I must admit that I imagined this year going differently. This was the year I turned 23 on the 23rd of May, and because of that I somehow expected great things. Instead, it has been a year full of unexpected changes; some good, some bad, and a few great, nearly overwhelming disappointments.
And yet time marches on. Years come and go, accepting or declining our ambitions and dreams. A few milestones remain in this twelfth month of the tenth year of the twenty-first century, but for the most part it has played its brief yet crucial role in time.
Tomorrow my husband and I will have been married for exactly 2 years.
On the 17th I will have been unemployed for 3 full months.
On the 18th my youngest sister will turn 11 years old.
1 week after that it will be Christmas Day.
And 1 week after that we will start the year 2011...
What will it bring?
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Sand searching
"While I truly do love emeralds, we could have made it on green glass!"
The above quote (and title of my blog) comes from the film Thoroughly Modern Millie, when a character tells her friend about how she first met her millionaire husband. As a lowly showgirl, she fell in love with a man she thought to be as poor as she, only to discover that his gift of jewelry was the real deal, not just a shiny fake. She married into a life of luxury, even though their love was strong enough to have taken them through a penniless life together.
A piece of smooth, ocean-tumbled glass would be a comforting object to hold. Right now I feel like I'm combing the beach searching for green glass, but all I can find are worthless shards of plastic.
Matt and I uprooted and moved across the state for a job/new start opportunity that proved to be a bust. Our dream of paying off debt and saving for a house has been flung even farther into the future as we postpone loan payments and inch towards penniless-ness yet again. Our lease on a spacious apartment near downtown Austin was barely signed before we had to give it up (we are blessed to currently be sharing space in my family's home). It's been over a month since we've had any sort of income, and it's frightening how fast our remaining resources have disappeared.
It is my desperate plea to be gainfully employed before Thanksgiving. Matt has to go back to school in January, because we cannot push that back any longer. I would love the opportunity to attend grad school sometime before I am old and gray. I would love to own a house before we have children. I would...
But that is looking to the future again, and for right now my gaze needs to be focused firmly in the present, searching for that small piece of glass that means we're going to pull through.
The above quote (and title of my blog) comes from the film Thoroughly Modern Millie, when a character tells her friend about how she first met her millionaire husband. As a lowly showgirl, she fell in love with a man she thought to be as poor as she, only to discover that his gift of jewelry was the real deal, not just a shiny fake. She married into a life of luxury, even though their love was strong enough to have taken them through a penniless life together.
A piece of smooth, ocean-tumbled glass would be a comforting object to hold. Right now I feel like I'm combing the beach searching for green glass, but all I can find are worthless shards of plastic.
Matt and I uprooted and moved across the state for a job/new start opportunity that proved to be a bust. Our dream of paying off debt and saving for a house has been flung even farther into the future as we postpone loan payments and inch towards penniless-ness yet again. Our lease on a spacious apartment near downtown Austin was barely signed before we had to give it up (we are blessed to currently be sharing space in my family's home). It's been over a month since we've had any sort of income, and it's frightening how fast our remaining resources have disappeared.
It is my desperate plea to be gainfully employed before Thanksgiving. Matt has to go back to school in January, because we cannot push that back any longer. I would love the opportunity to attend grad school sometime before I am old and gray. I would love to own a house before we have children. I would...
But that is looking to the future again, and for right now my gaze needs to be focused firmly in the present, searching for that small piece of glass that means we're going to pull through.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
"How are you today?"
Those words pop out no matter how false they are. Who really wants to know how we are? Certainly not the voice on the other end of the office’s main line, spewing the platitude, getting the expected response and then plunging into business.
“Just fine. How are you?” I replied, eyes red from tears, nose stuffy and sore. But the person on the end of the line didn’t want to know that. “How are you today?” came out of their mouth automatically, and they expected the automatic reply. If I had launched into a description of my real state, I’d probably be fired.
“Not great, actually. My husband was just denied a job that he’s been working toward for the past 6 months, a job that we were sure was a done deal, that this time, finally, after 2 years of tears and crappy part-time positions and barely paid bills, that this would be it. His true calling. The perfect job. Our first real step into the future. We’re both in a state of shock right now, and I really don’t want to be here answering phones this morning. How are you?”
I admit wanting to scream at God two nights ago as I watched my husband crumble beneath the destructive weight of another rejection. The arguments formed like a spiteful storm in my mind, despair pelting like hail.
“Why again, God? Have the past 2 years of rejection not been enough? Can’t you see how much he’s hurting? How much we needed this to work out? Why do you keep setting us up only to let us fall?”
I wanted to, but I didn’t.
Ranting at God won’t solve anything. I know everything He does is for a reason. Sometimes I tire of trying to figure out the reasons. I’m tired, but not giving up.
I’m not as spiritual as I want to be. I admit that days will go by when I don’t really think about God all the much. I have no burning desire to sit and read the Bible for days on end. I love God with all my heart, but I am also easily distracted. I cringe to realize this makes me like a child who ignores a parent’s loving care except for moments of selfish need. I want to turn to Him in the best of times, not just worst of times.
