At one point in time the most popular question people asked of me was something along the lines of, "What are you doing after you graduate?"
I'd pause for a moment to mull over my word choice and lamely reply, "Actually...I haven't quite gotten that figured out yet..." after which the conversation might putter to an awkwardly abrupt halt.
These days it's become a more easily answered, "Where have you been?"
In response I would have to reply with a boring, "I've just been at home..."
Slightly puzzled as to why I might restrict myself to the confines of my humble college abode, some clarification might be sought after.
"Irvine home, or Home home?" she asks, as if there should be something more appealing at the thought of being back at "Home home".
Perhaps the questioner was looking for an explanation of sorts--"I've been back at home home because..."
But to her disappointment, I would simply state, "Both." And the already feeble movement of the conversation would do little more than twitch to a halt with a last, "Oh, I see..."
Another set of questions I've noticed is, "How have you been? Were you sick?'
Hm. Those are two very good questions; not to say that the others are particularly lacking. If I were to answer these questions honestly, I would definitely have to explain myself a little bit. My response might be something like, "You know, for a while I didn't know how I was doing. Somehow I wasn't really sure. Now I know with certainty that to say I haven't been doing well is a bit of an understatement. As for the second question, I guess you can say that I was sick--but not your typical runny nose and sneezing sick. Whatever the case, it's safe to say that I've been unwell in more ways than one."
Her curiosity piqued by the vagueness so evident in my response, she asks, "What do you mean when say you've been 'unwell in more ways than one?"
I go on and explain, "Well...I mean, there was a period of a couple of weeks when I had a few odd symptoms that would come and go. Sometimes I'd just sit in my room in silence--one of the symptoms was hypersensitive hearing, and at times even the sound of my own voice was painful to hear. And then I guess there's that emotional aspect too. I recognized within myself something reminiscent of the panicked desperation that most individuals only experience as young children in a department store. The sensation was not unlike the cold wave of fear that comes with the realization that while you were exploring the depths of a circular clothing rack, you've been left behind and your guardian is nowhere in sight."
"Hm..." The questioner mentally turns the situation over in her mind in an attempt to get a firmer grasp on my meaning. "Then it's like...you feel that near-hysterical sense of heart pounding adrenaline pumping through your veins?"
Amused at the effort, I reply, "Not quite. Reminiscent of that...it's more like you want to go look for the familiar belt loops of your guardian's blue denim jeans, but you're not sure exactly where to go. So you glance around what you can see of the store, but all you see is a pair of black jeans standing at the next rack over. It's kind of like a panic muted with an attempt at staying rational. But then you have that sense of abandoned hysteria ready to overwhelm your senses once you succumb to defeat."
Now the illustration doesn't even really make sense anymore. What kind of kid would try to stay calm when they fear that they've been abandoned? The real response would be that the kid would start bawling with panic, heedless of who it is that might pick them up. Regardless of what the reality may be, the questioner nods thoughtfully and asks, "Alrite...so you have this sensation that you're desperately in need of those blue jeans, but you're doing your best not to go nuts. Now what?"
Satisfied with her interpretation, I continue, "There's a decision to be made--do you wail and scream until anybody comes and finds you, in hopes that they can reunite you with the blue jeans? Or do you stay around the rack and watch for them, believing that they'll come back to find you? And then there's the option of braving the vast multitudes of clothing racks and finding the blue jeans yourself. None of these options is really a surefire way to rid yourself of this awful feeling, and there's always that fear of just worsening your situation to no avail."
At this point the other person realizes I'm just nuts, but she's been assigned to me; she can't just walk away and leave me by myself to wallow in my insanity. So regardless of my questionable mental health stability and slightly amused at where this whole illustration is going, she questions, "So? Which is it? What did you decide to do?"
I smile and answer, "None of the above."
Ever so slightly flabbergasted at the ridiculousness of this entire conversation and illustration, she exclaims, "How is that even possible? What'd you do? Ignore it all and just sleep?"
