for every death their is a new life. And I feel like in my life, so many things have passed, that I'm wearily waiting and checking the horizon for the new.
I am by no means despairing now but I was not long ago. The purpose of these thoughts exposed is not to draw attention or pull out emotion - it's that I simply can't not express. Pardon the double negative...I think there's value in expression. In discussing wisely when things aren't perfect.
And I am the type, that in feeling the impending weight of the human condition, seeks to notice and cherish what's good and life-giving; to count blessings, if you will. Being an optimist, I am prone to finding and, at times, creating the silver lining.
All this is to say, I have been wondering (yes, wondering) through a lot of head-space, and I think I've found what to call this foreign feeling that I am learning to overcome. So it's not a defeat but a victory, learning to be content. Finding joy and worth in times of mediocrity. Cherishing what's good and what's there.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Here, Where
And here we find ourselves,
Where,
All loyalty is lost.
Lines are blurred and crossed,
This sense of self
and self-construction
only result in certain self-destruction
we turn off the concern
and so exchange it for panic
coming to in open waters
turns free into manic
flailing and wailing
longing for some sense of direction
but no one wants to hear they're wrong
only right
and we're all right
and we're alright
we're the sudden silence
of a war-torn night
but don't look now.
Where,
All loyalty is lost.
Lines are blurred and crossed,
This sense of self
and self-construction
only result in certain self-destruction
we turn off the concern
and so exchange it for panic
coming to in open waters
turns free into manic
flailing and wailing
longing for some sense of direction
but no one wants to hear they're wrong
only right
and we're all right
and we're alright
we're the sudden silence
of a war-torn night
but don't look now.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
[I am thankful for Joy]
I count myself thankful for the root of Joy
that was bestowed upon me
in my formation; before breath...
though the world try to beat it down,
it is resilient!
I grip to it
so not to lose unto death
but it has a quiet way
a strength to surpass all others
and if a part of me withers
it is an endless tether
permeating the dirt of me,
keeping me true
[I am thankful for Joy]
that was bestowed upon me
in my formation; before breath...
though the world try to beat it down,
it is resilient!
I grip to it
so not to lose unto death
but it has a quiet way
a strength to surpass all others
and if a part of me withers
it is an endless tether
permeating the dirt of me,
keeping me true
[I am thankful for Joy]
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Who Makes the Cut?
Mostly I think about people.
I am a people person. I am an extrovert. I get depressed if I spend too much time alone. I think I even cope, by thinking about people. I think about interactions. I think about personalities. I think about memories: moments, laughs, fights, developments. I'm fascinated by people. Interpersonal relationships. They're wonderful and terrible; perfect and completely messy. They're impossible to turn into facts and figures, yet we constantly try. Every person-to-person interaction is different, though they may appear similar. A relationship may seem like it's one you'd never not have, and the next thing you know you're mutually letting go. It's irreparable.
I've been thinking about this lately; I've had a lot of time to myself lately, and so I've been doing a lot of thinking. You could probably guess that I've been thinking about people. (If I'd had more interest in studying and had been more sure of myself, I probably should've majored in psychology.) There are a handful of reasons I have so much time alone lately, one of them is arguably of my own doing. And I've been thinking about it. This is why I don't like being alone, - too much time spent thinking.
I've never been great at standing up for myself. It's always felt like an impertinence. Whether that's personality or growing up as the youngest of six, I don't know, but I still don't really like it. There have been a couple people from whom I've either cut myself off completely, or just strongly backed away, in efforts to protect myself. In my...solitude, for lack of another synonym with more accurate connotation, I've been thinking about this. And I know, by some I've been thought less of because of it. So the question has been haunting me as to whether this is an acceptable practice.
I mean, do we really have to like everybody?
I tend to try not to let someone know if I don't like them; no need to be rude about it, but I'm also not going to give my time to someone who is going to waste it and trample me in the process. My time alone has had me pondering those choices; questioning the existence of a balance. Is there a balance of tolerating the seemingly intolerable because it is the nicer thing to do, and walking away because your heart can't take it anymore? The tolerant, nice side of me keeps coming to the surface with this question, - this doubt rather, that there's never a time to walk away. That walking away is weak.
I think the only glaring difference is walking away without clarity; without answers. I think that's the reason I have trouble feeling okay about those decisions, is because I never had closure. I only hit my breaking point. I found the place where I didn't know what else to do and had to let go without explanation. The other is free to go, not knowing why it was worth it for me to quit.
My sister was telling me, a speaker named Graham Cooke refers to some people as "Grace Growers". I couldn't help but think about that: what if those were my grace growers? Is it possible that I ran out? Just in those moments, and those times, - those relationships, and those people were the unfortunate victims of me not having enough to give them?
All this to say, I've been on the receiving end of The Cut before, and admittedly, I've made the decision myself as well. If ever I come to this again, I hope I'll make the decision with different eyes. I can't say I won't do it again, because sometimes a relationship feels fatal, but I do hope I can avoid this as much as possible in life.
Hold on to the ones that stretch capacity for love and ability to apply grace.
