Last night at Dale Batten's Bible Study in Harrison Twp., I had this revelation:
The road to heaven isn't paved with good intentions, it's paved with relationships. If God opens doors and closes them, it's for the sake of relationships. I believe that if we allow Him to, God molds us into our white-stone self--IE, we are molded as creatures who reach their greatest potential. We're made in the image of God, so that is a pretty high potential. Meanwhile, the events in our life following Him resemble some intricate dance of interractions with people, or, as I say, relationships with people.
So why are Christians so exclusive? So divided? I believe the number one person excluded from the Church (in America?) is the "homosexual." A person should always feel comfortable in a Fellowship group, no matter what they identify themself as (or what society identifies them as...). If Jesus is truly at the gathering place of Believers, the homosexual person should be drawn there. How does the world know Jesus is in us? By the way we treat each other. That's what John says over and over in his letters. I have heard quite a bit of gay-bashing in my life, and it's always from the mouth of Christians. This infuriates me, because why are we focusing on one aspect of a person and then ripping it apart? Now if a person insists that a certain aspect of themselves be emphasized, that's one thing that we can't help, but I don't believe we should ever rip apart a person because of a choice they make. Who do we think we are, really? I think we are trying to be Judges. Well, we need to quit that because it really pisses Jesus off.
The book I'm reading is about politics and God--my two favorite subjects, the two most apalling subjects to bring up in public (though my circles dismiss the first and welcome the second subject into their conversations, it seems. Probably rightly so, but it IS nice to find a friend I can discuss both subjects with freely). The author, whose name is Jim Wallace, quoted some NY Preacher who said "Nobody gets into Heaven without a letter of recommendation from the poor." What do you all think of that? I think it's a fantastic image, really. I'm weighing that idea with the fact that there's a book sold in a Christian catalogue called "The Wall-Mart Way" that offers instructions on the Christ-like way to be a Wall-mart-like entreprenuer. (I have no idea how to spell entreprenuer. I don't really care, either, because I don't care to be associated with that word.)
I think the word poor can have a multitude of meanings. We need to love the poor and rich alike to keep on God's path. Eric Bibb puts it best:
"Walk with the rich
Walk with the poor
Learn from everyone
Thats what life is for..."
Isn't that what life is for? How can we learn unless we love? I have said this many times, I think. But it's ringing truer for me every day. And you know? I think one of the best things about being single is that it frees me up to love people on an equal plain... I don't have to pay more attention to one in particular. I will enjoy this while it lasts.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Today a ghost is born
"I'm going away
Where you will look for me
Where I'm going you cannot come
No one's ever gonna take my life from me
I lay it down
A ghost is born"
~Wilco, THEOLOGIANS
That's my song I "discovered" this week. And it's an Easter message! Today the ghost was born. I love ghosts, as many of you know, so that was a cool way to see Easter.
This year has been a big year for me, in terms of resurrection. I thought about resurrection and celebrated it all year long. Around this time last year I sort of discovered the law of resurrection--how life comes from death. It's been at the points when I have felt that I had nothing that life came pouring in. I have discovered that through the resurrection: the best art comes from suffering, the funniest comedy comes from sorrow, the truest friendships are the ones that were held through hardships. So you see, the resurrection law affects everyone.
And now we get to see it! Spring is the resurrection season--we get to see the dead rise all around us. In summer we'll forget how it snowed all through our March.
Happy resurrection day, everyone.
Where you will look for me
Where I'm going you cannot come
No one's ever gonna take my life from me
I lay it down
A ghost is born"
~Wilco, THEOLOGIANS
That's my song I "discovered" this week. And it's an Easter message! Today the ghost was born. I love ghosts, as many of you know, so that was a cool way to see Easter.
This year has been a big year for me, in terms of resurrection. I thought about resurrection and celebrated it all year long. Around this time last year I sort of discovered the law of resurrection--how life comes from death. It's been at the points when I have felt that I had nothing that life came pouring in. I have discovered that through the resurrection: the best art comes from suffering, the funniest comedy comes from sorrow, the truest friendships are the ones that were held through hardships. So you see, the resurrection law affects everyone.
And now we get to see it! Spring is the resurrection season--we get to see the dead rise all around us. In summer we'll forget how it snowed all through our March.
Happy resurrection day, everyone.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Quiz results
Here's the results from some quizzes I got the link from Ann Scharnhorst's blog. The first was to see what country I am. Of the 60 something possiblities of Nations that most resemble Nora Jean Bonner, I got:
So... That's why I'm so damn patriotic these days!
Next, the State Quiz:
p>
You're Missouri!
An admirer of the works of Mark Twain and the steamboat lifestyle, you
are happiest when floating gently down the river. You have a strong sense of
independence, a reverence for saints, and even look up to discredited explorers. With all
these traditional influences, it's no surprise you're at the center of everyone you know,
and are even considered a gateway to the future. If only you could stop drinking the
world's worst beer, you'd be set.
Take the State Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
I drink Rolling Rock. I guess that's not really quality. The Mark Twain part is right.