Amused at this fourth choice she introduced, I tell her, "Actually, I did precisely that! I figured that the decision could be made later and that I could sleep it off for at least a little bit. But remember that abandoned hysteria?" She nods, and I continue, "Well. That definitely makes for a restless sleep. I woke up panicking when I tried that. So just ignoring it and trying to sleep was definitely not a good option."
This time there is no verbal reply, but the pinched corners of her mouth speak volumes; she's more than ready for me to conclude.
Eager to share how this situation was resolved, I explained, "In the end I didn't really know what to do. I don't think I was desperate enough to wail and draw unwanted attention to myself, but I wasn't quite sure I wanted to go and find those darn blue jeans myself. So in a sense, I stayed in a state of pseudo-indecision and hoped that I would see those blue jeans making their way back toward me. But that never happened..."
The impatience that had been tugging at the corners of her mouth soften and travel to raise her eyebrow quizzically.
I can't help but smile at this point. "You see, the blue jeans never showed up, but the black ones standing at the next rack over, the ones that I had been seeing from the beginning...well. Thinking back on it now, I realize I saw them approaching me in my peripheral vision. But I was so busy looking out for the blue jeans that I didn't even notice that the black jeans were right next to me until they squatted to get down to my eye level. And then an overwhelming sense of relief washed over me as I realized how foolish I had been. Even though I thought I was keeping my panic to a minimum with my rationality, it wasn't quite enough. In my confusion I had forgotten that the blue jeans weren't the only ones I'd come with; blue jeans, black jeans and I were all part of the same group. This whole time I'd been waiting for the blue jeans to come find me when all along the black jeans were keeping their eyes on me."
I'm finally done talking, and in my mind the illustration is complete. And I smile dumbly by myself, amused at how such a foolish mistake caused me so much grief.
The silence remains unbroken for several more awkward seconds, but I am oblivious to it; I'm just glad I have my black jeans.
Miss questioner clears her throat, and it's clear that she's reluctant to ask me any more questions. But she has to make sure I'm at least somewhat okay, despite my obvious mental instability. "So...does that mean you're doing well now?"
She studies my face carefully as I consider how things are right now; she's probably fearful of the next illustration I might share with her. I look her straight in the eye and I can see her tense up when I answer, "No...no, I can't say that I'm doing well. For one thing, I haven't slept in a while. I think I woke up at around 9am on Friday...which means I've been up for about 27.5 hours. If you haven't already noticed, I'm pretty ridiculously delusional. Haha..but in all seriousness, my answer remains the same. I'm not well, but I'll get there eventually. Black jeans are great, but God is better."
Relieved at such a simple, relatively straightforward answer, she smiles and says, "That's good, I'm glad. Well, I have to get going now...this ridiculously nonsensical story is ending and my existence is solely dependent on this blog entry alone."
I check the time on my iPod and grimace. "Ah, I know. You should have left a long time ago--I can't believe it's already 12:30pm...hm. I should probably get going too--I haven't eaten anything since I had dinner with Garnet last night at Thai Spice. Oh...and I should definitely go work on that research proposal...and slideshow. Goodness gracious me. Where did all the time run away to?" I look up from my iPod, only to see that I am left alone in my thoughts.
"I can't believe I stood here rambling on and on and on about a kid staring at black and blue jeans. I'm definitely going crazy...so much so that I don't even want to publish this post! But...what can you do? Chances are, no one's going to read this far anyway. And if they do?
...I'm so sorry."
5.15.2009
because I'm in bed but the flow never stops
Jessica's alarm went off; she should be getting out of bed soon.
I'm hoping to get to the OFAS by 8.
I ate some cheesecake when I shouldn't have. I don't know why...bc it was there, I guess. Then again, all I'd eaten all day was half an Islands burger and half a Luna bar. I actually don't remember much of what happened last night. I mean. Tonight. All is vague. Apparently the guys were playing smash. I didn't notice or hear. Ppl came and went. I don't know if I greeted them. If I ignored you earlier tonight, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to. I talked to people online, I think. I know I had a box open with g but I accidentally signed off ok her. I'm pretty sure I texted her...
