Is it Possible That I Have Life All Figured Out...Or Has Optimism Devoured a Chunk of my Brain?

This is it. I think I finally hit on something here. I mean, I might be able to retire from the blogosphere due to the brilliance of what I am about to tell you.

Ok maybe not...but I did have another one of my episodes--an "epiphany" of sorts, which I put in quotes because these theories, thoughts, or whatever you want to call them strike me with momentary brilliance like some sort of epileptic seizure. (I'm pretty sure the scientific inaccuracy of that analogy completely disqualifies me from any claim to being politically correct; thus, I beg your forgiveness.)

So let's get to the root of all of this: I'm going to blameshift a bit via citing the sources that motivated my recent ponderings. First is Brian Colmery, 1/2 of the Shoreline Pastor Team and recently discovered master of the balance beam. In yesterday's sermon, the point he made that struck the deepest in me was the idea (which if you listen to his articulation of this concept will make much more sense) that we, humans, prefer to control our own lives as much as possible. Now if you really think about this, it's kind of a dumb idea because we aren't so much in charge of the universe, but we still try to direct our own story as much as possible. Hold this thought as we move to culprit number two: Chrissie Wanke. I call her into question since she heads up our Monday night Bible study. Really, the entire group might be to blame, but it was Chrissie that posed again to us the question Colmery asked from atop a makeshift gymnastics beam: what is it you worry about? What are you trying to control? Where aside from God do you seek security?

Huh...well my mind immediately goes to the two big daddy's: money and men (this really ought to read money and boys, but I felt like working the two M's bit, at the cost of suggesting actual maturity in the males I deal with) I listened to the sermon again this morning in order to prepare for what we might discuss tonight, and I really tried to think about where I seek security. I came to a roadblock. Money? Well...I seemed ok with everything this summer, even though things were a bit tight. But now that I'm a little more financially comfortable, I wonder if I seek security in this. Granted, this is coming from the girl who thinks it would be fun to pack my stuff in a storage unit come my August graduation and just be homeless for a little while because it would be cool to see God really give me this day my daily bread. Contemplating the irresponsibility involved and the fact that this might be testing God in the same way that Satan asks Jesus to jump off a building so the angels can catch him, I probably will not follow through. But I digress...money doesn't seem like a big deal to me because I know that I'll be able to figure things out if push comes to shove (and by "I" what I really mean is God working in me). If money runs out, I'll get a job. If I can't make rent, I'll live in a crappier apartment. This seems so simple to me because I know that if things start to get hard, God will either pull me through or teach me to readjust my means. Non-issue.

I explained this tonight to the girls. Then in classic Meredith fashion, I plowed into my next topic without filtering it through any sort of thought process. What came into my head then directly out of my mouth was this: I don't really think I struggle with trying to control the guy thing. And I don't know if that's because I've somewhere along the line genuinely learned to trust God for that or if I just finally realized that I never had control to begin with (girl's don't pursue, right?) so it was less about "giving it to God" and more about facing the facts. And is thinking about boys all the time the same thing as trying to control that area of my life?

The conversation moved on, but my mind kept working these things out. What do I really seek to control? Where do I find security? Earlier today at work I was teaching my students how to solve basic algebraic equations. I tried to explain that the concept itself was simple. Yes, they will eventually get to much more complicated problems that look harder and take more time, but the basic idea of solving for "x" will be the same every time. Remembering this after Bible study, I felt like I had stumbled upon the secret of life. What if all of this really is that simple. x + 4 = 7, therefore x = 3. I never have to stress because God has it figured out. I mean, isn't this really what Paul means when he says in Philippians not to be anxious about anything? In a way, life really is that simple. Even though it's not. A blanket statement like that obviously begs all sorts of questions: what is the difference between being anxious, cautious, apathetic, or hard working? How do you know where God is leading you in life? Can you trust emotions? And so on and so on.

So I started to break things down: first with money. God's provided in the past. I have never starved. I fully trust that some sort of paycheck or kind gift will get me through if I find myself in a bind. This one may actually be the easiest to dismiss.

Second, what do I want to be when I grow up? Apparently I'm supposed to grow up next August when I graduate from SC. However, what I've come to realize, which is now the "it" idea moving through campuses nationwide, is that it's ok not to have life figured out when you graduate. I can pick different types of careers and jobs--do one thing for a while and switch around as I feel God leading. Granted, I'll have bills to pay, but this goes back to point number one.

Now there's only one big issue that could trump all of these: boys. Anyone who's read five lines of anything I've written can tell that this may very well be the most vulnerable area of my life, and Satan's sweet spot when he wants to take me out of the game. I willingly admit, if I've got control issues, or any other issues for that matter, they probably factor in somehow to the way I view men. But even here, things seem kind of simple. Actually, I recently started a draft of a post that I had titled "Am I Really Still Looking?" where I discuss the simplicity of finding a husband. Literally. I'm working through the idea that I may have dating down to an art. There is a short list of men that I could name right now that I would marry on the spot if they asked me to meet them at the courthouse (provided I knew where it was). I even made myself an acronym to describe such a match, which also serves to prove my fluency in Christianese and all things cheesy: ChAP, which stands for character, attraction, and pursuit. The idea goes that when I find a man of genuine, Godly character (this of course requires some further definition which I won't get into now), who I am attracted to and compatible with, and who pursues a relationship with me, then I am ready to marry him. I know that this makes quite a few people either roll their eyes and pity my innocence or want to stone me for suggesting that it's so easy. And really, I understand that it's not. But maybe it is. I mean, I would eventually like to marry and have a family. I think many of my motivations may actually be pure in this: I want to be able to serve and love another person within the intimacy that only a husband and wife can share. I'd like to raise my children in a Godly, loving home. And I hope to minister to other women in many different life stages and know how God can uniquely minister to His people with my husband and I as a unit, instead of two individuals. Knowing this, knowing what it means to have Godly character, and knowing (though this may be where my process is least evolved) when I am attracted to someone, it seems that taking the leap into a marriage isn't so scary. The thing is--and this is where everything ties together--you learn as you go. Follow God. Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. And all these things will be added unto you...just like the verse, just like the song. I already know that marriage will have ups and downs, and some really difficult downs at that, but I also know that it is a commitment I want to make when I find someone worth making that commitment to (and believe me, if you had any idea the kinds of men on my list, you wouldn't worry about me jumping into things too fast). In marriage, you commit to another person what is also a commitment to God, and if you follow Him, He provides security. In jobs and money, you follow God, and He provides security. Follow God, get security. Done and done.