Finally, the book quiz:
p>
You're The Poisonwood Bible!
by Barbara Kingsolver
Deeply rooted in a religious background, you have since become both
isolated and schizophrenic. You were naively sure that your actions would help people,
but of course they were resistant to your message and ultimately disaster ensued. Since
you can see so many sides of the same issue, you are both wise beyond your years and
tied to worthless perspectives. If you were a type of waffle, it would be
Belgian.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
All I have to say about that is HAH. I think that one was the most right on, was it not? Too bad I can't get through that book...
I guess I should post the link to these quizzes:
http://bluepyramid.org/ia/
Let me know how you do...
You're
the United Nations!
Most people think you're ineffective, but you are trying to
completely save the world from itself, so there's always going to be a long
way to go. You're always the one trying to get friends to talk to each
other, enemies to talk to each other, anyone who can to just talk instead of
beating each other about the head and torso. Sometimes it works and sometimes
it doesn't, and you get very schizophrenic as a result. But your heart
is in the right place, and sometimes also in New York.
face="Times New Roman">Take the Country
Quiz at the Blue Pyramid
So... That's why I'm so damn patriotic these days!
Next, the State Quiz:
p>
You're Missouri!
An admirer of the works of Mark Twain and the steamboat lifestyle, you
are happiest when floating gently down the river. You have a strong sense of
independence, a reverence for saints, and even look up to discredited explorers. With all
these traditional influences, it's no surprise you're at the center of everyone you know,
and are even considered a gateway to the future. If only you could stop drinking the
world's worst beer, you'd be set.
Take the State Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
I drink Rolling Rock. I guess that's not really quality. The Mark Twain part is right.
Finally, the book quiz:
p>
You're The Poisonwood Bible!
by Barbara Kingsolver
Deeply rooted in a religious background, you have since become both
isolated and schizophrenic. You were naively sure that your actions would help people,
but of course they were resistant to your message and ultimately disaster ensued. Since
you can see so many sides of the same issue, you are both wise beyond your years and
tied to worthless perspectives. If you were a type of waffle, it would be
Belgian.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
All I have to say about that is HAH. I think that one was the most right on, was it not? Too bad I can't get through that book...
I guess I should post the link to these quizzes:
http://bluepyramid.org/ia/
Let me know how you do...
Annex Part III
Today we had our most rowdy audience yet. I almost broke out of character during the Anne-Kisses-Peter scene, because each of their movements was interpreted vocally:
1) The bell tolls 9 o'Clock, and Anne is supposed to be out of the attic (where she is on her "date" with Peter)--the audience groans.
2) Anne moves past Peter and he doesn't kiss her--The audience groans louder.
3)Peter gives Anne a peck on the cheek--The audience groans even louder.
4) Anne gives Peter a huge smackeroo--The audience cheers.
Meanwhile, I'm looking at my crossword puzzle book, trying desperately not to laugh, or to discreetly glance at Seth the Stagehand who sits directly across from me, stage right (which would cause me to laugh more).
I'm noticing that it's getting a bit harder to focus during performances. Maybe I just need a break. Well, I have tomorrow off, a performance Sunday, Monday off, and then performances Tuesday through Friday. It's amazing how fast this process went by...
1) The bell tolls 9 o'Clock, and Anne is supposed to be out of the attic (where she is on her "date" with Peter)--the audience groans.
2) Anne moves past Peter and he doesn't kiss her--The audience groans louder.
3)Peter gives Anne a peck on the cheek--The audience groans even louder.
4) Anne gives Peter a huge smackeroo--The audience cheers.
Meanwhile, I'm looking at my crossword puzzle book, trying desperately not to laugh, or to discreetly glance at Seth the Stagehand who sits directly across from me, stage right (which would cause me to laugh more).
I'm noticing that it's getting a bit harder to focus during performances. Maybe I just need a break. Well, I have tomorrow off, a performance Sunday, Monday off, and then performances Tuesday through Friday. It's amazing how fast this process went by...
And Another One
I have another performance project underway--I'm in an original rock musical called Manny in the Mirror. The person who wrote it is in Anne Frank with me (he plays Krahler, for those who know the show). We're performing at the Planet Ant theater in Hamtramk. Performances are mid April through Mid May. I play some kind of Siren--who is also a 13 year old church girl or something. More information will be posted when I know what it is I'm doing...
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Annex Update P. 2
Today's show went terribly. I dropped lines a couple times, and I don't have that many lines to begin with... Roger and Mark from my neighborhood theater came and saw me today too, which was very sweet of them but I wish I'd given them a better performance. I think I was jinxed... I made a sarcastic remark before the show about how I was going to refuse to take anymore notes because my performance was perfect. I was joking! But I just couldn't get into it today.
We only had one school come but there was a talk-back. The two teachers that were there asked 99% of the questions. That was a bit annoying. I think those kids just wanted to leave. I was too miserable to answer any of the questions, because I felt so lousy about my performance. I wished I could have answered the question about "should someone who wants to be an actor study theater in college?" I would have appalled them with the answer "Not all actors should go to school. School isn't for everyone." But I couldn't say that because Mr. Van Daan already had put in his 10 cents about why school is necessary. There was also the question, what should someone DO if they want to be an actor? What was our advice? I said nothing, but here is my advice: Get your self-worth from a source outside of theater. Know that theater will never love you as much as you love theater. I wonder what the 12-14 year olds would have thought of that. I guess it's good I didn't answer the question. I mean, who wants to listen to a bitter (old) actress?
