moving to Nola

we're moving this month. 

It's been three years since our last move and these past three years have been so good.  We've gotten jobs and promotions, we've had two baby girls, I've gotten my coursework done, presented papers, and fellowships have been won. 

We're all healthy. We're grateful.

And yet, we've never wanted to set roots down in New Jersey. As good as NJ has been to us, I don't want to be "from" here.  I don't have any family in the area and the housing prices are astronomical in this immediate area.  We could have chosen to move, say, two towns over to more affordable options, but Judah's school has been the draw to stay put.  If we're going to move, I want to move somewhere we can buy and settle.  put down roots.

I am looking forward to building a life in New Orleans.  I hope it turns out to be a place where we can really grow our children.  I hope it turns out to be a place where Chris and I can put in some hard work and see a return-- I'd like to teach an ESL class on Saturdays, we would like to lead worship on Sundays. We want to spend a lot of time with Judah in these, the twilight, years of his childhood.  Can he really already be ten years old?

We're excited, New Orleans. Please be good to us!

miami!

miami! by ericamichelle-979 featuring genuine leather handbags

On Grace...

Note:  I have just begun reading Max Lucado's Grace: More than We Deserve, Greater than We Can Imagine.  This blog post is a type of reader's response to the book.


We will be confident when we stand before the Lord, even if our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. 1 John 3:19-20 NLT

I think one of the most salient, deep cored beliefs of our culture is in the truth of the heart.  So often, we are told, all we need do is to *know* the truth of our own hearts, to listen to that truth, and follow it.  But the Bible, of course, does not agree.  It doesn't refer us to ourselves, our inner depths, as the source of infallible, if personal, truths. It questions us, our motives, and this for me has been so hard.

It is hard to think that one can be wrong, even if she is on a path which "seems right" (Prov. 14:12).  It is so difficult for me to both know that I can be wrong, even if I think I am right, and still make decisions. I want clean hands. I don't want to make mistakes.

This has led me to a bad place, a place where I am paralyzed by my unwillingness to make decisions because I cannot be 100% certain that these decisions are the right ones.  I let so many aspects of my life fall into disrepair from what is tantamount to neglect: I am supposed to be living and active in my own life.  If I do nothing, things start to fall apart.  I can write this simply, but this perfectionism and fear are powerful and I don't feel any breathing room between myself and these feelings.

This week I am fasting these feelings: inadequacy and despair to be intelligently active and righteous in my life.  Really, righteousness? It's funny just typing that word--how can I really be righteous?  But yes, if I am going to act at all I want it to be in love, in kindness, in goodness, in faith. . . in self-control. I want my life to bear the fruit of the Spirit. Righteousness.

The Spirit is not hard on us.  The Spirit is our counselor and our comforter, the lifter of our heads. The Spirit does not bring shame and disaster, does not accuse us of all the evils lying dormant in our hearts or active in our lives.  It is the kindness of God that leads us... not just into repentance but into the goodness of the kingdom and our lives in it.  Repentance is just that first step, but it is kindness all the way through for....


There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1). 

The Spirit doesn't have to parent us in anxiety for our very souls.  There is no anxiety because there is no threat of condemnation. God's Spirit leads us into all truth, in peace and in joy, because we are already God's.  Nothing can threaten this.  Nothing.

The woman caught in adultery, how can we even understand that grace?  The Law was against her, for sure.  But Jesus was for her, for her. I think I understand, now, why it was that Jesus was so much harder on the religious elite.  They had the law on their side, but how insufficient is this law!  It can only issue death, for we are, all of us, sinners. They had the law on their side... but that is it?!  No, we need grace. We need grace. I need grace.  I need to trust God's grace.

I have always been schooled more deeply in God's perfection, in his justice, in His demands for holiness. I have trembled in despair over how to trust this God, who may or may not decide to kill me. But how incredible is it, that God's mercy and kindness and grace, are God's strongest characteristics?  God is perfect and just and holy.  But as concerns me and my relationship with God, God is even more merciful, kind, and gracious than He is perfect and sinless and powerfully holy.

May my heart respond with faith, not fear.  May it stop condemning me.  May my heart instead become sincere in my faith, that I would be able to come nearer to God.