I am a people person. I am an extrovert. I get depressed if I spend too much time alone. I think I even cope, by thinking about people. I think about interactions. I think about personalities. I think about memories: moments, laughs, fights, developments. I'm fascinated by people. Interpersonal relationships. They're wonderful and terrible; perfect and completely messy. They're impossible to turn into facts and figures, yet we constantly try. Every person-to-person interaction is different, though they may appear similar. A relationship may seem like it's one you'd never not have, and the next thing you know you're mutually letting go. It's irreparable.
I've been thinking about this lately; I've had a lot of time to myself lately, and so I've been doing a lot of thinking. You could probably guess that I've been thinking about people. (If I'd had more interest in studying and had been more sure of myself, I probably should've majored in psychology.) There are a handful of reasons I have so much time alone lately, one of them is arguably of my own doing. And I've been thinking about it. This is why I don't like being alone, - too much time spent thinking.
I've never been great at standing up for myself. It's always felt like an impertinence. Whether that's personality or growing up as the youngest of six, I don't know, but I still don't really like it. There have been a couple people from whom I've either cut myself off completely, or just strongly backed away, in efforts to protect myself. In my...solitude, for lack of another synonym with more accurate connotation, I've been thinking about this. And I know, by some I've been thought less of because of it. So the question has been haunting me as to whether this is an acceptable practice.
I mean, do we really have to like everybody?
I tend to try not to let someone know if I don't like them; no need to be rude about it, but I'm also not going to give my time to someone who is going to waste it and trample me in the process. My time alone has had me pondering those choices; questioning the existence of a balance. Is there a balance of tolerating the seemingly intolerable because it is the nicer thing to do, and walking away because your heart can't take it anymore? The tolerant, nice side of me keeps coming to the surface with this question, - this doubt rather, that there's never a time to walk away. That walking away is weak.
I think the only glaring difference is walking away without clarity; without answers. I think that's the reason I have trouble feeling okay about those decisions, is because I never had closure. I only hit my breaking point. I found the place where I didn't know what else to do and had to let go without explanation. The other is free to go, not knowing why it was worth it for me to quit.
My sister was telling me, a speaker named Graham Cooke refers to some people as "Grace Growers". I couldn't help but think about that: what if those were my grace growers? Is it possible that I ran out? Just in those moments, and those times, - those relationships, and those people were the unfortunate victims of me not having enough to give them?
All this to say, I've been on the receiving end of The Cut before, and admittedly, I've made the decision myself as well. If ever I come to this again, I hope I'll make the decision with different eyes. I can't say I won't do it again, because sometimes a relationship feels fatal, but I do hope I can avoid this as much as possible in life.
Hold on to the ones that stretch capacity for love and ability to apply grace.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Beginning a New Journal: Sept 8, 2012
I love this journal so much I didn't even want to break the binding. It's lovely, and I wanted to begin it with something lovely, but those kinds of words are a little for me to come by these days.
I'm at Logan Park, it's a beautiful evening; it was a beautiful day. It didn't even feel like it. Hence I took to my bike, journal in tow. I wanted to go somewhere beautiful, somewhere that didn't make me hate life...if only for a minute. It didn't feel like a beautiful day.
I spend all day inside, at the wrong temperature, just looking at a taunting outdoors. I think about what I'll do when I get off work, but inevitably I'm too beat to chase the adventure my heart craves and then invents.
I'm listening, now, to the dwindling remnant sounds of children in the park at twilight. a couple walking their dog pass me a second time. It's a beautiful evening, though the breeze has my every hair on end and my body on the verge of shivers. I welcome it. It's been a hot, humid summer, though not even one of our worst.
And though it's dark out, I wish someone would come and talk with me. Lately, I've had the longing for the spark of new relationship. A chance to meet someone new, and investigate them. Try them on; feel them out. If I like it, lay ground rules: no taking advantage of me, no lying, no walking away, no secrets, no assumptions or presumptions, no holding back - tears or laughter -, no letting go when it's convenient. Be present, be invested.
Instead, I sit, on the bench, looking out over an ever-darkening field, the clouds in the distance occasionally shimmering, alone. Only thinking that if I met someone who'd let me set the rules, and also hold me to them...it would be perfect. If only there were such a thing, as someone I could trust; someone who would treat me like I deserve, and love me, that would be perfect. Ideal. Ideal.
The wind washes over me, playing with the whispies in my hair. This is the closest I think I ever feel to love. That's why I come here and sit, alone. I can pretend that even though I don't speak, the wind hears my thoughts and cherishes these musings. I can come and feel like beauty loves me back. Its touches, looks, and hushes tell me. And we're together, without care.
Beauty loves me back.
I'm at Logan Park, it's a beautiful evening; it was a beautiful day. It didn't even feel like it. Hence I took to my bike, journal in tow. I wanted to go somewhere beautiful, somewhere that didn't make me hate life...if only for a minute. It didn't feel like a beautiful day.
I spend all day inside, at the wrong temperature, just looking at a taunting outdoors. I think about what I'll do when I get off work, but inevitably I'm too beat to chase the adventure my heart craves and then invents.
I'm listening, now, to the dwindling remnant sounds of children in the park at twilight. a couple walking their dog pass me a second time. It's a beautiful evening, though the breeze has my every hair on end and my body on the verge of shivers. I welcome it. It's been a hot, humid summer, though not even one of our worst.
