Archive for November, 2008

The Blog That’s Not Transparent

{ November 28, 2008 @ 8:02 pm } · { Me, R }
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I don’t quite know how to say how I feel.

Those three words…they’re said too much.  They’re not enough.

If I lay here.

If I just lay here.

Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we’re told before we get too old.

Show me your garden that’s bursting into life.

All that I am.

All that I ever was.

Is here in your perfect eyes – they’re all I can see.

I don’t know where, confused about how as well.

Just know that these things will never change for us at all.

I’m not sure how to begin this entry.  Obviously, there’s the lyrics above (taken from Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars”) but besides the words of others, I have no clear and concise way to start what it is I want to get out.  It’s been too long since I last wrote and a recap is something I’m hardly interested in providing.  I’ve wanted to write for the last week or two, but haven’t for various reasons.

I’ve stated many times before that I seldom act purely based on emotion.  Emotions aren’t always trustworthy and rise and fall like the oceans’ tide.  They’re powerful, and volatile.  Not always are they to be trusted at face value, and far too often do people allow them to take over where common sense and sensibility should rule and reign.  Recently, I’ve been presented with many rival emotions – some understandable and some not.  Just because I feel, however, doesn’t mean that anyone besides myself need be informed.  Since most of what I’ve been thinking and feeling is far more than trivial, I’ve kept it to myself.  If I’m honest, there’s probably more reason to keep quiet than that.

I hate drama.  I hate angsty bull shit.  I hate being misunderstood and things assumed about me and my intentions which simply aren’t true.  At the same time, I find it terrifying to be brutally honest with just about anyone.  Not too long ago I was getting to know someone who continuously was open and (perhaps overly) emotionally available to me…something not always true for a guy.  He gave me crap at one point for being walled up and reserved.  I held back and didn’t necessarily go for what I really wanted.  I stayed quiet when it came to how I felt or what I thought.  He encouraged me to be what we termed “transparent”.  I always used to fear expressing emotion (not that I never did, I was just more careful than most) so when I was upset or wanted something or simply felt something which would make me vulnerable to express, I used to begin the sentiment with something like “Can I be transparent?”.  It was a bit tongue in cheek, almost like an inside joke.  I did this with him on quite a few occasions – and the whole situation fucked me over worse than just about the entirety of last year did.

Transparency, at least for the moment, can kiss my ass.  The problem with where I am now…God, where to begin.

In this moment, in all regards I am quiet.  There is no real high or low, no excess of anything.  To the one I mentioned above (and the one attached) their situation is one I pity, if anything.  That’s another topic I don’t particularly care enough to go any further on.  Now I find that no one department of my life is speaking any louder than the other.  They’re all in upheaval, this is true.  I began a new job last week, I move tomorrow, and as for relationships…well, they’re interesting but not incredibly profound.

The job I have now I have no reason to complain about.  I’m making more money than I was working at the school…but that doesn’t make me happier.  I loved working where I was.  They only reason I left was because of the money.  Thankfully, my boss adored me and manufactured a ‘job description’ for me to be able to stay by.  I’ve mentioned Boss Man before (not the teacher from last year, though he went by several “names” on this blog…I mean my Big Boss) and like I’ve said, I cant say enough good things about the guy.  He’s amazing.  It seems, the opinion’s mutual, and perhaps I’ll be able to return to the school in the not-so-distant future.  I’d be happy about that.  Like I said, I can’t complain.  Making money doesn’t suck.

Home…well, I haven’t felt like I’ve been at “home” since the day I moved in.  I moved out under circumstances which soon changed.  The reason I moved out, however, is still the same and the reason why I remain apart from my parents.  I moved out last year to Costa Mesa (and LOVED living out there) for the simple fact that I didn’t want to be one of those girls who relies on her parents for everything and banks on some dude to come along and take over where Mommy and Daddy leave off.  Being fully reliant on parents and then some guy I’ve seen as pretty pathetic.  A grown woman should be able to take care of her own nonsense.  Still living at home past the mid-twenties (at the latest) I have little respect for.  Same goes for guys, obviously.  I understand the whole Orange County thing, and how everything’s expensive…I get it.  I just didn’t want to one day have circumstances demand me be self-reliant and not know how to be so.  So, I moved out.  Things aren’t easy, but they’re doable.  The downside is not having a permanent “home” for the moment.  Indeed, its something of a right of passage for many in my generation to live this sort of nomadic existence before settling down.  Doesn’t mean I’m all that stoked about it – but when compared to the alternative…uprooting again tomorrow to a new place isn’t so bad.

Relationships.  I realized last week that I honestly have little interest in being in a relationship at the moment.  I’ve been with someone for the last few weeks.  We met a decade ago when we were both modeling, became friends when I was 19, were closer when I was 21, and now…well, now we’re something undefined, I suppose.  He’s a great guy in all regards, but even in his arms I’m still detached.  Shut off.  I didn’t start my recent situation, I didn’t pursue it, I didn’t choose it, and the climax of it all was by no means my intention.  The byproduct is a different level of detachment than I’ve ever known prior.

No, it’s not all the fault of that.  In addition, there’s just too much going on – too much demanding my attention.  Besides that, though, if I’m honest my heart is elsewhere.

My heart is last year.  No, there’s little to be done with that at the moment.

All this has done the one thing I never wanted it to – it’s managed to take my eyes away from where they were so adoringly fixed.  For a moment, I was where I wanted to be.  I was completely lost in what matters above all else – Him.  After my time with The Shack, the world faded and through a new lens of perspective, things all made sense.  I want that back.  Ah, see that’s where the anger comes in…anger that someone masquerading as light could bring nothing but pitch black to my life.  But, never mind that.

The lyrics above I had intended for another when i first began this.  Now…I find them fitting for the One I should have aimed them towards in the first place.

