Onward and Upward!

I'm moving on from this blog... but feel free to follow me at my new blog or my tumblr!

Thanks everyone for following me all this time.

Dear God,

I am trying to trust You. I am trying to make what I know in my head, the fact that You know what is best, feel right in my heart. But I'm not ready.

I just keep trying to remember that You will never give me more than I can handle. Just make me strong. Make me capable. Make me faithful, and hold me close, please.

I'm not ready.

Treasured Gold

Songwriting used to be such a big part of me. I used to be able to write at least a song a month, if not more, and though they weren't all great, looking back I can proudly say that I wrote some lyrics of real quality that I can still appreciate. Though many of my songs came from a (somewhat embarrassing) place of adolescent angst, I can't deny that those feelings were real and extremely powerful. 

I can't write anymore, and I don't know what that means for my life. I haven't written a full song in over a year, maybe two, and it's hurting me. I'm grieving and mourning that part of me; I feel alone and lost without it. I know that I am more content with my life now, and maybe that's why I just don't have the passion within me that I did when I was going through rocky times of heartbreak, identity crisis, loneliness and loss. While I don't miss those things, I miss the art that I made out of them. There's a line from an Adele song that I love that says, "Turn my sorrow into treasured gold," which applies perfectly.

But the ugliness of it all is that I still have a lot of the feelings that once inspired me so much. My life is far from perfect. Rejection, confusion, hopelessness, emptiness. I've had all these feelings in recent times, but my talent for spinning gold is missing in action. These feelings are rotting and fermenting like bad apples inside my heart.

I'm going to be honest, more honest than I usually choose to be in this public place. I'm in a bad way. I feel as though I can't get through a day without wanting to cry, like I don't know or even particularly like myself, like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, and mostly, hugely, like something is missing. All I want to do is find refuge in a guitar and a pen like I used to, but that doesn't belong to me anymore. It's like wanting to cry on the shoulder of an former lover but knowing that you can't, knowing that your days with that person are past. How do I move on? Do I keep on trucking, faking it till I make it? Do I keep pathetically trying to rekindle the flame?

I remember sitting on my bed crying, scribbling down words and singing until that final moment of release, when the joy of creation overcame the labor pains of birthing a song full of emotion. It made those feelings so much less hard to deal with. It was like every time I sang the words, the emotions became less powerful, like a magic spell. Now those same feelings are overcoming me, winning the battle, and I am weak, getting weaker.

I'm not sure how I am supposed to live. Any advice would be welcome.

Let Go

I had an Easter Epiphany. 

I was sitting there at church when I realized how much I need to be on a worship team. That's what was missing. But here's the catch, because there always has to be one. 

While I love being part of the team, I feel like I am always being pushed to lead. I don't like leading. I don't believe that I have leadership qualities; assertiveness is not one of my strengths, and I would not even venture to call myself organized. While I'm not a follower, per se, I really prefer to be the backbone of a group, the dependable one. On the occasions that I have dabbled in leading worship, people always tell me how talented I am and how much I am meant for it. Maybe this is what people see, but it is not how I feel. I get anxious and stage frighty and I never get stage fright.

But despite all this, something keeps bringing me back. People I admire keep pushing me and challenging me to become a leader despite my youth, despite the small numbers of female worship leaders, despite my fears and despite my inexperience. And I've realized that maybe this is one of those things that you always hear about... where God wants you to do something that you don't want to do. One of those times when you're supposed to let go and let God. It sounds cheesy, but I really think that's what's happening in my life right now. And I'm ready for it. I'm ready to take this on. 

This will be the summer. This will be the summer I stop doing what I want, and start taking my place on God's stage, no matter how scary it is. PRAY FOR ME.

Bookworm Wednesday: The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I've decided that every Wednesday I'm going to write about a book I've read recently, and I'm going to call it "Bookworm Wednesday"! In case you didn't know, I'm a huge bookworm. I've loved to read ever since I learned how to at age three, and before that I loved being read to. I may not be a professional critic or an English major (anymore!), but I have read a lot of books. I always love to spread the word when I like something, so, here we go!

This week's book is The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky.

Picture found here

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a series of letters written by the fictional character, Charlie. We do not know who the letters are being written to, as they are simply addressed, "Dear Friend." Charlie's letters follow him through his first year of high school in the years 1991 through 1992, and talk about his experiences with his family, making new friends, and being a "wallflower."

At the start of the novel, Charlie's best and only friend has just committed suicide. It is clear from the beginning that Charlie is not a normal adolescent. Although the book never provides an explanation, he is highly emotional, dreamy, and often depressive and anxious, and has a hard time interacting with other people. At a football game, Charlie befriends Patrick and Sam, two seniors who are stepbrother and stepsister. Through them, he really learns to "participate" in life, and goes through an adolescent journey that ranges from the silly and awkward (e.g.; first kisses, truth or dare) to the traumatic and the tragic (e.g.; abusive relationships, alcoholism, sexual abuse). 


I'm shocked that this book escaped me during my adolescent years, but I'm so glad that I found it now. Chbosky openly drew inspiration from Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye, and it is obvious, but his novel takes on a beauty all its own. Charlie is one of the most endearing, poignant and insightful characters I have ever experienced. His experience of life and the people in it are to be admired and learned from, and his optimism is inspiring in a way Holden Caufield never managed to be.

Many of his side comments and questions made my eyes well up throughout the book, and at the end, I was emotionally drained. It's been a really long time since a book affected me that way, actually, probably since I read The Catcher in the Rye for the first time! 