Now, in light of this intensive rant, I almost feel the need to add a paragraph in which I confess all of my deep, dirty sins, lest any of my readers be tempted to think that I am somehow SuperChristianGirl. I have for sure got plenty of yuck in my life. And I can very clearly attest to the fact that life isn't simple when you break it down. I'm still learning all of this, and trying to remember who God is, compared to me, so that my pride won't explode out of control. There's lots of question-begging that I'm sure will fill pages and pages of blog posts in the years to come, and I know I'll probably do all sorts of stupid things that completely contradict what I've written. I'll likely go out with a few more schmucks before I get married and have a break-down over financial issues. This is why I like the Shoreline Women's mantra: the pursuit of progress, not perfection. Yet, I actually find some comfort in knowing that the big picture isn't so complicated after all, especially if you are God and your thinking far surpasses that of any human.

I think God finds my blog kind of funny.

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...

Go Slow

There is a lot inside of me that hurts

And you

Won’t be able to fix it

Not because you are somehow inadequate

Or the damage is too great

Or anything like that

I

I guess

I mean

I don’t really even think I’m broken

In the traditional sense

There isn’t anything

Wrong

Per say

About me

I just

Am

I am

This is me

I

I have stuff

But I am so ready

And I will love you so greatly

I want to and I can

But what I need

What I really need

Is to know that you will be patient with me

Stuff happens

And stuff changes you

And I’ve got some changes that most people don’t want to deal with

I’m not looking for you to deal with me

I have so much to give

But you have to go slow

I'm Taking a Poll

Ok so for my voice class, I have to fill out this questionnaire, so I've decided to turn it into a blog poll (because this is what I do). Hence, I need your responses. I've already answered the questions for myself, but I have to figure out what other people would say about me. Please be nice...

If I were an animal, what animal would I be?

and..

If I were a historical or fictional character, who would I be?

And, yes, I am paying 35 thousand a year to fill out surveys like this. Man I love my school :)

On a less depressing note...

So I feel as though my initial post about Germany just sounds rediculously depressing, so here is a happier note (and some pictures). Sprachcamp is truly an incredible experience. Yeah yeah...I know that everyone says their mission trip is the best ever, but this one just happens to be right up my alley. I get to play games all week, its on the beach, and for some bizarre reason they think my dorkiness is cool ;) It's amazing to me how God can personally design me to be specifically effective in a place like this, and the ministry He is doing in Germany through camp is definately one that I want to be a part of as long as I am still effective there. More pictures to come soon!!

I think it's midnight in Germany...

I keep trying to think of reasons why I'm glad that I'm home. I can get online as much as I want, I'm going to straiten my hair and fully fix my makeup for the first time in three weeks, and I bought a bunch of fruit at the grocery store.

Alas, I'm eating Nutella and bread, checking emails from all my German friends, and re-reading camp books. I hate this part.

Well, I'm not really sure how you're supposed to sum up a missions trip. I wrote a little bit in my journal on the airplane home:

"These past weeks were incredible, to say the least. Meeting and encouraging so many brothers and sisters was such a wonderful blessing...My heart aches for [the pain and struggles that so many of them deal with]. It really makes me want to uproot and move to Germany..."

No really...I think what has made it so hard for me to return home these last two years from Sprachcamp is that it is a ministry that I feel completely called to. I am so blessed by how God is able to work through me there so it just makes sense to me that I need to be there physically. I find my heart when I'm serving at camp, and every time those kids get on the bus to go home, pieces of my heart go with them. I want to be actively involved in their lives throughout the year, and email never seems like enough.

One thing about camp this year that I especially enjoyed was all the time I was able to spend talking to Jodi. She and I discussed our ideas about ministry and what kinds of things God has done in our lives. Something she said that really stuck with me was that she and I were the type of people who would move all over the place in ministry...that the normal church or missions lifestyle was not enough for us. She's totally right. I hate sitting still. I want to be a revolutionary--changing the lives of people in significant and monumental ways. I know, I know that God is using me here in LA in great ways that I just don't understand or see them, but I have this powerful twinge inside me that keeps begging for more. I am so encouraged by how much some of my German friends love the Lord. They live in a culture where it isn't really normal and and definately not easy to be a Christian. I want to be there to show them the abundant life that God can give. I hope that's what I did this week, but I ache to live this out year-round.

My "normal" life always feels like stagnacy. I know it's not...I know it doesn't have to be. I know all the church answers to my questions, but those words don't douse the burning I feel inside. Maybe that's cliche or dorky or whatever. But man...there really are no words. It's in me. So when I leave Sprachcamp to come back home, I can't help but feel a bit broken. The aching is hard to handle, and that coupled with the jet-lag can really throw a girl. My body thinks I'm still in Germany, my heart stayed over there, and my mind can't find any reason to keep me here in America much longer.

(A note to the reader: While I normally am all about hearing people's comments to my blog posts, I'd really prefer not to receive any blurbs that attempt to encourage me by spouting Christianese mumbo-jumbo. Granted, I know that these types of comments are written with love and intended to remind me of Biblical truth concerning God's plan for my life; however, I know these church answers. I know that I'll be ok and that God will continue to work on me here in LA. This is not an answer-seeking post but my poor attempt at expressing how I feel on day one back at home. God's got all the answers I'm looking for...just thought I'd write out how I feel just in case it helps someone else to know that they aren't alone. More stories and reflections from Sprachcamp to come.)

Blue Baby Needs a Makeover

Today I detailed my car.

Which for me, just means I washed her really well, inside and out. I actually had some thoughts for a post about the sexual implications of washing your car...how you know all the blemishes intimately and must take great attention to detail in order for the washing to be truly effective. Etc... But I won't go there completely. I plan to keep this blog all-ages appropriate, so there's a bit of a teaser for you. I'll go more in detail if you care to ask me sometime. (Thank goodness I'm about to leave for Germany Tuesday. Maybe people will have forgotten to ask by the time I return in August.)

Anyways...what I did notice about my sad precious was that she is in desperate need of a makeover.

First, a bit of history. I got my Volkswagen Jetta (that's right...she's German) at the end of my Junior year of highschool. After more than a year of rocking the soccer-mom-minivan, my parents upgraded me to my pretty. Really, giving me a new car was a huge deal because we've never really had the money to do that sort of thing, and I really wasn't pushing for it. Long-story short, I now own my full-on dream car. She's exactly what I wanted, and I completely didn't deserve her (there's a salvation analogy for you..) I gave her a name, Blue Baby, which holds less meaning than Stanislavski to a twenty-two year old trailer-park mother of three for anyone reading this. Another one of those ask-me-later things.

Well Blue Baby is now nearing the ripe old age of 39 (considering the turn-over rate of American automobiles, I feel that they should be aged in months...at least till further notice when someone comes up with a formula for "car years"). Despite her newfound home in LA...or perhaps because of it, she's starting to show some flaws: a key scratch here, a ding there, and so forth. Clearly, these are all purely cosmetic. But this is LA. And I'm starting to feel that with the proliferation of high definition television and Botox, she could use a bit of work. I'm not talking major plastic surgery or anything...just a few minor procedures here and there.

