Mixed Messages Much?

As I was walking through the mall last night, I noticed a group of teenagers standing in front of one of those rotating billboard things- you know, where the pictures are on a reel or something and roll up to the next one? So, the first image I see is a picture of a lovely little girl, book for a brain, with the well-known phrase "A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste". Cool.

What is the next image? This movie ad.

Right away, it just put a sad, sick feeling in my stomach. The question that I wanted to shout to no one in particular was, "Which is it? Which image do you want?" It can't be both.

Media/Hollywood/the Machine/The Man/.... wants to encourage children to learn, to be pure, to be brave and believe they can do great things-especially girls- but then they basically get the message that once they're 15 or so, they are objects. They are possessions of men, things to look at, variables to be controlled.

I pray for the parents out there. I pray that they will find the right words and attitudes to impress upon their children- especially boys- that treating people like objects is not okay. That it dehumanizes us all and denies what God has made us to be. And here I'm not only speaking to the objectification of girls, but also to the whole concept of these gruesome new batch of movies. Why exactly is torture so hip right now? Don't give me some psychological schtick about the war and how the art is simply reflecting reality. Teenagers aren't watching the news; aren't responding to it like that.

These are symptoms. The movies, the enjoyment of grisly shit, the actual torture going on in the world. Symptoms. We are dehumanizing one another on a daily basis and it leaks out in these ugly and horrific ways.

I'd rather encourage the little girl with books on the brain, but I guess that's just me.
(Yes. abrupt ending. but i was in danger of going on a rant that I'm not prepared to finish right now.)
Read this book for the seeds of some of these thoughts.

Still to come: thoughts after finishing Six Feet Under, and my time with my girls.

Open mic night in my living room

close to my right ear
red bump almost makes my face
one gigantic zit


i love the puff's plus
my red nose needs the moisture
i'm tired of sickness

A complaint-free quarter?

I have had this bracelet for about five months.
The longest I have gone is twelve days, but since then, it's been two or three.
I removed it for a while because I was tired of it being on my body, but I've put it back on again. It doesn't seem to be making a big dent.

I'm definitely more aware now and certainly complain less about big things or things in my important relationships, but I'm not finding myself very aware of the bracelet/mission with everyday griping-type issues. I've been a smidge crabby in my head for the past few days, and it bugs me a bit.

What shall I do? First, I shall wait out my hormones- they're in high tide right now. Second, I shall pray for help, because this surely isn't an impossible task with the superduo of me & the Holy Spirit! WonderTwin powers, activate! Take the form of- Gratitude!!

Granny Panties

A list of things that are disheartening for a girl:

Feeling the need to buy underwear that is quite large.
Wearing said underwear in front of your husband before realizing that it's too big.
Guilt over the money spent on the underwear causing you to not throw it away.
Revulsion every time the underwear is seen.
Grabbing the underwear in desperation and finding that it no longer is all that large.
Not being entirely sure whether the underwear has shrunk or you have grown.

Peee-ew!

I had heard numerous references to the "Sonoma Aroma" through the past year and a half, but I never really figured it out or truly experienced it until this week. The aroma is twofold:

1) Cows. Manure. Horses. Yumm-o. I live in the city, so I haven't really experienced this too much in my daily travels. I mean, I deal with dog and nursing home smell, but not the overpowering, plug your nose while driving and speed up smell that is a mere two minutes down the road from my home. My dog's vet is in the midst of this smell, and I tell you that it was not nice. (The city is small. The fields are near.)

2) Body Odor. I just never made the connection before, even though I knew that there were more hippies and homeless people here than I've ever been exposed to, and I also knew that I avoided standing too near some people at church. But it was really brought home to me Thursday when I was sitting in a coffee shop with a friend, and more than coffee, I smelled the low-level but everywhere presence of b.o.

Ah, California. I love it, so I deal with the stink! :)

Oh, I have arrived

Folks may or may not remember an earlier post where I mentioned never running into people I grew up with now that I've moved across the country. But I've finally, after only a year and a half, crossed the threshold into the land of Knowing People and Being From Here. (I'm sure there's a catchier name for it, but it's really late and I should be in bed. I just want to post some stuff!)

