I just hit the "Publish" button on the post called "Aspirations." I clicked "View Blog" to proofread it again, and was struck by that word:
Aspiration.
Out of nowhere, its Latin roots assaulted me unbidden: a meaning "of, from, by, since" and spirare meaning "to breathe."
Aspirations: Something from which we breathe.
Our aspirations--our goals, our dreams, our desires--are not only what we strive to, but what we breathe from. They aren't just in our futures, they are in us now, motivating us. When we breathe, we breathe because we're working toward something, working to be something.
I got up this morning because I aspire to be an English major. To be an English major, I must get up and read things and write things and study things and drink a lot of coffee (it's in the major requirement. Don't check; it's there)--and breathe. Because I aspire to be an English major.
I'm really starting to love the word "aspire." It is a light word. It's airy and crisp and invigorating--like a breath, I suppose, but a really good one. A breath of cool, sharp air that fills you with energy like electricity and makes you want to jump higher and run faster and smile brighter.
Aspire.
To what do I aspire? From what do I breathe?
I aspire to be a lover of words: to speak them effectively, read them closely, write them artfully.
I aspire to be a champion of truth, valuing it in people, institutions, and ideas.
I aspire to travel: to see places that amaze me and meet people who change me.
I aspire to know God and make him known.
I aspire to drink my coffee at a mature pace.
From what do you breathe?
~Stephanie
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Monday, October 13, 2014
Aspirations
You know how some people--and maybe you're one of them--can make a cup of coffee or a bag of M&Ms last for like hours? The cup just sits beside them on the desk as they attend to their work with focus and tranquility, largely oblivious to the delicacy at hand. Occasionally they'll take a sip. The steam starts to subside, but they don't seem to mind. They have mastered the arts of moderation and indifference.
I am profoundly jealous of this mastery.
I first noted this kind of detachment when I was eight years old. Matt, a first-grader, would come over to our house after school if his babysitter had some other commitment. Sometimes Mom would give us a snack--chocolate chips or something--to eat as we did our homework.
My chocolate chips were always gone within the first three or four minutes. They were delicious, and after a single chip, I became a temporary chocolate addict. I couldn't resist eating them one after another until they were gone, and my homework barely started.
Matt did his homework with the meandering, selective attention of a little boy who does not want to use a number line to practice subtraction. However, he ate his chocolate chips the same way. Every few minutes, he would blink at his snack as if he'd just remembered it, pick up a couple of chips, and then immediately forget his snack's existence again.
How could he care so little about chocolate chips? How was he not driven crazy by their tempting presence until it was fully relocated into his stomach?
As a third-grader, I chalked it up to the fact that Matt had funner food at his house (which was true). He was used to candy for snack; it wasn't a treat for him. It has lost its novelty. I wondered if the same phenomenon would be true for me if I ever became rich enough to have fun food on hand at all times.
To some extent, that philosophy proved true. My family now has orange juice on a regular basis, and I no longer feel compelled to drink it all the time just because it's there. The same is true of cookies, and Cheez-Its, and flavored yogurt. I have risen above the animalistic urge to consume these relatively mundane foods.
However.
With "treat" foods and beverages, the art of pacing oneself is still lost on me. I buy a smoothie, and it's half gone before I'm even back in my dorm room. I open a 2-serving bag of M&Ms, and within ten minutes, it's empty. I grab an iced coffee on the way to work, and I'm sucking at the ice fifteen minutes later.
Meanwhile, I watch people around me exercise this intensely classy combination of absentminded appreciation and tranquil indifference to their "treats." Large iced coffees go minutes and minutes and MINUTES without even being touched, and people don't even seem to be struggling to resist.
Maybe they're just all rich and have treats all the time and the novelty has been lost, like Matt with his chocolate chips? Or am I totally and abnormally self-control-deficient when it comes to delicious things?
All I know is that I envy the air of maturity embodied by people who can resist their treats. It's a level of maturity to which I genuinely aspire.
And I will get there, even if it means drinking steamless coffee and drooling on my keyboard.
~Stephanie
I am profoundly jealous of this mastery.
I first noted this kind of detachment when I was eight years old. Matt, a first-grader, would come over to our house after school if his babysitter had some other commitment. Sometimes Mom would give us a snack--chocolate chips or something--to eat as we did our homework.