We only had one school come but there was a talk-back. The two teachers that were there asked 99% of the questions. That was a bit annoying. I think those kids just wanted to leave. I was too miserable to answer any of the questions, because I felt so lousy about my performance. I wished I could have answered the question about "should someone who wants to be an actor study theater in college?" I would have appalled them with the answer "Not all actors should go to school. School isn't for everyone." But I couldn't say that because Mr. Van Daan already had put in his 10 cents about why school is necessary. There was also the question, what should someone DO if they want to be an actor? What was our advice? I said nothing, but here is my advice: Get your self-worth from a source outside of theater. Know that theater will never love you as much as you love theater. I wonder what the 12-14 year olds would have thought of that. I guess it's good I didn't answer the question. I mean, who wants to listen to a bitter (old) actress?
Monday, March 07, 2005
Secrets of the Annex (P. 1?)
We opened the show today. I'm in the Diary of Anne Frank for those who forgot, playing Anne's sister Margot. The crowd was kids, rowdy ones at that.
When the show opens, I'm the first person you see as the curtain rises--they sent Margot before the other Franks because she was called up by the Nazis (that's why the family went into hiding). I could hear the rumbling of youngsters on the other side of the curtain before it rose. They were pretty rowdy during the whole show, very vocally responsive during the scene where Anne and Peter kiss. I guess I didn't mind it too much be cause I liked to hear them express their reactions. Why do we have theater, anyway? So we can supress reactions? I found comfort in their hoots,really I did. "They are there,"I thought while sitting on the couch and pretending not to hear them while the scene was going on behind me. "They are there and they are alive."
I should say that at the end of the play they were completely silent. That said something too... In fact, if they weren't so rowdy for the rest, we wouldn't have seen the impact of the last scene.
Here's the funny story of the performance: The person that brings us things in the play, Miep, comes in and tells us about the British Invasion of Europe. SHe puts a map on the table and all the kids (anne, peter, and me) look over her shoulder at it. Today she couldn't find the map, so instead, she brought out a poster that had this huge picture of a puppet on it, a clown puppet. The girl who plays Anne, Sara, and I started cracking up. We just let the laughter out. It seemed appropriate to let the Frank gals get a good laugh in before the show was over. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion any how...
As a result of the missing map, we got this new piece of dialogue:
MIEP: Look! I brought a map!
ANNE: (Dead Pan): Yes, you sure did.
Well, that was the first performance. Maybe I'll have something to document from each one. Or at least a few more...
When the show opens, I'm the first person you see as the curtain rises--they sent Margot before the other Franks because she was called up by the Nazis (that's why the family went into hiding). I could hear the rumbling of youngsters on the other side of the curtain before it rose. They were pretty rowdy during the whole show, very vocally responsive during the scene where Anne and Peter kiss. I guess I didn't mind it too much be cause I liked to hear them express their reactions. Why do we have theater, anyway? So we can supress reactions? I found comfort in their hoots,really I did. "They are there,"I thought while sitting on the couch and pretending not to hear them while the scene was going on behind me. "They are there and they are alive."
I should say that at the end of the play they were completely silent. That said something too... In fact, if they weren't so rowdy for the rest, we wouldn't have seen the impact of the last scene.
Here's the funny story of the performance: The person that brings us things in the play, Miep, comes in and tells us about the British Invasion of Europe. SHe puts a map on the table and all the kids (anne, peter, and me) look over her shoulder at it. Today she couldn't find the map, so instead, she brought out a poster that had this huge picture of a puppet on it, a clown puppet. The girl who plays Anne, Sara, and I started cracking up. We just let the laughter out. It seemed appropriate to let the Frank gals get a good laugh in before the show was over. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion any how...
As a result of the missing map, we got this new piece of dialogue:
MIEP: Look! I brought a map!
ANNE: (Dead Pan): Yes, you sure did.
Well, that was the first performance. Maybe I'll have something to document from each one. Or at least a few more...
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Security
I went to see the Soweto Gospel Choir last night. I am ready to go to South Africa now! They performed the most wonderful rendition of "Amazing Grace" I've ever heard. Funny how I can hear a song about a billion times and then on the billion and first time, it makes me cry. I cried at this line:
"The Lord has promised good to me
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures."
It's so good to have the Lord to trust. It's so good.
"The Lord has promised good to me
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures."
It's so good to have the Lord to trust. It's so good.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Tis so Sweet
I went to Will Lawson's funeral yesterday. I cried when my uncle paul sang,
"I'm so glad I learned to trust Thee
Precious Jesus, Savior, Friend
And I know that Thou art with me
Will be with me till the end.
Jesus, Jesus, How I trust Him
How I've proved him o'er and o'er
Jesus Jesus, Precious Jesus
O For grace to Trust Him more."
What would this world be like with out Jesus to trust? With death and no Jesus... What would this time of my life be like? I don't even want to think about it, but I think it has something to do with panic.
"I'm so glad I learned to trust Thee
Precious Jesus, Savior, Friend
And I know that Thou art with me
Will be with me till the end.
