i REALLY have nothing to write about which kinda makes me want to mindlessly type out a blog.... and see for myself what's really on this mind...
i had a dream the other night that i guy i knew in high school had a baby boy that died. and then i told another guy in high school about it.... "hey, did you hear? his kid died.." weird. and to that i wake up thinking, i should tell that dreamed father/friend of mine that he should refrain til he's hitched. he might have a son. and then that son might die. amongst other complications.
it's my birthday on saturday. it's also my stinkin awesome friend, Brittany's wedding day. i told her she could sing me happy birthday from the altar. it's really no big deal and it'd be perfectly acceptable and, i think, fitting. i'll probably send them a 'HAPPY ANNIVERSARY' card for the rest of my life...being as how i'll remember it every time it rolls around and all.
i've realized that fuss stresses me out. and sometimes i'm crazy and out of my head so it makes me wonder why iiiiii get stressed out when others appear to be a little less calm than i feel. i don't really know. i think that in my head i use myself as a standard to gauge who's calm and who's flighty. if I'M feeling really chill then someone who tells me to hurry or "QUICK! VACUUM!" or explains to me that they just can't handle something that seems relatively simple to handle in MY current zen-y state.... then, i dub them Flighty. but, you see, if I'M the one who's freaking out over something and i look around and see CHILL people all around me then i'll most likely be irritated with them and everything else in life because THEY aren't feeling the same way i am. as if everyone should feel the exact way that i do all the time.. i don't actually think that... but... i think i think that anyway... i mean, really.
i have driving habits:
1) i can't stand driving behind other vehicles. i'd rather speed for a long time in order to pass them and get ahead of them a ways and THEN slow to normal speed.
2) seven miles over the set speed limit is my usual.
3) i don't usually listen to music or anything while driving. sometimes i do... having constant noise for over twenty minutes tends to stress me out. i also think silence is FAR underrated. i like hearing myself think. sometimes i don't like what i think about. then, i turn music back on... and then i get stressed by the noise and most likely overplayed tune. and then i'll crave silence. and think. and cycle continues..
4) i always speed up to try and run a yellow light. unless it's just impossible.. then, i'm reasonable. i'll stop for cross-traffic.
5) i like my windows down almost all the time. my car doesn't have air conditioning. and then the words 'air conditioning' make me think there's an 'air shampoo' somewhere out there. conditioner...shampoo..body wash... why don't they just call it an air cooler...or something. nevermind. i don't actually think i'm making a valid point.
i have a stack of 'summer reading' books that i have subconsciously admitted to myself that i will never read. probably ever.
i appreciate when people look bad. physically. cuz ya know there are those people who say, "ohmygosh, i look like such a slob today." and then you look them up and down and think how awesome they look and how you wish you could look that good on your bad days but not really because you KNOW she spent a good amount of time matching her sweats before she put them on and is REALLY probably just fishing for compliments... which you, then, tactfully decide NOT to give her. evil laugh. stickin it to the man. WOman. whatever. but, anyway, i like it when people can really just look BAD. like, not even look like THEMSELVES kinda bad. like, hit by a truck messy hair that just looks gross and zits in awkward places that seem to make a constellation you saw once in the night sky... THAT KIND OF BAD. where their outfits look terrible and not even the slightest bit cool or "funky style" looking... just bad. i like the community of people that look that way in front of each other every now and then. but, still. i AM an advocate for looking good. decent. kind of. yes. decent. i suppose.
i had another dream that the wolf escaped from her pen. i work at a nature center. our goal is to keep the wolf INside her pen. even if she is strangely domesticated and friendly to all those holding bacon...
mom made turkey burgers and macaroni tonight. i liked it. a lot.
i'm still a leach when it comes to hovering over what dad's doing. and i don't care if i'm annoying. i am GOING to help him change the oil in the tegeler vehicles whether he likes it or not. and i will make jokes when he's at his pinnacle of irritation so as to send him over the edge. then he'll hit me over the head, side-swipe-wise, and i'll laugh a whole lot. he'll laugh, too. in an 'oh my word, micah, you're so annoying' kind of way. which is my role in life. i love it.
peanut, the dog, thinks she can pee on surfaces other than the grass. she's got another thing comin, i tell ya.
to celebrity magazine authors that gab about people with "OH MY GOSH! CELLULITE!" ...to you i say: get a life. YOU have cellulite and you know it. it means you're normal. people with meat on their bones look GOOD. BEAUTIFUL, might i add. so when she drops a couple dress sizes don't applaud. if she looks good, then fine. but who cares. two minutes later you're gonna be asking her fans to beg her to get to a doctor. she's too thin. for crying out loud, when she was healthy you said she had cellulite. do everyone a favor--slightly or majorly insecure readers who dare to compare THEMSELVES to your ridiculous standards INCLUDED-- and back. off. i feel mother bear awakening inside of me.
that's all. all ramblings are over.
i've eaten way to much gorp while writing this. gorp=m&ms, peanuts, raisins mixed together. period. s'all ya need.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
merlin.
i wonder if merlin wanted to be young again. if he had the option if he'd go back and farm his fields again. if he'd take another shot at taming his never-fail demonic kittens. if he'd give me another blanket or tell me not to drive after dark. he was on the verge of unresponsive when i told him i was driving out to orange city tonight... his face scrunched up (he must've known what time it was) and he whispered "noooo"... and from there i will replay--from memory--what merlin woulda said after that.. had he felt better...and it's from memory because i heard the shpeal every time i left for orange city. usually at an odd time of day.