My point is that I quite regularly see people I know when I'm out and about now. And it really only has been in the last couple months. It's quite grand. Today at the awkward fair, I saw...six people I knew. Yes, they were all from ADI, but they were in separate groups! And I knew them!

p.s. Sending overly generous brainwaves to the pres. of ADI because they need more students for the 6-week service dog training seminar this summer, and they offered me a deal that I still couldn't take while saving for other things. So! My brainwaves and subliminal chants are for B to have a wild hair and tell me I can go for free!! It could happen! ~~~Free~~~Free!! Let her go for free~~~~

Busy busy

I know that I'm not as busy as you. Or you. But I am quite the busy girl lately, and it's mostly good. Every once in a while I get a little whiny about having leave the house for a whopping 2 hours to do something I committed to doing, but I can pretty much snap out of that one pretty quickly.

I have also had another epiphany about my role as stay-at-home-sometimes wife. Yes, I claimed to be over feeling guilty about things already once, but now I really don't feel guilty. I realized that while I don't have a spotless house- I always have to do a headless-chicken cleaning dash before anyone comes over- pretty much everything that needs to be done here is done by me. And that's totally fine with me. Mr. Man brings home the bacon, and I may or may not fry it, and I'll probably wait a couple days to clean the pan, but eventually I'll do it and a bunch of other stuff that doesn't even enter his radar.

What was interesting about this train of thought is that it not only helped me to not feel guilty about not having a perfect house, but it also made me feel better about the things that I do and has helped me let go of wanting him to do pretty much anything. If he leaves his socks on the floor today, tomorrow, and the next day, it's no big whoop. I can pick up my husband's stinkin' socks. It takes about a second, and I love him, so why fight about it?

Back to busy bee: I went to 6 (SIX) stores the other day- four of those were for necessities and in pursuit of deals. Oy. I felt like M's boyfriend, L. "But with the coupon I have and the sale they're having, it's FREE!" Those six stores were in multiple trips to and from the house, and around BINGO, an online Bible study chat, and taking the dog to the vet to get her nails cut. And skipping an in-person Bible study at church that bores me a little bit. (See!! I'm terrible, Muriel.)

I suppose that if you were to get all analytical on me, you wouldn't have to go that deep to find that I'm doing some sort of justification ritual whereby I whine about how busy I am so that I will feel more valuable. Sodding Protestant work ethic. But I really don't mind the New Active Lifestyle (can I wear a track suit?) that I have- it feels good after being in an inward-focused phase for so long. I suppose that all of the learning and changing I was doing had to go somewhere outside of the house eventually!

AWKward!

So, I'm trying to put myself out there- helping with things at church, walking the talk, blah blah blah, getting used to busy life, but tonight wasn't great.

A group from my church has a booth at the weekly fair here in town, and they hand out water to people and pray with people. Fair enough. It seems to do a lot of good, and I knew they'd need help, so I signed up for a lot of weeks.

BUT (obviously, you knew this was coming) I'm really not cut out for it. I just really felt strange, like a cult member, trying to lure folks over with the water and then spring the prayer option on them in the approved wording to reach the New Age-y masses of Sonoma County.

It is not anything wrong in what we're doing, it's just me. We're not a cult, and we just want to give people the water and I guess that last summer many people wanted prayer and always felt good about it. I love talking to people about God and Jesus, it's just that the context basically makes it street witnessing, which you may know is NOT my bag. (Oh, I'll be more churchy and say, um, it's not a gift of mine. Calling. Strength. WHATEVER.)

Then, of course, I have the moment of doubt and guilt, "Oh, am I ashamed of my Lord before men!! (Wailing and gnashing of teeth goes on here. Internally.) I know that I comfortably worked the booth for Team in Training last summer, and I'll probably help with the Assistance Dog booth, so why not good ol' JC, who I think is more important than anything? Some of it is the manner and vocabulary that is the preferred method of delivery. A well-thought out delivery, and it works great for others, but it just felt so false for me. I prefer to have long conversations about life and have relationships with people wherein everything about me (oh, at least 50% of me) is a good witness to hope, instead of just jumping someone with, "Do you know Jesus Christ as your personal savior?" (Oh, should I have capitalized "savior"? Am I going to hell for that?)