My chocolate chips were always gone within the first three or four minutes. They were delicious, and after a single chip, I became a temporary chocolate addict. I couldn't resist eating them one after another until they were gone, and my homework barely started.
Matt did his homework with the meandering, selective attention of a little boy who does not want to use a number line to practice subtraction. However, he ate his chocolate chips the same way. Every few minutes, he would blink at his snack as if he'd just remembered it, pick up a couple of chips, and then immediately forget his snack's existence again.
How could he care so little about chocolate chips? How was he not driven crazy by their tempting presence until it was fully relocated into his stomach?
As a third-grader, I chalked it up to the fact that Matt had funner food at his house (which was true). He was used to candy for snack; it wasn't a treat for him. It has lost its novelty. I wondered if the same phenomenon would be true for me if I ever became rich enough to have fun food on hand at all times.
To some extent, that philosophy proved true. My family now has orange juice on a regular basis, and I no longer feel compelled to drink it all the time just because it's there. The same is true of cookies, and Cheez-Its, and flavored yogurt. I have risen above the animalistic urge to consume these relatively mundane foods.
However.
With "treat" foods and beverages, the art of pacing oneself is still lost on me. I buy a smoothie, and it's half gone before I'm even back in my dorm room. I open a 2-serving bag of M&Ms, and within ten minutes, it's empty. I grab an iced coffee on the way to work, and I'm sucking at the ice fifteen minutes later.
Meanwhile, I watch people around me exercise this intensely classy combination of absentminded appreciation and tranquil indifference to their "treats." Large iced coffees go minutes and minutes and MINUTES without even being touched, and people don't even seem to be struggling to resist.
Maybe they're just all rich and have treats all the time and the novelty has been lost, like Matt with his chocolate chips? Or am I totally and abnormally self-control-deficient when it comes to delicious things?
All I know is that I envy the air of maturity embodied by people who can resist their treats. It's a level of maturity to which I genuinely aspire.
And I will get there, even if it means drinking steamless coffee and drooling on my keyboard.
~Stephanie
Monday, October 6, 2014
Double Life
I feel like I'm leading a double life.
On one hand, I am happier than I've ever been in my entire life. I am happier than I ever thought possible--much happier than I deserve.
It's the people: my suitemates are perfect living companions: we get along flawlessly, balancing late-night life discussions and sessions of politely ignoring each other while we do homework. We laugh loudly and often and share inappropriate details about our lives. It is truly awesome.
Cassidy is still my best friend. We understand each other, support each other, and share hilarious text messages that make me burst out laughing in moments of silence. Our relationship feels the same, except older. I think it's what growing up is supposed to be for best friends.
And Gem. Things with Gem are amazingly great. He gives direction to my aimless everyday inefficiencies and overwhelming mundane endeavors. I take the best naps with him. He has the best story ideas. He's the best kind of stubborn. He sent me a Batman ice cube tray in the mail the other day, for no reason. He takes me on dates because he likes to. He sends me spontaneous flirting texts in class and I cannot help smiling.
These people light up my life. Sometimes it almost makes me cry. God is so great. He has blessed me more than I thought possible.
I am so happy.
But on the other hand, I have never been this miserable for this long in my entire life.
This entire semester has been depression and struggle and frustration and helplessness. I have not had a single day where I woke up with a smile and thought I can do this. Every morning has been like a punch in the stomach, oppressive and nauseating.
It's a rule that semesters start off rough, you know? It's hard to shake the summer mindset. It's hard to say goodbye to friends and family back home. It's hard to watch the tan leach from your skin. I expected these routine difficulties. But I did not expect them to persist relentlessly into my third month of junior year.
I am DROWNING in homework, internship, tutoring, and copy-editor duties. Drowning isn't even the right word. Suffocating? Flattening? My Model United Nations class consists of "Here's a textbook. Read it, understand it, and be prepared for tests on it. Also, please become intimately familiar with all current events and events pertaining to the UN from the last fifty years."
There's a conference coming up in November, where I will represent Belgium on a UN committee COMPLETELY ALONE. I have no idea how to prepare for that.
In another poli-sci class, I am the only non-political science or criminal justice major. I have a midterm in that class tomorrow. I haven't had time to study for it.
