I open the door and shriek a little when I see my neighbors g/f bounding up the stairs. She laughed, because I made her shriek a little before as well when I apparently snuck up on her in the parking lot one morning.
So I was a little discombobulated. I get in my car and head out the front entrance of my apartment complex. I see a van, one of those white windowless vans a la "killers coming to abduct and dismember you" vans. As i drive towards the van (which is parked in the middle of the driving part of the parking lot) it flips on it's brights and starts backing up. So I keep driving towards it. It veers to my right, so I go my left. The van immediately veers to my left as well. When I veer to my right again it stays left and a hand starts waving wildly out the drivers window asking me to stop. :blink:
As if I have NEVER EVER watched a horror movie I stop. I roll my window down. The driver asked me how to find the 11 apartments. We have a ton in this complex, and for example my # is 1103. He kept trying to say 1165 but was pronouncing things wrong and stuttering a lot. So I said, 1165? He said yes that's it! So I said he should keep driving back the way I came from since my apartment number is 1103 :blink: (I'm sorry, did I just tell this strange man in a white windowless van my APARTMENT NUMBER?) He said thanks, and actually tips his hat and drives off towards my apartment.
I drive on my merry little way, and am getting ready to turn left onto Rt 4 when suddenly it hits me. OF COURSE!
Obviously the mans stuttering and confusion was merely a diversionary tactic and there is a KILLER that has somehow climbed into the backseat of my car ( of course without activating the dome light ). While this man is tracing my steps the other man is burgling my apartment and laying in wait for me to come back. Since I ran out so fast, I didn't bring my cell phone. I was on Yahoo IM with Katy before I left, so I can only hope that for SOME reason the burgler in my apartment decides to talk to her, she somehow senses that it's not me and calls the Cincinnati police department to report my imminent demise. I drive slowly there and back, tentatively glancing into the backseat as if I'm looking behind me to change lanes and see nothing...but that doesn't mean anything, these killers are tricky.
I actually end up following a police car down the Swanson shortcut, and hope that he somehow knows that there is a "perp" in my backseat and another one back at my apartment.
So I get home. I get out of my car quickly and slam the door shut. I look into the backseat. Nothing.
I take the stairs up, mentally preparing to shriek as loudly as possible so that my neighbors can hear me over the thumpa thumpa of their music. I slide my key in the door, I turn the lock, I squeak open the door...and I find that all of this is of course the result of my active imagination.
How am I ever going to survive living in a big house, all alone, with a basement. :-\
But sin-why can't we take sin head-on in the church? Why do we whisper about sin, creating layer after layer of shame for those struggling with it? Why are sinners running to self-help groups, reading books by doctors who have never seen a Bible, and logging hours with counselors who charge by the obsession?The last sentence is something that I'm so stoked to say I've been hearing these last few weeks. Back in February (or maybe March) our church did a financial series about when enough money is enough, and what you do with that money, how it affects you, how you deal with it. The series was called Enough, and if you click on that work you can listen to it online (it's very good) Then a few weeks ago a couple that was moved to action by that series went onstage and told their story and how God moved in their lives and they didn't just take a bold step, they took bold leaps and bounds to get their finances under control and move forward into a more stable future. You can watch the video of that day here, I highly highly recommend it.
Our leaders are doing everything they can to guide us into the good life by placating our sinful natures. We need some good old-fashioned butt kicking in the form of honest talk- and not just in the Wednesday night small group. We need it on Sunday mornings in the open, so the people- and there are many of us- enslaved to sin can get up and say, "Thank God someone finally said something!"
Once Paul and Sonya told their story move then 20 families were spurned to act. They are taking steps today, right this minute to get a grip financially. So many people that I've talked to, or overheard talking have said that they were moved during the original series, but they were scared, or didn't think they could do it, or felt a lot of shame in admitting that as grown ups, a lot of them as parents responsible for the life of other human beings, they were failing to manage their money wisely. But when Paul and Sonya got up and said, yes, were felt that way, but we knew it had to change, the people watching felt that hope and they moved.