"i don't want you drivin after dark. ya get tired and ya can't see straight. then ya start drivin like the devil was chasin ya and..."
this isn't actually from memory.. but it's similar to what he woulda told me. i'd call him on my way home to talk for a while.. kill some time on that five hour trek. he'd say "are you drivin?" and i'd confirm.. and then he'd say, "girl, i don't like you drivin after dark.." and then i'd ASSUUUURRREE him that i'd pay close attention and i wouldn't drive like the devil was chasin me and i'd keep my eyes peeled for deer and i'd get home safe.. and then i'd pray, "lord, get me home safe.." and then we'd talk for a five minute maximum that i never could get him to talk past. and we'd hang up. he'd see me when i got home.
he gave me a wool blanket with cool fringes one time. i've slept with it just about every night since i left for northwestern three years ago. that's pretty much when me and merlin started being friends. i graduated early from high school and worked full-time at the care center in elkader. he always had bingo on mondays...or wednesdays.. i never can remember.. i never COULD remember (which caused problems..).. bingo was right after lunch.. i'd clean off tables as fast as i could and merlin, instead of waiting around and watching the process, would help me stack plates as high as possible ('possible' entailed how high they could be stacked before gravity won out or how high they could be stacked and still allow for the cart they were sitting on to be moved and navigated around the dining room without toppling over.....which happened to me once. it caused problems..)... merlin and i would talk small talk.. actually, merlin would do most the talking. which, later i gathered, was most often the case in all dimensions of life with merlin. one day i was ranting to merlin about how i was going through WITHDRAWAL! we didn't have any kitties that year. NO BABY KITTIES. he told me he had some. AND that he'd like to get rid of some.
i throw my hands up in the air sometimes. and it's usually when i wave frantically in a 'PICK ME' fashion when i'm volunteering to make my house a home for baby kitties. merlin's baby kitties, in this case.
so, i followed merlin's white ford truck out to his farm one day. i felt kinda shady. i didn't really know this old man and i was following him to his farm out in the country and SOMETHING in my upbringing was red flagging and telling me that this could POSSIBLY not be a good idea. but... i risked it. i prayed jesus would keep me safe. and i drove.
kind of ironic in relation to the prayer i prayed to jesus in that last paragraph is this next part: we ended naming the two kitties Spit and Spat the demon cats. why? BECAUSE WE KEPT THEM IN QUARANTINE FOR ALMOST A WEEEEK IN THE SHOWER WAITING FOR THEM TO CAALLLMMMM DOWN.. (it's a nice technique. most wild cats love it. and then they waltz outta the shower a couple days later changed cats smelling slightly of herbal essences.) anyway. these kittens were different. they were possessed. not really. but, i mean, REALLY--we don't know what got into these kitties the day they were born.. but now i realize how merlin got that scratch on his pinky finger when he wrangled them into their wire pet carrier.
anyway.. that was how merlin and i became friends. then he started coming to all my birthday parties. and he'd come boating with us at the ambro. and we'd eat ice cream. actually, i'd mow half his lawn and then we'd have ice cream and talk for an hour... and THEN i'd finish mowing his lawn because otherwise, i told him, my mom and dad were gonna wonder what happened to me. he'd agree and then offer me a cookie.
i broke into his house once. i told him i did and then told him to check his freezer for evidence. i left him a note in his freezer accompanied by a selection of blue bunny ice cream (payback for the oodles of frozen stuff i'd eaten of his)... merlin felt a lot of things. he missed his wife and knew to the day what day she passed, what day she wasn't herself anymore, what day he took her to the care center, what day they were married, what day they met, the day he left her to serve in the army....and every day in between it was (so richly and thoroughly) implied that he loved her.
and everybody loved him. well, who knows, i guess. but iiii love him. and i love that blanket he gave me. and the teddy bear. bearS.
s'all i got for now.
"i don't want you drivin after dark. ya get tired and ya can't see straight. then ya start drivin like the devil was chasin ya and..."
this isn't actually from memory.. but it's similar to what he woulda told me. i'd call him on my way home to talk for a while.. kill some time on that five hour trek. he'd say "are you drivin?" and i'd confirm.. and then he'd say, "girl, i don't like you drivin after dark.." and then i'd ASSUUUURRREE him that i'd pay close attention and i wouldn't drive like the devil was chasin me and i'd keep my eyes peeled for deer and i'd get home safe.. and then i'd pray, "lord, get me home safe.." and then we'd talk for a five minute maximum that i never could get him to talk past. and we'd hang up. he'd see me when i got home.
he gave me a wool blanket with cool fringes one time. i've slept with it just about every night since i left for northwestern three years ago. that's pretty much when me and merlin started being friends. i graduated early from high school and worked full-time at the care center in elkader. he always had bingo on mondays...or wednesdays.. i never can remember.. i never COULD remember (which caused problems..).. bingo was right after lunch.. i'd clean off tables as fast as i could and merlin, instead of waiting around and watching the process, would help me stack plates as high as possible ('possible' entailed how high they could be stacked before gravity won out or how high they could be stacked and still allow for the cart they were sitting on to be moved and navigated around the dining room without toppling over.....which happened to me once. it caused problems..)... merlin and i would talk small talk.. actually, merlin would do most the talking. which, later i gathered, was most often the case in all dimensions of life with merlin. one day i was ranting to merlin about how i was going through WITHDRAWAL! we didn't have any kitties that year. NO BABY KITTIES. he told me he had some. AND that he'd like to get rid of some.
i throw my hands up in the air sometimes. and it's usually when i wave frantically in a 'PICK ME' fashion when i'm volunteering to make my house a home for baby kitties. merlin's baby kitties, in this case.
so, i followed merlin's white ford truck out to his farm one day. i felt kinda shady. i didn't really know this old man and i was following him to his farm out in the country and SOMETHING in my upbringing was red flagging and telling me that this could POSSIBLY not be a good idea. but... i risked it. i prayed jesus would keep me safe. and i drove.