Let us come near to God with a sincere heart and a sure faith, because we have been made free from a guilty conscience. Hebrews 10:22 NCV.

streams of consicousness

Nap times, deferred.
I am sitting here listening to  Ruth Ann Swenson, the opera singer, and trying to tune out the whining of Julia Noel, the two year old.

It's humorous. 

Back in her crib, Camilla, the three month old is also trying to nap. There's precious little "success" around these parts these days.

These days, I really worry about my scholarship. I really do. Because I can't get to it. It's so far away from me.  I am so tired.

And this detachment makes me worried.  I expect a less than stellar end of the year review.  It's to be expected, but I am still dreading it.

I know lots of less productive souls in my graduate department, who do not have me Extenuating Circumstances. So, I think it is best not to freak out and figure out how to get to the work.

Sigh.

I am so tired.

Anyhow, things here improve steadily.  My sister and I have been closer lately.  I feel I can see her perspective more often than not and this has never been the case before!  I start to beat myself up less.

I am not scared of an upcoming move: possibly even across the country to a new place.  I welcome that change. Though New Jersey has been good to me, so I should just be gracious. But still, the people here are all, "stay in your own lane" kind of people. It hurts the Texas in me.

Father's day was low key but still special. Chris is working so hard on the daily to be a good husband and father. It has helped me relax some, but now it is also kind of inspiring me. =)

I saw a dear friend over the weekend and her sweet baby daughter, who is four and almost five years but was still the best surprise for Julia, though only 2, who can't get enough people and playdates.

We're moving in less than a month.

It could be to across the street and into a slightly bigger apartment.  That would be an easy if uninspiring move, but I could live with it just fine.  I have loose ends here that could be tied up better with a little more time (hello exams...)

I'm 35. Sometimes just thinking that is a smack in the face.  I hope not to feel this way at 65. I can't deal with life going this fast....
it's too precious.
I need it to slow down, just a little.

I need to take it in.

In Chicago

Everyone here is really nicer than most other places. When I first lived in Chicagoland, straight from Texas, people didn't seem that nice.  The midwestern hospitality thing seemed more fiction than fact, because I was from San Antonio then.  San Antonio is the nicest place I have ever been. People are just so friendly. 

But now that I am from New Jersey, Chicago appears to be everything it thought it was and I missed it before!  People smile and make small talk in elevators. I am at a conference, so Chris and Camilla went out by themselves yesterday.  Chris said that Camilla was constantly stopped on the street. Complete strangers stopped in their tracks to coo at her and lightly brush the top of her little hands.  Camilla was in heaven. She absolutely loves being talked to.  I am so grateful!  I think people should always take notice of babies. In New Jersey, some people can look right through her, like she isn't there!  It's nuts.

As hard as conferences are, and they are, I find I like them.  This one is particularly grueling-- everyday is 8:30 - 8:30, with a two hour break for lunch and that is basically it, except for five and ten minute breathers as your instructors see fit.  Yikes!  But I really enjoy getting together with other people in doctoral programs to commiserate. It's heartening to see everyone struggling and making progress.  I also find that the workshops, intended to instill me with a sense of purpose and calling and coherence, actually do.  That is a miracle in the academy. This is miraculous. =)

Anyway, time to prep.  I was supposed to be business outfitted, but none of my business outfits fit yet again, after Camilla.  Bleh.  Business wear is too expensive to purchase at my present size. I don't have the money.  Yesterday, because I didn't nurse or pump enough, I leaked through my shirt.  Everything is harder for mothers!!!

But I am still glad to be here. =)

opportunistic mothering.

today Judah played in his first ever concert. he has this trumpet, this really nice trumpet, that my dad bought him.  My dad plays the trumpet too.  Judah told me last night, ahem, last night, that he needed a white shirt, black dress pants, black dress shoes and a tie to wear for the concert today.  Somehow our local kids consignment shop came through for me on all counts!  $50 later, I left, bag of concert clothes in hand.

I had no inkling he would be looking so forward to the concert today. I have wanted him to have a taste of this: of the success you feel when you apply yourself to something worth your time.  His sweet eyes were so shiny about this. He glowed in his recounting the whole scenario: he played every note perfectly.  He did!  He looked so handsome, but still like a big boy, not like a dude or a guy, so I could really get into it. 4th grade has been great year for us. He has grown in his capacity as a scholar, but he is still super sweet and appropriately childish. He still wants to play board games like Connect 4 with us.