Jesus, Jesus, How I trust Him
How I've proved him o'er and o'er
Jesus Jesus, Precious Jesus
O For grace to Trust Him more."
What would this world be like with out Jesus to trust? With death and no Jesus... What would this time of my life be like? I don't even want to think about it, but I think it has something to do with panic.
That Old U2 Theology
It's starting to speak to me now! The new U2 Album is what I'm referring to. Here's the first song to speak to me. It's called
"One Step Closer"
I'm 'round the corner from anything that's real
I'm across the road from hope
I'm under a bridge in a rip tide
That's taken everything I call my own
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
I'm on an island at a busy intersection
I can't go forward, I can't turn back
Can't see the future
It's getting away from me
I just watch the tail lights glowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
Knowing, knowing
I'm hanging out to dry
With my old clothes
Finger still red with the prick of an old rose
Well the heart that hurts
Is a heart that beats
Can you hear the drummer slowing?
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
To knowing, to knowing, to knowing
Can you believe this stuff? "A heart that hurts is a heart that beats." I'm hurting, so must be alive. It's good to be alive--that much I'm closer to knowing. The song reminds me that Jesus works in our broken hearts, teaches us more about Himself. I'm still waiting for resurrection from this gloom, but at least I'm one step closer.
"One Step Closer"
I'm 'round the corner from anything that's real
I'm across the road from hope
I'm under a bridge in a rip tide
That's taken everything I call my own
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
I'm on an island at a busy intersection
I can't go forward, I can't turn back
Can't see the future
It's getting away from me
I just watch the tail lights glowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
Knowing, knowing
I'm hanging out to dry
With my old clothes
Finger still red with the prick of an old rose
Well the heart that hurts
Is a heart that beats
Can you hear the drummer slowing?
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
To knowing, to knowing, to knowing
Can you believe this stuff? "A heart that hurts is a heart that beats." I'm hurting, so must be alive. It's good to be alive--that much I'm closer to knowing. The song reminds me that Jesus works in our broken hearts, teaches us more about Himself. I'm still waiting for resurrection from this gloom, but at least I'm one step closer.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
UPdate
I've been taking my time to update, because I hadn't anything good to say until now. I only had the negative news: Nate and I broke up on Sunday. I'm grieving, as you could guess I would be by reading my recent entries. I've been working through the loss, trying to figure out how to deal with myself now. I miss him terribly (though I must mention that our break-up was high spirited, we both felt like it was the best thing to do at this time.) We want time to get to know each other as good friends, since we never really had that time. We are both uncertain about our future together and don't feel like we know each other well enough to trust one another through the grit we've been facing. Meanwhile, we decided to take the next 10 days away from each other, without communicating. This has been so hard for me because I miss him so much.
So, I spent the last three days, as I've said, in a deep grieving state. I only had JC Penney's to do--lots of time to think and grieve. I'd go home and cry a bit over my loss. Sleep has been hard, eating too. But today I started on what I think will be a path of my revitalization.
To be single is not a bad thing. I remember being single last summer and having joy in that state--there is joy in singleness. Focus is a blessing that comes with singleness. It's a time to be useful.
I started my project with Walk and Squawk, collecting stories from elderly Detroiters at the Hannan House. We had a poetry workshop with a local spoken-word artist named Blair. Blair's income is Art. He makes a living at it! What an inspiration. He pays his bills by performing with has band and teaching poetry four times a week at Cass Tech HS. He's going to be performing in the Walking Project--the show I'm going to South Africa with in May or June. The workshop's particpants were a delightful group. I am very excited about being part of this project. Love for my city burst forth during the session.
After Hannan House, I headed over to my old high school and helped coach a Forensics Duo. They were doing a James Baldwin piece called the "Amen Corner." The kids I worked with were sweet and attentive and talented. It was gratifying to be able to relate some of my theater training to their work. I'll be returning there tomorrow after the funeral.
I left DSA, my HS, with such a sense of usefulness. Yes, I still ache for Nate. But today I didn't have to sit in my room and cry about it. The feeling of renewal started this morning when I cleaned the snow off of my car. "Look, I am doing this," I told myself. "I am single and I can get by on my own." I don't know what will happen with my future, in terms of relationships, guys, being in love. But today I am single and today I am useful.
One more thing I should mention: Blair told me that before the Walking Project goes to South Africa, they will take a week and perform it in London. He asked if I was coming... So, London may be in the future for me! I have always wanted to go there... The trip is contingent (sp? on my funds. Anyone willing to donate money?
--
My grandma just called, in a frantic state. My mother is supposed to pick her up in about fifteen minutes and take her to a funeral visitation. "Tell your mother I'm sorry but I lost track of time. I was painting and now I'm running late. Tell her to make it quarter after now, instead of quarter till..." I handed the phone to my mom and then returned to this blog entry smiling: The woman is 84, and she still gets wrapped up in her painting and loses track of time. She has been single most of her life, but she has found joy in what she does. She is still single, and still useful. I hope, in this way, I will end up like her.
So, I spent the last three days, as I've said, in a deep grieving state. I only had JC Penney's to do--lots of time to think and grieve. I'd go home and cry a bit over my loss. Sleep has been hard, eating too. But today I started on what I think will be a path of my revitalization.
