Life as it seems

Even Convicts Get One

2011-04-21T22:41:00.002-05:00

Today was a good day. Not in a "i did this amazing atypical task and rocked the world's socks!" sort of way, but in the normal people doing normal things way. I bought my first piece of real furniture that I intend to keep for years, and it was on sale. (i love ikea. love it love it love it. and also my bestie, Sarah, who helps me make large purchases by offering her minivan, her husband and her companionship on her _anniversary_. she is dedication, and I adore her.) After saying goodnight to my assembly team, I checked the mail and found a piece of junk mail. And a letter from the Virginia Board of Nursing informing me that my application for licensure as an RN is complete; pending receipt of my transcripts from college.

Life is actually moving in a positive direction. I can even almost get the feeling of "something's gotta go wrong cuz I'm feeling too damn good" out of my mind. Almost.

The feeling I can't shake is the one that wants to make a phone call. Just one. To say "life is amazing! I'm going to be a nurse, can you believe it?? Warren's wife is beautiful, you'd love her. Laura's really a go-getter on fire for Jesus. Annie's just incredible.-but I wish you coulda given her driving lessons. ............i love you, daddy."

It's one day shy of being 5 years since I hugged my father. Convicts get phone calls....and I just want one.

show me your war face

2011-02-16T12:50:00.002-05:00

Nursing school has been three years of trying. Three years of bending over backwards to comply with regulations and a methodology of thinking that turns my brain into knots. It's maddedning. It makes me cry when I'm not the sort of girl who cries. It frustrates me unlike anything else. I just want to graduate and be done. But before I can get that little piece of paper that declares me capable of taking a test I need to finish 3 more months of this junk. Which is why, tomorrow, I will be meeting with the associate dean regarding my preceptorship. Preceptorship is supposed to carry some amount of prestige with it. It's an opportunity above and beyond the typical nursing school experience. And while my precepting nurse is fantastic, I am really starting to wish I hadn't signed up for it. Additional clinical hours and requirements with my full time work/full time student lifestyle are just running me ragged. Add the seemingly arbitrary and baseless grades given on weekly homework assignments and, well, it's fast becoming more of a headache than it's worth. So, tomorrow, I will take my overly exhausted self to see this instructor and tell her just what I think. I am paying for this torture and have been paying for it for years. It's time they actually pay attention to what's going on and acknowledge the reality above the theory.

just a whisper

2011-02-09T05:27:00.002-05:00

today, well, yesterday, i was faced with two friends going through similar situations. neither of them live close enough for me to chat over a cup of coffee or something else warm and comforting, and that makes me sad. the other thing making me sad (aside from the fact that my smart phone apparently doesn't allow for capitalization of letters while blogging...) was the fact that i couldn't get myself to verbalize what i *really* thought. i said what i should have said, at least to one of them, but i couldn't say what i've wanted to say for a long time. why? why is it so hard for me to tell somebody the whispers of the quietest sort in my heart?

i'd like to think that it's because they're just silly thoughts i have complimentary of my commitaphobe tendencies, but i'm pretty sure it's more due to the fact that, while i'm doing well with my busy life, i am not yet fully alive.

but i want to be. and when i am, i want the courage to whisper out loud.

Epic

2011-01-12T00:36:00.003-05:00

Can we live epic consciously? Or is it something that just happens around us and sucks us in without warning?

That's something I've been thinking about a lot lately. The men and women who fought in World War II must have had some idea of the magnitude they were living. But at the same time, all of those battles and heroic gestures were simply the result of regular choices. The eyes of history see the epic decisions, but did the eyes of the present?

I want to live an epic life. But I seem to get bogged down in the presentness of it all sometimes. I know what the good decisions are most of the time, but it's so much easier to choose something else. I should get up earlier, work out more, eat better, have a training schedule set for all of the skills I want to hone: shooting, running, rescue, nursing. I should be a machine. A machine with empathy and gentleness and wisdom and all of these other things that I do not possess enough of. Unfortunately, I'm human. And my humanness makes me tired. Machines don't get tired. The machine schedule I feel pressured to enact gets confounded by my humanity and this thing called life that keeps happening around me. But at the same time, I know that machines don't live epics. Humans do. Humans who make choices. Every. Single. Day.

And I'll take you for who you are

2010-11-29T11:41:00.003-05:00

Have you ever stopped to think about the fact that God just loves you as you, where you are for who you are? Not for who you could be, or who you will be, or what you do, or might do, or any of that. Right here, right now. He loves you. All of you.

I think I forgot.

2010-11-24T23:28:00.002-05:00

Just singing the lyrics to get them out of my head
This melodic sad story of things left unsaid
If I knew what it meant I would tell you myself

So buy us a song on acoustic guitar
Make me believe that it’s really not far
To get to the dreams I thought were only my own

Could you tell me the truth about the distance between
All that we want and all it could mean
If the reality were only so easy to see

just tired.

2010-10-25T01:38:00.000-05:00

Something's gotta give.

That something always ends up being my immune system.

I didn't run a single shift of rescue throughout all of September.

I made great grades in September.

I didn't get sick in September.

I went to church more often in September.

I could kinda feel hope starting to grow again in September.

Now we're a week away from the end of October, I've picked up rescue again and loved it, made ok grades (though we'll see on Thursday if that's truly the case), gotten sick for a full week, missed church every Sunday and feel as though I'm just faking life, let alone hoping for anything other than a pillow and maybe a spontaneous show of generosity from my bosses in the form of a massive raise.

Yeah. Something's gotta give.

And I don't mean my immune system.

in the bano

2010-10-03T06:34:00.003-05:00

Things to add to my list of life experiences: being hugged by a patient in the bathroom.

I had just walked with her to help make sure she was ok and explain the whole clean catch urine process. That was it. I felt for her, to be sure - teary eyed and essentially friendless in a country not her own, the victim of what was probably drug induced violent assault - her story was awful. But her quivering hands stretched out over my shoulders after I encouraged her to "respire, por favor...uno, dos, tres...." in my pitiful attempt at Spanish nearly broke me down.

Truth be told, it was a fairly slow night at work. No big traumas, no strokes caught in the nick of time, just a lot of abdominal pain, some drug seekers and a few interesting mild injuries. I have no idea how that woman's story goes from here. I hope it gets worlds better and that she's reunited with her family and people who genuinely care for her. And I hope that I never lose the fact that she - and every other patient - matters.

romanced

2010-08-22T03:44:00.003-05:00

What is the exact definition of romance?

I don't know. And my current internet connection won't let me access a dictionary to find out. But when it comes to healthcare and my role in it, that's the only word that I can seem to fit. I am romanced by my job.

Cheesy - and kinda scary - I know.

Really? I ask myself. I mean, really. The whiny people, the close encounters with body fluids, the ceaseless beeping of monitors and call bells, the heirarchy and subsequent gossip? I like this?

Yep. I do.

I love the chance to help people. I love being part of something that's bigger than me. I love learning about how the human body works. I love getting a difficult IV. I love that, even on days when I don't want to be at work or deal with anyone, I can still say that I love my job.

There are nearly unlimited opportunities in healthcare. Most of them have initials: RN, NP, MD...hospitals are full of more acronyms than a military base.

And then there's the history. You can look back at the history of humanity and see evidence of medicine in practically every era. Greeks and Romans, medieval times, eastern medicine...the list continues and advances through time. Everything we know today is thanks to the efforts and errors of previous generations.

Society isn't unfamiliar with my romance. There is plenty of entertainment out there based on healthcare drama. I think the close association with life and death and the drama inherent to them draws people in. It's fascinating in ways unlike anything else.

There is no try.

2010-08-02T06:17:00.001-05:00

I think the thing that’s been eating at me so much recently is this question:

If we spend all of our time just “keeping up appearances” aren’t we simply living shadows?

For the past few years I’ve tried to consistently be the same person, no matter the circumstance. As it turns out, I have such a wide variety of interests and broad spectrum of friends, that it seems I cannot be me without offending someone. So I’ve become this half version of me that people cannot fully embrace because I can’t fully be present.

Don’t say what you think because it may be offensive. Don’t do what you want because you’re obligated to be somewhere else. There are bills to pay and people to impress.

Why?

Am I so terrified that my opinion will leave me friendless and alone?

Even when I know I’m right?

How arrogant is that?

And twisted. I mean, seriously, it goes back to that whole “I want him to like me” mentality. If he doesn’t like me for who I truly am, then what sort of relationship do we have? And let’s be honest. That hasn’t worked yet for this still very single nearly 26 year old white American female.

Twenty six. It’s my golden year. Why do I feel like I’m asking the same damn questions I had seven years ago? In some ways it feels like I was closer to knowing who I was then than I do now – at least there wasn’t as much artifice in between me and the person people see.

Even more maddening, I tell other people this constantly. “You cannot control how people react to you.” But I try. Oh, do I ever try. I observe, evaluate, consider and anticipate and keep my mouth shut because of it.

Sometimes it’s because I see things as bigger than they really are. Sometimes it’s because I just don’t have the energy to fully engage the situation. And sometimes it’s because I’m afraid of being rejected along with the Jesus I supposedly love.

That’s what this really comes down to, isn’t it? Faith. The questions, the answers, the lack of answers, the ignoring the answers, the questions the answers raise…and the nagging suspicion that, despite all I’ve done and tried to do, I still don’t get it.

I still can’t stick with a decision long enough to see it through to completion. Still can’t express genuine affection without feeling as though I’m overstepping some invisible line.

Still look at myself first instead of keeping my focus directed on the only One who can fix any of it.

I ask the questions, beg for answers and try so hard to make it all work out. Only to fall flat on my face with lack of self discipline.

Do I know how to fix it? No. But I am going to stop half trying and see if that makes a difference.

Incepted

2010-07-29T01:34:00.002-05:00

Everyone's asked the question, "what if real life is a dream, and my dreams are real life?" At least...I'm pretty sure everyone's asked it. I've asked it more than once, so that should make up for the few people who never thought to ask.

