I just found a wondrous blog : emerging women.
And what do I find on the sidebar of the blog? A conference, on the east coast, and better yet, in Virginia Beach. I am often skeptical of women's retreats and stuff because they get corny and too touchy-feely... but this conference seems to dialogue more like a conversation.
" We hope to facilitate discussions directly related to women, encouraging them to boldly emerge as leaders in this 21st Century. The conversations are inclusive of a diversity of leadership styles and opportunities. All women will have a voice at the table to dialogue, to learn and to advance our journeys of Christian spiritual formation."
yesssss.
and for students, it's only 25 dollars.
who wants to go with me??!
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 23, 2006
I find often that my spirit is willing and my flesh lacks behind like a snail.
I want to love people of lower economic standing than me. I feel a huge part of the gospel is social justice. It's seen everywhere, with the sexually- wounded pluralist woman at the well (john 4), with the good samaritan (luke 10), Jesus intervening in the lives of outcasts- the sick, the mentally handicapped, the paralyzed, the lepers, the prostitutes, the tax collectors, the smelly fishermen. Jesus came for them. For the broken in this world.
I know this and understand this with my mind. But then why is it, that when I get on the bus, I ignore people who look like they're "white trash" who could be on meth. Why do I ignore those of ethnic backgrounds? Why do I pass the homeless on the street, not acknowledging their total need. The way I act, you'd think I hate them.
I don't though. I live in fear. Fear that I don't know what to say. Fear that I won't know what to do. Fear that I will fail, and they would hate Christ forever because of me.
O, I am a prideful wretch, aren't I?
My friend Monica was talking about an old friend whose a meth addict, living on the streets of portland with no where to go. She's been thinking a lot about him, wanting to do something. But she doesn't know what to do. what to say.
i was thinking out loud about setting up a water stand. and give out free cups of water. it was a thought. water is good. i feel like the need is greater.
and then later on today, i started reading a Burnside Writers article.
"It’s not a final “solution” to homelessness. Sometimes, all we can hope for is to help someone right now, at this very moment. It’s something you can do that you know in your heart will help them get through this day, and perhaps the next. "
This guy suggests making backpacks for the homeless. Go spend that 20 dollars you were gonna go to buy that cute skirt or that concert ticket, on basic needs...food, a blanket, a tarp, toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, a washcloth, a garbage bag and a bible, etc.
then when you see that same person on the street corner, you can give them something from the bag, or give them the entire bag! you could just leave it with them. or maybe come back again and start a repoitroire. choose a spot in a city. pray over it. and then..go!
it's not the end all, no. but its meeting very practical needs for people who suffer a great deal each day.
for more info, go to
www.backpacksforthehomeless.org
I want to love people of lower economic standing than me. I feel a huge part of the gospel is social justice. It's seen everywhere, with the sexually- wounded pluralist woman at the well (john 4), with the good samaritan (luke 10), Jesus intervening in the lives of outcasts- the sick, the mentally handicapped, the paralyzed, the lepers, the prostitutes, the tax collectors, the smelly fishermen. Jesus came for them. For the broken in this world.
I know this and understand this with my mind. But then why is it, that when I get on the bus, I ignore people who look like they're "white trash" who could be on meth. Why do I ignore those of ethnic backgrounds? Why do I pass the homeless on the street, not acknowledging their total need. The way I act, you'd think I hate them.
I don't though. I live in fear. Fear that I don't know what to say. Fear that I won't know what to do. Fear that I will fail, and they would hate Christ forever because of me.
O, I am a prideful wretch, aren't I?
My friend Monica was talking about an old friend whose a meth addict, living on the streets of portland with no where to go. She's been thinking a lot about him, wanting to do something. But she doesn't know what to do. what to say.
i was thinking out loud about setting up a water stand. and give out free cups of water. it was a thought. water is good. i feel like the need is greater.
and then later on today, i started reading a Burnside Writers article.