It's funny how these things don't seem so visible until you pull out the magnifying mirror or someone captures a candid shot from an awkward angle. Yet another post topic.

Alas, being a poor college student, I will have to save and wait patiently until I have the opportunity to clean her up some. It's too bad that I can't throw her a birthday party and collect gift money...or write to Oprah to have these things taken care of. For now, I guess the best case scenario is to stick to dark corners, Blanche-style...or see if anyone has come up with a good concealer. I'll try Google.

Prayer Support Letter for Germany

Here's the letter I sent out to people this morning. Just in case I forgot some people (because I know I probably did), I figured I'd post it on here for all of my blog readers. I know I've been lame lately about posting my new and bizarro theories and epiphanies, but life has been so crazy recently. Expect many exciting stories on the 8th when I return.

To Those I Love…

Countdown to Germany is only a couple more days, and I’m starting to really get excited!! For those of yall who weren’t aware, I am returning to Germany again this summer to participate in Sprachcamp, an English-speaking camp for teenagers where German students come to practice their English in a Christian environment with American counselors. Last year’s camp was such an incredible experience for me, and I am continually amazed at how the Lord has further blessed me in this ministry. This year, Bel Air Presbyterian, the church here in LA that is sending us, asked me to lead the team. Of course I feel ridiculously inadequate, but I’m stoked about how God can work through me. We will be working with several other churches around the US under our camp director Mitch Bernay, and many of the students I met last year will be returning. I get to see a bunch of my old friends!

The planning stages have gone really well, and my team is a wonderful collection of men and women from all walks of life. Thanks so much to those who have encouraged and prayed for me in this part of the process. Now that the logistics are in place—we have tickets, I found my passport, my laundry is washing as we speak—I get to the fun part. Here’s where I’d like to ask for your help. Because I’m leading the trip, Bel Air has paid for all my expenses, which was a complete answer to prayer. That means that I can write letters just to tell yall how fabulous God is without having to add that part about money. What I would like, though, is much more important to me anyway—your prayers. As with any trip, safety for me and the team is clearly important, but in addition to that, here are some things that I would specifically appreciate prayer for:

• Wisdom to lead the team well, since I may be in charge of making some decisions that concern the California team (luckily, Mitch will be calling most of the shots).
• Openness from the counselors and German students—that we will build relationships and provide them a safe place to share their struggles.
• Spiritual growth within our team.
• My emotional health—as the trip comes closer, I’m starting to really feel Satan attacking me at this weak point. I’m on some medications that will help. I know that I will be fine, but I just don’t want that to be a hindrance to my time with the Germans. Please pray that Satan won’t be able to take me out of the game.

Thank yall so much! I cannot express how much it means to me to have so many incredible men and women of God behind me as I head over there. I’ll be leaving LAX this Tuesday, the 18^th at 7:30 AM and won’t return until the evening of August 8^th. Mostly likely, I will not be anywhere near a computer, so don’t be offended if you don’t hear from me. I’ll send out a full report when I get back.

In His Blessed Name,

Meredith Cooper

Shoreline Park Prayer Meeting

Tonight we took a field trip during prayer meeting down to a park near to the Berkeley Boys' house. At said park, we separated for about thirty minutes for our own personal reflection and prayer time to lift up the needs of the church body. I always love Shoreline prayer meetings because they allow me time to spend in prayer while providing the most fabulous fellowship time, like, ever. This evening, of course, was no exception. Though we didn't spend as much time discussing our prayer requests with each other, I really enjoyed getting some alone time with God. Life gets hectic, and I'll admit that I'm not so fabulous when it comes to setting aside generous chunks of time with the Lord.

Despite my shortcomings, God really showed up tonight to teach me a few things. Even though I had been no where near faithful about coming before the Lord this week, I'm convinced that He has a few words to whisper into my ear. Here's how it all went down.

I definately love nature. So I really enjoyed getting to lean on the trees and play with the flowers and listen to the creek flowing in this little park. It was also a really interesting juxtaposition to the city street, accompanying noise and slightly scary homeless. Lots of creation to observe there on Wilshire.

In light of recent unmentionable life issues, I started thinking about love languages. This dude named Gary Chapman wrote a book about love languages that I recently read, even though I've known about the concept for years now. Basically, he suggests that people understand and show love in different ways, which he categorizes as the five major love languages: quality time, words of affirmation, gifts, acts of service, and physical touch. He suggests that many relationships struggle because the partners, in a sense, speak different languages to each other. What may communicate love to one party, may not reach the other, which in turn causes that person to feel unloved since no one speaks to him in his own language. I think that serves as a decent explanation of the concept, but it's kind of late, so if this section makes no sense, I'm sorry. I will spell check this post at least...

Anyways, I am a total physical touch person. I love to be hugged (not awkward side or static-pat-on-the-back hugs). I bite. I pounce. I wrestle. This says love to me. If you are one of the privileged few whose appendage contains a dental imprint clear enough to identify me on CSI, know that you are sincerely loved.

All my life, being fluent in physical-love has made certain situations difficult. Think Junior High when the Youth Group thing to do was to avoid touching or looking at boys. Hugs matter a lot to me, so being taught that they are somehow wrong made it difficult for me to feel loved by guy friends. It's also a huge bummer that I can't just curl up with God when I'm sad. I started thinking about this tonight....and with every other love language, God seems able to speak clearly to people. But He never touches me. Think about this...if you are most loved by affirmations, reading what God says about you in the Bible can be a really encouraging reminder that He definately loves you. If you feel most loved when someone spends quality time with you, it's easy to set aside quality time with God. Gifts? Just count your blessings. Service? Think of all the things God has arranged in your life--those "coincidences" that have allowed you wonderful opportunities. But who has gotten to tackle God? Who gets to sit in His lap? I started to wonder...This totally can't be fair! God loves all the other language groups--why doesn't he love me in the way that I was created to feel most loved?

I moved on from this topic and tried again to focus on praying for the church and the specific needs of our members. As we wrapped up, I off-handedly commented that I had spent the entire time touching everything I saw: the tree bark and branches, the rocks, and the flowers. what can I say? I'm tactile.

It hit me mid-group-prayer. God let me touch everything in His creation. I was inadvertantly touching Him.

How amazing is it that God can and will speak to each of us in a language we understand. If we are willing to keep our eyes open, we will begin to notice God's overwhelming love in all sorts of weird places. He's around whether we see Him or not, and He longs to love us in a unique and special way. He knows our slang, our inside jokes...everything that makes our speech patterns our own.

Subconscious Conclusion

Verdict: Aforementioned boy belongs in the same category as the other vomit-inducers. Thank you Subconscious for the early warning.

Done and Done.

My subconscious is making me crazy!!