And though it's dark out, I wish someone would come and talk with me. Lately, I've had the longing for the spark of new relationship. A chance to meet someone new, and investigate them. Try them on; feel them out. If I like it, lay ground rules: no taking advantage of me, no lying, no walking away, no secrets, no assumptions or presumptions, no holding back - tears or laughter -, no letting go when it's convenient. Be present, be invested.
Instead, I sit, on the bench, looking out over an ever-darkening field, the clouds in the distance occasionally shimmering, alone. Only thinking that if I met someone who'd let me set the rules, and also hold me to them...it would be perfect. If only there were such a thing, as someone I could trust; someone who would treat me like I deserve, and love me, that would be perfect. Ideal. Ideal.
The wind washes over me, playing with the whispies in my hair. This is the closest I think I ever feel to love. That's why I come here and sit, alone. I can pretend that even though I don't speak, the wind hears my thoughts and cherishes these musings. I can come and feel like beauty loves me back. Its touches, looks, and hushes tell me. And we're together, without care.
Beauty loves me back.
Friday, September 07, 2012
The Now
Fall always gets me. I begin to love life again. Summer is great for some things it offers, but fall will always snag my heart.
I had a bit of a rough patch the past week or so. It's like when the you-know-what hits, it HITS. But I had this realization that it's a snare. It's a snare. I could be dragged down, and I could make the same choices as all the rest, but the point is to have discernment and trust, and a happiness that confounds people. How when life is what it is, can you still find joy?
It's not just a change of the weather, it's not just that last week was bad and this week is better. Last week, a lot of bad crap went down, but this week my life is still in the wake of that. This week I'm choosing to walk in an attitude of grace, joy, and expectancy. I went to work yesterday, and for some random reason I just had a great day at work. Great! I haven't had a great day at work in, God knows how long!
And I miss that. I miss the times in my life when I was good at taking each day as it comes, and not constantly wondering about when I'm going to get to something better. What's wrong with right now? What is meant for right now?
There's always something to be done; to be achieved or enjoyed. I hate to be so era-specific, but I kind of like "YOLO". I mean, let's be real, that existed before it became a stupid, over-used acronym. None the less, it's something that we should think about more. Why be a jerk to your waitress (or barista), when you could be nice? Why hoard things, when you could give them away? Why be in a bad mood, when you could brighten someone's day? Why worry, when you have no control anyway?
I've been especially irked lately by the hypocrisy of christians. Myself included. Man, I can be such a hypocrite. A variety of ways. One of them is being so discontent with my life, when I should be enjoying it all the time...yolo. But seriously.
I guess discontentment isn't limited to mis-focused Christians. Everyone gets it. In general, I've been trying to focus on (I promise so far I kind of suck at it) putting other people first - which is so the opposite of how people think these days! Wouldn't it just be interesting? Interesting that someone would say, even though I'm tired and feel like a royal sack of crap, I will smile at you when I hand you your coffee and genuinely wish you a great day. Part of the tough thing is people don't notice as much as you want them to; the doormat effect.
So this has been and will be my challenge to myself. The challenge to totally enjoy life. As much as humanly possible.
I'm sentimental and pensive, so the change of seasons makes me think about how I could change. Cliche, yes. Effective? Maybe. Try it, you might like it.
I had a bit of a rough patch the past week or so. It's like when the you-know-what hits, it HITS. But I had this realization that it's a snare. It's a snare. I could be dragged down, and I could make the same choices as all the rest, but the point is to have discernment and trust, and a happiness that confounds people. How when life is what it is, can you still find joy?
It's not just a change of the weather, it's not just that last week was bad and this week is better. Last week, a lot of bad crap went down, but this week my life is still in the wake of that. This week I'm choosing to walk in an attitude of grace, joy, and expectancy. I went to work yesterday, and for some random reason I just had a great day at work. Great! I haven't had a great day at work in, God knows how long!
And I miss that. I miss the times in my life when I was good at taking each day as it comes, and not constantly wondering about when I'm going to get to something better. What's wrong with right now? What is meant for right now?
There's always something to be done; to be achieved or enjoyed. I hate to be so era-specific, but I kind of like "YOLO". I mean, let's be real, that existed before it became a stupid, over-used acronym. None the less, it's something that we should think about more. Why be a jerk to your waitress (or barista), when you could be nice? Why hoard things, when you could give them away? Why be in a bad mood, when you could brighten someone's day? Why worry, when you have no control anyway?
I've been especially irked lately by the hypocrisy of christians. Myself included. Man, I can be such a hypocrite. A variety of ways. One of them is being so discontent with my life, when I should be enjoying it all the time...yolo. But seriously.
I guess discontentment isn't limited to mis-focused Christians. Everyone gets it. In general, I've been trying to focus on (I promise so far I kind of suck at it) putting other people first - which is so the opposite of how people think these days! Wouldn't it just be interesting? Interesting that someone would say, even though I'm tired and feel like a royal sack of crap, I will smile at you when I hand you your coffee and genuinely wish you a great day. Part of the tough thing is people don't notice as much as you want them to; the doormat effect.
So this has been and will be my challenge to myself. The challenge to totally enjoy life. As much as humanly possible.
I'm sentimental and pensive, so the change of seasons makes me think about how I could change. Cliche, yes. Effective? Maybe. Try it, you might like it.
