Funny, a black pit of death

Okay, things are not really that bad. That's just sort of how my prof Dr. Dillner described graduating from Bethel. She'd just broken up with a boyfriend of 4 years, and she had no idea what she really wanted to do with her life. She said it was like staring into a pit.

I will not face graduation like that, however. I refuse to. I am excited. I look forward to not having constant homework hanging over my head like an academic sword of Damocles. I can't wait to play summer softball and join a broomball league in the winter! I want to start writing regularly, maybe for a magazine, and start playing the guitar again. I would like to buy a dog, but that's probably not feasible right now. The point is, I refuse to be terrified. Okay, maybe I'm just a little terrified.

Perhaps that's why I'm sticking around here a year longer before PA school. I don't want to lose these peope so quickly, even though most of my top friends are leaving the Cities.... Jamie, Elizabeth, Billy, Celeste. I feel like they're dying.

Does anyone else find this entire situation fundamentally disturbing? I think that this system is ridiculous! We, Young People, are thrown headfirst into a social-LSD-trip-cum-intellectual-pressure cooker, stimulated to grown and change in ways we'd never imagined possible, encouraged to build thrilling friendships and relationships with people we come to adore, and then BAM. You're out on your proverbial ass, and welcome to the real world. Your happy little group of friends traveling down this highway of life gets roadside-mined. Everyone gets married and goes to the same therapist for their depression issues stemming from extreme separation from their social network (this I heard from several of my friends) or moves to another country or goes on to med or grad school and begins the entire process all over again, and does anyone stop to think, wait, this isn't right???

I don't want my friends to leave! I have never had friends like these before! Never! I understand that many many people do it, but I don't have to be happy about it. I am going to miss these people very, very much. A very unique part of my life is actually ending, and there's real justification for sadness. But I can still look forward to the future, so I intend to meet May 25th with head held high and a big stupid grin on my college-grad face.

Ah, but will I have a job? Hmmmmm.

-Cara

Application: DENIED!

"We might fall, we might fall, we might fall. Now that we are older, I remember you, now that we are close to death, close to finding truth." Ryan Star

I think I grew up a little bit, almost without noticing. But how could I expect to do so much praying without any returns?

You see, I've been recently rejected hardcore by a very wonderful man. And do you know what? I am competely fine. I believe I actually prayed enough about this, and chose my steps so carefully according to what I truly believed was God's will, that I've ended up quite happy even though he said "no thanks." So praise the Lord for that--a year ago, or even six months ago, I would have been crushed in a very dramatic manner. I would have pouted and cried and lost much sleep and in general been a disastrous mess. But I'm actually happy! I waited so long for his answer (an absurd six weeks and 2 days), praying madly and reading a lot more scripture than usual, and thinking of almost nothing else, and now I feel a fantastic release! Ha, I actually don't have to worry about this anymore! I'm FREE!!!

Wow, what a feeling. I don't have to plan my life around a relationship! I don't have to think, okay, where is he going to go to med school, is there a good grad school for me in the area, blah blah blah. I don't have to WAIT anymore! I'm FREE! And I'm not even too worried that this is an indication that no man will ever be interested in me, which would have been my sustained reaction normally (there was a brief moment... but it passed, hallelujah). Good heavens, have I actually grown from this experience?!?! I'm actually not worried about finding the man I'm going to marry! I finally feel like I'm doing my part--praying, chasing God, loving my family and friends, and God can do whatever the heck he wants with romance in my life. Sure, if He asked for my opinion I'd say throw a guy my way this instant, but what do I know? I clearly was wrong about Awesome Guy, so perhaps it's not my job to decide when I'm ready. I think I'm more ready now than I ever was before, but who knows? Not me!

And in the meantime, I'm looking for a job and trying to figure out how I can rent motorcycles to travel through Baja Mexico, roadtrip through Canada to Alaska, work in a Guatemalan medical clinic, visit my aunt and uncle in California, have nasal surgery, and still pay off my loans. Oh, and biking in Utah.

I wish I only felt the urge to write when something really profound and theologically/philosophically/psychologically pressing entered my consciousness. Unfortunately, I don't usually have a computer nearby when those things happen. And I like writing idle thoughts. So.