Jess isn't out of bed yet. I hope she isn't late. I hope I wake up at seven.
Good night. Or morning.
I'm hoping to get to the OFAS by 8.
I ate some cheesecake when I shouldn't have. I don't know why...bc it was there, I guess. Then again, all I'd eaten all day was half an Islands burger and half a Luna bar. I actually don't remember much of what happened last night. I mean. Tonight. All is vague. Apparently the guys were playing smash. I didn't notice or hear. Ppl came and went. I don't know if I greeted them. If I ignored you earlier tonight, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to. I talked to people online, I think. I know I had a box open with g but I accidentally signed off ok her. I'm pretty sure I texted her...
Jess isn't out of bed yet. I hope she isn't late. I hope I wake up at seven.
Good night. Or morning.
because nothing ever goes according to plan
I went to the meeting. I'm still here. First here, last out.
Going home now. Grateful for ppl like CK.
Proposal still unfinished.
Going home now. Grateful for ppl like CK.
Proposal still unfinished.
5.14.2009
because I am paralyzed by my thoughts.
Where do I begin?
My professor stopped lecturing at around 6:00 and dismissed us about twenty minutes early. He left our midterms in a pile on a desk for us to dig through if we wanted them back. As I walked out of Steinhaus Hall, I flipped my blue exam booklet open and read through the comments my professor jotted down in the margins. I found my grade scribbled onto the inside of the front cover, and as I stared in disbelief I saw myself desperately scrambling after my GPA boosting quarter as the wind blew it out of my grasp into oblivion.
I texted my friend about it as I sank onto a bench in front of Zot-n-Go, and she suggested that I petition to change my grade option so I wouldn't have to worry. She'd succeeded in petitioning two years ago, but she'd also been sick and delusional with a fever that peaked at 106 degrees for a good chunk of the quarter. I entertained the thought of petitioning for a moment but it was swept away as the deluge of my thoughts burst through my mental floodgates and relentlessly swirled and pounded its way through every crack and crevice of my consciousness. I don't know how much time passed before I finally found myself at this computer in the Student Center computer lab. And now I'm sitting here chewing on a Chocolate Raspberry Luna Bar, puzzling over how to rid myself of this paralysis.
I've channeled my thoughts into some sort of journal on and off for the past 15 or so years and have come to find great satisfaction in pouring out my pent up everything with pen in hand and blank pages to fill. But my current journal is being neglected, untouched and unfilled as it sits in the darkness of my trunk. I write too frustratingly slowly.
The reason I'm sitting here in the student center computer lab is because I need to be writing up a research proposal. But I started typing into this text box because somehow I believed that doing so would help me clear my mind and focus better. Unfortunately, I can't seem to remember exactly what it was that I wanted to type here. I think it might have gone something like this--
Friends, it's almost over. Soon I will be forever finished with Political Science classes. Soon I will bid useless Anthropology classes "Adieu!" Soon these hours spent wasted away in the cool dimness of a university classroom will fade into the recesses of my mind. Soon Mimi will call me and I'll have to go back to my apartment. I should get started on that proposal.
...I'm surprised that my body only shut down for a week.
My professor stopped lecturing at around 6:00 and dismissed us about twenty minutes early. He left our midterms in a pile on a desk for us to dig through if we wanted them back. As I walked out of Steinhaus Hall, I flipped my blue exam booklet open and read through the comments my professor jotted down in the margins. I found my grade scribbled onto the inside of the front cover, and as I stared in disbelief I saw myself desperately scrambling after my GPA boosting quarter as the wind blew it out of my grasp into oblivion.
I texted my friend about it as I sank onto a bench in front of Zot-n-Go, and she suggested that I petition to change my grade option so I wouldn't have to worry. She'd succeeded in petitioning two years ago, but she'd also been sick and delusional with a fever that peaked at 106 degrees for a good chunk of the quarter. I entertained the thought of petitioning for a moment but it was swept away as the deluge of my thoughts burst through my mental floodgates and relentlessly swirled and pounded its way through every crack and crevice of my consciousness. I don't know how much time passed before I finally found myself at this computer in the Student Center computer lab. And now I'm sitting here chewing on a Chocolate Raspberry Luna Bar, puzzling over how to rid myself of this paralysis.