Monday, August 13, 2012
I Am a Tree
I am a tree
The root of which is joy
Though I’m not sure
Where I am
Is where I belong
Don’t my branches grace you
As you pass by
Or is the beauty of me lost
Among the many?
I tremble in a soothing gust
I relent: I will be here if I must.
A Man I Once Fancied
Tall lanky young and handsome
Long limbs everywhere
Great big bustling brown beard
Ending a Hiatus
I'm trying to get back on the horse. I've had a bad case of writer's block for, oh, the last three or so months. I don't really know what it is, or what to call it - which for a highly introspective person - is all the more frustrating.
I almost feel like the creative part of my brain has been in a coma after attempting to hyper function in competition with the amount of attention required for academics. I've never been a "school-person". I've never thrived in school, really. It stresses me out. I feel like there are these vague standards set by higher-minds, just waiting for me to fail. Most of my college career, at least at the U, I felt like it was all a giant test to see if I might fail. If I could brave the pressure or not knowing what the hell I was doing, but that I better do it right - then I'd earn a degree.
It's a degree of stress. I have a Bachelor's in Stress Survival.
The downside is, now I have to find a job. What the hell do I find a job in? Pardon my language. So I guess that stress degree is worth it, because now I'm just waiting. Now is a much lower level of stress. It's the kind where I'm tired of working in a dead-end job where I'm under-appreciated and hence, unmotivated.
The funny thing is, I totally over-estimated myself. I was so wrong. I said, I doubt the job search will get to me, I'm pretty content where I'm at. I can make ends meet. Then everything financially went down the drain, and I picked up hours and I got sick of my job. And started only thinking in run-ons, because: the stress.
So needless to say, I've been at a loss for words. Finding anything important to say that isn't just complaining. I don't like complaining, but over the last year I've found myself doing it more than I have before. Another thing I self-predicted and was completely wrong about: I'd never become jaded. I feel it. And I don't like it. Thankfully, I think no one notices as much as I do...typical.
On my birthday, I decided I was going to be really into it. I'm the type that likes the attention somewhat, but I don't. I get really embarrassed if a large group of people is looking at me and focusing on me, but I like to be appreciated. But I decided to just be excited to be alive. Not that 22 is old, or even really an accomplishment. Maybe a pessimist would say so, but I'm an optimist. I thought, why not just spend the day being super excited to be alive? And it was lovely.
Maybe that's my goal for the year. What would life be like for a year of just being excited for everything that comes your way? Decidedly adopting an attitude of thankfulness for the time we are given, in the very moments as they arrive and pass. It sounds so beautiful, and peaceful; it just makes me happy thinking about it.
No doubt, with the way life comes at us, it will be a challenge but what a challenge to take!
So here ends a hiatus from writing, from talking about my life. I can't say it will be all daisies and roses from me from here on out, but I'll do my darnedest to keep sharing and keep showing a good perspective on whatever life it is I'm given.
I almost feel like the creative part of my brain has been in a coma after attempting to hyper function in competition with the amount of attention required for academics. I've never been a "school-person". I've never thrived in school, really. It stresses me out. I feel like there are these vague standards set by higher-minds, just waiting for me to fail. Most of my college career, at least at the U, I felt like it was all a giant test to see if I might fail. If I could brave the pressure or not knowing what the hell I was doing, but that I better do it right - then I'd earn a degree.
It's a degree of stress. I have a Bachelor's in Stress Survival.
The downside is, now I have to find a job. What the hell do I find a job in? Pardon my language. So I guess that stress degree is worth it, because now I'm just waiting. Now is a much lower level of stress. It's the kind where I'm tired of working in a dead-end job where I'm under-appreciated and hence, unmotivated.
The funny thing is, I totally over-estimated myself. I was so wrong. I said, I doubt the job search will get to me, I'm pretty content where I'm at. I can make ends meet. Then everything financially went down the drain, and I picked up hours and I got sick of my job. And started only thinking in run-ons, because: the stress.
So needless to say, I've been at a loss for words. Finding anything important to say that isn't just complaining. I don't like complaining, but over the last year I've found myself doing it more than I have before. Another thing I self-predicted and was completely wrong about: I'd never become jaded. I feel it. And I don't like it. Thankfully, I think no one notices as much as I do...typical.
On my birthday, I decided I was going to be really into it. I'm the type that likes the attention somewhat, but I don't. I get really embarrassed if a large group of people is looking at me and focusing on me, but I like to be appreciated. But I decided to just be excited to be alive. Not that 22 is old, or even really an accomplishment. Maybe a pessimist would say so, but I'm an optimist. I thought, why not just spend the day being super excited to be alive? And it was lovely.
Maybe that's my goal for the year. What would life be like for a year of just being excited for everything that comes your way? Decidedly adopting an attitude of thankfulness for the time we are given, in the very moments as they arrive and pass. It sounds so beautiful, and peaceful; it just makes me happy thinking about it.
No doubt, with the way life comes at us, it will be a challenge but what a challenge to take!
So here ends a hiatus from writing, from talking about my life. I can't say it will be all daisies and roses from me from here on out, but I'll do my darnedest to keep sharing and keep showing a good perspective on whatever life it is I'm given.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Actually Growing Up & the Dreaded "What Now?"
