Hide & Seek

Lately, at work, and in life generally, I've been feeling like I'm playing hide and seek with my calling.

You see, there are things I know I want. Things I want to do. Causes and passions I'll gladly work for. Often, I've felt like I wasn't allowed. Like someone kept putting a bushel over this little light of mine - this passion, skill set, and determination. The hopes and dreams I silently and not so silently harbor. I've been deflected - doing other good, light-filled work, but it always feels like it's distinctly someone else's light I was keeping lit - not mine.

And  there are moments for that. Moments where it is absolutely God's calling to hold up someone else's arms in their calling. It's a hard path though. It's humbling and confusing to be told to wait when your heart beats for a different piece of things. It's hard to watch others do and only observe. It's hard to cheer on those who seem to be acting just as you want to act. It's hard to watch things done differently than you'd do them. It's important though.

Early this week, I felt that way still. Holding up someone's arms. Watching others do. Doing the other good, necessary things dutifully and without passion. There were moments it felt like I'd gotten just close enough to something that I knew just what needed to be done and yet, I wasn't allowed to do it. Be still my panicked heart. How it aches to see just what to do and be delayed.

Today, I realized I was getting to do some of it. In the span of a week, I'd somehow landed in the middle of things. Just where I wanted to be. And then I realized that there were quickly coming moments where I might have to fly solo. Be still my panicked heart. How it aches to hold responsibility in my hands. All is so fragile.

I feel as if I've run at marathon pace to be in this place, at these times, for quite some time. And now, as I stand face to face with it, I want to turn around and run the other way. Has running just become habit? Am I literally trying, after seeking for so long, to become one of those hiding?  As any savvy 4 year old knows, you can't change your role midway through the game. So why the instinct to hide or run?

Why? Well, you know, fear mostly. Good old fashioned haunting fear. Fear that I'll fail. Fear that I'll cause harm instead of bringing hope. Fear that I am wrong about everything. Fear that the little I know is far too little to act. Fear that failure to act ensures failure. Even a ridiculous fear of the fear itself. If I'm afraid is that a sign to pause or just fear I should push through?

I think I'm here for a reason though. I think if my heart has beat for it all for so long, I probably shouldn't ignore it and run away. So, I'm going to try and see through the fear back to the calling. I'm going to try to keep running towards what I care about instead of making a panicked about-face. There is a larger life lesson in it all, but right this minute all I can see is the many immediate, intimidating tasks. In Disney wisdom, I'll "keep moving forward". One task at a time until it feels like the most natural thing in the world to do just what my heart beats for. I think that's at least part of the point of having a beating heart isn't it?

Here goes... Lord, order my steps.

I can do anything you can do better!

I remember a middle school confidence that girls were better than boys. We could do anything better. In retrospect, we actually were a crowd of bright, sweet, fierce little girls. I actually like us even more now than I did then. God bless the adults who let us believe we were much cooler than our awkward, mouthy, middle school realities. I mean, don't get me wrong, we were plenty self conscious - me, especially. That's what you do in those years. We were just confident we were better than the boys. Also, there were more of us than the boys. It made domination seem more inevitable. Poor boys, we may have (definitely...) been obnoxious. They held their own in good will obnoxiousness though. Don't feel too bad for the boys.

This middle school confidence, I've been thinking about it lately, because over the last 6 weeks or so I've had several conversations about gender differences. Questions at events, bible studies, global protection issues. It has left my mind puzzling over things I've rarely cared much about since I got distracted from that middle school confidence in my superiority.

Gender inequity was something I read about in high school history books, but rarely gave a second thought to in my day-to-day. And then in college there were the women's studies' girls - ahem - WOMEN. They would occasionally try to tell me  that I was both superior and oppressed, which I always found just a bit counter-intuitive. Some of them were reasonable, interesting girls, but mostly they were angry and I felt more oppressed in their ranting presence than I did by the guys who mostly just rolled their eyes and let them speak their enthusiastic mind. (How oppressive...)

Since then, I've noticed the differences a bit more, but I'm not drowned in them. I've noticed that although I'm in a female dominated child welfare workforce, somehow men often find their way to leadership first. I've noticed that men doing similar work sometimes make more money. I've noticed that tasks assigned to female friends are sometimes ridiculously stereotyped and yet nobody ever carries the water tank up from the basement, hangs anything on my dang walls for me or otherwise gets me out of those tasks I'd like to stereotype off on some big, strong man. Still though, mostly what I see is not too brutal.

I don't mean to make light of the larger topic at all. I know there are sincere concerns still faced and have, very occasionally, felt like I got slighted for my gender. And my limited understanding of the extreme inequity faced around the world makes me want to wear black and go back and have those college girls teach  me their rant. All in all though, I fared just fine girling my way through life so far. I'm willing to admit that it's probably especially helpful that I'm still living this fairly selfish, single in the city, life where I'm limitedly accountable to anyone. Hard decisions may still be to come in harder places, in professions still male dominated, in times when you're blessed with balancing a relationship, and in choosing if and how children and work will both fit into life.

All that said, I think sometimes in all these women need, men are, girls have, boys want, conversations we lose the individuals, who deserve to be individuals. We forget about the increasing number of men who choose to stay home, the increasing number of women who find their vocation as leaders in major corporations. And the million little things along the way that still sort of matter in the day to day. The guys who like RomCom and the girls who hate them. The girls who love football and the guys who love musicals. Truly and obviously, the things men and women face are different. there are many generalizations to be made. When it comes right down to it though, while I don't want anyone thinking I'm a man, I also don't want them thinking I am just another girl and my sense is if we thought more about what a person wants and deserves and what wonderful things God created them to love and do we'd have to worry about all the little he/she madness a whole lot less.

Boys and girls are still not the same. (Wisdom! You're welcome...)

I'm going to try to proceed with the treat people like they are as unique as they are approach though. It makes life a million times easier than trying to figure out who is right and wrong about where we all fit in our gender roles. I'm wrong about enough other stuff. I won't set myself up to fail here. I think that is superior logic my ranting sisters would be proud of.

Merry, Happy, Cheery, Shiny!

Oh Christmas, welcome back dear friend!

And hello to you friends. Hello, hello and I'm sorry I'm the most absent blogger on the planet. The thing is, I've actually written and deleted several ridiculous things you didn't want to read. Tonight though, I'm just going to get all merry and rambly. Because. I. Can.

Today was Monday after a (great) long weekend. I was feeling just a teensy bit of angst about having to go to work. It was all ok though, because there was the Pandora Christmas station crooning wonderfulness at me. Nat King Cole, the Rat Pack, Sinatra, Mikey Bubble, Mariah, etc. all jingling and chestnut roasting and dashing through the snow and making me productive. I do believe, that every email for which I have control of the answer has been answered. (What? I'm amazing? I know, right?)

It totally helped that I got to warm up for Christmas this weekend. A friend made cookies and I decorated them in a truly unattractive way, maintaining a firm last place in the cookie decorating contest, sweet and sticky just how I like it. We also watched Elf. And it's all left me totally "I like smiling! Smiling's my favorite!"

And when I came home tonight I cooked to my ridiculous, wonderful, familiar home blend of Christmas cheer. Jars, Point of Grace, Relient K, Hansen (yeah, you heard me!), Dolly, and on and on... I cooked, and I may have danced around like an idiot. I'm not sure where my roommate is, but luckily for her, she doesn't seem to be in town to put up with my current Christmas madness.