What does it mean if you have dreams about a boy you currently like where the two of you are together, but then somewhere along the line he morphs into some guy from your past?

There are a couple more key details:
* These past guys are the kinds of um..."experiences" that you would like to forget ever happened. Like...when someone brings up the names of these guys, it tends to induce vomiting..
* Said "boy" in question (who shall remain nameless) is one of those extremely confusing types that you kind of want to like but you won't let yourself because you don't want to get too excited just in case he's a total tool and never calls. You know the ones.

Input and analysis are much appreciated.

Yup...still awake...but more profound this time and angry for an actually legitimate reason...

Everyone needs to arrange 35 minutes of time to check out Colmery's Water and Wine sermon at www.shorelinewest.org (from June 5) He discusses how Jesus' first miracle was at a party. When the alcohol ran out and the party started to suck, Jesus saved the day with barrels of awesome merlot. Imagine what that would have looked like on the Row today...

Awesome perspective on how Jesus was a fun guy--not some lame-o stereotype like so many Christians are today. People wanted to be around this guy. Why do we whitewash Christ? He wasn't a cheesy Ned Flanders type, but a true, authentic, cool guy. True, He did not sin. I'm not saying He was shady by any stretch of the imagination...progressive, but not shady. He got invited to parties. He hung around with some crazy ghetto thugs and doped-up prostitutes. I just wish that more Christians today could chill out a bit. Instead of working so hard at self-purification (though good) we should just enjoy the abundant life God has blessed us with. Share. Love. When our concern shifts from do-gooding to loving God and others, the holiness thing will fall into place. If we are all supposed to ask what Jesus would do and then live accordingly, we ought to take a realistic look at what Jesus did. He had fun.

Alas, a soapbox for me... Lest I continue in pointless ranting, I shall sum up with this:

Christians, pull that stick out of where you know it doesn't belong. Enjoy the party.

Late Night Nothings

It's 4:55 AM.

I may have slept for a total of 30 minutes at one time. This has been happening for the last three nights. I wish I could say that I'm up thinking about insightful things or something, but really I'm just awake checking the clock, groaning, and angrily changing positions. I suppose there are a lot of things going on in my life right now. I'm here in LA working for the summer--first summer away from home (Mere avoids a cheesy comment about being a "big girl" now), planning and leading a mission trip to Germany, and trying to keep up with friends. Honestly, it's been absolutely amazing. I really enjoy having a work schedule instead of a bunch of classes to attend, books to read, and essays to write. I'm even working on an art project currently, and I've got several other little projects in line once this one is done. Really, I have no room for complaints.

Except I can't sleep. And this is irritating. Really that's all I have to post. Apparently I'm pretty boring late at night. No insight. Time to check the clock again and be pissed off.

5:02

...rolling over...

I guess I could get up in a couple of hours. Thank goodness my computer is back home or this really would be unbearable.

Ok. I'm done.

Freak Yoga Accident and Computerless Adventures

So all of my faithful followers who are going through separation anxiety because I haven't written in so long--be of good cheer! Sadly, I have been out of commission lately due to a quite unfortunate set of events which I shall henceforth relate...

I would like to blame fashion magazines. Alas, giving pre-teens eating disorders is not their only sin. These unfortunate bits of destroyed forest are infamous for relating the latest workout advice. "Six Steps to Sexy Abs" or "Get Angelina's Lips with Three Moves You Can Do in Your Car!" You get my drift. So being the avid workout fiend I am, I opted to try some new yoga poses that guaranteed to give me Jen's arms (you can check them out next time you see me ;) Like any ol' yoga session, I put on some chill music in my room and began all the breathing and centering, third eye whatnot. I wish I could really describe the complications of this pose with adequate detail...I suppose I could take some step-by-step photos but I'm wearing a dress and I don't want to change. Anyways...just trust me when I say it was difficult. So mid Downward Dog Flip Over Action, I managed, despite my excellent sense of balance and grace, to fall over...into my desk...and kick over my water bottle...onto the keyboard.

This all happened at the beginning of June. Gateway told me on the phone that they would return my baby in 7-10 days. 20 days later, she comes home.

Finally.

I thought I was going to cry this morning when I walked in to find the box on my table. Ahh...welcome home Athena :)

Financial Priorities and a Poem Inspired by Prep Center

*26*

Number of receipts from visiting a coffee establishment since 2006 began.
(as recorded in my "Finances" Excel document)

*28*
Number of receipts from visiting Ralphs (the grocery).

Variables: I have a tendency to lose the coffee receipts or forget to ask for them.

Hypothesis: Over time, I will, like my fellow Los Angelinos, develop the ability to subsist solely on Starbucks.

Conclusion: pending.

And here's another good one...

*4*
Number of parking tickets recorded since January.

*$41*
Average cost per ticket.

*$164*

Approximate amount of money paid to the city of Los Angeles for blocking an 8-foot area of curb during street cleaning.

*44*
Estimated number of Starbucks runs I could have made with this money.
(Kind of makes you want to cry, doesn't it?)

Facts:
1. Street parking here in the ghetto = RIDICULOUS!
2. Coffee = Happiness

Given: the information provided in this problem and the Geometric principles of the Car-to-Curb Formula and the Espresso Theory...

Prove: that LA seriously owes me an intense coffee date.

**^**

Ok...I'll stop with all the crazy math stuff...I've started working at Prep Center, a company that provides tutoring services for highschool level students, and I'm feeling all sorts of educational as of late. They hired me for English and History. Then they asked me to do some math. Kind of funny. I'm teaching geometry to 5th and 6th graders. It's been like 5 or 6 years since I've done geometry. So I'm learning it all over again...which is (awkwardly) really fun for Meredith. Todays topics also included World War I, simplifying radical equations, avoiding the passive voice, and why Kobe Bryant is the best basketball player in the NBA. I had anywhere from 4 to 7 kids at any given time, but most of them are super smart and don't really want/need my help. So when Leann and Jen no longer required my assistance, I found some time to write a poem. As my title for this blog entry indicates, I was actually inspired to write this poem...but I won't bore you with the train of thought that brought me from an essay on The Scarlet Letter to the concept behind this poem. In fact, I'm really not going to explain anything about the poem so you can all make your own assumptions and judgments about me through whatever wacky interpretation of my words that you come up with. That said...

(currently untitled)

What is the benefit if it grows and grows?
What does it prove if no body knows
The secret behind those shadowy rows?

Stop.

and close
your eyes

There in the fountain a child dances,
Dreaming and singing of adult romances.
Open
and Free
and Ready
To Love.
To Give.
To Be.

the best Love
for her Love

Who Studies When They Could Be Blogging? or, Another Adage to My Dorkdom

Kudos to Melodrama for the title-style.