Adulthood is real. I
always thought it was a myth; some sort of mystical plateau that I would
never reach - though in reality, I know I will likely never stopping
thinking bodily functions are laughable, I digress already - but I'm
starting to feel it arriving. I'm starting to feel like I can say, "Kids
these days". So...
I've devised a list of things that have occurred this year to lead me to believe I am actually growing up:
- survived 8 plane ride; visiting 2 new continents
- spent 6 months away from my mom (& dog)
- shared my faith when the time felt right
- read all of the Psalms
- achieved a handful of lifelong dreams (though, young yet I may be)
- swam in the ocean
- kissed a real irishman (*blush* it's kind of a great story i'll tell you sometime if you like)
- became a legal drinker
- worked on a paper days in advance
- worked on a project days in advance
- packed for moving...days in advance
- fasted sugar, cheese, & meat for 21 days
- went to bed at a decent hour (sometimes)
- actually read (some) assigned lit books
- made a chapbook (1)
- bought at least 14 bottles of wine
- walked in college graduation
- very nervously winged a toast at a good friend's wedding
I'm sure there are more things that I should/could add to the list, but these are what came to mind. Things that felt like little stepping milestones. It's starting to occur to me that I'm kind of an adult...and it's weird. At the same time as having any sort of conscious realization of such a fact psychs me out, it makes me feel like the world is my oyster!
The first thing people say when you tell them you graduated college is "Congratulations!" (you say "Thanks!"), the second is, "Now what are you going to do?" Well, if I knew the answer to that, I'd be set, but who ever does? I'm okay with that. Because the possibilities are endless. The things on the list above, most of them are things I never, ever thought I would do - even packing to move days in advance - but I did them. So "now what?" who knows! But if I have half as much fun as I did in the last year or so of my life, in the next one I am more than happy to take it as it comes.
I've devised a list of things that have occurred this year to lead me to believe I am actually growing up:
- survived 8 plane ride; visiting 2 new continents
- spent 6 months away from my mom (& dog)
- shared my faith when the time felt right
- read all of the Psalms
- achieved a handful of lifelong dreams (though, young yet I may be)
- swam in the ocean
- kissed a real irishman (*blush* it's kind of a great story i'll tell you sometime if you like)
- became a legal drinker
- worked on a paper days in advance
- worked on a project days in advance
- packed for moving...days in advance
- fasted sugar, cheese, & meat for 21 days
- went to bed at a decent hour (sometimes)
- actually read (some) assigned lit books
- made a chapbook (1)
- bought at least 14 bottles of wine
- walked in college graduation
- very nervously winged a toast at a good friend's wedding
I'm sure there are more things that I should/could add to the list, but these are what came to mind. Things that felt like little stepping milestones. It's starting to occur to me that I'm kind of an adult...and it's weird. At the same time as having any sort of conscious realization of such a fact psychs me out, it makes me feel like the world is my oyster!
The first thing people say when you tell them you graduated college is "Congratulations!" (you say "Thanks!"), the second is, "Now what are you going to do?" Well, if I knew the answer to that, I'd be set, but who ever does? I'm okay with that. Because the possibilities are endless. The things on the list above, most of them are things I never, ever thought I would do - even packing to move days in advance - but I did them. So "now what?" who knows! But if I have half as much fun as I did in the last year or so of my life, in the next one I am more than happy to take it as it comes.
Sunday, April 01, 2012
Dubs
I know everyone says it, or thinks it; if only something had been different that day. If only I hadn't forgotten my lunch at home and gone back. If only I had stopped to get my afternoon coffee. If only I wasn't planning to see a play that night. If only the game wasn't during rush hour. If only we hadn't had that fight before I left. If only I had turned right instead of left.
That was my story. That was my shock. We drove from her house, beginning on a long journey to his soccer tournament. Blaine. We could go 35, or we could go 100. We sat. The stop sign weighed our decision silently. We aired on the side of caution, knowing its ways, and so chose 100 instead.
Favored melodies danced in our ears. Idle chatter left our lips. Laughter here and there. Me, the occasional raged-roadie ramble. Our phones rang aimlessly.
The game was canceled. The coach didn't show. "He was on the bridge." What bridge? We interrogated.
I didn't even know it was a bridge.
That was my story. That was my shock. We drove from her house, beginning on a long journey to his soccer tournament. Blaine. We could go 35, or we could go 100. We sat. The stop sign weighed our decision silently. We aired on the side of caution, knowing its ways, and so chose 100 instead.
Favored melodies danced in our ears. Idle chatter left our lips. Laughter here and there. Me, the occasional raged-roadie ramble. Our phones rang aimlessly.
The game was canceled. The coach didn't show. "He was on the bridge." What bridge? We interrogated.
I didn't even know it was a bridge.
Metra
And quiet rumble
Of slow-moving silver bullet
Ineffectual, as it were
Of slow-moving silver bullet
Ineffectual, as it were
Quiet murmurs of tired souls
[And I am missing you
Though I don’t deserve to –
Hardly know you
In truth]
Two whisper to each other
As they brush past
This one dances a little
Then shivers
Though I don’t deserve to –
Hardly know you
In truth]
Two whisper to each other
As they brush past
This one dances a little
Then shivers
Stops.
