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.