This isn't really even about finances. This is in general, about things that we all struggle with, things that we keep secret and hidden because they might disintegrate the facade we've so carefully built. This can be about finances yes, but it can also be about porn, lying, promiscuity, masturbation, sexuality, (ok, that was a lot of sex stuff all at once....) integrity, leading well, raising kids, anger, thoughtlessness, hypocrisy, drug or alcohol addiction, pridefulness, greed, and the list goes on and on. Sometimes it just takes one person, just one, to stand up and say that they're scared, that they feel that oppressive shame, but they also know that in the shadows of shame there isn't really any healing. Sometimes it takes someone to call someone else on the carpet. Please, I do not mean some random person. I mean someone that you know, that you love and that you know is struggling with something they keep secret, they keep hidden. Maybe you don't know what it is, but you see the cracks in the facade. Maybe all it takes is for you to sit with them and ask how they are doing, and for you to listen for the real answer, not just the obligatory "I'm fine".
Someone has to be brave enough to fall recklessly in love with loving, loving someone and partnering with them in their life, lifting them up and holding them and living out the heart of Jesus to them even when you don't agree with their choices. Someone has to go first. Jesus didn't agree with sin, but he also didn't feel the need to point it out to every single person he saw sinning....why should we?
Go first, today, tonight, tomorrow. Go love people irrationally and unrestrained.
The only thing keeping sin hidden and shameful accomplishes is assuring that the sinner stays afraid to speak out loud what it is that they are struggling with, they stay suffocated under the burden of thinking, "I got myself into this, I'll get myself out of it" or "I'll just take care of this myself and no one ever has to know I'm a failure in this area of my life".
The truth is, we're all failing at something. We all sin, we probably even did it today. We all have something we cover in darkness and shame. That doesn't make us alone in our failures, alone in our sin and our shame, that should tie us together, connect us in the need for a God that desires our redemption, our reconciliation, our salvation.
Have addicted to an emotion? Because sometimes I do. Sometimes I am slave to my emotions and how they run rampant in my head. I confuse these irrational and often inappropriate emotions for the way that it really is, and I not only don't reign in these emotions, I stoke them. I stoke them with sad songs, with ruminations on conversations long (sometimes years) over with. I curl up around pain. anger, depression and hold on for dear life because there is a certain orgasmic thrill out of being so damn down.
Don't get me wrong, there are many times that I feel grief, despair, sadness etc that are real. But it's like I magnify them sometimes. Maybe when I find myself thinking about JCWC that's not a good time to listen to Damien Rice. Maybe when I find myself missing DLC I shouldn't listen to that Green Day song that carries her memory in it's chorus. There are definitely things I do to exacerbate whatever emotion I'm having at the moment. Another example, when I'm angry, maybe that's not the best time to listen to Prodigy or Nine Inch Nails.
It all seems so clear in the rational light of day.
But in the moment, I'm hooked on the feeling. Those feelings that get my creative juices flowing, that cause me to write these ridiculously despondent things that cause several of you to come running and love on me. It's as if I don't trust you'll love on me if I'm just ok.
There's just something so seductive about crisis mode.
I was sitting in church today during worship, and I was thinking about all this while trying to worship...but I wasn't feeling it. Then I started down that rabbit hole of what that even meant, and what on earth that had to do with praising a God that is an amazing and mighty God whether I think so or not.
I think about those times when I feel God near me, so near that I could reach out and actually touch him. The hidden thought behind that seems to be so often, that when I don't feel God near me, that must mean he's not near to me. Those time I feel God near it's easier to be obedient to him, it's easier for me to not trip up, for me to avoid temptation, to not sin so blatantly. Why? Is it because I feel like he's watching me so I better shape up? As if shaping up ever had anything to do with God lavishing grace on any of us.
What does any of this mean? That I should stop feeling things, probably not. That I should ignore the feelings I have and think they are all a bundle of lies and manipulations, unlikely.
