In a Moment of Honesty

It's never a good idea to write blogs from that emotional place you get to when it's late at night. There's a certain sense of truth that I know comes out of me when the day is done and I start getting all introspective. My best friend Mitzi once told me that I was one of the strongest people she knows. I laughed.

I recently learned that I had a few more blog readers than I thought--meaning that my late night emo-posts are getting around to more people than is probably healthy. Hm...how to be honest and avoid the overshare...

Honestly, this post isn't strong. I'm about to admit that sometimes I don't have all my stuff together. I'm not quite as invincible as I like to portray. Yes, I'm talking again about boys, which sort of makes me want to vomit. 98% of me has a complete handle on things--boys are entertaining but not good for much else. And it absolutely KILLS me when the other 2% wins out and I start to feel all girly and daydreamy and yuck. Mitzi says I'm strong. So I should be able to hold my own. Just me and God. And I don't want or need anything else.

But Lauren introduced me to this new song tonight, and I let myself be weak and actually feel every word. Music and I have had quite the affair, and I love it when certain lines or bits of songs give a voice to that piece of yourself that you can't quite seem to express. I've felt these words long before I heard them tonight...

"Paperweight"
Joshua Radin and Shuyler Fisk

Been up all night staring at you
wondering what's on your mind
i've been this way with so many before but this feels like the first time
you want the sunrise to go back to bed
i want to make you laugh

mess up my bed with me
kick off the covers i'm waiting
every word you say i think i should write down
don't want to forget come daylight
happy to lay here
just happy to be here
i'm happy to know you

play me a song
your newest one
please leave your taste on my tongue
paperweight on my back
cover me like a blanket

mess up my bed with me
kick off the covers i'm waiting
every word you say i think i should write down
don't want to forget come daylight
and no need to worry
that's wastin time
and no need to wonder
what's been on my mind
it's you
it's you
it's you
every word you say i think i should write down
don't want to forget come daylight
and i give up
i let you win
you win cause i'm not counting
you made it back to sleep again
wonder what you're dreaming

Seriously--I hate the girly side of me that thinks I wrote every line. No more daydreaming. I'm going to bed. At least if I'm a big, sappy dork while I sleep, it's not really my fault because I have no control over what my subconscious dwells on. Tomorrow morning, the majority gets to rule again.

What About Baggage?

I almost hate to mention what spurred this post...but my desire to seem professional motivates citing this source...

I receive the eHarmony newsletter via email.

Whew...I'm glad I got that off my chest. In all honesty, I swear it's because I filled out one of those free personality profiles one night when I was bored...and now they send me stuff in my email, and I'm too lazy to ask them to stop. This particular issue caught my eye because it had several dating/relationship articles that I thought sounded interesting. Being the aspiring relationship guru that I am, I opted to peruse Dimensions (this is what they call their little bit of literary whatnot). After I finished an article titled "The Ex Files: How to Get Over Your Baggage and Get On with Your Life," I started to wonder if this "Dr. Warren" really knew what he was talking about. I'm a huge skeptic to begin with, and no amount of couples' success stories is really going to convince me that I should listen to his babbling.

Yet. This topic is very close to my heart. My dad and I have had many a discussion about "what is it about women and holding on to their baggage for dear life?" After hours of yapping, the best conclusion we've come up with is that women are spaghetti and men are waffles. This, according to my dad, is the newest catch-phrase--taking the ideas of Venus and Mars to a whole new level. I'll venture a tangent to explain: men compartmentalize. They have all these little squares of syrup and none of them have to mingle with any of the others. Women, however, are spaghetti because anything you add to the mix gets all sorts of gunked up on everything else (this explanation is especially potent with my accompanying hand motions, but you'll have to do without them for now). Anyways, point being, if a woman has hurt in her past, she can't seem to confine it to one noodle. Sauce gets all up in all the noodles. And you can't just start throwing stuff out or you'd have no noodles left, which only further encourages your anorexia, also not a good thing. Besides, this whole "packing analogy" is really difficult for me. I mean, if you've ever seen me at the airport, you know that I am anything but low maintenance. Every time I travel, I plan to downsize some, but it never seems to come to fruition. And now with all these anti-liquid regulations, transporting my lip-gloss collection is more complicated than ever. Still, I do see a glimmer of hope: my travel rule is "Never pack more than you can carry." Testing proves that there is a direct correlation (excuse the science-talk, I just finished my lab report) between my increasing buffness and the amount of baggage I can truck around with.