I've channeled my thoughts into some sort of journal on and off for the past 15 or so years and have come to find great satisfaction in pouring out my pent up everything with pen in hand and blank pages to fill. But my current journal is being neglected, untouched and unfilled as it sits in the darkness of my trunk. I write too frustratingly slowly.
The reason I'm sitting here in the student center computer lab is because I need to be writing up a research proposal. But I started typing into this text box because somehow I believed that doing so would help me clear my mind and focus better. Unfortunately, I can't seem to remember exactly what it was that I wanted to type here. I think it might have gone something like this--
I sat at that bench and stared blankly at my iPod; passersby probably thought I was simply zoned out if they took notice of me at all. But that blankness was a manifestation of the stunning blow of my mental chaos. I let the thoughts wash over and consume me. "Can I petition? The latest I can do it is next week. What have I to lose? The worst that can happen is that they'll deny me. I probably wouldn't succeed anyway...my GPA definitely isn't--will I have to explain myself? Mister Potential Employer, I just wanted to say that despite what the cold, hard facts may be, you will definitely not regret hiring me. But what kind of job...graphic design? I should have switched majors when I first--it's too late, though. My ceremony is in about a month...plan a get together? I don't really care though. I have to call Big Mom and Big Dad...or call Dad to do it." I walked through the aisles of Zot-n-Go. "Graduation party...with Sophia? She mentioned networking perks...networking. I definitely need to work on that. I obviously can't fall back on my--yogurt? Yoplait? Blueberry...pass. I need more vegetables and fruits. Fruit cup...with melons. Pass. I wonder when Michelle's graduation is? I know I should talk to the Big Parents but that means I might not have a ticket for her. Luna bars...I can never remember which one PK had in China. Chocolate raspberry sounds good. Lindeman's Framboise...oy. I have dinner in Irvine on Saturday. I'll stop by home for a little bit on Friday night or something. Oh...that's if I finish the slideshow. I need to get pictures from Jac--should I just get a salad? House salad...no chicken. That's good. I don't want meat right now...but I need protein to sustain me. My cuticles are dry. But I've been sleeping and drinking water. Maybe it's some other health issue...Chocolate Raspberry Luna bar...190 calories, 9g protein...Berry Almond Luna Bar? 180 calories, 9g protein. Chocolate raspberry sounds better...where did these people come from? Hot Cheeto fries...the girl working behind the counter sounds like Silvia. Is it her? I haven't seen her in a long while. It's not her. She must be tired...greeting people, scanning their items, giving them their change...rinse and repeat. 1.79...I thought it was 1.99. Only have a 5...girl washing the window--how do I--there's a guy walking in...walk toward the counter to put my money in my wallet to avoid awkwardness...ah~sorry girl cleaning the window...didn't think that opening this door meant making yours bounce. Oop...there goes a dime. Oh well. Ignore the guys...they can keep the chan--why is it so cold...I can't believe I blew it with classes this quarter. How should I do my hair for banquet? I want to post it on Twitter or Facebook. Maybe blog it. But that's so stupid...such a vain, unimportant question. Banquet. I need to do that slideshow--but research proposal! Why hasn't Chavira gotten back to me? He's not one to ignore--has he changed that much in these past two years? I should drop by office hours. Maybe use him as a refere--shoot. I always forget to email Dr. Cool. Email Dr. Cool, thank her. Use as reference. references...gotta get on Zotlink. No ID card; hope it's not required at the lab. I need to find it. CK mentioned Disneyland. I hope she meant Fri the 22nd...tomorrow is no good. I can't wait 'til tomorrow. I want to swim. I should read while I'm there. Thin book? Christian book? Thought we were going to the beach. Guess not. Don't mind...beach is far. And sandy. As numerous as the grains of sand on the beach. Should pray. Should email. Gotta read. Bible study? Crap. Not tomorrow. Slideshow. Proposal. Proposal. Proposal. Dang it. I wish I followed my work schedule strictly. Maybe I could have used my timesheets to back my petition...I can't go to the meeting tonight. Even if I finish I don't know if I can handle it. Can I handle a group again? Freak. How am I going to survive banquet. My shoulders are tingly. Definitely stress induced. Maybe Chavira thinks I'm lying. People