To be single is not a bad thing. I remember being single last summer and having joy in that state--there is joy in singleness. Focus is a blessing that comes with singleness. It's a time to be useful.
I started my project with Walk and Squawk, collecting stories from elderly Detroiters at the Hannan House. We had a poetry workshop with a local spoken-word artist named Blair. Blair's income is Art. He makes a living at it! What an inspiration. He pays his bills by performing with has band and teaching poetry four times a week at Cass Tech HS. He's going to be performing in the Walking Project--the show I'm going to South Africa with in May or June. The workshop's particpants were a delightful group. I am very excited about being part of this project. Love for my city burst forth during the session.
After Hannan House, I headed over to my old high school and helped coach a Forensics Duo. They were doing a James Baldwin piece called the "Amen Corner." The kids I worked with were sweet and attentive and talented. It was gratifying to be able to relate some of my theater training to their work. I'll be returning there tomorrow after the funeral.
I left DSA, my HS, with such a sense of usefulness. Yes, I still ache for Nate. But today I didn't have to sit in my room and cry about it. The feeling of renewal started this morning when I cleaned the snow off of my car. "Look, I am doing this," I told myself. "I am single and I can get by on my own." I don't know what will happen with my future, in terms of relationships, guys, being in love. But today I am single and today I am useful.
One more thing I should mention: Blair told me that before the Walking Project goes to South Africa, they will take a week and perform it in London. He asked if I was coming... So, London may be in the future for me! I have always wanted to go there... The trip is contingent (sp? on my funds. Anyone willing to donate money?
--
My grandma just called, in a frantic state. My mother is supposed to pick her up in about fifteen minutes and take her to a funeral visitation. "Tell your mother I'm sorry but I lost track of time. I was painting and now I'm running late. Tell her to make it quarter after now, instead of quarter till..." I handed the phone to my mom and then returned to this blog entry smiling: The woman is 84, and she still gets wrapped up in her painting and loses track of time. She has been single most of her life, but she has found joy in what she does. She is still single, and still useful. I hope, in this way, I will end up like her.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Who Am I
Diane Martin read this is Church today. It's a poem Bonhoeffer wrote in prison.
---
Who am I? They often tell me I would step from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly, like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell me I would talk to my warden freely and friendly and clearly, as though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me I would bear the days of misfortune equably, smilingly, proudly, like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really all that which other men tell of, or am I only what I know of myself, restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat, yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds, thirsting for
words of kindness, for neighborliness, trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation, tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance, weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making, faint and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today, and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army, fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine.
---
I was a little shocked at how much I could relate to this, especially with the goings-on of late. My path is rocky right now, yes, but this knowledge: that I am God's, that He knows I am His, even when I don't know---this is what will carry me through these times.
---
Who am I? They often tell me I would step from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly, like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell me I would talk to my warden freely and friendly and clearly, as though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me I would bear the days of misfortune equably, smilingly, proudly, like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really all that which other men tell of, or am I only what I know of myself, restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat, yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds, thirsting for
words of kindness, for neighborliness, trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation, tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance, weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making, faint and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today, and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army, fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine.
---
I was a little shocked at how much I could relate to this, especially with the goings-on of late. My path is rocky right now, yes, but this knowledge: that I am God's, that He knows I am His, even when I don't know---this is what will carry me through these times.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
here we go again
When I turn on my phone the message "here we go again" comes up. I wrote that, of course. What does it tell you? That my life has been mundane, I guess.
Life hasn't really been mundane. My tendency towards depression has kept things interesting. Earlier last week, I was faced with the choice this week to either cut off my relationship with Nate or to work things out. We opted to work things out. I had outside help in coming to this conclusion on my end. I was so exhausted emotionally that I just wanted to call it quits, and then move up north to a cave somewhere, learn how to hunt edible vermin and how build a fire to cook the vermin, pack a few books, and basically not have to put effort into human relationships again. Hermitage sounded ideal. For a few days our relationship died. I think it's been resurrected.
I hung out with Nate for a little while today. I felt a little like Eric Bibb when he sings, "we go together like a porch and a rocking chair." Nate is the medium in which I have experienced much healing. I feel like God is teaching us the same lessons, about leaving room for His plan in our plans. I only sat with Nate for a little while, but was filled with comfort. And joy. And Christmas, I guess. As you see, it's hard to explain. I felt kind of like how I used to feel after entering my house after a week at the campout --that feeling of embracing civilzation after a week in the woods; carpet, flushable toilets, clean sheets, and showers. Today I felt awake to what was around me--the cigarette and coffee smells of the Cafe du Marquis, the feel of Nate's hand, the rumble of conversation around us. We didn't say much, but I just felt so comfortable.
All right, my mind is drifting. I'm having a hard time writing. I guess what I wanted to say most of all was that, outwardly my life seems about as normal as ever right now: no play, no project, just JC Penney, a boyfriend, friends, and Bible studies. But inwardly, woven into all these things are stories to keep me occupied. "The bottom line," my Penney's store manager likes to repeat. The bottom line is, you can take the girl outta drama, but you can't take the drama out of the girl. I guess I can live with that.