kind of ironic in relation to the prayer i prayed to jesus in that last paragraph is this next part: we ended naming the two kitties Spit and Spat the demon cats. why? BECAUSE WE KEPT THEM IN QUARANTINE FOR ALMOST A WEEEEK IN THE SHOWER WAITING FOR THEM TO CAALLLMMMM DOWN.. (it's a nice technique. most wild cats love it. and then they waltz outta the shower a couple days later changed cats smelling slightly of herbal essences.) anyway. these kittens were different. they were possessed. not really. but, i mean, REALLY--we don't know what got into these kitties the day they were born.. but now i realize how merlin got that scratch on his pinky finger when he wrangled them into their wire pet carrier.
anyway.. that was how merlin and i became friends. then he started coming to all my birthday parties. and he'd come boating with us at the ambro. and we'd eat ice cream. actually, i'd mow half his lawn and then we'd have ice cream and talk for an hour... and THEN i'd finish mowing his lawn because otherwise, i told him, my mom and dad were gonna wonder what happened to me. he'd agree and then offer me a cookie.
i broke into his house once. i told him i did and then told him to check his freezer for evidence. i left him a note in his freezer accompanied by a selection of blue bunny ice cream (payback for the oodles of frozen stuff i'd eaten of his)... merlin felt a lot of things. he missed his wife and knew to the day what day she passed, what day she wasn't herself anymore, what day he took her to the care center, what day they were married, what day they met, the day he left her to serve in the army....and every day in between it was (so richly and thoroughly) implied that he loved her.
and everybody loved him. well, who knows, i guess. but iiii love him. and i love that blanket he gave me. and the teddy bear. bearS.
s'all i got for now.
Monday, May 9, 2011
i don't know why i keep posting these.
reasons why i doubt god's goodness:
bad diagnosis after bad diagnosis
medication after medication
fail after fail
good choices yeilding no seen results
hard choices yeilding no seen results
sickness after sickness
i don't trust him.
i don't know if i love him.
i'm having a hard time seeing the point in obeying him.
i feel betrayed by him.
i feel left by him.
i'm sick of the 'mystery' of faith. i'm not interested! cut the crap. be real or don't be.
there's a war for my worship going on. it's no mystery to me. it's not something shadowy or foggy that is made perfectly clear once someone sheds light on it. i KNOW it's there. i've KNOWN it's there. i know satan wants me and i know god wants me..but it all feels so anticlimactic. i feel like i see satan sitting at my mental kitchen table or something. just a businessman making an offer. and nothing. i kinda feel like jesus wants me but couldn't make the meeting. he sends a note with a secretary who runs into my kitchen panting and hoping that the note hand-signed by the lord will hold me over. keep me from making a brash decision. and i don't feel an urgency to join a side. but i do feel tired. i do know lies when they enter my head but i've no urgency to crush them. i know i need to read my bible but i've no care to uncover it in the crap of my just-moved-in-ness. and i feel like this: (in the most positive way possible) i feel like i could be like an orc off of lord of the rings... down in the hot, sweaty pit where the orcs pop out of the ground. fierce and ready to kill the instant they get that imprisoning slime off their bodies. i feel like i COULD make the choice to pop out and kill the enemy and say "hey SATAN. THINK FAST! i'm fighting this one. now WATCH ME read my bible." and i'm good with that. like, i'll read my bible before i go to bed. but with the attitude of 'for some reason i'm doing this... but there's nothing in here that'll help me.'
there's a war for my worship.
i am head deep in the snares of the devil. his ploys, his speeches, his business cards, his customer service. i got it. i've heard it. and it's because i've agreed with him. when a bad diagnosis hits my family, sure, i might hear god's tears falling but what help does that DO me? why doesn't god HEAL my family? why don't those people SO JACKED UP ON THE LORD'S ABILITY TO HEAL come and meet MY family? the one god HASN'T HEALED. and i'm not ignorant. i know god's been so good to me and i know god's been so good to my family. and i'll talk myself out of self-pity after ten minutes.. and then it'll still bother me so i'll pendulum right back again and... i want somebody to be mad at god like I'M mad at god. mostly cuz i hate seeing other people so happy at how the lord supernaturally healed their paper cut. or their knee screws evaporated or something when somebody prayed. my response: well, isn't that great and don't i want to KICK YOU IN THE SHINS! both shins! and then don't i want to be bitter and pissed until my knees give out....... and as much as i hate to say...it's true, it's jesus that i feel all around me. i recognize him. i know it's him. and he's got me. and my legs are broke so i can't stand but i'm swinging and i'm hitting my head so hard against his chest again and again because can't he SEE... can't he see? and i get tired and i cry myself to sleep in his arms.. holding me soft.. my last glimpse between my swollen eye lids are bruises on his arms and on his chest. guilt flashes through me but jesus says "sssshhhhhhhhh". and he runs his fingers down from my forehead, manually closing my eyes and my thoughts forced to turn in for the night. i sleep so deep and wake up in optional peace. take it or fight it.
there's a war for my worship.
bad diagnosis after bad diagnosis
medication after medication
fail after fail
good choices yeilding no seen results
hard choices yeilding no seen results
sickness after sickness
i don't trust him.
i don't know if i love him.
i'm having a hard time seeing the point in obeying him.
i feel betrayed by him.
i feel left by him.
i'm sick of the 'mystery' of faith. i'm not interested! cut the crap. be real or don't be.