I also wasn't completely comfy with the TNT booth when they wanted us to be assertive and try to get people's attention. "Um, I'll sit behind the table and smile to people, 'kay? Great."
And the ADI booth will have puppies and service dogs- it pretty much sells itself.

So, will I never tell a stranger the Good News? Ah. I don't know. Maybe it's something I'll grow into. I'll get past some point and learn how to do it with confidence. Maybe I won't- I'll keep watering seeds that others planted. I just don't want to be shuttering my mind and heart from things just because they're out of my comfort zone. Until then, I'll be the one wandering around, praying quietly for everyone I see.

It has been a while

I've had lots of things going on- big and small- and thoughts will come to me now and then and I think, "Oh, I need to blog that!" Alas, I quickly forget them. I'm usually quite good at being a list maker- I guess that I need to start jotting down my blog ideas.
Anyway, enough babbling. I just wanted to post this:

Relevant

Psalm 32
1 Blessed is he
whose transgressions are forgiven,
whose sins are covered.

2 Blessed is the man
whose sin the LORD does not count against him
and in whose spirit is no deceit.

3 When I kept silent,
my bones wasted away
through my groaning all day long.

4 For day and night
your hand was heavy upon me;
my strength was sapped
as in the heat of summer.
Selah

5 Then I acknowledged my sin to you
and did not cover up my iniquity.
I said, "I will confess
my transgressions to the LORD "—
and you forgave
the guilt of my sin.
Selah

6 Therefore let everyone who is godly pray to you
while you may be found;
surely when the mighty waters rise,
they will not reach him.

7 You are my hiding place;
you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with songs of deliverance.
Selah

8 I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will counsel you and watch over you.

9 Do not be like the horse or the mule,
which have no understanding
but must be controlled by bit and bridle
or they will not come to you.

10 Many are the woes of the wicked,
but the LORD's unfailing love
surrounds the man who trusts in him.

11 Rejoice in the LORD and be glad, you righteous;
sing, all you who are upright in heart!

Don't I know you from somewhere?

As I sat in the waiting area of the tire shop the other day, a guy sat down and I looked at him for a second to see if I knew him. My thought was along the lines of, "Do I know you from when we were young or something?" The thing is- that's not going to happen anymore. I hardly know anyone in California, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

It's not an unmoored feeling or anything. I just find it odd. It is highly improbable that I'm going to run into someone from elementary school, heck, even college is unlikely! It just so happens that someone from college lives 3 hours away, but I still doubt that we are going to accidentally run into each other. I am separated from my past- my life here is just over a year old.

We are finally getting to the place where it's likely we'll run into someone we know- someone from church, work, volunteering, etc, but there won't be any meetings filled with faces scrunched up in thought, followed by the revelatory, "Ah! That's it! You're so and so!"

In California, I know who I know, for the most part. The plus side of this is: if I do happen to run into someone from the past, it will be a REALLY big deal. Even if it's just the guy who used to come into the store where I worked. It'll be worth it.

Sight-seeing

My mom was just in town for a week and I really feel that there ought to be a post in there somewhere, but I just can't come up with anything. Here goes:
It was really cool to have her here and show here all of my favorite views, people, and places, but it was also tiring. You may know that I don't like having lots of plans, so having something to do every day for over a week was trying at times. Nothing major, but I did have a bout of Killer Fatigue (tm Miss Alli) about 5 days in, but that was also partly my own fault for driving a friend to the airport at the bcod.
My mom and I had a lot of fun- lots of eating out, a blur of people and dogs to introduce to her, lots of pictures taken out of the window of my moving car. "Do you want me to stop?" "No, no. I got it!" (Apparently she did always get it. She says that all of her pictures came out. Sweet!)
Her last night here, we went into the city and spent the night at Fisherman's Wharf. She got to eat crab, we bought toursity t-shirts, saw sea lions, and even got to take a cable car over to Union Square. It was cool to be out and about at night; walking around and seeing new things.
At home, my mom hardly leaves the house after dark, so I was glad that I was able to put her in new situations and that she loved them all. It's always great to hear that the people and places you love are just as great in someone else's eyes as they are in yours.