Are you dancing around like a crazy person with your music at the loudest volume that won't irritate your neighbors? You should try it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Go!

I'm going to go. I have to go dig out that cute garland & tiny, tiny tree for my office. I want to cover everything in Christmas lights, but until I buy some the tiny, tiny tree will have to hold me over.

Have a merry, happy, cheery, shiny everything. It's the season when you can get away with it.

Words

They come wonderful and weighty. The good ones stroll past. The bad linger on. The ambiguous bounce about, rattling, clunking, unsure whether they should stroll or linger. All hold something more than the letters strung together. (But what?!?) They all float around in my mind as I overthink them and cling to them. I file them away - messy, but treasured - to clarify and confound how I use and choose my own later.

And how do I?

I like the idea of less. At work, especially, I like it. Short & sweet. True & clear. Leave ‘em wantin’ more. Soundbites are memorable. (Be so, so careful though! Qualify, never oversimplify!) 

In my personal life though, I want to ramble. (This blog must be very personal...). I want to tell those closest to me every detail. I don't want to be misinterpreted. I think if I say everything I have more control over what is heard. I don't. And the wanting to say everything sometimes leads to the failing to say anything. If you can't get in every detail, If you can't fully explain every thought, then it's probably best to just remain silent in fear of misinterpretation. Or so the overthinking silence goes... 

It's all very confusing what with the pretending not to care what you think and the really caring so much about what you hear and believe.

A little honesty: I have no idea how many should be heard at any given time. How? Which ones? How loud?

Do I leave things to the imagination to encourage curious questions to creep forward?

Or be lavish, spilling generously each juicy detail?

Should they come firmly? Sweetly? Laced with sarcasm? Playfully? Draped in eloquence?

Will you lean in if I whisper?

Does increasing the volume increase your intake, your interest?

When you interrupt me should I let them waft off to never, never land or fight to be heard?

What speaks to you  - the ever changing you – who I long to address well? I want to be better than I know how – you deserve better – all my yous do.  

Don’t misinterpret this, really, pretty please. This post is no passive aggressive reaction to anything else. I can imagine it interpreted that way. It's just the truth. It’s a constant question bouncing through my brain. I rarely have a clear idea how to let all the beloved letters unfold. 

You’ll likely get less unless you ask for more. (I almost always have more.) Unless you are amidst a select few who I trust with my crazy because they have shown themselves to have some crazy endurance (aka friendship) and then maybe you wish you got less – way, way less.

(If you made it through this blog you may have some crazy endurance potential - just sayin'.)

How many? I seem to creep towards and away from the answer a little more every day.

You are such a moving target.

Wanderlust

So, I received this sweet award, many moons ago and I've just been too distracted by life to respond to it (moving is hard!). And I'm not even going to do it right, but better late and wrong than not at all! (well, I hope anyway) I got this fun little Sunshine Award from my high school Spanish teacher. So appropriate because I have had some killer wanderlust of late and she is one of my original Wanderlust inspirations. She took me on my first international trip, to Spain (be still my heart!), and the rest is history. I'm going to do her wrong though, and not pass the Sunshine along. I don't know who to send it to. Or if they want it. Or or or... Excuses... I'm hoping she'll tolerate my very LATE response and very sincere: "Back at ya!" as a sufficient response to her lovely gesture. I do so enjoy her blog and her - she's always just back from somewhere I wish I'd been and she's so good at recounting it all to let me live her adventures vicariously. You should check her out at Provence in Ann Arbor. You should also probably make her Pomegranate Guacamole right away. I'm a fan.

My award came with an assignment. I have to answer some random questions. We all know I'm always game for random rambling. Here goes!

Favorite Color:  Green
Favorite Animal: Giraffe
  Favorite Number: 3? 7? 21? I didn't know I was supposed to have a favorite number... I sort of like made up numbers that assist me in exaggeration though. Like: "There were eleventy bazillion people there." Eleventy Bazillion is my favorite number. Glad we've settled that.
Favorite Drink: It's seasonal and mood based. Here are some favorites... Hazelnut coffee. Cranberry juice and carbonated water. Rum & Coke. Cider. Iced vanilla coffee. Chocolate almond milk.  Orange juice - with normal pulp (why are there suddenly so many pulp options? Just give me some normal oj!)
Facebook or Twitter:  Facebook, clearly I can't fit my crazy into Twitter sized sound bites.
Your Passion: Brighter futures for children, ending the use of the phrase "a whole nother", and teaching people to "use their words" (aka mediation - I'll get back to you someday you handy, amazing methodology...)
Giving or Getting Presents: Giving! I know I can't say getting because I'd be a jerk, but I do prefer giving -really, really! So fun to find just the thing or find quirky ways to add meaning to something simple. I prefer getting cards though. I'll confess to that. (although I do like to send them too!). Write me a handwritten note and I'll get totally warm & fuzzy. Let it arrive in my actual mailbox and I'll probably be your best friend forever.

Now that we've sunshined, can we talk about my life for just a minute? I'm surrounded by stories of travel. Coworkers on vacation. Friends on mission trips and international work trips. Family, friends, church, work worlds. It seems everyone is headed off somewhere. Some of them are thrilled. Some of them are apathetic. Some don't want to go at all (I have no grid for this...). 

I am not apathetic with regard to the journeys of what seems to be nearly everyone around me. I'm not apathetic at all - that would be far more mature behavior. 

 I'm jealous. 

 I feel like I've been grounded. Like, literally forced to stay right here on the ground and out of my beloved airplanes. Forced to stay put and listen to other people tell me stories about their trips to islands and beaches and foreign lands and returns to familiar, cozy places. I'm just drowning in their plans and their pictures and their memories and their souvenirs. I'm smiling. I'm nodding. I'm polite.

In the dark, honest places inside of my head, I'm fiercely JEALOUS. 

Don't get me wrong. I need to hear about their trips. I want to. It's like a mini-fix that gets me through. Living vicariously until I make it to my next real fix. (oh and you're in my life and I like you and I want to know about yours!)

Inside of my head though, I'm becoming less gracious with my vicarious mini-fixes. I'm becoming whiny. Like a real drug addict, the little fix quickly becomes not enough...
I wanna go! (Stomp foot. Pout in corner.)

I want to be in a place in life where I have the time and money to pick up and go. I want my favorite people to come with me. 

Screw responsibility. 

I'm so over it. Eww. Been there, done that. I want to be the wandering free spirit who doesn't pay her student loans one month and uses up all her vacation hours and darts off to watch the sun rise in Guell Park (It is on the very short list of things I'll get up early for!).

Ok, reality check. I KNOW that I just got to go to Michigan AND Washington at the beginning of the summer for 2 of my nearest and dearest's weddings. I wouldn't trade those trips for the world. I'm aware that I'm very lucky and it hasn't been that long. It's just that travel makes me a better person and the summer has felt so long and tedious.

If I could just go I promise I'd come back far more kind and wise and willing to...almost anything. God designed travel as my personal mood stabilizer and I just don't think I've found the place in life where I get to properly apply it yet. If I don't get to run away soon, I just might have to resort to real mood stabilizers.