Anyway, Inception takes that question to a degree I don't think I could ever have imagined - quite skillfully - and makes a few other points along the way.

How much of our relationships are based on our perceptions of people, and not the people themselves? If you love someone, are you loving them with all of their idiosyncrasies, or are you loving your perception of them and how they fit into your world and how you see things?

And can you really build those architectural puzzles like never ending staircases?

What about building a less invasive version of the Matrix, using .....bracelets....that sucks you into the dream of the person on the other side of the wire?

Why do I always end up typing such dissatisfactorily short thoughts on this thing lately? I have more to say, my brain's just too sleepy to spit it out coherently right now.

Maybe I Really AM a Commitaphobe

2010-07-16T04:04:00.004-05:00

Am I the only person who has seasonal friendships?

There are so many people who have been integral parts of my life...and we just don't talk anymore. It's not like there was a big blow up or anything. Out of the dozen or so people I can think of, only two fall into that category. Instead it's almost as if life drifts us apart like clusters of seaweed on the tide.

What's perhaps even more bizarre about the whole thing is the fact that certain people among my drifters seem to try to cling to how things were before; while others just pick up where we left off. Then there are those who never really drifted very far away, so the connection is still there, just . . . loosely; and the rest who are basically totally gone.

...in other news, we just had an earthquake. *blink*

Somewhere

2010-07-13T00:16:00.002-05:00

There is a place I want to be
Where time slows down and my heart can breathe
Every day is peace and free
That's the place I want to be

There is a place I want to live
Where strength and comfort are gifts I give
Hearts are softened and safe to dream
That's the place I want to be

There is a place I long to see
Where trust is safe inherently
The only danger to be found
Is a step not taken to unseen grounds

My soul wants freedom, space to be
And rest from all that's wearied me
Someday it won't be just a dream
Until then, glimpses, hopefully

Here in the Quiet, I wonder

2009-07-23T04:13:00.002-05:00

Just what kind of nurse will I be?

And why can't life be like TV, where people work all day at a frenetic pace and then somehow have the time and energy to look fabulous while chilling out with their friends over a couple of drinks and still get a full night of sleep?

Will I ever be consistent?

And what is it like to fit into a single digit sized pair of pants, anyway? Or to use styling products and accessories with skill and reliable results? Do girls really use make up every day and enjoy it? Does it make a difference?

Can I really talk to God and represent Him to the people I love who don't have a clue about what He's really like?

Without falling on my face or disappointing people I love most in the world?

It seems that I can go for only so long before dropping dead in the middle of the race, and that doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense. I mean, we're supposed to run with endurance, not brief spurts of exhilaration. Just when I'm getting the whole balance of working out, eating right, sleeping and even a little bit of fashion sense thrown in for fun, the spend time in the Word, talk to God, build quality relationships, learn things part goes out the window. I don't want a random amalgamation of junk. I want awesome.

We always think that if we change something, it will get better. All that needs to change is us. A new town, new car, new degree, new relationship, new job won't make the difference. I keep thinking that my life will slow down when the semester's over, or when I get my degree, or if I quit running so much rescue.

It won't. I've gotten addicted to the ratrace I hate so much...even though I swear I'm one of the laziest people to ever convert oxygen to carbon dioxide. The externals don't make the difference.

God, help.

Torning (Tonight + Morning)

2009-07-07T04:07:00.002-05:00

We got a call right when I walked in the door at 1757 - dispatched as an illness, arrived on scene to find conscious but unresponsive guy. Unfortunately, I was driver on that call, so I had the chance to look inept and wander around getting stuff for everyone else doing actual patient contact. *sigh* honestly, I need more practice with patient contact in situations like that. They're the kind that still freak me out. If a person can talk to me we can get things eventually worked out. Case and point: the call we just got at 0317. Post op dude with catheter problems. He thought we could just flush it at his house....not so much. The medic showed up, asked if I was comfortable treating it BLS and left to grab more sleep. I would like to take this moment to brag on my awesome crew and state that our response time - out of a dead sleep for 2/3 of the crew - was 2 minutes and the total call time was 63 minutes. Rock it, ladies :-D

Sarah and I raided Bloom for strawberries, bread and cheese. She concocted a spice and olive oil mixture that had the firefighters raving about gourmet cooking - even though few of them actually sampled the awesomeness.

Annnnd I fought with the internet because it's stupid for some reason. I guess basic functionality is here, but I feel lost without chat. This same annoyance pattern can be seen with my frustration at TNT for not letting Mac users watch episodes of the new medical drama "HawthoRNe" online. I don't have cable tv and I'd like to watch this show, ok?! hmph. Ah well, in little over a month all thoughts of free time activities will be out the window. I'm going to sleep now.

2009-06-12T02:39:00.003-05:00

I think that learning to love is like learning to walk.

Horribly necessary, incredibly awkward and altogether pretty awesome

After you've done it for a while, you kinda take it for granted, and when it gets stripped away the pain and yearning for it to come back is overwhelming.

Rehab?

Harder than I want to think about right now. Just let me cry.

And so it was...

2009-04-29T11:26:00.003-05:00

...that winter left the mid-Atlantic, and with it, Naomi's mutant power of developing lizard skin.

And also, apparently, Naomi's ability to concentrate on things like school work and tests that are happening in 24 hours.

We've had the most gorgeous-bordering-on-disgustingly-hot weather for the past couple of days. Today is overcast and drippy, but the green of the grass and the leaves is so vibrant and alive that it really isn't a "curl up and sleep" sort of cloudiness. It's aching with the promise of now.

That's how I feel these days - aching with the promise of now. Promises mean anticipation and future awesomeness and "wait and see, it's gonna be great!" but I'm living now. In the present tense.

So I ache.

And wonder what to do and where I'll go and how it all works out, only to conclude that it WILL work out, somehow and all I can do is my best, right now, so quit thinking, start doing and....

it's finals week. why am i blogging? :-P

This is Me

2009-04-03T23:42:00.002-05:00

I think that I don't write very much any more because I'm getting better at talking - and I actually have people to talk to now. As opposed to high school when I knew basically nobody.

That said, there are still a number of things that float through my head that I don't really express very much. Or maybe I DO talk about them, but a certain depth of exploration can be had when words are written rather than spoken. For instance: I am sick of being fat. I have been fat for years and years and years. For a long time, I didn't know anything different. I thought it was normal to be a size 14 at 14 years old, and, well, to continue until you hover on the border of XL for years at a time in such a way that is nearly maddening. "Normal" clothes don't fit, and "plus size" is like wearing a tent. Great. Besides that, though, there's an entire facet of my personality that never gets to explore because of being overweight. I LOVE being outside. I went on a 13 mile hike this past summer and it was absolutely amazing -- though it took a heck of a lot longer than it should have for a 23 year old person. Hills kill me...probably always will, but they shouldn't make me feel like that after 10 minutes. I want to snowboard, ski and RUN. I want to ride in a 3 day event [and I have a trainer pushing for me to do just that this coming Fall . . . ] I want to dance.

Sure, I want flat abs. Who doesn't? It'd be nice to have things that are supposed be toned be...toned. But it's more than that. I'm sick of being the fat funny friend. I'm sick of wondering if the only reason I rarely get hit on is my weight. Not that I WANT to be hit on by skeevy dudes, but it makes you wonder when your 15 year old sister has to figure out how to handle that sort of thing when you've never had the problem.

I realize that there are so many people out there with health problems and other issues that prevent them from living an active vivaciously physical life. I'm not one of them. I'm just freakin fat.

And yeah, I've been sick of it for a long time, and sure, I've tried various diets and work out routines and whatever. I've gone down and regained and contemplated anorexic behaviors. The only thing I haven't done is actually gotten better. This isn't a disease, this is a lifestyle of ignorance leading to poor choices and denial.

Turn the lights on; it's over.

Being Single/in a relationship/Married . . . . Human?

2009-02-28T23:24:00.002-05:00

The macadamia and I saw "He's Just Not That Into You" the other night. Of course, being girls, we don't really need a reason to start talking about relationships and people, but the movie definitely spurred some conversation. What does a healthy relationship look like? Which of the relationships portrayed in the film most closely resembled that? How much of a difference is there between relationships with a Christian foundation and relationships without one? (Somewhere in there, I pointed out that there is a significant portion of the female population that NEVER gets marred. She didn't believe me, but we looked it up - 24%. That's almost 1 in 4. Given the number of weddings I've been associated with, well . . . I won't say it here, she'll hit me again.)

And then my brother called me a couple of nights ago and we started talking about the same sort of thing - only with a broader scope. The tone of the conversation was different simply because neither of us is in a relationship right now and we can ask questions like "is it really beneficial to get paired up with another person?" Sure, the desire's there for a reason, but if you're honest with yourself, are you going to live a life of fuller productivity for God with the distraction of another person? That, of course, raises the question of which is the greater distraction: desiring a relationship, or being in one. I'm not sure we reached much of a solid conclusion with that, beyond "Some relationships are really good and definitely founded on mutual pursuit of God...others, not so much. Right now, God has both of us in a place of 'being single' so we'll just go with that." It was a good conversation.

All of the talking got me pondering. And then I read 1 John before I left for work tonight.

"By this we know love, because He laid down His life for us. And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. But whoever has this world's goods, and sees his brother in need, and shuts up his heart from him, how does the love of God abide in him? My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth." ~ 1 John 3:16-18, NKJV

I could keep typing up verses from that book - there are so many that go *ZOT!* - but I'm pretty sure that all of the random brain things that I'm typing up already are going to get confusing, so I'm going to try to slow down my thoughts to match my typing speed and make the statement that I almost used as the title to this post: love sucks.

Regardless of the context - romantic, friendship, parent-child, passing acquaintanceship - love, real love, sucks. It hurts. It's sacrifice. There are definitely a bundle of benefits to go with it - and the warm fuzzies of knowing someone else cares are pretty cool - but when you get down to the nitty gritty of just what it is that God's telling us to do.....yeah, it bites.