In all my three English classes, which I love, I think I've completed about ten readings. There has been a lot of skimming and SparkNoting and bullshitting. I hate doing that. I love being an English major. If I didn't have all the tedious, impossible work for my political science minor, I might love my life.
But as things are, I honest-to-God do not know how I'm going to keep going. Am I going to start failing classes? Am I going to start getting sick all the time? Am I going to lose myself in this relentless struggle to juggle my life?
I feel so trapped. There aren't classes or jobs that I can drop. I have to keep doing everything, but it's only going to get worse, and I'm barely keeping my head above water as is.
I love school because I love learning. But at the same time, I do not want to do this anymore. I am so over being constantly graded. I am so over living a life that is functionally disconnected from Gem. I am so over the entanglements of busy work and...just academics.
I know that I don't want to quit school, but at the same time, these overwhelming feelings of depression and helplessness are not tapering off as the semester progresses the way they normally do.
I'm just frustrated. I know exactly what I want with my life, I just can't reach it yet, and I can't tell if I'm on the surest, most efficient path toward that goal. Am I somehow causing myself unnecessary pain and stress? Or is this just the way it has to be for now?
No answers, only questions.
The reality of impending adultness continues.
~Stephanie
On one hand, I am happier than I've ever been in my entire life. I am happier than I ever thought possible--much happier than I deserve.
It's the people: my suitemates are perfect living companions: we get along flawlessly, balancing late-night life discussions and sessions of politely ignoring each other while we do homework. We laugh loudly and often and share inappropriate details about our lives. It is truly awesome.
Cassidy is still my best friend. We understand each other, support each other, and share hilarious text messages that make me burst out laughing in moments of silence. Our relationship feels the same, except older. I think it's what growing up is supposed to be for best friends.
And Gem. Things with Gem are amazingly great. He gives direction to my aimless everyday inefficiencies and overwhelming mundane endeavors. I take the best naps with him. He has the best story ideas. He's the best kind of stubborn. He sent me a Batman ice cube tray in the mail the other day, for no reason. He takes me on dates because he likes to. He sends me spontaneous flirting texts in class and I cannot help smiling.
These people light up my life. Sometimes it almost makes me cry. God is so great. He has blessed me more than I thought possible.
I am so happy.
But on the other hand, I have never been this miserable for this long in my entire life.
This entire semester has been depression and struggle and frustration and helplessness. I have not had a single day where I woke up with a smile and thought I can do this. Every morning has been like a punch in the stomach, oppressive and nauseating.
It's a rule that semesters start off rough, you know? It's hard to shake the summer mindset. It's hard to say goodbye to friends and family back home. It's hard to watch the tan leach from your skin. I expected these routine difficulties. But I did not expect them to persist relentlessly into my third month of junior year.
I am DROWNING in homework, internship, tutoring, and copy-editor duties. Drowning isn't even the right word. Suffocating? Flattening? My Model United Nations class consists of "Here's a textbook. Read it, understand it, and be prepared for tests on it. Also, please become intimately familiar with all current events and events pertaining to the UN from the last fifty years."
There's a conference coming up in November, where I will represent Belgium on a UN committee COMPLETELY ALONE. I have no idea how to prepare for that.
In another poli-sci class, I am the only non-political science or criminal justice major. I have a midterm in that class tomorrow. I haven't had time to study for it.
In all my three English classes, which I love, I think I've completed about ten readings. There has been a lot of skimming and SparkNoting and bullshitting. I hate doing that. I love being an English major. If I didn't have all the tedious, impossible work for my political science minor, I might love my life.
But as things are, I honest-to-God do not know how I'm going to keep going. Am I going to start failing classes? Am I going to start getting sick all the time? Am I going to lose myself in this relentless struggle to juggle my life?
I feel so trapped. There aren't classes or jobs that I can drop. I have to keep doing everything, but it's only going to get worse, and I'm barely keeping my head above water as is.
I love school because I love learning. But at the same time, I do not want to do this anymore. I am so over being constantly graded. I am so over living a life that is functionally disconnected from Gem. I am so over the entanglements of busy work and...just academics.
I know that I don't want to quit school, but at the same time, these overwhelming feelings of depression and helplessness are not tapering off as the semester progresses the way they normally do.