Moving on to Realism...a quote from it's master, Henrik Ibsen:

"Anyone who wishes to understand me fully must know Norway."

A quote from this master, Meredith Cooper:

"Anyone who wishes to understand me fully must know Texas."

You know those obnoxious people who are always talking about where they are from and comparing everything from here to where they used to be? They're always going around saying stuff like, "Well back in Wexford, everybody is pink and filled with makeup." Or maybe, "Yeah, so in Pixley, beauty means still having all of your teeth." It's irritating because everything here is judged by some crazy-weird standard that no one you know has ever heard of...but we are all supposed to assume that we understand the small-town ranter...smile and nod, or try to interrupt and change the subject. Yeah...you know who I'm talking about.

I am that kid.

But the problem in my case is that a good 84% of what I refer to as my "Texas experience" applies only to me...and some chick named Midge that lived in the 1950s. Actually, I rather enjoy proliferating these stereotypes. Probably because I am one. Think Southern Belle-Susy Homemaker, and you've pretty much got me all summed up, which leads me to make comments like, "In Texas, they raise us to be a good wife and mother." Which isn't true. For some of the people there...

Ok...so to avoid offending any Southerners or Texans, lets just talk about me. (yeah that doesn't sound self-absorbed) But honestly, here are just a few facts from my life before LA:
* I was born going to a Baptist church where the third row on the left side of the sanctuary belonged to my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and of course our unit of four. The Cooper Clan ate together every Sunday after church, either at the A&M Cafeteria (where we also had a designated table) or at Pappaw's house, potluck-style.
*My Mama taught me to sew from the day I could safely hold a needle and thread. I made my first dress at age seven.
*By middle school I could properly and thoroughly clean my home as well as prepare a lovely dinner. I also began babysitting (ie: practicing for when I would become a mommy).
* In Junior High, the girls in my Bible study learned what it meant to wait for a godly man and only date with the purpose of marriage. I had a totally legit list of standards by the time I finished the 7th grade that described what I was looking for in my future husband.
* In High School I went to all four Homecoming Dances (complete with ridiculously huge mums) and three Junior-Senior Proms (including my Sophomore year where I was asked by a Junior).
* At church I did all the leadershipey stuff and sang with the band on Sunday mornings.
* Senior year I took both regular and advanced Floral Design and was chosen by my teacher to teach a workshop where I was in charge of explaining the largest and most complicated arrangement.

Honestly...who does all that stuff?? The only thing I really lacked was being head cheerleader and dating the quarterback (although I did date the soccer player, football player, preppie scholastic type, and perfect church boy...all classic choices). I came from "good stock," and performed beautifully all the duties of a perfect housewife. When I finished High School, I planned to attend Texas A&M, where I would get my MRS degree and graduate with my Aggie ring on one hand an a diamond on the other. Of course that last part never came to fruition, but I was going strong during the preparatory phase.

Now to the point of this awkward collection of thoughts--those who understand this type of upbringing get it when I say that I feel behind because I'm about to be a Junior in college and I don't know yet who I am going to marry. For some people, their hometown, neighborhood, or state don't seem to make much difference. How many people do you know that are all about Iowa pride? But at the same time, if you grew up on a corn farm, it's going to show at least a little bit, like it or not. I enjoy generalizing about Texas and the South because it's funny (at least to me), but I'm a smart kid. I know that my perspectives of growing up in the specific family and specific community within Texas where I spent 18 years of my life are not the same as everyone else's. Really, most of my friends from home don't have the same type of picture of College Station as I do. But where's the fun in representing the complete truth? Thank you Natalie Portman for putting it so well: "Lying's the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. But it's better if you do."

Therefore, I will continue to make my sarcastic generalizations as long as they continue to incite freaked-out, confused, or otherwise laughable responses from my audience. So there!! I will be starting sentences with "Well in Texas..." for the rest of my life--probably even on my death bed--so you can either get used to it or move to Canada. Of course, in Texas, we'd never even think about leaving this great nation because we are ALL proud to be Americans...

Thanks to Brother Scott :)

So I just feel the need to share with the WHOLE WORLD these awesome words of truth that have come via my pastor, Scott, at Shoreline Community Church. We're starting a new sermon series through the gospel of John, and I had NO CLUE that the first few verses were so full of amazingness. Seriously, take the thirty or so minutes out of your day to listen to Scott's sermon on April 23, 2006. How great is our God!!

On another note, I've decided we should bring back calling each other "Brother/Sister so-and-so" within the church. I think I shall add this to my list of ministries with Shoreline. Baby Promotion Specialist. Potluck Promoter. And now Title Encourager. It is so cool to be a part of what God is doing within this group. Building relationships within this family has been so wonderful for me and a total answer to prayer. :)

Learning the Bible in a Secular Classroom

So I'm in this Hebrew Bible (AKA Old Testament) class here at SC (no literally...I'm sitting in the class right now), and I've been pondering lately why the class inevitably puts me in a terrible mood once I step through the doors...and along the same line, why I would rather re-read all of my friends' Facebook profiles...or review my bank statement...or try to teach myself Mandarin Chinese by staring really hard at a foreign newspaper, than actually pay attention in class.

So as an aspiring theorist, I began my investigation through some of my fellow students. More specifically, I wanted to see how some of the other Christians in the class felt about what we've "learned" this semester. My two test-subjects proved complete opposites. And if it's possible...I think I'm more of a third opposite than a compromise in the middle. Hence, the need for further exploration: a blog post. *dum dum dumm*

The big issue that I'd like to address is whether or not it is beneficial to be taught the Bible from a non-Christian perspective. My gut reaction, and the reason I chose to take this class in the first place, is an overwhelming YES--of course it will be helpful. Clearly, if I remain immersed solely in Christian perspectives and influences, I am more likely to swallow the information I'm given, without even chewing. Naturally, I would utterly choke when served a challenging viewpoint. Or at best, crawl away with a feeling of indigestion.

As a responsible adult, I know it's important to view ANY idea from all different sides in order to make an informed decision about what I think (and of course so that I can prove to everyone else that I'm right...) So the plan this semester was to broaden my Biblical palate through this course, not especially for spiritual purposes, but for general education (hence this class falls under the options for "general education requirements"). I mean, really...
1) I'd be all about the assigned readings (great excuse to pound away a significant chunk of the Old Testament)
2) I could definately score an A since I've got years of Sunday School experience
And 3) I would naturally interpret scripture better in my own studies via understanding the cultural context in a deeper way.
Sounds fab, right? I get a grade-booster and some extra knowledge to apply to studying God's Word. Obviously, I don't expect much by the way of God-moments and epiphanies from class (How can one without the Holy Spirit really understand and teach the things of God?), but I use the extra information more as a tool to fascilitate a new depth to my time with the Lord.