Think about it: when Christ was on His way to the cross, that was love. That was why He came. We're called to pick up our cross and follow Him (Matt. 16:24). Our love for Him brings the likelihood of persecution and lack of understanding on the part of others (John 15:20). Putting some serious thought into the whole "marriage is a reflection of Christ's relationship with the church" thing will absolutely blow your mind. Christ died for the church. The church is martyred for Christ. Christians don't take part in certain lifestyles because we believe they are not honoring to God. It's a form of sacrifice not unlike the sacrifices that are made in solid marriage relationships every day.

*sigh* Ok, my train of thought totally got interrupted by various dealings here at work. The general point that I'm trying to make is that love is hard. But I guess that makes sense...I mean, it's a - if not THE - key aspect of God. Without Him, it's pretty much impossible.

I am not Wonder Woman

2009-02-13T23:20:00.002-05:00

It's true. While I may have been christened WW back at my former place of employment, I can't do everything all at once. I've tried...again. And again, well, I've failed. But! I quit while I was ahead, and life is good :-) [side note: lifting heavy boxes of paper and stuff is no where near as difficult as lifting heavy people who want to bite you]

As further explanation of my current situation, I am no longer enrolled in the nursing program that I fought tooth and nail to get into less than a year ago. When I started in the fall with all sorts of administrative hoops and other idiocy, I had an inkling that this wasn't going to work, but I gave it a shot anyway. This semester, with more credits than I've EVER taken (except for that one time back in my freshman year when I tried 21...) and a full time job on the night shift, I basically died. Not literally, mind you. In fact, I've been doing better as far as life in general goes. Academically, however, life was going less than great. I completely forgot a paper that was due, fell behind by about two week's worth of assignments in an online class and finally ended up postponing an exam until the end of the semester. I never forget papers. Ever. While online classes are easy targets for procrastination, the point I was reaching was unacceptable. And postponing exams is very near the top of "things I REALLY do not like to do." All of the stuff that I had to do would render me incapable of logical thought. I would literally log in, look at my classes and freeze.
"I should study Pharmacology for tomorrow"
"But I NEED to study micro"
"Oh gosh, that stupid paper was supposed to be submitted three days ago"
"It's 4 in the morning. Why am I up?"
"Dratit, I need to read that other thing, too . . . ."

My brain can be a pretty crazy place sometimes - and thank you for the concern, but all of those thoughts were not voices and I'm not seeing things or having suicidal ideation.

After a great deal of consideration, consultation and a rather healthy dose of prayer, I decided to drop two classes. That places me at 10 credits for the semester, and I fully intend to pull a 4.0 on them. I do not believe that education should come at the cost of my life. I love everything I'm involved in right now - my job [well, you know, most of the time], rescue squad, my INCREDIBLE friends and family... and school is just another thing to add to the list. It's important, sure, but it doesn't trump anything else - except for maybe work...and work involves income, so that's not really possible for me right now.

It might take me until I'm 80 to graduate, but at least I'll have lived along the way.

three weeks til spring break

2009-02-12T04:15:00.003-05:00

For as long as I've been in college, I haven't really done a whole lot with "YAY SPRING BREAK!!!" sorts of things.

Thankfully, that's changing this year :-D

There are some people who whistle like tea kettles when they snore.

If you think I'm joking, you should hear what I'm hearing right now. I don't know if this particular person was ever married, but if they were, I have very strong feelings of sympathy for their spouse.

I got yelled at in Hungarian tonight. That was a new experience and not one that I'm very likely to wish repeated.

Actually, tonight had a few "that can be the only time that ever happens and I will not be sad" sorts of things. I dumped a bucket of mop water on the floor and kinked my back when positioning a patient (seriously, you're supposed to keep weight close to your body and not twist while moving a person in a bed??? right. you have fun with that). And I am seriously fighting a crazy case of the tireds because I didn't go running before work today. Endorphins are amazing things. I'm addicted to them. Gimme. ...I just realized this paragraph makes it sound as though I dumped mop water while positioning my patient. I didn't. And no, I'm not going to fix the paragraph. I'm tired.

In about 14 hours I will be done with my first monster killer exam of the year. I'm about half way ready, I think. That's not enough, but...well...I'm doing what I can. If I can solidify my memorization of the molecular steps involved in the formation of urine, I think it'll be ok. Oddly enough, the molecular stuff involved with respiration is very straightforward to me. [watch me bomb that part. haha.]

It's crazy windy outside right now. I hope a tree doesn't fall on my car, cuz that would pretty much not be a good thing. Also, I think whatever sort of storm this is interfered with cell service, because my blackberry's battery was basically dead after 6 hours.

Anyway, those are my random thought type things of the evening...morning...time thingy. I'm going to keep listening to teakettle person and hope that 0700 comes more quickly now.

Do You Ever Wonder

2009-02-07T03:23:00.002-05:00

I've been working on a Baccale..whatsawhozit degree since I finished high school 7 years ago. [fyi, that's almost twice as long as it's supposed to take] There are a variety of reasons for it taking so long - switching majors, failed classes, lack of finances, Dad dying, not sure what I'm doing with my life.... but for the most part, I've been enrolled in a college for at least part of every single one of those seven years.

Why?

Seriously, I've asked this question before, and been convicted with the truth of the fact that, when I left for school way back when, I wasn't praying "what should I do?" as much as it was "I'm going to college now, so where?" Now I find myself wondering if I'm just going for the 4 year because I started this thing, darnit, and I WILL finish it, hell or highwater or...or.... [I get so articulate when I'm tired, it's really quite impressive]

Compounding the questions is the idiocy of college administration. Here's some news for you, boys and girls, it doesn't matter where you go, the admin is going to do something dumb. That's just how the game is played. It is your job to suck it up and deal. This has frustrated me since the dawn of my college career and the problems I'm currently facing are nearly inspiration enough to once again switch to something or somewhere else. (well, that, along with the fact that my prof told me straight up last night that EMS people have a hard time making the transition to nursing because it requires a different mindset. yikes?)

This is probably just the tired rambling of a mind overwhelmed by the stack of reading it faces over the weekend...but there's still a part of me that chafes at the fact that I'm supposed to put stuff before people. People are the reason I'm doing this stuff! How twisted can you get?

Art

2009-01-19T03:42:00.002-05:00

I am not an artist.

There are parts of my heart that yearn to express themselves; through pictures, through sketches, through music...and every time I try to get it out, it's not what I want it to be. The pictures in my heart are richer than the ones that pop out of my camera. The drawings in my mind aren't lopsided and disappointingly two dimensional. And the songs that lie sleeping in my soul have harmonies that blend so perfectly with a melody yet unheard.

So, I write. But because the words aren't pictures or music [and we all know that a picture is worth a thousand words...music is a different language entirely] I scorn myself. I scorn the words. The thought that mere letters can express the depth of my heart on any given subject seems pathetic.

Which means I stop writing, in turn bottling up the all of the stuff that doesn't get expressed in any other form of art.

Vicious cycle, really....compounded by lack of time and a dying laptop battery.

Hospice

2009-01-15T00:27:00.002-05:00

There's a patient on my unit who is now on "full hospice care" She's obviously dying. I go in to check on her during rounds and have to stand and watch for a full 15 seconds in order to see her catch her breath.

Two nights ago, I was sitting with a patient who came to us with norovirus and her agitation got increasingly worse - especially when I tried to get her to lie down. Then she started gurgling and coughing and sounding generally not good. Upon transport to the ER downstairs, suction became necessary and the greenest stuff I've ever seen come out of person made its appearance. She was transferred to the big hospital and died the next day.

When I started working on a psych unit, I never thought that I'd be facing extensive geriatric/nursing home type situations. It's so...sad. But not in the "I just want to cry" sense. It's not really emotional for me; there's a disconnect in my brain that doesn't allow for emotion to get involved. I try to make these people comfortable; I do everything I can to help them, and then I move straight to the acceptance stage. There's a sort of check in my brain saying that someday, all of this is going to come back to me and I'm going to become a flipped out basket case........I hope not. It's my goal to ease the suffering and make the unnaturalness of death and the transition to it less painful - for the patient AND the patient's family. That last part is kind of difficult when the unit is on isolation due to norovirus exposure.

Tomorrow is my first BioMedical Ethics class. I got a peek at the syllabus tonight and we will be discussing things like living wills and advanced directives this semester. Now that it's out of the hypothetical and into reality for me I think it's going to feel like more of a fuzzy area. Guess we'll see...

Unplugged...with a lot of thoughts and a dying battery.

2009-01-12T01:19:00.003-05:00

I don't like feeling as though I am misunderstood, but it's worse when I feel that the misunderstandings are a direct result of my miscommunication.

And I seriously have a bunch of deep and probing brain things about this line of thought, but, as usual, they are being difficult to express while at work. So I'm going to do this thing that Heidi had on her blog....

{Bold items have been done by me}

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child {I have three Compassion kids!}
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill {it wasn't really a sick day; my boss knew I was going skiing. It was a snow day}
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language {barely...the French I self taught in high school hasn't really lasted}
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance {I've transported...countless people...and I've PLAYED at being a patient, so I think I sort of get points}
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life {most. amazing. feeling. ever.}
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a mobile phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day

And...yeah, ok, that's it. I would like to think that going to Europe - or rather, NOT going, doesn't define my life...and hey, I've swum in the Blue Lagoon in Iceland! And been to the cliff in Scotland that constitutes the Biblical "uttermost parts of the earth." That's gotta count for something ;-)

Appreciating Gravity

2009-01-08T21:42:00.002-05:00

I fell off a horse today.

It was my fault, really. I was being lazy and not paying attention, and then the other horse spooked, which spooked my horse and, well, lateral movement was not at the forefront of my mind just then.

It's gonna hurt worse in the morning.

But that's ok. My schedule is finally adjusted to the point where I'll be able to ride regularly once a week! I'm pretty excited about that. We'll see if I'm able to maintain a decent GPA along with the rest of my activities...and sleep is something that needs to be more of a priority this semester. But for the most part, I'm excited.