This is why I write, for those who are curious.  I don’t write to gossip, or to passive-aggressively get at anyone.  I don’t write for attention.  I write maybe to be understood, and sometimes because I know that I can’t be the only one dealing with these things and maybe someone else can benefit from knowing they’re not alone.  Mostly, I write to process.  How these end is usually not how I intended from the beginning.  I edit out only that which is too specific of others involved, and perhaps the extent of a thought or two.  In the end, whoever reads these I hope gets the heart behind it.

The Blog With 100 Things

{ November 27, 2008 @ 5:04 pm } · { Me, Uncategorized }
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I stole this idea from Jenn, who likely stole it from someone else.  Theft all around.

100 Things About Me

1. I love God

2. I am totally in love with His Son.

3. I am English – and still a resident alien, rather than a citizen in America

4. I have two AMAZING brothers

5. I have the best parents known to man

6. I have a Boston Terrier named Asher.  And yes, he is amazing.

7. I have a strange and extreme love for office/school supplies

8. My favorite pen is the Pilot G2 .38 in black.

9. I don’t have a favorite color

10. But, I like colors

11. I will eat a can of tuna with ketchup on top, straight out of the can, and consider it a meal.

12. I refuse to eat anything Avocado related

13. My favorite candy of all time is a Crunchie Bar (and they’re made by cadbury, English, and you can find them at Cost Plus World Market, or at English import stores)

14. I don’t have wisdom teeth.  Never have.

15. At one point, I had 13 piercings.

16. Now, I have 11.

17. I can play the flute, and was first chair in district honor band in Jr. High.  Impressive, I know.

18. I’m artsy.

19. I’m a bit OCD about organization at work

20. My room is an entirely different story

21. I wish I had a permanent tan, but I’m uber pale

22. Jazz usually makes me want to throw plates at a wall

23. I love children

24. At one point, my goal in life was to be in a movie SO AMAZING, that they made me into an action figure.

25. I’m brilliant at coming up with ideas and starting projects, but crap at finishing them.

26. I hate horror films a lot

27. I can sit in silence for hours and be quite happy about it

28. I can fold a pizza box behind my back

29. I love chocolate

30. I hate dark chocolate, and can’t even force myself to eat it.

31. I am SCUBA certified

32. I have only read about 1/6 of the books I own.

33. I have two tattoos.  The one on my ribs is my drawing.

34. I love going to concerts

35. I speak a bit of french, italian, sign language, and spanish.  (but don’t test me)

36. I swam with dolphins on my 21st birthday

37. I am fiercely protective of the ones I love

38. The angrier I am, the quieter I get.

39. I hit my head on concrete when I was 5, and gave myself brain damage – the result of which was me having to re-learn how to read and write (something I was fluent and quite good at…English education system is quite different than American and starts younger).  The docs told my parents I’d always struggle with language.  Turns out they were quite wrong.

40. I play soccer – doesn’t mean I’m good at it.

41. I hate the gym unless I have company

42. I have a high I.Q.  I’m not arrogant enough to share it.

43. I hate politics.

44. I think cockroaches are pointless and disgusting creatures.

45. My heart gets tugged by the Marine Corps…and one Marine in particular.

46. I think the United States Judicial system is a joke

47. I own some pretty amazing Benchmade knives

48. I like running other people’s errands

49. I love music

50. I care more than I let on

51. I am equally happy to let someone else have their way rather than mine

52. I love U2.

53. I love Delirious.

54. My first celebrity crush was David Bowie in Labyrinth.

55. Most iconic pop-culture related movies I have not seen.

56. I don’t like “stupid humor” movies.

57. I’m extremely tactile

58. I usually sleep naked.

59. I like roses

60. I like receiving them even more.

61. Gift giving is not really one of my “love languages”, though I appreciate and love the thought behind it

62. Money is of little importance to me

63. I’ve never been career or money driven

64. My focus in life has been God and my relationships

65. I love acting

66. I enjoy playing Rock Band – and I kinda kick ass at it, too

67. I know how to build the walls of a house.

68. I like power tools

69. I hate the word “moist”

70. I enjoy candle-lit baths

71. As a child, I wore pink and dresses more often than not.

72. I’m not nearly as cool as some have assumed

73. I’m actually a dork, in many regards

74. God made a soundtrack to my life and gave the lyrics to Phil Wickham.  True story.

75. I love hugs.

76. Sushi is one of my favorite foods

77. I have been known to eat packets of sugar straight

78. If I’m going to drink, it’s either going to be wine or something in the Vodka family

79. Unless it’s beer.  Then it’s Newcastle.

80. I could live just about anywhere and be happy

81. I randomly burst into song

82. I enjoy the physically demanding and potentially dangerous aspect of my job the best

83. I’ve always fallen for guys who I find out later play the guitar.  Every.  Single.  One.

84. I don’t have a ‘type’

85. I’m a sucker for Australian accents

86. I over analyze everything

87. I am an amazing girlfriend

88. I love kissing.  Men, that is.

89. I am my own worst critic.

90. I love my eyes.  They’re rad.

91. I’m pretty sentimental.

92. I’m remember dates of significant events and time periods.

93. I usually feel bigger than I am cuz I’m tall

94. I don’t hold grudges easily – I generally forget why I was mad/upset/hurt within a week.

95. I love laughing

96. My mom’s berry crumble and Golden Spoon are weaknesses I’ll never be able to fight.

97. I want to be a wife and mom someday

98. I like to be over-informed

99. I love rain!  I love listening to it, walking in it, watching it…

100. I rarely manage to show the ones I love how much they mean to me.  I need to work on that.

The Blog That’s Hot

{ November 16, 2008 @ 9:12 pm } · { Me, PG }
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I’ve wanted to write for the last two days, but time and circumstances have prevented it.  Most of my blogs for the last year or so have been pretty upfront, though there have been details and some stories held back due to their potential to hurt some who may be reading.  This edition of ramble I’m pretty sure is going to be a bit more candid.