Instead, what I get is the sense that every lecture is an intensive "Happy-Meal Challenge." Someone's taken my precious faith, tossed it in the blender, and now force-feeds it to me by the paper-cupful. *echk echk* Is that part of a ketchup packet...? Who threw the straw into the mix?? Honestly...

I guess that's the key. I don't feel like I'm learning and discussing the Bible as it was meant to be studied, but that I'm trying to reconcile pulverised pieces of scripture with all sorts of weird outside influences. Don't get me wrong--I think it's a great idea to discover how other writings and archaeological evidence enlightens the worldview of different eras in Scripture, but at the same time, the class presents these as "proof" that Biblical redactors copied their ideas from someone else or blatantly made them up. Class time, then, is a chance to dig into the flaws and sift out any remaining granules of belief. And this does not make Meredith happy.

I'm becoming convinced that what I really need is supplemental instruction...like a mini seminary professor to sit on my shoulder and provide other thoughts to ponder along with the information that the university feeds my brain. I leave class with twice as many questions as I began with...and the only effective way I've found to get rid of them (because I don't know any seminary kiddos who can spare 3 or 4 hours a week to educate me further) is to hate the class and quit caring about what the professor has to say. If my head is full of Facebook facts or Mandarin, I can tune out the blasphemy. I wish I could take a follow-up course where they'd teach me the whole thing over again in a comparative format: here's what they told you, and here's how different churches interpret it. Yes, I want to know what the world has to say about my God--how they fight to disprove Him. But first, I need a deeper understanding of what the Bible has to say. I've got the opposing argument down pat...now I need to know my own side better.

An epiphany!!

This would be a great class to take once I finish seminary...

Anyone know where I can sit in on some Bible classes? Or pick up an un-juiced burger? Feedback greatly appreciated :)

Seriously though...

Why am I always attracted to the most unattainable men ever???

This has been a topic of some ponderation (yes it's a word) for me lately. Today in Theatre History, we discussed Freud. I don't really know anything about Freud aside from a vague idea of his Oedipus Complex theory, but I bring him up because he was all sorts of psycho-analytical about stuff, and I'm sure he would have plenty to say about my bizarro crushes.

Here's how it works:
*Meredith wants to one day be married and have children.
*Marriage and children require a man, who must go through the stages of acquaintance, attraction, friends, talking, hanging-out, dating, exclusively dating, courting, engagement, etc, etc. (yeah...there are like a billion terms...)
*Meredith has high standards for said husband/father position.
*Meredith actually encounters such quality material.
*Said material is way out of Meredith's league.
*Meredith admires/respects material from afar.
*Meredith remains single.

Not that I'm complaining about the remaining single part of that, because currently it's working out fairly well for me, but my eternal pessimist postulates that I may be in for the long haul. See, the part about the unattainable guy that's so tricky is that you can't attain him. Like...by definition.

Of course, I will continue hard-headedly to like him anyways. Because apparently that's just how I roll.

Explain that to me, Freud...

Sister Aftermath.

Understatement 1: this weekend was fabulous.

Understatement 2: my sister is hot. Really hot.

Check out the amazingness that is these pictures. Yes...some of these were taken in traffic. But it was stopped. I swear ;) Then of course there are the pretty Easter pictures. Thanks to Allison for playing paparazzi since Dad couldn't do it.

Seriously, this weekend totally rocked, it was so awesome having my sister here to get into all sorts of trouble with. *sigh* If only Texas were closer...

Sister!!

A Poem.

My sister is here now.
She sits next to me.
We visit.

New Band!!

Some Fabulousness that we should all be aware of...

"Dark Blue"

Jack's Mannequin

I have. I have you
Breathing down my neck, breathing down my neck
I don't, don't know
What you could possibly expect under this condition
So I'll wait, I'll wait
For the ambulance to come, ambulance to come
Pick us up off the floor
What did you possibly expect under this condition

So slow down... this night's a
Perfect shade of dark blue, dark blue
Have you ever been alone
In a crowded room when I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning down
Dark blue (dark blue)
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room well I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning 'til there's nothing but dark blue..
Just dark blue

This flood (this flood) is slowly rising up swallowing the ground
Beneath my feet, Tell me how anybody thinks under this condition so
I'll swim (I'll swim) as the water rises up, the sun is sinking down
And now all I can see are the planets in a row
Suggesting it's best that I slow down

This night's a perfect shade of
Dark blue (dark blue)
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room when I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning (burning) down
Dark blue (dark blue)
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room well I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning dark blue

We were boxing
We were boxing the stars
We were boxing (we were boxing)
You were swinging for Mars
And then the water reached the West Coast
And took the power lines (the power lines)
And it was me and you (this could last forever)
And the whole town under water
There was nothing we could do
It was dark blue

Dark blue (dark blue)
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room well I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning (burning) down
Dark blue
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room well I'm here with you
I said the room could be burning now there's nothing but dark blue

If you've ever been alone in the dark blue
If you've ever been alone you'll know (you'll know)

Nostalgia for Large Families, or Why Can't We All Just Be Friends?

I'm a huge advocate for small family size in America today--we're already over-populated and running out of plots to bury people. Plus, having two working parents in nearly every home leaves less time available to invest in the children, so it makes sense to only have two or three. Then there's the whole aspect of many children that's kind of obsolete, as in, you don't need ten farmhands, so having ten strapping boys just means more dirty laundry and less table manners.

But today it occured to me why we need large families. Maybe there's something to be said for four generations all living in the same household. We still need that safe-haven. Girls need brothers. I'm not sure how this applies to guys, so I won't venture there, but as a woman, this is something that has been on my mind a lot lately. If we were meant to live as families--blood community that suffers with you just because of who you are--then what implications does this have on those of us who are distant from our families emotionally and geographically?

Thanks to John Mayer, we are all familiar with the alleged effects of abusive fathers on girls. Anything from physical or emotional abuse to neglect clearly affects you as you grow up. But it's really more than that--no matter how old you get, men play an important role in how you view yourself and the rest of the world. My daddy and my brother are far away...but I still long for that male, protective presence in my life. In high school I must have been too preocupied being emo to appreciate having both a loving father and a brother to stand with me. Because I grew up around the same people for twelve years of school, many of my guy-friends were also like brothers. If I were at home, there are several of them that I could call for no reason or with any problem. Through time, those relationships developed into secure spaces for me because more or less, a brother's love is safe.

At the same time, I am also a huge believer in the idea that guys and girls can't really be friends. Especially as I get older, I notice that it is increasingly difficult to be friends with guys because getting to know each other requires intentionality, since you haven't had ten or so years of previous interaction. Intentionality implies interest...and interest usually turns out for the worse. Someone likes someone more and things get wierd and fall apart. So finding a deep friendship with a guy usually can only come in a romantic relationship.