Classic Rock Gene

I've been wondering if there is something genetic about liking classic rock. Maybe a gene that gets turned on as you age, as your cells decay, the desire for smooth male harmonies and screechy guitars increases.

I have always categorically detested classic rock- Led Zeppelin was the only exception because they are their own category- but my resistance seems to be wearing thin and this annoys me. Yesterday, while in the car, the opening notes of "Wheel in the Sky" came on and I actually thought, "Hmm. Good I'll leave it." I left it, and I sang. And I was frightened.

Admittedly, I was desperate- San Francisco really doesn't have any good radio stations for a big city, but it's not the only time that I haven't immediately kept scanning when faced with something my parents would have loved for most of their young adulthoods.

There is a series of lines, though, that will alert me to my continued decline, should I require an intervention. First stage is ZZ Top. That stage is pretty far along, but my husband is aware and will know to be worried the day I let ZZ Top stay on the radio. Next comes Bob Seger, and the last stage- the one where you know that I will never be coming back- that stage is AC/DC. Let's pray that it doesn't get that far.

Late to the party

Now, it's not entirely my fault, because I had never actually heard her before, but I justnow discovered Nina Simone and now I get it! Wow. It's just something about her voice that immediately grabs me. Again- wow. I know- I've wasted all these years not listening to her. I'm a stupid human being that just became the tiniest little bit more Real Girl.

Celebrities and their mouths

Yes, yes, I ripped on Brangelina in an earlier post for what I feel is a self-important and slightly confused statement about marriage, but I'm here to defend the Celebrity Opinion. Who can you thank? The Dixie Chicks.
Our celebrity culture is brand-new, if you look at the big picture. A blip in world history. Not only is the degree of global communication we have brand-spanking new, but the concept of someone who is not a political or religious leader being famous is relatively novel, not to mention the in-depth exposure that celebrities get that is only about 40 years old. So I'm saying that we're still finding our way through this area.
I also think that people have the right to say pretty much whatever they want to say. I also have the right to ignore them. This is the beauty of the USA. And furthermore, I think that it is only fitting that someone with a great deal of public exposure and money stands up for what they believe in, even if I think they're loons for that belief.
Blech. This could be said better, but I'm tired, I'm multi-tasking, and this is my 4th post of the day. Accept it and get my point! You don't have to agree, but get it!

I'm not as think as you write I am. Oh, never mind, That doesn't work.

You, my friends, constantly tell me that I'm a good writer and that I should write more. You think that I have a novel sitting somewhere in the depths of my spleen, but I say, "Nay!"
You'll notice that, while prolific today, I have only posted 3 times this year. THREE! I just don't have that writer's POV in life. I read the blogs of others, even some people that I might say that I don't particularly like, and they either have great things to say or they are good at saying little things. Life strikes them from a certain angle and they are inspired to put fingertips to keyboard.
Perhaps I need to just practice more: sit at the computer and just frikkin' write something. But I don't want this to turn into my online diary where I have scads of boring posts surrounding the occasional gem. I'm not a funny writer, so I wait for depth to creep into my thoughts unawares, without also turning this into a Bible study or lecture.
What's a poseur in the blogosphere to do?

My profile lies

It lies, I tell you!! But I don't feel like changing it right now. What is false? That I have no friends in California. Now, don't get me wrong, I still don't have a BFF like M or R; heck, I still don't do anything social aside from walking with anyone besides Seth, but we're getting there.
This may come as a shock to you, as it did to me, but actually being social and putting myself in the line of other people has resulted in conversations and possible friendships. I know!! News to me, too. So, my advice to you is this: Go to church! And when you're there, talk to people! Sounds simple, but it sometimes isn't.

Ta-da! Grown-up Life!

