I am sometimes so self-destructive. I force myself into situations I hate. I hang up on people I care about instead of verbally processing and resolving the issue. I say I don't mind when I mind very much. I torture myself with jealous fantasies.
Why? Do I it because I like it? Certainly not. Where does this habit of self- destructive behavior come from? Do I truly want to experience as much pain as possible? Am I trying to punish myself- or others?
The truth of the matter is that I often go 'to the phone instead of the phone'- instead of taking my petty and transient insecurities and worries to the Father I call friends. Boys. I think that they can fill my gaps. This is an utter falsity- the lie that another person, another messy and imperfect person and truly fulfill me and make me whole.
Whenever I take my problems to another person I will always be disappointed. Ultimately my fulfillment must come from He who loves and knows me better than anyone else ever could.
I know this lesson, yet consistently fail to apply it. We may read Exodus, Numbers, Judges and condemn the Israelites for making the same stupid mistakes over and over (WHY don't they just trust the Lord?! His power is so obvious!) - yet the same idiotic patterns are so easily discernible in our own lives. I know my faith would deepen to exponentially if I simply chose not to repeat my mistakes; yet as mistakes I will always make perhaps I shall to resolve to err only in new and interesting ways.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
Boredom.
It's amazing that, even in summer, the time of year most heavily anticipated, I can be bored.
I mean, really, what is my problem? I mean, sure I'm a dyslexic control freak with an alphabetized bookshelf, a closet full of clothing sorted by color, and vacuum lines under my bed, but what is it that enables me to find boredom on a beautiful summer day?
Is it my undeniable need to have a to do list at all times coupled with a sloth like demeanor that prevents me from actually accomplishing anything? Does my lack of wild and crazy mates perhaps hold me back from summertime bliss? Perhaps my failure to initiate successful relationships is the true cause of lethargic woe.
Because if I had a thick, tight circle of girlfriends as I used to, I bet I wouldn't be blogging right now.
What's really amazing is how my friendships changed when I started high school. The upperclassmen I hung around with all said that it was normal, that relationships change freshman year, that things get better, you find your niche.
Well, here I am, less than a month away from the first day of my long-dreaded junior year and I am completely niche-less. I have friends, I suppose. Just none that are my age and female, the winning combo that seems so essential.
(By the way, I am fully aware how whiney these musings are.)
It's really not like I haven't initiated. Maybe not with the right people, maybe not at the right time. But I have. And I'm somehow coming to the conclusion that when God wants it to happen it will. My mom says that certain seasons of life are meant to be lonelier than others and that I should see this as an opportunity to become more intimate with my Lord.
I guess that's the part the kills me. I really haven't. I haven't just embraced my circumstance and sat at the feet of the Father. I will never comprehend his undying faithfulness even as I am so unfaithful, time after time. (This is not what I meant to write about, but I'll go with it) I blow him off, He who loves me more than anyone else ever could, and for least amount of reason. That really blows me away every time I slow down enough to look outside of myself for about ten seconds. The Creator, God of the universe has loved me wholeheartedly, has sacrificed Himself for me just so He could know me. Me! Scum of Earth. The older I get, the less I understand about God. Maybe that's the way it's supposed to work. That as I bloat myself with knowledge I need to realize that about the most significant entity in the enitre cosmos I know next to nothing.
It's something worth considering.
I mean, really, what is my problem? I mean, sure I'm a dyslexic control freak with an alphabetized bookshelf, a closet full of clothing sorted by color, and vacuum lines under my bed, but what is it that enables me to find boredom on a beautiful summer day?
Is it my undeniable need to have a to do list at all times coupled with a sloth like demeanor that prevents me from actually accomplishing anything? Does my lack of wild and crazy mates perhaps hold me back from summertime bliss? Perhaps my failure to initiate successful relationships is the true cause of lethargic woe.
Because if I had a thick, tight circle of girlfriends as I used to, I bet I wouldn't be blogging right now.
What's really amazing is how my friendships changed when I started high school. The upperclassmen I hung around with all said that it was normal, that relationships change freshman year, that things get better, you find your niche.
Well, here I am, less than a month away from the first day of my long-dreaded junior year and I am completely niche-less. I have friends, I suppose. Just none that are my age and female, the winning combo that seems so essential.
(By the way, I am fully aware how whiney these musings are.)
It's really not like I haven't initiated. Maybe not with the right people, maybe not at the right time. But I have. And I'm somehow coming to the conclusion that when God wants it to happen it will. My mom says that certain seasons of life are meant to be lonelier than others and that I should see this as an opportunity to become more intimate with my Lord.
I guess that's the part the kills me. I really haven't. I haven't just embraced my circumstance and sat at the feet of the Father. I will never comprehend his undying faithfulness even as I am so unfaithful, time after time. (This is not what I meant to write about, but I'll go with it) I blow him off, He who loves me more than anyone else ever could, and for least amount of reason. That really blows me away every time I slow down enough to look outside of myself for about ten seconds. The Creator, God of the universe has loved me wholeheartedly, has sacrificed Himself for me just so He could know me. Me! Scum of Earth. The older I get, the less I understand about God. Maybe that's the way it's supposed to work. That as I bloat myself with knowledge I need to realize that about the most significant entity in the enitre cosmos I know next to nothing.
It's something worth considering.
Monday, July 2, 2007
High School Never Ends
Summer is a time to relax, to sunbathe, to bike, to detox, to forget the stress of the last semester...
But how is one to accomplish this highly-anticipated state of relaxation Nirvana when weighted down with reminders like transcripts, AP scores, and summer reading? For example, I am currently cruising the collegeboard website searching for their telephone number so that I can call and get my AP World History score. Yesterday I received my transcript in the mail. Why my high school thinks I want a record of every grade (and SAT, PSAT, and ISTEP score) I've ever earned in every high school and college level class I've taken since I was thirteen sent to me during my blissful summer months, I haven't any idea.