Alas, according to Dr. eHarms, baggage is something that can be organized, downsized, and eventually eliminated. According to my dad, you should just get over it. In other words--baggage can be sectioned off, cut neatly, and swallowed with a glass of milk. Which is all fine and dandy if you are a waffle.

On behalf of all the spaghetti in the world, I propose that we get a second opinion...from a chick. Sure, the article has some awesome ideas for learning what it means to understand your past and the effect it has on you. Yes, people should recognize the hurt for what it is, forgive, and put it behind them. But this isn't a case for getting rid of baggage altogether. In a kind of sick but also charming way, your baggage helps make you the way you are. It doesn't have to be all that bad. Here's some additional hints that I would add to Dr. Warren's five-point plan:

1. Pack efficiently: sort through all the crap you've got and figure out how to organize it just a bit. Rolling clothes instead of just folding and piling them is an army trick I got from a friend of mine. Know what kind of crap you have and see if you can arrange it in a way to make it make a bit more sense.
2. Downsize what you can: a little of me dies inside when I say this, but three different kinds of lip gloss will be plenty for the road ahead. And toss the hair appliances--go for the wet-hair look. It's hot right now.
3. Hit the gym: if you've got a lot of crap to haul, better buff up those arms and shoulders. Go with what you got--God hasn't given us more than we can handle, right?

Now this all brings me to a final ThoughtRantTangent (check that--combining three words instead of just two): I may actually be entering the life-stage where I don't hate on hook-up websites. Last weekend, while watching 10 Things I Hate About You on TV (where they bleep out words...which I always find slightly distracting and rather amusing) with my friend Katie and two of my roommates, a commercial for eHarmony came on the television. Alli spoke up: "You guys--we are the demographic they are catering to...the pathetic, single women watching movies on TV on a Friday night." According to the other commercials, we are also single mothers (kids' toys ad) and fat (Weight Watchers). Kind of depressing, really. But I don't think that you have to be ridiculously loserish to glean from the dating advice and methods of others. Last summer I read a book called How to Get a Date Worth Keeping, which I pre-judged as the most un-Christian dating book ever. My post-judgment came out opposite. The book has a lot of good ideas about viewing dating as a normal part of making friendly connections with people--instead of as the scary monster we've turned it into. I think eHarmony and it's competitors are on to something similar: it's O K to meet new people and get to know them. In today's world, courtship can't work like it used to because your parents (or you) can't do the intensive background check that was once possible. You, likely, didn't grow up around these people. Dating or the websites that promote it are a form of "background check" in a social situation. Not to take away all the romance of relationships, but doing a bit of research on the subject before your let your emotions get carried away is a pretty good preventative strategy for keeping the baggage count low.

My last thoughts: love God and keep traveling. Happy trails!

SexyBack and 1984

Raise your hand if you read George Orwell's 1984.

If your hands are still firmly set on your computer mouse and keyboard, the education system of America has completely failed you and you need to write to your congressman about this "No Child Left Behind" idea.

For the rest of yall, remember Big Brother and all the creepy methods the government in the novel used to control its citizens? Yeah...I'm not so much talking about that.

