Isn't it always when you least expect it? The saying goes something like that, anyways. See, I've been pondering buying a new[er] car. It was just this week I sort of came to terms with the fact that my car works just fine, and now it just not the time; I don't feel particularly like taking on another monthly payment of any sort, as I have enough already.
Then yesterday happened. It started out as a faint, unfamiliar chirping noise that subtly made itself known behind the sounds of my stereo. It grew the next time I drove, to a high-pitched whirring noise, not unlike a small plane's engines starting up - I was worried something might shoot out of the front end. Then, I stupidly and only slightly reluctantly went to the gym. When I got back in the car, I said to myself "here goes nothing!" But there went something: clunk, cu-clunk, clunk, clunk. So I just turned it off.
After an hour of waiting for both a tow-truck and my roommate to bring my purse with my AAA card, the tow truck driver turned the car on - with the same clunking present - and drove it onto the angled-bed of his truck, drove the approximate 5 blocks to the repair shop and didn't even look at my membership card or I.D. Essentially all for naught.
On the upside, I actually walked myself somewhere today. I am the opposite of a home-body. I like my home to be a comfortable place, but I don't really like to be there, at least not alone. So to better get work done, I go somewhere. It actually derails the process briefly, but for some strange reason when I do get on track I am much more concentrated.
I had to call eighty-seven year old my grandpa who happened to be up in the city, to give me a lift back to Bloomington to borrow my mom's SUV. I kind of like driving the SUV, minus all her bumperstickers that I swear have nearly gotten me rage-run off the road a few times. I thought, waiting on the couch for my grandpa, I wish you could ghost-ride cars. As if that would completely solve all my problems in an instant.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Nonprofit Writing
I just came from my first official, in-person interview as a writer for Thirty-Two magazine. I am shaking and teary, as I really think about it: I get to do this! Something Veronica Descotte, founder of Cakes on Wheels - the woman I interviewed said resonated heavily with me: "I am just so lucky to do this."
Even if this is the only article I get to write about nonprofits, or for Thirty-Two, I am just so excited and honored that I get to do this. If you haven't heard of Thirty-Two, and you're from the Twin Cities go to the list of shops that carry the magazine, and try to see if your can get your hands on a copy. It's worth every penny. It's so refreshing to know that someone still believes in print, and not just any print but damn good print! The magazine is a beautiful thing to behold, and it's goal (in my own words) is to exemplify the culture of the Twin Cities Metro and on a larger scale as well, the Midwest and its relevance.
We tend to get a bad rap in Minneapolis-St. Paul that we're not relevant, or we're too Midwestern - whatever that means. I think Thirty-Two tries to fight that stereotype, but not falsely. And I think it's just a great thing to be a part of, even if it's potentially only for one go.
It's inspiring to meet someone who had an idea and went with it, creating this great project that reaches out so simply but effectively. Then to get to write about it in a magazine that's just getting off the ground but doing so, so beautifully...I can't believe it! I walked away from Veronica's house, toward my car after she said goodbye and gave me a hug, and I was just excited.
I'm the type of person who could have an idea and be so excited, but nothing happens. And I've known for at least two years now that writing about nonprofits is what I want to do. And I won't shake a stick at an opportunity such as this.
If I believed in luck...I'm just so lucky.
Even if this is the only article I get to write about nonprofits, or for Thirty-Two, I am just so excited and honored that I get to do this. If you haven't heard of Thirty-Two, and you're from the Twin Cities go to the list of shops that carry the magazine, and try to see if your can get your hands on a copy. It's worth every penny. It's so refreshing to know that someone still believes in print, and not just any print but damn good print! The magazine is a beautiful thing to behold, and it's goal (in my own words) is to exemplify the culture of the Twin Cities Metro and on a larger scale as well, the Midwest and its relevance.
We tend to get a bad rap in Minneapolis-St. Paul that we're not relevant, or we're too Midwestern - whatever that means. I think Thirty-Two tries to fight that stereotype, but not falsely. And I think it's just a great thing to be a part of, even if it's potentially only for one go.
It's inspiring to meet someone who had an idea and went with it, creating this great project that reaches out so simply but effectively. Then to get to write about it in a magazine that's just getting off the ground but doing so, so beautifully...I can't believe it! I walked away from Veronica's house, toward my car after she said goodbye and gave me a hug, and I was just excited.
I'm the type of person who could have an idea and be so excited, but nothing happens. And I've known for at least two years now that writing about nonprofits is what I want to do. And I won't shake a stick at an opportunity such as this.
If I believed in luck...I'm just so lucky.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
How He Loves
Lately, God has been teaching me a really heavy lesson. This lesson is one that I thought I'd already understood and grasped, not that I needed to be taught yet. I am starting to see that I was wrong, and I had only a part of the picture. He's been teaching me about His love.
