Tomorrow, Laura and I pick up the Belgians from the Chicago airport. On Thursday, the Indianapolis Project begins.
I'm second-guessing myself to the nth degree at this moment. I'm afraid of conflict, of plans that may need to be rearranged or of things that haven't been fleshed out yet. I'm afraid of making mistakes right now and I feel as though I'm surrounded by an alarm system that has those little laser lines that make criss-cross zaggy patterns. I'm scared to make sudden movements, but suddenly I look down and my shoestring is a fuse that is scooting faster and faster, a beautiful spark that runs and runs and runs, threatening to completely blow me to smithereens or to make an explosion so chaotic that I do a slow-motion twist in the air and finally hit the ground running.
I think that fuse runs in my stomach, too, in winding, constricting loops.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Thoughts on the 4th
I celebrated the fourth by putting strawberries and blueberries on my waffles.
Obviously, I'm nearly friend-less in Indy. I don't mean that in a mopey way, just that most of the people I DO know already had/have plans, and the people I would normally chill with on the 4th are 4+hours away.
It's actually kind of sad, I think. Maybe it isn't. But I feel so disconnected from this country right now. Politics are lightyears over my head, and I don't particularly care about them, either. I keep thinking about where I could be in a few months. If I go to Africa, there will be no fireworks at all hours of the night. There will be no fireworks at all. No grill-outs, no parties, no potlucks. I wouldn't have my Mom's famous Cherry delight with added blueberries to look like our flag. (It really is quite adorable.)
Today at church, there was a slideshow of THE Independence Day, and there were these famous quotes from one of those famous dudes, and, of course, it mentioned God and the glory of freedom, freedom from the oppression of a dominating, selfish country. Yet, if we're in such a free country, why do I feel oppressed and anxious to get out of it?
Mostly, it's self-oppression. I layer on the hurt of years (since I am SOOOO old and have SOOOO many years of pain.) I still let people affect me terribly, which tells me that my heart is just as tender as it was 10 years ago.
I remember the first time I ever heard of the Peace Corps. Coach Roberts, in freshman Biology, showed us slides of his PC service in South America and Africa. The one I remember the most is a picture of this beautiful black boy. The first picture was of his face, the second was of the top of his head where maggots were infested. Coach Roberts had to remove the maggots, taking away a little of the skin, if I recall. I remember feeling so GUILTY. So IGNORANT of how other children lived in faraway places. I remember that his eyes were whiter than the maggots, but dark in the center like his glossy black skin.
I'm not sure why I bring this up now. I guess because sometimes I need perspective, and it's amazing that something that happened 8 years ago brings me back to a humble perspective.
Because I may feel oppressed by people, by institutions, by rules. But I am 22 and I have clean hair (or will in 20 minutes,) my teeth are straight, I have access to feminine products, I can still taste Mom's famous Cherry Delight, and I can go to a church. I'm appreciative of that, and I know I should be thankful for it. But I my sight is zooming past the sparkle of the fireworks and the smell of the grill.
I have work to do.
Obviously, I'm nearly friend-less in Indy. I don't mean that in a mopey way, just that most of the people I DO know already had/have plans, and the people I would normally chill with on the 4th are 4+hours away.
It's actually kind of sad, I think. Maybe it isn't. But I feel so disconnected from this country right now. Politics are lightyears over my head, and I don't particularly care about them, either. I keep thinking about where I could be in a few months. If I go to Africa, there will be no fireworks at all hours of the night. There will be no fireworks at all. No grill-outs, no parties, no potlucks. I wouldn't have my Mom's famous Cherry delight with added blueberries to look like our flag. (It really is quite adorable.)
Today at church, there was a slideshow of THE Independence Day, and there were these famous quotes from one of those famous dudes, and, of course, it mentioned God and the glory of freedom, freedom from the oppression of a dominating, selfish country. Yet, if we're in such a free country, why do I feel oppressed and anxious to get out of it?
Mostly, it's self-oppression. I layer on the hurt of years (since I am SOOOO old and have SOOOO many years of pain.) I still let people affect me terribly, which tells me that my heart is just as tender as it was 10 years ago.