When I develop that idea about holistic ministry that came to me in church last week, I'll write it here, okay?

Cara

29 Days

Is that too long? What's the definition of too long?

If someone told you they were madly in love with every fiber of your being, and then asked you to think about it and get back to them with whether you're interested or not, and they told you to take as much time as you needed, how long would you think and pray about it? What if you're a really slow decision-maker and you are really intentional about seriously considering every last detail? What about 29 days? Do you think that would make the person love you even more for your deliberate guarding of both of your hearts, or would you just drive them crazy?

Both. BOTH.

A slice of life

I am about to graduate. Cue the dramatic music.

No, I didn't apply to graduate school for next year. I am taking a year off and then I'm applying. I'm okay with this, because I didn't really know what program to apply for because there are too many things I'm interested in. I was looking at biology, epidemiology, global public health, medical anthropology, physician's assistant, and human rights programs. That's too many. I need to narrow it down a little.

In the meantime, I am trying to finish an H-tag, my senior honors project, my senior bio research and presentation, and find a job. Right. Deep breath, kiddo.

Everything will get done, and I'm not too worried. I was before, but right now I have a peace about everything which I am very thanksful for--praise the Lord.

I'd like to play some laser tag. Hmmm.

I'm also thinking about attempting to write for a newspaper or magazine after I graduate. I would have more spare time, right? If I don't get a job which requires 70-80 hours a week. I'd like to train to be an EMT, because that would be wicked sweet. Health care experience, plus working in challenging situations and helping people? Cool. Except I might kill someone...

Or maybe I'll get one of those internships I've applied to for the Red Cross! One was in Washington DC, the other in Virginia (I don't want to go to Virginia, but hey, I'll take what I can get). DC would be cool. And then maybe they would offer me a full-time job and I'd be set for the next year! I don't want to do paperwork, either, though... I know I'd rather be outside doing trail guide work in Colorado (or being a cave guide, which I almost was two years ago, so cool) or even working at Caribou rather than doing paperwork. But I also want hands-on health care experience, so EMT work would be perfect.

A bit of this depends on whether a certain guy decides he's in love with me or not. We'll see. :)

I'm in the middle of Animal Behavior lab right now, ha ha. We watch videos every week. This is ridiculous.

I scored three goals in a broomball game last Saturday! I've only scored one other goal in my whole life! Why is it that broomball is the only sport I absolutely adore? I would play at a moment's notice, anytime. I usually dislike organized sports... I think it's the fact that a lot of people can't run on ice, so the playing field is leveled and I don't feel as stupid and unskilled.

Okay, lab is almost over... gotta go. Happy, Justin? Now it's your turn, friend.

Cara

Cheesy? You decide...

It has come upon me that I don't seem like a very happy person.
This comes from several sources: Mom, ever-vigilant to notice anything that might repel "the boys;" my last blog entry, which contained much less happiness than should have been reflected; Brett Einerson's accusation that I am a man-basher; Adam Gilberston's insistence that I am a cynic; and self-analysis.
And then I watched the movie "Harvey" tonight. It stars a charming-beyond-reason Jimmy Stewart, whom I want to marry (sadly, he's already dead), and is a delightful film. Stewart's character, Elwood P. Dowd, states, "I've learned that in life you can either be very smart, or every pleasant, and, well, I recommend pleasant," or something like that. Smart or pleasant. It's true that you can be both smart and pleasant at the same time, but probably not as easily as I thought.
Everyone loves Elwood. I love Elwood, and if you knew him, you'd love him too. He's so happy and calm, even when people are being really mean to him. He never holds anything against anyone. I guess I need concrete examples sometimes, to realize what I want to be. Obviously I want to be like Christ, but it's easy to forget that the second someone insults or ignores me. I'm a very visual person, and to observe someone acting with utter kindness and sincerity really inspires me...
So, I'm resolving to be more like Elwood. I don't want to be offended so easily. I don't want to come off as a man-hating cynic (eeeew, I am just completely horrified that people see me that way). I thought I'd been doing a pretty good job, with expected failings along the way, but I must be deluding myself.