there's a war for my worship going on. it's no mystery to me. it's not something shadowy or foggy that is made perfectly clear once someone sheds light on it. i KNOW it's there. i've KNOWN it's there. i know satan wants me and i know god wants me..but it all feels so anticlimactic. i feel like i see satan sitting at my mental kitchen table or something. just a businessman making an offer. and nothing. i kinda feel like jesus wants me but couldn't make the meeting. he sends a note with a secretary who runs into my kitchen panting and hoping that the note hand-signed by the lord will hold me over. keep me from making a brash decision. and i don't feel an urgency to join a side. but i do feel tired. i do know lies when they enter my head but i've no urgency to crush them. i know i need to read my bible but i've no care to uncover it in the crap of my just-moved-in-ness. and i feel like this: (in the most positive way possible) i feel like i could be like an orc off of lord of the rings... down in the hot, sweaty pit where the orcs pop out of the ground. fierce and ready to kill the instant they get that imprisoning slime off their bodies. i feel like i COULD make the choice to pop out and kill the enemy and say "hey SATAN. THINK FAST! i'm fighting this one. now WATCH ME read my bible." and i'm good with that. like, i'll read my bible before i go to bed. but with the attitude of 'for some reason i'm doing this... but there's nothing in here that'll help me.'
there's a war for my worship.
i am head deep in the snares of the devil. his ploys, his speeches, his business cards, his customer service. i got it. i've heard it. and it's because i've agreed with him. when a bad diagnosis hits my family, sure, i might hear god's tears falling but what help does that DO me? why doesn't god HEAL my family? why don't those people SO JACKED UP ON THE LORD'S ABILITY TO HEAL come and meet MY family? the one god HASN'T HEALED. and i'm not ignorant. i know god's been so good to me and i know god's been so good to my family. and i'll talk myself out of self-pity after ten minutes.. and then it'll still bother me so i'll pendulum right back again and... i want somebody to be mad at god like I'M mad at god. mostly cuz i hate seeing other people so happy at how the lord supernaturally healed their paper cut. or their knee screws evaporated or something when somebody prayed. my response: well, isn't that great and don't i want to KICK YOU IN THE SHINS! both shins! and then don't i want to be bitter and pissed until my knees give out....... and as much as i hate to say...it's true, it's jesus that i feel all around me. i recognize him. i know it's him. and he's got me. and my legs are broke so i can't stand but i'm swinging and i'm hitting my head so hard against his chest again and again because can't he SEE... can't he see? and i get tired and i cry myself to sleep in his arms.. holding me soft.. my last glimpse between my swollen eye lids are bruises on his arms and on his chest. guilt flashes through me but jesus says "sssshhhhhhhhh". and he runs his fingers down from my forehead, manually closing my eyes and my thoughts forced to turn in for the night. i sleep so deep and wake up in optional peace. take it or fight it.
there's a war for my worship.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
best not to mention cory asbury.
do you know the way you move me?
that's jesus saying that.
he's talking about howwwwwwww MUCH he loves us.
each individual because he treasures us and we're his own
if we let him make us that.
no matter if we accept it we ARE his children
his workmanship is our everyday vehicle of a body that
lives and breathes and carries us everywhere we need to go
but whether or not that's straight into the father's arms is another story.
and i don't complain because i know my savior loves me
but whether or not i feel that love in ushy gushy ways on a daily basis is another issue.
maybe it's not an issue
maybe it's just the way i work.
and i won't assume that i'm poorly wired and inept when it comes to the father's love just because i don't feel it all around me alllll the time.
some christians would tell me that i'm meant to live in the FULLNESS OF CHRIST ALLLLL THE TIME.
and i get it.
i DO.
i get it.
but i also want YOU to understand that my sin and the sin of this world BOGS ME DOWN sometimes.
like my suzuki that had dirt in its carburator. it wouldn't run cuz all my times around the woods made it a little dusty in the insides and spat and sputter because machines don't work like that!
and i don't either.
you saw that coming.
maybe my skepticism takes the best from me
maybe my skepticism keeps my heart from deceiving me because the heart is deceitful above all else
but god's heart's not.
but maybe i'm supposed to feel this distance
maybe i'm proving my faithfulness with the grace god gives and the stubbornness i muster.
maybe the desert is some place everyone else is too wussy to walk through.
maybe i've put up an umbrella and ordered a lemonade from a passing camel who didn't understand what i meant because no one is supposed to MAKE CAMP in the desert, content on STAYING there.
but maybe i don't call the shots on the calendar god goes by.
and maybe i'm right where he wants me.
BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE YOUUUUUUU.
AND I DON'T WANNA TALK LIKE YOU.
AND I DON'T WANNA WORSHIP LIKE YOU.
AND I DON'T WANNA TEAR UP OVER THE SAME THINGS BECAUSE MY HEART'S NOT YOUR HEART (and not that i think we're so inexplicably different... but ME=ME and YOU=YOU)
but there's questions left to be asked. and the questions tire me out and god waits and waits and waits for me to stop talking and stop ignoring and stop pretending like there are no answers to be had.
there are answers to be had.
i'll just have to cancel my lemonade order with that camel and get ready to move. because god DOES have bigger and better in store for the likes of myself. and i'm not fatalistic or pessimistic contrary to popular belief. but sometimes....
sometimes i just get tired.
and sometimes i just need a new paint job.
and sometimes i need a nap.
and sometimes i need out of school.
and sometimes i need to just be.
and play outside for hours and hours and some minutes.
and sometimes i just need a dog. and a kitty. a baby one.
and sometimes i just need to do music without stipulations.
and say "i don't care" to everything that doesn't involve crayons and gramma.
so.
i need a breath.
i need nothing.
god knows what i need.
that's jesus saying that.
he's talking about howwwwwwww MUCH he loves us.
each individual because he treasures us and we're his own
if we let him make us that.
no matter if we accept it we ARE his children
his workmanship is our everyday vehicle of a body that
lives and breathes and carries us everywhere we need to go
but whether or not that's straight into the father's arms is another story.
and i don't complain because i know my savior loves me
but whether or not i feel that love in ushy gushy ways on a daily basis is another issue.
maybe it's not an issue
maybe it's just the way i work.