"It’s not a final “solution” to homelessness. Sometimes, all we can hope for is to help someone right now, at this very moment. It’s something you can do that you know in your heart will help them get through this day, and perhaps the next. "
This guy suggests making backpacks for the homeless. Go spend that 20 dollars you were gonna go to buy that cute skirt or that concert ticket, on basic needs...food, a blanket, a tarp, toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, a washcloth, a garbage bag and a bible, etc.
then when you see that same person on the street corner, you can give them something from the bag, or give them the entire bag! you could just leave it with them. or maybe come back again and start a repoitroire. choose a spot in a city. pray over it. and then..go!
it's not the end all, no. but its meeting very practical needs for people who suffer a great deal each day.
for more info, go to
www.backpacksforthehomeless.org
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Friday, July 14, 2006
Last summer I attended an evangelical missions conference in West London. This turned out to be a shock to my prior bible-belt raised mentality. Where did a great amount of people gather in their free time? In the pub, right down the street. Being in London with a college/post-college team that only consisted of five dudes besides me, the token female, my team was found in the pub almost every night during free time. Amongst the dwellers were members of the leadership team. We christians packed out this place.
It was there I had my first public consumption of alcohol. It was quite laughable to me, that I was able to drink. We hung out there, smoking cloves and cigars, and laughing and talking in our obnoxious American way. My friends claimed that I was drunk one night, just because i wrapped my long hair around my face and proceeded to act like Aslan. My weird behavior was not completely spurred by alcohol consumption as they thought. Indeed, I am able to appear drunk with nothing but coffee, water, and carbs loaded up in my system. Although I drank some, and smoked more, I never had more than one glass a night.
It was quite a sight to see a bunch of evangelical christians all stumbling together on the way home from the pub, which closed at 11pm every night. A sight that'd be locked in my mind's photo bank for a long time.
This summer, I came from Virgina to the Rose City, to live, be an arts ministry intern, and experience the cultural life that the Dogwood state seemed to lack in. In my time at Imago Dei, I have observed the frequent communal visits to the pubs- for happy hour, for movies, or for rock shows. None, that I, the 20 year old , could actively partake in.
The rock shows are what really gets under my skin. One thing I was excited about, coming to Portland, was the endless nights of musical entertainment. So far, the only thing I've gone to is the Blues Festival. I've been deprived. Deprived of a rich indie music scene I had so longed for.
I decided not to let it get me down. Afterall, there were other all-ages venues (as terribly expensive as they may be). But then, all at once, I found a stream of artists coming to town in July, that I would've been at their show in a moment's notice, if only I were a year older. The Appleseed Cast, David Bazan, Tilly and the Wall, Denison Witmer, among countless others. It keeps happening. All at bars, pubs, lounges, whatever term you'd have for it. And it really pisses me off.
Virginia might not have a rich music scene, but one thing it does have, is access. Access to clubs and bars even if you are not 21. Most of those places will let you in at 18, just with marked huge X's on your hand. These X's might be somewhat depraving, but they do work. With a X on my hand I can go almost everywhere. There was just one concert this year I wanted to go to, but couldn't because I wasn't 21. That actually, was yet again, Mr. Bazan. I hung my head in grief when I found out yet again he was in my reachable range, and yet again I'd be considered a minor.
When I talk about my alcoholic rights I should possess, most of my friends just think I'm obsessed with alcohol. But I can live fine without alcohol, I just want the music. The music is all I want. Why can't they mark X's on your hand at these Portland spots. Are they so afraid of the immature 18-20 year old crowd? Seriously, there are no big maturity differences between a 21 year old and I. The only real differences between a 25 year old and I is real world experience and potentially a college degree.
First of all, I think the drinking age in America needs to be changed. And I'll still support that after my birthday next year.
But for now, these clubs really must consider marking X's on the hands of us "minors". Really, it'd save a lot of grief.
It was there I had my first public consumption of alcohol. It was quite laughable to me, that I was able to drink. We hung out there, smoking cloves and cigars, and laughing and talking in our obnoxious American way. My friends claimed that I was drunk one night, just because i wrapped my long hair around my face and proceeded to act like Aslan. My weird behavior was not completely spurred by alcohol consumption as they thought. Indeed, I am able to appear drunk with nothing but coffee, water, and carbs loaded up in my system. Although I drank some, and smoked more, I never had more than one glass a night.
It was quite a sight to see a bunch of evangelical christians all stumbling together on the way home from the pub, which closed at 11pm every night. A sight that'd be locked in my mind's photo bank for a long time.
This summer, I came from Virgina to the Rose City, to live, be an arts ministry intern, and experience the cultural life that the Dogwood state seemed to lack in. In my time at Imago Dei, I have observed the frequent communal visits to the pubs- for happy hour, for movies, or for rock shows. None, that I, the 20 year old , could actively partake in.