Ok, but all this reminds me, I better order a new passport. I lost mine in Washington. Perhaps that can be my first step towards the next big thing... My next mini-fix. I might be just a little afraid that I will run away if I have one again. I'm never that girl who irresponsibly chases a whim. This is the summer I feel like I could become that girl though...

I probably won't. I'll plan responsibly. I'll save. Find a bargain. Put it on my work calendar weeks in advance with permission. Oh but please, let it be Spain! In the next year! I can't let 10 years go by without getting back. 

Ok, bedtime! 

May our dreams be Barcelona filled.  

Spazzy until Wednesday

Where did July go?

How did a whole month whir by and seem so long and so fast all at once? 

It's been eventful and dull. I've been delighted and distraught. I feel like I've been living in extremes. 

I have become a girl who cries in the last couple years. I was just never that girl... And I'm SO that girl now. Sometimes because of something important and heartbreaking - and that comes too often... Also though, because of something just a little warm and fuzzy. Like a good-bye lunch for our interns. They're great, but they're not even leaving for a week or so... Also because of something even just a little sad and definitely anything dealing in actual sadness. I mean, well, good night... 

I've also become a girl who occasionally wants a hug and dances. That's a sort of new girl too. 

I remember thinking of people as sort of "spazzy" in the past. When they appeared to be living in mood extremes. I remember wondering why they were so distracted and unpredictable and wishing they'd mellow out. 

God thinks he's funny. 

July taught me a little more about spazzy. I got an insider's perspective on strong emotions, hard moments, and hard earned joy. None of that was entirely new, but it all phased through in ways that felt fresh.

Ok then, I'm laughing too. I see Your point. I'm taken care of and should probably just calm down. A lot. 

Still though, in the midst of all the searching for a place to live, making a lot of popcicles, packing, working, crying, dancing, praying through the night, absorbing hard news, musicals in my backyard, and feeling left behind, moments in July, I have found myself most often just tired. 

I'm usually a girl that finds a way to fill the days and live. In July I was a girl that hid -- in shutting down and hiding from the junk and in missing the joy sort of ways. 

That seems a funny way to be in July especially. Summer, in my mind, should be full of frolicking. Kites and wildflowers and beaches and bubbles and spinning until you collapse in extra green grass. Should I be this tired when the sun shines so much? Isn't all that vitamin D supposed to be good for me? Maybe I'm a vampire... Life just refuses to let me live at night as a vampire ought. Silly societal norms and professional hours and dearly loved daytime dwellers. The sacrifices I make for all of you... 

I'm hoping spazzy is an exercise that I can leave behind with July. I'll settle in to being a girl who cries and dances and feels and hopes in new ways and I will not panic in reaction to life happening around me. I'm not going to invite spazzy over, but I won't file an eviction notice these last few days of July - I'm moving this weekend. Giving up spazzy now seems especially daunting. And heck, spazzy taught me some things I needed to learn. I'm going to see what I can do about leaving it to others, but I'm going to try to embrace what was learned instead of spazzing spazzy away.  

On Wednesday though, August is here and I'm taking back control! (HA! As if I was ever in control...)

Mumbly

Yesterday, this blog was 1 year old.

I made red wine fudgesicles in its honor. (Also for the two upcoming summer-y events, but whatever. Don't make the blog feel bad - I ate one yesterday in it's honor.)

Also, I sang Happy Birthday to Mumbly. (my blog's nickname - ok, I just made that up now, but it sort of cracks me up. So it's going to stick. I love to name inanimate things. Recently I named a tree Slim Shady and my cell phone's name is Ann Droid. Also, I like tangents. If you've been here before that's not news though...) I didn't actually get to blogging Happy Birthday on the day though. Life is so distracting sometimes. Sorry Mumbly.

Anyway, a year of blogging makes me think about words. I love words - and that is basically why Mumbly exists.

Words have power. The words we say. The praise we lavish or withhold. The advice and direction we give. The criticism and less than kind words that slip out. Our gushing and our whining and our storytelling. And the things we don't say. Our attitude, our tone, our vocabulary, our grammar (you heard me people!) all of it has meaning.

Thanks for reading. I'm not sure why you're putting up with my attitude, tone, or grammar, but I'm glad you're here.

That's another thing about words. We all want ours to be heard.

Sometimes I like to pretend words don't matter. I like to play it cool. To pretend that I haven't been sliced to the core by a string of little, not-so-harmless, words. I totally do this - but I really, really don't believe it...

They matter.


And they linger. 


I don't know how to string mine together just right sometimes. Let's be honest, most of the time...

For example, I'm just not much of a praise gusher. And, to be honest, I find it rather suspicious at times. I'm an actions speak louder than words sort of girl. There are people in my life who pour on a lot of gushing praise, but fail a little too often in the follow through. I suppose that has made me a little jaded and ungushing. I'm going to work on figuring out how to make the words and the actions and my sentiment all line up a little more. Praise and beyond...

Words aren't the whole package - but they certainly matter.

So, I'm going to keep working on stringing them together more... right. {?} That's probably a piece of why Mumbly and I are here. I set out here because I sincerely like to share. I'm learning more and more that there's room for improvement though. And this is a great place to practice getting it right. Sorry for the blunders you have and no doubt will continue to encounter. I'll keep trying to get the words to line up with the sentiment and action.

Thanks for listening. You're a very good listener.  

Blogging by Day

Yesterday, I did something weird.

I wrote a blog during the daytime hours.

I felt like I might get in trouble for blogging at work. It does limit me slightly - like, I don't get to use made up words or rant endlessly about hating morning. That might actually be good for me...

Really though, blogging is a totally fun work task to have.

If you want to, you can read about my other life where I hold myself out as a quasi-responsible adult type who does work and uses real words here:
National Council For Adoption: An Invitation to the Capitol

If you're feeling especially nice, comment or subscribe to the blog. It will make our Director of Communications smile. You know it's fun to make people smile...

If you want to make me smile, call your Members of Congress and tell them why you love the Protecting Adoption and Promoting Responsible Fatherhood Act of 2012.

Yikes-A-Bee

Remember yesterday how much fun I was going to have this summer? I'm still doing that! Some of it, it seems I have to do more quickly than other parts though.

It seems I better get on that movie projecting posthaste. It seems life is out to crash my party a little. Stupid life. You can't steal my party - literally. I'm doing it anyway.

So, I found out this morning I have to move. I have to say, I'm a little heartbroken. My lease is expiring and my landlord is not renewing so that they can renovate.

Objectively, I understand this. My little house is full of character. The charming sweet kind and the "a little rough around the edges" kind... They could certainly charge far more if they put a bit of love into it.

I'm not currently a fan of this objective part of me though. I'm crabby. I don't want to be reasonable and understanding. I'm pouting and you can't stop me. I like it here. I felt settled. I decorated. I'm cozy. I have memories here and now I must abandon them.

Yikes-A-Bee! Frickety Frack! Alas and alack. Boo.
(These words want to be swear words when they grow up, but I'm pretty sure they'll be bullied and never make it. I'm always for the underdogs though - even the words... The "real" curses seem somewhat lacking in creativity and vocabulary. What's the fun in that?)

So, I suppose I should stop whining and be proactive now. Spend some time on craigslist now - the source of all cheap housing... And the message boards and and and... All those places I tell interns and friends of friends who are moving to DC. If you have any leads on good deals, good roommates, near Old Town preferred, please shout it out. Maybe something better is coming my way?