If becoming a nicer, more pleasant person is cheesy, well, bring on the cheese. I'd rather be thought of as pleasant than smart, if I have to pick. Hopefully I can be both. I don't want to be insincere, which is always a risk. That's one reason I find it hard to say straight out how I feel about people--I feel so darn cheesy and redundant. Also my words might be taken the wrong way. I'm just not good with words. I want to spout Shakespeare at a moment's notice, but I can barely come up with Shel Silverstein.

And writing is the place where I pour out my fast and deep emotions, so sometimes I probably seem more angry or hurt or hateful in my writing that I want to convey. Aw, rats. everything is so kittywompus (hahaha, told Angie I'd use that word in a sentence today... she is so cute when she says it I can't even stand it).

So, flowers, then. I'll try to talk about more flowers, to put some more beauty into this world, like Offred. If anyone knows what I'm talking about, let me know and I'll be thrilled.

Gonna go pray now. Need more prayer in my life. Just finished Till We Have Faces--marvelous. God loves me, even though I've screwed up so much. It's just wonderful, isn't it?

Day in the Life

For my j-term course, one of the assignments was to write a diary of a day in our lives. The assignment was already due, but I did a crappy job and am interested in doing it justice. So here it goes...

Today, January 7, 2007

1:15 am
Just got home from the Artist's Quarter, saw Debbie Duncan sing. Went with Wes, Eve, etc. and it was very fun. Wore ridiculously tall black stiletto books, got heckled by four men on the street. Why do women do this to themselves? It't not as though I would actually respond to any advances by any of these men, and I'm not interested in casual sex. If I had my way I might go about my business every day with horrible tangled hair, greasy pale face, frumpy pajamas and terrible body odor with rats trailing behind and dirt underneath my nails... think of that. Ah. So that's why women dress up? They're repulsive if they don't? There must be a middle ground. Called "jeans and a t-shirt."

2:30 am
Why can't I sleep? Feel restless. Roommate Tricia was asleep before I get home, and I haven't talked to her in at least three days, and roommate Elizabeth is in Uganda for January. Despite the jazz club experience, I feel alone. Wish I had someone to say goodnight to.

8:30 am
Alarm goes off. Some annoying song, hit the snooze. I place my radio at the foot of my bed so I have to actually move in order to turn it off. I fool myself into thinking this will help me wake up... it does not.

10:45 am
DARN IT. Will never make it to church. Was I supposed to help out with the kids this morning? I sure hope not. Probably not. Maybe. I don't know. Too late now.

10:55 am
I refuse to shower because I did last night and hair still seems straight from wrestling match with straightener. I need to get up, get to Barnes and Noble as fast as possible. Get out of bed! My sinuses hurt really bad. This is an everyday thing; mom wants me to get surgery like her friend Jan. "It changed her life! No more pain!" I secretly think being in pain every day is good for me. Raises my tolerance level, does it not? Kind of like multitasking: learn to tune out the things you don't like but can't change. Except surgery might help... will think about this later.

11:02 am
Weigh self, confirm yesterday's french fry fiasco. Oh well. Regardless of weight no one seems to be interested in me, anyway, and friends like me the way I am. Will only eat pure fruits and vegetables today, yeah right. Wash dishes while cooking curried vegetables and making coffee. Try to decipher bill information on whiteboard, left by Elizabeth before her departure. What? When are these due? Erm, will let Tricia deal with money. I am money dispenser, nothing more.

11:25 am
Cannot wear anything fun today because am going to work later. I'm a manager at the university's dining center, and I feel a responsibility to be there whenver there's a problem. Today's dinner shift is 2 people short, so I'm going to show up, like I usually do. Fun earrings are my rebellion. As if having a nosering isn't rebellion enough... everyone calls it "cute," even my ultraconservative mother. She doesn't give the same leeway to my little sister, although frankly I've earned it and she hasn't.
Read my Bible, first four chapters of Hebrews, while I eat. Good stuff. I think about rest and knowing scripture so I can know God better and figure out what He wants for my life. Hmmm. Pray for: Mom and her overtime-forcing job, Katie and Galen, Christine, Elizabeth and all the nursing students in Uganda, Jamie in Amsterdam, and the two guys on my mind.