Now here's where the problem all comes together: guys and girls can't really be friends...but we still need brothers in our lives. If my whole family lived together still, I could turn to Neil (my bro) or one of my guy cousins to complain, cry and find brotherly comfort. These men are safe because we are family. You can't/don't become romantically interested in blood relations. I can have a closeness with a brother that will be more fulfilling in some ways than I could ever have with a girlfriend...simply because he is a guy. Men and women compliment each other in a unique and God-designed way. From what I understand of the Bible, this is most closely represented in a marriage relationship, but in all types of community, it can be expressed on different levels. And without my family actually here, I really feel that void which my brother's filled. I'm not talking about that "hole" inside us that only God can fill, but the sense that a comfort and encouragement that I've grown accustomed to no longer supports me. Obviously, God has me in this place for a reason, and I trust that...but I still don't quite understand it. I miss having brothers. And I feel like I am at a place where the desire for romantic relationships prevents that familial option. Why can't the guys in my life really and truly be my brothers? It's on both sides--guys and girls are equally guilty of alterior intentions in relationships. It just makes life really frustrating because those does he/doesn't he/do I/don't I emotional attatchments are always at the back of my mind.

It's not really a fixable problem, I guess. But I just wanted to vent...and see if there are others who feel this too. Any suggestions? If men and women can't have deep friendships...but we desperately lack and really need those caring, familial relationships here in the Body of Christ, what do we do to remedy that?

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Watched this movie this weekend--made me wonder...

If I could have all the memories of certain people erased from my memory, would I? One specific person comes to mind. So the question goes...would he erase me?

I can't come to a quick answer.

I know that I'm supposed to say that I would always keep those memories because some of them are happy...and because the depths of the bad make the good things in life more vivid.

But some of it is really bad.

I guess I'm glad that I don't have the option...because I can't say that I'd make the right choice.

Mere Commentary

(I think I might have just found the title for my autobiography...catch the pun on C.S. Lewis's book + my name?)

Today for Shakespeare class we are reading a play by Thomas Kyd called The Spanish Tragedy. Somehow this will relate to Shakespeare. Of course I don't know exactly what Carnike wants us to pull from this, but I'm definately pro-Kyd. (also pro-kid, but that doesn't really apply here) Some quotes...

Balthazar speaking of Bel-imperia:
But wherefore blot I Bel-imperia's name?
It is my fault, not she, that merits blame.
My feature is not to content her sight,
My words are rude and work her no delight.
The lines I send her are but harsh and ill,
Such as do drop from Pan and Marsyas' quill.
My presents are not of sufficient cost,
And being worthless all my labour's lost.
Yet might she love me for my valliancy;
Ay, but that's slandered by captivity.
Yet might she love me to content her sire;
Ay, but her reason masters his desire.
Yet might she love me as her brother's friend;
Ay, but her hopes aim at some other end.
Yet might she love me to uprear her state;
Ay, but perhaps she hopes some nobler mate.
Yet might she love me as her beauty's thrall;
Ay, but I fear she cannot love at all.

(cross-reference with the following songs "Not Pretty Enough" by Kasey Chambers and "Don't Waste Your Heart" by the Dixie Chicks) Here we have a girl-esque monologue similar to the "he said *such and such*--what does he really mean??" conversation that women tend to have, trying to interpret every slight thing a guy says or does. Here, though, Balthazar flip flops between good qualities/reasons that she might love him and circumstantial truths that would prevent that. I find this a ridiculously common battle in me--not sure if I can claim that others ever feel this way--but I'm always wondering, "what if?" when it comes to guys. Trying to be objective, I can make a list of reasons why certain guys should like me--perhaps this is prideful...but I'd like to think that it's an attempt to look honestly at myself. However, for every good thing I can think of, an equally bad trait or reason reminds me why said boy should not like me. How do you ever really know? The assumption goes, if he never shows interest, then the "bad" list of qualities must be true about me. Not that I know much about logic, but I'm pretty sure this is faulty somehow. Bring in the last line and the Dixie Chicks song--perhaps there is another reason for my singleness that has nothing to do with me. In many ways, I see myself wondering the same kinds of things here as Balthazar, although I can also relate to Bel-imperia. I fear I cannot love at all. I wonder sometimes if anyone has ever thought these things about me...because even though all the facts suggest I should be interested in certain guys, I'm not. What's up with that?? Basically no matter how you discuss, debate, or dissect it, I'm never going to understand why God has me where I am right now relationally. I think if God were to interject here, He'd say, "uh...yeah...that's the point. Chill out. Quit dwelling."

Moving on...Kyd includes this super-sexy banter between Bel-imperia and her lover, Horatio...

Bel-imperia
My heart, sweet friend, is like a ship at sea:
She wisheth port, where riding all at ease,
She may repair what stormy times have worn,
And leaning on the shore, may sing with joy
That pleasure follows pain, and bliss annoy.
Possession of thy love is th'only port,
Wherein my heart, with fears and hopes long tossed,
Each hour doth wish and long to make resort;
There to repair the joys that it hath lost,
And sitting safe, to sing Cupid's choir
That sweetest bliss is crown of love's desire
...
Let dangers go, thy war shall be with me,
But such a war as breaks no bond of peace.
Speak thou fair words, I'll cross them with fair words;
Send thou sweet looks, I'll meet them with sweet looks;
Write loving lines, I'll answer loving lines;
Give me a kiss, I'll countercheck thy kiss:
Be this our warring peace, or peaceful war.

(later we see this in action)

Horatio
Then thus begin our wars: put forth thy hand,
That it may combat with my ruder hand.

Bel-imperia
Set forth thy foot to try the push of mine.

Horatio
But first my looks shall combat against thine.

Bel-imperia
Then ward thyself: I dart this kiss at thee.

Horatio
Thus I retort the dart thou threw'st at me.

Bel-imperia
Nay then, to gain the glory of the field,
My twining arms shall yoke and make thee yield.

Horatio
Nay then, my arms are large and strong withall:
Thus elms by vines are compassed till they fall.

Whoa there--that's hot. I can totally picture this staged--a playful fight using kisses and embraces as weapons or wrestling moves, the characters dancing around each other as in a fencing match, enjoying both conquering and being conquered. I mean honestly...

Hope you've enjoyed these tidbits of literary awesomeness. Over and out.

Connection Attempt Failed.

I really have a problem with all of those people who tell you, "if you ever need ANYTHING, call me anytime, night or day. If you need someone to talk to, you know I'm just a phone call away."

Intentions appreciated.

But these people can't really help...because you can't hug me through the phone or be there to run your fingers through my hair while I'm crying. When what you really want is touch...is presence, then talk just won't do.

I have been psychoanalyzed...

Here are some of the highlights:

"ESFJs are generous entertainers." (wait...what does this mean? Are we talking stage, movies, burlesque, C-list stripper?)