The rock shows are what really gets under my skin. One thing I was excited about, coming to Portland, was the endless nights of musical entertainment. So far, the only thing I've gone to is the Blues Festival. I've been deprived. Deprived of a rich indie music scene I had so longed for.
I decided not to let it get me down. Afterall, there were other all-ages venues (as terribly expensive as they may be). But then, all at once, I found a stream of artists coming to town in July, that I would've been at their show in a moment's notice, if only I were a year older. The Appleseed Cast, David Bazan, Tilly and the Wall, Denison Witmer, among countless others. It keeps happening. All at bars, pubs, lounges, whatever term you'd have for it. And it really pisses me off.
Virginia might not have a rich music scene, but one thing it does have, is access. Access to clubs and bars even if you are not 21. Most of those places will let you in at 18, just with marked huge X's on your hand. These X's might be somewhat depraving, but they do work. With a X on my hand I can go almost everywhere. There was just one concert this year I wanted to go to, but couldn't because I wasn't 21. That actually, was yet again, Mr. Bazan. I hung my head in grief when I found out yet again he was in my reachable range, and yet again I'd be considered a minor.
When I talk about my alcoholic rights I should possess, most of my friends just think I'm obsessed with alcohol. But I can live fine without alcohol, I just want the music. The music is all I want. Why can't they mark X's on your hand at these Portland spots. Are they so afraid of the immature 18-20 year old crowd? Seriously, there are no big maturity differences between a 21 year old and I. The only real differences between a 25 year old and I is real world experience and potentially a college degree.
First of all, I think the drinking age in America needs to be changed. And I'll still support that after my birthday next year.
But for now, these clubs really must consider marking X's on the hands of us "minors". Really, it'd save a lot of grief.
Monday, July 10, 2006
wake up in the morning
i shall wake up, and so shall you
and I, wake up
the sun is beautiful
and it is warming you and I
as fragile as we lie
-eisley
today, my alarm went off.
i realized that my mind knows what my heart cannot grasp.
i woke up to truth.
i cannot carry myself in my relationship with christ. i know this is my mind. not in my heart.
there needs to be a connection. sometimes it's there. on too rare an occasion.
i want to live a life that's confident. not an arrogant, humanistic confidence. but a humble, active, pursuing confidence. one that's unafraid of consequences, fearless of diving in and taking risks. i don't put up that front, but sometimes I am all too petrified and timid. it mostly comes from pride.
i focus too much on the external. on my prided image. like all humans, my flesh is completely devoted to me. how i look to the outside world.
i cracked open my bible, and actually spent a good amount of time reading.
i read the sermon on the mount. it's horribly too convicting, being the performer i am.
i looked up chapter 6 under the message version.
"Be especially careful when you are trying to be good so that you don't make a performance out of it. It might be good theater, but the God who made you won't be applauding. When you do something for someone else, don't call attention to yourself. You've seen them in action, I'm sure—'playactors' I call them— treating prayer meeting and street corner alike as a stage, acting compassionate as long as someone is watching, playing to the crowds. They get applause, true, but that's all they get. When you help someone out, don't think about how it looks. Just do it—quietly and unobtrusively. That is the way your God, who conceived you in love, working behind the scenes, helps you out.
And when you come before God, don't turn that into a theatrical production either. All these people making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat?
Here's what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won't be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.
The world is full of so-called prayer warriors who are prayer-ignorant. They're full of formulas and programs and advice, peddling techniques for getting what you want from God. Don't fall for that nonsense. This is your Father you are dealing with, and he knows better than you what you need. With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. Like this:
Our Father in heaven,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right;
Do what's best— as above, so below.
Keep us alive with three square meals.
Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.
Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.
You're in charge!
You can do anything you want!
You're ablaze in beauty!
Yes. Yes. Yes."
i shall wake up, and so shall you
and I, wake up
the sun is beautiful
and it is warming you and I
as fragile as we lie
-eisley
today, my alarm went off.
i realized that my mind knows what my heart cannot grasp.
i woke up to truth.
i cannot carry myself in my relationship with christ. i know this is my mind. not in my heart.
there needs to be a connection. sometimes it's there. on too rare an occasion.
i want to live a life that's confident. not an arrogant, humanistic confidence. but a humble, active, pursuing confidence. one that's unafraid of consequences, fearless of diving in and taking risks. i don't put up that front, but sometimes I am all too petrified and timid. it mostly comes from pride.
i focus too much on the external. on my prided image. like all humans, my flesh is completely devoted to me. how i look to the outside world.
i cracked open my bible, and actually spent a good amount of time reading.
i read the sermon on the mount. it's horribly too convicting, being the performer i am.
i looked up chapter 6 under the message version.
