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| I am ending my Xanga.
This will only marginally affect anyone, especially since five people (to generously estimate) my read this - and most likely with little regularity.
But, I am doing this. It's just time. There are reasons, but they're not that interesting...so just take my word for it. This is for the best.
This is not my final endeavor in the blogging world. I may start a blogspot...Most likely I will, since I like the idea of blogging. If you would like the address for that, let me know. | | |
| I am posting this for no reason.
These three things are posted by my bed. They prompt very truthful thought and prayer from me...a lot. So, here it is.
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May the God of all hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit - Romans 15:13
May today there be peace within.
May you trust in your highest power that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts you have recieved and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle in our bones and allow your soul the freedom to dance, sing, praise and love.
- Mother Teresa
By day, the Lord directs his love,
at night, his song is with me -
a prayer to the God of my life.
- Psalm 42:8 | | |
| Let me explain to you what is going on right now: Last week, a family in our church asked me to housesit while they are in Oregon for the weekend. I thought, "Relatively easy money. 2 sweet dogs. A jacuzzi....Sure." Turns out that by "housesitting", she really mean "babysitting my college-aged son who I fear will throw wild parties while we are away." Her son is 20 and is still here...working during the day and hanging out here with his buddies at night. I am apparently here to discourage them from acting like idiots and doing something requiring police intervention or deep carpet cleaning. Had I known this, I would have though, "No way in hell - but thanks, though." After feeling incredibly awkward here with them last night, I am still here in the morning because one of the young punks I am supposed to keep out of trouble has blocked me in. (My mild amusement and anger is apparently finding a very profane voice that I am attempting to censor from the internet world at large).
Seeing as I am quarantined this morning, I have had a strange amount of unscheduled time, which is rare these days. So, I don't have anything to be doing. Hence, a xanga entry.
I am cutting my hair next week. When Serena (my hairstylist) asks what I want her to do, I am building up the courage to say that she may do whatever will look good. This haircut needs to be symbolic...a change reflective of a post-North Park, pre-whatever else comes next mentality that I am working so hard to develop. I will be getting it cut in a week - so here's hoping I keep my courage.
One thing that is incredibly strange about this house...they had a daughter who was my age who died when we were 12. It was incredibly unexpected, and processing her death was a very defining moment for me and my other 6th grade friends. I haven't been over here much in the last 10 years (wow, 10 years...), but when I am, seeing pictures of Lindsay makes me feel like I am 12 again. She doesn't get older here, and I find myself hating that I have and feeling like I am still 12...or maybe it's more like wishing I was. Anyways - that's a little weird. I'm not going to lie.
I've also been thinking a lot about this: I hate it when people pray for parking, which I feel may reflect poorly on my Christianity - but I'm not sure that it does. It just strikes me as so...ridiculous. Trivial. Selfish. I'm not sure. Maybe this is something bigger - or maybe it's nothing. Anyways, just a thought.
YES! I can move my car. And with that - I'm off to get coffee.
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| There are a lot of different people in my life and on my heart right now.
To start, I miss Kaitlin Aaker and do not see her nearly enough. I think about this every time I see her and for days afterwards. Kaitlin: we didn't take a picture together at the wedding. boo. watch your mail at camp. and call me on a weekend when you have reception.
There are some here in Gig Harbor who have known me forever yet hardly know me. I manage to run into them at inopportune moments - like when buying cold medicine at Safeway (for those in the Midwest, read: JewelOsco). Truth be told, I feel quite clastrophobic having conversations about life in grocery store aisles. It seems inappropriate and awkward for so many reasons. With few exceptions, these spontaneous interactions are always regrettable and drawn out. I know (at least I hope) that I am not alone in this. The worst situation is when these people are those that used to be powerfully a part of my life that I have sense fallen out of touch with (sometimes intentionally). I never know what to say to those people, and there seem to be a lot of them lately. At length, I suppose I would figure out how to offer and explaination without excuses or apologies. I'm sure it would be wrought with cliche about feeling more true to myself now than ever before, and I would do my best to avoid that but would inevitably fail. Though, I never get the chance to see how these conversations play out since they basically stagnate in their infancy in the grocery store or wherever else they happen to occur. Maybe I should change this and actually have one of these conversations fully - though, I'm not sure how that would happen and I anticipate that it would not be enjoyable. But maybe it would be worth it anyways.
I miss North Park in odd ways. For instance, I still see people around town that I confuse with those I would see on campus. For example, I thought I saw Moses Allen driving a jeep down Wollochet Drive today. I'm convinced it wasn't him, though I was also momentarily convinced that it was. Anne Clausen was also at our small town parade - except it wasn't really her. It was just someone who owned the same North Face and had her hair color (ish). This is probably common and symptomatic of people in transition. I miss my friends daily and am realizing that I have become a lot like many of them, which I like and laugh when I recognize. I sometimes feel like North Park never happened. I am endlessly glad that this is not true.
I have really missed children this last year. That may sound weird, but it is true. Keir (the boy I nanny) is refreshing. He learned how to say "bubble" this week and now whispers it like it is a secret because it is apparently more fun to say that way. He speaks very little, communicating through sign langauge that he learned as a baby and other signs he made up as a toddler. He mostly says "yes", "no", "yeah", and "Oompa-Loompa". But, he gets his point across. It's a breath of fresh air, really. A pleasant way to spend a summer.
That is all for now. I seem to have update my xanga bimonthly...so this may remain my pattern. Stay tuned. | | |
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