I could probably write for hours about the last two days.  It feels as if it’s been a week rather than a single weekend, but between the fear, the adrenaline, the stress, and the worry, the days have melded together to form one rather epic time line of events.  For those with access to any form of current media, it should come as no shock that Orange County has been on fire for the last two days.  I, myself, am borderline tired of hearing the word “fire” for about the 10,384th time this weekend…and I’m someone who came a breath away from losing their home.

Spinach and Egg Whites with Pumpkin Pancakes.

Spinach and Egg Whites with Pumpkin Pancakes.

Saturday morning I awoke to an invitation from a girlfriend of mine to go to breakfast out in Orange.  I happily accepted, threw on at-shirt and a pair of Adidas sweatpants, and left within 20 minutes of waking.  We went to Original Pancake House off of Chapman Ave, and had a great time catching up and enjoying some amazing food.  By the way, I’m discovering that pumpkin is one of my favorite flavors in random foods.  My two recent loves include Pumpkin Ice Cream (Golden Spoon has an AMAZING frozen yogurt in this variety around this time of year, as does Dreyers) and Pumpkin Pancakes (pictured to the left next to my egg whites with spinach).  The breakfast is irrelevant except for the fact that it puts be on the 91 freeway headed east at about 10:30am – the time when clouds of black and rust colored smoke could be seen rising high up into the sky over the east Yorba Linda and Corona area.  I was on the phone with my new landlord at the time and said “wait a second…since when was THAT on fire?”.  He then told me about the fires in Los Angeles, but at my insistence that this couldn’t possibly be the same fire, he went online and then informed me that there was a second set of fires now…the outbreak they would eventually call the “Freeway Complex Fire”.  This fire was literally on my doorstep within the hour.

I immediately got off the phone with him so I could call my current roommate to check on the condition of our house.  She confirmed that yes, the fire was coming from our area, and even better – we were being evacuated.  By the time I was nearing home I hear from her again, only this time there was an element of urgency there that had been lacking the first time.

“Natalie, you need to get here NOW”.

I did the best I could with traffic, and made it there shortly after her phone call.  When I approached our street I was greeted with a wall of flames and smoke coming from the hill just beyond our apartment complex.  By ‘just beyond’, I mean ‘right the F there’ at my house.  I was joined by my mother a moment later (my parents live about a mile from me) and we quickly began gathering things to take with us.  Asher (obviously), clothing, tax documents, photos, bibles, journals, and every iSomething I own was removed and loaded into my mom’s forrester.  We went to my parents home which was at that point out of harms way.  Within forty-five minutes, my brother and I were out front of the house watching the smoke get closer.

The view from my parents home, looking up the street

The view from my parents home, looking up the street

My brother at the front of the house.

My brother at the front of the house.

We ended up driving to the elementary school at the top of the street and watched as the school yard play equipment burned to the ground.  It’s quite a surreal experience to be THAT close to a fire so unpredictable and potentially devastating.  We were about to leave the playground when I heard the name of my apartment complex said by a group of people standing about 20 feet behind me.  I turned immediately and asked them if they indeed had said what I thought they did.  They answered in the affirmative and I found out in that moment that my complex was officially on fire.  All I could manage was “that’s my house”, and tears choked off any further response to the questions which followed.  I left, then, with my brother – we had received the call telling us that my parents were now under the mandatory evacuation as well. The emotion, though, was something that confused me.  We’ll get to that later on in the blog.

This used to be my playground...

This used to be my playground...

My parents had already begun packing when I had been evacuated, so we had a bit of a head start on the situation.  Within 15 minutes, I left ahead of my family and made my way towards our family friends’ house out in Placentia.  I drove down to the main artery which would take me away from the ring of fire, and was again greeted with bursts of flames and a sea of thick smoke coming from the riverbed at the bottom of the hill.  It was like something from a movie, driving in a parade of cars through the dense smoke amidst burning hillside and flaming riverbed.  Again, the tears threatened…but I couldn’t really figure out why exactly…and, yes, we’ll get to that later.

The evening passed being glued to the televisions waiting for updates on our homes.  I must have called a dozen phone numbers trying to track down the correct information hotline for my area (a useless endless rabbit hole) and find out if my apartment was still there.  See, by this point, I’d heard from three separate sources that my complex was toast.  Turned out it was the complex across the freeway that was terminated, but at the time I was fearing the worst.  Actually, I wasn’t fearing it.

I honestly, candidly, wouldn’t have been bothered if it was my card that came up.  I had gotten all that truly mattered out of the house, and everything else was replacable.  It’s just stuff.  I have to move anyhow.  This may sound callous, but as someone who hasn’t stayed in one place for very long and who hasn’t felt like she’s at “home” in GOD knows how long…it wouldn’t have been too much of a tragedy to not have to re-paint the walls and have the carpets cleaned before moving out of a place I haven’t been too happy in since the move-in date of August 1st.  Of course, feeling this way makes me also feel guilty because the people who DID lose their houses are far more likely to be devastated than I would have been.  Hmm.

I stayed with the family for a while, then stayed at a friends’ for the night, then went back to another friend’s later the next day.  I returned home late last night to a place which was untouched – unlike the buildings at the far end of my complex which are left destroyed by fire.  The whole weekend was up, down, this way and that way, and added to the mix of everything that’s been going on…

This morning at work I realized that maybe I’m not quite as passive as I thought I was about everything.  I thought of the relational crap of not too long ago and again felt near tears.  The recent closing of a metaphorical window I likely shouldn’t be interested in, it bothers me.  The fact that I’m in the last week of a job I have adored more than any other – it’s pretty upsetting.  I’m moving next week – that’s a bit stressful also.  I have a psych exam to take as a make-up in two days…it’s one I missed last week because I was sick as anything and my mom had just been in surgery, and I still haven’t studied.  Whatever else is going on with the relationship side of my life – it’s all more static and one who means so much to me is farther away than he has been in ages.  The whole God thing is a battle, and that I find bothersome.  I tend to shrug things off with “shit happens”, but in reality it’s a batch of lies to push things aside that I don’t want to deal with.