Maybe it means something different for us all, but I think for me it means starting to consciously pay attention to the fuel I throw on my emotional fire, because honestly it's just exhausting sometimes.
Watching Open Country is questionable because of a few scenes that involve a lynch mob staring in the window during a thunderstorm at night.
I'm a big scaredy cat. Yet I think things like locking the bedroom door will keep me safe from the killers.
I slept in, showered, and now am contemplating being productive. But instead I'm typing on here and watching MISTER ROGERS.
I LOVE Mister Rogers. It makes me calm to watch him. Today he is showing a documentary of how to make balloons.
I'm running out of stuff to pack. Maybe I'll pare down my kitchen cabinets and pack up some of that today. It's definitely about to be clean sheet day (I love clean sheet day!)
Sharen, Jeff, Doug and I are embroiled in a blood feud over Skip-Bo. It was an agonizing defeat last night as Jeff and I went head to head, each with only a 6 left in our draw pile. When Jeff won he literally stood up and threw his chair over in triumph and he and Doug high-fived. Oh silly boys.
Ok, that balloon documentary was really cool. How can PBS even consider taking Mister Rogers off TV?!
You can have my heart
Though it isn't new
It's been used and broken
And only comes in blue
It's been down a long road
And it got dirty on the way
If I give it to you will you make it clean
And wash the shame away
You can have my heart
If you don't mind broken things
You can have my life if you don't mind these tears
Well I heard that you make old things new
So I give these pieces all to you
If you want it you can have my heart
So beyond repair
Nothing I could do
I tried to fix it myself
But it was only worse when I got through
Then you walked into my darkness
And you speak words so sweet
And you hold me like a child
Till my frozen tears fall at your feet
I will not visit iTunes
I will not visit iTunes
I will not visit iTunes
I will not visit iTunes
I will not visit iTunes
I will not visit iTunes
I will not visit iTunes
I will not visit iTunes
I could easily spend thousands of dollars there, and I just don't have that cash laying around right now.
- First: What is a difficult or troubling situation in your life?
- Second: What payoffs or benefits do you get for keeping it like it is?
- Third: What cost do you pay for keeping it like it is?
- Fourth: How do you create, promote, or allow it to be the way it is?
- Fifth: What do you pretend not to know?
- Sixth: What do you want?
- Seventh: What actions can you take/requests can you make to get this done?
- Eighth: When will you do this?
There are some days that I expend all my energy not answering these questions.
Also, I'm pretty sure the neighbors are smoking weed and trying to disguise it as a camp fire. Because it smells like weed with some camp fire intermingled. Ugh, I detest pot.
I read a quote, no strike that, I heard a phrase on Heroes (my new obsession, this power outage is stealing precious catch up time...season three starts in a week!) and it has been running through my head ever since.
You aren't looking for redemption, you're looking for ignorance.Redemption: atonement for guilt
Sometimes it's easier to be ignorant. Sometimes I really wish that I just didn't know things, or about things. I wish I wouldn't have seen things and experienced things. Because sometimes these things get all tangled up in my head and I can't seem to focus on other things.
I haven't really processed what it is exactly I'm trying to say....but sometimes when I should be asking for forgiveness, or redemption, what I'm really praying for is ignorance.
Most of all there are so many things I haven't heard. You see, I'm a class A eavesdropper. It served me well, I was proficient and stealth about it. I integrated it so deeply into my everyday behavior that I do it to this day without even thinking about it.
When I was a child, heck, even now when I'm an adult, I hear bits and pieces of things and I don't get the whole story. So I fill in the blanks, I add things on, I draw my own conclusions.
Sometimes, I'm right. Sometimes I'm not.
My gut instinct when I hear things is to adapt, quickly. I hear things that might have to do with what this person likes in a girl, or what that person respects in another and I immediately take that to mean that I'm not those things. That those things are the sum total of who I should be.
Sometimes it's like a drug, or even like being drunk on changing, adapting.
I don't know I'm rambling, to much quiet I suppose without all the power.
