Wednesday, June 13, 2012
In addition to the headache, my left eye has been twitching worse than usual. It's a bothersome, uncontrollable and relentless issue, no doubt from stress. That, combined with the frequent outbreaks of hives, are more physical irritations than I could ever wish to endure, especially considering the seven-or-more months they've been occurring. Is there anything to be done? Decrease stress?
And, really, nothing is as pervasive as my struggle with the acceptance of uncertainty. How strongly I desire to know! Yet certainty is, perhaps, the most unnatural and foreign concept of humanity; a misleading and dangerous illusion at its very best, and cataclysmic as a rule.
So I cling desperately to the only reliable certainty, Love, as a lit match in unyielding, claustrophobic darkness.
What, or whom, do I love? And for what (or whom) would I sacrifice everything? Those are heavy questions. I think I know the answer. I know what the answer ought to be, and to some degree I hold to it. To some degree, it's more of an assumption that the "correct" answer is already in practice. But beyond that, the answer that rises immediately in response, the one supported by my mind and my heart and my too-emotional self... Risk is always terrifying.
Which leads to the question, of what are you most afraid? And for that, too, I have an answer. Isn't it fundamental to humanity, to fear rejection (in whatever the context)?
I've been drinking so much water (and today, tea), which results in frequent trips to the bathroom. It's a minor nuisance, but mostly it's satisfying and brings an odd sense of pride.
And if honesty comes in conclusion, I am hurting tonight. The absence of peace is pain.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
I used to write so much. Pages upon pages filled to express myself; prose with odd little drawings in the middle, clusters of potential song lyrics with arrows drawn around, words crossed out and changed, chords and rhythms scattered around. I had forgotten all about that stuff. It was really astonishing to realize just how much there was. And these days I never write. In fact, I'm not sure there's anything I do to express or give outlet to the thoughts and emotions that fill me, that long ago filled me and have since been screaming in crowded frustration to be set free. Sometimes a thought will escape through twitter. And sometimes I'd get to sit down with one or two of my best friends to discuss certain aspects of certain things. But nothing as substantial as just sitting down with a pencil and paper, and writing until my brain is emptied. Blogging is not even the same relief. There's still certain things I censor or entirely abstain from writing. Though my audience is small, there's still certain things I don't want to risk igniting or pushing or causing unintended offense.
I used to still get some emotional release just in playing music with others. But I haven't once had the opportunity since moving. (and I'm terrified I never will get those opportunities again, short of the occasional YouTube cover happenstance for kicks with Brian.) so I no longer have that release through music.
And I can't remember the last time I've taken photographs just for the sake of having a relaxing and fun time out. I spend so much time with a camera attached to me for the sake of work, and even though I love my job, I leave the camera with work to get a break from it. I don't view it as an expression anymore, just a tool for work.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
I was thinking tonight: what if I had come to Belmont four years ago after all? I was so close - would have studied music business and trumpet... Could I have stuck with it? Or would I still have drifted to photography, and then video? It's so weird how the smallest details all add up to a drastically different path in life. I might have left Belmont after a year or two and stayed in Columbus, whereas, ironically, school at Cedarville, in the middle of miles of cornfields, OH, is somehow what got me back to Tennessee. See...
Leading worship at heritage -> worship degree at CU -> then joined gospel choir playing organ/synth -> three week Europe tour -> cheap dslr on eBay for photos to remember the trip -> falling in love with photography -> upgrading to a better dslr that coincidentally shot video -> getting very quickly involved with video -> getting a job because of video...
Meanwhile, I had gotten an admin assistant position because of the worship major at another church, dropped the worship major for audio production halfway thru freshman year. Spent sophomore year touring around the country running FOH sound, then went back to working at that church junior year to help fill the gap from my friend Mike who had moved to a new church. But because of Mike and a seemingly random occurence, I got connected via twitter with my current boss and job.
It's unreal to think of all these odd, little details, how one thing led to another, and though I never saw it coming, here I am. It's the most incredible job I could ever think of, and a year ago, I would never have even thought there was a job like this. Three months in and I still can't get over God's providence. He led the way when I was clueless about the path I was on, just stumbling along because it seemed like the right thing to do. There were even a few scary leaps, like turning down another year of touring; but I had peace through it. It just blows my mind. I know if I spent years planning and scheming, I couldn't have come up with anything half as awesome as God designed and brought me to. And there's still so much further that I don't know where He'll take me, but I'm not afraid of the unknown. My only fear is that I'll try to take control and miss something awesome.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
While at Walmart, we received a phone call. A flat tire decommissioned the other van to the side of the road, close to Nowhere In Particular, Arkansas. Mike grabbed a can of Fix-A-Flat, and we got back on the highway. We found them, though a bit further down the highway than expected, and filled the tire. After a mile of slow, cautious driving to test the tire, we stopped again to re-check it. A decision was made to drive to the next exit, where we would at least be safer while waiting for AAA or other assistance.