I tried talking to my mother about one of the aspects of concern this afternoon, but her quick assesment of the situation and point blank statements which disregarded any feeling I may have in the matter quickly silenced me on the subject.  With my main source of human guidance out of the picture for a while, I’m left floundering – and not liking it one bit.  It’s the day after when this blog began to be written, and there is much which could be added.  These subjects shall wait for another time and another batch of energy, because for now I’m exhausted.

The Blog On Memory Lane

{ November 13, 2008 @ 9:40 pm } · { G, Me }
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I’ve been re-connecting with quite a few people from the past lately.  Whether they be ex-relationships, or former close friends, there have been many cameo appearances in this life of mine.  Each of them holds a unique memory and place in my heart.  At the place I’m at now, I’ve realized with no small amount of joy that these people are perhaps still around for a reason – but also realize with some sadness, that the friendships and community I’ve been searching for in all the wrong places was right here all along.  How much time and heartache could have been spared by simply opening my eyes and seeing these for who and what they are.

NZAnother character is one who earns mixed reviews from those who have been around a while.  He is, however, one who has never fully managed to escape my heart.  As a lost and missed friend of mine once said “there are those who etch their names on the walls of your heart”…and he is indeed one of them.  His is likely etched the deepest, and talking to him tonight makes me wonder why.  Not wonder in a bad way, rather wonder why he’s STILL there, when I have in the past had a remarkable ability to move on.  Yes, I’m moved on…but there’s still something there.  I know MY reasons why, but I don’t know in the grand scheme of things why.  Funny how the heart works, really.

Memory Lane is an interesting place to wander – and one I am at this moment enjoying re-visiting.

The Blog That’s An Intermission, Really

{ November 12, 2008 @ 10:55 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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Asher's first day in Laguna BeachI have the best friends, I really do.  I’ve heard from so many of them asking how both my mother and I are doing, and it’s greatly appreciated.  Anything I have to write should probably remain out of the public eye, so I’ll just share a picture or two from Saturday morning.

Also, check through the last month or so’s postings if you feel so inclined – I’ve added some pictures to some and edited a few.

Asher Puppy - 6 months old

Asher Puppy - 6 months old

Perfect Saturday

Perfect Saturday

The Blog That’s Brief

{ November 11, 2008 @ 11:47 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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I should be asleep, but I’m near cerain I will be calling in sick tomorrow morning, anyhow.  I have been fighting whatever it is the kids have for a few days now, and that combined with the need to be with the family has pretty much cemented my status.  Today was an odd day.  I spent the majority of it distracted by the situation of my mother being in the hospital.  I had requested permission to have my phone on me for the day from my boss, and had luckily been granted the go-ahead.  I was grateful for her permission as there were a flood of texts of encouragement and well wishes from friends that came in through the morning.  The question of wisdom came in when I received the update from my Dad – nearly two hours after she was supposed to be out of the OR.  They couldn’t do what they had wanted, and her problem was not fixed.

Thankfully, it is not life threatening, but still the news affected me.  I did separate from the job for a few minutes, but really any sort of break was out of the question.  It is upsetting to once again have no relief for my mom’s health issues.  When is enough enough?

What I would write here is probably more than I have the drive to go into at the moment.  I’m drained.  On an up note, I was blessed to have had an amazing day yesterday in San Diego and a great night tonight with someone who’s been around for the better part of 10 years.  We have our history, but he is one of the most honest, loyal, loving, and overall amazing guys I know.  To still have his friendship after all these years (and times of nonsense), I am truly blessed.

Taken off the San Diego shore

Taken off the San Diego shore

The Blog With Heart

{ November 10, 2008 @ 11:40 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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I’ve sat here debating about whether to write or not for the last twenty minutes.  I’m far too ADD to have done nothing BUT debate, but it was a while ago that I opened this window on the computer with the intention of putting thought to page.  Thing is, when I walked into my room I had one train of thought, and then a moment after settling in I had a completely different one.  On an emotional note, I went from upset to angry.  Then I went from angry, to amused, to sad, to conflicted, to amused, and then back to upset.  No matter what other stimuli there may be, the biggest one is the situation in my head when I walked into the room in desperate need for an outlet.

Tomorrow morning my mom goes in for heart surgery.

I received a bitchy phone call from my brother this evening, criticizing my care for my mother (or perceived lack there of) and endured what ended up being a fifteen minute conversation about his view of me.  Honestly, it didn’t bother me.  That’s the interesting thing, really.  It should have bothered me but instead I felt nothing.  When people base their opinions of another souly on their own one-sided and inaccurate perceptions, then they merely look like a dumb ass when they play their hand of empty garbage.  Anyone who has an issue with me or something I’ve done I welcome to take it up directly with me, because if they’re going to have an opinion it better be well informed from accurate information.  Negative prejudices mean nothing when they come from a miss-guided/bias/un-respectable source.

What did bother me about this evening was the fact that no one told me the severity of the procedure to take place tomorrow.  My dad has been minimizing it from the start and my mother makes no mention of anything health related ever, so I had trusted what I was told and refused to stress about it or make it out to be a big deal.  Now I’m told something quite different, and it both scares me and pisses me off.

I could go on for a while, but I’m exhuasted.  Sleep hasn’t been so stellar of late, and I also don’t feel well.

The Blog Before Bed

{ November 8, 2008 @ 11:25 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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I cheated in the whole “one post per day” thing…because this post I just deleted the content of and what follows is completely different.  It’s previous incarnation was annoyingly borderline passive-aggressive.  No bueno.

