When I lived in Prescott as a counsellor my eyes changed color. I remember my mom saying they were bluer, and we agreed maybe it was from the altitude. I was tanner, stronger, and more tired than I’ve ever been. Honestly, I thought I knew what tired was but then I was up at 6:30 a.m. every morning with 10 little girls by my side and I knew I knew nothing.
I was the happiest I’ve ever been.
I wonder, if my eyes are “more” blue now that I’m in San Diego. If I’m stronger. Or if I’m just a cigarette-craving fatty who needs a spanking.
There’s a saying I’ve seen a quarter of a million times (roughly) on Pinterest. It says, “Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”
Or is it?
I look at the months the locusts have eaten to quote Joel, and though I did rather enjoy wasting that time, it was still just that, a waste. I will not get that time back. It’s gone.
And yet, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Why?
Because all girls do it.
Over a short amount of time I’ve found myself staying up later and later, and having a harder time focusing on going to sleep. Well, I guess if sleep is something anyone has to focus on then you’re probably doing it wrong anyway right?
I’m not sure what it is. Yes, I’m tired. No, I didn’t sit around all day. I’m just so fitful. Like, literally I’m having fits. I’m buzzing away…buzz buzz buzz.
I want a big girl job. Maybe it’s hanging out with girls who have them, or maybe it’s just the side effect of getting older. But I really, really do. I want a career, which leads me to thinking…
ever since I was little, I’ve always done things my own way. Marching to my own beat is an understatement. I am not a woman for a boyfriend or a bachelor degree. My lines cannot be cut because they do not exist. I cannot cut on the dotted line because I can only cut outside of the line.
Deception has a funny way of appearing in the shape of an opportunity. I’ve seen some “opportunities” come and go over the these last few Winter months and well, I know some day I’ll be glad I didn’t take them, but for now, as I take a stand in knowing absolutely nothing but the grace of God, I wish I had. I wish I had taken a chance and made those mistakes.
But hey–wait. I already have made mistakes. But that’s the thing…I want to make more. Why? Because mistakes are fun! And I never want to not be having fun because that’s like…no fun. Do you understand?
My tendency to do the wrong thing comes from my same instinct to take risks just because I can. Your greatest weakness is an even greater strength. And so, restlessness too, is a gift.
My Grandpa texted me the other day (yes, he is that hip) to let me know he’d bought me light bulbs while he was out. I’ve had a lamp in my car over 8 months now that I’m finally getting around to using. Why did it take me so long to unload it?
I think subconsciously when I moved here I thought I was on vacation. I mean, I knew my parents weren’t together any more and that I’d be living here at my aunt’s. I knew I’d have a roof over my head, food to eat, family surrounding me. But living and settling are two different ideas.
To live somewhere is to abide there. It is a space in which you are a body. To settle is to creep inside of it. Allow it to creep inside of you. Do you see the difference?
And so my lamp is functioning well on top of my dresser, which is also no longer in storage. I’m thinking of buying 15 different knobs from my work to replace the ones already on it. Look at me, becoming the DIY girl.
In some ways I’m back to square one. When I moved here I virtually had no friends to spend time with, and alas, here I am again. But I don’t mind it so much now. In the long run, I think I’d still be lonely even in the wrong company. I try telling my dreams that but they seem to pay me no mind.
All is grace.
What does it take to cut a perfect square?
The other day I was helping my boss cut out these squares. You’d think cutting out a square would be as simple as following the lines with scissors. But not for me. Not one of my squares looked alike. They were all different. They looked like a ransom note letter, not a book for professional use.
This, too, is a gift.
I am not a perfect square. All of my creations are different.
I’ve decided to take a specialty course at Marinello in April. It’s going to be for 5 Sundays, all about the Fundamentals of Makeup. I do not know if this will further a career for me in any way. I do know that learning new things is hard for me. My cousin just said, a few minutes ago:
“Anything is rocket science if you’ve never done it before.”
What a true statement. I’m afraid. Of looking the fool, of being forced–with my hands tied behind my back–of saying, I do not know everything.
Well, I don’t.
I had a dream recently. In the dream, there are a bunch of people sitting around a table, discussing a story. I think they’re publishers. They continue to discuss the main character, what to do with him, how to make him come alive. Someone calls me out in the group, its a woman. She says I can help. So I begin to ask questions about this main character. Is he someone I’d want to be friends with? Is he someone you’d be friends with? I am asked, how is that relevant? I say, how is it not? Think. After a few moments I am talked out. They can’t hear me. I can’t hear me.
But for a few moments they needed me.
I was editor.
On days like today I wake up and it’s overcast outside, I cook my oatmeal and grab my coffee and just wait.
I’m not sure what I’m waiting for. A line I’ve heard over and over again in my head this past week is,
“Wait in that space.”
But Lord, wait for what? I wonder…
I wake up. It’s overcast outside. I cook my oatmeal, grab my coffee. Exercise, fold my laundry, make my bed. Shower. Go to work. Come home. Work on my Bible study. Watch Game of Thrones. Hop into bed. I wake up.
In the midst of the normalcy if that’s what we want to call it I find myself longing for things I used to want. I guess in that sense, I never stopped wanting them. But I don’t believe that even one believer comes to the Lord without baggage, or without dreaming of the life before.
It’s a new day. Unfortunately (fortunately) anything can happen. While this day does not carry with it pot or pancakes or the promise of an eventful evening, I’m okay. Really.