"Be especially careful when you are trying to be good so that you don't make a performance out of it. It might be good theater, but the God who made you won't be applauding. When you do something for someone else, don't call attention to yourself. You've seen them in action, I'm sure—'playactors' I call them— treating prayer meeting and street corner alike as a stage, acting compassionate as long as someone is watching, playing to the crowds. They get applause, true, but that's all they get. When you help someone out, don't think about how it looks. Just do it—quietly and unobtrusively. That is the way your God, who conceived you in love, working behind the scenes, helps you out.
And when you come before God, don't turn that into a theatrical production either. All these people making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat?
Here's what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won't be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.
The world is full of so-called prayer warriors who are prayer-ignorant. They're full of formulas and programs and advice, peddling techniques for getting what you want from God. Don't fall for that nonsense. This is your Father you are dealing with, and he knows better than you what you need. With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. Like this:
Our Father in heaven,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right;
Do what's best— as above, so below.
Keep us alive with three square meals.
Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.
Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.
You're in charge!
You can do anything you want!
You're ablaze in beauty!
Yes. Yes. Yes."
Vegetarian Diaries
Day one- Saturday, July 8
Today, Marie and I hung out and when we got to Cha! Cha! Cha!, we both realized we were hungry. I ordered a chicken fajita burrito and she ordered nachos. As we were eating, we talked about several things, such as vegetarianism. I've been thinking about becoming a vegetarian for a few weeks now, but have pushed it out of my head cause I thought it'd be too hard. As I was talking to Marie, I realized that in my heart it was something I felt convicted to do.
Not like eating meat is immoral. It does state in the bible that we can eat meat. But the way animals get treated before getting slaughtered is cruel. Plus the mass farmers feed them anything, just about anything to make them fat. Have you ever thought that as you're eating your steak you could also be eating a cat? Cause if they find a dead cat on the farm, they sure as hell will feed it to their livestock. Plus, the way the livestock is raised is wasteful. They use lands that could well be used for vegetation, for the full use of the livestock. Each pound of meat, has about 5-15 pounds of grain in it. You know how much hungry people that grain could feed? So basically, my reasons for going vegetarian are
-environmental sustainability
-ethical problems on mass farms
-world hunger (using our resources well)
-general health
The last one is a kind of selfish reason. I would like to see how vegetarinism effects my energy and diet. Food often has a very fatiguing effect on me, and after I eat most of the time, I feel like physical activity is the last thing on my list. At 20, my health is all well. But in 10, 20, 30 years, it's scary to think of how my health will be doing.
So, I decided in my heart and in mind, that chicken fajita burrito would be the last one I ate. And to be honest, it really didn't taste as good eating it that last time, as it was other times. After that on Saturday, I did pretty well. For lunch, I had strawberries,soy chips with provolone cheese (yes, cheese is a dairy product, therefore from the same mistreated animal. However, for health reasons, I chose not to be vegan). For dinner, I feasted on fried zucchini, cucumber salad, peas, and bread, provided by the Park family's leftovers. There was also chicken teriyaki up for the grabs, but I made the conscious effort not to eat it.
Day 2- Sunday, July 9
As with every sunday here in Portland, I woke up at the early hour of 6am. I decided that an adequate breakfast would be a priority over something like, putting makeup on. I ate two strawberries, blueberries in my chai ice cream, and snacked on some peas.
My digestive track, does seem to be needing to get used to this new diet. But once, I am settled in, it shouldn't be too much of a bother.
For church, I had plenty of energy as I was running around, helping with set-up, manning the sacred space/book table, and helping in kids community.
After church, and a hot bus ride home, I passed out on my bed, until 5:15pm. I was dead tired (I had an exhausting past week, and getting up so early on Sundays always takes something). Getting up was even hard to do. Before the great nap, I did eat some veggies, fruits and bread once again.