But I did just have one of the best Saturdays ever.  Woke early, went to Laguna Beach with a couple girl friends and Asher, had breakfast on PCH, and took a walk on the beach.  It’s amazing to note at this point in life I am surrounded by such amazing women to call friends.

At The Key Club

At The Key Club

Friday evening was spent with one of my co-workers then one of my former roommates.  Saturday morning was these two and then Saturday night was another girl friend of mine’s band playing out in Rancho.  For me, the concept of having friends that AREN’T male has been a learned experience – and one I am so thankful God forced me to do.

The Blog With Phone Jack

{ November 7, 2008 @ 1:22 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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So, today I went to the AT&T store to get a new phone since mine’s up for upgrade and it’s been a bit of a punk lately.  I love my phone, I do.  It’s a Sony Ericsson and it’s been amazing to me for nearly two years.  But, sadly, our relationship needed to end.

I’m sorry, phone.  It’s not you, it’s me…and my new iPhone.

The Blog With A Football Game

{ November 6, 2008 @ 10:18 pm } · { G }
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Today was a glorious day, in most regards.  Work was pretty cool, as it has been the last two or three days.  There were some great fire-extinguising moments, a restraint or two I was part of, and quite possibly one of the cooler moments I have got to witness while working with the kids – an impromptu staff vs. students football game at P.E.

I brought my class out at our designated time only to find the entire PE area filled with students and quite a few staff.  Upon further observation, it turned out that most of the male staff and nearly four classes worth of students (also all male) were gathered together playing the game.  Unless you’ve got a decent idea of the kind of population I work with, then this won’t seem remarkable in the slightest.  I work with Emotionally Disturbed teenagers who are too violent or have too many anti-social behavioral problems which prohibit them from functioning in a public school environment.  The majority of them are on the not-so-bright end of the intelligence spectrum, but all are there for unacceptable behaviors which have manifested in the past and caused them to be kicked out of whichever school they came from.  Some have a criminal record, some have probation officers, and some are just F-ed up.  Throughout the week, we handle their violent behaviors (sometimes going hands one, which I have written about previously) and seldom do we get to see what most would consider to be a “normal” kid when interacting with these.  During most days, the amount of pro-social interaction between them, between them and staff, and especially both on a large scale is minimal.  To witness them today gathered together playing football – it was as if they were just any other kid playing a game with the guys.  They were happy.  You could clearly see the element which is usually missing in their eyes and demeanor – a near childlike joy at being “one of the guys” with men who they (whether they admit it or not…mostly NOT) look up to and see as authority figures.  There’s something endearing about watching an older generation of men engage with, encourage, and build up the ones younger than them.  As I watched the toughest of our guys, including the boss eventually, playing around and joking with these kids so starved for positive attention – I turned into such a chick.  Yes, I even ran inside to get a camera to document the moment.

That’s the thing though: it’s the seemingly mundane moments in life which can hold such joy if only we look just a little bit closer.  My heart did acrobatics this afternoon, and the memory still makes me smile.

The only downer was the usual post-meeting funk I usually fall into after leaving work on Thursdays.  I have yet to pinpoint exactly what it is, but there is something that triggers me every single time and I usually end up leaving the school either in tears or wanting to assualt something.  I have ideas, to be certain, but the precise issue that sets me off I’m not sure about.  Today I drove away and headed towards a park nearby.  It’s a park I used to frequent late last year and early this.  There’s an acorn tree there which I have spent many hours amongst its limbs, whether solo or in the arms of another.  I had intended to visit the tree today for some quiet time, but there were several questionable characters lingering in the parking lot when I arrived.  The tree is somewhat set out of the way and is a bit secluded…logic prevented me from venturing out there solo, considering my arrival was clearly observed.  Instead I stayed in the van, wrote for a bit, and dozed for a few minutes before driving home.

The end of the day isn’t too remarkable…just family time and dinner.  The football game…there is my highlight for day.  I’m not sure how many people will get the picture I’m getting at.  I can hope some do, as it brought me a hearty dose of happy.

The Blog That Doesn’t Do It Justice

{ November 6, 2008 @ 12:54 am } · { Uncategorized }
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AcornBecause I keep my silence, doesn’t mean I don’t fight screaming

Just as I seek and wonder, I still search for the meaning

I look to read between between the lines

Between the space between you and I

I battle myself, my logic, my pride

But at the end of the day I wonder why

Before my eyes I can plainly see

Exactly your heart as it’s fixed upon me

For the knowledge to mean something

Everything I’ve known must mean nothing

So I remain where I am and continue to hide

Despite what I want, my hands are still tied

The Blog About Ch Ch Ch Changes

{ November 5, 2008 @ 11:20 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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I tend to be remarkably seasonal.  I think it’s a family trait, sadly, as one of my elder brothers is the same way.  Basically, life is stellar for us and ours during the spring and summer…then it takes a nose dive into crapville mid-fall to winter time.  I’m not sure why this is really, but it’s something I’ve noticed to be true for the past few years.  Another symptom of this tragic tendency is the restlessness that begins building near the end of summer and continues through the new year.  This year is no exception to either observation.

The restlessness has been there for a few months.  There’s been an overall dissatisfaction with my position in life at the moment and that leads to me being tempted to flee to any manner of avalible options.  I enjoy changes of scenery, and I crave the freedom of fresh starts.  The idea of going to another state (did that a couple summers ago…didn’t really end up the way I’d planned) or heading back home to England is remarkably appealing for the sake of leaving all the nonsense in Southern California behind.  Obviously, you can’t run from your problems, or in this case frustrations.  I’m not a runner, anyhow.  That said…things certainly are changing.