I suppose I should start putting things in boxes soon too. I hate to pack.

Sigh. Shmerg.

Wisdom Begins With Wonder

This summer, I'm going to be fun. I'm going to drag myself out of bed on weekends and explore the world. In my dining room there is a canvas with an awesome green tree that says: "Wisdom begins with wonder." love that. I need it. I could use some more wonder. I'm going to do new things and repeat old favorite happy summer things. Learn new things. Make new friends and spend time with old ones. Make memories. Be occasionally, appropriately childish.

I'm not going to hibernate. My mood lately defaults to hibernate. And it doesn't help that DC is a terrible, wonderful place to spend the summer. Why didn't our forefathers have the insight not to build the nation's capital in a humid swampland? Didn't they know about the misery of wearing business attire in a swamp?

Still though, there are a million fun things to do here and near. I'm going to do them ALL. Ok, fine that's crazy talk. I'm going to do some of them though. I'm going to pry myself away from my friend the box fan and his favorite Uncle AC and live life in places where sun shines and sweaty humanity smiles at each other and lives and learns and wonders (and tries not to stick to one another.)

I picknicked today. And last weekend. And hopefully again. Maybe at Roosevelt Island? I haven't been back since a visit shortly before I moved here. Crazy...

Host a movie night - projected in my backyard. Complete with home popped popcorn and really cold drinks... Exciting new development: my neighbors (whose wall I project on) painted their house. This is excellent. You can't project on red brick, but you can project on putty colored brick. No convincing a stand to stay up in wood chips. No trying desperately with considerable tape to make a sheet stay up. I love my new neighbors! Additionally, they're totally friendly and have already spoken to me FAR more than the others did in a full 2 years. I should totally invite them over to watch a movie on their wall. It only seems fair...

Camping. For real. In a tent. I just need a tent. Anybody have a tent I can borrow? I think I want my own tent actually... Where am I going to keep a tent? Hmm. There's just a little more space under my bed... Also I  need mosquito spray. This is possibly more important than the tent...

Fire. And food on a stick in the fire. Hot dogs. Marshmallows lit on fire and blown out black? Yes. (I have zero patience.)

Agua fresca. Watermelon? Canteloupe? Strawberry? Yes and yes and yes. I tried this last summer and it should be a tradition. Yay. 

Not get a(nother) ridiculous sunburn I always do this. I don't burn that quickly. I almost always bring sunscreen. I almost never put it on. Dumb. I'm grown. I need to grow on out of this stupidity.

Roll down a real hill. I warmed up on a mound last weekend apparently. I'll have to get the hill police to approve a real hill for me it seems...

Beach! Virginia Beach? Delaware? Somewhere... Walking. Napping. Reading. Maybe sand castle building? 

Take a top down, hair in the wind, music far too loud, roadtrip.

Write my name in sparklers.

Homemade popsicles. Someone told me about red wine and chocolate popsicles recently. Fruitiness will also definitely happen. I think red wine & chocolate must also be tested though...

Stroll through some pleasantly chilly, not yet visited museum on a hot, humid DC afternoon. I should probably save this for August. I feel like I'll have plenty of days to choose from though. It was already 105 one day this week. Help!

Fly a kite. Blow bubbles. Throw water balloons. Do cartwheels (is this even still possible?). Spin around in circles until the world spins. Play. Summer is the most appropriate time to reclaim a little childhood.

Ok, that's a reasonable start to the list. I don't want to get out of control. Better to overachieve than fail when it comes to fun.

Bring on the wonder.

Noncommital June No More!!!

I'm sort of annoyed with me lately.

I feel like usually, I'm a work hard, play hard kind of girl.

Lately, I've been a tired at work, won't commit to play kind of girl. My friends are all: "hang out with me". I'm all: "we'll see..." I hate that. It has gone so far though, that a friend and I decided that noncommital was my theme for June.

Whoa. Too. Far.

I've been busy some, but that's not everything. I have been travelling for awesome weddings! And we had our conference at work last week. I have a love/hate relationship with conference. No, now wait. Not hate. That analogy takes things too far. Maybe I actually have a love/exhaustion relationship with conference. I love the people. Love the learning. Love the making connections between people who can be more awesome together. Love all the stuff that works together to find families for children. But I most definitely get for really real tired from all that loving action.

Wait. I have totally derailed from the point of this post. What? I'm rambling? Nobody is shocked? Yeah, me either. Eek. Back on task! Here we go...

The weddings and conference and travelling were legitimate busy causing, distance from normal life creating, distractions, but some of this might just be my own slacky, slacker fault. If I could just get on my game at work I'd KNOW when I would have free time because I could count on myself to finish things and get on with my life. I don't though. I'm so tired I don't trust myself and I won't commit to doing the things that are refreshing and don't exhaust me. This is a bad cycle of unrefreshing. Boo.

I don't have any of those good excuses like spouse, children, recent life trauma, natural disaster. I am only responsible for me in a normal state of being. I should be better at it.

I'm going to be! Sunday I had semi-spontaneous fun lunch with friends. THAT is going to be the pattern breaker. So. There. Pattern broken. HA! It is summer and I am going to be outside and with fun people and doing the 80 trillion fun things DC offers.

Bring on the summer fun. I have all these things I want to do this summer... Summer bucket list! Hmm. I should publish that list. Fun accountability! Totally. Summer Bucket list post coming SOON. Do you have any awesome summer fun suggestions? Put 'em in the comments!

She felt safe...

I got to go to another wedding this weekend and it was awesome again. And it was - against all odds - for another of my favorite people. Two weeks in a row. My life might be more fun than yours. I'm sorry.

. 

It was amazing in completely different and equally freakin' awesome ways than the previous week's events.

The bride was my law school roommate - she put up with me for three intense years and in all our up close and personal she remains one of my all-time favorite people. She makes me laugh harder than almost anyone and 5 years after law school we find ourselves on opposite coasts, but I feel as close to her as ever and she still knows more of my secrets than just about anyone and is a rare safe place that hears what I say and hears as much in what is left unsaid. She always responds with love and wise counsel and understanding and without a glimmer of judgment. In review, I'm rather fiercely attached to this girl.

So, I was fiercely grateful with how generous she was with her time while I was there during what was - obviously - the very busy week of her wedding. I got to do all the amazing wedding events - and I'll get to that, but I also got to tag along on errands, meet the major characters in years of her stories, eat her favorite pizza, see a glimpse of where she grew up, and stay up talking too late and being roommates with my girl one last time before she belongs to some strange man. What a gift to me in a week where she ought to have been entirely on the receiving end.

About the strange man... I'm a fan. I'll admit I was worried - I'd never met the strange man. I trust this girl more than just about anyone and she doesn't make major life decisions lightly. So, when she told me she was engaged I was initially a little surprised, but not too concerned. Still though, just in case, I had to worry. It's what I do. What if I didn't like him? I might have needed to punch him in the face a lot of times or kidnap her. And I hate it when I have to break laws on vacation (and I was too sore from the bachelorette party to make any swift violent actions or quick getaways, but that's all you need to know about that...). Luckily, I think my brief moments with the strange man showed him strangely perfect. I watched him watch her across the room and it was precious. He treasured her and she deeply deserves it. He knew her well enough to tease her extremes into balance kindly and he makes her laugh. More importantly, I watched her look comfortable and feel safe when he was near and I decided I wouldn't commit any crimes at all. (It seemed easier not to fight in heels anyway.) I'd just  cheer him on because that much care should only be celebrated and if I could see it so quickly, then he just might deserve her. I'll just have to dedicate the coming years to getting to know him more because he has become a part of her forever (and, accordingly, mine).