When Judah was smaller, I was significantly depressed. Subsequently, Judah came to be attached to my mother in ways I don't begrudge, he needed motherly attention that I couldn't totally provide. But my heart ached a little to wonder, Who would Judah turn to, first, if he got hurt today? In my heart, I knew the answer was likely my mother.  When I thought about this maybe being the case, I just reminded myself that we still have a lifetime ahead of us, and that I can prove to him that he can come to me over time.

He's been so allergic these last few days.  Seasonal allergies have always been a problem for him.  His eyes, in particular, get really crusty and swollen, and there are literally sheets of mucus lining his eyelids at times.  He is on four medications and his pediatrician doesn't seem to be able to do more.  We'll be seeing an allergist next Wednesday.

But in the meantime, he has been coming to me.  I irrigate those eyes. I take q tips and pull out the floating mucus strings. It doesn't gross me out at all! I rub his back when he gets really irritated about it. I get him an ice pack and give him pain killers. He relaxes his posture.

I earn his trust.  He can come to me. I am here for him.

it's happening-- a little at a time. =)

rumination

So much of it comes down to waiting, I think,
so much of it comes down to patience

life unravels.
entropies: they happen.
they aren't coincidental. they always happen.

sigh

i watch and people i used to know
are subject to it
subjected to it
subjects of it

chaos can be good or bad
it really isn't either
it's where they fall (the chips)
its where you fall when it's over

exhale.

(i recommend that you )
don't give yourself over to it
don't abandon your skin and your tissues
all the membranes holding you together 
holding you to your loved ones
holding in your organs


don't defy the wind and the rain
don't scream at them in anger
it isn't personal- -it's this way for everyone

you're one of us

& it's true: if it isn't better yet, it's not the end.

This is (now) what I know: 
we wait for meaning to come round us, to gather us, to-gether us,
like we wait for the sun on the most bitter night
like we wait for the warmth in the dead of the winter
come, wait for the sense of it all, with me.

Counting

It is 10 am ish. Judah left for school about two hours ago, and since then I have been doing some research. But turning my thoughts back to him, this morning, I feel so grateful. At eight years old Judah is a strong boy, with his own ever-renewing interests, an appetite for life, a witty sense of humor, and a highly sensitive emotional life. I can't believe the person he has become already. He is just gorgeous, big brown eyes and floppy red-tinged brown hair, milky skin. I am so grateful.

We found out, on Friday, that I am carrying a little girl. I knew it. It's too complicated to go into, but I knew that this baby would be a little girl and we are so happy. Her name is Julia Noelle. I love her so much already and cannot wait to see her little face. I'm in my 23rd week and I've hit a nice spot wherein I am sleeping pretty well and have lots of energy.

For the first time in a long time, Chris has weekends off. I love it. He loves it. Two days off in a row makes it so much easier to relax. Our Saturdays are getting to be exercises in leisure and we are getting good at it. This Saturday seemed especially long.

It is a virtue to give thanks in every season, but in this season, it is so easy to do.

Morning

Sometimes I wake up really early and I swear, I am a morning person. My head is clear and my attitude is great, if I can wake up at 6. If I wake up at 7 or 7:30, I am an entirely different person.

The day is full- today i will be meeting with my advisor to discuss a book on pentecostalism. It is such a familiar subject that, really, I have to come from the place of an insider/expert because if there is anything I know, it is what it means to be and how to be pentecostal. and somethings, you just don't forget.

I've slept well the last two nights and it makes All the Difference. I have been thrown way out of alignment and had crazy tension and aches in my muscles. I have had carpal tunnel that wakes me up. Here is hoping that some of the interventions I am trying- the chiropractor and the masseuse-- can see me through the next five months. six really. the month after you birth a baby is such a tough time.

I approach this day with gratitude, because in so many ways, it could have been entirely different, and I am thankful for the specific blessings I enjoy right now.

Be well.

Maybe

Well, it has been almost two years and during that time I never felt like posting. Now, all of a sudden, I do.

I live in New Jersey.
I am in a PhD program, in Religious Studies.
I am five months' pregnant.