Let's switch gears for a second to our good ol' friend Justin Timberlake. Those of you who visit my myspace have heard his single, "SexyBack," while perusing my wall posts. It is my new anthem. (If you're questioning my integrity, perhaps I shall soon revisit a post from my archives about why Christian women need to be sexy)

Now here is the cool part where I tie the two together: Think Big Bro's "doublethink." Think "FurtureSex" and "LoveSounds." If George and Justin can invent combo-words, then I believe that I have every RightResponsibility to do so as well. I'll just add them to my spell-check dictionary to make them legit.

Doublethink that.

New Fun on the Horizon

Whew!! Man, has it been an intensive month or so! Apologies for my lack of posting, but life just got super-crazy, and I suppose I'm still settling in. I'm in the middle of my fourth week of school, and definately loving my classes. Here are some highlights of my life right now...

* School is amazing, but I'm ready to be out. I've officially decided to finish a year early, so after two summer school classes, I will be done with college. No, I don't have any clue what I'm going to do when I'm finished. I'll let everyone know as soon as I figure it out. I promise. For this semester, I am learning all sorts of fun things about exercise and health in my kinesiology class, acting Shakespeare, how to draft (draw/make) patterns for costumes, playwriting, round three of German, and how to better control my voice in performance.

* Church is even more amazing--we will be moving next week to our new location at La Trova House on Stoner Ave. Check the Shoreline website for details. Also, I will be helping to organize the children's' ministry which is quite possibly the most frightening thing in the world, but ridiculously exciting at the same time. I am so amazed by how many cool opportunities God has given me at Shoreline. I absolutely adore my friends there and am stoked about what He has in store.

* As for my "free time," I'm still working at Prep Center, where I tutor math and English to highschool (and those smart middle school) students. Also, I'll try to be as consistent as possible in my small group here at SC, where we will be going through Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge, as well as Quest on Wednesdays, my Shoreline ladies on Mondays, and prayer meetings on Thursdays.

So...we might ask ourselves...has Meredith lost her mind?? Maybe. Right now, things seem to be going along well, which brings me to a slight tangent (but an actual topic of discussion) for today's' post. Chrissie Wanke started a blog for the women of Shoreline, where I will hopefully begin contributing some. (PS--check out the post from Sept 6...I'd love to hear more thoughts on that topic!!) In our women's Bible study we are going to spend the year talking through the sermons each week. This way, we are able to really dig deeper into what Brian or Scott have to share with us on Sundays and discuss how to apply it to our lives during the rest of the week, instead of letting the message seep out as we head to lunch. Anyways...point I'm trying to make--Chrissie's latest post is about our discussion last night of what it means to live a truly full life. On the topic of busyness (remember, before Meredith began her awkward tangent, she was discussing all of her after-school activities, suggesting a potential burn-out on the horizon), looking at my schedule makes me wonder if I'm not over-doing things just a tad. And to think, after the sermon on Sunday, I was asking myself about how I could put more of my idle time to use for Christ. Am I too busy or too idle? Honestly, who knows? I sometimes wonder if I do a little too much contemplating for my own good. Here's how I really hash it out: granted, I attend formal church activities on Sun, Mon, Tues, Wed, and Thurs, along with my school and work commitments. Now before you start thinking I'm holy and fabulous or something, I should explain. In the wise words of my friend Will Neuman, "You go to church for the same reason I go to bars." As one who is revolted by the idea of going to church to pick up women (ok...or men), this statement should set me off. However, it was a comment following my explanation that many of my church activities were very socially geared. Yes, I go to church to hear God's word and learn more about Him, but there is a significant and important purpose to the communal aspect of church. These activities are more than just time fillers, but a place for me to relax and enjoy the company of women and men whom I love dearly. And what better topic to discuss than the amazing God we all serve? Conclusion: my crazy schedule should not induce hysteria, panic, or any otherwise upsetting physical reactions.