11:45 am
Song by Paolo Nutini on radio, "New Shoes." He's 19 years old and Scottish. Hmm. Will Google him later. Decide to wear my new shoes in hopes that optimism of song will rub off on me.
Spend too much time wandering around my apartment, trying to find random things I need like my driver's license (expired, has a hole punched in it. I'm waiting for the new one to come in the mail), timecard, and check card. Where are my car keys?

12:00 pm
Walk out the door--SNOW! I call my mom immediately; she's at lunch with friends. I inform her of the weather and say goodbye.

12:15 pm
B&N, my second home. I wonder if Lisa is working right now. She's going on dates with Alan now, the guy who I went out with a few times the summer before last. He's nice and everything, but not my type. I think they'd be cute together, though. He's a lot better than the first guy I went out with from B&N, who cried on our first and only date. I think I attract only weirdos. Ah, the guy at the info desk is cute. "Nick," declares his nametag. But Alan always wears "Eugene," so I don't trust this. "Nick" leads me to the book I need to read for class. Thanks, "Nick."

12:20 pm
Two shots of espresso, please. Thanks.

2:45 pm
Hunger tears me from my reading stupor. Ultimate Chocolate Fudge Brownie saves me... So much for the diet. Back to reading. I have to read this entire book because the class watched the movie on Friday, and we had the option of skipping class and watching the movie some other time, or reading the book. I'm a reader, so I skipped.

3:30 pm
Still reading, but I'm distracted by a baby stumbling by, coaxed through a wobbly walk by a cutesy voice and the hands of a daddy. How cute... I can't wait to have children. Hope I don't die alone, eaten by my many dogs. Also am distracted by two elderly couples at the next table. They seem to be having the time of their lives. I hope I'm that fun when I'm old. I could people-watch here all day, and have on many occasions. Can I just live in the world of books, please? Then I won't have to figure out how to relate to real people. Ah, but I am nagged into society by some scripture-based community fellowship rationale which makes friendships and love imperatives. But trust is such a hard thing... people tend to let you down. Maybe this should be like my sinus pain: live with constant rejection, betrayal, and disappointment, and eventually you'll just start to ignore it! Man, I'm depressing. I need more Brent Bauman in my life (he's the ultimate agent of anti-cynicism and a fantastic friend).

4:23 pm
Better get to work. I don't even know what they'll have me do. I hope not the dishroom. I buy the book because I'm 2/3 of the way done, and I can always return it. I know, I know, B&N is not a library. But there a warehouse bookstore and they don't care about individual book sales. I'm a frickin' member, anyway, so they know they're bleeding money from my soul regardless. My mind is stilll in the world of the book, so I'm walking like a zombie; the only words I've said today (besides about 10 to my mom) are "Two shots of espresso, please," "A chocolate brownie, please," (which I had to repeat because I was speaking so softly--side effect of being in a book world, and "Thanks, have a good day," to the cashier. This is a lot more characteristic of me than my peppy school-self. What can I say? I'm an introvert.


4:40 pm
Walk into work. Amanda: "What are you doing here?"
Me: "Well, are there open spots or what?"
Amanda: "Yeah, in the dishroom."
Me: "Aw, crap."
I hate the dishroom. I have never signed up for a shift there in my life. It feels so chaotic, like everything is on the edge of being out of control. And two open spots... that means even with me, we're one person down. Am I supposed to keep everything under control? Crap. I automatically think, I wish Grant were here. Grant can handle anything. He's like a younger version of our boss, Dave, who can also handle everything. Dave is my friend, at-work pastor, father-figure, financial advisor, and life coach. I love to babysit his three kids--it almost makes me feel like part of his family. He's the best boss ever.

4:50 pm
I have to be in the dishroom in 25 minutes, and I don't eat because I'm not hungry. I'm still a zombie in book-world, so I go read. I want to finish the book before I work so I can do the analysis homework afterward.

5:16 pm
Almost done. I'm ALMOST DONE. Amanda gives me grace, lets me finish.