So, my plate is full.

What is the difference between a full plate and a running-over cup? I suppose it depends... but when your plate is full of blessings and opportunities, I think the difference is perspective. I am, indeed, taxed. So much is expected of my mind at school and even more, is that possible?, more is needed from me in this pregnancy.

it is not an easy pregnancy.

But it is a healthy one. So I am grateful.

In all this commotion, it is so easy to get overly, crazy-making busy. It gets hard for me to hear my own thoughts! Which brings me here. I want to be here because I have no time to be and every need for it. Because life is moving fast, does not seem to be slowing down, and I don't want to miss it.

{Speaking of missing}
Being so far away from Texas, I miss it. I do not miss what I thought I might. I am not given to missing spatial places, I miss, more often, time periods in my life, that kind of thing. But lately, I miss texas. I miss earthy Texas, the slower, grassy parts, the ones with star-filled skies at night and crickets.
And I miss San Antonio, down by La Villita. I won't try to tell you why i miss that particular place, but i do.

I try to ground myself here, in my new surroundings, but-
I find it so hard to be quiet and centered. Does anybody find that comes easily? Tell me your tricks.

There is so much more to write, but I don't want to do so all at once. I want a month's worth of posts that make me notice...

If you are reading this, I hope you are well.

Monday Morning

Honestly, Mondays hardly bother me at all. Everyday seems like a Monday to me, in that I feel each day has a certain amount of potential and it is my daily responsibility to answer for each day's possibilities. I am so stern, so austere. I only see it because my therapist would ask me questions like, how do you love yourself? what? or he might point out that I, my actual self, needs some motivation and a break, that I can not expect to just harvest each day with no reward. Whatever. for all that therapy, I am not exactly different now. I still think like i did, but now I criticise my thinking about it. today is a monday. it is, in fact, full of possibilities. these possibilities are not a burden, they are a pleasure, they are a gift, right? right?
we'll see.

What if today is a gift? sometimes I literally plan things that will take a long time so that I can look forward to watching something and falling asleep. I want the day to be over.
and the weirdest thing about it is that, if I thought about it for one minute, I would know what makes me happy, what makes me tick, is doing otherwise.

Let me get lost in the library. let it rain. let me grab coffee. let me look at big black and white photography books, read some new philosophical theory or psychological study. it is easy for me to charm my life...why don't i ever do it?

today is a monday. watch me charm the hell out of it.

Challenges

I think this will be a mini-post.
I have so many projects going on right now!

While it is a bit overwhelming, I feel happier.
One of them is a little piece of cotton-candy. More fun than anything else, pays nothing, but. . .sometimes the best times of our lives are like that. I started a podcast with two friends. Here is our advert for the second edition, which dropped this morning.

******podcast #2 is available! http://bit.ly/bcegYf you can also pick it up on itunes. smart, sexy, and smells good. it's the perfect 2nd date.******

Everything else is serious!
I am editing a professor's work, looking for a chapter in some of his many presentations... the more I edit, the easier it gets...and I like that... riding the learning curve.

I am working on a presentation that I will be sharing on March 4.

I have my own chapter to write.

All of these projects, they make me so self-conscious. I am out of the practice of turning things "in"--- and in this sense, all of these projects are being turned into peers. It's kinda frightening. The whole process has made me value you all, and your kindnesses, more.

Peace.

Resolutions

The time, it gets away from me.

Where was I? Oh, yes. The resolutions.

My biggest resolutions are psychological, and already under way.

In the past I have conceived of myself on a road that God has mapped out for me. Lots of people have a hallmark, sentimental version of this idea, but for good reasons, I was thoroughly convinced that only God could understand and map out my life. this led to bad things like: no goal setting, sense of powerlessness, depression and anxiety, no sense of personal responsibility for my own life and even sometimes, my own decisions. I was, in a sense, a sophisticated puppet.

for 2010, I have decided to give this up. I have been thinking this way for approximately seventeen years. yikes. Now, whenever I think of any possibility, I consciously refrain from thinking about it as possibly in or against God's plan for my life. I do not think that, if it is, then it will magically happen. I do not think there is nothing I can do to influence the outcome.
I have to rethink everything.

Seems like it should be exhilarating. But i suddenly feel really sleepy.=)
love.