Someone that I love was loud and boisterous yesterday. I realize that I can be that way too, but the setting we were in was one in which I very desperately try to fly below the radar. Not often, but occasionally, it seems physically painful to be seen, to be noticed, because I feel so less then, so not enough.
I don't know what it all means, I don't really know how to completely move past this. I know that it's better then before, I know that it gets better all the time...I'm just impatiently waiting for it to be all gone.
There were winds up to 60 MPH the majority of the afternoon Sunday. So I've charged my phone and laptop at a friends that has electricity and other then that I'm buttoned down waiting for power.
Without electricity it's so quiet, and I'm getting a lot of reading done. I helped a friend with filing and now am ready for a nap. (And one of those JTM hamburgers I took to Sharens....mmmmm)
I have a few things to say, hopefully my battery will hold out long enough for me to crawl up on my soapbox.
1: I finally got that swiss cake roll
2: I'm not really in the right frame of mind to do this tag game
3: All I really wanted was for someone to tell me I was beautiful, however those weren't the words that were said.
4: Sometimes I feel so lost
5: Big Boy in Norwood serves breakfast all day now, just in case you didn't know Lori
6: I can't wait to go bed shopping Sunday!
7: I've started the 2nd season of Heroes and I'll be prepped and ready for the 3rd season on 9/22!
8: Biggest Loser premiers 9/16!
9: I should be going to bed, early meeting. But instead I think I'll watch another episode of Heroes
10: Sometimes, a girl just needs someone to believe in her...and actually verbalize that belief to her on a regular basis. Sometimes she forgets.
Flung like an afterthought, with a pat on the knee
Five words, confirming the slimy thoughts slithering around my shattered heart.
(you're not enough, you're not beautiful, you're not worthy, you're nothing, nothing, nothing)
Five words that scream like a banshee from my own head, there is really no need for you to say them to me.
These words spoken have drowned out the four words I read last week that had me floating. These words drown out the spirit whispering in my ear.
I know. It doesn't help that it's the truth, these five words. This truth doesn't assuage the grief hearing it causes.
I know which words to listen to, and yet I turn from the lovely healing words and run hard and fast into the words the tear me apart and break me down.
Five words, curl my heart into a fist and rise up the anger that falsely comforts me. Five words tempt me to color the world black and close myself, shut off tight.
I'm holding on, as tight as I can, to the four words. The four words that are salve to my sliced open heart. I hope. I hope that I can continue to choose the good not the bad; the four words not the five.
OK, we're all professionals, we all know how to play the blog game. Read it, write your own, tag some people and tell them to read your blog!
1: I came home early from work today and slept for 4 hours straight. I feel like my brain has finally moved back into my head because of it
2: I have some unprocessed thoughts about doing love not just feeling it in my head, and no idea how to get them out
3: I am shamelessly and unapologetically addicted to the new 90210. It's only the 2nd episode, but it's good.
4: 30 days from today I will have the keys to my new house and will have spent the majority of the afternoon steam cleaning the upstairs carpets
5: I could physically harm someone for a swiss cake roll right now, but I'm refusing to drive to Meijer for some.
6: I have actual conversations with my cats. I'm also considering getting a rocker and taking up crocheting to complete the crazy old lady stereotype trifecta,
7: Peter Petrelli on Heroes is H.O.T. Yum
8: Sometimes I still think about it
9: I am absolutely terrified about owning a home, but I think it will be ok
10: My church turns 4 this weekend. If you're in Cincinnati come visit us.
We tend to wrongly equate "love" with "having a warm feeling toward." Jesus' teaching, however, defines love actively. It is not so much how you feel about a certain person but what you do for that person that shows love (Luke 10: 25-37). The biblical command is to do love, not to feel love.