Fear hit me for the first time this morning after I turned in my letter of resignation to my boss at work.  This may come as a surprise for anyone who’s known me or been following here for a while, as all evidence likely indicates my love for my current job.  It completely true – I love my job.  I adore working where I do and I find endless opportunities for learning on a day to day basis.  Nothing is ever the same, it’s always interesting, and I love the people I work with.  The sad fact is, however, that my current circumstances require me to find a job with more to offer by way of finances.  I hoped it would never get to that point, but with the need to move due to the baby (and Asher, also) and the desire to not be living on such a paycheck to paycheck basis, I’ve been looking quietly for a while for something new.  I found it, and I’m excited…but I’m also incredibly sad.  Add to that the above mentioned fear.

Everything is changing.  Within the month I’ll have a new job and a new home.  The new home is something I settled on over the weekend and confirmed yesterday – the same day I took the new job.  It’s awesome that everything is falling into place, but it’s also scary.  I said a few months ago that I was looking forward to the times ahead because they could literally take me anywhere.   I was right, as it turns out.  I’m heading in a direction I didn’t expect, but one I’m glad to be headed down.  Oh, and I also got my acceptance letter for my Communications in Entertainment and Media major through CSUF in Irvine.  Life sure is picking up speed.  Looks like it’s going to be a pretty cool ride, though.

The Blog That’s A Buck Short

{ November 4, 2008 @ 11:39 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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Considering what I do for a living and the kinds of mindsets I work with, it really shouldn’t be such a surprise when I encounter a way of thinking so drastically different than my own.  Even beyond work, there’s been many unique circumstances I have lived in and through which have brought me to a place of being (in most aspects of life) quite a well rounded individual.  I’m not closed minded in that I’ll listen and do my best to understand another person’s perspective.  Of course, that certainly does not guarantee me conceding to their position, but it does open the mind up to potential new opportunities for learning.

In most situations where I encounter a difference of opinion, there’s at most an element of irritation or or a frustration that the other isn’t giving my viewpoint nearly the kind of consideration I may give theirs.  Even these little snags in psychological equilibrium are short lived and rarely carry on to mean anything.  The exception to this rule usually coincides with the first statement of the above paragraph.  It’s times when I am knocked sideways and taken aback that my insides start to tussle and I don’t quite know what to do with myself.

I’ve alluded to relationship issues lately, but with little detail to flesh it out.  I’ve avoided spelling it out for a few reasons; first, I try to keep specific personal details involving another person out of the public forum; second, I am well aware of certain people who view this and will either be hurt by what is said (him),  or will assume they know what and who I am talking about and be pissed/hurt/incredulous/ridiculous about it (her), even though more than likely their assumptions are incorrect both in subject and content; third, the situations mentioned aren’t necessarily about the same person or persons from blog to blog.  No, there’s isn’t a harem of random characters, but there are different kinds of relationships – all of which have to do with different people.

The reason for mentioning this tonight is due to my wrestling with my perspective and his on a number of interactions we have had recently.  I struggle between seeing things my way – meaning that my wishes should be respected and not ignored in favor of his (I’m not a “my way” person…but in this circumstance, both parties involved should have equal say), and seeing things his – we’re both similar and have similar tendencies, so of course I’d want what he wants.  Nope.

I began this blog a bit earlier and have since conversed with a mutual friend of ours to sort through some of this ish.  At this point, what I’m looking at is how I would feel about things if he wasn’t who he was – if there wasn’t a pre-existing relationship (any sort of relationship, really).  This stance puts things into perspective…and it’s not such a stellar light to see someone in, sadly.  How much do we excuse away of the ones we care about simply because we’re unwilling to see things for what they are?  If what we live through was happening to someone else, what would we advise them to do?

There’s that sadness, again.

The Blog That’s A Day Late

{ November 3, 2008 @ 11:56 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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It looks like the pieces are falling into place, though there’s still a  fear that it’ll all fall out from underneath me.  Home situation.  Work situation.  School situation.  They’re all coming together, it would seem.

God is good.

The Blog That Rocks The Harbor

{ November 2, 2008 @ 10:32 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, Me }
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“Rock the Harbor”

It had been dark for a while as she parked her car nearly a block from her destination.  She didn’t mind the walk which would be necessary, as it would give her another chance to scan the parking lots and street for one of several potentially familiar cars – evidence that would give warning that their unique owners would be present somewhere during the service.  It wasn’t a fearful paranoia, rather a gathering of information to prepare her for what and who she could face during the course of the evening.  The wooden heels of her shoes made a hollow sound in the night as she made the walk and found no familiarity in any of the vehicles parked in her view.  Her arm casually swung at her side as she moved, belying the inner turmoil writhing in her heart and mind.  She thought to herself about how she wished any one of the number of friends she knew who went to the church had been available to accompany her on this night.  It wasn’t that she didn’t like going by herself, it was the fear of running into the wrong person within those walls while she remained solo, and the desire for the presence of another at her side for company.

No sooner had she thought it but she felt the still comfort of Someone much bigger than anything she could encounter, and an almost tangible sense of Him walking at her side.  She knew then, that despite the anxiety and fear, she was here for a reason.  Any doubt about this being the right place at the right time flew from her mind as she smiled and headed into the building knowing that Papa was walking with her, Hand in hand.

The sanctuary was packed, as was usually the case at the seven-o-clock service, and she scanned the seating from the perimeter of the room for both the likely presences of a few in question, as well as an empty seat.  After a few minutes and zero success for either venture, she was asked by an usher if she was looking for someone specific or just an empty seat.  She was surprised at the attention, as there were many others obviously in her same situation and she had made no effort to connect with the guy.  The honest response of “both” she bypassed in favor of the more important truth that she was indeed seeking a seat solo.  The usher walked away and she resumed her vacant eyed scan of the sea of faces before her.  Another minute or two passed before she, by chance, looked up to see the same usher nod in her direction and point to an empty seat on the center-right side of the room.  After thanking the guy and taking her seat between two people who she would later learn were Liz and Josh, she settled her purse and self and awaited the start of the service.