know, though. People do. Exam Thursday. Don't know what's going on. Facebook Marvin? E mail him. Text him? Hope he texts. I don't think I'm as lost as I feel. Should start reading up on stuff on Monday. I'll go back to Irvine after banquet. Disneyland Monday? I wonder if CK forgot. Then study Monday. Or work. Or swim. I don't want skin cancer. Oh snap--blood tests! Past 5. Health center's closed--gotta call tomorrow. Physical? Do I want one? Maybe when I'm done witht he pills. Oh...gotta eat fruit. Asian pear at home. This Luna bar isn't very good. 8-pages...2 years ago I did it in 3 hours. And he gave me a B. But history never repeats itself? Dang. Why am I even typing this right now. I. Need. To. Stop."
Friends, it's almost over. Soon I will be forever finished with Political Science classes. Soon I will bid useless Anthropology classes "Adieu!" Soon these hours spent wasted away in the cool dimness of a university classroom will fade into the recesses of my mind. Soon Mimi will call me and I'll have to go back to my apartment. I should get started on that proposal.
...I'm surprised that my body only shut down for a week.
because i haven't changed much.
I've always known that I can be hot headed and as Esther E. Park would say, intense.
What I didn't know was how much that might affect the way people view me and consequently, how they choose to approach me, treat me, and interact with me. And that's IF they even choose to talk to me at all--for all I know, I might just be scaring people away.
And I don't blame them.
By the time my junior high days came to an end, I was known by my circle of friends to have painfully stinging slaps. In early high school, I was one of those girls who always hit the guys...and not to flirt, but to hurt. Nearly seven years later, I know that I rarely physically assault anyone with my blows (unless they do something stupid like poke me--but that's an entirely different issue in itself...). But apparently, my temper is just about the same. And I can't help but wonder what my friends would say about me...
Let's say, hypothetically, that there's a guy who foolishly thinks he might want to get to know me and asks a mutual friend about me. What would (s)he say? "She can be nice, but her mood is pretty volatile. I'm sure you'll find her to be sociable and that you guys will get along--just make sure not to make her mad." And this response, of course, not out of malice but out of simple honesty and concern for the poor guy's well being. Or perhaps a potential employer is looking up my references and getting in touch with people who have known me. "Christina? Oh, I'm sure she'll be a great addition to your office. But...don't be surprised if she gets upset with you or a coworker/client out of nowhere. Just a heads up..." Again, a response not of malice but for the sake of that employer's sanity.
Of course, I don't know that that's how I am perceived by my friends. I don't know that people see me as a time bomb that might explode at any second. But I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.
People, friends, readers--I know that I am hot headed and that I am emotional. I know that I can get upset too easily and that sometimes my frustration seems to be unfounded. If that's the case, then call me out on it. Though I may be emotionally driven at times, I do my best to be reasonable all the time. If I am in the wrong, please correct me. I'll be honest--correction and rebuke hurts. But it's a good kind of hurt--like after a really rigorous work out. When you wake up sore the next morning because you had a really good work out, it feels good. When you lift your finger to turn off your alarm and you find that it hurts even to do that, it's oddly (and perhaps somewhat masochistically) pleasing. You know that that soreness is just what comes with your training your body. Now, if I need some correcting and I hear it from someone who heard it from someone who heard it from someone who heard it from you, that'll hurt in a different way. That would be like waking up sore because you have a bad mattress. That kind of soreness just sucks...it drags you down with every step you take, and it just makes you feel like poo. The only good that comes out of that kind of pain is that you might finally get a new mattress. Of course, even after reading this, if you're afraid to confront me about something and you ask someone like an older sister to talk to me about that particular issue, that's fine. Obviously it's best if you talk to me directly--but talking to someone to have them talk to me is different from talking to someone who I might squeeze the information out of because of my own inquiries...that's definitely asking for bad-mattress pain.