I need to complete my summer reading chart. Go on the Moodle website and post some delightfully witty/ insightful comments about aforementioned summer reading.
I will spend free time in Europe reading for ACP US History.
High school never ends. There is no reprieve; no rest for the wicked, the driven, the grade whores.
But how is one to accomplish this highly-anticipated state of relaxation Nirvana when weighted down with reminders like transcripts, AP scores, and summer reading? For example, I am currently cruising the collegeboard website searching for their telephone number so that I can call and get my AP World History score. Yesterday I received my transcript in the mail. Why my high school thinks I want a record of every grade (and SAT, PSAT, and ISTEP score) I've ever earned in every high school and college level class I've taken since I was thirteen sent to me during my blissful summer months, I haven't any idea.
I need to complete my summer reading chart. Go on the Moodle website and post some delightfully witty/ insightful comments about aforementioned summer reading.
I will spend free time in Europe reading for ACP US History.
High school never ends. There is no reprieve; no rest for the wicked, the driven, the grade whores.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Hot Tea
This soggy and gray Sunday brought another lesson in humility and God's delightful interference: in my haste to enjoy the spicy delight Chai offers, I burned my tongue on the hot (some would say viciously scalding) tea. Unfortunately, as I had made the tea myself, I had no one to sue for not warning me that my hot beverage was hot.
My impatience often seems to result in small injuries and minor maladies. Beyond the searing pain in my mouth and esophagus, the red-faced choking that ensued caused the cool self-absorbed Starbucks-sipping scoffers around me to raise their eyebrows with disdain. Perhaps a few wondered what other simple bodily functions I struggle to carry out on a day-to-day basis.
Even the most sardonic muser would be surprised.
Most of the beating my body has taken has been a result of my own idiocy; while I managed to acquire only minor injuries during the five years I played soccer, simple tacks such a descending staircases have produced more serious afflictions.
For example, when my drawing teacher introduced linoleum printing I felt the familiar sinking feeling of dread. Zinc prints I'd conquered: my plastic prints were passable. These two projects had require only large needles; conversely, cutting out linoleum calls for very sharp curved blades. My instructor announced that anyone who cut themselves significantly twice would be declared a danger to himself and others and banned from the project. Ideal, just what I need: to be forced to turn in an unfinished piece when my grade is already slipping. Lately my dear teacher and I had failed to see eye-to-eye on trifling issues such as layout and content.
To my credit, I did manage to get through two rounds of prints sans significant bleeding. This changed during finals. I had a little over four hours to finish two to three more cuts and my AP World History exam weighing on my mind. I was also having difficulty remembering the most basic of polyatomic ions (Did sulfate have a plus two charge or was that was sulfite? No, they're both negative, like carbonate...will this even be on the final? It wasn't, by the way)
With one pressure and another, it's really not so surprising that I managed to gash myself twice within half and hour, earning myself two trips to the nurse, endless sniggers of my classmates, and the rare privilege of wiping my own blood off of the surrounding desk and floor. Let's not mention the bulky bandage that impeded my scholastic pursuits for several days.
All in all, I've decided that God has an innate knack for using my own clumsiness to bring attention to my sin: perhaps I was thinking a little too well of myself prior to the tea spluttering incident- and isn't worrying about my studies a sin? The burns on my tongue and lips knocked me down off my high horse and my finger injury forced my to cut back my study hours a little. Having an out to not finish the printing project turned out to be a blessing- and I still received and A in the class.
My impatience often seems to result in small injuries and minor maladies. Beyond the searing pain in my mouth and esophagus, the red-faced choking that ensued caused the cool self-absorbed Starbucks-sipping scoffers around me to raise their eyebrows with disdain. Perhaps a few wondered what other simple bodily functions I struggle to carry out on a day-to-day basis.
Even the most sardonic muser would be surprised.
Most of the beating my body has taken has been a result of my own idiocy; while I managed to acquire only minor injuries during the five years I played soccer, simple tacks such a descending staircases have produced more serious afflictions.
For example, when my drawing teacher introduced linoleum printing I felt the familiar sinking feeling of dread. Zinc prints I'd conquered: my plastic prints were passable. These two projects had require only large needles; conversely, cutting out linoleum calls for very sharp curved blades. My instructor announced that anyone who cut themselves significantly twice would be declared a danger to himself and others and banned from the project. Ideal, just what I need: to be forced to turn in an unfinished piece when my grade is already slipping. Lately my dear teacher and I had failed to see eye-to-eye on trifling issues such as layout and content.
To my credit, I did manage to get through two rounds of prints sans significant bleeding. This changed during finals. I had a little over four hours to finish two to three more cuts and my AP World History exam weighing on my mind. I was also having difficulty remembering the most basic of polyatomic ions (Did sulfate have a plus two charge or was that was sulfite? No, they're both negative, like carbonate...will this even be on the final? It wasn't, by the way)
With one pressure and another, it's really not so surprising that I managed to gash myself twice within half and hour, earning myself two trips to the nurse, endless sniggers of my classmates, and the rare privilege of wiping my own blood off of the surrounding desk and floor. Let's not mention the bulky bandage that impeded my scholastic pursuits for several days.
All in all, I've decided that God has an innate knack for using my own clumsiness to bring attention to my sin: perhaps I was thinking a little too well of myself prior to the tea spluttering incident- and isn't worrying about my studies a sin? The burns on my tongue and lips knocked me down off my high horse and my finger injury forced my to cut back my study hours a little. Having an out to not finish the printing project turned out to be a blessing- and I still received and A in the class.
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