I don't get how God can make such small adult people that aren't midgets.
They follow the general rule of life: cuteness is a measure of crushability.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Missing Two Things
This semester, I'm the most disciplined thing. I work out, eat pretty well, and work hard in my studies. I'm doing better than I've yet done in my college career (so far, at least), and I'm taking only classes I want to take. But I'm beginning to despise it.
Despite my love for what I'm doing, and despite the relief of being able to study wonderful things, I've cut out two important things: social life and creative pastime. I still hang out with friends sometimes, but I don't have much of a close friend group anymore. This is largely because for one thing, my close friend group from last year is studying abroad in Paris this semester. For another, I live off-campus, and that keeps me away from the basic social things like eating at the caf for lunch and dinner.
As for the creative pastimes, I don't practice guitar like I should, nor do I spend hours studying dance moves on YouTube. I'm not marking in my calendar and counting down until Mock Rock, or the Talent Show. Even my dreams of traveling in the summer have a degree of fakeness to them, since I know that I will probably have to get a job rather than spend six weeks in Normandy learning to speak French better.
Without those creative pastimes, I crash. I need them to have balance in my life. Without those, I'm becoming like a robot, being "productive", as other students call it. I hate that word when it's not in reference to a factory. I'm not just here to churn out homework and papers and tests. I'm here to learn! I'm here to become better in all areas of life! If I'm not doing that, I'm wasting my time.
Despite my love for what I'm doing, and despite the relief of being able to study wonderful things, I've cut out two important things: social life and creative pastime. I still hang out with friends sometimes, but I don't have much of a close friend group anymore. This is largely because for one thing, my close friend group from last year is studying abroad in Paris this semester. For another, I live off-campus, and that keeps me away from the basic social things like eating at the caf for lunch and dinner.
As for the creative pastimes, I don't practice guitar like I should, nor do I spend hours studying dance moves on YouTube. I'm not marking in my calendar and counting down until Mock Rock, or the Talent Show. Even my dreams of traveling in the summer have a degree of fakeness to them, since I know that I will probably have to get a job rather than spend six weeks in Normandy learning to speak French better.
Without those creative pastimes, I crash. I need them to have balance in my life. Without those, I'm becoming like a robot, being "productive", as other students call it. I hate that word when it's not in reference to a factory. I'm not just here to churn out homework and papers and tests. I'm here to learn! I'm here to become better in all areas of life! If I'm not doing that, I'm wasting my time.
Friday, September 28, 2012
One Continuous Flow
This is kinda weird to write about, but whatever.
Before I went to Uganda, my main fear was that I wouldn't be able to make myself look at private parts, both that of men and of women. I've trained myself too well to avert my eyes.
So when I saw my first childbirth, it was the strangest thing. You don't realize that a woman is one continuous thing. In Africa, they kinda tend to leave it all hanging out. In more "civilized" countries, parts are hidden, making them more coveted. It makes the breasts into a prized territory, and guys will do things just to get a glimpse of or touch them, and it's simply because they're covered up.
Then I learned something that should have been obvious, but it honestly kinda blew my mind in its simplicity. A woman's body (like any body) is one continuous flow. Granted, I have a mother, and I've seen pornographic material before, but when a good portion of the body is always covered up, you can actually begin to separate things out, as if the vagina and breasts were a whole territory separate from the woman herself, some idolized thing.
When really, once you see a woman stripped down to wearing no more than the baby that is about to burst out of her, you see her, all of her. She's not boobs. She's not a vagina. She's not a butt. She's one whole person, one continuous flow of human, with various accents and parts, but it is all a part of a whole.
Somehow, seeing all of her made it easier to realize that all of a woman easily encompasses and swallows the various parts of the woman, and you just see her.
Before I went to Uganda, my main fear was that I wouldn't be able to make myself look at private parts, both that of men and of women. I've trained myself too well to avert my eyes.
So when I saw my first childbirth, it was the strangest thing. You don't realize that a woman is one continuous thing. In Africa, they kinda tend to leave it all hanging out. In more "civilized" countries, parts are hidden, making them more coveted. It makes the breasts into a prized territory, and guys will do things just to get a glimpse of or touch them, and it's simply because they're covered up.
Then I learned something that should have been obvious, but it honestly kinda blew my mind in its simplicity. A woman's body (like any body) is one continuous flow. Granted, I have a mother, and I've seen pornographic material before, but when a good portion of the body is always covered up, you can actually begin to separate things out, as if the vagina and breasts were a whole territory separate from the woman herself, some idolized thing.
When really, once you see a woman stripped down to wearing no more than the baby that is about to burst out of her, you see her, all of her. She's not boobs. She's not a vagina. She's not a butt. She's one whole person, one continuous flow of human, with various accents and parts, but it is all a part of a whole.