Tonight I am babysitting the duckie. The duckie is absolutely adorable, and while I love her to pieces, she has thoroughly convinced me that having children is not at the top of my "achieve before menopause" list. I don't know how mothers do it. I seriously don't. And I definitely don't know how they survive more than one little person who screams for no apparent reason for hours on end. Seriously. The child was obviously exhausted (she's finally sleeping now.....) but she just kept wailing. There would be brief moments of respite when she would suck on her sleeve and hiccup, but once her lungs recovered, she'd be back to screaming full force again. I'm only here for an evening and she's driven me closer to insanity. How do moms DO it???

Whew. Anyway. I should be writing a history assignment instead of a ranting random blog post.

Well That Was Interesting [and other tales from the north]

2009-01-08T20:24:00.001-05:00

So my 2009 began in a prophetic meeting service thingy.

I could go into a long drawn out explanation of why I'm leery of prophetic meeting thingies. There's an interesting history involving well-intentioned people and a youthful ignorance about charismatic doctrine that was quickly...nonignoranced. But the past isn't really going to help put much in perspective this time. Neither is a debate on the merits of doctrine questioning the validity of prophecy in modern times.

The fact of the matter is, for as much as my relationship with God has become sort of like those marriages where the involved parties live in the same house, share the same bed and go through the motions of building a life together without actively knowing each other anymore, I knew that He had a reason for bringing me to that spot. And I knew that I wasn't really going to buy whatever any preacher man had to say. Or I would at least...chew on it and try to dissect it and otherwise, you know, rationalize.

So it came as no real surprise to me when the guy picked me out of the row and had me stand in the aisle to pray over me. It came as no surprise when he used the word "annointing" about 3 times in 30 seconds; his type is rather fond of the word "annointing" I'm not, but hey.

He said a lot of things, but the thing that got me most was a fervent "open the door to believing again!" that almost seemed an afterthought in prayer. My sisters pick on the fact that he called me "strong and bullheaded," attributing such characteristics to our dad. What if I am? It means I haven't given up.

I know that a lot of what is marketed as prophecy tends to be super generalized and broadly applicable, but I also believe that God knows what I need....and He gives it to me.

Now if we could just get back to the "yep, I trust You, lead me off the cliff...." point.

Where is the line

2008-12-19T05:40:00.002-05:00

between ignorance and bliss?

I asked that question and received "Prudence and common sense" as an answer. Good point, but doesn't the question beg the point that ignorance is not truly bliss?

Hmm.

Anyway, I am a released EMT. I am responsible for a crew, a patient, a scene, an ambulance and pretty much all sorts of things that should terrify me, but, oddly enough, don't.

Another thing on the list of oddities: pediatric calls are fairly infrequent. Since I've been running as a released provider I've had three patients. They ranged in age from 6 days to 11 years.

Wanna see something funny? Send a girl who's terrified of infants in the first place into a pediatric office where she's expecting to find a 6 month old patient [eek!] and instead present her with a 6 day old actively being suctioned with a bulb syringe. {EEK!!!}

Ok, I know that suctioning mucous and junk is not a big deal for the most part. Babies throw up all the time, and they get gunky and need to be wiped up after, but this was kinda different and rather nervewracking. Fortunately, we transported and arrived at the hospital safely, but it's not something I'd like to repeat any time soon. Afterward I was emphatically told by both the medic AND the senior EMT on my crew that I can no longer run Thursday day shift.

I'm exhausted and wondering why I love this stuff so much......

....and I'm happy.

W. T. F.

2008-12-07T17:02:00.002-05:00

For real!? Truly and honestly and....just REALLY?!?!???

Ok, so it's not like I ever had any illusions of being the only girl he was dating. And I didn't really think that it was going "work out." And I knew that I shouldn't be dating a nonChristian/nominal Catholic/whatever it is that he is.

But a kid?? He's gonna have a KID?! And I find out on Google. This is great. Juuuuust great. The irony is simply dazzling, and I feel sick.

I feel sick for me, in a way, just because....I was vulnerable to something like this. Oh my gosh. But I feel more sick for her. For that poor woman who is in a relationship with him, all happy and excited and planning a nursery and preparing to go through the most painful physical experience known to all womankind. How can he do that to her? She doesn't deserve to be two-timed. Nobody deserves that. And quite honestly, I'm pretty sure it's not two-timed. It's more likely something like 5 timed or worse.

What am I supposed to do? I finally talked to him about it, and he got toooootally pissed at me. Told me that I don't really have a whole lot of life experience to go on and that looking people up online is a bad idea because you might find out things that you "just don't need to know!" Said he'd "talk to me later" at the end of the conversation, but I'm not counting on it.

Why do I care? This hurts so much. My heart is breaking for a woman I've never met and the son she's going to meet next month. My heart is breaking for him, too. That he could become so emotionally detatched as to actually....oh, God. I'm a messed up cookie, for sure, but at least my screw ups don't hold intense attachment to a series of other people.

Or they didn't until this.

I knew from the moment I met him that my life would be different as a result, but this is beyond, by far, ANYTHING that possibly would have gone through my mind.

Now what?

2008-11-17T08:23:00.002-05:00

Hey, God.

uh...You're supposed to say "hi" back now?

Hello?

*sigh*

Look, I know that things have kinda...sucked...lately. And I know that's my fault. I'm a person and imperfect and all of that. I'm sorry.

Ok, so I'm not REALLY sorry. Not in the "I hereby repent of all my wickedness and shall sell all of my belongings and move to deepest darkest Africa to pray for the pagans" sense of the word.

I'm not even sure what sense of the word I DO mean it; come to think of it. It's just...the thing to say when you're friends with someone and haven't talked in a long time. And, well, we haven't really talked, so, You know. . . .

Are you even there, or am I talking to Your answering machine? My dad's there, isn't he? He's listening to this whooooole thing and laughing at me.

Maybe he's missing me? Cuz I really, really miss him, God. I miss him like . . . like there's no description.

Every time I try to talk to You these days, he comes up somehow. And that hurts. So, uh, that's kinda why I haven't been talking to You. If I don't think, junk doesn't come up, and so it can't hurt.

At least not perceptively.

Until now, when I find my heart so simultaneously hardened and eroded that I don't recognize it at all and it scares me.

Where did the hope go?

Where did love go?

.....where the heck did YOU go???

GOD!!! ABBA!!!! I'M TALKING TO YOU DOWN HERE, DO YOU EVEN CARE?!

*pants*

That's an honest question. I'm not saying it to be cliche. I mean it. Do You care? Do You give a flying fig?

I cuss sometimes; does that horrify You?

Does that guy horrify you?

Are you horrifiable? Maybe horrify isn't the right word, but it's what's in my head right now. It seems that's the reaction I get from people who claim you.

Well, actually, it's the reaction I expect to get. Lots of them don't know. A few of them just look at me like I'm the little lost sheep. Poor silly Naomi, went astray and found a briar patch. Tsk tsk. Let's pray her out of it, boys and girls.

Yeah, pray me out of this while you stay in your happy little bubble of nonreality, where your love is ineffective because it bounces back in your face off the spring loaded smiley faced trampoline walls you build. Pray harder, everyone, because that version ain't gonna cut it this time.

Ew. Ok, God, I really am sorry about that one. Bitterness is something You don't appreciate, that much I know. And it's not supposed to grow in me. I don't think I knew that was there....at least, not like that. Yikes.

.....the artifice has gotta get to You too, though, right?

Now and Then

2008-11-07T00:23:00.002-05:00

The thought that the person I was 3 years ago would be horrified by the person I am today is something that's been on my mind quite a bit these days. Since I haven't really been able to explain it satisfactorily to people who ask me what I mean, I thought I'd write it out and see if that helps.

The me of three years ago was at enrolled in a yet to be accredited conservative Christian college. She was convinced that God brought her to the east coast from the midwest for reasons yet to be revealed and that loving a guy who didn't love her was her calling in life. The me of three years ago was something of an emo drama queen sometimes. Three years ago, I was working on the campus of the college I attended. I continued working there because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to find - or handle - a job anywhere else, even though I was entering upper level course work in a government policy degree and attaining the highest GPA I'd ever achieved at that college. Three years ago, I was striving for independence. Rescue Squad was nonexistent in my world and I drove around in an Oldsmobile.

I knew a grand total of...zero...nonChristians. My world was a safe little bubble all wrapped in pretty paper.

Today . . . I still have emo drama queen tendencies, but they tend to drive me up a wall, so I crush them rather than embrace them. No longer attending or working at the conservative Christian college, no longer convincing myself to be in love with someone (though there are a host of questions in that area of my life right now that I'm just sort of mulling over) Government is something I hiss at and avoid like the plague. My grades while pursuing a degree in nursing are better than any I got while studying policy. I drive a Dodge and Rescue Squad practically owns my soul.

The me of today counts people who don't love God among some of the most amazing individuals she has the privilege of knowing. And they're PEOPLE to me, not projects, or things to put on a prayer list.

I think that's the thing that would rock the world of three years ago me more than anything else. That, along with the fact that the shiny paper got shredded, the bubble was popped, and reality doesn't look anything like the distorted gauzy picture we paint from behind the plastic stained glass of modern Christianity. Life is tough out here -- but it's ALIVE.

Better

2008-10-21T00:27:00.002-05:00

"I'm getting better!"

And not in the Monty Python sense, either. It's an amazing thing to realize that God infuses us with hope we can't control - or kill. More amazing is the fact that He places people in our lives to truly love us when we're at our lowest sludge point.

(oddly enough, realizing this makes it easier for me to be a decent EMT...)

Now I just need to figure out how to carry on a conversation with a non-drunk, non-crazy person....

2008-10-16T02:43:00.002-05:00

I write in poetry when I can't say what I mean for real. It's probably some sort of coping mechanism, evidenced by the fact that poetry generally happens when I'm working through some sort of crisis or other less than deliriously happy experience.

The thing is . . .I find this annoying. What I write has feeling, yes, but I don't want to write painful or hopeless sounding trash, so the hopefulness that gets expressed often feels tacked on or obligatory and thus, I hate it.