Earlier tonight I started typing out a blog entry about how I've met and built or started building relationships with so many different people in my life...only to stop talking to them years, months, and even weeks later. Initially my intent in writing about those individuals was to explore and wonder at why God wills us to meet the people we do, and why He allows our friendships to fade. I was wondering how that ultimately glorifies Him, and how it's played out in my faith. But now I'm wondering how many of those people were driven away by my sin, and whether what glorifies God in these situations is that I'm bludgeoned with a reminder to love, live, and act like Christ did, so as to act a as a living testament of how Christ can miraculously change a piercingly prickly porcupine into a gentle deer.
There are a few people I know I have driven away or have been driven away by--like my roommate my freshman year. We were close, we fought, we stopped talking. But more commonly the trend has been that people who I once held close to me eventually simply drifted away. Or so I thought...I can't help but wonder--how many of those people let themselves drift away because of how unpleasant I am/can be? How many of those just got fed up and finally gave up? How many of those only stayed around because they were afraid to upset me by leaving me, only to end up losing touch with me anyway? How many people have I scared away? Or maybe my current friends--how many people keep their distance because they don't want to get too close to and burned by my fiery temper? How many people choose to ignore me, choose to never initiate conversations with me, choose to get in touch with me "next time," because I'll probably end up getting upset anyway? Or worse--how many people don't even realize they do this? How many people who know me, when asked about me, simply respond that "that's just the way she is--you'll get used to it."? How many people will never know that there's something that lies deeper than my stupidity?
Whenever I let my fuse run short with my mom, she used to say that with my temper and negative persona, I'd end up with no friends. Words harshly phrased as a result of anger, of course, but scathingly true regardless. Truly, I appreciate that my parents haven't given up on correcting their immature, nearly 22 (and 23 in Korea) year old daughter. The day they give up is the day that I know I really have no hope.
Sigh. I've much to consider. Sometimes I wish I could bare my soul and heart to expose how desperately I want to be more like Christ and how I want to be pliably teachable...even though I know that baring that would mean also baring my most heavily veiled sins.
Father, I hope that it is part of your will that my seemingly infinite rough edges and sharp ends will be worn down, no matter how painful it is. And this not for the sake of pleasing man and making my personality more appealing, but for the sake of not driving people away from YOU because of the ridiculousness that is my sin. Break me...there is none like You. There is none but You. I have no one but You. Let it be that man fails me, that man brutalizes me...abandons me--if all works out for the sake of your glory. Thank you for not giving up on me-thank you for not letting me ignorantly wade through the muck of my sin. Thank you...
...
I was supposed to go to bed over 2.5 hours ago...
What I didn't know was how much that might affect the way people view me and consequently, how they choose to approach me, treat me, and interact with me. And that's IF they even choose to talk to me at all--for all I know, I might just be scaring people away.
And I don't blame them.
By the time my junior high days came to an end, I was known by my circle of friends to have painfully stinging slaps. In early high school, I was one of those girls who always hit the guys...and not to flirt, but to hurt. Nearly seven years later, I know that I rarely physically assault anyone with my blows (unless they do something stupid like poke me--but that's an entirely different issue in itself...). But apparently, my temper is just about the same. And I can't help but wonder what my friends would say about me...
Let's say, hypothetically, that there's a guy who foolishly thinks he might want to get to know me and asks a mutual friend about me. What would (s)he say? "She can be nice, but her mood is pretty volatile. I'm sure you'll find her to be sociable and that you guys will get along--just make sure not to make her mad." And this response, of course, not out of malice but out of simple honesty and concern for the poor guy's well being. Or perhaps a potential employer is looking up my references and getting in touch with people who have known me. "Christina? Oh, I'm sure she'll be a great addition to your office. But...don't be surprised if she gets upset with you or a coworker/client out of nowhere. Just a heads up..." Again, a response not of malice but for the sake of that employer's sanity.