Somehow, seeing all of her made it easier to realize that all of a woman easily encompasses and swallows the various parts of the woman, and you just see her.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
There's Always Hope
I tend to try to ignore my parents' divorce and the effect it has had on my family. Oh sure, I was all involved at first, and spent a semester dealing with it in myself, but it's been two years, and I really just tend to distance myself.
I've tried to help some. I give advice, especially to my mom, but whenever my advice is "tell everyone that no drugs are allowed in the house" and "bring God into that situation," she reveals the insecurity that comes from something as shattering as a divorce, and she can't bring herself to do much of anything, for herself or anyone, except to frequently go on dates and to find comfort in the smaller things in life.
As a result, my youngest sister began her downward spiral at school, and my other sister was put under enormous pressure to be strong for my mom, while she was also engaging in sibling rivalry with the youngest sister, who was spoiled. Youngest sister started drinking at an age when I still thought drunkenness to be for those who have fallen away from the faith. She dropped cheerleading, which had been her life, and just endeavored to hang out with popular crowds, all the while ruining her grades and reputation until she was finally put in alternative school. She graduated from there, which meant that she would not be allowed to attend a four-year college until she had completed two years of community college.
I had hoped that my oldest brother would pick up the slack on holding things together, but though his advice was sometimes sound, he was also smoking weed, drinking, and generally wasting his time with video games and RC planes. He still is, for the most part. My other brother was the same, except that his love for marijuana was generally well-known.
And my mom gave both of them permission to smoke in the house because she'd "rather let them be caught here than get caught somewhere else and then go to jail."
My mom was the one who had pushed for the divorce. My dad had acquiesced. If there's one thing she stands by, it's that life is better now that they are divorced. My dad has seemed more stable, but with my youngest sister as the only real dependent in the house, (since the rest of us work or, in my case, travel or are at college) he spoiled her, and she abused privileges.
My youngest sister also got a bad boyfriend, who, my sister would later tell me, was preferable to our youngest sister. He told my mom that she was a bad mom. I got mad. Alexandra was going through her teenage rebellion phase, so she wouldn't answer to anyone.
I find it hard to think about all of this. Especially 'cause the main message that God has been working on me both for me to learn from and to preach from is about hope. You have hope in something, whether it be God or the weekend or your next paycheck. Yet with my family, I certainly don't see hope for remarriage. I don't really see hope for parents smarting up and living like the Christian family they were three years ago, before I left for college. All I could do by being a strong Christian in high school was delay the inevitable with my parents.
And now, even if I was at home, I'm not as strong of a Christian as I was before. I'm just not. I've been shaken and rattled, and am hardly ever involved in ministry. Since I'm not at home, and I'm not as strong of a Christian, and I question my morality and identity, and fall prey to the countless insecurities that come with spreading yourself thin, it's hard for me to see hope for my family. I MEAN, I'M THE ONE WHO KINDA USED TO HAVE IT ALL TOGETHER, AND NOW THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE THE CRAPPY MATURED VERSION OF THAT!
And yet, against all apparent perceivable realities that could possibly happen, Abraham believed in the hope of the promise given to him by God. He had hope in something much more impossible than the healing of the brokenness that is my family, or my chances of becoming a doctor and also discovering a scientific breakthrough. He could not have children, but God promised him that he would, so he did.
There's always hope. It's just difficult to look at it through all the junk.
I've tried to help some. I give advice, especially to my mom, but whenever my advice is "tell everyone that no drugs are allowed in the house" and "bring God into that situation," she reveals the insecurity that comes from something as shattering as a divorce, and she can't bring herself to do much of anything, for herself or anyone, except to frequently go on dates and to find comfort in the smaller things in life.
As a result, my youngest sister began her downward spiral at school, and my other sister was put under enormous pressure to be strong for my mom, while she was also engaging in sibling rivalry with the youngest sister, who was spoiled. Youngest sister started drinking at an age when I still thought drunkenness to be for those who have fallen away from the faith. She dropped cheerleading, which had been her life, and just endeavored to hang out with popular crowds, all the while ruining her grades and reputation until she was finally put in alternative school. She graduated from there, which meant that she would not be allowed to attend a four-year college until she had completed two years of community college.
I had hoped that my oldest brother would pick up the slack on holding things together, but though his advice was sometimes sound, he was also smoking weed, drinking, and generally wasting his time with video games and RC planes. He still is, for the most part. My other brother was the same, except that his love for marijuana was generally well-known.
And my mom gave both of them permission to smoke in the house because she'd "rather let them be caught here than get caught somewhere else and then go to jail."
My mom was the one who had pushed for the divorce. My dad had acquiesced. If there's one thing she stands by, it's that life is better now that they are divorced. My dad has seemed more stable, but with my youngest sister as the only real dependent in the house, (since the rest of us work or, in my case, travel or are at college) he spoiled her, and she abused privileges.