Being a self-proclaimed highly-introspective person, I've always thought of myself as one who loves big. And until recent years of being burned [what I considered] one too many times, I sort of loved with abandon. My heart would just crash into the someone, or so I thought.
I went through a couple of really important friendships, - important both in retrospect knowing what I do now, and important because they were just that - and have only recently come to the realization that I have been shying from seeking the deeper connections that I once so loved. In many situations I've found myself avoiding interactions I would normally throw myself into without a thought for the sake of the possibility, now scared of the chance that I'll invest and get myself hurt.
Get myself hurt.
And this is something I've been coming to understand. See, God has been teaching me about how He loves. The way I love is not a full picture of His own, and I was prideful enough to think that. He has put people in my life that haven't been easy. He's put them there, drawn our paths together, and challenged me. People who like different things than I do. People who communicate differently than I do. People who I wouldn't normally agree with. People who don't see what I see in their self. People who don't believe truth, - indubitable truth about their worth and place.
And weave together. Then there's this feeling. This sense of just how great it is that this individual is unique; that all of the characteristics and talents that go together in them, are not found in anyone else. Ever. And I just feel like they are this gem. I'm overwhelmed. And then God tells me, This is my heart, not your own; this is how I love. And I have this realization: my love is broken, your love is broken; His love sees through all the crap that distracts us, and the stuff that's not crap, but we see it that way.
Then comes the realization of how it must feel. When I'm so overwhelmed all I can do is cry, or try not to - depending on where I am, or how I feel in that moment, or who's watching and might judge me for feeling things too real. How it must feel to be rejected. How it must feel to have someone not care, when you tell them you love them. How it must feel to watch someone betray their talents for get-rich-quick or ten-second happiness. Then my heart breaks all over again.
This is how He loves. How constantly must His heart be broken? How often must He be beaming and joyful before slashed by the sting of rejection? This is how He loves. We can never fully understand, but we get pieces and portions.
I just try to think of the greatest love I have and the greatest love I receive; and this is how He loves.
Being a self-proclaimed highly-introspective person, I've always thought of myself as one who loves big. And until recent years of being burned [what I considered] one too many times, I sort of loved with abandon. My heart would just crash into the someone, or so I thought.
I went through a couple of really important friendships, - important both in retrospect knowing what I do now, and important because they were just that - and have only recently come to the realization that I have been shying from seeking the deeper connections that I once so loved. In many situations I've found myself avoiding interactions I would normally throw myself into without a thought for the sake of the possibility, now scared of the chance that I'll invest and get myself hurt.
Get myself hurt.
And this is something I've been coming to understand. See, God has been teaching me about how He loves. The way I love is not a full picture of His own, and I was prideful enough to think that. He has put people in my life that haven't been easy. He's put them there, drawn our paths together, and challenged me. People who like different things than I do. People who communicate differently than I do. People who I wouldn't normally agree with. People who don't see what I see in their self. People who don't believe truth, - indubitable truth about their worth and place.
And weave together. Then there's this feeling. This sense of just how great it is that this individual is unique; that all of the characteristics and talents that go together in them, are not found in anyone else. Ever. And I just feel like they are this gem. I'm overwhelmed. And then God tells me, This is my heart, not your own; this is how I love. And I have this realization: my love is broken, your love is broken; His love sees through all the crap that distracts us, and the stuff that's not crap, but we see it that way.
Then comes the realization of how it must feel. When I'm so overwhelmed all I can do is cry, or try not to - depending on where I am, or how I feel in that moment, or who's watching and might judge me for feeling things too real. How it must feel to be rejected. How it must feel to have someone not care, when you tell them you love them. How it must feel to watch someone betray their talents for get-rich-quick or ten-second happiness. Then my heart breaks all over again.
This is how He loves. How constantly must His heart be broken? How often must He be beaming and joyful before slashed by the sting of rejection? This is how He loves. We can never fully understand, but we get pieces and portions.
I just try to think of the greatest love I have and the greatest love I receive; and this is how He loves.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
The Weight of My Love
The weight of love
Sits heavy in me
And it wells up,
climbing from the pit in my gut
to the top of me
to crawl forth from my eyes
and ever so gently dance
down the hills of my face.
And this is the weight of my love for you;
this is the best justice
that I can do
to explain the weight of this love,
a smile on my face.
Sits heavy in me
And it wells up,
climbing from the pit in my gut
to the top of me
to crawl forth from my eyes
and ever so gently dance
down the hills of my face.
And this is the weight of my love for you;
this is the best justice
that I can do
to explain the weight of this love,
a smile on my face.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
No One, As You Are
No one has ever truly known me,
as You Are who defines knowing me.
No one has ever really loved me,
as You Are who defines love; is love.
No one has ever seen me,
as You Are who sees; transcends.
