Pull Me Out

Tell me now, when does this start feeling
Like I understand everything I'm dealing with
First I was young, now it's all just happening.
And what about the way I said that
Made you turn around and shake your head
Like I don't even know what I'm asking for.

Remember when I was young and hungry,
I could take it in without much money,
I had nothing at all but dreams and time to kill.
And now I feel like I'm treading water,
And I'm hardly real--I'm just trying harder
To make my way on the earth by standing still.

I can't get my feet off of the ground.
I wanna run, but I don't know how.
Can you reach down here and pull me out?
Can you pull me out? Yeah,
I wanna scream, but there's no sound.
I wanna fly to you somehow.
Can you reach down here and pull me out?
Can you pull me out?

Not a moment too soon you will be my rescue.
But tell me how long will it take?

Livin' on dreams and spaghetti-o's, wonderin' where my life is gonna go

There are certain moods that surface in one's self late at night. For me, there tend to be three different moods: whiny and sleepy, giddy and hyper, or pensive and melancholy. Tonight is a pensive and melancholy one.

My mother recently told me that my life is going nowhere. Although this was a desperate plea to convince me to move back home, the accusation still sticks with me. Where is my life going? I am only 22, and it's okay to still be figuring that out right? Do people ever really know where life is going? Because no one can ever see the curves and potholes life contains, I guess I've always figured it's better to wander aimlessly with only a skeleton of a plan. Now I'm rethinking that thesis, wondering if I should have a game plan for life, complete with alternate routes and secondary and tertiary plans.

One of my friends told everyone her post-college plans were teaching in a school back home. The teaching job was no more than a possibility, but it provided an answer for alllll those people who asked where her life was going. It's tempting to do that, and that's basically what I've been doing. It gives me a small sense of control to say that I have a "plan."

No one takes a college graduate seriously who claims to have no direction in her life save wherever God sees fit to send her. And for that reason, I persist in making up the answer to those goal questions on applications. I continue to bullshit people whenever they ask what's next in my life. I pick one of my "options" and run with it. Remember, perception is reality.

I Know Why Baptists Become Atheists

A few days ago I was assaulted in the parking lot of a "prestigious" university by a student. The student had followed me all night prior to the physical and verbal contact. After the encounter, the attacker followed me halfway home. I nearly called the cops.

One would think that the university, which cares more about its reputation than its students, would attempt to control the violence, but apparently a person has to merely say he is sorry and quote some Bible verses in order for true repentance to begin in his heart. Never mind the fact that I have bruises or that I never received the apology.

Another interesting drama has unfolded with a different student at this God-fearing school. Slander is an easy and powerful weapon, and I have recently become a victim. In my entire life I have never encountered such poisonous hatred as recently, at this school claiming to be a "city on a hill"--a light to the dark world around it. And it is not only the school that assumes this "Christlike" reputation but the hateful students as well.

I am not perfect. I do a lot of things wrong. And being spiteful does not necessarily mean that the joy of the Lord does not dwell in you. But I do know this: a person who repeatedly lies for no other reason than to hurt another person should not claim Christ.

All this to say that I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the lies and the labels and the boxes and the claims to know God. I'm sick of the slander and the hatred and the violence. I think I can sympathize with Paul, who was sick of the crap and exclaimed, "That's not the way you learned Christ!" (Eph 4: 20, paraphrased) Satan is corrupting the church. He is twisting it and perverting it. But I'm sick of hearing from the fundies that it is the contemporary church that is the perversion. The problem is with those prestigious, conservative fundamentalists who can't see past their rules and check boxes. (If it falls into certain guidelines, it's ok. If it doesn't follow the guidelines, it's bad.)

Can we just get back to the gospel, please?

Rilke

Angel!: If there were a place that we didn't know of, and there,
on some unsayable carpet, lover displayed
what they could never bring to mastery here--the bold
exploits of their high-flying hearts,
their towers of pleasure, their ladders
that have long since been standing where there was no ground, leaning
just on each other, trembling,--and could master all this,
before the surrounding spectators, the innumerable soundless dead;
Would these, then, throw down their final, forever saved-up,
forever hidden, unknown to us, eternally valid
coins of happiness before the at last
genuinely smiling pair on the gratified
carpet?

hurt

Family is probably one of the closest things to my heart. It is with my family that I feel the most comfortable and peaceful. It is also with my family that I feel the most annoyed, irritated, confused, angry, unnerved, disappointed, and trampled on. No one knows how to push those buttons better than my family.

And no one can hurt me quite as badly as my family.

See, for some inevitable and unexplainable reason we are all connected. I'm pretty certain there is a metaphysical reality in which we're all somehow tied together permanently--shackled to each other for eternity so that nothing we do is without consequence to another. And it sucks when you find this out the hard way.