I went to home community, where there was a potluck. The turn out was smaller tonight and the only vegetarian option was chips, and I thought, pasta salad. I ate some pasta salad, but then realized there were bits of bacon in it. Not wanting to waste food though, I finished it off. Then later in the evening, my hunger pangs struck again, and I was desperately craving protein. They had barbecued some hot dogs, very plump, nice looking hot dogs, and there were still a bunch left. Leslie said that what wasn't eaten would be thrown out. It was sad to me to see any sort of food go to waste, and being hungry, I gave in and grabbed a hot dog.
It was good for 2 seconds, but then I felt sick. I have felt sick from eating hot dogs before, it isn't uncommon. But this one(with those bacon bits), just did not settle right at all after the last 24 hours. I knew after this, craving those sort of meats wouldn't be a problem again.
I got home, and my roommate and her friends were eating Baja Fresh. mmmmm. I got offered a chicken quesadilla, and turned it down. I took out the veggies from the fridge and dipped them in the baja salsa and guacamole. I also ate some chips, and some grapes. Drank some organic lemonade leftover from the Sacred Space Ceili. I felt a whole lot better. Then we went to Baskin Robbins, and I got a scoop of thin mint and a scoop of tranquility tea. Ice cream, isn't very healthy of course. But it is good. Especially in the summertime.
My whole life, I have been very dependent on meat. I especially love chicken, and my parents' meatballs. I never really liked veggies a lot. Especially raw veggies. However, as I am eating them more, I'm taking more of a liking to them. Being a vegetarian will be hard for me, and I feel like it's gonna be a process. I will eat meat every once in awhile, until I can completely cut it out of my life. Beef won't be as hard as chicken will be(except the meatballs). And as far as red meat goes, I never really liked it. This is certainly a great challenge for me, but I feel like it's a good choice. I don't have any big holdbacks in switching over.
Day one- Saturday, July 8
Today, Marie and I hung out and when we got to Cha! Cha! Cha!, we both realized we were hungry. I ordered a chicken fajita burrito and she ordered nachos. As we were eating, we talked about several things, such as vegetarianism. I've been thinking about becoming a vegetarian for a few weeks now, but have pushed it out of my head cause I thought it'd be too hard. As I was talking to Marie, I realized that in my heart it was something I felt convicted to do.
Not like eating meat is immoral. It does state in the bible that we can eat meat. But the way animals get treated before getting slaughtered is cruel. Plus the mass farmers feed them anything, just about anything to make them fat. Have you ever thought that as you're eating your steak you could also be eating a cat? Cause if they find a dead cat on the farm, they sure as hell will feed it to their livestock. Plus, the way the livestock is raised is wasteful. They use lands that could well be used for vegetation, for the full use of the livestock. Each pound of meat, has about 5-15 pounds of grain in it. You know how much hungry people that grain could feed? So basically, my reasons for going vegetarian are
-environmental sustainability
-ethical problems on mass farms
-world hunger (using our resources well)
-general health
The last one is a kind of selfish reason. I would like to see how vegetarinism effects my energy and diet. Food often has a very fatiguing effect on me, and after I eat most of the time, I feel like physical activity is the last thing on my list. At 20, my health is all well. But in 10, 20, 30 years, it's scary to think of how my health will be doing.
So, I decided in my heart and in mind, that chicken fajita burrito would be the last one I ate. And to be honest, it really didn't taste as good eating it that last time, as it was other times. After that on Saturday, I did pretty well. For lunch, I had strawberries,soy chips with provolone cheese (yes, cheese is a dairy product, therefore from the same mistreated animal. However, for health reasons, I chose not to be vegan). For dinner, I feasted on fried zucchini, cucumber salad, peas, and bread, provided by the Park family's leftovers. There was also chicken teriyaki up for the grabs, but I made the conscious effort not to eat it.
Day 2- Sunday, July 9
As with every sunday here in Portland, I woke up at the early hour of 6am. I decided that an adequate breakfast would be a priority over something like, putting makeup on. I ate two strawberries, blueberries in my chai ice cream, and snacked on some peas.
My digestive track, does seem to be needing to get used to this new diet. But once, I am settled in, it shouldn't be too much of a bother.
For church, I had plenty of energy as I was running around, helping with set-up, manning the sacred space/book table, and helping in kids community.
After church, and a hot bus ride home, I passed out on my bed, until 5:15pm. I was dead tired (I had an exhausting past week, and getting up so early on Sundays always takes something). Getting up was even hard to do. Before the great nap, I did eat some veggies, fruits and bread once again.