I've realized within the past month or two that This is It. I'm in my life, I'm on my path- here we go! I guess that although I wouldn't have admitted it, I was looking around the corner and waiting for my life to show up. Waiting on something big, for school, for that Great Job, or for Significance to descend from on high.
What does this mean in a practical sense? One one hand it is a psychological/spritual revelation that gives me peace and joy. I don't have to feel useless or like I'm wasting time because I am living a life of service and learning, getting in on opportunities for both that God places in my path. On the other hand it is a spiritual/scheduling revolution because I need to put myself out there more, letting go of the vast quantity of Me Time I've learned to cherish and get used to being gone more, putting more hours in at my volunteer jobs, taking more classes at church, and realizing that all of this is good (and will only increase in the future). I am dying to myself a little more every day, and even when I hate it, I love it.
The other possibly big chunk of the picture is that I'm applying to seminary. I have finally gotten a car, and it didn't take long for me to realize that the door for school was now open. So I asked the proper people to write letters of recommendation, I visited the school, hammered out other various paperwork tasks, and all I really have left is to write my essays (religious autobiography and Why Fuller?), which I am currently avoiding by writing to you fine folks.
Obviously, I'll let you know how it all turns out. But please, PLEASE realize that I am not putting all my eggs in this basket. I don't expect to be rejected, and if I get in, I'm sure that the money will happen, but I also know that I don't have to go to seminary right now or at all in order to do what God has for me. That's why I keep plugging myself into various things at church and I keep learning. Something can grow from where you would never think.

My pedestrian life

No, I'm not talking about my walking- there is a lot of it, though. I'm talking about things that are stereotypical, run-of-the-mill, or just what everyone else does or expects. I'm talking about the fact that my husband is like my father.

For the most part, this isn't a bad thing. I love my dad; I love my husband. My dad is affectionate, hard-working, sacrificial, excellent at whatever he does, God-fearing, unconventionally smart, handsome, generally happy and easy to be around, and he will do anything for the people he loves- he'll even do quite a bit for people he only likes. My husband has all of these qualities to one degree or another. The more cloudy side? Moody, occasional lapses into irresponsibility, poor time-management, not too hot a history with finances, a bit much for people sometimes, and one thing I just realized yesterday- a joy for lecturing.

Now, believe me, if you know my dad, you know that no one has ANYTHING on his ability to lecture you on any number of topics about which he may or may not have some small amount of knowledge. You also probably know that my husband does not usually get this way, which I think is because he's not the type of guy who thinks that he knows more about something than you do, but I've noticed that once in a while, if he has more experience or knowledge about something that we are both interested in, he'll get into Teacher Mode. Yesterday it was about running and breathing, but I don't remember other specific topics.

The cool thing, though, is that I didn't mind. He rarely does it, and it wasn't condescending or anything, so I was happy to smile and listen. I actually gave him a little hug because I thought it was so cute. I didn't say anything to him, but I thought, "My daddy does that!"

"You don't know what you're missing out on!"

This is what all but 5 people on the planet have told me and my husband when they found out that we aren't going to have children. And they're right- I don't know. Because I'm not going to experience it. It's fairly cut and dried. You don't know what you're missing when you don't get your foot cut off, either.

I can make guesses or people can tell me things- I'll never look into the face of a baby that I made. I won't see what the combination of our genes would look like. Although I can snuggle with plenty of toddlers and have kids run and throw themselves into my arms when they see me, it will never be because I am the most important person in the world to them- their mom.

It is a choice that I made, and I'm fine with it. Parents crow about the meaning or purpose their life has been given, the scales that fell of their eyes, and other poetic images, but my life does have a purpose. I have meaning- kids would just give it a different meaning or add aspects to the purpose that aren't currently there. But so can other things. I'm the most important person in the world to my husband, which is pretty damn sweet.

So I'm 32. My biological clock surely runs on a different circuit than my brain and heart, and it's possible that my hormones are throwing up dreams and feelings as some last-ditch effort to preserve the species. I say to those hormones, "Calm down, dearies. There are 9 kids out their already with parts of your code in them (children of cousins and nephews). The line isn't dying out." Will I admit that pregnant dreams make me think and that, maybe, there is a hint of wistfulness in them? Yes, I will. There is a hint of wistfulness, but mostly there is a moment of confusion, followed by the firm thought of, "Nope. Still don't want kids." The only thing on earth that I'm more sure of than not wanting kids is my joy that I no longer watch ER.

The other likely possibility, one that I can't believe I didn't think of until a minute ago (so dense sometimes!), is that my pregnant dreams have to do with my life, my purpose, my dreams- I'm getting ready to give birth to something new. Now that is exciting!