The wedding was perfection. It was completely them. I could see the ways they'd taken careful efforts to honor and include their families and loved ones in things. A judge they both know well performed the ceremony. They threw a great party, not to throw the best party, but so all their loved ones left smiling. They took care of everyone right down to the details of having crayons and toys for the kids. Dinner was from one of their favorite restaurants and a local bakery made the (amazing!) cake. Predictably, the bride tried to serve the cake herself. Dear servant heart: please just this once be served! We talked her out of it - eventually... None of us said it that nicely - well, not me anyway... I swear it's just what I meant though! The bride even made breakfast in advance on Friday afternoon so they could enjoy a last meal with loved ones on Sunday before everyone left town. Their love (living Romans 12 style love) for each other and everyone present was evident everywhere.

Of course it was. That's just so you friend.

As we said good-bye on Sunday, she thanked me for coming - which sort of cracked me up. I mean, where else could I possibly have been while she got married? I told her I would have crashed her wedding without an invitation. I think I meant it. (I totally meant it.) How could I do anything but celebrate with this girl? Lucky for me I got an invitation. And my heart is still very much celebrating for you dear one. Even if you are kind of - well, as your former self would have said "pukey." 

It all made me think something I almost never think at weddings: "If I do this someday, I'd like it to be very much like this in many ways." Weird right? I'm so never that girl. In fact, in law school, the bride and another roommate planned a wedding for me. I think they'd given up hope on my taking part in this girly dreaming task on my own behalf... (For the record, they did a good job. I have held onto pieces of that plan. They knew me pretty well.) I blame my recent girliness on all the dressing up -the red heels and dresses and that especially wonderful girly necklace I've become weirdly attached to. It went to my head. I'm back in flats now, so it probably won't last. Still, in the midst of my happily independent singleness, the idea of partnering for life with someone that makes you laugh and feel safe is not without its merits. Not this week, but maybe someday. If I'm not busy... 

Just Push Play

Do you ever want to press pause? Just stop life just where it is so you can hold on just a little tighter and take in a seemingly perfect instant more completely? And do you ever want to fast forward through a whole season of overwhelmed life?

 

I'm feeling stuck between these places lately. I feel like I've been in a season I'd much rather have skipped for a while now. I'm trying to recognize the moments worth pausing for in the midst of this season that I like to call - well, nevermind...

I'm trying to "keep moving forward" (Ahh, Disney brilliance!) through the tricky and treasure the delights as they spin past.

 

That's right. I'm trying - and I'm failing all the time. It's a goal though. That's something right? 
Step 1: Make a goal.
Step 2: Fail a lot of times.
Step 3: Decrease number of failures.
Repeat 1-3 until dead. (Sigh.)

This past week, I was lucky (blessed, spoiled, overjoyed!) to have been included in the bridal party of a friend I can hardly remember not knowing and I intend to keep forever. We have plans for a nursing home in common. I plan to hold her to that as well as many years of antics between now and then. This weekend, she made it permanent with someone I'm glad to add to the list of people I'll keep forever. I can't imagine how I could be happier for them both. I'm doing that weird thing where I smile at my laptop just thinking about it all. So, all this to say it was a week that left me with many extra pause-worthy moments.

• Catching up with old friends 
• New friendships that came easily because they were friend pre-tested
• Excessive girliness - fancy shoes, pretty nails, flowers, amazing new jewelry, and our hair will never look that good again (out of my norm and fully, gladly embraced)
• Too much fun followed by too much laughing followed by too much talking and too little sleeping. All perfectly recovered from with advil, coffee, and magic donuts
• Blinking away tears as I watched ridiculously happy unfold (Ok, fine! I cry at weddings - especially when they are my favorite people. I cry all the time! There. I'm owning it. Don't repeat it. I'll find you and you'll pay!)
• Photo poses that will make us laugh forever
• Dancing terribly, terribly happily 

And it brought me home for other sweet moments

• Hazelnut coffee from the favorite cup that waits hiding for me on a top shelf
• Playing grocery store with a friend's little one
• No cell service (blessing? curse? both!)
• Setting up "office" at Panera bread again - home away from internet-free-home
• Saying the Lord's Prayer in its proper rhythm (it somehow feels a little more complete in the cadence you first learned it in)
• Familiar worship songs from familiar voices
• And what's not to love about a rainy roadtrip with blasting new music?

If I could just remember that the pause-worthy moments make the fast-forward-preferred moments worth surviving.  The contrast is starker, stronger, sweeter if you survive without fast-forwarding and the pause is short.

So, I guess, just push play. It makes sense. If I can convince myself of that I could, perhaps, have a little more Step 3...

Chara over Crabby

I feel like I should confess that I have totally failed this beautiful, beautiful journal.

Remember when I raved and raved about One Thousand Gifts? (It deserved it. It still does!)

And for many days - long enough to establish a habit and  remember nearly every day I did it. And it was my favorite distraction from negativity. Then, I got distracted - no, let's be honest, I got rebellious.

I want to say that I quit because I've been so busy and I was traveling and it got left behind. Excuses like this would still be bad, but at least they'd be something.

It's not true though. I quit before the busy and traveling weeks. I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. I was crabby and I didn't want to be grateful, so I didn't do it. You know, when I needed it most. Yeah, then. That's when I quit. Fail. Fail. Fail. Sigh.

In the midst of this silent tantrum, I was aware I was being a punk and so I carried the journal around with me knowing that I should do the right thing and write something down. Instead, I just scowled at it - in many locations, in various states.

 How am I not stubborn enough to outstubborn myself? If anyone were, wouldn't it be me? How? That was the goal with the carrying it around. I was sure I'd eventually guilt myself back into doing the right thing.

Don't get all worked up though. The journal is back. It's open. I am writing in it RIGHT NOW. Really! Literally, as I write this blog, I'm taking a brief interlude and making it happen. If I feel like you're all watching I can't lie or put it off.

There. I did it. 7 things in like 2 minutes. It's not even hard. Why am I such a baby? Thank you for your support. Now to rebuild the habit. Stupid, stubborn rebellion. I broke the habit. Who breaks good habits on purpose? Shmerg.

Shockingly though, stubborn was not the answer to something. Encouraging friends reminded me that I should knock it off indirectly in a few ways over the last few days. Darn them and their wisdom and niceness. I hate when they are all kind and encouraging and sigh... (love them. love them all.). Their grace, kindness, joy aka chara won. Chara over crabby. Well, of course. That's what the whole thing is about.

Sigh. Grace is good. Grace leaves space to try, try again. Here goes...

The Warm Embrace of Tradition

I like traditions. I've been noticing lately that the world thinks so many things need to be new and improved as if any newness brings improvement. I'm all for innovation and creativity, but sometimes tradition and sameness hold value. They comfort us with a predictable, life giving reliability. They build community. Innovation is extraordinary. I don't want to discourage change and growth. As the world rushes past though, I want to remember to remember what is and was and can continue to be good - just as it is.