Something Beautiful

In your ocean I'm ankle deep,
I feel the waves crashing on my feet;
It's like I know where I need to be
But I can't figure out,I can't figure out
Just how much air I will need to breathe
When your tide washes over me,
There's only one way to figure out
Will you let me drown?
Will you let me drown?

Hey now, this is my desire:
Consume me like a fire
Cause I just want something beautiful to touch me -
I know that I'm in reach
'Cause I am down on my knees
Waiting for something beautiful.
Oh-oh... something beautiful.

And the water is rising quick,
And for years I was scared of it.
We can't be sure when it will subside
So I won't leave your side,
No, I can't leave your side.

Hey now, this is my desire:
Consume me like a fire
'Cause I just want something beautiful to touch me -
I know that I'm in reach
'Cause I am down on my knees
Waiting for something beautiful.
Oh-oh... something beautiful.

In a daydreamI couldn't live like this
I wouldn't stop until I found something beautiful.
But when I wake up
And all I want, I have
You know it's still all I need -
something beautiful.

Hey now, this is my desire:
Consume me like a fire
'Cause I just want something beautiful to touch me -
I know that I'm in reach
'Cause I am down on my knees
Waiting for something beautiful.

Hebrews 4

"Satan does not tempt us to do wrong things; he tempts us in order to make us lose what God has put into us by regeneration--the possibility of being of value to God. He does not come on the line of tempting us to sin, but on the line of shifting the point of view." --Chambers

Confession

I have a confession to make.

When I brush my teeth sometimes I forget I'm brushing them. No longer is the brushing about the cleanliness of my teeth. The act of brushing becomes an intimacy between my mouth and the minty brushing sensation. That is the point where brushing my teeth is no longer a duty or a hygenical ritual. It becomes more than that. It becomes something pleasurable.

Waiting

When I pictured myself graduated, I didn't expect my life to be like this. Summer school every day at 7:30. No job. My housemate still hasn't moved out of my bedroom, and I have nowhere to put my clothes. I'm still living out of a suitcase.

In his book Flabbergasted, Ray Blackston says, "We spend vast amounts of time and energy crafting a thesis in our heads of how life should play out. Then Almighty God spends an incredibly brief amount of time blowing our thesis to bits."

How freakin true.

I don't pretend to know what God is doing right now. I do know that every time I try to make plans for this part of my life I run smack into a brick wall. So I've stopped. Kind of. Sometimes I try again. But for the most part, it's easy for me to wake up with no expectations.

But waiting? I detest waiting. I'm not a patient person. I even expect my friends to wait on me, but I hate waiting on them. I can't remember the last time I was jobless. I've been working since I was 14. And now I'm supposed to wait for a job? I'm supposed to wait for my diploma? I'm going crazy here.

Waiting is probably the hardest thing I've done.

Update

Tonight I finally have breathing room. I finally am able to take a breath and look back.

School consumes my thoughts, my life. I guess it's supposed to be that way... I'm just focusing on making it. Yes, 32 more days and counting.

And I swear, if one more person asks me what I'm doing this summer....

I like to live life without a plan. Wing it. It's so stress-free. Until some "friend" here asks what I'm doing when I graduate in 32 days, and I say, "Oh, I'm not sure yet." Then comes the inevitable lifting of the eyebrows and the exaggerated "Ohhh ok." And I can read their stupid judgmental thoughts. And I hate them.

[This is not a reflection on Courtney, who actually asked me that a couple of days ago.]

I barely have time to think about today, and definitely not this summer.

Immersion

I'm leaving for school in 4 hours. Let that one sink in.

I hate this feeling. Do other people (non-BJU/PCC people) enjoy a new semester? When I drive back through those black gates, it's immediate immersion. Drowning. I can feel the fear. I admit, there are several reasons I'm going to bawl like a baby on graduation day. However, there are a multitude of reasons I'll be rejoicing. Going back reminds me more of the bad things than the good ones. Nervous because 115 days is plenty of time to do something stupid and find myself on the outside of the gates--involuntarily.

I will graduate.

Doldrums

For some reason, I've never been huge into blogging before. I had a xanga, but I mostly used it to post random lyrics I decided I liked. Lately I've been intrigued by blogs. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because of the sudden overwhelming sense that I'm about to leave all known amenities and just might be alone with nothing but my poor computer with which to discuss my rambling thoughts. I mean, my roommates might not listen to me, but at least they are human beings, and my brain is comforted that I am not babbling aimlessly. This blogging method of communication placates me temporarily because I can tell myself that people will read what I write and that it won't be wasted.

Plus I'm at work, and I'm bored.