I went to home community, where there was a potluck. The turn out was smaller tonight and the only vegetarian option was chips, and I thought, pasta salad. I ate some pasta salad, but then realized there were bits of bacon in it. Not wanting to waste food though, I finished it off. Then later in the evening, my hunger pangs struck again, and I was desperately craving protein. They had barbecued some hot dogs, very plump, nice looking hot dogs, and there were still a bunch left. Leslie said that what wasn't eaten would be thrown out. It was sad to me to see any sort of food go to waste, and being hungry, I gave in and grabbed a hot dog.
It was good for 2 seconds, but then I felt sick. I have felt sick from eating hot dogs before, it isn't uncommon. But this one(with those bacon bits), just did not settle right at all after the last 24 hours. I knew after this, craving those sort of meats wouldn't be a problem again.
I got home, and my roommate and her friends were eating Baja Fresh. mmmmm. I got offered a chicken quesadilla, and turned it down. I took out the veggies from the fridge and dipped them in the baja salsa and guacamole. I also ate some chips, and some grapes. Drank some organic lemonade leftover from the Sacred Space Ceili. I felt a whole lot better. Then we went to Baskin Robbins, and I got a scoop of thin mint and a scoop of tranquility tea. Ice cream, isn't very healthy of course. But it is good. Especially in the summertime.
My whole life, I have been very dependent on meat. I especially love chicken, and my parents' meatballs. I never really liked veggies a lot. Especially raw veggies. However, as I am eating them more, I'm taking more of a liking to them. Being a vegetarian will be hard for me, and I feel like it's gonna be a process. I will eat meat every once in awhile, until I can completely cut it out of my life. Beef won't be as hard as chicken will be(except the meatballs). And as far as red meat goes, I never really liked it. This is certainly a great challenge for me, but I feel like it's a good choice. I don't have any big holdbacks in switching over.
Monday, July 03, 2006
I am developing some weird, twisted sickness.
I will call it post- high school nostalgia
By all means, I do not want to go back to high school. Not at all.
But I miss the people who I knew there. The classes, even some of the ridiculous teachers I had who made life interesting, and I miss complaining about them...
The people who I hung out with at lunch, on the carpet or in the lobby in the morning as I was still waking up, the kids i sat with at young life club and sang songs with, and got rides to McDonalds, the kids who I walked by in the hallway each day who I never talked to, but just that we saw each other in the hallway established some sort of bond.
I look back at all the times I begged people to give me rides, my lack of attendance for the football games and my lack of care for the school even though I was on yearbook and participated in the senior skit. My will to change things, to go against the status quo (even though i often just assimilated into the crowd). I miss the political arguments I had with people. Even though I had no idea what I was talking about, I argued passionately and with vigor. I miss the crazy musicals and plays, and the backstage always filled with as much drama as what was up onstage. I miss key club and crazy Mrs. Beardsley. I miss the geeks, the freaks, the socialites, the superstars, the outcasts, the preps(85% of my school, just about), the downright eccentric kids who ran around with capes on, the little scene kids (there were hardly any scene kids my year and the year after, but sophomores and freshman mostly consisted of them).
I don't miss my self-righteous ways. How I shut people out just because they were "messy".
I don't miss always feeling out of the loop. Always feeling left out. Not a part of anything. And maybe that's because I withdrew so much. Not only was I afraid of giving people a chance, I was afraid of giving myself a chance, because even though i didn't "drink, smoke, do drugs, have sex, party it up", I was the messiest person of all. And I didn't want anyone to ever see it.
I don't long to go back. But as I'm sitting here, on a chair, in a house, in Portland Oregon, thousands of miles away from where I grew up, I want to enter back into relationship with my Manassasen peers. With everyone from "heathenistic" Osbourn Park, with everyone from church and young life who I started feeling cut off from, as I felt they exemplified the "pretty" christian as I was a horrible wreck. With people who I hated at school. With people who I only had superficial relationships with. With people who I was in long friendships with, and all of a sudden, college hits, and I don't speak to them again.