The band took the stage and began their two-song-service-warm-up set.  She remained in a quietly peaceful place, glad to be able to focus on The One she’d come to be with anyhow, and delighted in the choice of a Phil Wickham song as one of the two worship songs selected to start the night.  Recently she had said to someone “God made a soundtrack to Me, He just gave the music and lyrics to Phil Wickham”, and was reminded of a night not too long ago where she and a friend had enjoyed a live performance of his in Newport.  The lyrics did their usual tug of perfect alignment with her heart, and the band quite nearly did the song complete justice.

As the service moved on and she did her usual notes in artistic and abstract form, she felt something stirring within at the words of the guest speaker.  He was a young guy from Australia, and someone so filled with passion that it was contagious.  His drive to live out life radically with love for Christ was inspiring, and when he spoke of the desire to still be madly in love with his wife fifty years from now, she felt her eyes prick with impending tears.

“A lily among thorns, is my wife” he said, quoting Song of Songs.  “Not that there aren’t some wonderful, fun, and kind thorns out there in the audience…but she is the one God has given me and it is HER I choose to love and delight in for the rest of my life”.

The service eventually came to a close, and she found herself in one of the side rooms before a cross.  There, on her knees, the tears began to flow.  It had been a hard week.  It was a week filled with questionable memories, painful encounters, and a deep seated sadness mixed with disappointment in another involved.  It had been a difficult month, filled with much of the same only with less intense moments of meaning.  Beyond that, it had been a trying year – two days beyond the anniversary of an event which started one of the most painful years of her life.  Sobs wracked her body as she remained curled over her knees on the floor, remembering…

There she allowed the tears which had been threatening for the first time in two weeks.  Up until that point, she had remained stubbornly cold and closed off to the events which had transpired.  She remembered the evenings where things had gotten out of hand and her words of protest had meant nothing.  As she both confessed to her own wrong doing and cried out her confusion as to how she should view the other’s actions in the situation, she felt for the first time Papa’s anger at the other involved.  Her hair fell in a veil curtaining her face as her mouth held a silent scream and the tears fell faster.  Her mind allowed picture after picture of memories which played like a slide show behind closed eyes.  Memories of pleasures, of pain, of heartache, and some which defied any label which could appropriately categorize their full significance.  One by one, she handed over the actions and memories and one by one they were sealed from the immediate view of her heart and mind.  Eventually, the activities of the main sanctuary drew her focus back to them and she listened as a pastor began to speak.

She hadn’t known that baptisms were to take place that evening, as the crowd had obscured her view of the front of the room and the tell-tale kiddie pool which was filled and at the ready.  Explanation of the practice was given, but then the invitation was extended to those who hadn’t already been planning on participating – something rarely if ever done at this church.  For years she had watched people be baptized and thought about one day re-committing in the same fashion.  She herself had been baptized in water at age 10, but enough had happened through her teens and twenties that a fresh declaration was well within the realm of justified.  Months prior, when the end of her previous relationship had taken place, she had began thinking of doing just this when she felt separated enough from the ordeal.  Separation had occurred, certainly, but then subsequent stumbles in life had come in and clouded out the desire to take a stand once again.

Tonight, however, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

She arose and watched the first few be submerged under the water and rise to a cheering congregation.  The debate of joining in began, and then doubt started to edge its way into her thinking.  She wished her friends and family could be present to witness such an event, should it occur, but she also feared that her motives would seem foolish.  After all, she’d already been baptized once before.  Why repeat the effort?

Because she was tired of living in the past and it was time to put it to death.  There was the wish to have witnesses from her life, but the wish was silenced with near giddy realization that it wasn’t about who else could be present – it was really only about Papa and her.  He was the One she was there for.  He was the one who she would relentlessly run and fight her way back into the arms of.  He was the one who, even then, already had her safely wrapped within His arms and guided her around the room and into the short line leading to the pool of water.

As she stood in line, self conscious and thinking that there were others around her who were doing this for the first time and their effort held more meaning, she was reminded of what exactly she was doing and declaring.  No sooner had the thought entered her mind, than she remembered the date and it’s relevance.  At the year marker, she was starting over.  Near the start of the line, her gaze caught that of a pastor she had spoken with on several ocassions.  He was the pastor she had been led to by someone very dear three November’s prior after being assaulted by a man she never should have trusted.  He was the pastor she had met with with the same dear someone when she had been planning on co-leading a life-group.  He was also the one she met with in the days following the event a year prior which began her last relationship – a meeting wherein she stepped down from potentially leading the life-group due to her convictions on the condition of her heart at the time.  He was also the one who prayed with her at the fair grounds on Easter, just days after she had ended the relationship on Good Friday.  He had been with her through so much, and as she approached he asked, “May I baptize you”, to which her response could only be “Please”.

“Sweetly Broken” became the song played by the band and she smiled at its pre-existing significance.  He held her hand as she walked up to the water and stepped in.  She barely noticed the cold enveloping her body as she focused on the pastor’s words.  As he spoke she felt a grin take over her face and a joy take root in her spirit, and a moment later as she submerged and arose from the water that joy took flight.

The crowd cheered, but it was the sound of a needle dropping compared to the cry of victory which would have shook and echoed through heaven the moment that first breath was taken after rising.

The cold was meaningless in light of what that simple act had meant.  She wrapped the bright orange towel offered to her around her shoulders and joined the crowd for the remainder of worship.  The ocassional tear escaped her eyes, to which she out of habit automatically chastised herself for being stupidly emotional – a thought which earned a quick:

I MADE YOU THIS WAY, AND YOU ARE MY DELIGHT.

