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| 11.11.05 (8:45 pm) [edit] |
God, I love him so much.
How the heck did this happen? All he does is call every night and ask me how I'm doing. He only comes over every now and then to study--and really, just to study. No really: he won't do anything but study. And all I really do is pour him some water and kill some homework while he's over.
But somehow, more and more, I just can't wait to talk to him. I'm dying to see him, almost always. And he never, ever asks anything of me that I'm not comfortable with. He allows me to be confused. When I'm nervous and can't think of anything to say, he won't pressure me.
He's never done anything at all to make him stand out to me before, which is probably why I'd never noticed him--but he's consistent, cautious, and selective with his words. He's shy, but he really tries. Even now, I'm still amazed that he had the courage to pursue me this intentionally AND patiently. I just keep noticing more and more about him that I love. Really...
How did this happen again? But I thank my God...
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| Mirrors. |
| 11.10.05 (7:29 pm) [edit] |
It's amazing how much you can know about someone you don't actually know that well. My boyfriend, for instance, is still a guy I've only really known for six months or so, and we've only been dating for a couple weeks. But somehow, every once in a while, I think you catch a prophetic glimpse of what they dream, and what they can and should become.
I've never confessed to anyone, for instance, how serious I am about acting. But the minute we go anywhere near the subject, he immediately seems to sharpen and interjects, "So you want to act?" Or, if I mention MFA programs in theatre, he asks, "For acting?" ...Like he knows, somehow. Even tonight, as we talked about campus theatre over the phone, he suddenly said, "That's funny, because I can totally see you acting."
Of course the details seem incidental, now that I write this. But I also knew, the moment he said he wanted to add a Bible/theology minor, that it was absolutely right for him. I don't know how, but I just knew--the way you know a pebble in your shoe, or a ladybug on your leg... Maybe it means something. Maybe not.
But my father also seems to believe I have a future in acting--he actually encourages me to pursue it. This, from the father who still doesn't like the fact that I attend a private Christian liberal arts college with less than fifty majors to choose from; the father who thinks I'll never get a real job with an English degree. Really--don't ask me what happened there.
Another friend of mine here on campus, who previously studied acting at an art school in Minnesota, also seems to have a lot of faith in my ability--though she's never seen me act. She just seems to know, and pushes me to tryout with her for different stints, never being quite sure herself why she does it.
It's a mystery. But I'll try not to think too hard. Tomorrow morning is another egg waiting to be fried.
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| Speak to me. |
| 11.08.05 (7:15 pm) [edit] |
"They had simply been baptized into the name of the Holy Spirit."
I'm listening to a RealPlayer stream of (Pastor?) Tom Brown--whoever that is. I Googled "gift of prophecy" for insight. But I want to know about tongues--the gift that supposedly died out some generations after the original Pentecost.
I've just finished frying another jio-tsai he-tze. A Chinese, chive and scrambled egg Hot Pocket. I've finished the orange juice, too. After talking it out with my vanity, I've decided that I'd rather be chubby than hungry. Though if there's a way to have my cake and eat it too, the kingdom of heaven has finally reached its eschaton.
It's 11:44 PM. Two hours ago, I cried in front of my professor again. Again, she patiently listened and encouraged. I could have thrown my head through the blackboard. She walked me outside.
The parking lot is black, but so is everything else, slick with rain. I look across the parking lot painted by yellow streaks of running industrial light. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Mine will be diagonal, too. Dr. Stepanek says more and hugs my face. I'm glad I've got an undershirt. I tell God so, now that I am warm and fed.
But between the parking lot, the railroad crossing on the hill, and that small strip of college apartments by the Prairie Path, I open my mouth to the air and moan something to the sky, or God--lips, teeth, tip of the tongue. I wish I could tell the difference.
"How am I supposed to--" begins and ends in indefinite suspension. I said something satisfactorily dramatic. I told God I was glad that it was wet outside, or else I would feel guilty crying. I hoped no one was getting in or out of his car. Closer to the hill, I laughed and talked some more--threw some darts at the targetboard of something old--feeling young and essentially disposable. I wish those trees would grow some leaves.
The train tracks remind me of that manic-depressed girl who tried to end herself here last year. I try not to remember talking to her about recovery beforehand.
Soul-searing.
I'm pretty sure Ita Fischer coined that term. What does it mean? But I already know--and I would have, still, even if I hadn't gone to Career Services for pizza night.