- How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth- Fee, Stuart
The thing is, the seller was there, the wife specifically. That really hacked my inspector off, because he said it was our time to pick apart the house and see if it was worth buying and she was getting in the way. She also was lamenting how much she didn't want to move, because she loved the house and it was there first house, they don't have anywhere to live yet, they're going to be homeless blah blah blah. She said, everyday I hope this deal falls through so I can stay in my house, even though we've so outgrown it, but my husband is set on moving...
Whatever, no big deal.
Later Brian (the inspector) said he overheard the seller on the phone talking to her husband about the THREE houses they were interested in and trying to decide which house to put an offer in on. Plus, the pool table had already been taken apart, the pool emptied and was about to be taken down and the garage was filled with packed boxes where there previously were none.
Today as I'm going over what we want on the addendum which includes 2 things we want them to fix and 1 we want them to give us the money to fix I start thinking about how hard I drove the price down from their original asking price ($10k below what they listed it for). Later my realtor calls and tells me that he was going over with their realtor what I was listing on the addendum and that we would have it to her by first thing tomorrow morning when their realtor started talking about their "cold feet". Oh, their realtor is worried because they seem to be wavering and not wanting to sell, oh the wife just doesn't want to leave at all, they're not sure anymore so don't be surprised if they aren't willing to fix those things on the addendum.
So I tell my realtor that it sounds to me like they're playing a game and hoping that I back off of my pushiness on pricing and other monetary issues because they've already disclosed they'll be short selling if they go lower. I tell him that it seems to me like they're trying to play a pity card and see how much I want this house. "Oh...yeah yeah yeah, that sounds about right, huh" my realtor replies.
I then tell my realtor as clearly as possible that while I love this house, while I feel at home in this house, while I want this house so so bad I am FULLY prepared to completely walk away if they don't meet my demands on the addendum. I told him that I had some negotiation that I was willing to do and that was it, after that I wash my hands and rent an apartment and start looking again. I told my realtor that he could feel free to pass that message along to the sellers realtor since she felt free to tell him how "shaky the sale might be"
I don't like getting the feeling that people are manipulating my emotions because they see some young single woman that has to ask Daddy or some other man questions to make sure everything is ok. I ask my father and brother in law and other men (and women) questions because I realize that I don't know everything and they have bought houses before and I have not. I ask them because I respect their opinions, which doesn't mean I will take it. Not to mention that my realtor is pretty invested in selling this house for his commission, but that isn't going to happen at the expense of my mortgage payment.
I have a line, we're fast approaching it. I will go to the line and not a step on or over it.
I was flipping through the pages and kept seeing the same name pop up and realized that a good deal of that book had entries directly about or in relation to the same person. My dear friend Jake.
To spare us all the reliving of that time to sum it up would be that Jake and I were friends, then we were more, then we were way less then friends, then we were cautious friends, then we didn't talk, and now we're dear friends and I love him so very much.
The first entry in which he was named Jake approached the boy I was "dating" at the time and threatened to "kick his ass" if he hurt me in some way. I was aghast that he would have done that because he was this guy that I knew but didn't really know know at the time (ahhh high school). It continued through when he asked me to prom and I realized that he like liked me not just liked me (seriously, I wrote those ACTUAL words) I wrote about his mom not wanting us to date and how my sister and several grades of band geeks were intertwined in our drama in ways that only marching band members can be. I wrote (in detail) about "achoo bless you" and my 16 year old realization that putting people on pedestals is never wise. Falling from that pedestal doesn't only hurt the person that tumbles down, but the person that placed them up there in the first place.
I wrote of my completely irrational reaction to junk that had absolutely nothing to do with me, I wrote of the secrets I kept from him about another boy from another time and another part of my life. I wrote about the horrible way I pushed him aside for someone who turned out to be cruel and destructive. I wrote about the icy reception I received from someone I still loved so much and I wrote about the mistake it was quickly becoming apparent I had made.
I wrote about the things this other boy said and implied, the things that happened, the way the only person I really wanted to talk to about it was Jake because I remembered a Jake that told a boy once he would "kick his ass" if he ever hurt me, and this other boy hurt me. But I wrote about how I couldn't do that, because Jake wouldn't talk to me, my fault really.
