discoveries of the day

At work today someone told me I should work at DisneyWorld and give people tours -- something about my being very friendly and gift-of-gabbish. Weird. . .

One of my friends (an older friend -- who has two kids, one of them fairly close to me in age) talked to me today -- for a really long time. She unloaded all her feelings of uncertainty and betrayal and worry for her kids. She told me of her hopes and fears. It was surprising to me, in a way. For some reason, I sort of assumed that "adults" didn't get problems -- that once past school, things just didn't worry one, that if there was no term paper to stress out about, everything else would be hunky dory. For some reason, I never realized that problems just get deeper, more personal, more important -- because they deal more and more with taking care of the people you love the most.

Tired

Tired
So much that every muscle hurts
And every bone creaks
And each breath brings a renewed onslaught
of exhaustion
And I can't think
My every thought is chained and burdened
Unable to escape from this mire
of nothingness
And there is nothing that can be done
Until everything is finished
And at long, long last,
I can go

to sleep

Chris

You know, it's kind of funny how many times people have mistakenly assumed that Chris and I are going out. Maybe if we looked more alike, people would be less confused. But I don't really think I would change anything about him or about me because I'm quite happy with the way things are. He is a really wonderful cousin -- but what's more, he's a good friend, not to mention the teasing, affectionate, protective older brother I never had.
I'm good friends with most of my cousins, but there's something special about Chris. I just feel so comfortable around him. We work really well together, although we do sometimes act very much like brother and sister. He has this awful habit of tickling me . . .
And Chris is such a good listener. He's like the "psychologist" or something. Sometimes, it seems as if everyone on campus has a problem, and they absolutely have to talk it out with him. Because he really does care about people and take the time to listen and be patient. And his advice is actually useful.
But what I admire most about him is his incredible ability to sacrifice unspeakingly. He will do almost anything for the people he loves, no matter how it hurts him -- financially, time-wise, whatever. And he doesn't brag about his great deeds. And he doesn't tell everyone that really he is extremely smart -- and knows Greek and is great at sports and preaching. And part of that is just because
he doesn't realize he's this great.
And that's part of the reason that makes him so incredible.

Blisters hurt . . . especially when one is taking a shower . . .

Soccer Practice

The temperature is 98F, technically, but with the humidity factored in, it's well over 100F. The sun, a gentle playmate in spring, suddenly turns and glares. I can feel my skin soaking it in, growing warmer, redder. I can almost feel freckles growing.

My feet pound, cleats biting the surface of the field, the scent of fresh mown grass, sweat, and dust mingling in the air. The warm up laps are wonderful. I still have energy and lope easily across the ground. But when we start the long haul, my body protests what my mind tells it and what the coach is yelling. My hamstrings stretch and pull and calves scream and then go numb. My legs, once fresh and active, have turned to mere dead weights. But this is nothing compared with my lungs, parched and gasping, contracting more when I reach up to brush trickles of sweat from my face. And I look up, at the long, green field stretching out in front of me. And I smile. I love it.

Independence

I want a little apartment. I want a little, white, cheery kitchen, with a bright window with a little sill with happy flowers. I want a cosy little hallway with a bright light at the end and a crowded, but comfy living room, with my beautiful piano somehow there as well.

I want my own little niche in the world.

racquetball

Racquetball. It's a very deceptive sport. One thinks, "oh, I think I'll go play racquetball tonight," as if it were something light and relatively painless, a mere cup of tea to drink. But once one steps inside the white walled room, with its hideous echoes and screaming ball and pounding footsteps, reality rings its ugly little bell. And somehow an hour passes, and, sweat dripping from one's nose, one steps outside to drink from the water fountain, only to find it spazmatic. And once back inside, one's body saturated in frustrated water fountain water, the groove is gone. The muscles groan in exertion and cold sweat and lungs contract to find no oxygen. And now there is only

exhaustion

In the Future Work Force . . .

I've never really known what I wanted to do with my life after college. And I've always been a very indecisive person anyway. I'm the type of person who will stand at Baskin Robin's and stare at the ice cream, as if willing one of them to call out "pick me! pick me!" so I won't have to decide.