I don't want to explain too much, because reading it is such an experience. Needless to say, I highly recommend it.

Diamonds

Three of my cousins are currently engaged, and I think it's wonderful. I love all of the change and anticipation happening in my family right now. Of course, somewhat unfortunately, it's made me start thinking about engagement. I'll just put it out there: I'm not getting engaged any time soon. I have a lot of school to get through before that could even be an option, and so does Marshall. Not that we haven't talked about it, which brings me to my ultimate point.

Diamonds.

Picture found here.

Marshall has never really struck me as a big humanitarian, social movement kind of guy. Not that he doesn't care about people, and he absolutely has strong opinions, but they're usually more related to his personal or family life. However, he never fails to surprise me. He has a big moral qualm with the diamond industry, and he has made it clear that if and when we get engaged, I should not expect a diamond. 

Me: But look at how sparkly it is!

Marshall: Yeah, guess how many African kids had to die for that sparkle?

How am I supposed to argue with that? All humor aside, though, he's managed to convert me over to his side, and now I'm really grateful. I'm not super educated on the subject, but I  have recently learned that there are 23.5 deaths for every 100,0000 diamond mine workers. This might not seem too outrageous, but compare it to construction working, which is also considered a "dangerous" profession. In construction, there are 12.2 deaths per 100,000 workers. Most diamond mines in China operate without a safety license. Diamonds are used to finance civil wars in Africa, wars which are often fought by child soldiers. Diamond miners are disproportionately exposed to HIV and AIDS: "Many diamond mining camps enforce all-male, no-family rules. Men contract HIV/AIDS from camp sex-workers, while women married to miners have no access to employment, no income outside of their husbands and no bargaining power for negotiating safe sex, and thus are at extremely high risk of contracting HIV." (info taken from this site). Slave laborers are commonly used to cut and polish diamonds. Beyond all this, diamonds are grossly overpriced for their actual value. Their "value" comes from advertisement and social conditioning.

I'm not trying to guilt you out of your diamond, and I'm sure there are places to buy "cruelty-free" diamonds, I just haven't found any yet. I wouldn't criticize anyone for wearing one, or accuse them of any crime. It's just not something I'm choosing to participate in. And even though once upon a time I would have loved to have a diamond, I've begun to think that it really just isn't worth it. Shouldn't the meaning behind a ring be about the love, and not about the rock? I just don't think I would be comfortable knowing that my engagement ring, the representation of my love and commitment, came to me by harming others.

My birth stone (and favorite stone) is an opal, and Marshall has promised me an opal engagement ring. As far as I've been able to research (But please enlighten me if you know something I don't!), opal mining is a much more humanitarian business than diamond mining, and they are utterly beautiful and unique. I have always loved them. For me, not only does it feel like a more morally sound decision, it's kind of a way of making my love and my marriage my own, rather than following all the reality show steps to a Barbie dream wedding, do you know what I mean?

 

Picture found here.

What do you think about diamonds? Do you think I'm way off base?

What gives you the right?

This morning, a woman from the Coalition Against Family Violence came and spoke to my Women's Studies class about sexual violence. She gave a really great (albeit frightening) presentation that was extremely powerful and effective. It made me think about how much sexual assault and harassment women are exposed to all the time that we wouldn't really consider to be "all that bad" simply because it happens so often. Women are constantly being encouraged by society to believe that if they drink alcohol or dress provocatively they are "asking" to be raped, or that it's a woman's responsibility to say no and no means yes, or that men are pigs who make crude comments, but that's just life. I have known and heard about many people who made poor decisions when drunk, or have been coerced into sex they didn't really want to have, or have been inappropriately grabbed or touched in a public place. None of them would have referred to it as assault or harassment because we are so used to this mistreatment that we think it's normal.

I can't remember a time, since I've been allowed to go places on my own, that I haven't been told all the things I need to avoid, and all the things I should be afraid of. I am afraid to go out alone at night. I do carry pepper spray when I go out alone, or with my girlfriends. But why? Why don't I have the right to enjoy my life without fear? Why can a man do that and not me? Because our society says violence against women is something that is unavoidable and just a fact of life? 


I was rudely reminded of this fact when I was driving today. I had my windows down and was singing along to some Bruce Springsteen when some guys pulled up next to me at a stoplight and started cat-calling at me and trying to get me to look over. And yes, I was scared. How did I know these guys wouldn't get mad at me for not humoring them and follow me home? It sounds paranoid, but these things happen. And I hate it. Why don't I have the right to drive around town with my windows down without being harassed? Because I'm a young girl who some might find attractive, I have to keep myself out of sight? This is my body, and my being. I have the right to show it or hide it as much as I please. I was wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt. I wasn't asking for those guys to yell at me. I didn't think it was funny or flattering. And even though it seems trivial, this is just a varying degree of the type of behavior that our culture, a rape culture, allows and even promotes. That boys will be boys (read: aggressive) and girls should just do whatever they can to avoid being harmed. Well someone needs to do something about it. Someone needs to tell men and boys that it's not okay to behave this way, they are not entitled to anything (especially not my body!!!), and that they need to learn how to respect women. If we would spend time teaching this, with programs like this one, instead of teaching women how not to get raped, maybe things would change. 


So, to those guys who were trying to get my attention in the car today: You got my attention. I'm sorry you apparently didn't get enough from your dads. They should have taught you how to be real men. 

I was so inspired by our speaker to day, that I gave her my information and expressed interest in volunteering at the Coalition Against Family Violence, specifically with the rape crisis center, this summer. Maybe all of this anger, fear and frustration can turn into productivity.