Besides that, my brain and style are stuck in the SAME METER EVERY TIME. Do I know that poetry doesn't have to rhyme? Yes. Yes, I do. But it doesn't matter, because if I write something that doesn't rhyme, it drives me nuts, and so I search around for just the word to fit my syllabic cadences. Then I FIND the word, and the fact that I found it drives me nuts, because I didn't have to, darnit, I was just writing.

Hmph.

Anyway. I am not doing well these days. Admitting this is probably indicative of a pending betterness, but honestly, I'm not holding my breath. Surface level is ok; keeping busy and getting rid of last week's beyond nasty sinus infection. Beyond that...well, let's talk about something else, shall we? I got mad at God and didn't talk to Him for a while and now things are in such a state that I don't feel as though I have any right to talk to Him. So, of course, I yell at Him. That definitely helps. Until I realize that I have no place to be doing that and so shut up again.

For being female, my communication skills are abysmal.

2008-10-15T00:51:00.003-05:00

There wasn't too much to me
When you walked into my life
You asked simple questions
The answers were concise
But minutes turn to hours
Hours turn to days
Your presence became something
I expected in some way

Our tastes in music were so different
Our age and history, too
But you seemed to like my presence
And the fact my eyes are blue
So the minutes became hours
Hours turned to days
And your ever-prolonged glances
Flattered, in a way

Now it's six months later
And glances became more
You wrapped your arms around me
My heart didn't feel so sore
Strength is an anesthetic
When it's not my own
I'm addicted to the numbness
The pretense of a home

A call tonight from someone
Who's known me many years
Made me realize something
That should render me to tears
It's a disturbing thing to notice
In the middle of the night
You never really loved me
And I can't make this right

2008-09-27T23:24:00.001-05:00

keep on breathing
keep on bleeding
though no one sees the wound
looks like a scar
but do you care
to know real life this soon

yes, keep on breathing
please stop bleeding
pain like this can't last
time will heal it
truth reveals it
shadows overcast

if i could just stop bleeding
must i stop breathing?
no, He did that once

He kept on bleeding
then stopped breathing
and kicked death's sorry...*cough*

if You kept on bleeding
so i can keep breathing
why does it hurt so bad?
i feel i don't know You
Your truths are just virtues
like life is a joke - time to laugh

but i'll keep on breathing
eventually stop bleeding
and You'll hold me close
safe
not alone

What's Love Got To Do With It?

2008-07-09T15:54:00.002-05:00

Is it possible to love too easily and yet somehow not really at all? Sometimes I think there's an invisible wall just below the surface of my heart. A person gets in and starts to feel the warmth but then lightly smacks into this immovable resistance. The warmth is soothing and pleasant at first, but like a shallow bath, cools all too quickly and you find yourself wanting to get out or plunge deeper - the sooner the better.

Love, by definition, is not self seeking. So why is it so hard to tear down so-called defenses?
The whole process makes me simultaneously cagey and lonely, excited and terrified, analytical and emotional; to the point that I wonder if sanity is something that I can actually claim.

And why is it that I can't seem to really write what I mean these days?

Ok, I'll say it.

2008-07-02T21:13:00.001-05:00

QUIET!

AAGGGGHHHHH!!!!!

I went out to an east end station to precept today with the idea that I'd actually get some calls.

Ha.

One little old lady and six hours later....

Patientless Call Sheets

2008-07-01T21:45:00.002-05:00

So now I'm precepting. Last week my Virginia Certificate arrived in the mail and so I'm spending every possible moment [within a slight degree of reason] at the station, simultaneously anticipating and dreading calls. I know that they're not going to throw me out there without any backup, that's why I'm precepting, but still. It's kinda daunting at times if a girl thinks too much.

The majority of my precepting experience has come in the form of patientless call sheets. We get dispatched and then put back in service while en route, or we arrive and discover that there's no patient, and no door to be unlocked because the kid woke up and unlocked the car already.

Sometimes, I tell ya . . . .

I won't actually SAY the "q" word, but it seems like it could apply to the western front these days. At least when I'm running.

In other news, the new job is going quite well. They decided to use me as a tech, instead of a secretary, so I get to wear scrubs and deal with patients on a face to face level, rather than sit on my butt all day and answer a phone for 8 hours. I'm happy. (besides that, there's the whole three twelve hour shifts a week aspect, which isn't half shabby when you're looking at going back to school . . .)

Last week I finally "went out" with a group from the station. It was fun. I had a few drinks I'd never heard of, successfully dodged attempts at getting me wasted and basically had a good time. While I don't understand how people find the money to do that on a regular basis, let alone why anyone would want to drink their brain away into oblivion, I'm glad I went. Buddies are good to have :-)

Passage

2008-06-16T08:14:00.002-05:00

On Saturday, June 14, 2008 at approximately 1300, I passed the test to become a Loudoun County EMT-B. My partner and I nailed trauma, medical, BLS skills and airway practicals the first time through. The one we didn't get - AED - can be attributed to nervousness combined with lack of equipment in the scenario. When your adrenaline's going, it's hard to remember that there's hypothetical oxygen to hook up. As for the written, I missed my goal of a perfect 100 by one measly point. Hmph. Yet another lesson in critical reading skills on multiple choice tests.

State testing is on Thursday. Tonight's my first shift back at the station. Life is crazy busy. And somewhere, somehow, I know:

I was made for this.

Loneliness

2008-05-21T15:30:00.004-05:00

Feeling lonely is sort of a choice, I guess. But there are some degrees of it that cannot be worked away.

For some reason, my heart wants to find a buddy. I don't want to fall in love, and all interaction with males of the single persuasion is not really convincing me to change my mind on that topic. I don't even really want a best friend, though I'm seriously missing my macadamia these days.

No, I think my heart is wanting church. Not the "put on your happy face, sing the songs, plunk you butt in the pew and then leave for whatever activity of your choosing" version, but the "let's live life together, tell me what's up, or let's just sit and let God talk to us together" version.

And I can't find it.

Maybe this is on my mind because they keep telling us to prioritize our personal safety on scene, because, after all "each of you is someone's favorite person." Ha. That's true for several people, but I know it's not the case for me. Sure, I'd be missed, but it's not like anyone would be devastated. . . . death has a way of making a girl cynical, I think. Besides that, my brainwave's lonely. Dad's been off it for over two years now. I'm still kicking, but nobody quite gets it.

I don't think I'd want to know if someone did.

Good grief, this is not coming out the way I mean for it to. No more late afternoon musing under tired stress!

A Day in the Life

2008-04-29T18:02:00.002-05:00

of absolute insanity.

In the words of my native land: Uff da.

Yesterday I got up and went running in the morning, which somehow gave me tons of energy for all of Monday -- enough to get through an insanely boring lecture and then go shopping afterwards.

Today, I slept in and felt like I was going to fall asleep at my desk every time I sat down.

Anyway, while boxing graduation supplies and other various bookish supplies that the Publications Department handles, I got a phone call. I went inside to speak with the background investigator handling my friend's application for work in the intelligence field. While speaking with said investigator, the chain on my bullet broke. It was rather sudden, and I didn't have opportunity to display sadness. Because the chain is now so short, it's hanging from the rearview mirror of my car.

After the investigative discussion, I returned to the trailer and continued sorting emails and boxing packages and hauling packages to the mailroom and making an overall mess of my work space. There were a lot of orders and many items to restock, meaning many empty boxes. They started adding up after a while.

And I was still tired, so I took lunch break to go retrieve caffeine.

It didn't really help.

But I kept working. And people came out to be trained and package things and the pile of boxes got bigger.

And then there was this whole thing about being set up on a blind date, and the conversation I had with my mother as a result, which involved being informed that I must have inherited my lips from my dad. . . .

Now I'm sitting in a chair at home, waiting for the internet to come back on so that I can finish a conversation with a friend and post this ridiculously disjointed blog post. Katie's making bread, because she's amazing that way, and I'm going running in the morning with the hope that it will give me energy to get through the day. Energy is going to be in high demand, because I have to finagle my way into an entrance exam with the community college and then go to EMT class... There's lots of stuff to study these days, and now I have a job interview at the hospital on top of it.

Good grief, God, I need sleep.

Interestingly enough, I was thinking about Him today and realizing that I've been tending toward going through the motions of relationship rather than just . . .living it . . . recently. He's working me out of it, thankfully, but I hate that it's so easy to get back into that formulaic mentality.

Sitting at the Station

2008-04-27T06:51:00.002-05:00

And the whole addiction to coffee that the rest of the world seems to have finally begins to make sense. My body is getting more and more accustomed to being up early, but the whole being awake part? Not so much. Caffeine is an amazing thing, but I really hope to keep ingestion of it to a minimum.

There have been a variety of thoughts running through my head over the past couple of weeks. A whirlwind trip up north got me thinking more about family relationships and how much things change over time. It's so weird to realize that it's been almost 2 years since Daddy died. A year ago it seemed like yesterday. Now it seems like another life.

We've entered the medical portion of EMT class. Lectures on the differences between administering and assisting with medications and what our protocols allow us to do abound. As do skills sessions in which the evaluator attempts to confuse me . . . and succeeds. Note to self: even if the station is named "medical" and the entire focal point of class for the past week has been medical scenarios, consider the possibility that your patient may be a trauma case. :-P

There's a potential job opening in a local hospital that will pay for nurse's training in addition to a regular pay check. God never ceases to amaze me with how He just provides for needs at the right time. There are times when I feel as though there's almost an excess, and times when it seems as though there's no way anything will work, but when it comes down to it, everything is taken care of.

Kinda crazy. We'll see what happens over the next couple of weeks. Between placement exams, application exams, ER rotations and class, I'm not sure how much time I'll really have to think about what's going on. But I know that it will be good :-)

2008-04-11T22:10:00.002-05:00

"I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead . . ."
~Lifehouse, "Broken"

It's too late for me to be awake and typing coherent thought. I got up and ran at 5AM today and just confirmed that I will be getting up and running at 6AM tomorrow. This song is good...Nat and I make good non-bakey pies...and now I have cool sneakers that were FREE.