I'm just frustrated. I know exactly what I want with my life, I just can't reach it yet, and I can't tell if I'm on the surest, most efficient path toward that goal. Am I somehow causing myself unnecessary pain and stress? Or is this just the way it has to be for now?
No answers, only questions.
The reality of impending adultness continues.
~Stephanie
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Surprising Existence
Remember when I posted my list of 50 Desirable Guy Qualities last November? I called the post "A Non-Existent Character."
Today, as I procrastinate a little during lunchtime, I remembered that post. Seeing as I'm dating someone I'm pretty crazy about, I decided to look at the list in light of Gem, just to see where things stood.
I'm not sure if you guys particularly care about this, as it really just pertains to me, but hey, this is my blog and I'll do what I want.
Here's the original post, with new comments in italics; green means Gem's got it.
Stephanie's List of Desirable Guy Qualities (in mostly no particular order)
1. Christian - Gem is one of the realist Christians I know.
2. musician {note: not "plays an instrument." I think playing an instrument and being a musician are
different things.} - This one is tricky. Gem plays the piano well, but he is not a musician. But he has the most amazing sixth sense with music I've ever seen. I'll have to explain it in a whole post sometime.
3. can dance
4. dark hair
5. good singing voice
6. likes to read - And he actually does. A LOT.
7. self-motivated - Depends. But in the interest of not going completely and totally overboard complimenting him, I'm gonna leave this black.
8. in good shape - *blush*
9. knows what he wants to do with his life
10. knows how to make his dreams a reality
11. loves Disney
12. has a sense of irony
13. has the same sense of humor as me
14. knows when to stop
15. likes kids
16. plays a sport - Used to be a swimmer
17. stubborn - Yes, but in an unusual way. It's like he's infinitely patient and steadfast when his mind is made up.
18. able to converse in an engaging and effective manner with people of all ages
19. a science or math person, maybe
20. likes to argue
21. pretty eyes
22. honest {includes keeping promises as well as not lying}
23. crooked smile
24. expressive eyebrows
25. will fight for those he loves
26. taller than me
27. tan
28. Having done drugs is not a problem, but he has to be morally against them now. - He has not done them, never will, and is against them.
29. mindful of money
30. Chivalrous. Opens doors, walks a girl home/to her car/to her dorm, sits on the outside at restaurants, walks next to the road, carries stuff, pays for stuff.
31. unselfish - He likes to do unselfish things for people, but part of it is that he likes to feel like a hero XD Sooo, not sure if this counts as totally unselfish. But to the untrained eye, yes.
32. not in the military
33. cusses occasionally and artfully - "Hell" and "damn" are pretty much the extent of it, but his comedic timing is pretty good.
34. can start a real fire
35. can tie real knots
36. good/similar taste as me in music - Mmm. This is a weird one too. We have pretty different taste in music. But...I have to say that his taste is also "good" because of simply how good he is with music.
37. doesn't disrespect his girlfriend when talking to his friends
38. can help me with writing - He's very perceptive and "real" with his help. He doesn't just compliment my writing, he points out inconsistencies or things that don't make sense, and gives real suggestions. It really took me aback at first, but I appreciate it a ton now.
39. good with directions - Freaking unbelievably good.
40. assertive - He's very careful and tactful with his words, but he is not afraid to take the lead in conversations or call me out on my BS.
41. good grasp of grammar - Yes. However, he does the your/you're thing entirely too often.
42. hard-working
43. confident
44. understands me - He understands me in this weirdly simple way, like it's natural and uncomplicated, even when I don't even understand myself.
45. patient {I'm not talking about the angelic sort of patience, but the calm, persistent kind of patience} - Yes. Just yes.
46. observant - Freakishly.
47. not a Yankee
48. politically conservative
49. adventurous - This is weird. I'd describe him as "adventurous" even though he's, like, kinda not. He likes adventures, but he's generally very practical and cautious--which is great, because it balances my ridiculous, dangerous impulsiveness.
50. writes letters - He does for me :)
45/50. Not bad for a non-existent character :)
~Stephanie
Today, as I procrastinate a little during lunchtime, I remembered that post. Seeing as I'm dating someone I'm pretty crazy about, I decided to look at the list in light of Gem, just to see where things stood.