Resolutions

I love the idea of making resolutions. I love the concept of changing for the better. Past New Year's Days have seen the perfect storms of my idealism, my optimism, perfectionism and naivete. I have, like many of you, resolved to lose hundreds of pounds, if you add them all up. I have channeled Oprah to envision my best life. I have tried to nurture my inner Martha, but have born her much false witness: yes, i will be cooking organic homemade meals all year long.

This year is a little different. I am a recovering secret-perfectionist. At thirty, I know too much to be considered naive, and not nearly enough to be considered really knowledgeable or wise. I have a few strengths, but lots of weaknesses, and this certainly puts a damper on my resolution-making zest.

Still, I remain idealistic and optimistic. I still want to be the best version of myself possible, even though I am unsure what constitutes "best." I still think that the world is what we make of it; a rosy-glasses, half-full kind of girl. Kind of woman.

And I am newly appreciating that how I spend my time is really all up to me. So for the next few days, I will be writing out my resolutions and their rationale. I mean to take them as seriously as I take myself. which is to say, somewhat, and to a point. I can laugh at myself, and in the end, i can laugh at these resolutions too, even if they whip me. hey, even that will be kind of funny.

Happy New Year. Happy 2010.

Well, now...

let's see. it's been forever, has it not?

We're all busy.

to recap the last six weeks:

I am back in my hometown, back at the prior job. heh.
For a little while, I was thinking that I would wait another year to apply for grad schools, but everyone but me seems to hate that idea. So I studied and retook my GREs (as the scores had expired) and I did tolerably well overall.

I did awesome on the verbal part, I did alright on the math, and I am hoping that this is enough, that the composition of my score is good enough for me. We'll see in March and early April.

I have to get applications going-- most are due So So soon. it is so much at once. And i am terribly hopeful. hopeful in the extreme, and this is always bad news for me.

really, my chances would be better next year, but it isn't an either/or situation, it seems. I am applying just in case I can get in somewhere good this year and save myself a year.

I just saw chris over thanksgiving and he is doing well. It was a nice, calm holiday. Chris' mother turned out the meal, all I did was be grateful. That is the easy and rewarding part, anyway.

There is just so much going on right now and I feel unsure as to whether i am coming or going.

I have a plethora of truly interesting, compelling projects to attend to: more than I can do, really.
I have no idea which to say "no" to, because I want to do ALL of them.

I am aware I sound manic, but trust I am not, i am still sleeping normally, etc, and of course am not bi-polar, would have let that cat out by now, for SURE!

i never get to watch any tv or blog or read just for fun and it is certainly taking its toll.

okay, that is enough to tire you and me.

Practicalities

We did laundry today. I love doing laundry. It is the chore that has the most pay-off for me, though to be fair, I also like cleaning the car and vacuuming.

It started out as a rainy, cold morning and I was sad. I didn't feel exactly sad, but i couldn't get started. I spent the morning looking up perfumes I like, to identify what commonalities they have between them. (for your information, I like chypres.)

Chris came home from work really early, at 10:30. I made him a sandwhich and we got into bed to nap. Two hours later I woke up, happy and hungry for oreos.

i always want sweets after a nap.

When we woke up, it was because the sun was shining through the blinds really brightly. The rain had stopped... it was like starting the day over again.

I do not have a job here in Boston. I am sad because I am going to Texas this week and looking for work there. Interviewing for a job, actually. I had made up my mind to stay here, with Chris, come hell or high water, but we wouldn't have enough money to send him to Berklee in the spring if I don't make real money soon.

this all comes on the heels of my really counting the cost involved with the year we spent apart. I did, in fact, accomplish each of the goals I set out to this past year. It took longer than I wanted it to, but it was in no way a waste of time.

Chris has been wanting to go to Berklee now for a long time. berklee is Chris' wheaton. we only moved to Boston so Chris could come here. Given what we now know-- that his going will probably take my going back to texas for at least three months, we would probably not have opted to move here in the first place. ah, hindsight. and now that we are here, and he is so very close, we must try. I wouldn't let him give up now if he wanted to. (we are coming up with a nice plan b, in case nothing works out.)