Mom speaks in tongues. I do too--last I checked. I won't speak for anyone usually, since I still haven't decided whether or not I believe that I have it--or if anyone really has it, for that matter, whatever it is. But I suppose I don't have to understand a gun in order to own one.
I bought shunDi's first full album release today. May it be the first of many inspired and impactful collections to come.
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| Falling... |
| 11.05.05 (6:29 pm) [edit] |
I love him.
...But I'm just so afraid he might turn out to be like either my father or brother. -_-; What can you do...
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| Fluctuation |
| 10.27.05 (4:34 pm) [edit] |
And, once again, I'm slightly confused.
I'll need to talk to him again soon. He really is thinking seriously about me, but still without knowing the real me, I think. How can he be willing to commit so soon? Or maybe, I'm just the cold-footed one. I'm not sure how much I like him. Either way, I need to tell him how I feel.
*sigh*
I need more time. For everything.
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| Underestimating? Or over? |
| 10.27.05 (5:35 am) [edit] |
After my class the other morning, I walked out to the hallway and saw him standing there, waiting with a friend. The friend clapped him on the back and left, and I was left alone with... him. I had a feeling I knew what he wanted to talk about, but I was touched all the same. I asked how he'd found me. He said he'd asked the department secretary, and figured it would be one of these three classrooms.
Then he told me again how he was sorry about what had happened the other night. I felt like something melted a little inside of me. I was... happy? Thankful? Touched? All of those things, I suppose. So I told it that it was okay, and that I was just a sensitive person in general. Really, I was still reeling on the fact that he'd actually considered his words seriously from before and seemed to be genuinely apologetic. And he went through the trouble of coming to find me, even though he had no morning class. And he's terribly shy, so I can't imagine how embarrassing it might have been for him to ask the department secretary where Brit Lit was taking place.
Anyway, all that is to say... I think I may have underestimated him, after all.
:)
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| Dear God |
| 10.25.05 (6:49 pm) [edit] |
I don't understand a lot about myself, but I feel like the more I get to know the ones I want to get to know, the more I see things in myself that I don't want to see. For instance... I see that I am actually more complicated, more sensitive, and more full of emotional baggage than I thought I knew myself to be already.
I just started dating a guy who has been interested in me for a while now. But tonight, when he inadvertently said some pretty hurtful things, I was already getting ready to fly--like, "Oh no... maybe it won't work out, after all."
I've barely been dating him for twenty-four hours! Then again, dear reader, have mercy: this is my first dating relationship. And I'm ridiculously sensitive. Blame it on the droppeddaughter-ness.
But, after I told these things to my roommate, she told me, "Hey! You should be telling him this. These are legitimate concerns you need to talk about." And so I did. I called him up, just around the time he was climbing into bed, and told him that I was hurt about a thing or two... and he actually seemed to understand. He was like, "Oh... I'm sorry. Wow, yeah... I didn't even think about that..."
So I'm a little more at ease now. But I'm still dreadfully flighty. I am confrontational, but I'm also afraid of conflict with the ones I care most about. But no relationship can last or go anywhere without honesty. I just don't know if I'm strong enough... or maybe it's not so much a matter of being strong as just choosing to stay committed.
Committed. There's a word we don't hear so much these days.
But I don't want to turn this into a melodramatic complaint about society. All I'm trying to release from my gut is really... whatever I'm honestly feeling. I know the rules--I know how most things are supposed to work. I work well with theory and analysis. But it's so different, so much more challenging to look someone in the eye and think, "I like you... but I'm not sure why." There's just no roadmap except, in general, to love God and man. But man, that's a whole lot of lee-way.
I'm afraid to let him know. I'm really scared about his finding out the fearful parts of me, and just how vulnerable I really am. I'm afraid to be that honest. But at the same time, if I have to compromise my integrity just to maintain a relationship with him, then I'll know it's not good to remain in it.
But he hasn't given me that cause yet. He's actually just a guileless guy who like things to be simple. But, stupid me, I keep trying to read into everything. Like when he said, "I think... our conversations were more fun before we started dating." I knew then, as now, that he was just trying to be funny. But it was definitely a "My Stupid Mouth" moment. It was unkind, even inadvertently, and I was hurt because I felt as if he was attacking me for being uninteresting. The fact was, I couldn't think of anything to say because I was physically and emotionally tired, and still getting used to the idea of dating him.