Right now feels like one of the worst times. But I am trusting God, not screaming at Him.
Thank God for Someone who doesn’t expect false cheer in response to His questions.
He knows I’m not as fine as I say I am.
And I know He’s got it under control.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
A hole in my heart
I drive by a XXX Adult Superstore every day on my way home from work. Every day there are cars parked out front. Three cars, four, five, six. It doesn’t matter what day of the week. It weighs down my heart every time I see it. What’s the motivation? “Oh hey, it’s Tuesday, I need to go pick up the latest Playboy.” “Hmm, the wife’s going to be out of town this weekend. Perfect chance to get that new video I heard about!”
I am very solid in my convictions against pornography, and I read an article online today that made me mad enough to spit and sad enough to crumple to the floor in desperation. Is there no way to defeat pornography? Will it forever be a juicy “secret” shared by millions, more and more young boys and wide-eyed girls being scarred and destroyed by it every day?
The article I read was posted on the mainstream news site MSN.com but originated on a tech/gadget site called Gizmodo. Entitled “How to hide your digital ‘collection,’” it gives exquisitely detailed instructions on how to make a stash of pornography disappear into the depths of your computer. The article was placed front and center on the website and accompanied by a photo of a man peering furtively over the top of his computer. “There's no need for it to be a discoverable part of your digital life, or, god forbid, your digital legacy,” reads the article. “Here's how to make sure your private collections are in order, and out of sight.”
The joking, laid-back tone of the article really gets to me. I know that it’s much more popular to be funny than serious in online forums, and this has tragically erased nearly every ounce of seriousness or real conviction from most online discussions. Online is where people talk, and online is where it seems like people don’t ever really care.
But you know what? A spouse or loved one doesn’t have to see documented evidence of an addiction to know that it’s there. It’s evident in the way they act, the way they treat people, the things they laugh at and the way they carry themselves. A person either become less interested in real intimacy with their spouse or want it too much and in a distracted, distant way. Someone can make love while their mind is a million miles away, but you can always tell. It hurts to be used, and it’s almost as bad as a spouse who never touches you at all.
That article – and millions of other ads, brochures and endorsements – plays the subject matter off as no big deal. Their tips will help the badgered user when “…keeping your…family from discovering your bizarre-but-harmless-but-still-pretty-bizarre video collection.” I have experienced the passenger side whiplash of a porn addiction and there is absolutely nothing about it that is harmless. The discovery – or, more often, the confirmation of fears - that a loved one spends days and nights clicking through images of naked, twisted bodies hits you like a cannonball to the chest.
You can’t breathe.
You can’t think straight.
You consider either starving yourself into a fake state of beauty or eating your way into oblivion. What will it matter, when you’re already too ugly for anyone to care about anyway?
You are horrified at the thought of seeing more and yet feel pulled to know everything they’ve seen. If you try to look deeper, to prepare yourself to confront them with everything, you realize that’s impossible. There’s just too much. No one ever just looks at just one site, reads just one erotic story, watches just one explicit video. The web of pornography is enormous and hideously tangled.
You want to scrub yourself until you bleed, though it still won’t be enough. Nothing can get rid of the fact that you know, that you will have to confront them, that you feel sick at the thought.
Grammy-winning artist John Mayer said in a recent Playboy interview that he doesn’t want to be in any more real relationships because he thinks it will never live up to the porn he’s seen. He views hundreds of images a day, always looking for the one that’s better, hotter, wilder, more forbidden. But his search is ultimately fruitless. He’s already lost touch of reality. Can you imagine that? He is so immersed in it that he’s unwilling to reach out to another human, to take a chance on that crazy little thing called love. He’s so deep in fantasy that he can no longer grasp what’s real.
There can be recovery from a pornography addiction, but our planet is fighting as hard as it can to say it isn’t so. We are constantly bombarded and enticed. We are told that it’s harmless, natural, and fun.
The Gizmodo article closes by pointing out that all the work of hiding your addiction can be avoided if you stop downloading it and just view it online instead. “Firefox, Chrome, Safari and even Internet Explorer have private browsing modes, which don't accumulate history, cookies, or local caches of any kind. Use them. Your digital self will thank you,” it says. But your real self won’t. It doesn’t matter if it’s an addiction that’s hidden or shared with everyone you know.
It’s destroying lives.
I am very solid in my convictions against pornography, and I read an article online today that made me mad enough to spit and sad enough to crumple to the floor in desperation. Is there no way to defeat pornography? Will it forever be a juicy “secret” shared by millions, more and more young boys and wide-eyed girls being scarred and destroyed by it every day?
The article I read was posted on the mainstream news site MSN.com but originated on a tech/gadget site called Gizmodo. Entitled “How to hide your digital ‘collection,’” it gives exquisitely detailed instructions on how to make a stash of pornography disappear into the depths of your computer. The article was placed front and center on the website and accompanied by a photo of a man peering furtively over the top of his computer. “There's no need for it to be a discoverable part of your digital life, or, god forbid, your digital legacy,” reads the article. “Here's how to make sure your private collections are in order, and out of sight.”