I am trying not to be dramatic, but it doesn't feel like it should be coming to this, again. we have just spent a year apart.

and one month together.
six weeks, actually.
and it has been fun. different.

I have things to be done in Texas; important and pressing things. I have a paper to present in March at a conference that needs more thorough research. as in field-research on the border to Mexico. I have a chapter to write for a book. I also have two separate versions of my thesis that need creating, and submitting for publication. (one of which will be based on the one I present, so it needs the same further-research.) I knew all of this when i drove away from Texas, and i didn't care about it. i prioritized my relationship, and the good faith Chris put in me, letting me go to texas with no caveats. i felt it was right to come to boston, ready or not, to show up where i belong. with him. I didn't know how i would get all that other stuff tended to, but i figured I would find a way.

If i want to be positive about my leaving, to be strong about it, then I tell myself it is the best thing-- that my being in Texas will get Chris and I that much closer to our goals. It is a win-win.

But we're apart and I feel self-conscious about it. Nobody does what Chris and I are doing. And I can easily start crying about the whole thing. like this morning, when he came home.

or...I can take a nap and eat four oreos. do laundry and choose to accept this as an opportunity to return a favor to my best friend, my 8-years-now husband. and I can laugh about this. I can thank God that Chris is driven and committed to seeing me make something specific of myself. I can appreciate that our getting married young means a certain amount of space and flexibility is needed as we grow and change.

I can laugh and tell myself not to be weak, or as we are saying lately, weak sauce.

And seriously, that silly phrase, is kinda doing the trick.;)

Mothering--part 1 of 3

I am reading Ann Patchett's Run right now, and I cannot quite fathom that I am nearly finished with it. It feels like I just started, by I only have approximately 50 pages left.

I recently mentioned how much I love Patchett's work. She is, for me, the quintessential novelist. I love Patchett's gift for creating character-driven drama. My friend, Mary, found it remarkable that Bel Canto is as dramatically moving as it proves to be because it occurs, for the most part, in one house, with the same people trapped in that house. Patchett's characters are superbly, but believably, dynamic.

Patchett's Run is, among other things, a domestic drama. Some of my favorite scenes are those in which Patchett pays homage to the comforts of home. Consider, for instance:

What she would have given to hear her mother's keys right now,
the jingle that preceded the deep click of the lock. Heaven would
be home, to walk into their own apartment together right now.
She would barely get out of her shoes. She would sleep in her
coat and her dress if her mother would let her. She would
collapse into their shared bed, melt into familiar sheets.
Home, bed, sleep, mother-
who knew more beautiful words than these?

I can't remember reading a piece like this before now. Which piece is about a little girl and the intense love she feels for her home and her mother? No fairy tale for sure... as the mother in those tales is usually dead, missing-in-action, ineffectual, or wicked and step-. Which Austen drama? Emma's mother is dead, yes? Sense and sensibility? quite ineffectual. Mrs. Bennet is patently ridiculous. Jane Eyre? orphaned. And my poor, poor favorite, Anne Shirley? It is a home and a mother that she longs for, what she actually achieves in Green Gables and Marilla, though none of that came easily and she was pathetically and thoroughly orphaned before her big break.

Of course, none of this is lost on Patchett, who readily acknowledges her intention for this book in an interview included (in my copy, anyway) at the very end. While commenting on the book's concept of family, she explains:

the wonderful thing about fiction is that you rewrite history.
I kept thinking, What if in fact this family, which seems
completely patriarchal, does in fact run on a matriarchal line,
and that the true power that is handed down from generation
to generation comes not from the father but from the mother?


I am actually forcing myself to digest this book slowly. It is one thing to grow up in a patriarchal society, or maybe subculture, and come to feminism as as a result, which I certainly would own as my own journey. It is quite another to read Patchett extolling the Mother, pronouncing what it is to mother, in a way that can challenge the writings of one's personal history. yes, it is that imaginatively creative and yes, it does the trick. I won't mention the strongest inventions Patchett employs, just so you can feel their full effect should you chose to read her for yourself.

(this post is to be continued, with a connection made to these reprinted pictures from Fall 2007).

Ex-Nihilo

I never, but never, thought about getting married. I never thought about my future husband, what he would look like, how he would treat me. Somewhere that had stopped.