I like small traditions and predictable behaviors. Like, well a million things... I love the confidence I have that my favorite coffee cup is tucked safely away on the top shelf, just out of sight somewhere, when I come home to Michigan. I love that the sun greets me when I step out the door to start a new day. I especially treasure that night comes daily and quiets the rush of each day. I love that there are a few people in my life that are fiercely loyal and reliable - and a conversation (sometimes even just a voicemail) with them can center me entirely and feel like a safe, warm embrace - regardless of the distance or time passed.

I especially love uniting traditions. The kind that bring together a community over a collective experience. Little traditions like inside jokes amongst families (buttle up!, P.U., bmud/bweed), teams, classmates... And I treasure large, time spanning traditions like church liturgies that profess shared beliefs across centuries. I love having a weekly expectation of an opportunity to pray together with a group of friends. I like that holidays lend pause to our normal rush and bring families, friends, and friends turned family together for a meal, coffee on the porch, cards at the kitchen table. I like anthems, pledges, favorite hymns that make us all speak, hum, sing, sway in unison. I like team chants and colors. And on and on... (am I rambling? Good. I like it!)

In simple, repeatable actions (light a candle, hum a tune, salute, touch a doorframe, slap out a silly handshake, repeat a shared joke), we can say to each other: we are the same in this - an intrinsic mutual understanding of belonging. I need, often, to be reminded I belong and I don't think I'm alone in this.

I think most of my love for tradition comes from a childhood which included some startlingly unpredictable moments balanced beautifully by a church and school community that warmly embraced me with more tradition, predictability, and safety than I even knew to take note of at the time. This amazing place - community - wrapped me in encouraging consistency daily and I knew I belonged there. There were moments where people took dramatic actions at crucial moments and I'm fiercely grateful for those moments. More and more though, I remember the daily consistency of it all and I know it was just as crucial.

• I remember a principal at the front door greeting us warmly by name every morning.
• I remember daily devotions and music that brought truth and encouragement and a way to express our joy in it.
• I remember a staff of reliable role models - human, but seeking to model Christ to me constantly.
• I remember weekly chapel. Young voices uniting in liturgy, hymns, and the Lord's Prayer as Christians had for generations. And I remember the careful effort made to ensure that we had a clear understanding of what it all meant. I recall regular opportunities to not just to attend, but participate in, even help lead, worship. I recall early exposure to hymns rich with meaning that continues to unfold now.
• I recall being encouraged that success was unquestionably within our reach. Messages declaring unique potential in each of us. Sound theology that we were fearfully and wonderfully made and God had good plans for us. This was all backed with excellence in academics, exposure to music, art, sports all teaching lessons that would inform whatever that purpose turned out to be.
• I remember coaches that encouraged and included all. I recall parents that cheered the team, encouraged good sportsmanship regardless of outcomes, and left coaches in charge.
• I remember a community of parents that believed kids were raised by a community and provided gentle correction and spoke truth and life to whichever kids were nearest.
• I recall many parents and church members who bought meals, gave rides, bought groceries, paid school fees, and more in order to keep me safe and well and to keep me in the place where I felt safe.
• I remember especially the parents who eventually weren't just parents in the community, but my parents - welcoming my dangerous mess into the midst of their family.

The dramatic things are extraordinary, but the daily things are too. There were moments I noticed that it was amazing, but many things didn't get much of my attention and nobody demanded recognition. They did it because it was right and good and they were filled with Christ. I suspect they set out to create a place where kids had an expectation of safety and love so certain that it didn't even cross our minds that it wouldn't be that way. They succeeded.

It has since crossed my mind often and it is still one of the places I feel I most belong in the world. It is far away now, but even if I'm in town for only a few hours I make it a point to drive past and I treasure the Sundays I am in town and can go home to St. John's for a service full of friends and familiar liturgy and hymns. I remain a work in progress, but when there is a glimmer of good in me it was likely encouraged, at least in part, there. I treasure that it is a place with staying power, still trying to give this amazing gift to kids today.

Take a moment. Take a breath. Who is fiercely reliable to you? What can you depend on? What helped form you? Where do you belong? What is so intrinsic to your existence that you don't even notice it?

Notice it.

I'm going to try to make an effort not just to notice it, but recognize it, and try to reflect at least some small piece of it to those in my world. Join me. It's all easier when we're united in it - when we make a tradition of it. Come on, try. I'll let you make up our handshake....

Relational Calculus

I've been navigating some tricky concerns personally and professionally lately. I've had some tough conversations recently and I know there are more to come. I've spent a lot of time contemplating what truth is and who needs to know it and how much and when and and and... It all feels like tricky grown up business I may not be qualified for. I know it's worth trying to do things right. That's the goal. Right just seems so nebulous sometimes.

Unfortunately, the more I do life, the more I realize how much gray muddies the day to day. Not so many years ago I swear it all seemed more black and white. Interpersonal communication and profesional ethics have since become many layered decisions with unpredictable and varied outcomes. (Alas!!)

It's like high school math all over again. I was reasonably good at math - until they took the numbers away. Math took time, but I could usually get it right. And when I got it right, it was unquestionably correct and the same every time you successfully completed that problem. So satisfyingly predictable!

Then, they took the numbers away. Suddenly, calculus rocked my world with its symbols and I distinctly recall there occasionally being more than one way to express the right answer (not to mention myriad ways to get it wrong.). I remember thinking that graphing calculator was the worst and least helpful device known to man. Unlike all other calculators I'd ever used, it managed to make math harder instead of easier.

Lately, I feel like I'm navigating relational calculus. I feel like life has taken away all the "numbers" I understood and replaced them with symbols whose meaning may change depending on what is around them. Except, there are real lives in play. People to be hurt or healed by my words and actions.

And the thing I'm left with is a lot of questions. Time spent praying for clarity because I'm not even sure what else to ask for. Time reading the Bible. Time consulting other relevant resources. Seeking wise counsel from trusted advisors. It's all in pursuit of finding the right things to do in the right order with the right supports in place. It all feels like a graphing calculator. I know that graphing calculator was supposed to be my best friend. My calculus teacher said so many times. I just didn't know how to interpret all the output I was getting. I still don't.

I don't think calculus and I were meant for one another. I have a feeling though, that once again that's not going to get me out of it. Anybody know where I can find a good life tutor?

Eucharisteo

A few weeks ago I read a book called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. You could check out the website and Ann's blog. I think you should just go to the store and buy the book though. Really. It's like a warm hug on paper.

First, you must commit to reading 3 chapters. Well, maybe you don't need this. I had to commit to reading 3 chapters. I know myself and I know I'm skeptical of this cheesiness even though I almost always come around to loving it and I knew instantly that I needed the sweet, gentle, grace-filled truth of it.

So, 3 chapters. Commited. And I think it only took two... It was cheesy and I was skeptical, but she was a beautiful writer. Word art! A million mental pictures in detailed literary color. Can words be cozy? There's no need for that to be a question - these words are cozy. Beautiful stories of real life. Messy and full of family and friends and busy and obligation and love. How it's so hard and so filled with beauty. Dichotomy gloriously balanced in pretty, pretty words.