As I was laying here, trying to fall asleep for the last several hours (curses!) and thinking about the good, bad, and ugly that happened between Jake and I, I kept thinking about those shared histories we have. Jake has a lot of my history, I have his. Everyday the words we say, the secrets we keep or reveal, the actions we take are creating a history with people we're in a relationship with. I have had at least 3 other diaries (although I call them journals now, because apparently that's more grown up) since then, and they're floating around here somewhere. I think about all those memories, and I think about the sweet spot of a friendship that Jake and I have now, albeit a long distance one since we're at opposite ends of the state...and I just think how much I love Jake, and I love that we're friends.
After we settled into our (SEPARATE) beds for the night at about 130 I was tuckered out. Sunday we went to 2nd service and chatted with some people. Deano seemed to have a good time, as always the talk sparked a great conversation at lunch after church. I love that people at my church are so friendly and welcoming...and I love best of all that it's not an act, it's a genuine love of people.
Lunch was at Panera, outside which I loved. We talked about the sermon, but also daydreamed about a time that will hopefully come soon. We also plotted out my new house and daydreamed about what it's going to be like when I'm actually in there (6 weeks!) Naturally after lunch we drove by the new house and oohed and ahhed over it. On the way back to my house we drove past an open house and decided on a whim to look around. Oh, how hilarious.
First of all, the realtor ONLY spoke to Deano. Because apparently women are to daff to understand things like: stamped concrete, central air, and new carpeting. Deano and I have decided that we're doing that more often, but we will have code names and explain the reason we're looking for a house is because of our growing family (or that we need a CIA safe house, but that could just be the 4 hours of Alias I watched today talking)
Finally, we went back to my house and started the arduous task of organizing, cleaning and packing up my apartment. In 3 hours we managed to collect, organize/discard when appropriate, and file all of my paperwork. I also cleaned out and organized my desk drawers. Yes, that's it in 3hours. That's how pathetic my personal organization skills have become. I have such hope for the new house, something about a clean slate and all that jazz.
Sunday night it was out to le jardin Olive for dinner with Tony and his g/f Sarah...yummy and I have leftovers for lunch tomorrow! Afterwards we went to putt-putt, where I subsequently got my ass kicked by all three of them, but it was fun and it was lovely to see Deano so relaxed and having a good time, especially after the last few weeks he's had.
On the way home from putt-putt Deano and I stopped for ice cream, then when we were heading back to my place on John Gray I passed a catholic festival complete with carnival rides, beer and gambling tents and FUNNEL CAKES!
So on a whim we stopped to people watch and of course, eat a funnel cake. I saw a grandma-type person complete with a cane (one with the four legs at the bottom) holding tightly in her fist a chill miller lite wearing a shirt that said "Real women drink beer". I wanted to take her picture, but I was afraid she would hit me with her cane, which Deano said was probably filled with beer.
Monday we slept, well Deano slept in until 11 and I was up around 9, in a little and then got to work packing up some stuff. Deano packed up all my books, I packed some knick knacks and further picked up and organized the little piles that have grown into one giant pile. Around 2 we headed to Sharen's for the yummiest cook in that I've had in awhile. Italian marinated chicken, corn on the cob, strawberries, homemade banana bread, pasta salad...mmmmmm. Then Deano helped me schlep all my laundry back to my house and carry it in (6 weeks and counting until I can do laundry in my own laundry room!) We spend the next few hours putting away my laundry and excavating my bedroom floor from the pile of clothes, sheets, towels, and general crap that was on it. Deano had to head home, so I plugged in some final season of Alias and packed up my massive amount of purses and random bags. They filled one large box. (I'm seriously becoming my mom)
But the good news is....while packing the purses I found a TWENTY that I had left in the purse from my trip to Portland almost exactly 1 year ago today. Gah!
Great weekend, lots of laughter and good friends. Now I can't sleep. It's 1 am and I'm wide awake. Thank goodness Conan has great guests tonight!