I only have one memory of my future-thinking in matters of love and it is so shadowy- i could not have been more than ten years old. i think i was younger.

The memory revolves around the idea of my having a boyfriend. Not a husband. The part of my boyfriend was played by my parents' bedpost. I admit: i kissed that bedpost.

Chris entered into the role with nearly no conscious scripting.
And yet, somehow, he still seemed woefully out of place.

He didn't fit and I knew he didn't fit from forever. From the beginning, I knew he wouldn't do. But i couldn't let go. i tried to, but i willed not to. i didn't even understand it myself, then.

last night, we lay in bed and i mourned for the irregularities, the grooves that just don't come together, the time we spent apart and the woman I am not. the woman I have yet to become and cannot become by trying. She appears or she doesn't. We don't make ourselves up. I tell him that I am glad I married him, but that i was not ready to marry him. i cried to think about how much sense we fail to make in the day-in and day-out experiences that everyone else seems so adjusted to.

He holds my hand. He laments, our lives together have been. . .bizarre.

I didn't have to say it.

I thanked him, because what he said was true, only he could know how much and there he was, in our bed, holding on to me, when there has been so little positive reinforcement to do so.

I couldn't, wouldn't have made this up, and maybe that is the best part about it.

She said, He said

Synchronous, Synchronicity- sometimes my many streams of self-help converge and I notice a theme. Lately, i keep getting a certain message: i need to develop myself, my goals, my talents...

And just writing that down, typing it out to you, is opening a door in my mind.
So in an effort to "develop myself" I will be writing here more intentionally.
But it will not all be real, not autobiographical like everything else has been.
And i thought that I should let you know that, because it could have been confusing, right?

I decided on writing because writing comes easily and naturally to me, like speaking. I don't know that i love writing as much as i love language and words-- more for the symbols that they are than for the letter following letter-ness of them. I love words. i play with words in my head... like the beginning of this post, i will start with a word and speak its connections...or just turn them over in my mind. synchronous, synchronicity, fate, time, serendipity.

i don't really have any discipline in this or any other matter.
but it seems like i'm being sent the message that now is a good time to start having some, getting some, developing Some discipline.

once when i was in grad school, the professor i went to grad school for gave me an A on a paper I prayed for a C on. i had written the paper overnight, in twelve hours, when it was supposed to reflect two months' worth of work. my classmates talked about their research efforts for a whole month while i did nothing. i got as good a grade as they did on their papers.

It was, actually, a really good paper. And she said so, right before she said, "and your writing is okay, too." Trying to own that it could be better, and also trying to acknowledge the fact that I could be better as a person, i said, "So do you think i need to enroll in a writing class?"
to which she replied,

"No. It is my opinion that you either can or cannot write and there isn't much you can do about it either way. you're writing is fine, passable."

ahem.

There was another professor, a man with a lot of facial hair and an awkward fashion sense, a man who could formally bless us with his hand lifted in the air, right after delivering a three hour long wit-filled diatribe on the History of Christianity, and this man came to mean something to me, too.

And i wrote the hell out of several papers for him; oh! i wrote, friends. And he gave me a B a lot of times, but almost ALL of the time he wrote things like:

your writing sparkles. or your paper haunts me.

and, i am not joking when i say, i would love to write the book that would satisfy them both.

and i am thinking about doing exactly that over the next two years.

Suddenly, it is possible.

I have been, as you well know, turning over all the rocks, as they say, leaving no stone unturned.

It was the only way.

You'll remember that i was disrupted, that there was a sort of rupture, an earthquake of my being

you know the details

and you have felt my aftershocks, absorbed them, because you are kind.

i started to dig through the fundamental rubble, to search it, to replace it, or find it somehow permanently displaced, these

little and small, sometimes quite large, pieces that comprise me.

and i never stopped. everyday i was an archaeologist, examining my ruins, a cracked foundation from time immemorial to myself. my very little self.

i was so thorough.

allow that: for a long time, i could not rebuild. oh, I could rethink but i could not be constructive about it. And in my frustration there was a time I even threw the pieces in disgust

i did not care if I broke myself, so thoroughly fractured and frustrated

but i did not break at all.
somehow there was a freedom in the wild flinging
a resolution to the carelessness
and the rocks don't beg to be turned over and over

and i can construct