Life hasn't really been mundane. My tendency towards depression has kept things interesting. Earlier last week, I was faced with the choice this week to either cut off my relationship with Nate or to work things out. We opted to work things out. I had outside help in coming to this conclusion on my end. I was so exhausted emotionally that I just wanted to call it quits, and then move up north to a cave somewhere, learn how to hunt edible vermin and how build a fire to cook the vermin, pack a few books, and basically not have to put effort into human relationships again. Hermitage sounded ideal. For a few days our relationship died. I think it's been resurrected.
I hung out with Nate for a little while today. I felt a little like Eric Bibb when he sings, "we go together like a porch and a rocking chair." Nate is the medium in which I have experienced much healing. I feel like God is teaching us the same lessons, about leaving room for His plan in our plans. I only sat with Nate for a little while, but was filled with comfort. And joy. And Christmas, I guess. As you see, it's hard to explain. I felt kind of like how I used to feel after entering my house after a week at the campout --that feeling of embracing civilzation after a week in the woods; carpet, flushable toilets, clean sheets, and showers. Today I felt awake to what was around me--the cigarette and coffee smells of the Cafe du Marquis, the feel of Nate's hand, the rumble of conversation around us. We didn't say much, but I just felt so comfortable.
All right, my mind is drifting. I'm having a hard time writing. I guess what I wanted to say most of all was that, outwardly my life seems about as normal as ever right now: no play, no project, just JC Penney, a boyfriend, friends, and Bible studies. But inwardly, woven into all these things are stories to keep me occupied. "The bottom line," my Penney's store manager likes to repeat. The bottom line is, you can take the girl outta drama, but you can't take the drama out of the girl. I guess I can live with that.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Sore Feet
It took me 10 mins to clean off my car this morning, 30 to get to JC Penney's. Instead of growls from those higher than me on the Penney's totem pole, I got applause for showing up at all. I work in the home department, and most of our crew didn't show up for work because of the snow.
My feet hurt; they aren't just sore, they ache all the way to my knees. This ache crawls up my back and neck and behind my eyes and into my brain and then comes out in crabby dialogue with my family. I want a massage. A vacation, rather.
Teacher's don't work during Christmas week--at least, not Christmas Eve. I will tomorrow. My body will be working, but I will be thinking. I'll go through twenty story ideas that will never make it to my fingertips (onto paper, a screen, or even the air outside my head to tell someone, because I work alone now.) Today I started to make up a story in my head, but the story turned into dialogue with old boyfriends. Good Grief. Anyway, I want to be a teacher.
I don't mean to complain, but to document this feeling--this moment of sore feet--because some day I will be a teacher, or something else. Hopefully this will be the last Christmas in Retail, so help me God. And then I can look back and say "Yeah, that sucked. Glad I'm not there any more."
One more day of work, and then I have three days off.
When I got out of the store at 5:05pm today, the sky was bright blue and streaked with pink clouds. I climbed into my salted Stanley car and recognized the sky as a sign that the world outside the department store, the bigger picture, was much more beautiful than the smaller inside world that I occupy for most of my day.
My feet hurt; they aren't just sore, they ache all the way to my knees. This ache crawls up my back and neck and behind my eyes and into my brain and then comes out in crabby dialogue with my family. I want a massage. A vacation, rather.
Teacher's don't work during Christmas week--at least, not Christmas Eve. I will tomorrow. My body will be working, but I will be thinking. I'll go through twenty story ideas that will never make it to my fingertips (onto paper, a screen, or even the air outside my head to tell someone, because I work alone now.) Today I started to make up a story in my head, but the story turned into dialogue with old boyfriends. Good Grief. Anyway, I want to be a teacher.
I don't mean to complain, but to document this feeling--this moment of sore feet--because some day I will be a teacher, or something else. Hopefully this will be the last Christmas in Retail, so help me God. And then I can look back and say "Yeah, that sucked. Glad I'm not there any more."
One more day of work, and then I have three days off.
When I got out of the store at 5:05pm today, the sky was bright blue and streaked with pink clouds. I climbed into my salted Stanley car and recognized the sky as a sign that the world outside the department store, the bigger picture, was much more beautiful than the smaller inside world that I occupy for most of my day.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
To Quote John Garrett...
Today I babysat John Garrett (2 years old) and as soon as I got there he asked me to read him some books. We read one called Corduroy's Christmas Flip the Flap book or something like that, where you flip open the little flaps to reveal the illustrated Christmas joys. On the first page, you had to "open" Corduroy's Christmas decoration boxes and try to find the angel to go on top of the little bear's Christmas tree. As John opened the boxes, he would yell out what they contained:
"Angel!"
"Candy Canes!"
"Vitamins!"
Vitamins?
"No, John, those are ornaments..."
"Ornaments!"
"Angel!"
"Candy Canes!"
"Vitamins!"
Vitamins?
"No, John, those are ornaments..."
"Ornaments!"
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Drawers for Cribs
Yesterday Nate told me that when he was a baby, his parents lived in an apartment, and his room was actually a closet with a dresser. He slept in one of the drawers as a crib. And when he cried his parents would shut the drawer. No, he was kidding about that, but he really did sleep in a drawer.
Monday, December 06, 2004
alive, yes, but tired.