5:27 pm
Into the dishroom. And who is there taking care of the dishes I should have been washing? Grant! This is very funny to me. Every time I think to myself, I wish Grant were here, he shows up. Like when the dish machine broke a few months ago, and he wasn't even working, he came in and tried to fix it. And even when maintenance came, he didn't leave until he was sure we had the situation under control. And before that, on a Saturday night when we were shortstaffed. It seems that all I have to do is think, I wish Grant were here, and BAM! There he is. Of course, this is not a magic formula and never works when I try it purposefully.

5:45 pm
Feel horrible for having such a bad attitude. This really isn't hard work at all. I need to get over myself. Singing helps a lot, and it's so loud that no one can hear me so I'm not bothering anyone. I like Frank Sinatra classics, and the occasional Broadway ballad. "The best is yet to come..."I love singing. Every day should have singing, every hour. My mom wakes me up with singing when I'm at home, and all of her messages on my cell phone are songs. I love it.

6:20 pm
So we're not short workers anymore. Then Korah shows up, and Diana, and Josh. We have too many people in the dishroom! Hallelujah, I get to leave!

6:30 pm
I am still not hungry, but if I don't eat I'll gorge on chocolate later, so I eat carrots and red pepper hummus (a favorite) and macaroni salad. Dinner of champions. I eat in Dave's office so no one bothers me; I don't want to go home. No one will be there because Tricia's working, and besides, I feel like Dave's office is a second home to me. I wish I didn't feel like a total idiot for wanting to stay there--who hangs around the place they work when they're not working? Dork.

7:00 pm
Wander out of the dining center, asking people to work for me tomorrow night so I can go to Bible study. No. No. No. Darn it. I really want to go. While in market I get yelled at 3 separate times for forgetting to take out the recycling at the end of the night last night. Recycling is not something market square does, and it is only at the initiative of the person managing that it is done. I feel a vibe of vindicated humbling aimed at me, as though by trying to recycle I were subtly accusing all others of not being as good a person as me, and now I was put in my place by inconsiderately forcing others to take it out for me which I shouldn't do. Grrrr. I do not mean to seem self-righteous, people! I'm sorry! I was just tired last night and I forgot! Alecia makes me feel better by chatting with me about how we could solve this "market doesn't recycle" problem. Two smaller trashcans, one for recycling and one for trash, in the place of our big trashcan? Sounds good to me! I drink two shots of espresso (this makes it 4 shots and 1 cup of coffee for the day; I'm trying to cut back from 5 shots and 2 cups, so this is good) and head to the library.

7:15 pm
Checkin' the e-mail. Two from Jamie in Amsterdam. She misses me and all of us, and I miss her too. She returns on Wednesday, yay! I relate stories of everyday life and assure her that I love her and can't wait for her to come back. Must also write to Billy, who wrote to me over Christmas break and I never checked my e-mail so I owe him. Also will write on my blog (doing this right now.). When will I do that homework? At least I finished that book.

10 pm
Go to vespers. Very good, nice to use my voice to praise God. Next to the door, so people entering and leaving are very distracting. I consider this a challenge to be conquered.

11:05 pm
Vespers just got out, and who walks up to me but Kelly Anderson?!?! She's so awesome. I love that gal. We chat about life, find out we're both applying to DU's Int'l Human Rights grad program. Yeah, if I ever get my applications done! I need to do those NOW. Or later. Right. Anyway, I tell her about the ob-gyn clinic a friend of mine from church is involved with in Africa and how I might go volunteer there. She is ecstatic, asking if she could come, too. Of course you can come! It would be all volunteer, though, so obviously I would be screwing myself over on loans, but hey, I'll just do whatever God wants me to do. If He wants me in Africa, I'm going to Africa! And maybe Kelly will come too, fun!

11:38 pm
Decide I need to do my laundry, don't want to sleep in an empty home again. I call Sarah, ask for a bed on campus for the night. She nicely says yes.