Gives a song
And returns its half-hearted effort.
We go on.
Gives a song
And returns its half-hearted effort.
We go on.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Psalm 23: In My Words
PSALM 23
1 God is my keeper, I hunger for nothing,
2 He gives me over to rest,
He leads me to places that I may find peace,
3 He renews me at the core: He shows me the good
roads to be on that lead to him.
4 I might face my darkest day or hour, but I won’t
walk in fear; cause You’re with me; Your strength and wisdom are comforting to
me.
5 You dare to dine with me even as my enemies linger: You tend to me; I have more than I need.
6 I can never escape Your goodness and charity; I
will live with You always.
~For a class, we had to re-write a well-known piece into our vernacular.
This isn't completely my vernacular, or at least not the ones I claimed
to have in my paper, but this is in my own words.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
The Change(s) in Me
I wrote this a few days ago before bed, in my whirly twirly thought pattern that carries on as I doze, so for what it's worth...
I feel like DTS set me on a whole different path; like I'm not who I was, but not all the changes are tangible or even observed yet. They're not bad, but I haven't learned how to handle them yet. I'm still figuring out how to live as I am. Trying to figure out, all over again, who I am. Who am I?
I constantly think back and feel like it wasn't real. Like I just watched that on a movie, or remembered it from an elaborate, but now patchy dream.
It's hard to pinpoint the changes, and if I can, it can be just as hard to pinpoint their origins - which is in my nature to try to do; analyze.
Talking in front of big groups is significantly less intimidating. I don't know that I need to live my whole life in Minneapolis. Vulnerability is for some reason more difficult. I don't completely hate being alone. I'm not nearly as scared of flying; twelve hours becomes nothing. I'm reevaluating where I will find my happiness. I'm deciding who's worth investing feelings in; and who may seem not worth it, but will be after a few free passes. I'm somehow much better at public speaking, though it's still rough. I don't get as scared of being in a situation with people I don't know, or of silence. I have a lot more courage and capability than I'd ever imagined.
I don't know where each of these came from specifically, and I don't think there's likely a single instance that invoked any of these. I don't know.
I feel, sometimes, like I barely even know that it happened.
Interesting enough, as I copy this from the notebook where I wrote it originally, I came across a list of the return culture shock we learned about on DTS. The * will serve to note that I feel I am experiencing this...symptom, if you will. (the rest I assure you, I have felt, but not all currently.)
*restlessness/rootlessness
*reverse homesickness
*missing people and places abroad
*boredom
*insecurity
uncertainty
confusion
*frustration
*need for excessive sleep
*change in goals or priorities
*negativity towards your own culture
*feelings of alienation or withdrawal (thankfully slightly letting up, at times)
feelings of resistance towards family and *friends
*anxiety
*grief for change in your life
Another interesting note from our talk about preparing to return home:
"You may just slide back in without acknowledgement" I definitely experienced my fair share of that, even in places I didn't expect.
I guess, - now I feel the need to wrap this up neatly - all this is to say that it was quite a journey I went on, as cliche as that sounds. And it takes a bit of recovering. Even after six months, I'm still figuring it out. Who I am, now.
I feel like DTS set me on a whole different path; like I'm not who I was, but not all the changes are tangible or even observed yet. They're not bad, but I haven't learned how to handle them yet. I'm still figuring out how to live as I am. Trying to figure out, all over again, who I am. Who am I?
I constantly think back and feel like it wasn't real. Like I just watched that on a movie, or remembered it from an elaborate, but now patchy dream.
It's hard to pinpoint the changes, and if I can, it can be just as hard to pinpoint their origins - which is in my nature to try to do; analyze.
Talking in front of big groups is significantly less intimidating. I don't know that I need to live my whole life in Minneapolis. Vulnerability is for some reason more difficult. I don't completely hate being alone. I'm not nearly as scared of flying; twelve hours becomes nothing. I'm reevaluating where I will find my happiness. I'm deciding who's worth investing feelings in; and who may seem not worth it, but will be after a few free passes. I'm somehow much better at public speaking, though it's still rough. I don't get as scared of being in a situation with people I don't know, or of silence. I have a lot more courage and capability than I'd ever imagined.
I don't know where each of these came from specifically, and I don't think there's likely a single instance that invoked any of these. I don't know.
I feel, sometimes, like I barely even know that it happened.
Interesting enough, as I copy this from the notebook where I wrote it originally, I came across a list of the return culture shock we learned about on DTS. The * will serve to note that I feel I am experiencing this...symptom, if you will. (the rest I assure you, I have felt, but not all currently.)
*restlessness/rootlessness
*reverse homesickness
*missing people and places abroad
*boredom
*insecurity
uncertainty
confusion
*frustration
*need for excessive sleep
*change in goals or priorities
*negativity towards your own culture
*feelings of alienation or withdrawal (thankfully slightly letting up, at times)
feelings of resistance towards family and *friends
*anxiety
*grief for change in your life
Another interesting note from our talk about preparing to return home:
"You may just slide back in without acknowledgement" I definitely experienced my fair share of that, even in places I didn't expect.