Hello devoted readers... if there are any. Lisa Czapski updated her blog, about a month ago, and has inspired me to write in this thing again, just in case someone checks it.
Last you heard, I was:
1)Going to Switzerland
2)Learning French
3)Tap Dancing
4)Tutoring Korean Kids
5)Applying for a Fulbright
6)Dating Nate
7)Following Jesus
8)Quitting Smoking
Well... Since then I have:
1)Decided not to go to Switzerland
2)Ditched French
3)Stopped Tap Dancing
4)Quit Tutoring
5)Applied for the Fulbright
6)Stayed with Nate
7)Still an adherent, of course (of course? hm. yeah. yes, of course.)
8) Uh...
1)I joined forces with a theater group called Walk and Squawk--the very group that introduced me to my Fulbright Connection in South Africa. I decided that instead of joining them for a month and then saying "Nice to meet you, now I gotta split..." I would stick around. They are doing the exact kinds of work I proposed to do in South Africa. The money I saved up is now going toward a trip to Durban this summer with the group. In January I will start a story collection with them in the Cass Corridor, but right now I am helping put together a Humanities Convening in Detroit for 2006.
2) No more Francais for me. I got busy with other stuff, like I was just in a play called Flowers for Algernon.
3)I hurt my knee, and then I got a job at JC Penneys that sometimes scheduled me during the class (now they schedule me M-F, 5-11am. LORD HELP ME. This is why I'm tired. I have to get up at 4am). I may start up again after the New Year. I'd like to... We'll see.
4)I gave the job to Jenni when she got back from her honeymoon, because I was just too busy with the play and work and babysitting and Walk and Squawk. Gosh I miss those kids though.
5)Done applied already... Now I'm waiting to hear back. I will know if I did not make the first "cut" at the end of January. If I do get the Fulbright, I will be gone from Jan-Nov, 2006. If I don't, I'm applying for Grad School and Moving Out.
6)Yes, of course. Who wouldn't stay with a guy who interrupts you while you're talking to sigh and say, "I love the sound of your voice" ? (HAH, we'll see how long he loves it, because Lord Knows, I can talk.)
7)Yep, still following Jesus, and still learning things about Him.
8) I haven't smoked in a week! Hahahaha.
OTHER NEWS:
9)In February I will be playing Margot in the Jewish Ensemble Theater's annual remount of Diary of Anne Frank
It's probably good that I haven't updated in a while, because I'm sure that many of the blogs would've been chock-full of political acerbity. But don't worry if you feel bad for missing it... I'm pretty sure there will be for more years of my attitude problem documented.
Last you heard, I was:
1)Going to Switzerland
2)Learning French
3)Tap Dancing
4)Tutoring Korean Kids
5)Applying for a Fulbright
6)Dating Nate
7)Following Jesus
8)Quitting Smoking
Well... Since then I have:
1)Decided not to go to Switzerland
2)Ditched French
3)Stopped Tap Dancing
4)Quit Tutoring
5)Applied for the Fulbright
6)Stayed with Nate
7)Still an adherent, of course (of course? hm. yeah. yes, of course.)
8) Uh...
1)I joined forces with a theater group called Walk and Squawk--the very group that introduced me to my Fulbright Connection in South Africa. I decided that instead of joining them for a month and then saying "Nice to meet you, now I gotta split..." I would stick around. They are doing the exact kinds of work I proposed to do in South Africa. The money I saved up is now going toward a trip to Durban this summer with the group. In January I will start a story collection with them in the Cass Corridor, but right now I am helping put together a Humanities Convening in Detroit for 2006.
2) No more Francais for me. I got busy with other stuff, like I was just in a play called Flowers for Algernon.
3)I hurt my knee, and then I got a job at JC Penneys that sometimes scheduled me during the class (now they schedule me M-F, 5-11am. LORD HELP ME. This is why I'm tired. I have to get up at 4am). I may start up again after the New Year. I'd like to... We'll see.
4)I gave the job to Jenni when she got back from her honeymoon, because I was just too busy with the play and work and babysitting and Walk and Squawk. Gosh I miss those kids though.
5)Done applied already... Now I'm waiting to hear back. I will know if I did not make the first "cut" at the end of January. If I do get the Fulbright, I will be gone from Jan-Nov, 2006. If I don't, I'm applying for Grad School and Moving Out.
6)Yes, of course. Who wouldn't stay with a guy who interrupts you while you're talking to sigh and say, "I love the sound of your voice" ? (HAH, we'll see how long he loves it, because Lord Knows, I can talk.)
7)Yep, still following Jesus, and still learning things about Him.
8) I haven't smoked in a week! Hahahaha.
OTHER NEWS:
9)In February I will be playing Margot in the Jewish Ensemble Theater's annual remount of Diary of Anne Frank
It's probably good that I haven't updated in a while, because I'm sure that many of the blogs would've been chock-full of political acerbity. But don't worry if you feel bad for missing it... I'm pretty sure there will be for more years of my attitude problem documented.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Tappa Tappa Tappa
I found Otis.
I googled his name and then found that he was teaching tap at the Motor City Dance Factory. I took one lesson there, but it was too easy, so now I'm in an intermediate class that meets in Otis' basement. That class was almost too hard... But I'm so glad to be tapping again. Hurray, Hurray.