"ESFJs are easily wounded. And when wounded, their emotions will not be contained. They by nature 'wear their hearts on their sleeves,' often exuding warmth and bonhomie, but not infrequently boiling over with the vexation of their souls." (Dramatic much?)

"Their sense of right and wrong wrestles with an overwhelming rescuing, 'mothering' drive." (Ahh the South..)

"An ESFJ at odds with self is a remarkable sight. When a decision must be made, especially one involving the risk of conflict (abhorrent to ESFJs), there ensues an in-house wrestling match between the aforementioned black-and-white Values and the Nemesis of Discord." (yes...like a super-hero, I have nemesises...nemesi...nemesus...whatever)

"As caretakers, ESFJs sense danger all around...The world is a dangerous place, not to be trusted. Not that the ESFJ is paranoid...And thus they serve excellently as protectors, outstanding in fields such as medical care and elementary education." (Ironic that my name means Protector of the Sea? I think not.)

And according to this all knowing profile, some famous people that are also ESFJs include:
Desi Arnaz
Mary Tyler Moore
Sally Field
Nancy Kerrigan
Monica (from Friends)
Donald Duck
Rabbit (from Winnie the Pooh)

Yeah...interesting company...

There really are no words. I'm weird.

A Closer Moment

The movie Closer is one of my all time favorites. I love it for the way it portrays the dirtiness of human nature in a real and candid way. I mean...it's so real. But it's definately not the kind of real I want for my own life.

But today I had a moment...a Plain Jane moment where one of Natalie Portman's lines hit me in a very real and very scary way. Those who know me will attest to the fact that I have lots of random illegitimate crushes that always seem to be changing...and every now and then, I genuinely like someone--someone that I would actually want to go out with more than once. I know the kinds of things I am looking for, and I do run across them from time to time. With these guys, the "crush" is really more of a strong admiration...so even if they are unattainable, a part of me continues to sort-of like them just because they exemplify aspects of my ideal. There's a very clear difference (to me at least) between these guys and ordinary crushes.

But today I had an experience so new and so not fun with a more-than-a-crush guy. It was either a moment of perfect clarity or absolute distortion. Something in me switched...and Natalie Portman's line never rang clearer: I don't love you anymore. Goodbye.

Will this bring me any closer to who I am? Did I really just shut that down so thoroughly and so immediately? Where am I going now? Yes...it's just a guy. But this feels like the finale of all the doors that have been repeatedly shut for me in the last week.

Tonight, I don't feel closer to anything.
I don't like you anymore.
Goodbye.

Dreaming About Pregnancy Signifies Anxiety About a New Phase in Life

A couple of weeks ago, I had a dream where I found myself pregnant. The most distinct part of the dream was when I went into my kitchen to tell my roommate Alli. I was flipping out and asked, "How in the WORLD did I get pregnant without having sex?!?!"

Then last night, I had another dream about having a kid. I was with some people I don't know (though they were my friends in the dream) in a foreign Spanish-speaking country. We did something wrong that must have not been really wrong, because even though we were hunted by the government, many people were helping us out. So previous to all of this I had somehow had a child who has grown up to around 6 years old (yeah...I'm not sure exactly how long we had been there, but it didn't seem like long enough to have a 6 year old, but go with me on this) So that's about when the police came to get us wherever we were hiding out. It happened to quickly that I didn't have time to say much more to my daughter than, "I know we'll find each other soon." So we escape from jail and we're at this tavern and people keep coming in with news, food, or some of our old things that they managed to find. I kept asking everyone about my daughter since at this point, I would be able to bring her with me, and one old lady told me that she had come to my jail cell the day before (we left that morning, so I just missed her). The last thing that happened before I woke up was that amid flipping out about my kid, I began to wonder how I was going to explain this all to my parents.

Now, I find dreams utterly fascinating, and I think that there is definately some sort of merit to figuring out what they mean. I don't know exactly how much I buy about all the dream psychology, and I don't necessarily think that they are always super-significant (think angels appearing to Biblical figures). But I think that they can definately tell you things about yourself from the sub-conscious realm.

So what exactly does this dream mean? Is it due to my recent baby obsession? Or the fact that I watched Evita last night? Maybe I ate something weird. Thursday night, a friend of mine mentioned that pregnancy in a dream signifies change and fears/anxieties about some new life stage. I hit up Google to get some more info about the different parts of my dream. Aside from what Rochelle told me about pregnancy, I learned that dream analysts consider losing a child to mean something about fallen hopes, foreigners mean expansion of self into unfamiliar territory or an aspect of yourself that seems unfamiliar, and running from someone can mean not facing your fears. This means that a compilation of all these things in last night's dream could be my subconscious musing about my fears of change, disappointment, and the unfamiliar. All are definately possible. There are a couple of issues right now that I'm really wrestling over that scare me to death and don't seem to have answers just yet.

I have a confession to make. I kind of tricked you into reading this post--it's not really all about dreams and what they mean. The bigger question is what's up with freaking out about change?

As a general rule, I keep these posts vague when it comes to the personal details of my life, but this may make more sense if I leak just a little bit. The two big areas that are at the top of my prayer list right now deal with ministry and relationships. (And honestly, what else is really important in my life?) With ministry, I'm battling over where God wants me to be involved next year...and you're welcome to take a wild guess on what the relationships bit is about.

So my head keeps reminding me that if I am continually seeking the Lord, then all I need is patience to see what He reveals to me about these things. Trust in Him, and the other stuff will fall into place as it ought to. Still I worry. Right now I feel like I'm on the edge of something big. Like senior year of high school, these decisions seem to be just as big in guiding my life as the choice of where to go to college. There's potential for some really amazing things to happen soon--some big leaps from where I am right now, both spiritually and socially. Like always, I'm scared to death that I might completely botch it. My best friend, Mitzi, once told me that since God is in control, even I can't screw it up, which I do believe, in a sense. Given that we have freedom of choice, we are able to stray from "the plan," but if we are closely seeking Him, then as life changes, He will bring new things into our lives to glorify Him and bless us. To avoid getting into a discussion of Free-will versus Predestination, I'll leave this topic here. But the gem I want to pull from this is that it really makes no sense to freak out about making decisions (especially when some of them will be made for you) if you are genuinely seeking God in life.

Trust. Easy to talk about. Much harder to do.

I think that when we put high stakes on the choices we make, it's easier to flip out because we've put them on a pedestal. The higher the pedestal, the more damage will be done to the dream if it falls off...and the more damage it will do to your face when it smashes into you on the way down. Pessimistic? Me? No...

Seriously though, if we could learn to view the "big stuff" as not so big, then we could spend less time stressing over it and more time enjoying the transformation. Change doesn't always have to be scary. It can be fascinating and really cool to be a part of. I just don't think of it like that often enough.