The next exit surprisingly had a truck and tire repair shop visible from the off-ramp. Even more surprising, for 9:30pm Nowhere In Particular, Arkansas, there was a man there. He explained that the shop had been shut down for years, but he had recently purchased it and was in the process of remodeling. It wasn't even open for business yet! But God had orchestrated all these details, and we happened to catch him at the perfect moment. He repaired the tire for a few bucks, and now we're back on the road!
Our God is ABLE!!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I don't even know where to begin. I'm so worried of coming across terribly insecure, even whiny and annoying, as though my only purpose in writing was to seek somebody's pity. I suppose I truly am insecure; timid and frightful and even paralyzed by insecurity. But the last thing I would ever want is somebody responding to this out of pity. It's that thought which almost stops me from writing in the first place. And just by writing this, I'll be suspicious, even cynical, of any changes in behavior of those around me. I'm too skeptical to believe in genuine change, certain instead it's done out of guilt.
And so maybe somebody would start to try, for a brief period, and I'd refuse to respond - cynical and suspicious. And before long, their guilt or pity would subside, and things would return to normal...
(After all, why are you only now trying? Why not before?)
I used to hate group texts. They're frustratingly impersonal, and I also began associating them with dinners where I would show up and be completely overlooked by a dozen people for an hour.
One time, as a "test" of sorts, I responded, telling the sender I would for sure be there. (For conflicting schedules, or simply not wishing to be alone in a crowd, I rarely every came anyway.) I sat and watched from a fair distance as they all met up and left; not waiting for me, nobody trying to check on me to see if I was coming... I had no value to them at all.
Before I came to school, I cooked for these people every week for ten weeks straight. I drove over an hour each way, paying for everything out of my own pocket. Now please don't think I did this to earn anything from them. Giving is just how I live. But to be disregarded, left feeling worthless to them and unappreciated; I just couldn't keep trying after having given so much of myself away and having no more value to them than the day before we met.
And then unfolds a year and a half of story, too much to explain now, but which has shaped me more than any of the repeating relational wrecks that make up my life combined. (And I mean relational in a broader sense; not specifically that of dating relationships.) There's no way to describe just how impossibly never-will-be-good-enough this left me feeling. There's so much more, but I just don't want to get into that.
So here I am in current time. All I want is to feel like a valuable part in a group; not taken for granted, nor taken advantage of. I don't want people to want me around because I take good pictures, or because I cook for them, or because of anything else I do. I want people to want me around, just because they like me. I can't remember feeling that since marching band in high school. That was four years ago, and it's been two years since having anything I could even label as "group".
And now I miss those group texts...
My birthday sucked this year. I went to class, I shot some photos for a theater thing, and then sat around my house by myself. Brian made me brownie-cookies around 10 or 11 that night. Do you have any idea how totally miserable it was, to go my entire birthday, and know hundreds of people here at school, and literally the only person who did ANYTHING for me was one of the three guys living with me? I will say, a pan of brownies has never meant more to me than those, but that day sucked. I've had a lot of bad days, but going almost entirely unacknowledged on my birthday really wrecks it all. And that's something nobody can take back...
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Music is often touted as one of the most powerful methods of communicating, whether it's a message or an emotion or something entirely different. It's quite interesting, too, how many memories can be associated with music: come across an old song on the radio or just browsing through iTunes, and suddenly memories from five years ago come streaming back strong enough to put me there.
Normally that's awesome. I'll just jump into the antithesis you're probably now expecting. I heard a lot of really awesome music this past year, especially this past summer. Some of it, especially the song "Fireflies", I really got into before it hit mainstream popularity. Now it's right in the middle of its huge wave (not to mention a few other songs, heard and now played similarly frequently all around me, out of my control). All of the memories associated with such songs have turned to some of the most painful and bitter heartbreak. When those songs come across the radio or are played by a neighboring room in the dorm or a store I'm in or any other place I can't avoid it, these memories stream in as strong as ever, accompanied by the pain of broken hopes.
I started to wonder, with the seeming unavoidability (new word?) of these songs, can I force new memories upon them? Even if I never fully enjoy them like I used to, this would at least keep them from sending my mind to thoughts that buoy depression. Well, I'm trying. It's my goal to re-associate the song "Fireflies" with new memories of winter; a chill in the air, a cloudless, starry night, driving fast on back roads and rocking out loud by myself.
I just read a brief study that says emotional memories are rendered vulnerable to change each time they are retrieved. I need to know it's possible.
I need to know I can stop this, even if I can't erase it altogether.