I'm not sure if you guys particularly care about this, as it really just pertains to me, but hey, this is my blog and I'll do what I want.
Here's the original post, with new comments in italics; green means Gem's got it.
Stephanie's List of Desirable Guy Qualities (in mostly no particular order)
1. Christian - Gem is one of the realist Christians I know.
2. musician {note: not "plays an instrument." I think playing an instrument and being a musician are
different things.} - This one is tricky. Gem plays the piano well, but he is not a musician. But he has the most amazing sixth sense with music I've ever seen. I'll have to explain it in a whole post sometime.
3. can dance
4. dark hair
5. good singing voice
6. likes to read - And he actually does. A LOT.
7. self-motivated - Depends. But in the interest of not going completely and totally overboard complimenting him, I'm gonna leave this black.
8. in good shape - *blush*
9. knows what he wants to do with his life
10. knows how to make his dreams a reality
11. loves Disney
12. has a sense of irony
13. has the same sense of humor as me
14. knows when to stop
15. likes kids
16. plays a sport - Used to be a swimmer
17. stubborn - Yes, but in an unusual way. It's like he's infinitely patient and steadfast when his mind is made up.
18. able to converse in an engaging and effective manner with people of all ages
19. a science or math person, maybe
20. likes to argue
21. pretty eyes
22. honest {includes keeping promises as well as not lying}
23. crooked smile
24. expressive eyebrows
25. will fight for those he loves
26. taller than me
27. tan
28. Having done drugs is not a problem, but he has to be morally against them now. - He has not done them, never will, and is against them.
29. mindful of money
30. Chivalrous. Opens doors, walks a girl home/to her car/to her dorm, sits on the outside at restaurants, walks next to the road, carries stuff, pays for stuff.
31. unselfish - He likes to do unselfish things for people, but part of it is that he likes to feel like a hero XD Sooo, not sure if this counts as totally unselfish. But to the untrained eye, yes.
32. not in the military
33. cusses occasionally and artfully - "Hell" and "damn" are pretty much the extent of it, but his comedic timing is pretty good.
34. can start a real fire
35. can tie real knots
36. good/similar taste as me in music - Mmm. This is a weird one too. We have pretty different taste in music. But...I have to say that his taste is also "good" because of simply how good he is with music.
37. doesn't disrespect his girlfriend when talking to his friends
38. can help me with writing - He's very perceptive and "real" with his help. He doesn't just compliment my writing, he points out inconsistencies or things that don't make sense, and gives real suggestions. It really took me aback at first, but I appreciate it a ton now.
39. good with directions - Freaking unbelievably good.
40. assertive - He's very careful and tactful with his words, but he is not afraid to take the lead in conversations or call me out on my BS.
41. good grasp of grammar - Yes. However, he does the your/you're thing entirely too often.
42. hard-working
43. confident
44. understands me - He understands me in this weirdly simple way, like it's natural and uncomplicated, even when I don't even understand myself.
45. patient {I'm not talking about the angelic sort of patience, but the calm, persistent kind of patience} - Yes. Just yes.
46. observant - Freakishly.
47. not a Yankee
48. politically conservative
49. adventurous - This is weird. I'd describe him as "adventurous" even though he's, like, kinda not. He likes adventures, but he's generally very practical and cautious--which is great, because it balances my ridiculous, dangerous impulsiveness.
50. writes letters - He does for me :)
45/50. Not bad for a non-existent character :)
~Stephanie
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Giaraffe Emesis
I hope that this will be a brief post. I've been really productive this evening, so I don't want to break my flow, but I was also suddenly seized with the need to say something here.
I've been blowing through pages in my "New United Nations" textbook like nobody's business. Seriously, I think I read like twelve pages in an hour and a half, and that is flat-out UNHEARD OF. I'm even in the basement of the library, a place I usually reserve for literary homework. I have a strict No PolySci Homework policy when it comes to the library: I don't want to taint these sacred halls with the wrong kind of stress.
But this evening, polysci did not stress me out, so I made an exception.