I remember the first time I ever heard of the Peace Corps. Coach Roberts, in freshman Biology, showed us slides of his PC service in South America and Africa. The one I remember the most is a picture of this beautiful black boy. The first picture was of his face, the second was of the top of his head where maggots were infested. Coach Roberts had to remove the maggots, taking away a little of the skin, if I recall. I remember feeling so GUILTY. So IGNORANT of how other children lived in faraway places. I remember that his eyes were whiter than the maggots, but dark in the center like his glossy black skin.
I'm not sure why I bring this up now. I guess because sometimes I need perspective, and it's amazing that something that happened 8 years ago brings me back to a humble perspective.
Because I may feel oppressed by people, by institutions, by rules. But I am 22 and I have clean hair (or will in 20 minutes,) my teeth are straight, I have access to feminine products, I can still taste Mom's famous Cherry Delight, and I can go to a church. I'm appreciative of that, and I know I should be thankful for it. But I my sight is zooming past the sparkle of the fireworks and the smell of the grill.
I have work to do.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Toilets
I went to the bathroom today and I SWEAR it took me 3 minutes to choose a stall. I tend to either go in the first or fourth...mainly because the first stall is the least frequented and the most clean(I read it somewhere once), and the fourth one is...I don't know. I just go to it the most.
ANYway, the first one smelled like poo. The second one had pee spots on the seat, the third one had a skid mark, and the fourth one had that sewery smell PLUS a large wad of toilet paper inside. I never go into the fifth (and largest) stall because I feel that since I'm not handicapped, I don't need all that extra space.
I went back to the first and noticed a twitch in my nose. Smell=gross. The second one was out. No, thanks, I'd rather not sit on someone else's piss.
Then, this line popped in my head.
"Bird's got a job, seed's got a job, shit's got a job."
Do you know this quote? It's from the outdoorsy lamb-lady in Cold Mountain who takes care of Jude Law's war wound and feeds him this goopy gun powder stuff to ease the pain and make him sleep. She's a cool Civil War hippie. I like her.
I stood between the third and fourth stalls thinking about this quote, thinking about the cyclical nature of...nature. I thought so hard about it that I cannot remember which stall I peed in.
To be honest, I'm not sure I've reached a conclusion. I'm not sure what I think about it. Bird's got a job, seed's got a job, shit's got a job.
I think I'm applying this to my spiritual life, and it sounds really strange to relate bodily waste to serving Christ or improving a lifestyle, but I really think there's something. We all have a job, we all have a talent, we all have a purpose to benefit life and to change the world.
I guess I just don't want to be the shit.
Maybe I can convert this to fertilizer. I'll think on it some more.
ANYway, the first one smelled like poo. The second one had pee spots on the seat, the third one had a skid mark, and the fourth one had that sewery smell PLUS a large wad of toilet paper inside. I never go into the fifth (and largest) stall because I feel that since I'm not handicapped, I don't need all that extra space.
I went back to the first and noticed a twitch in my nose. Smell=gross. The second one was out. No, thanks, I'd rather not sit on someone else's piss.
Then, this line popped in my head.
"Bird's got a job, seed's got a job, shit's got a job."
Do you know this quote? It's from the outdoorsy lamb-lady in Cold Mountain who takes care of Jude Law's war wound and feeds him this goopy gun powder stuff to ease the pain and make him sleep. She's a cool Civil War hippie. I like her.
I stood between the third and fourth stalls thinking about this quote, thinking about the cyclical nature of...nature. I thought so hard about it that I cannot remember which stall I peed in.
To be honest, I'm not sure I've reached a conclusion. I'm not sure what I think about it. Bird's got a job, seed's got a job, shit's got a job.
I think I'm applying this to my spiritual life, and it sounds really strange to relate bodily waste to serving Christ or improving a lifestyle, but I really think there's something. We all have a job, we all have a talent, we all have a purpose to benefit life and to change the world.
I guess I just don't want to be the shit.
Maybe I can convert this to fertilizer. I'll think on it some more.
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