Of course, I don't know that that's how I am perceived by my friends. I don't know that people see me as a time bomb that might explode at any second. But I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.
People, friends, readers--I know that I am hot headed and that I am emotional. I know that I can get upset too easily and that sometimes my frustration seems to be unfounded. If that's the case, then call me out on it. Though I may be emotionally driven at times, I do my best to be reasonable all the time. If I am in the wrong, please correct me. I'll be honest--correction and rebuke hurts. But it's a good kind of hurt--like after a really rigorous work out. When you wake up sore the next morning because you had a really good work out, it feels good. When you lift your finger to turn off your alarm and you find that it hurts even to do that, it's oddly (and perhaps somewhat masochistically) pleasing. You know that that soreness is just what comes with your training your body. Now, if I need some correcting and I hear it from someone who heard it from someone who heard it from someone who heard it from you, that'll hurt in a different way. That would be like waking up sore because you have a bad mattress. That kind of soreness just sucks...it drags you down with every step you take, and it just makes you feel like poo. The only good that comes out of that kind of pain is that you might finally get a new mattress. Of course, even after reading this, if you're afraid to confront me about something and you ask someone like an older sister to talk to me about that particular issue, that's fine. Obviously it's best if you talk to me directly--but talking to someone to have them talk to me is different from talking to someone who I might squeeze the information out of because of my own inquiries...that's definitely asking for bad-mattress pain.
Earlier tonight I started typing out a blog entry about how I've met and built or started building relationships with so many different people in my life...only to stop talking to them years, months, and even weeks later. Initially my intent in writing about those individuals was to explore and wonder at why God wills us to meet the people we do, and why He allows our friendships to fade. I was wondering how that ultimately glorifies Him, and how it's played out in my faith. But now I'm wondering how many of those people were driven away by my sin, and whether what glorifies God in these situations is that I'm bludgeoned with a reminder to love, live, and act like Christ did, so as to act a as a living testament of how Christ can miraculously change a piercingly prickly porcupine into a gentle deer.
There are a few people I know I have driven away or have been driven away by--like my roommate my freshman year. We were close, we fought, we stopped talking. But more commonly the trend has been that people who I once held close to me eventually simply drifted away. Or so I thought...I can't help but wonder--how many of those people let themselves drift away because of how unpleasant I am/can be? How many of those just got fed up and finally gave up? How many of those only stayed around because they were afraid to upset me by leaving me, only to end up losing touch with me anyway? How many people have I scared away? Or maybe my current friends--how many people keep their distance because they don't want to get too close to and burned by my fiery temper? How many people choose to ignore me, choose to never initiate conversations with me, choose to get in touch with me "next time," because I'll probably end up getting upset anyway? Or worse--how many people don't even realize they do this? How many people who know me, when asked about me, simply respond that "that's just the way she is--you'll get used to it."? How many people will never know that there's something that lies deeper than my stupidity?
Whenever I let my fuse run short with my mom, she used to say that with my temper and negative persona, I'd end up with no friends. Words harshly phrased as a result of anger, of course, but scathingly true regardless. Truly, I appreciate that my parents haven't given up on correcting their immature, nearly 22 (and 23 in Korea) year old daughter. The day they give up is the day that I know I really have no hope.
Sigh. I've much to consider. Sometimes I wish I could bare my soul and heart to expose how desperately I want to be more like Christ and how I want to be pliably teachable...even though I know that baring that would mean also baring my most heavily veiled sins.