I feel so broken off from them. I dream about them every night. I always dream about the past. I still feel as though I'm in relationship with Manassas, Va, but that it's broken off. That when I went off to college and lost my contacts, I said "screw you Manassas. it's over. i'm done with you." this was solidified with spending a summer in oregon rather than manassas.
i thought i could throw away my relationship with my hometown. that i could disown it. i can't. it'll be with me always.
all i wanna do now, is become friends with people i knew from high school. no matter how i felt about them. i want to enter back into the mess that is manassas. to follow christ in his reincarnation.
but i'm in portland.
i don't think it's a bad thing i'm here either. i think i belong here this summer. i think being here made me realize the huge loss in my life. the quality and diversity of manassas.
but overall, i have spent hardly anytime in manassas this year. fall break, i was working backstage on proof, so i stayed at cnu. winter break, i worked at borders in manassas, but 40 hours a week. i was too exhausted to pour my time into anything else, plus the lack of a car held me back a lot. spring break, i went to the beach with a bunch of cnu kids. i spent like 2 days home. easter, i stayed at school. summer, well as you can tell i am not there. i've been avoiding that place like the plague.
and now i miss it. after all of that.
even if i were back. it'd probably be hopeless. i feel like i don't have much in common with much of those people. i don't have anything to talk about with them. i feel like it'd be a worthless cause.
but maybe it wouldn't.
I will call it post- high school nostalgia
By all means, I do not want to go back to high school. Not at all.
But I miss the people who I knew there. The classes, even some of the ridiculous teachers I had who made life interesting, and I miss complaining about them...
The people who I hung out with at lunch, on the carpet or in the lobby in the morning as I was still waking up, the kids i sat with at young life club and sang songs with, and got rides to McDonalds, the kids who I walked by in the hallway each day who I never talked to, but just that we saw each other in the hallway established some sort of bond.
I look back at all the times I begged people to give me rides, my lack of attendance for the football games and my lack of care for the school even though I was on yearbook and participated in the senior skit. My will to change things, to go against the status quo (even though i often just assimilated into the crowd). I miss the political arguments I had with people. Even though I had no idea what I was talking about, I argued passionately and with vigor. I miss the crazy musicals and plays, and the backstage always filled with as much drama as what was up onstage. I miss key club and crazy Mrs. Beardsley. I miss the geeks, the freaks, the socialites, the superstars, the outcasts, the preps(85% of my school, just about), the downright eccentric kids who ran around with capes on, the little scene kids (there were hardly any scene kids my year and the year after, but sophomores and freshman mostly consisted of them).
I don't miss my self-righteous ways. How I shut people out just because they were "messy".
I don't miss always feeling out of the loop. Always feeling left out. Not a part of anything. And maybe that's because I withdrew so much. Not only was I afraid of giving people a chance, I was afraid of giving myself a chance, because even though i didn't "drink, smoke, do drugs, have sex, party it up", I was the messiest person of all. And I didn't want anyone to ever see it.
I don't long to go back. But as I'm sitting here, on a chair, in a house, in Portland Oregon, thousands of miles away from where I grew up, I want to enter back into relationship with my Manassasen peers. With everyone from "heathenistic" Osbourn Park, with everyone from church and young life who I started feeling cut off from, as I felt they exemplified the "pretty" christian as I was a horrible wreck. With people who I hated at school. With people who I only had superficial relationships with. With people who I was in long friendships with, and all of a sudden, college hits, and I don't speak to them again.
I feel so broken off from them. I dream about them every night. I always dream about the past. I still feel as though I'm in relationship with Manassas, Va, but that it's broken off. That when I went off to college and lost my contacts, I said "screw you Manassas. it's over. i'm done with you." this was solidified with spending a summer in oregon rather than manassas.
i thought i could throw away my relationship with my hometown. that i could disown it. i can't. it'll be with me always.
all i wanna do now, is become friends with people i knew from high school. no matter how i felt about them. i want to enter back into the mess that is manassas. to follow christ in his reincarnation.
but i'm in portland.
i don't think it's a bad thing i'm here either. i think i belong here this summer. i think being here made me realize the huge loss in my life. the quality and diversity of manassas.
but overall, i have spent hardly anytime in manassas this year. fall break, i was working backstage on proof, so i stayed at cnu. winter break, i worked at borders in manassas, but 40 hours a week. i was too exhausted to pour my time into anything else, plus the lack of a car held me back a lot. spring break, i went to the beach with a bunch of cnu kids. i spent like 2 days home. easter, i stayed at school. summer, well as you can tell i am not there. i've been avoiding that place like the plague.
and now i miss it. after all of that.
even if i were back. it'd probably be hopeless. i feel like i don't have much in common with much of those people. i don't have anything to talk about with them. i feel like it'd be a worthless cause.
but maybe it wouldn't.
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