And then, to follow up, he said, "Yeah... it better not be like this, like... from now on." Still smiling, still trying to be funny... I tried to play along like it was funny, but I was really hurt. Even if I conceptually understood that he was only trying to make conversation, I felt (and my feelings are terribly strong) that he was making some sort of subconscious threat: that if I couldn't continue being as interesting as I was before we started officially dating, that he would be ready to drop me like a hat.
Then, he started pointing out the awkward silences. I felt okay with them, actually, but I guess he didn't, and so he said, "I hate awkward silences." Again, I felt responsible--maybe because I'm the kind of person who is so desperate for harmony and amends that I always react to trouble by trying to honestly assess if it's actually my fault. And so I felt like, in this case, it was my fault for not carrying the conversation like I usually do. Again, I got the sense that he was having second thoughts about dating me, even though, when I called him after that, he really seemed to genuinely appreciate my honesty.
Ahh... such a mess. Not him, really, but me. Again, I feel guilty, as if he has no idea what he's getting into by dating me. Have I been advertising myself falsely as Miss I'm-so-much-fun Girl? I honestly just wanted to make him laugh, and so, when I was with him, I found myself being more outgoing and silly. So I don't think I was being misleading before he asked me out. I mean, it's not like I'm a monster, but I'm incredibly sensitive and emotionally driven. So when I'm down, I'm pretty down. I still try my best to be amicable and communicative, but sometimes, it's so hard I just stop functioning.
Dear God. Please help me to love. I just don't have the strength, if love is truly love.
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| There is a God. |
| 09.11.05 (1:25 pm) [edit] |
God must be out there somewhere. Because I've just freaking realized something I wish I'd always known all along:
Love--it's not so much wanting to be loved by someone special. It's when your heart hits the floor and you realize that you just want to be so good for that extraordinarily ordinary fellow, and you still can't write a thesis why.
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| BFF |
| 09.07.05 (10:48 am) [edit] |
Why do I always think I've ultimately got it together?
...My friends are always so much stonger than I give them credit for.
Wishing for much love, and more humility,
- droppeddaughter
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| Your Stupid Mouth: thanks for playing; try again. |
| 09.06.05 (12:15 pm) [edit] |
I'm not usually into the whole vengeance scene, but oh my freaking, lower-case diety...
It feels really good to hang back up on an absurdly insensitive boy in need of some serious schooling in the Department of Common Courtesy.
Freaking School of Hard Knocks. I hope you heard that click.
That is all.
Thank you.
- the one and only droppedwhosawhat...?!
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| Psalm Writing Workshop? |
| 08.29.05 (1:01 pm) [edit] |
So our anonymous undergraduate college is offering a Psalm Writing Workshop for this first half of a semester. ENG 333.
I found out about at the beginning of the year, through mail. I wondered who'd sent it to me, but since my advisor is also the instructor for this course, I'm about 90% sure that she sent the notice. My knee-jerk reaction was, "Are you kidding? What the heck kind of course is that? And who would take it?"
Of course, that's why there are suckers like me. Oh well...
(Just signed up for it yesterday.)
Here's to the start of a brand new academic year.
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| Hello, my name is Static Victim and I've got maaaad, punk-magnet skillzZz. |
| 08.13.05 (1:20 pm) [edit] |
I almost cried at "March of the Penguins."
So I took a few minutes off this afternoon to reflect on my life thus far, as we all do at some point or another, and I've come to realize how extraordinary I am at attracting all manner of vampire. Predatory, accidental, incidental... you name it. I was born with neon lights on my head that read, "Please, take advantage of me in any way possible." It's almost more reliable than my federal loan servicer.
So I angst from time to time. I brood, I angst some more... and maybe, going along in all this angsty business, I emit masochist pheromones to every sadist shark within the 100-mile radius. Maybe self-conscious insecurity brings out the worst in everyone. I'm not sure, really. Ask an expert.
Like those guys who filmed "March of the Penguins," for instance. We went to see "March of the Penguins" this afternoon--my family, minus a brother. I liked seeing the purity of an atmosphere frozen and far-removed from the rest of the world. I was unexpectedly moved by the selflessness and perseverence of creatures either too stupid or too brilliant to assess the cost-benefit of it all. They risk everything just to keep on giving, and under ridiculously harsh conditions. And some of them lose out. But they 'march on' anyway. Is it really one survival instinct over the other, or are they just otherworldly?
So I wonder if becoming a penguin is a step-up or step-down on the karmic scale?
Here's to bleeding anonymously in the Ocean.
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