The joking, laid-back tone of the article really gets to me. I know that it’s much more popular to be funny than serious in online forums, and this has tragically erased nearly every ounce of seriousness or real conviction from most online discussions. Online is where people talk, and online is where it seems like people don’t ever really care.
But you know what? A spouse or loved one doesn’t have to see documented evidence of an addiction to know that it’s there. It’s evident in the way they act, the way they treat people, the things they laugh at and the way they carry themselves. A person either become less interested in real intimacy with their spouse or want it too much and in a distracted, distant way. Someone can make love while their mind is a million miles away, but you can always tell. It hurts to be used, and it’s almost as bad as a spouse who never touches you at all.
That article – and millions of other ads, brochures and endorsements – plays the subject matter off as no big deal. Their tips will help the badgered user when “…keeping your…family from discovering your bizarre-but-harmless-but-still-pretty-bizarre video collection.” I have experienced the passenger side whiplash of a porn addiction and there is absolutely nothing about it that is harmless. The discovery – or, more often, the confirmation of fears - that a loved one spends days and nights clicking through images of naked, twisted bodies hits you like a cannonball to the chest.
You can’t breathe.
You can’t think straight.
You consider either starving yourself into a fake state of beauty or eating your way into oblivion. What will it matter, when you’re already too ugly for anyone to care about anyway?
You are horrified at the thought of seeing more and yet feel pulled to know everything they’ve seen. If you try to look deeper, to prepare yourself to confront them with everything, you realize that’s impossible. There’s just too much. No one ever just looks at just one site, reads just one erotic story, watches just one explicit video. The web of pornography is enormous and hideously tangled.
You want to scrub yourself until you bleed, though it still won’t be enough. Nothing can get rid of the fact that you know, that you will have to confront them, that you feel sick at the thought.
Grammy-winning artist John Mayer said in a recent Playboy interview that he doesn’t want to be in any more real relationships because he thinks it will never live up to the porn he’s seen. He views hundreds of images a day, always looking for the one that’s better, hotter, wilder, more forbidden. But his search is ultimately fruitless. He’s already lost touch of reality. Can you imagine that? He is so immersed in it that he’s unwilling to reach out to another human, to take a chance on that crazy little thing called love. He’s so deep in fantasy that he can no longer grasp what’s real.
There can be recovery from a pornography addiction, but our planet is fighting as hard as it can to say it isn’t so. We are constantly bombarded and enticed. We are told that it’s harmless, natural, and fun.
The Gizmodo article closes by pointing out that all the work of hiding your addiction can be avoided if you stop downloading it and just view it online instead. “Firefox, Chrome, Safari and even Internet Explorer have private browsing modes, which don't accumulate history, cookies, or local caches of any kind. Use them. Your digital self will thank you,” it says. But your real self won’t. It doesn’t matter if it’s an addiction that’s hidden or shared with everyone you know.
It’s destroying lives.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Diary of a young girl
I finished re-reading Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl this afternoon. I hadn't read it since I was probably Anne's age - 13 or 14. It's incredible what she endured, and how eloquently she wrote for such a young girl.
Anne's father was the only member of the Secret Annexe that survived. Some of what Anne wrote must have broken his heart - she longed for his confidence but often felt distanced from him. How useless he must have felt as he watched his family separated and sent to certain death. He preserved Anne's memory by publishing her book and informing the world of what had really happened.
I think of the petty ailments that fill the pages of my journals and wonder how she did it. Anne and her family were in hiding for 2 years - 2 years with hardly any fresh food, hardly any clothes or bedding, and no fresh air. She did all this, and was considered by her oppressors to be unworthy of even the harshest life. To them, she was sub-human.
It's terrifying what the human race is capable of, but it's good to be reminded every now and then.
Anne's father was the only member of the Secret Annexe that survived. Some of what Anne wrote must have broken his heart - she longed for his confidence but often felt distanced from him. How useless he must have felt as he watched his family separated and sent to certain death. He preserved Anne's memory by publishing her book and informing the world of what had really happened.
I think of the petty ailments that fill the pages of my journals and wonder how she did it. Anne and her family were in hiding for 2 years - 2 years with hardly any fresh food, hardly any clothes or bedding, and no fresh air. She did all this, and was considered by her oppressors to be unworthy of even the harshest life. To them, she was sub-human.
It's terrifying what the human race is capable of, but it's good to be reminded every now and then.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The right Place?
Blogger seems to be the current Place To Be for writers. A few years ago Xanga was the Place, and I still have friends to follow on those expansive pages, but it's high time to give this spot a try.
I've had a profile here for a while, mostly for the purpose of posting on other sites. I would like to share my own scribblings, if anyone will read them. Even if no one does, it's a good exercise in consistency for me. A languishing blog is a terrible thing, so a fresh new space should help motivate me to share thoughts and ramblings.
I've had a profile here for a while, mostly for the purpose of posting on other sites. I would like to share my own scribblings, if anyone will read them. Even if no one does, it's a good exercise in consistency for me. A languishing blog is a terrible thing, so a fresh new space should help motivate me to share thoughts and ramblings.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
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