That's all. :-P

Insomnia

2008-04-02T23:29:00.002-05:00

I cannot get myself to sleep. Today started before 5 AM and my body will not just SLEEP. What is wrong with me??

Maybe there's just too much in my head to get out. Ok, fine, here's what's in my head*:

EMT class is amazing. I want to do medically related work all the time. I love it. For years, I swore off the complete dedication bordering on addiction that results in having no life, and it's finally to a point where that doesn't matter any more. This stuff is AWESOME! As incredible as the level of excitement I have is . . .heh, it's not like we're actually doing anything all too wonderfully thrilling. We just went over patient assessment some more this evening, as well as a couple of specific skill sets - MAST pants and special soft tissue injuries (yay for making donut rolls out of cling! do you know which types of wounds require a moist dressing? :-P) I'm getting to know some people in my class, and one of my classmates asked me to cover for her later this month while she's gone on a business trip. Hopefully that works out, because getting some time in at different - and busier - stations would be great.

Of course, all of this comes at a cost. I don't know what is happening with my life at all right now. Hopefully I'll go to NOVA and get into the nursing program, and I really believe that'll be the smartest thing to do, long term. But at the same time? Man, I'd really just like to get into Recruit school and do Fire/Rescue (ok, so mostly just Rescue...) for the rest of however long. Part of this probably stems from being less than thrilled with my current job. No discredit to my employer is meant by this, it's just the way it is. I've had the same job for almost 4 years, and there's really nothing there to challenge me anymore . . .aside from being steadfast and patient and other good things. Which are all . . .good things. So yeah, I'm not complaining, just...yearning for further mental stimulation.

It's annoying to need to have a job that pays money. Honestly, if it weren't for my car...or the fact that I need to pay rent...or that whole insurance thing...or tuition...life would be a lot simpler.

And then there's the whole guy thing. Which really isn't all too confusing, I guess. At least, I don't THINK it is. And so, I should just not think about it, until further interaction proves me wrong, which I don't think it will. Bleh. Whatever. I just don't like feeling potentially confused.

All of this, of course, is further confused by this stupid sinus infection. I HATE my sinuses! Ok, so not really, but seriously. Every time I get truly horribly sick? It's a sinus infection. I'm on antibiotics for the first time since highschool and they're making me sick to my stomach. Yeah, so the whole pressure in my head thing is decreasing, but does it really have to occur in such a way that makes me think food must be the invention of Satan?

God's been teaching me an awful lot about love and trust lately. Of course, I always say that. Those are sort of the themes of life, as far as I can tell. But when you think about what it means to truly love those around us, it's rather intimidating. When God says everyone, He means just that. Sometimes, I can convince myself that I'm getting better at that, but when I step back and really look at the situation, it's pretty obvious that I'm not. In some ways, there has been significant growth -- I'm a lot more accepting of people being who they are and not expecting them to meet a certain set of guidelines for acceptableness as a human being. Having said that, however, actually presenting the truth and reality of my relationship with God in such a way that opens doors for further dialogue is something that needs some serious work. *sigh*

And I have amazing friends. That's enough for now. :-P

*to be taken with a grain of salt . . .or several grains. it's after midnight, after all

Unknown

2008-03-30T15:00:00.002-05:00

Heard a voice on the radio
It made me think of you
Wonder what you did today
Everything that you've been up to
Do you miss me
Do you think
I do enough of that for both of us

Heard a voice on the radio
Strong and deep and sure
You make me laugh
And that reminds me
Sometimes real love is pure
Do I miss you
Do I think
You stopped enough for both of us

Heard a voice on the radio
Maybe someday I'll hear yours

The Great Protestant American Work Ethic

2008-03-27T20:09:00.002-05:00

The USPS heralds it: neither rain, nor sleet, nor wind, nor . . .whatever. . .will keep them from getting the mail through. Hooah, oorah, and whatever other manly sounding buck up and face the storm sort of expression you can come up with, the idea of working and making it to the office regardless of the obstacles in your way is a grand American precept.

The forces of nature we are supposed to endure and slog through also contains sickness.

Nevermind the fact that, if you stay home for a day when you feel slightly gross, your body will have a chance to recoup and ward off the forces of infection assailing your valiant immune system. Go to the office! Demonstrate your commitment and fortitude to the cause of data entry and other tasks that simply would not get done without your dedicated presence at every given opportunity. While you're there, your coworkers will provide unwillingly welcome little havens for the rapidly growing family of infectiousness inhabiting your upper respiratory system.

Of course, upon infection, a reasonable person may decide to remain at home to give their courageous leukocytes a chance to build more effective defenses. This person will be simultaneously pitied and unspeakingly scorned for their weakness. Then, because said person really isn't a slacker, but a legitimately interested employee with a desire to aid their department, person will figure out a workable solution for doing some mildly irritating task from home.

Person will rejoice via text-based communication to a fellow employee and fellow employee will then inform person that some policy, somewhere, deems person not able to do said mildly irritating task from home.

Welcome to the American workforce.

Dropping Out

2008-03-22T21:55:00.002-05:00

Withdrawing. Retreating. I prefer to think of it as advancing to a more strategic location.

It's amazing how something that evokes an initial reaction of disappointment or chagrin can actually be good.

Over the past couple of weeks I've learned the reality of steps determined by God as opposed to the ones planned by me. Yesterday, I withdrew from Regent University, and I don't regret it one bit. When I think back on my time with them, it becomes rather obvious that I was grasping for security in the here and now and my own understanding, rather than trusting that God did indeed have the master plan.

It takes me a while to learn these things. PHC was the same way at times.

Anyway, I'm no longer a student, and by all initial external appearances, there's nowhere for me to go.

But that's not the reality of it.

Never before in my life have I really felt as though I'm living confidently in faith. Sure, I've had moments of clarity, but these past few days have just been SO amazing! I want to write down every moment and capture it to look back on someday when it doesn't seem really possible, but in order to live it out, I can't stop and reflect for as long as that would take.

As sudden and seemingly random as all of the changes in my life as of late seem to be, I should be freaking out. But I'm not. At all. In a way, dropping out of school is kinda like an eaglet getting dropped out of nest . . . and discovering what it means to fly.

Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. ~Hebrews 4:16

[nursing school, here i come!]

Great Expectations

2008-03-20T00:00:00.002-05:00

Somewhere along the line, I gave up expecting anything.

Anything, that is, save disappointment.

The realist in me requires some sort of disclaimer: disappointment is part of life.
The cynic says that's all there is to it.
The optimist says "disappointment means you hope!"

And the rest of me is sick of labels and analyzing and just wants to be me.

Basically, God's been teaching me to expect Him. I spent so much time constructing this model of how I think that life should work. And as I live, it becomes increasingly apparent that my plans aren't necessarily the ones that He has for me. From college to career to the confuddlement of relationships, nothing is as I thought it would be.

But it's good.

Huh?

2008-03-15T09:55:00.002-05:00

So I've crossed that invisible line that I avoided thinking about for so long.

Last week, I went on a date.

It was fun.

It was also weird. I don't date. Come on; I'm...me. Me doesn't go out with some random guy who just decides that he possibly likes me. This is completely foreign. I've heard of people doing things like this, but God, I'm finally in a place where I like my life. It's not bad. Seriously. You let me do what I want, when I want, and I like it that way. Men just complicate this really nice arrangement we've got going, and I don't want any complications. The last few years have been plenty complicated and I'm ready for quiet simplicity.

I think I need to change my expectations.

Comforting Challenge

2007-12-18T00:40:00.000-05:00

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." ~Phil. 4:4-7

Most of the time, when I reference that passage, I focus on the latter two verses - don't worry, tell God, you'll receive peace. Quite frankly, doing that is difficult enough. But tonight I had a sense that I should check out the preceding verses. And I was blown away by how much a heart can forget.

Rejoice in the Lord always.

Always? God, seriously now, I know what You mean when You say "always" and . . . no offense, but I think maybe there's been something lost in translation here. You can't seriously mean always. I know, "blessed be Your name, on the road marked with suffering . . . You give and take away . . ." all that. Sure. I sing it, I even believe I mean it most of the time. But . . . rejoice? With an exclamation point?! That really, really doesn't make much sense. Or come very easily, I'll have You know.

Psh. And THEN there's verse five. "Let your gentleness be evident to all." HAHAHAHA! WhatEVER, Lord.

*cough* somehow, "whatever" and "Lord" don't seem to fit well together in sentence form. At least not with that inflection. Sorry about that.

But . . .God?? What do You seriously mean by that? Gentleness implies some sort of . . .sweet innocent caring spirit. You do realize that living a "gentle" life in this world is akin to crossing an interstate, blindfolded, on foot, in the dark, wearing black, right? Gentle people don't survive, Lord. They don't stand a chance. And quite frankly, I am sick of being shredded at every crossroad. I'm sick of trying to be gentle. I'm sick of having to retrain myself to be gentle. I'm sick of giving You everything, only to end up hurting, realize I tried to do it on my own and then have to go through the entire thing all over again.

I don't want to feel beautiful, Abba. I want to be beautiful. I don't want to fight against myself and try to quiet my own heart. There are enough externals trying to mess up everything, I don't need to add to the fury.

Why is it that I can know so incredibly clearly what I DON'T want and simultaneously have practically NO IDEA what it is that I DO what?

And, Abba, why do I want You . . . only to find that I am terrified to live what that truly means?

Randomness and the thoughts that go with it

2007-12-16T23:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I flew home. The flight was fairly uneventful...I was in the middle seat between a sweet old asian lady going to Mississippi and a deaf girl meeting her family here in the north.

Of course, I was flying on about 2 hours of sleep, so I slept on the plane. Thank You, God, for iPods and sound proof headphones. Eesh. Upon arriving at MSP, I was reminded with painful clarity why checking luggage is a bad idea. It adds significant time to your departure from the world of harried travelers. Especially in Minneapolis. Minneapolis is the only airport I know of where luggage gets delayed because the little tram things "take a wrong turn" between the plane and the terminal . . . I checked my bag for the convenience of not having to worry about "gels, liquids or aerosols" Heh. The hassle at security may be worth it. I'm not sure what I'll do for the trip back in two weeks.