I guess, - now I feel the need to wrap this up neatly - all this is to say that it was quite a journey I went on, as cliche as that sounds. And it takes a bit of recovering. Even after six months, I'm still figuring it out. Who I am, now.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Finding Grace in the Haze
It's a haze. I've been in a haze, that's what this is. I've been in this strange time in my life, that I don't really understand. I feel like nothing's been going on. Like when people haven't seen you in a while, and they ask "How have you been?" or the ever-pointless "What's new?" (it's okay, I ask it too, but it doesn't mean that I don't like it), and you struggle to find anything to say. That's what life has felt like.
It's been hard to figure out what's going on. I have been going to school again, going to work sporadically, and going to church every Sunday. Nothing is spectacular, nothing is new and original. It's original in the sense of chips; it's plain and the same as it has always been, no flavor to catch you off guard or offend your senses.
I like to think I wouldn't mind being offended a little bit, in the flavored-chip sense.
The thing is, I can't help but be analytical. It's just a bit of a struggle when all you have to analyze is why are things so boring? I've been thinking, a big part of what I have been learning since returning home in August is how to have grace for the small things. How to have grace in the boring, yes, but that's the most I can think of happening, situations where I've needed to have grace I didn't know I could access.
It's definitely something beyond me, because I tend to get really passionate about how I feel about something, whether excited or offended, or whatever. And I look back on these things, and I wonder how I managed to handle it. Again, life has been rather uneventful, but alongside the uneventfulness, have been these little blips on the radar.
The blips and the lack of excitement lead me to the conclusion that I am to have grace. That's what I'm learning. It's learning when to listen; when to hold my tongue. It's learning what are battles to fight, and what just aren't. It's learning how to sit in a class, listening to a professor talk about things I completely disagree with, and not get angry, - but to laugh. It's learning when to tell a friend that the relationship isn't what it was, or to go along with it as is; the difference unspoken. It's learning to live with joy in the mundane.
It's falling on your face, and getting up and acknowledging that sometimes we trip; balance is imperfect. Life is imperfect, so live with grace.
It's been hard to figure out what's going on. I have been going to school again, going to work sporadically, and going to church every Sunday. Nothing is spectacular, nothing is new and original. It's original in the sense of chips; it's plain and the same as it has always been, no flavor to catch you off guard or offend your senses.
I like to think I wouldn't mind being offended a little bit, in the flavored-chip sense.
The thing is, I can't help but be analytical. It's just a bit of a struggle when all you have to analyze is why are things so boring? I've been thinking, a big part of what I have been learning since returning home in August is how to have grace for the small things. How to have grace in the boring, yes, but that's the most I can think of happening, situations where I've needed to have grace I didn't know I could access.
It's definitely something beyond me, because I tend to get really passionate about how I feel about something, whether excited or offended, or whatever. And I look back on these things, and I wonder how I managed to handle it. Again, life has been rather uneventful, but alongside the uneventfulness, have been these little blips on the radar.
The blips and the lack of excitement lead me to the conclusion that I am to have grace. That's what I'm learning. It's learning when to listen; when to hold my tongue. It's learning what are battles to fight, and what just aren't. It's learning how to sit in a class, listening to a professor talk about things I completely disagree with, and not get angry, - but to laugh. It's learning when to tell a friend that the relationship isn't what it was, or to go along with it as is; the difference unspoken. It's learning to live with joy in the mundane.
It's falling on your face, and getting up and acknowledging that sometimes we trip; balance is imperfect. Life is imperfect, so live with grace.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
the [2011] retrospective
I was at a lovely party on New Years, chatting with friends and suddenly the conversation shifted to their excitement for 2012. In that moment of my friends' excitement, I felt a sadness. I found myself struggling to appreciate the closing of the past year that challenged me in so many different ways. I felt nostalgia for the sand of which the last grains were trickling through the narrow path of the hour glass.
I went to Paris, Vietnam, and Cambodia; I met, - and parted with - some of the people who will forever hold a place in my heart; I learned an immense amount about myself, about the world, and about the Lord, throughout the whole year. And so it is that I can't help but feel sad that 2011 is over.
It's like the feeling of closing a book that you know you'll never read again, - and let me tell you: it was one hell of a book!
I started off the year excited for the adventure ahead, though still unsure how it would all come together, and living my daily life with the expectation of something so grand I couldn't comprehend it: I was leaving home, to be on the other side of the world for six months. I was in a place that I loved my life; I was enjoying it, but supposedly preparing to leave. Those were some of the hardest goodbyes of my life. In that moment I learned something, - something to which, I can't quite put words. Leaving was probably the hardest thing I've ever done.
I laid eyes - FEET on Paris! For three months, it was the city I called home. And though my months away made me realize Minneapolis is my true home, a place that I've grown to love like family, Paris was perfect for me. I loved every minute of it. Minus the hours of walking the city in the rain...but that's another story. I got to look at La Tour Eiffel whenever I wanted. I saw a 30,000 euro need go down to an 18,000 euro need in a matter of a week.
I even find myself with a Vietnam-shaped hole in my heart. (I could go to Antarctica and miss it, I'm so dang sentimental.) The times there were harder than Paris, but there was something even more blessed to them. In my memory, the constant threat of cockroaches doesn't even come to mind - it's the people, the ocean, the personalities of each of the cities.