Is it getting annoying that I'm not really telling you what this book is about yet? I'm scared. What if you think it's cheesy and run away and stop reading and don't even consider it? Wait. That's my brain that does that... Maybe not only my brain though... And if your brain does it your brain might need it as much as my brain - and my heart and the rest of me.

So, ok. Here's the challenge of the book: Write down one thousand gifts. Simple.

Someone challenged Ann to write down one thousand every day moments that she was grateful for in a year. The book is laced with explanation, and beautiful examples of her gifts. The core thought comes from the word eucharisteo - gave thanks.
"And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them." (Luke 22:19)

So eucharisteo comes from the root charis -grace and charis comes from chara - joy. So inside of giving thanks is an understanding of grace and joy. To be grateful in the things that are right there already might bring joy - and in the everyday of life, I desperately want more joy.
And so I committed, 2 chapters in. Not to the challenge but to the curiosity that makes you finish a book and wonder if she might be on to something.
And then, halfway through I thought: "I should do this"
And two-thirds of the way through: "I could do this."
And then: "I will do this ... someday."
And finally: "Why would I put it off if I think it's good and easy?"
And then - a few weeks after I'd finished the book, and it continued to trickle into my mind, and I'd left it out so I could reread favorite passages at night - I finally, finally, finally gave in to the actual doing.

Possibly a little because I bribed myself with a pretty new journal.

It may have been the first thing I was grateful for...

This all reminds me of a post about affirmations from October. I was totally understanding, but resisting the concept that optimistic and grateful might lead to joy then too. And here I am, still doing it. Still being me - skeptical of the very thing I know would be good for me.

Even with strong and convincing evidence and mental agreement in October I wasn't really budging. I wasn't sold. The book did it and God did it and possibly my counselor who started the affirmation nonsense in October, even though I possibly (definitely) made my I'm super skeptical, but I'm tolerating your nonsense face at her when she gave me an affirmation to focus on. She possibly (definitely) planted the seed first and I'm grateful (I suppose.). She didn't know it was going to take months and a whole book and then me writing in a book to get me here though. I needed way more words than she could write on a business card and pass along. The depths of my stubbornness are not her fault though. She had no idea all it would take before light-hearted, open-minded Megan could finally go to battle in her mind with skeptical, jaded Megan and win.

Pretty! And did I mention that it smells good? Mmm Leather.

So that's the scoop, i'm 100ish things in and it matters. I'm not skipping through life or singing in the morning, but I'm leaning into the warm moments of life a little more. I'm trying to treasure what's already there. And I'm trying to be less like the Israelites who were totally whiny and missing meat even though amazing things were going on all around them, like freedom from slavery and magical bread falling from the sky daily. I'm starting to notice some of the magical manna in my every day and it's warm and comfortable and sometimes it's even joy.

Read it. I dare you! Do you need a little more convincing? I really, really understand... Try this precious (cheesy) video trailer for the book.

Quiet hatred of the quiet

I'm not shy. I was once, but that's not my thing these days. I'm nervous sometimes and public speaking makes me weak in the knees like the majority of mankind, but I'm not shy. I am, however, an introvert. Not so long ago, someone told me I wasn't, because I wasn't awkward or weird. Umm. Thank you?

The comment was a little annoying, but they were on to something. A few things actually... First, our culture discourages and insults introverts. Second, we don't really understand what introvert even means. Western culture tends to think about introverts as awkward loner hermits, asocial, detached, and underachieving. It's a near insult. Almost, and usually indirectly, which is worse in some ways... Introversion is not something you'll often be directly criticized for, but it's descriptors are negative and it's behaviors are discouraged. So basically, you've been criticized.

The funny thing is though, while I'd have promised you it was what I was, it was also something that I sometimes tried to talk myself out of and let others talk me out of. Society loves extroverts. Gregarious, boisterous, active, charismatic - all good things (but maybe not the only good things?). People (at least the noisy ones) love these things though, and so I tried to "improve" my introversion. If your very being is discouraged though, it's hard to actually understand what it is you are exactly.

And so once you wrap your mind around the definitveness of the fact that you'll just never REALLY be an extrovert, you might realize you don't want to anyway. You can convince yourself that you  shouldn't have to prove your worth amongst constant groupthink and noise.

Today I came across a TED Talk on the topic. Susan Cain on The Power of Introverts. Nineteen minutes of brilliance and it explained it better than I ever could. And I sort of want to be friends with this person who was a 10 year old annoyed by a misspelled cheer and still travels with a suitcase full of books. Maybe I could just sit in the room with her and read? Yes please!

And this is an oldie, but also good on what an introvert is not. 10 Myths About Introverts.

So, this introvert business has nothing to do with social skills, liking people, or liking books more than people. It's about stimulation and the way your brain processes it. If you are an extrovert your brain craves and appreciates dopamine. So, your brain calls dopamine's friend adrenaline. When you are all pumped up with adrenaline the brain makes more dopamine and so the loud, the exciting, the crowd pumps the extrovert up. On the flip side, excess dopamine overwhelms the introvert brain. It overstimulates them. Introvert brains like acetylcholine. Unlike its counterpart adrenaline, acetylcholine is the mellow thinker feeler. It gets introverts happy and sustains calm in times of deep thinking or feeling. I'm no scientist, but here's one who explains it better: Introverts - Different Brain Pathways and Neurotransmitters.

Tonight, my introvert brain likes the dark, quiet of night. The happy mellow after an evening with dear friends. Just enough time to embrace and connect and then enough space to appreciate and absorb and put words on the page. Settled in on being who I am designed to be. Introspective and not one bit broken.

Controversy & Possession

I don't feel like I'm incredibly controversial. I don't really have the sort of lifestyle that gets people too revved up. I don't do too many of the things that make my elders shake their head at me. I'm not one of the cool kids, but I don't think most of my peers think I'm the most lost cause. I'm basically in the neutral gray somewhere. I have a strong set of beliefs that I'm delighted to share, but am not trying to shove down anyone's throat (Living happily in them is a better way to convince people of their awesomeness anyway right?).

There is this one thing that makes me super controversial though.

And it's a funny thing because it's not a big deal to me and I sometimes forget how strong a reaction I am going to get when I tell people.

Are you ready for this? Are you? Drumroll please - pause for dramatic emphasis - and...

I don't have a tv. 

Dun. Dun. Duh.

Who cares right? That's what I thought, but some people seem to care.

That's not to say that I don't occasionally watch some tv. I don't think tv is evil. In fact, there are a few things I happily watch on Hulu when I get to them.

The point is though, I don't watch much tv. I certainly don't think it's worth paying for cable. I don't watch anything at the time it comes on. It's not a priority for me, and apparently this makes me pretty out there to some people. I'm increasingly unimpressed with television . I'm more and more disappointed at the way it possesses people's time. It is the thing people go home to do - or as seems more appropriate to me non-do.

So. here is a list of my thoughts, in no particular order, on why tv makes life worse in more important ways than it makes life better. And why I think it's far more shocking that they find it odd that I don't have a tv. I'm going to keep my rant simple and uneducated, like all good rants, but there is research out there on most of these things - like a lot of it...

1. Doing stuff is fun. It is less fun to watch imaginary people do stuff than actually do stuff myself. Watching tv isn't doing. It's non-doing.