Since coming to college, I have been listening almost exclusively to Mutemath's self-titled album. When I start getting ready for bed, I turn on Mutemath and hit my iHome's Sleep button until it promises to turn off in 30 minutes. Sometimes I'm asleep by the time the music stops; sometimes Gem keeps me up longer.
At any given time, I have 70+ pages of reading to do. I must read about the evolution of the United Nations; I must read about ethical philosophers and how their views apply to the government; I must read about different literary approaches (Allison: "So you're literally reading about reading?" Me: "...well, when you say it like THAT..."); I must read "Emma," which is wonderful; and I must read about how to write.
And sometimes I get to read about a girl who plays with fire, but not often enough to maintain continuity or remember my place.
When I'm not reading, sometimes I watch Lost. I am on Season 1, Episode 12, so no spoilers. I really like Sayid. I really hate Sawyer, but you're supposed to.
My school internship is going really, really well. I'm writing letters of inquiry, which means I get to write about Campbell University's projects in ways that appeal to lots of different money-giving foundations. I get to take one project and spin it ten or twelve different ways, exercising my creativity and persuasive skills. It is incredibly fun to me.
My alarm didn't go off yesterday morning. I woke up one minute before my class started. I was still only eleven minutes late.
My suitemates are amazing. We stay up and talk and laugh til we cry. I always have people to do things with, but they also understand my need to be left alone. We have "family dinner" every Monday night, which, so far, has consisted of Harley making spaghetti and us pulling together every table-like surface in the apartment to have room to seat everyone.
This Saturday, Gem and his sister, Abigail, are visiting. Harley's making tacos. We will not have enough table surface, but we've decided not to address that until the problem is staring us in the face. It'll be fine.
I'll be glad to see Gem, although not having any alone time with him will be a little disappointing.
How are you all doing? :)
~Stephanie
I've been blowing through pages in my "New United Nations" textbook like nobody's business. Seriously, I think I read like twelve pages in an hour and a half, and that is flat-out UNHEARD OF. I'm even in the basement of the library, a place I usually reserve for literary homework. I have a strict No PolySci Homework policy when it comes to the library: I don't want to taint these sacred halls with the wrong kind of stress.
But this evening, polysci did not stress me out, so I made an exception.
Since coming to college, I have been listening almost exclusively to Mutemath's self-titled album. When I start getting ready for bed, I turn on Mutemath and hit my iHome's Sleep button until it promises to turn off in 30 minutes. Sometimes I'm asleep by the time the music stops; sometimes Gem keeps me up longer.
At any given time, I have 70+ pages of reading to do. I must read about the evolution of the United Nations; I must read about ethical philosophers and how their views apply to the government; I must read about different literary approaches (Allison: "So you're literally reading about reading?" Me: "...well, when you say it like THAT..."); I must read "Emma," which is wonderful; and I must read about how to write.
And sometimes I get to read about a girl who plays with fire, but not often enough to maintain continuity or remember my place.
When I'm not reading, sometimes I watch Lost. I am on Season 1, Episode 12, so no spoilers. I really like Sayid. I really hate Sawyer, but you're supposed to.
My school internship is going really, really well. I'm writing letters of inquiry, which means I get to write about Campbell University's projects in ways that appeal to lots of different money-giving foundations. I get to take one project and spin it ten or twelve different ways, exercising my creativity and persuasive skills. It is incredibly fun to me.
My alarm didn't go off yesterday morning. I woke up one minute before my class started. I was still only eleven minutes late.
My suitemates are amazing. We stay up and talk and laugh til we cry. I always have people to do things with, but they also understand my need to be left alone. We have "family dinner" every Monday night, which, so far, has consisted of Harley making spaghetti and us pulling together every table-like surface in the apartment to have room to seat everyone.
This Saturday, Gem and his sister, Abigail, are visiting. Harley's making tacos. We will not have enough table surface, but we've decided not to address that until the problem is staring us in the face. It'll be fine.
I'll be glad to see Gem, although not having any alone time with him will be a little disappointing.
How are you all doing? :)
Road Trip: the Arch in St. Louis :)
Whatever Campbell's shortcomings, scenery isn't one of them.
Road Trip: Chicago
Gem: "Oops, these are too small for me...maybe you want them?"
True love.
Road Trip: the Bean
~Stephanie
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
But Only a Little Bit
I am lying on my bed with a stomachache. Normally I would write this kind of thing in my journal, but that would require me not to lie on my back with my eyes closed.