I don't really want to live in the States. I want to go someplace different. Someplace exotic or saturated in history. Just someplace other than . . . here.

Mission work -- vocational, I think -- has been the one thing I've been fairly certain about. I played around with the idea of becoming a general physician and setting up a clinic in the steamy jungles of South America. Or maybe I could get a degree in education and set up a school in some African country starved for learning. In either scenario, I can see myself working with the church in that area, "plugging myself in," as my dad says.

But lately something different has crept into my mind: journalism. I love to scribble and I love exploring. My mind even thinks in questions. . . And I could go abroad to cover stories. I could go to foreign countries and immerse myself in the culture to write. And I would never grow bored. . .

But the only thing -- how would I integrate my Christianity into a journalism career?

Entry in my journal
February 10, 2006

I want a husband.
I want a man I can sit next to at night
And open our Bibles
And study God's Word together.
I want a man to hold my hand
And pray with me.
I want a man to sing praises to God with.
I yearn,
I ache for a good, long life with a good, Christian man
who will love me and hold me forever.
I want someone to love me
And be at home waiting
And always ready to listen
And then to tell me to just
shut up and just hold me tightly when I cry.
I want a companion,
a best friend,
a lover.
I want this.
But I can't have it yet.
Not for a long, long time.

And I'm afraid sometimes that he'll never come.
I'm fearful that my prince won't find me.
and sometimes it seems to be too hard to see
Everyone else holding hands and happy
And not having that for myself.
Sometimes it's hard, God, for me to be patient
And wait for Your plans.
My mind tells me it will be better,
But my heart is weak
And drifts often.
Forgive me and make me stronger.
Help me to the kind of woman that a good, Christian man would want.
Help me to persevere.
Help me to notice all those around me --
to brighten everyone's day in a way that I can.
Help me to be ready to listen. Give me patience, dear Lord. Give me patience to wait for you,
to wait for my man,
to wait for something purer, stronger, and sweeter
than my own petty desires.

Pensive

My pensive mood continues. I have been thinking about anything and everything over the past few days. Is that a "girl" thing? Do only girls do this/ Are we the only ones who pause and reminisce and contemplate and ponder about everything we do and what is going on around us? Surely the male species do as well. Surely they have days when all tehy do is think.

Dating. What does it mean? What does a date consist of? Is it hte proverbial "dinner-and-a-movie" or is it anything done alone with a memeber of the opposite sex? Does a date mean anything? Does it mean the guy wants to go out with the girl or does it mean that the girl wants to go out with the guy after one date? Does it mean marriage? No, I don't think so. But so many people seem to view it this way.

And like one of my good friends says, dating isn't like buying shampoo -- one is dealing with people and their precious hearts. One doesn't go through guys like the shampoos on the clearance rack and if one doesn't like a certain brand, tossing it out. Dating shouldn't be like that. But there also should not be all this pressure on dating. There shouldn't be teh pressure of pairing those two individuals together after one date and already talking about marriage. That's ridiculous.

But what about me? I think I view dating as I view driving a stick shift car. I would really love to do it. It seems a really neat, fun thing to do. But I'm so scared of putting myself at risk. I don't want to make myself vulnerable. And everytime I get up the nerve to try, I kill the engine or the opportunity.

Another friend of mine was talking to me about this. She told me that teh way I carried myself seemed to say "I'm too good foryou." Not in so many words, but that seemed to be my attitude. That I was smarter than everyone else and more talented. And she said sometimes she wondered if I would ever find anyone good enough.

And I don't want to come across like that. I'm not sure if that was just her view or everyone else's as well. And it hurt. But do I? Is that the way I am?

But I don't want to lower my standards. I don't want to accept anything. I don't want to date trash. I want a good boyfriend and a good marriage and a good life. I have seen so many people make mistakes in their marriages and come to such awful grief over it. And I don't want to end up like that. I want to be happy.

So what's the solution? What do I do? How do I banish my "smarter-and-more-talented-than-thou" aroma I give off? How can I just have fun?