My youngest sister also got a bad boyfriend, who, my sister would later tell me, was preferable to our youngest sister. He told my mom that she was a bad mom. I got mad. Alexandra was going through her teenage rebellion phase, so she wouldn't answer to anyone.
I find it hard to think about all of this. Especially 'cause the main message that God has been working on me both for me to learn from and to preach from is about hope. You have hope in something, whether it be God or the weekend or your next paycheck. Yet with my family, I certainly don't see hope for remarriage. I don't really see hope for parents smarting up and living like the Christian family they were three years ago, before I left for college. All I could do by being a strong Christian in high school was delay the inevitable with my parents.
And now, even if I was at home, I'm not as strong of a Christian as I was before. I'm just not. I've been shaken and rattled, and am hardly ever involved in ministry. Since I'm not at home, and I'm not as strong of a Christian, and I question my morality and identity, and fall prey to the countless insecurities that come with spreading yourself thin, it's hard for me to see hope for my family. I MEAN, I'M THE ONE WHO KINDA USED TO HAVE IT ALL TOGETHER, AND NOW THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE THE CRAPPY MATURED VERSION OF THAT!
And yet, against all apparent perceivable realities that could possibly happen, Abraham believed in the hope of the promise given to him by God. He had hope in something much more impossible than the healing of the brokenness that is my family, or my chances of becoming a doctor and also discovering a scientific breakthrough. He could not have children, but God promised him that he would, so he did.
There's always hope. It's just difficult to look at it through all the junk.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Trust
I'm starting to realize that I might not be the most trusting of people. I like people 'cause I have pretty low expectations for everyone. I don't really expect anyone else to follow through with their responsibilities, and I tend to think that everyone has to find their own self-motivation.
People have always said that you can't trust people; you can only trust God. But I'm realizing that just like I need to put hope in things in order to give them worth, I need to put trust in people too. Even though that means that I'll probably get hurt and whatever, it's something that needs to happen, 'cause without trust, relationships are pretty worthless. And since we need relationships, we need to trust people, even if they aren't as reliable as God.
People have always said that you can't trust people; you can only trust God. But I'm realizing that just like I need to put hope in things in order to give them worth, I need to put trust in people too. Even though that means that I'll probably get hurt and whatever, it's something that needs to happen, 'cause without trust, relationships are pretty worthless. And since we need relationships, we need to trust people, even if they aren't as reliable as God.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Reading And Writing
The good thing about becoming busy is that I begin to miss the things I didn't do when I wasn't busy.
I really miss writing poetry. And because my poetry has stunk for the last long while, I realize that I also miss reading poetry. Not for classes, not some assignment, but just reading poetry for the simple pleasure of dipping the tip of my tongue into the thoughts and emotions of a fellow soul (see how poetic that sounded?).
There were times during this summer when I had sat down specifically for the purpose of writing poetry, but what little I managed to cough up belonged with the furballs in the gutter. Since time is one thing I don't have allotted to give to that kind of reading and writing, I am left wishing for those times in Belfast, when I took literature and art classes and reveled in the culture therein.
The other problem is that I work out now. So whenever I feel down (the time when inspiration flows), I work out to feel better rather than just writing. It's healthier for my body, but my mind is kinda getting the crappy end of the deal.
The retirement plan I have that probably won't happen ('cause God will probably wring me out till I'm dry) is to stop somewhere, preferably in Europe, and sit in coffee shops and write poetry while sitting and feeling a place.
Oh to dream.
I really miss writing poetry. And because my poetry has stunk for the last long while, I realize that I also miss reading poetry. Not for classes, not some assignment, but just reading poetry for the simple pleasure of dipping the tip of my tongue into the thoughts and emotions of a fellow soul (see how poetic that sounded?).
There were times during this summer when I had sat down specifically for the purpose of writing poetry, but what little I managed to cough up belonged with the furballs in the gutter. Since time is one thing I don't have allotted to give to that kind of reading and writing, I am left wishing for those times in Belfast, when I took literature and art classes and reveled in the culture therein.
The other problem is that I work out now. So whenever I feel down (the time when inspiration flows), I work out to feel better rather than just writing. It's healthier for my body, but my mind is kinda getting the crappy end of the deal.
The retirement plan I have that probably won't happen ('cause God will probably wring me out till I'm dry) is to stop somewhere, preferably in Europe, and sit in coffee shops and write poetry while sitting and feeling a place.
Oh to dream.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Conversations
"Why should I not date him?"-a girl to me.
"WHY SHOULD YOU??? WHY DO YOU JUST NEED TO DATE RIGHT NOW??? ENJOY BEING SINGLE WHILE YOU CAN!!!!"-my thoughts, voiced in a more neutral, less incredulous manner.
"WHY SHOULD YOU??? WHY DO YOU JUST NEED TO DATE RIGHT NOW??? ENJOY BEING SINGLE WHILE YOU CAN!!!!"-my thoughts, voiced in a more neutral, less incredulous manner.
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