I am stressed and I have a lot to do, but I have decided that it is okay for me to lie here for a while until I don't see the world in roiling waves of green nausea. I think that is one of the marks of being an adult: having to assess whether or not you can afford to ignore your work for a bit. When you're a kid, you can ignore your work all day every day and not think twice about it. No guilt. No stress. That's why there are grown-ups: to make you do your work.
But now I'm a little bit of a grown-up. I have to buy my own paper towels and toothpaste and chocolate milk. I have to get out of bed and wash my dishes and turn my light off at a decent hour. I have to wear clothes that fit the occasion and compose emails professionally and dedicate enough time to my homework.
{But I'm still in college, living on campus, so there's a lot of adultism that I haven't had to deal with yet. I'm pretty glad.}
Blugh. I just want someone to hand me peppermint tea and make me smile and help me see that the 70+ pages of political ethics and United Nations reading isn't actually going to kill me. I want someone to tell me that they liked my pigtails today and that having a tiny gold Batman ring is pretty much the coolest thing they've ever seen. I want to sit close to someone around whom I don't have to hold my stomach in or keep my shoulders back or try to look pleasant.
I sort of want to come apart real quick, but not in a helpless, emotional way. I just want to unstitch myself, come apart at the seams, and spill out all the stuff inside my heart and mind. I want someone to listen to me mumble aloud my chaotically elegant train of thought and not judge me based on conversational relevance or profundity.
Hmm. I'm starting to feel better--somewhat unfortunately. I can no longer justify lying here on my back with my eyes closed. I guess I have to go do my work now.
Alas, I am a little bit of a grown-up.
~Stephanie
I am stressed and I have a lot to do, but I have decided that it is okay for me to lie here for a while until I don't see the world in roiling waves of green nausea. I think that is one of the marks of being an adult: having to assess whether or not you can afford to ignore your work for a bit. When you're a kid, you can ignore your work all day every day and not think twice about it. No guilt. No stress. That's why there are grown-ups: to make you do your work.
But now I'm a little bit of a grown-up. I have to buy my own paper towels and toothpaste and chocolate milk. I have to get out of bed and wash my dishes and turn my light off at a decent hour. I have to wear clothes that fit the occasion and compose emails professionally and dedicate enough time to my homework.
{But I'm still in college, living on campus, so there's a lot of adultism that I haven't had to deal with yet. I'm pretty glad.}
Blugh. I just want someone to hand me peppermint tea and make me smile and help me see that the 70+ pages of political ethics and United Nations reading isn't actually going to kill me. I want someone to tell me that they liked my pigtails today and that having a tiny gold Batman ring is pretty much the coolest thing they've ever seen. I want to sit close to someone around whom I don't have to hold my stomach in or keep my shoulders back or try to look pleasant.
I sort of want to come apart real quick, but not in a helpless, emotional way. I just want to unstitch myself, come apart at the seams, and spill out all the stuff inside my heart and mind. I want someone to listen to me mumble aloud my chaotically elegant train of thought and not judge me based on conversational relevance or profundity.
Hmm. I'm starting to feel better--somewhat unfortunately. I can no longer justify lying here on my back with my eyes closed. I guess I have to go do my work now.
Alas, I am a little bit of a grown-up.
~Stephanie
Monday, July 28, 2014
Yahweh
As I sit at my desk, waiting for my 11 o'clock interviewee to pick up her phone, it strikes me that it has been more than a month since I posted here. Or anywhere, really. I haven't posted on Reason in the Rhyme in even MORE than more than a month. That is especially embarrassing, because it's my "professional" blog. I am literally broadcasting that I am a writer who does not write.
But while I've been living my life and not writing, things have been going rather well. My not-so-little-anymore sister went to Europe and returned without trauma. My church hosted an awesome pastor named Peter Lord. Two of my unbiological brothers are now allowed to consume alcohol in public. Cassidy has slept at my house and dog sitting houses more than at her own. My parents have been great givers of freedom and trust to me. And Gem has been, well, the only person I can imagine wanting to spend my life with. What's new.
Oh, and I cleaned my room. Once.