OTHER NEWS:
The Fulbright Application is in. Now whether or not I'm going to South Africa is not in my hands.
I'm in a play. It's called Flowers for Algernon. You may know it--a retarded guy gets a miracle cure and becomes a genius, falls in love with his teacher, visits his parents who don't remember him, and the cure fades out and he goes back to being retarded. I play the teacher. It's at Rosedale Park Players (my neighborhood theater) and goes up before Thanksgiving in November. Let me know if you want to come and I'll keep you posted.
I'm still tutoring and I may start working at JC Penny's. I have an interview on Monday.
That's all folks.
Hop shuffle hop, slap step-step
I googled his name and then found that he was teaching tap at the Motor City Dance Factory. I took one lesson there, but it was too easy, so now I'm in an intermediate class that meets in Otis' basement. That class was almost too hard... But I'm so glad to be tapping again. Hurray, Hurray.
OTHER NEWS:
The Fulbright Application is in. Now whether or not I'm going to South Africa is not in my hands.
I'm in a play. It's called Flowers for Algernon. You may know it--a retarded guy gets a miracle cure and becomes a genius, falls in love with his teacher, visits his parents who don't remember him, and the cure fades out and he goes back to being retarded. I play the teacher. It's at Rosedale Park Players (my neighborhood theater) and goes up before Thanksgiving in November. Let me know if you want to come and I'll keep you posted.
I'm still tutoring and I may start working at JC Penny's. I have an interview on Monday.
That's all folks.
Hop shuffle hop, slap step-step
Saturday, September 11, 2004
___________ and Chocolate Milk
I went to Chicago last weekend with Nate. We quit smoking together while we were there, gradually weaning ourselves of the cigarettes. I haven't smoked since Tuesday and then I only had half a cigarette. I spent Wednesday and Thursday warding off cravings with gum and I spent Friday with a sore jaw.
I cried once on Thursday night when I was drafting my Fulbright proposal. I couldn't get more than two sentences out and cigarettes are a quick fix for my writer's block. Today I cried again, after I'd spent four hours straight writing another draft and my mother had found tons of mistakes and pointed out that my opening paragraph needed to be re-written (the very paragraph that blocked me into tears on Thursday.)
A couple of my friends call Nate a Sunshine Boy. This means that he is happy--almost never sad. He is enthusiastic and fun, gorgeous and kind and, yep, bery very happy. This compliments my instability and tendency to dip to emotional lows pretty well. But he can't understand why its much harder for me to quit smoking than it is for him. I get frustrated with a paragraph and, without a cigarette, put my head down and try to collect my thoughts. But my thoughts don't collect, they bleed into harsher thoughts and I can't get them to stop, so soon I'm no longer dripping tears of writer's block frustration, but sobbing tears of anguish at what a difficult person I am, at how I am a walking nightmare to anyone who wants to get close to me, at why and how I possibly could have ended up this way.
I told myself that I can sort my thoughts through another means than smoking. Like, playing the guitar and maybe writing a song. ENNNNGH. No. It doesn't work. I still feel like crying and if I start I can't stop. Crying leaves me feeling exhausted and helpless. Smoking leaves me feeling stable and perhaps indifferent. Is this what anti-depressants do?
My parents are downstairs avoiding me like the plague. "Nora's crying, let's get the helloutta here!" My boyfriend and Lisa are going to be here soon, and I'm afraid that when they see my mood they are going to want to run, too.
Anyway, I quit smoking. Aren't you proud?
(I'll write again when I'm feeling more positive... Sorry people.)
I cried once on Thursday night when I was drafting my Fulbright proposal. I couldn't get more than two sentences out and cigarettes are a quick fix for my writer's block. Today I cried again, after I'd spent four hours straight writing another draft and my mother had found tons of mistakes and pointed out that my opening paragraph needed to be re-written (the very paragraph that blocked me into tears on Thursday.)
A couple of my friends call Nate a Sunshine Boy. This means that he is happy--almost never sad. He is enthusiastic and fun, gorgeous and kind and, yep, bery very happy. This compliments my instability and tendency to dip to emotional lows pretty well. But he can't understand why its much harder for me to quit smoking than it is for him. I get frustrated with a paragraph and, without a cigarette, put my head down and try to collect my thoughts. But my thoughts don't collect, they bleed into harsher thoughts and I can't get them to stop, so soon I'm no longer dripping tears of writer's block frustration, but sobbing tears of anguish at what a difficult person I am, at how I am a walking nightmare to anyone who wants to get close to me, at why and how I possibly could have ended up this way.
I told myself that I can sort my thoughts through another means than smoking. Like, playing the guitar and maybe writing a song. ENNNNGH. No. It doesn't work. I still feel like crying and if I start I can't stop. Crying leaves me feeling exhausted and helpless. Smoking leaves me feeling stable and perhaps indifferent. Is this what anti-depressants do?
My parents are downstairs avoiding me like the plague. "Nora's crying, let's get the helloutta here!" My boyfriend and Lisa are going to be here soon, and I'm afraid that when they see my mood they are going to want to run, too.
Anyway, I quit smoking. Aren't you proud?
(I'll write again when I'm feeling more positive... Sorry people.)