Thus far, my journeys have already opened windows of opportunity for good conversations with my family and friends. Warren, Abe and I talked last night (yeah, I was so tired that I couldn't sleep. Hate that . . .) And then Annie and I were able to talk a bit on the way into town and back after retrieving pizza this afternoon :-) There is definitely something to be said for being home. Even if I am still sleeping on the couch. Oh well. It's a comfy couch.

I want to learn to play guitar in the worst way. But I feel completely inept. Argh. If I do end up moving home, music is something I will be dedicating significant effort to, that's for sure. Family, music and saving money. Sounds like a plan to me.

There were thoughts of actual sort of consequence that I was going to write about, but for some reason, writing isn't coming to me yet. I think I'm still too soul-weary. Maybe later...

Awesome.

2007-12-14T01:02:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I was paid one of the highest compliments of my life.

A guy I respect as a brother thanked me almost profusely and said I was awesome.

Let it be known heretoforthwith that sometimes. . . sometimes it really does pay off.

Thanks, God. :-)

2007-12-12T17:16:00.000-05:00

How many kings stepped down from their thrones?
How many lords have abandoned their homes?
How many greats have become the least for me?
How many gods have poured out their hearts to romance a world that is torn all apart?
How many fathers gave up their sons for me?

Only one.
~How Many Kings, downhere

Amazing, how I've been struggling against cynical scroogey thoughts recently. . . it just takes a little perspective. I'm not going to all of a sudden decide to send out scads of Christmas cards to everyone who's said more than "hi" in my life. And I'm not about to go spend money I don't have on awesome presents for my friends and family. I'm not even going to say that I'm feeling miraculously happy when, quite honestly, I'm fighting depression awfully hard right now.

But I will say that God is good. Because He is. And I will keep praying for a heart that is open to His leading and life that is lived for His purpose.

Disappointed

2007-12-04T14:42:00.000-05:00

I am disappointed. Supposedly that means that I was hoping. Maybe I'm still hoping? I don't know, really. Mostly, I feel confused.

It's so weird to realize that you know someone so incredibly well as to know that they WOULD do something, but then think that they've grown and matured past a point where that becomes acceptable . . . . only to blink and see them do something nearly inexplicable.

Maybe I should market myself for my insane skillz. Got a position that needs filling? Hire me to be simply interested in it and it will no longer need filling. Guy looking for a girlfriend? Flirt with me a bit to get me interested and then she'll come along.

:-P I'm really not as cynical as this sounds. Abba's teaching me so many things. I just need to get my thoughts out.

Time to stop blogging and start journaling, I guess.

If it wasn't this. . .

2007-11-28T09:38:00.000-05:00

Flat on the interstate.

In the dark.

With sleet.

And a wrench that doesn't fit because of funky after market rims.

Thank You, God, for AAA.

Thank You, God, that there was someone at the Wal-Mart tire counter after they closed.

Thank You, God, for protecting all people persons when I crashed into the pole.

Thank You, God, that my property was the only property damaged when I crashed.

Thank You, God, for a friend with friends in the area, a sister who could get online and get phone numbers for me and members of Your body willing to stay up late and open their home to me.

Thank You, Abba, for a man who doesn't know me, but was willing to work on my crunched car without charging a cent.

....Thank You for love.

Is this what healing looks like?

2007-07-13T11:52:00.001-05:00

Faith, hope and love can’t be killed, but they sure can be paralyzed.

The question is . . .what to do with that realization? How does a cynic regain innocence and trust? It’s easy enough to dismiss the “romance is for sissies” mentality when you compartmentalize your heart and mind, but when you step back and see the big picture affected, you have to wonder. How did the undertone of distrust in your sarcastic humor become the foundation for an entire worldview? And WHY is it so hard to truly believe and feel the awesomeness of God and His love.

Yeah, love. That from-your-toes-to-your-head ecstatic-in-your-very-soul knowing that you are known. Not perceived. Not remembered. Known. Actively, eternally, truly, known. More than any man can know a woman, more than the people who are so familiar you can’t remember when you met them. It’s all well and good to say “Jesus loves you!” But it’s become so clichéd that we forget what that means. Jesus knows me.

….how I wish I knew Him more.

It’s amazing how that works. The truth of “We loved Him because He first loved us” becomes more and more understandable as I get older. When someone spends so much time and effort in getting to know you, you cannot help but want them back. It may start as a sort of obligation, but come on. He died, went through Hell and came back, JUST to love us. To know us. That’s worth a little more than five minutes of groggy “Hey God, please give me a good day, amen” every other day or so. It’s worth more than singing with arms outstretched in a group of other people singing with their arms outstretched. And it’s certainly worth more than a “pshh. Yeah, I get it” nonattitude.

I’ll never fully understand the insanity of His love, but I’m [re]learning that seeking Him is far more satisfying than trying to figure out what I keep calling my life.

Forget?

2007-06-26T09:57:00.000-05:00

Does forgiveness mean having to go back to "normal"?

ICE

2007-06-21T08:24:00.000-05:00

In Case of Emergency.

They tell people to save an entry in their cell phone's speed-dial with that name: ICE. I tried to do that once, but I was going to put in my family's phone number back in Minnesota and it wouldn't let me save the same number in two entries. I decided to leave the number saved - complete with special ringtone - under "Homies." If I was unconscious and they couldn't figure out who to call, my recent contacts should reveal a decent amount of action with that number, and if it didn't, there would be someone on the list who had the number.

That's different now.

I got a new phone in January, so my special ringtone is gone, and the entry with that number now just reads "Home" - without any sort of warmth that word used to inspire. It may as well read "blue house in central Minnesota" any conversation worth noting happens via cell phone with my siblings now. The house that I grew up in is a shell.

Sometimes I think that the world is just full of shells, and all the people are hermit crabs, trying to find one to fit in that they like. We like to ooh and ah at the pretty ones, the unique ones, the hardy ones, but in the end, it's just a bunch of funny looking, mostly naked crustacean bug-like critters running around trying to find a safe place to hide.

When a hermit crab's shell is shattered, what happens to it?

I think it sits still, blinking at the sun, wondering who to put down on all of the paperwork for that "should be obvious, but really isn't anymore" In Case of Emergency, Contact:... space.

From the Ashen Archives

2007-05-25T08:50:00.000-05:00

I’m not uncertain anymore.
I know just what I want
I want what I can't seem to see
I want the gift He bought

No, I am not uncertain anymore
I know there’s more than this
I just wish that I could make you see
And in doing that, convince myself

Sometimes it feels so selfish
This pleading of my heart
A long tormented gnashing
The rift reality starts

Make me beautiful again
You know I yearn to be

Make me beautiful again
Let my eyes wake up and see

Make me beautiful again
For life has lost its spark

Make me beautiful again
Put a song back in my heart

Make me beautiful again
I’m begging, crying, please

Make me beautiful again
Know my soul for me

Ball and Chain...

2007-03-22T23:40:00.000-05:00

...Forever.

That's how my brother expressed his sentiments to my chatter about the incessantness of wedding plans.

While I've laughed off the "ball and chain" quote before, and still believe it's not the reality of marriage, I found myself agreeing with him to an extent. It's something I simply cannot comprehend. I can remember loving and all of the emotion that went with it, but I can't comprehend it, or imagine ever loving again. And I don't mean in the classic "I will never love again, for I have had my one true love" sense. I just . . . .don't think there's anything left in my heart to love.

Not that I feel dead inside, even though, to a degree, I do. It's like a forest fire ripped through my very core over this past year. The combination of everything has me wishing I could swear off trusting anyone ever again. If I don't want to deal with my own mother, what makes me think I could love anyone?

Haaaaa. *sigh* I should go to bed. I'm exhausted. What's it like to not be exhausted?

Freedom

2007-03-14T22:40:00.000-05:00

An eagle, wounded after falling during her first attempt at flying, sat in cage. Perhaps “sat” is not the right word, but “perched” does not fit the situation either. For reasons too various to quantify, eagles do not belong in cages, and so it is really impossible to describe what the noble bird was doing. “Sat” seems to fit, though, because it indicates a sort of slump, when used in reference to eagles.

While the eagle sat, her heart was in tumult. At first from the pain of injury, but after that faded, the realization that she was caged. It bears repeating that eagles do not belong in cages. The eagle knew this in her heart of hearts, and so she was deeply troubled to find herself, well, caged.

The eagle sat in the cage for what felt like an eternity, and all the while, the storm within her raged. Her feathers molted, she matured and changed in appearance, but if you looked closely, you could see that she was not a true eagle. Eagles do not belong in cages. But this eagle was caged. In fact, she was caged for so long that she began to forget what it was to be free. No matter what she forgot, her heart always remembered: she was an eagle. And eagles do not belong in cages.

One day, the eagle’s heart nearly burst with the importance of what it knew.

“Get OUT!” it cried from within her. “Get out and FLY the way you’re meant to!”

Something within the eagle snapped, and though she could not have explained why (eagles rarely explain anything) she decided to fight. The talons which had never been used clawed at the bars surrounding her and the wings that barely knew what it was to stretch explored their reach by beating the enclosure until it broke. As the cage fell away, the eagle found herself slowly rising into the air. When she realized that she was flying and finally in her rightful home – the sky – a screeching cry erupted from her heart. The echo reply made her take notice of her new surroundings, and the immensity of sky overwhelmed her for a moment. Then a warm air current found its home beneath her wings and bore her even higher and she knew: she was made for this. She would never sit in a cage again.

I'll Know When I Get There

2007-03-10T11:24:00.000-05:00

I'll know when I get there
I don't know if it's worth it
And I don't know if I'm good enough
All I know is I'm giving it all I've got
And I'll know when I get there

It's hard to tell just where you're at
When you're looking for somethin' that ain't on a map
I've just gotta believe it's down that road somewhere
And I'll know when I get there...