and i won't assume that i'm poorly wired and inept when it comes to the father's love just because i don't feel it all around me alllll the time.
some christians would tell me that i'm meant to live in the FULLNESS OF CHRIST ALLLLL THE TIME.
and i get it.
i DO.
i get it.
but i also want YOU to understand that my sin and the sin of this world BOGS ME DOWN sometimes.
like my suzuki that had dirt in its carburator. it wouldn't run cuz all my times around the woods made it a little dusty in the insides and spat and sputter because machines don't work like that!
and i don't either.
you saw that coming.
maybe my skepticism takes the best from me
maybe my skepticism keeps my heart from deceiving me because the heart is deceitful above all else
but god's heart's not.
but maybe i'm supposed to feel this distance
maybe i'm proving my faithfulness with the grace god gives and the stubbornness i muster.
maybe the desert is some place everyone else is too wussy to walk through.
maybe i've put up an umbrella and ordered a lemonade from a passing camel who didn't understand what i meant because no one is supposed to MAKE CAMP in the desert, content on STAYING there.
but maybe i don't call the shots on the calendar god goes by.
and maybe i'm right where he wants me.
BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE YOUUUUUUU.
AND I DON'T WANNA TALK LIKE YOU.
AND I DON'T WANNA WORSHIP LIKE YOU.
AND I DON'T WANNA TEAR UP OVER THE SAME THINGS BECAUSE MY HEART'S NOT YOUR HEART (and not that i think we're so inexplicably different... but ME=ME and YOU=YOU)
but there's questions left to be asked. and the questions tire me out and god waits and waits and waits for me to stop talking and stop ignoring and stop pretending like there are no answers to be had.
there are answers to be had.
i'll just have to cancel my lemonade order with that camel and get ready to move. because god DOES have bigger and better in store for the likes of myself. and i'm not fatalistic or pessimistic contrary to popular belief. but sometimes....
sometimes i just get tired.
and sometimes i just need a new paint job.
and sometimes i need a nap.
and sometimes i need out of school.
and sometimes i need to just be.
and play outside for hours and hours and some minutes.
and sometimes i just need a dog. and a kitty. a baby one.
and sometimes i just need to do music without stipulations.
and say "i don't care" to everything that doesn't involve crayons and gramma.
so.
i need a breath.
i need nothing.
god knows what i need.
Friday, April 15, 2011
screw it. screw it ALL.
of all times. seriously. not the kind of "seriously" that's said with a lisp and a rolled eye, hand on hip, with the 'wow' statement that somehow turns into a four-syllable word. ah-woww-uhh. put your best valley girl impression on and then take it right back off because we won't need it from here on out. just wanted you to get the idea of what i'm NOT saying.
i'm talking the "seriously.." that has really lost all humor in the situation. that means it's gone FAR, folks. i found dead cat parts in the woods the other day. perfect face of a cat with nothing else attached to it. i ran after naomi with it hanging from a stick i scavenged. i can LAUGH at lots and lots. LOTS.
and it's not the pissed off, raving, piss-raving mad kind of "seriously.." either. or an impatient kind. it's kinda like those times when i griped at mom for taking forever in a clothing store or something. and when she'd make me stick my foot under the dressing room door so she'd know bad guys hadn't gotten me yet. she'd try on stuff for way longer than my attention/behaving span could tolerate. 4 minutes. and i'd get anxious. and cue same story only in a grocery store. she'd make me keep my hand on the cart. and then i ran away and got lost in the produce and cracker section and she'd be SO PISSED at me. and then one time, back in the clothing store, i ran away from mom again and hid in one of those round clothing racks. i was hiding in there and i could hear her calling my name. and i wanted to stick it out and REALLY hide but i kept getting scerrder and scerrder and eventually i couldn't take it---my butt was on the line. literally. i believe in spanking. shoot me.---so i ran out from the clothing rack. caught half the thing as i tripped out from the rack and the ENTIRE. ENTIRE. rack of clothes collapsed. and THEN.
ya. i was real scerrd. ain't no goin back and ma totally saw that.
so, then, after years of those types of incidents, i learned that i had to wait and stay by mom. and even when i reached my breaking point (8 minutes) i'd STICK IT OUT because otherwise. um. badthingswouldhappen. haha mom's a good mom. taught me everything i know. except for the things gramma taught me. and dad. and bob the dog. whatever. so, it's like you're content with waiting because you know if you hurry yo-self up and out, the consequences are gonna suck. take out the mom-metaphor or analogy, idk...mom-metaphor made an alliteration so i chose that. TAKE it outta that context and put it in the opposite of fake life.
real life.
k. and it's just like.. psh. yeahh... my way sucks. always does. even if i get myself happy as a lark there are bee bee guns with pellets a-flyin and i'm and WORLD'S EAAASSSSSSSSIEEEEESTTTTTT target. every time. least it feels like every time. i'm a poof of feathers (lark feathers...a lark's a bird, right?) whose body has suddenly been obliterated and wasted by a punk-what? kid who just impressed his buddy with his wicked shot and aim. jerk's gotta sight on the thing. cheapshot. but whatever! the shot's good and i was in the way..in the way that i chose to stand in and sing happy ignorant tunes in until i got choked by a fricking metal ball the size of a pea i got stuck up my nose once. little smaller. but no matter.
so. yeah, i'm irritated. and YES, i eat lots of mint chocolate chip ice cream cuz heeyyy heyyyy!!! i bought it one time and still have some left over. SCORE. and i'll be pissed at memories i thought long gone. crazy how that works. not sure it's healthy. anyway. (not really. attention being paid to that..) but for serious. seriously, i don't like this and seriously? it feels old. and seriously? i want jesus to step out of the grocery store and give me a hug and sticker for being such a good girl inside. as if i was.. but still. no condemnation for those who love him. ILOVEHIM!! (waving hand in the air, going "OHH oHH!!! PICK ME!" yes. your mental picture was correct) but anyway. i'm discovering how much i crave affirmation. and when i'm done and hanging for that high five that eternity's keeping for me (what a terrible idea. i want my high five NOW. assuming i'll get one. i haven't been doing anything awesome lately that makes me feel like a good person wracking up those blessings in heaven....but still. can i just have a high five?)...