12:15 am
Get to Sarah's, too tired to do laundry. Was I kidding myself? I read some of John Eldredge's Wild at Heart so I can be prepared to talk about it in class tomorrow. This is very frustrating. All of these stupid generalizations seems so, so wrong. "Little boys do this, little girls never do that." Um, okay, I must have the soul of a boy, then, John, because I don't fit any of your nice little Americanized socialized stereotypes for what you think the soul of a gender was created to be. Heck, even if God created male and female souls to be specific genders (which I cannot rule out yet, not enough investigation and too much evidence for both sides), then John Eldredge must be missing the mark somewhere. Either that or I'm screwed up to the core of my soul, and that's just not an option I'd like to consider yet. Obviously it's what I'm afraid of, but since Eldredge backs his comments up with contemporary MOVIES more that SCRIPTURE I don't feel that threatened.

1:00 am
Go to sleep. Goodnight, Sarah (hooray, someone to say goodnight to!)!

Conversation

(discussing her friend in South Africa, she says...)
"...he probably got eaten by a shark. How would I know?"

"You wouldn't."

"That's a sad thing. I wonder how many people I've known growing up have been eaten by a shark and I haven't even known." (pause) "I also think, what if something happened to me? Who would tell all the people who need to know? My parents wouldn't. What about my friends from high school?"

"Your friends?"

"They wouldn't know everyone. Say, like, say I got eaten by a shark over Christmas vacation. My parents don't know who I'm friends with."

"Only one person would need to find out, and then they'd tell everyone else."

"At least they'd tell Bethel. Hopefully I won't get eaten."

"Hopefully. Yes."

(long pause, discussion on death and pregnancy)

"Have you ever been pregnant."

"Heh, no." (weird look) "Have you?"

"No."

"Well, it happens."

"Not to us."

(more talk on friends and pregnancy)

"Do you think you'll ever get married?"

"I don't know. I don't really plan for these things. I don't really plan to, but if it happens, it happens. I think I'm just going to keep going till I can't... I'm going to try to keep being single. For the next ten years, I hope."

"That's a long time not to have sex."

"Yeah, but I've already waited a long time, so..."

"Yeah, like twenty-one years. I don't think we're missing anything yet. I do miss making out, though. Just not with the guy I used to make out with."

"It would be very nice to have a casual making-out relationship. None of this emotional investment crap."

"Yep. That sure would be easy."

"Well, emotionally invested would be okay, just not long-term. Like, not getting married. Just, like, I like you, you like me, we like hanging out together."

"Isn't that what friendship is already?"

"No, I don't make out with my friends."

"Oh, I missed the making out part." (pause) "I would love a guy just to snuggle with. You know, like, sit and watch movies or talk and just snuggle and feel all comfortable and just rest my head in the crook of his arm. I love guy's chests. And their arms. And their hands." (pause) "I like boys in general."

"Is that what you're writing on?"

"Yep. Boys/this conversation in exact detail."

"Heh."

"K, say something else."

"Mmmmm. Mmmm."

"Do you want to go to bed?"

"I'm pretty tired. I can't think of anything else to say about boys."

"That's okay, it doesn't have to be about boys. You can say anything you want."

"Mmmmm. I don't know what I want to say."

"What would you say to Desmond Tutu right now, if you could say anything..."

"I wouldn't say anything. I would be too in awe of him. I'd ask him if he would adopt me as his daughter and mentor me and let me borrow his little hat."

"Hee hee hee."

"For special occasions."

"Like a ball."

"And introduce me to Nelson Mandela."

"Does Nelson have a cool hat?"

"No, but he wears cool shirts."

"That's almost as cool."

"You only need one cool hat to make it in this world. Mel has mine."

"That WAS a cool hat. Seriously you should get that thing back. It's like money. The money hat."

"Mmm-hmmm."

"It's not that I don't want to share with her, it's just that I've been wearing the same rotation of clothing for the past seven months. It's nice to switch it up."

"You wore the same clothes all summer, too?"

"Yep. I've lived out of a suitcase since last January."

"That's really impressive."

"Eh, it was okay."

"I wish I could do that."

"You probably could."

"I probably should."

"I would love to own less than I do."

"Me too."

"I'll just have to start giving it away."

(long, long pause...)

"Okay, goodnight."

"Night-night."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."