I braved a new country alone when I hopped a RyanAir flight to Ireland for four days before returning to the States. I wandered and explored, drank Guinness, ate amazing food, kissed an Irishman - a story for another time, - cried on a cliff because of the beauty of the Irish Sea, and slept on the floor of an airport.
I hyperventilated walking from my plane through the MSP airport, thinking about the reality of seeing my family. Not unlike the seeming illusion of going to Paris in the first place, I wasn't sure if I'd been dreaming, or believe a cruel farce. But they were real.
And now, as February creeps around again, I'm left wondering if my trip was even real.
There was no return U.S. culture shock for me, I was happy to have it. The lifestyle of the first half of my year were competing with the one I returned to at home. It was hard not to worry about money when I returned with almost none, to waiting bills, and the goal to find an apartment ASAP. It was hard not to want to go out a lot, since I became a legal drinker five days after my return. It was hard to go back to school when achievement is my least concern, and I learned so much more in the previous six months.
I missed biking. Biking has been great.
The return was difficult, and though maybe no one noticed, at times it was painful. It was many times harder than I anticipated. Though, hard as it has been in these months, I feel like I've learned so much here as well. And again, not all things I can fully verbalize or articulate necessarily, nor am I aware of, but I know that in life the difficulty is just as important as the glory.
Returning to the life that felt on hold may not have been what I expected, but good came of it, and it taught me things. I made new friends that I wouldn't trade for anything. I knocked it out of the park this semester, as far as my U of M track record is concerned (mixed metaphors, sorry). I've learned even more what I believe and how to stand for it. I've learned who to spend my time with and how it affects me. I've learned and I'm still learning how to hold onto the growth I've achieved, and move forward with it from the place I am now.
Between the three parts of my 2011, it was a year that for me is hard to follow. I go into this year, expectant that the Lord will exponentially top my 2011 with goodness, growth, and joy.
To 2012: let's see what ya got!
I went to Paris, Vietnam, and Cambodia; I met, - and parted with - some of the people who will forever hold a place in my heart; I learned an immense amount about myself, about the world, and about the Lord, throughout the whole year. And so it is that I can't help but feel sad that 2011 is over.
It's like the feeling of closing a book that you know you'll never read again, - and let me tell you: it was one hell of a book!
I started off the year excited for the adventure ahead, though still unsure how it would all come together, and living my daily life with the expectation of something so grand I couldn't comprehend it: I was leaving home, to be on the other side of the world for six months. I was in a place that I loved my life; I was enjoying it, but supposedly preparing to leave. Those were some of the hardest goodbyes of my life. In that moment I learned something, - something to which, I can't quite put words. Leaving was probably the hardest thing I've ever done.
I laid eyes - FEET on Paris! For three months, it was the city I called home. And though my months away made me realize Minneapolis is my true home, a place that I've grown to love like family, Paris was perfect for me. I loved every minute of it. Minus the hours of walking the city in the rain...but that's another story. I got to look at La Tour Eiffel whenever I wanted. I saw a 30,000 euro need go down to an 18,000 euro need in a matter of a week.
I even find myself with a Vietnam-shaped hole in my heart. (I could go to Antarctica and miss it, I'm so dang sentimental.) The times there were harder than Paris, but there was something even more blessed to them. In my memory, the constant threat of cockroaches doesn't even come to mind - it's the people, the ocean, the personalities of each of the cities.
I braved a new country alone when I hopped a RyanAir flight to Ireland for four days before returning to the States. I wandered and explored, drank Guinness, ate amazing food, kissed an Irishman - a story for another time, - cried on a cliff because of the beauty of the Irish Sea, and slept on the floor of an airport.
I hyperventilated walking from my plane through the MSP airport, thinking about the reality of seeing my family. Not unlike the seeming illusion of going to Paris in the first place, I wasn't sure if I'd been dreaming, or believe a cruel farce. But they were real.
And now, as February creeps around again, I'm left wondering if my trip was even real.
There was no return U.S. culture shock for me, I was happy to have it. The lifestyle of the first half of my year were competing with the one I returned to at home. It was hard not to worry about money when I returned with almost none, to waiting bills, and the goal to find an apartment ASAP. It was hard not to want to go out a lot, since I became a legal drinker five days after my return. It was hard to go back to school when achievement is my least concern, and I learned so much more in the previous six months.
I missed biking. Biking has been great.
The return was difficult, and though maybe no one noticed, at times it was painful. It was many times harder than I anticipated. Though, hard as it has been in these months, I feel like I've learned so much here as well. And again, not all things I can fully verbalize or articulate necessarily, nor am I aware of, but I know that in life the difficulty is just as important as the glory.
Returning to the life that felt on hold may not have been what I expected, but good came of it, and it taught me things. I made new friends that I wouldn't trade for anything. I knocked it out of the park this semester, as far as my U of M track record is concerned (mixed metaphors, sorry). I've learned even more what I believe and how to stand for it. I've learned who to spend my time with and how it affects me. I've learned and I'm still learning how to hold onto the growth I've achieved, and move forward with it from the place I am now.
Between the three parts of my 2011, it was a year that for me is hard to follow. I go into this year, expectant that the Lord will exponentially top my 2011 with goodness, growth, and joy.
To 2012: let's see what ya got!
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