i want affirmation and i'll run to the world to get it but screech and halt cuz that idea sucks and then i'll go back and sing misty edwards' "my soul longs for you and nothin else will do"...nothin and no one. so stop lookin for luvvv in all the wrong placesssss. not even the love stuff. just in general stuff. maybe i should buy a pack of stickers and start awarding people "good job!" and "you're neat!" instead of getting irritated and frustrated and kinda really mellow when i don't have a welcoming committee applauding me every time i force myself to walk away from the cupboard that holds the peanut butter that has a narrow alley yet to fill in my arteries. self. control. and this isn't about eating right, either. haaaa. it's not about anything. it's just about everything.
and by the way: parents shouldn't give their kids allowances because then when the kid's not affirmed with cash or applause or something cheery and cute, then they won't be gungho for doing what they should when they should JUST because they should.
i found this in conducting a test group of people i never met nor hired to conduct a test study on. basically, i don't know what i'm talking about... but. i think the big man, daddy-guy, God is teaching me that it's okay to do what's right and do what i'm supposed to do just because i need to. and when i pout and stomp my feet and hide in the produce section---he doesn't cave. this guy's got a spine and he's not shaken by my tantrums. "good for him," i'd say if the case in point weren't myself. but whatevs. i am the case in point. and seriously. god means business. even when all i've got to say is screw it.
screw it all.
i'll be honest the only reason i put that last part is because it ties back to my title. i really don't see how that made sense in context. i guess it could make sense. nevermind. i'm done caring about whatever it is i get worked up over when words and stuff don't fit right. i don't even care. kbye.
i'm talking the "seriously.." that has really lost all humor in the situation. that means it's gone FAR, folks. i found dead cat parts in the woods the other day. perfect face of a cat with nothing else attached to it. i ran after naomi with it hanging from a stick i scavenged. i can LAUGH at lots and lots. LOTS.
and it's not the pissed off, raving, piss-raving mad kind of "seriously.." either. or an impatient kind. it's kinda like those times when i griped at mom for taking forever in a clothing store or something. and when she'd make me stick my foot under the dressing room door so she'd know bad guys hadn't gotten me yet. she'd try on stuff for way longer than my attention/behaving span could tolerate. 4 minutes. and i'd get anxious. and cue same story only in a grocery store. she'd make me keep my hand on the cart. and then i ran away and got lost in the produce and cracker section and she'd be SO PISSED at me. and then one time, back in the clothing store, i ran away from mom again and hid in one of those round clothing racks. i was hiding in there and i could hear her calling my name. and i wanted to stick it out and REALLY hide but i kept getting scerrder and scerrder and eventually i couldn't take it---my butt was on the line. literally. i believe in spanking. shoot me.---so i ran out from the clothing rack. caught half the thing as i tripped out from the rack and the ENTIRE. ENTIRE. rack of clothes collapsed. and THEN.
ya. i was real scerrd. ain't no goin back and ma totally saw that.
so, then, after years of those types of incidents, i learned that i had to wait and stay by mom. and even when i reached my breaking point (8 minutes) i'd STICK IT OUT because otherwise. um. badthingswouldhappen. haha mom's a good mom. taught me everything i know. except for the things gramma taught me. and dad. and bob the dog. whatever. so, it's like you're content with waiting because you know if you hurry yo-self up and out, the consequences are gonna suck. take out the mom-metaphor or analogy, idk...mom-metaphor made an alliteration so i chose that. TAKE it outta that context and put it in the opposite of fake life.
real life.
k. and it's just like.. psh. yeahh... my way sucks. always does. even if i get myself happy as a lark there are bee bee guns with pellets a-flyin and i'm and WORLD'S EAAASSSSSSSSIEEEEESTTTTTT target. every time. least it feels like every time. i'm a poof of feathers (lark feathers...a lark's a bird, right?) whose body has suddenly been obliterated and wasted by a punk-what? kid who just impressed his buddy with his wicked shot and aim. jerk's gotta sight on the thing. cheapshot. but whatever! the shot's good and i was in the way..in the way that i chose to stand in and sing happy ignorant tunes in until i got choked by a fricking metal ball the size of a pea i got stuck up my nose once. little smaller. but no matter.
so. yeah, i'm irritated. and YES, i eat lots of mint chocolate chip ice cream cuz heeyyy heyyyy!!! i bought it one time and still have some left over. SCORE. and i'll be pissed at memories i thought long gone. crazy how that works. not sure it's healthy. anyway. (not really. attention being paid to that..) but for serious. seriously, i don't like this and seriously? it feels old. and seriously? i want jesus to step out of the grocery store and give me a hug and sticker for being such a good girl inside. as if i was.. but still. no condemnation for those who love him. ILOVEHIM!! (waving hand in the air, going "OHH oHH!!! PICK ME!" yes. your mental picture was correct) but anyway. i'm discovering how much i crave affirmation. and when i'm done and hanging for that high five that eternity's keeping for me (what a terrible idea. i want my high five NOW. assuming i'll get one. i haven't been doing anything awesome lately that makes me feel like a good person wracking up those blessings in heaven....but still. can i just have a high five?)...