Father, I hope that it is part of your will that my seemingly infinite rough edges and sharp ends will be worn down, no matter how painful it is. And this not for the sake of pleasing man and making my personality more appealing, but for the sake of not driving people away from YOU because of the ridiculousness that is my sin. Break me...there is none like You. There is none but You. I have no one but You. Let it be that man fails me, that man brutalizes me...abandons me--if all works out for the sake of your glory. Thank you for not giving up on me-thank you for not letting me ignorantly wade through the muck of my sin. Thank you...
...
I was supposed to go to bed over 2.5 hours ago...
5.12.2009
because i am a living, breathing fail blog
Earlier tonight I reheated some chicken in the microwave for dinner. I made sure to cover the plate with plastic wrap to keep the chicken from splattering all over the inside of the microwave--that's such a hassle to clean. When it was done, I opened the door, took the chicken out, took the plastic wrap off and turned to throw it away. And then I full on head butted the microwave door.....for the second time this week. -_-;; I was looking down at my hands and didn't realize that I'd left the microwave open...oops. Worse still is the fact that my roommates aren't surprised that I would do such a thing. Granted, none of them actually witnessed my run in with the microwave door, but...when I told Gloria about what happened, she laughed and said that the whole incident sounds like it would be one of those video clips you find on failblog.org. Then somehow we got to a point in the conversation where we agreed that I walk into inanimate (and maybe animate as well?) objects so often that I am basically a living, breathing fail blog...
...
I just stepped away from this entry to take a shower...and I mistook my body wash as conditioner. But I didn't realize it until what I thought was my conditioner started foaming when I was combing it through my hair with my fingers.......
Living, breathing.....fail blog.....
...
Haha =] at least my stupid mistakes/failures make my life more interesting...and apparently serves as amusement for those who get to see me in action.
I was totally planning on writing a bunch more on what's been going on these last few weeks, but this entry is taking me entirely too long. I keep getting distracted by my AIM conversations...I set a limit for myself tonight and am going to turn my laptop off at 10pm so I can sleep by midnight. I read somewhere that the quality of your sleep can be improved if you stop watching TV and/or using your laptop/computer (basically any screen/monitor) two hours prior to bedtime.
So...
THE END! I'll post more another day. =]
...
I just stepped away from this entry to take a shower...and I mistook my body wash as conditioner. But I didn't realize it until what I thought was my conditioner started foaming when I was combing it through my hair with my fingers.......
Living, breathing.....fail blog.....
...
Haha =] at least my stupid mistakes/failures make my life more interesting...and apparently serves as amusement for those who get to see me in action.
I was totally planning on writing a bunch more on what's been going on these last few weeks, but this entry is taking me entirely too long. I keep getting distracted by my AIM conversations...I set a limit for myself tonight and am going to turn my laptop off at 10pm so I can sleep by midnight. I read somewhere that the quality of your sleep can be improved if you stop watching TV and/or using your laptop/computer (basically any screen/monitor) two hours prior to bedtime.
So...
THE END! I'll post more another day. =]
because I always fail at getting out of bed when my alarm first goes off
sigh.
I should have gone to sleep last night when I first started getting tired at around ten. Somehow I ended up sleeping at around 2:30...oops.
Anyway, there are a few things I need to take care of and I need to write/type it out somewhere so I can organize my day.
Let's see...
- border research proposal
- checkbook/bills
- summer hours
- student health center (physical, lab work)
- pictures/videos
- zotlink
- water
- course reader
Hm. Is that it? Somehow I feel like I'm missing something...oh well.
Alritey then. Let's do this...
I should have gone to sleep last night when I first started getting tired at around ten. Somehow I ended up sleeping at around 2:30...oops.
Anyway, there are a few things I need to take care of and I need to write/type it out somewhere so I can organize my day.
Let's see...
- border research proposal
- checkbook/bills
- summer hours
- student health center (physical, lab work)
- pictures/videos
- zotlink
- water
- course reader
Hm. Is that it? Somehow I feel like I'm missing something...oh well.
Alritey then. Let's do this...
5.10.2009
because of a piano concerto by grieg
I have been sitting in my parked car for 7+ minutes...the song is pretty. I'm waiting for it to end and leeching off of someone else's wireless. Lol...
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