2. Scheduling your life around watching imaginary people do stuff is absurd. I know this is less of a thing now with Tivo and the like, but many people still schedule to see things right away when they air. I hope I never race home by 7 to watch X. If X happens to be recorded on the internet and really excellent maybe I can get back to it. I've rarely been more offended than when someone has chosen television over getting together though.
Them: "I'd really like to get together sometime soon!"
Me: "Cool! How about Thursday?"
Them: "Thursday? Sorry, I can't I have to watch Blah Blah Blah"
Me: "Have a nice life then."
Ok, I've never said that to anyone, but I have been turned down for tv multiple times. And it causes some inner rage. Nothing makes a girl feel valued quite like when you choose the imaginary people over her.

3. Watching television together is not time spent together. It's time spent near one another mostly ignoring each other. Is this ok sometimes? Is it sharing a common entertainment interest? Sure. Don't make it your primary form of interacting with someone though. Ask them how their life is. Listen. Be a human. Don't make it your primary form of interaction, because it is not a form of interaction. Be sure you ignore the box together before you watch the box together.

4. Violence is sad. I don't want to watch it on tv. Real life is sad enough.

5. TV is unrealistic. Reality tv is absurdly unrealistic. Are those the standards we want to infiltrate our brains with? Children's brains?

6. Commercials infiltrate our brains too. Suddenly, our purchasing decisions are influenced by 30 seconds of nonsense instead of actual decisionmaking. Probably not the best stewardship, but I'm totally susceptible and I think LOTS of people are.

7. TV lulls you to almost sleep inactivity and purposelessness. I read once that your brain is more active in some phases of sleep than while watching tv. Sleep at least gives the body time to heal and restore. I do not feel healed or restored after I watch tv.

8. TV depresses me. And there are studies that show that any less passive activity leaves you happier than watching tv. Reading. Walking. Talking. Working. People who are actually doing anything show higher ratings of satisfaction afterwards than those watching tv. I belive this. If I sit around and just watch tv for an extended time I regret it. I feel lousy and lonely and wasteful.

Neon Kelly Green

So... Here is a long awaited post on Ireland. I have a million things to say, but I'm going to keep this to a reasonable length.

We'll begin with...Ireland was green. I know, that this is a stupid thing to say, but it wasn't just green, it was shockingly green. It was neon kelly green. It was a color green I'd never seen before AND there were these extraordinary rainbows. Real amazing ones that lead to happiness rainbows in my eyes like the type that form in happy cartoon character eyes. I didn't see any pots of gold, but that doesn't mean they weren't there. Besides, I saw way better stuff.  Seriously, it was delightful. And there were a million happy travel memories and long travel conversations that lead to deeper, dearer friendships. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks for the memories girls!

(And special thanks to my overzealous photographer friend for this photo and the rainbow) 

We stayed at Adare Manor. Which was inexplicably incredible, I'll have to just show you...

Whoa right? It seems, suddenly like I'm a bazillionaire doesn't it? It's a lie. It was SUCH a good deal. And technically, we just stayed on the grounds - in a luxurious and wonderful villa with our very own rooms and kitchens and it was approximately the size of all 4 of our DC homes and more. Ahhh. 

It had these incredible windows.

It had gargoyles (who doesn't kinda love Gargoyles?)

And Ivy! (I love ivy! My polite neighbors cut their ivy off my fence recently. I was a little disappointed in their lack of haphazard gardening. I can only imagine what they think of mine...)








I saw all sorts of amazing things. More than you probably want to hear about... So, I'll just share a few pictures and promise you that I had far more breathtaking moments than most of you that week. I'm sorry you're jealous. I wish you had been there! I had no turkey for Thanksgiving does that make you feel better? (Don't feel bad for me. I did not miss it!)

This was my most awestruck moment. These rainbows at Rock of Cashel were breathtaking. My camera was, of course, uncooperative, This pic is borrowed, and much better than mine, but nothing captures quite how crazy wow this moment was. 

 

The Cliffs of Moher were by far the most breathtaking landscapes. Unbelievable...

 

 These are cool pictures, but the fog in Ireland prevents you from really understanding in any photo how incredible something is. Ireland is like that. I think it probably just wants you to come visit it too.

Here's another hilarious and memorable moment. Is Ireland really like in the movies? You know tiny roads filled with sheep...and a sheperd...and a sheepdog? Yes. Yes, sometimes it is...

Then, like all great trips, there was a memorable return trip. Remember how I declared my undying love of flying? Well, this wasn't my favorite flight, although I did try to remind myself not to be one of those ungrateful jerks who complains about participating in "the miracle of flight" (Laugh with me here @ 2:40.). Then there was a bus ride from NYC to DC that literally made me cry. I don't want to talk about it. Stop asking! It was a bad bus. (Props to MegaBus for being AMAZING with a table and comfort and shocks on the way from DC to NYC though!)



Christmas on the Curb

Hello Internet!

I've missed you. My excuses for my absence are lame. I was away, busy, sick, tired (like going to sleep before I usually write these blogs tired - totally weird). I'm sorry to have abandoned ship. Happy Thanksgiving. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Are we all caught up?

No. Not at all. We'll get there. Be patient with me.

I want to post about Ireland (Neon Kelly Green!) and Christmas (Merrily Mellow!) and maybe how America is not introvert friendly. I'll get there. I am finding my way to a more normal rhythm of life. I'm going to post out of order and go back to all those half written, passed occasions another time though.

Tonight, I'm missing Christmas. Recently, a friend posted a picture protesting a Christmas tree on the curb before Epiphany. It made me sad. It felt too soon to let go of the merry. And since then, as I've driven in Alexandria, I've noticed that there are trees on every block. I hate to let the season go.

While I know that keeping a dead tree in the house much longer would be a messy fire hazard, It bums me out to see Christmas thrown out with the trash. It feels like an analogy for how quickly we get rid of Christmas spirit - if we ever had it at all. Everyone is so rushed and talks about "surviving" Christmas. Buy the presents. Go to the party. Hit up a church service. Sing a carol. Bing bang boom and we're Christmas-ed. New Year's is here - we survived!

Umm. What?

Admittedly, I had years where Christmas was stressful. I was trying to split time between separate families, sometimes in separate states and it was sometimes more stress and obligation than joy. I felt the crunch of the rush and commercial focus and interpersonal chaos that came from it.

That's against the rules now. I love Christmas and I try to strike a balance of calm and connecting that makes it enjoyable and not overwhelming.

I love the attitude of expectation that comes with Advent. The Christmas music comes out early and stays a little too long. (My Grandmother taught me that it was always ok - even in July - to be grateful that baby Jesus was born.) I love nativities and cheesy decorations. (It's a perfect excuse to be shamelessly cheesy.) I like to drive aimlessly and see the lights. I like to decorate cookies. I like to drink warm things in front of a Christmas tree. I like paper snowflakes. I like lazy, pajama mornings and unrushed conversations with family and old friends. Christmas has become a break and a celebration and more about the who than the what.

So, what's with the "survival" attitude? We have a choice. Why so many begrudged to-do lists and obligations? How did any of us let it become something that runs us down instead of refreshing and inspiring us? Don't do it people. Love it or lose it. Christmas is not an obligation it's an opportunity. Don't survive it. Don't throw it out with the trash. Treasure it and then set it aside to love again another year.

Go ahead and get rid of those trees though - I suppose they won't make it until next year.