i want affirmation and i'll run to the world to get it but screech and halt cuz that idea sucks and then i'll go back and sing misty edwards' "my soul longs for you and nothin else will do"...nothin and no one. so stop lookin for luvvv in all the wrong placesssss. not even the love stuff. just in general stuff. maybe i should buy a pack of stickers and start awarding people "good job!" and "you're neat!" instead of getting irritated and frustrated and kinda really mellow when i don't have a welcoming committee applauding me every time i force myself to walk away from the cupboard that holds the peanut butter that has a narrow alley yet to fill in my arteries. self. control. and this isn't about eating right, either. haaaa. it's not about anything. it's just about everything.
and by the way: parents shouldn't give their kids allowances because then when the kid's not affirmed with cash or applause or something cheery and cute, then they won't be gungho for doing what they should when they should JUST because they should.
i found this in conducting a test group of people i never met nor hired to conduct a test study on. basically, i don't know what i'm talking about... but. i think the big man, daddy-guy, God is teaching me that it's okay to do what's right and do what i'm supposed to do just because i need to. and when i pout and stomp my feet and hide in the produce section---he doesn't cave. this guy's got a spine and he's not shaken by my tantrums. "good for him," i'd say if the case in point weren't myself. but whatevs. i am the case in point. and seriously. god means business. even when all i've got to say is screw it.
screw it all.
i'll be honest the only reason i put that last part is because it ties back to my title. i really don't see how that made sense in context. i guess it could make sense. nevermind. i'm done caring about whatever it is i get worked up over when words and stuff don't fit right. i don't even care. kbye.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
is it a walk to remember if i'm sitting down?
okay, yes, never be my friend again, yes. i'm okay with that. completely understandable.
i might totally be watching 'a walk to remember' right now.
which means i intentionally TOOK TIME to look it up on the internet for a place i could watch it free. and now, after having watched 72 minutes of movie a blurb popped up saying i had to wait 30 minutes before proceeding to watch the rest of my overly, holy crap, SO overly sappy. and fast-moving, i might add. MOVIE.
first off, i saw bits and pieces of this movie when one of my older sisters was in high school and had friends over to watch it when it first came out.
let me tell you. this movie is painful. one of those where you analyze the situation playing out in the movie, then think of the most embarrassing and/or predictable line the next actor could say and then find yourself with your hand slapped up against your forehead because you can't stand the sentimentality that just happened and the predictability in which it happened. then i look over my shoulder to make sure no one knows i'm watching this movie because oh-my-wow it's so cheesy. and then i proceed to watch intently.
my thoughts thus far: of COURSE she has leukemia. as if mandy moore wasn't playing a damsel in distress already. next: i can't believe he just told her he loved her. oh my word. my hand. it's on my forehead and i LITERALLY feel embarrassed for the guy because it's so awkward! and that's after he danced with her at the fancy shmancy restaurant after she asked him...give him credit, he rejected her offer at first. but then upon being asked, "do you wanna dance?---brace yourself...this is painful..he shakes his head 'no' then she says--.... for ME?" and HE. CAAAAAVES. SICK--i can't believe she just said that. dancing? awesome. but the line? terrible. TERRIBLE. and then he strokes her hair and kisses her and like all logic tells, he says he loves her. PERSONALLY, i would prefer the guy tell me loved me before kissing me. talk about set the situation up for me to feel OBLIGATED to enhance the "moment" by telling what's-his-face that i love him, TOO--oh what a coincidence... but i'm a kill joy. but i mean, for real, what happens if she kisses him because he smells good and is nice to her and then he tells her he LOVES her and then she plays 'hard to get' but confirms that she feels the same way by kissing him back and THEN she wakes up the next day and thinks to herself: "hmm. yeah, i really don't think i like him. shoot. kissed him. liked THAT. but. um. i ain't so sure bout this boy." and then there's hard feelings and blaaaa bla blaaaaa bla blaaaaaa. realities that aren't covered in this movie..
and p.s. i saw the previews for this movie before the actual tape started rolling and...i'm really thinking these last 40 minutes are going to be just as bad as the first 72. oh. but WHY. whyyyyyyyy can't i stop watching this movie?! it's like when me and naomi would watch mary-kate and ashley and those girls fell in love EVERY SINGLE MOVIE. because their lives and relevance on the screen would be nothing without a hot boy from the beach or spain. basically meaning, the guy had to have a tan or an accent. then they were good to go for a summer courtship with the olson twins.
but. i AM going to finish this movie. and laugh about how pathetic it is with whoever will laugh with me later. all the while knowing that deep down inside i love it. because i think it's hilarious. and i just really SHAMEdly LIKE super cheesy movies sometimes.
my gag reflex and peeked interest can interact simultaneously.
my 30 minute wait time is up. SCORE.
i might totally be watching 'a walk to remember' right now.
which means i intentionally TOOK TIME to look it up on the internet for a place i could watch it free. and now, after having watched 72 minutes of movie a blurb popped up saying i had to wait 30 minutes before proceeding to watch the rest of my overly, holy crap, SO overly sappy. and fast-moving, i might add. MOVIE.
first off, i saw bits and pieces of this movie when one of my older sisters was in high school and had friends over to watch it when it first came out.
let me tell you. this movie is painful. one of those where you analyze the situation playing out in the movie, then think of the most embarrassing and/or predictable line the next actor could say and then find yourself with your hand slapped up against your forehead because you can't stand the sentimentality that just happened and the predictability in which it happened. then i look over my shoulder to make sure no one knows i'm watching this movie because oh-my-wow it's so cheesy. and then i proceed to watch intently.