~Keith Anderson, I'll Know When I Get There

I am Tired. (yes, with a capital T)

2007-01-12T17:43:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I am tired. I am tired of missing Dad and tired of fighting with Mom. I am tired of struggling to do the right thing; tired of wondering what the right thing is. Tired of seeing people's fear and pride rule them; even more tired of my own. Tired of not being truly happy for more than a few moments until I remember. Tired of getting mad at myself for remembering. Tired of trying to forget.

I would say that I'm tired of seeking God, but I don't think that's quite it. I'm tired of the fact that it's such a struggle to seek Him. I'm tired of trying. Tired of pleasing. Tired of politically correct. Tired of being slightly unconventional for unconventiality's sake. Tired of expectations and the lack of them. Tired of whining.

I'm tired of me. My selfishness and the rut I seem to exist in.

I'm tired of thinking. And I'm tired of trying to explain it.

Cliched Language of Love

2006-12-21T01:30:00.000-05:00

I come upon discoveries in the middle of the night.

Maybe it's the stillness of night, or the fact that talking with friends over IM just necessitates better word skills than I require of myself throughout a day of mindless work that brings out the clarity of thought that makes itself known. Or perhaps it's simply the fact that I still play silly little kid and hate to go to bed, so I come up with excuses. Whatever the case, I think better at night, and when I have the presence of mind to write down what I think, the results are often better than anything written during normal daylight hours when practicality reigns.

So it should come as no surprise when I find myself better able to express how this whole grief process feels at night. It happened tonight as I was talking with Natalie:

Nat: you've said before how it doesn't seem real still
me: yeah, I'm wondering when it's going to
Nat: does it when you're missing him?
me: sort of?
me: I don't know. it's all just so stinking weird
me: like, when I was telling people that my dad died back in May, I felt like I was lying
me: and that hasn't really gone away
me: it feels like a random plot twist in a book I'm reading
me: not really real, but shocking nonetheless
Nat: wow
me: and that's the first time I've expressed it right
me: cuz that's exactly how it feels
Nat: hmm
Nat: so maybe
Nat: instead of what everyone thinks or says about grief
Nat: maybe being able to express how it feels is a big deal.
me: for me, anyway :-P
me: I don't know
me: it's a mess
Nat: I don't know, that seems like it's fairly significant, especially with how much you express things through writing
me: mhmm

That conversation led to talking about how writing itself is overused and thus despecialized in the culture we've been dunked into (ie: homeschoolers turned leaders not so anonymous, or HSTLNSA) and the fact that making writing and words and the like so commonplace, it's almost as though a language - a love language - has been prostituted and turned to profanity. Unfortunately, there are limits on even late night thought, so that conversation didn't flesh out quite as much as I would have liked. I guess there's always tomorrow morning...er, night.

These are the sorts of things that I can express in the dead of night when I should be asleep. Just why I can't seem to get them out when I'm actually awake, I have no idea. Hopefully this will change, because, in all honesty, staying up late just so I can think is getting to be a bit old. I think all day long, just never get the chance to show anything for it.

And on that happy note, I am signing off and heading to bed.

Fairytaled Reality

2006-11-30T12:58:00.000-05:00

When Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy was put on the big screen, fandom erupted across the world. The epic tale speaks to the hearts of millions upon millions of people, and the special effects aren't too shabby, either.

In the midst of the frenzied rush for capes and elven decor, fansites exploded across the internet. It's amazing what you can do with a little bit of time and photoshop; especially when the root material is good to begin with. People take this stuff seriously. There are stories and chatrooms and icons and all sorts of things that make me wonder if the person on the other side of the internet realizes that reality exists. But there is another part of me that wishes I had the ability to express my heart like that.....

Ever since I was first acquainted with Eowyn's character in LotR, I have felt a sort of...connected understanding, for lack of a better term...to/for her.

Eowyn literally means "horse joy." But before I knew that, I loved the fact that there was a female character in a movie that wasn't lambasted or stupidly glorified for her desire to fight beside her brother. The whole response to the "what do you fear" question gave me goosebumps the first time I heard it, and it does to this day.
"A cage. To live behind bars until use and old age accept them, and all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."

My friends who have held a conversation of any length about what moves my heart in its deepest part probably see why that rings true to me. But it goes beyond that, to the fact that Eowyn loved a man she could not have. She was not meant to have him, and even when I watched the movies, I found myself wishing that she could. In some ways, I still think that she and Aragorn make a better pair than Aragorn and Arwen. When I did some research on the whole relationship, I found that Tolkien originally meant for Eowyn and Aragorn to be married. Unfortunately, that would have ruined the whole Arwen aspect. Tolkien thought of killing Eowyn in the great battle, but [fortunately] decided against it. The resulting "houses of healing" section is another part that gives a glimpse into Eowyn's character that I totally relate to:

Gandalf: Great gladness it is to see you wake again to health and hope, so valiant a lady!
Eowyn: To health? It may be so. At least while there is an empty saddle of some fallen Rider that I can fill, and there are deeds to do. But to hope? I do not know.

And there are things like the fact that her left arm was injured, and her horse was gray, and her hair is blonde....

And then there's Theoden. While he's not Eowyn's biological father, he plays the role of father in her life, and she sees him when the enemy has talons so deeply entrenched that Theoden is quite out of his mind. Yet, even when things are darkest for her, personally, she loves and is faithful. (the fact that Theoden is so weakened is one reason she is so strongly attracted to Aragorn...) When Theoden is released from the darkness, the love that he has for Eowyn is made very evident and he tells her that he "would see [her] smile again....no more despair" When he falls on the field of battle and dies in Eowyn's arms, he has no regrets.

I am failing miserably at expressing everything right now, but I thought it would be worth getting out of my head so I can possibly refine it later. . . . . .

God with Skin On

2006-11-12T02:35:00.000-05:00

When I was growing up, our pastor would use the phrase "God with skin on" on a fairly frequent basis. It stemmed from an anecdote he told about a little kid who was scared of something (I don't remember if it was monsters or a storm or what). The child's father would come in and say "Oh, it's ok, God is with us all the time, He's protecting us," and the kid honestly shot back with, "I know! But I want God with skin on!!" The congregation would chuckle appropriately whenever this story was told, but recently, I've been thinking about it a bit more.

I'm not sure when I really figured out that I wanted God with skin on. I guess part of me has always known that, but there have been times when I really really wanted someone, anyone, to just hold me and tell me that everything is going to be ok. The first time that I consciously realized that there was not anyone to actually hold me was under a pine tree in mid-December. Some friends and I went for a moonlit walk in the snow, and after they went inside, I stayed out to look at the crisp winter sky. I was acutely aware of how much I missed: home, my exboyfriend, attending classes full time...the list went on. And all I wanted was a pair of strong arms and a soft voice. Just hold me and tell me it will be ok. Wrap your arms around me until I drift into that blissful netherworld of sleep. But there were no arms, and there was no voice. The yearning in me heart had to be silenced...or at least ignored.

The practical side of me settled for "ignore" and I got busy with Stuff again. Besides, I was going home for Christmas in a few weeks, and Daddy was always willing to oblige with hugs. I could cuddle up next to him while watching TV at night, or go into his office in the middle of the day just to say "I love you" and I didn't have to worry about him thinking I was pretty enough or anything. He just loved me. Anytime I needed a pair of strong arms, he was there.

But now, two years later, Daddy's dead. And the old yearning is tugging in me again. It's harder to quash some nights. The air is cold and loneliness seeps into even group activity. I feel distanced from those around me. I don't want to. I don't try to stand apart. I just feel . . . part of another life. I've always felt this way. It's as if everyone around me is living life, and I'm watching. Why?

Why can I not find the total completeness that I know exists in Christ? Why can I not content myself with Him fully? What am I doing so wrong that causes this ache within my very core? I despise my physicality and the fact that I want to worship something tangible. I am bereaved at my foolishness, and long for simple fellowship.

On some level, I know that I hope for and believe that completeness is possible and indeed forthcoming. Yet, on a more shallow plane, I feel utterly lost. These are the thoughts that really keep me awake. Not the lists of things that I should do or want to do or might do someday; just what is it that God has planned for me, and why can't I seem to be content with that the way I know I should be?

Happiness

2006-11-04T19:59:00.000-05:00

I hate happiness. It is nothing more than a shadow shield for idiotic giddiness that does not last.

Perhaps I'm being a bit too strong in my wording, but I am exceedingly aggravated with certain person right now who can seem to declare nothing more than "I AM SO HAPPY" while those around said person are struggling in major ways that are, apparently, ununderstandable.

Grrr.

It's not that I don't like being happy. It's not even that I don't like other people being happy. Quite the contrary, I find happiness quite enjoyable, and follow the biblical mandate of "rejoice with those who rejoice" whenever I can. But when happiness is being claimed at the cost of general welfare and Right, I cannot and will not join in the goofy grins and sproingy silliness.

I cut that paragraph short because it doesn't really have to say much more of anything, and it got me thinking on a commonly stated fact: joy and happiness are different things. Rejoice with those who rejoice is more of a direction to share in joy, not happiness. Joy is a fruit of the spirit, and altogether good. It is found in any circumstance, because it's part of faith. Happiness is fleeting. It comes, and then it goes.

It is because of this, and the fact that I am SICK SICK SICK of hearing "I'm so happy" when it is quite apparent that the rest of us are miserable and sick to our stomachs, that I am outlawing happiness.

Thank you, you may return to your previously scheduled existence.

Phenomena

2006-09-30T15:49:00.000-05:00

I have stumbled across a strange phenomena in the realm of relationships.

Men are looking for friendship. Faithful friendship that demands nothing else and is there no matter what. And they want it from women. They aren't looking for a mother; they have a mother already. They aren't looking for a girlfriend; even though they maybe perhaps are. They want a female friend who will talk with them, listen to them, not say a blasted thing....but just be there.

SO WHY DO THEY HAVE TO PICK ME AS THE WOMAN TO BE THEIR FRIEND AND NOTHING MORE?!!?!

Ugh.