All in all, my takeaway for this half of the summer has been that God is real. I'm not sure exactly why. I haven't seen anyone instantaneously cured of cancer before my eyes. {But I did see a woman with unexplainable, persistent back pain feel better a day after my church laid hands on her and prayed.} I haven't had amazing quiet times. {But I have been HAVING quiet times, as short and shallow as they sometimes are.} I haven't had incredible supernatural powers. {Although I think I have finally forgiven the biggest offense ever committed to me, which is nothing short of a miracle.} God didn't suddenly unveil his master plans to me. {But he did prove to me that his love and promises are true.}
It's interesting: I didn't plan any of those bracketed statements. I was actually just trying to explain to you why it didn't make sense for me to feel so strongly that GOD IS REAL. But as I sit here and try to tell you that this hasn't been a God summer, I am convicted even more strongly that it WAS. It so was.
I see God working in the lives of everyone around me, and it's inspiring. Cassidy is journaling and studying the Bible and examining her future plans, and I really feel a huge difference in the strength of her character. She's becoming more of who she is in God, and it inspires me.
Sarah says things like, "I feel pretty good about it. I've been praying a lot," and my eyes open to the fact that she is not just my little sister, but a very effective and committed warrior of Christ.
Gem...God is so real to Gem that sometimes it's like I can feel God through Gem. I don't know how else to say it. Gem prays to God like he expects an answer. He turns to God like he expects to be supported. He listens to God like he trusts him. He pursues God like he finds him enthralling.
God is so real to me right now. I want to know him. I want to follow him. I want to be on his side.
I hope this post doesn't seem like directionless fluff. I didn't know what I wanted to say when I sat down, but I think this is it. I think this is what I wanted to say.
God is real, and I hope this post has piqued the interest of your heart, because God really wants to know you.
~Stephanie
P.S. It just occurred to me that I chose "True" as my word of the year. Authentic. Real. Huh :)
But while I've been living my life and not writing, things have been going rather well. My not-so-little-anymore sister went to Europe and returned without trauma. My church hosted an awesome pastor named Peter Lord. Two of my unbiological brothers are now allowed to consume alcohol in public. Cassidy has slept at my house and dog sitting houses more than at her own. My parents have been great givers of freedom and trust to me. And Gem has been, well, the only person I can imagine wanting to spend my life with. What's new.
Oh, and I cleaned my room. Once.
All in all, my takeaway for this half of the summer has been that God is real. I'm not sure exactly why. I haven't seen anyone instantaneously cured of cancer before my eyes. {But I did see a woman with unexplainable, persistent back pain feel better a day after my church laid hands on her and prayed.} I haven't had amazing quiet times. {But I have been HAVING quiet times, as short and shallow as they sometimes are.} I haven't had incredible supernatural powers. {Although I think I have finally forgiven the biggest offense ever committed to me, which is nothing short of a miracle.} God didn't suddenly unveil his master plans to me. {But he did prove to me that his love and promises are true.}
It's interesting: I didn't plan any of those bracketed statements. I was actually just trying to explain to you why it didn't make sense for me to feel so strongly that GOD IS REAL. But as I sit here and try to tell you that this hasn't been a God summer, I am convicted even more strongly that it WAS. It so was.
I see God working in the lives of everyone around me, and it's inspiring. Cassidy is journaling and studying the Bible and examining her future plans, and I really feel a huge difference in the strength of her character. She's becoming more of who she is in God, and it inspires me.
Sarah says things like, "I feel pretty good about it. I've been praying a lot," and my eyes open to the fact that she is not just my little sister, but a very effective and committed warrior of Christ.
Gem...God is so real to Gem that sometimes it's like I can feel God through Gem. I don't know how else to say it. Gem prays to God like he expects an answer. He turns to God like he expects to be supported. He listens to God like he trusts him. He pursues God like he finds him enthralling.
God is so real to me right now. I want to know him. I want to follow him. I want to be on his side.
I hope this post doesn't seem like directionless fluff. I didn't know what I wanted to say when I sat down, but I think this is it. I think this is what I wanted to say.
God is real, and I hope this post has piqued the interest of your heart, because God really wants to know you.
~Stephanie
P.S. It just occurred to me that I chose "True" as my word of the year. Authentic. Real. Huh :)
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