No one has ever heard me,
as You Are who hears; even unspoken words.
No one, as You Are.
as You Are who defines knowing me.
No one has ever really loved me,
as You Are who defines love; is love.
No one has ever seen me,
as You Are who sees; transcends.
No one has ever heard me,
as You Are who hears; even unspoken words.
No one, as You Are.
A Cold Approach
Autumnal nights
Where my thoughts dance
Just beneath my skin
Ghosts rustle at the chance for freedom
The moon exposes them like covert romance
But they won't last
Dried remnants of the not-too distant past
I feel a creeping on me
A villain follows my path
Awaits to defeat my melancholy comrades
Awaits to devour me
Snuff me out
Bury me...
So I relish in such a moment
Stark air swallows me,
Sends a message to my bones:
"He is coming, you are never ready."
(originally written 10/5/12)
Where my thoughts dance
Just beneath my skin
Ghosts rustle at the chance for freedom
The moon exposes them like covert romance
But they won't last
Dried remnants of the not-too distant past
I feel a creeping on me
A villain follows my path
Awaits to defeat my melancholy comrades
Awaits to devour me
Snuff me out
Bury me...
So I relish in such a moment
Stark air swallows me,
Sends a message to my bones:
"He is coming, you are never ready."
(originally written 10/5/12)
Reasons to Love PMS
I don't PMS often (it's not really a verb, but we use it as a verb), but when I do, I make it count. I've always been one of those girls that thinks hormones are no excuse for erratic behavior, so I still try to keep the wrath of mine to myself, but it manages to come out in the silliest of ways.
(I'm also the type of girl that thinks talking about periods and anything related to them is pretty unnecessary, but...here I am...)
For starters, I'll blame PMS for my having impulsively bought heels on Friday while in Duluth for a women's conference. Women's conference. Bad timing. Everything that was sad or moving in its nature, made me gasp because I was so suddenly overcome with emotions from it.
The kicker, and what I would say is the epitome of my version of PMS, was today. I was having a really tough time getting through work today; just long, difficult projects. So I decided to pursue a vending machine ally, and for some reason it was M&M's. I don't usually care about M&M's. If they're there, I might eat some, I might not. Today, I had to have M&M's. I get to the vending machine, and there's only peanut. Which I weirdly loathe, - but again, I'll eat them, if I have to. So I relent, buy the peanut ones.
On my drive home, I'm at the traffic light, driving by target thinking, I really want regular M&M's...those peanut ones just didn't cut it! And I feel myself getting ready, to get ready to cry. I realize I need to drop off my netflix, the post office is on the way to target; a great excuse. So I go in, get my big bag, thinking I can share with my small group.
As I'm in the car, at a light waiting to turn out of the parking lot, I grab the bag of candy - because naturally I need to eat some in the three minute drive home. On the back is a deceptive ad for their Dark Chocolate version. Now, I am not a dark chocolate fan, and I see this, and I let out an albeit, over-dramatic yell of frustration that at the time felt justified...NOT dark chocolate! I turned them over with a sigh of relief.
PMS is a monster virus that lives in women and rampages the world. (Sorry if you are a man and read this and you didn't want to, but it's probably time you knew.)
(I'm also the type of girl that thinks talking about periods and anything related to them is pretty unnecessary, but...here I am...)
For starters, I'll blame PMS for my having impulsively bought heels on Friday while in Duluth for a women's conference. Women's conference. Bad timing. Everything that was sad or moving in its nature, made me gasp because I was so suddenly overcome with emotions from it.
The kicker, and what I would say is the epitome of my version of PMS, was today. I was having a really tough time getting through work today; just long, difficult projects. So I decided to pursue a vending machine ally, and for some reason it was M&M's. I don't usually care about M&M's. If they're there, I might eat some, I might not. Today, I had to have M&M's. I get to the vending machine, and there's only peanut. Which I weirdly loathe, - but again, I'll eat them, if I have to. So I relent, buy the peanut ones.
On my drive home, I'm at the traffic light, driving by target thinking, I really want regular M&M's...those peanut ones just didn't cut it! And I feel myself getting ready, to get ready to cry. I realize I need to drop off my netflix, the post office is on the way to target; a great excuse. So I go in, get my big bag, thinking I can share with my small group.
As I'm in the car, at a light waiting to turn out of the parking lot, I grab the bag of candy - because naturally I need to eat some in the three minute drive home. On the back is a deceptive ad for their Dark Chocolate version. Now, I am not a dark chocolate fan, and I see this, and I let out an albeit, over-dramatic yell of frustration that at the time felt justified...NOT dark chocolate! I turned them over with a sigh of relief.
PMS is a monster virus that lives in women and rampages the world. (Sorry if you are a man and read this and you didn't want to, but it's probably time you knew.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)