To wrap myself up...because I have a Bible study to attend...this year's blog posting will hopefully be frequent enough to allow everyone to see the craziness inside my head, ie: such mumbo-jumbo as that in the preceding paragraph. As I learn about how to teach children (young and old) and get taught all sorts of things myself, I hope to share my thoughts here about the kinds of stuff that bounces around in my brain. Please share your thoughts on my weirdo theories! I post stuff because I'm usually crazy and it's good to have someone put me in my place when I start to ramble (because my idea of editing is running spell-check). Get excited for all sorts of forum topics from ministry to theatre, children and women, and of course the ever popular topic...boys.

I Hate Age

Forgive the rant...but I seriously hate my age.

And no, it's not about being just over 5 months away from 21, wanting to go to clubs and drink and such (although I must say...all those cutesy fruity drinks just look so fabulous)..

I hate age because I feel like it's limiting. In the Bible, Paul tells Timothy, "Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young.." So when it comes to church-related things, I try to keep in mind that God is the one doing all the working anyways, and He can use young or old to do what He wants. For instance, I led a crew to Germany that was 75% older than me. Perhaps things might have run smoother with a more experienced sage at the wheel, but for whatever reason, God let me do it. This is fabulous. Spiritually, I feel really free of numbers, knowing that God uses the weak (which can often be the young) to show off His strength. I've got this crazy idea that I can change the world, and I don't want to wait around until I'm no longer afraid of being carded.

Unfortunately, outside of the Bible, I don't have many people on my side. In the real world, the numbers matter. I can't date anyone much older than me because it looks shady for them to be with someone "under age." In the business side of things, I think they aren't allowed to discriminate based on age, so at least I've got the government working for me on that one. Because they won't be able to infer my age when I interview...or when they read on my resume that I've only been in college for two years now. I think the worst, though, is when I get the look. You know...I make some comment about feeling old...perhaps it's a joke about hitting menopause because I suddenly feel a wave of heat and think I'm starting to get hot flashes, then someone else in the room, who may, for all practical purposes, be merely 3 or 4 years older than me, rolls her eyes and says, "yeah, talk to me when you're (fill in the blank) years old..." In fact...I'm pretty sure I heard this when I was a teenager from girls who filled in the blank with 20. Perhaps I should look them up to talk now that I'm 20 and still feel the same about this number, formerly known as age, as I did back then.

Truth is, a lot of times, I feel old. I'm 20, but I seriously feel like I've lived, like...30 years worth of life. (some of you are giving the look right now..) Experientially, I think I'm older. It probably has something to do with my upbringing and just the weird way my crazy little mind works. But life happens, and there's a lot of crappy stuff, and (praise the Lord) a lot of really good stuff too. And when I look around at other people my age, I sometimes wonder if I'm from some other planet because they just don't seem to look at the world the way I do. I feel ancient.

Then there's other times that I feel really young. All that crappy stuff in life reminds me of how fragile and weak I am. Pondering how big God is reminds me about how small I am. Seeing the wisdom of others makes me feel small too; their maturity reminds me that I have so much further to go.

So if I can't seem to figure out whether I am old or young for my age, maybe we need some other way of counting. Like...I've experienced 32 years of boy drama, 24 years of the American
educational system, 18 years of cool God moments, 0 years of personal computer maintenance, and so on. I'll get some math people to work on some sort of equation for this because something is seriously wrong with this whole number system. Why is it that on some arbitrary day, you become one year older and all of a sudden one whole number bigger. No one ever feels any different during the change from 7 to 8, despite the inherent excitement of knowing that you get presents on this day, even though you didn't anything that fabulous except breathe in and out a few more times. So why a difference between 20 and 21? Will I really feel any smarter, wiser, or cooler next February? Granted, according to popular culture, I will look cooler with some sort of alcoholic beverage in my hand, but this aside, I doubt much will change.

Anyways, time is money, and I'm pretty sure I've taken away a good chunk of yours. I don't really know where I'm going with all this, except to pout like a 2-year-old (note: tell the math kid to add this number to the equation). Maybe I can just lie. Or...if I count from conception, then technically I'm already 21. So there.

Yeah...I'm done...