During the remainder of the night and on the way home, she reflected upon the events of the evening and couldn’t help laughing at the little bits of finely orchestrated details that only God could have masterfully planned.  It’s like the ending of a film where the viewer is reminded of the clues along the way which now appear so obvious in light of the film’s conclusion.  Everything about the evening – from the fact she was alone, to the fact that she had seen NO ONE familiar (a near impossibility for her, considering her five plus years of attendance and history with several characters in particular), the appearance of several songs with significant attachment and meaning throughout the night, the fact that baptisms were even planned at all – especially on the ocassion of unique anniversary of hers, the abnormal open invitation for spontaneous participation, the presence of that particular pastor, the timing of a text or two from a couple significant characters after the fact, and instance upon instance of things being so much more than able to be chalked up merely to chance.

The drive home was filled with tears, but they were no longer tears of pain.  There were some of sadness as she relinquished the attachments she had held on to for so long.  Mostly, though, there was the start of a new hope – and a completely new joy for the passion re-ignited to seek out and follow The One she had adored since childhood, and The One who had relentlessly pursued and captured her heart once again.

Baptism, Rock Harbor style

Baptism, Rock Harbor style

***

So, why write in third person?  There’s some stories which are easier to tell when you remove the “I” factor.  The above is my retelling of the events of tonight – minus a great deal of personal details which I’d be more than happy to go into with those who are interested, but is not really necessary for re-telling the story.  If anything of the above is confusing, I appologize.  It’s late.  If any of it seems weird or corny or lame…I don’t care.  I am completely in love with Jesus – and that is something I’m not appologizing for.

The Blog About Pages

{ November 1, 2008 @ 10:02 pm } · { PG }
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Coming off medication sucks, lets just get that out of the way.

Ok.  Somehow I feel that the above sentence, though it will remain, probably deserves at least a follow up or two to clarify.  I’ve been on and off a medication or two for a bit less than a year.  As of last Monday, I’ve been coming off of it once again and it’s been somewhat less than fun.  The reason why I decided to cease the intake is perhaps premature, but all things considered, the risk of the precaution far outweighs the consequence of the lack thereof.  The result?  Nausea and emotional nonsense.  Not overly emotional, thank God…just quick transitions from one to the other.

Of course, I’m just guessing that it’s the medication and not the immense amount of stress and stimulus of the last week or two. I don’t want to talk about the crap of the last week, however.

Today was a pretty cool day.  I went over to my best friend’s house to hang with her, her family, and her extended family of bikers.  I brought Asher along and he got quite a bit of attention and made several new friends.  I, myself, re-connected with someone from the more distant past.  I’ve known this guy since high school and we dated for about a year and a half.  We broke up about three years ago, and have had varying degrees of friendship ever since.  We haven’t been all that close since the breakup as there was a discrepancy between our individual motives for maintaining relationship.  There’s been some drama, some misunderstanding, and some words spoken out of immature frustration.  He still remains, though, someone who knows me better than just about anyone.  I was reminded of this today as I approached him to try and clear the air which I have felt to be akward for the last few months.

The last time we saw each other was at Dave & Busters.  He was there with a girl he was seeing and a small group of our mutual friends, and I was meeting for what would be the last time (up until the present, at least) with the one from the recent past.  Our interraction was limited, but the concern and protective anger I saw in him is pretty memorable to this day.  That’s something I always loved about this guy – he is fiercly loyal and protective of those he loves.  He’s one of the most honest and integrous guys I think I’ve ever known, and today I realized just how much I took his care for granted.  We had a great conversation, cleared up a few things, and we talked for a bit about his recent trip to see the one I mentioned previously last weekend.

I mentioned the anniversary yesterday, and it’s the same person who my Ex has become friends with.  The fact that the two of them can have any sort of amiable relationship is nothing short of an act of God.  It also is something I am fully aware is likely to be used by God to achieve His will in this other’s life.  I have looked back on the relationship for a while now with regret (not the year and a half one, the recent one).  I regret it for the pain it caused those surrounding the situation.  The ripple effect is one that was so far reaching it seems utterly selfish to maintain any sort of fond memories in light of the pain caused.  Yet, the battle to maintain the stance of regret as opposed to remembering that which I cared for so deeply and looking on those memories with fondness…it’s one I still fight.

It’s a matter of willpower, at this point.  The odd thing about willpower, though, is that it can make you do some pretty funny things.  I had to ask my best friend today why I didn’t like my ex.  Seriously.  Meaning, I had to try to remember why the heck we broke up and why I so stubbornly fought against his lingering affections over the years.  She couldn’t come up with a reason other than the fact that there was a huge amount of missunderstanding and misscommunication that went on during and after, a fact which we both have admitted to and talked about.  I’m not saying I’m all set to get back together with my ex, but I did get remarkably confused today while talking to him that I wasn’t nearly as opposed to him as I had willed myself to be in the past.  Interesting.  No, I’m not assuming anything coming of this.  It’s just interesting.

The one from the recent past though…gotta come up with a better frame of reference.  That pseudonym is just too wordy.

img_3177_2From the get together and conversation, I headed home to get ready before going to a post-halloween party with a friend and the band she manages.  The guys are cool, one in particular has become a good friend of mine, and the people they have surrounding them are fun.  I realized tonight, though, that my tolerance for their kind of lifestyle has worn pretty thin.  It’s not them, exactly, but more like the people they hang around.  The whole drinking, partying, smoking, swearing, vulgar, scantily clad and white-trashy thing just isn’t my scene.  Never has been, really.  I’ve been around them on many ocassions, but tonight was likely the clearest moment of realization I’ve had that I just don’t belong there.  I don’t enjoy it.  I don’t share their values or lifestyle, nor do I want to.  I left before 10.img_3146

And now, sitting here in bed, I am relieved to think that maybe…just maybe…the pages turned in the life of me will stay turned.  I’m tired of going back and re-living that which is not me.  Certainly, there are elements of the past which have yet to conclude their story, but that’s a whole different issue.  It’s something only the future will tell.

On a side note – Asher may be pretty much amazing, but he snores like no other.  Oy.