my thoughts thus far: of COURSE she has leukemia. as if mandy moore wasn't playing a damsel in distress already. next: i can't believe he just told her he loved her. oh my word. my hand. it's on my forehead and i LITERALLY feel embarrassed for the guy because it's so awkward! and that's after he danced with her at the fancy shmancy restaurant after she asked him...give him credit, he rejected her offer at first. but then upon being asked, "do you wanna dance?---brace yourself...this is painful..he shakes his head 'no' then she says--.... for ME?" and HE. CAAAAAVES. SICK--i can't believe she just said that. dancing? awesome. but the line? terrible. TERRIBLE. and then he strokes her hair and kisses her and like all logic tells, he says he loves her. PERSONALLY, i would prefer the guy tell me loved me before kissing me. talk about set the situation up for me to feel OBLIGATED to enhance the "moment" by telling what's-his-face that i love him, TOO--oh what a coincidence... but i'm a kill joy. but i mean, for real, what happens if she kisses him because he smells good and is nice to her and then he tells her he LOVES her and then she plays 'hard to get' but confirms that she feels the same way by kissing him back and THEN she wakes up the next day and thinks to herself: "hmm. yeah, i really don't think i like him. shoot. kissed him. liked THAT. but. um. i ain't so sure bout this boy." and then there's hard feelings and blaaaa bla blaaaaa bla blaaaaaa. realities that aren't covered in this movie..
and p.s. i saw the previews for this movie before the actual tape started rolling and...i'm really thinking these last 40 minutes are going to be just as bad as the first 72. oh. but WHY. whyyyyyyyy can't i stop watching this movie?! it's like when me and naomi would watch mary-kate and ashley and those girls fell in love EVERY SINGLE MOVIE. because their lives and relevance on the screen would be nothing without a hot boy from the beach or spain. basically meaning, the guy had to have a tan or an accent. then they were good to go for a summer courtship with the olson twins.
but. i AM going to finish this movie. and laugh about how pathetic it is with whoever will laugh with me later. all the while knowing that deep down inside i love it. because i think it's hilarious. and i just really SHAMEdly LIKE super cheesy movies sometimes.
my gag reflex and peeked interest can interact simultaneously.
my 30 minute wait time is up. SCORE.
Monday, April 4, 2011
mary lied.
interesting train of thought. who can deny? everyone. anyone can deny it. but it's written on the sidewalks of the UNI campus which begs me to believe that people are wondering. i'm sick of questions not getting answered. i'm sick of phrases like "jesus loves you" being written underneath the colored chalk that used to draw hopscotch and four square but now is put to use for attack and question, philosophy and religion, reason and rights: why none and all should have them. chalk is the conduit for freedom on this campus and it SCREAMS, i tell you. literal volume that screeches in the ears of its opposition whose only defense is to muffle the noise with an overlap and a flower. and maybe a smiley face. depending on how bubbly they feel today. jesus loves you!
which is true. but.
the love of jesus isn't really the case in point. whether or not the virgin mary fricken whored around and got knocked up by someone other than the holy spirit IS. it's a question of whether or not people of varying genders are DOING OKAY. it's a question of whether or not the bible is true because I KNOW we all wanna know. and you can prove that the bible is consistent with itself--people do it all the time--but that's not helping necessarily the question of its divinity because THAT'S the seed that's gonna sprout a life changed. prove to me that this life is worth living and don't INSULT me with your weekly prayer meetings, time and place, smiley FACE drawn oh so fourth grade-like when i'm LOOKING for someone to take me on and take the time it'd take to get. to. know. me. and then to see that i want my questions answered. same as everyone else on this campus, city blocks wide that are all-consumed with academia and bills but are left still oozing with questions that mess up their minds like their laundry after they run out of quarters. i tried hard for that analogy.
what i'm saying is that it bothers me that we've got nothing better to say then that. then 'jesus loves me and you do, too". and cue mental picture of satan drawing a needle, shoving it in our brain and injecting novacane so that no thought comes to conclusion and no question is raised higher than the ground its written on. so, i'm sorry all y'all that have legitimate questions. hard questions that might sink a little deeper and effect you a little more than a chalky pink or blue can justify. questions that some christians have stepped over; pissed that people "can even WRITE that and where's my scrub brush and warm water, i'll have this gone in no time."
so. did mary lie? i say no. is that a good question? yes. do i have a paper trail proving i'm right? not off-hand. do i reject the idea that jesus loves gays and bi and trans? no. he totally does. do i question if the church can handle a debate in which the opposing side is INTELLIGENT?
yeah.
which is true. but.
the love of jesus isn't really the case in point. whether or not the virgin mary fricken whored around and got knocked up by someone other than the holy spirit IS. it's a question of whether or not people of varying genders are DOING OKAY. it's a question of whether or not the bible is true because I KNOW we all wanna know. and you can prove that the bible is consistent with itself--people do it all the time--but that's not helping necessarily the question of its divinity because THAT'S the seed that's gonna sprout a life changed. prove to me that this life is worth living and don't INSULT me with your weekly prayer meetings, time and place, smiley FACE drawn oh so fourth grade-like when i'm LOOKING for someone to take me on and take the time it'd take to get. to. know. me. and then to see that i want my questions answered. same as everyone else on this campus, city blocks wide that are all-consumed with academia and bills but are left still oozing with questions that mess up their minds like their laundry after they run out of quarters. i tried hard for that analogy.
what i'm saying is that it bothers me that we've got nothing better to say then that. then 'jesus loves me and you do, too". and cue mental picture of satan drawing a needle, shoving it in our brain and injecting novacane so that no thought comes to conclusion and no question is raised higher than the ground its written on. so, i'm sorry all y'all that have legitimate questions. hard questions that might sink a little deeper and effect you a little more than a chalky pink or blue can justify. questions that some christians have stepped over; pissed that people "can even WRITE that and where's my scrub brush and warm water, i'll have this gone in no time."
so. did mary lie? i say no. is that a good question? yes. do i have a paper trail proving i'm right? not off-hand. do i reject the idea that jesus loves gays and bi and trans? no. he totally does. do i question if the church can handle a debate in which the opposing side is INTELLIGENT?
yeah.
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