In-Betweenness

So I'm sitting here thinking about a conversation my sister and I had yesterday, albiet briefly:

We simply checked in with each other to see how the world was revolving in each other's respective universe when she asked me if I'd found a new job yet.

Of course my answer was no but that I'd come across a couple of opportunities some friends had introduced me to and I'm getting more information about the application process. So I said something like:

"I'm between opportunities right now."

Now that may not seem like such a signifcant phraseology, but it then occurred to me that I'm in all sorts of in-betweenness. I'm in the middle of a bridge that starts in one place then leads to somewhere new, no matter how positive or negative. I'm in between work opportunities. I'm in between two books. I'm in between my 20's. I'm in between seeing myself as a teenager and as a woman. I'm smack dab in the middle of spiritual growth. I have this sort of double consciousness going on right now (and yes that's a nod to W.E.B. DuBois. Please check out Souls of Black Folks.)

The way I see it, I'm in preparation mode for something else. It's pretty easy to see how being "in between" can be a cause for negative thinking. I mean, at some point, it seems as if you aren't going anywhere. You could just be stagnant and waiting for the tide to bull you over just for the sake of movement.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't want to remain in this state. I actually do want to reach my goals and accomplish a few things before I reach the next state of in-betweenness, but I don't necessarily see this time as a bad thing.

In-betweenness isn't just a rest stop; it's preparation.

Here I Go Again

Hello, world! I've been a little bit busy lately (and sometimes not so busy) and that's why I haven't blogged. There's not much to update on mainly because I've used other outlets for mental, emotional, and spiritually release. But don't think I'll ever leave the blogosphere. I appreciate the audience. I appreciate the space. Peace out and have a blessed day!

TTYL

P.S. Check out my other pages. If I haven't written anything on the main page, there's usually something new on one of my subpages.

A New Perspective

Well, it's been a while since my last post, so I wanted to check in with the rest of the world and give you and update on the happenings of me.

Everything is going well. I haven't accomplished somethings just yet, but I'm in a better head space and keeping myself busy. I'm praying more, reading more, and walking in a sense of soberness. I'm trying to be more observant than usual. I'm seeking wisdom on somethings and I'm generally feeling good.

I don't like to throw around the words expectant, happy, or content unless I really am. I wouldn't say I'm entirely in those places just yet, but I'm on the road to openness. I'm taking my words to heart now. I interned for a month at a local newspaper. I enjoyed it but I needed to get my focus back on what is important on a more personal level. That's what I'm doing now. I'm taking the time to relearn myself, God, and our relationship. I'm having to relearn friendships. I'm relearning my hometown. I'm walking in a newness. Now that doesn't mean I don't have my moments of confusion or doubt; I'm just working on not remaining in those spaces.

One thing I have learned is that results aren't based on our circumstances, but on how we respond to those circumstances.

I just hope I can keep that outlook long enough to see more change for the better.

2011: The Year of the Not So Expected, but Then Again...

I don't know if I expect much from this year. I initally hadn't given it much thought so I wasn't looking forward to Jan. 1. I'm not exactly excited about this year, but I am in a different headspace. I figure I can make steps toward my future and actually make the effort to have an iota of faith that something will work out in my favor. As someone once said, failure isn't forever. We only fail when we stop trying to succeed. I'd made it to the destination last year. 2010 was a blur of lack of accomplishments, something I wasn't used to. Some of it was because things didn't work out naturally. Other times it was because I didn't want to take the chance to believe that the next thing would work out.

Now I'm aking the effort to be more open, prayerful, trusting of God, and setting goals everyday and at least 3 goals every month to keep myself occupied. I've actually accomplished 2 goals already. That's a good thing. I would hate to say I'm optimistic because of the weight that word carries. Let's just say I'm not as pessimistic as I was two weeks ago.

I have my head screwed on a little bit straigther. I'm still trying to find God in all of this. I see a little bit of him everyday, so that keeps me going. It's all about making the decision to seek God in whatever situation we're in. I wasn't a fan of the philosophy, but that only drowned me in a deeper depression so I decided that as much as I was tired of working so hard to get my foot in somebody' door, I was even more emotionally exhausted. I needed a change.

I hope 2011 will be much different. I've made a prayer list.

I'll let you know when I scratch some things off.

The Never Ending Pessimist

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/life/whole-life/features/23414-pessimists-never-win

So I just read this article from Relevant Magazine online (gotta love it!). There are always thought provoking articles that make me consider life, God, and who I am as a person.  The article linked above got me to thinking about what it means to be a pessimist. (I recommend this as a great thought provoking read)

That got me to thinking:

Why choose optimism over pessimism?

The article basically a discussion of the difference between an optimistic frame of mind versus a pessimistic one. Optimists usually see certain situations as an obstacle to overcome rather an an immediate defeat. Optimistis prefer to see life through a lense of hope rather than doubt and immediate negativity. Pessimists on the other hand are very distrusting (at least it seems to me) of positive thinking and pretty much expect the worst case scenario. They usually see things as not only a moment of defeat, but in some ways defeat that leasts well into perpetuity. They tend to beat themselves up.

Then I realized, I'm probably the co-captain of Team Pessimistic. And I first realized how pessimistic I was when i was in about the 7th grade.  It's something that comes very natural to me.  I prefer pessimism over optimism. Let me tell you.

As crazy as it may sound, I'm not a big fan of optimism. There's a certain amount of dillusion that I'm not accustomed to. I'd rather prepare for the worst or be emotionally numb that expect a positive outcome. The reason why is because usually the negative happens and I've been disappointed countless times that I don't to take the chance on being crushed yet again. Not necessarily the best way to live, but it's a whole lot safer than taking too many chances on too many things that prove to be worthless or maybe not the best fit.

I guess you could say I'm a "cautious pessimistic." I'd rather prepare for the worst and wait and see what will happen. Sometimes I hope to be proven wrong. But the majority of the time I know something's not right. Self-preservation is my main concern. Whether it comes to relocating, starting a new career, networking, or what have you. I don't like to "put myself out there" just like the next person.

So pessimism is my drink of choice and I don't really want to get another.

A bit sad if you think about it, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

I've had to apologize way too much over the past few years.

Okay, Let Me Be Honest

Okay, I think I was lying in my last post.

Well, not so much lying as much as not really stating the truth. Just bypassing it in an effort to not drudge up past emotions, memories, or disappointments/discouraging thoughts.

But let me be honest:

I'm still not happy. I continue to question myself, my motives, my passions, my God (even though I'm not supposed), the relevance/validity of this economic crisis (not to say that it's not a real, visible concern, but I have my conspiracy theories), my lack of interest in romantic connections, my lack of desire for parenting, and the like.

I can say one thing though, this whole last year and a half has given me a lot of time to consider all of these things. I like to think, but I'm getting tired of just considering these things. I'd rather be working and taking care of myself.

But I was talking with a dear dear friend today, and it finally occurred to me to just finally allow myself to be honest about where I am and where I've been going since the last month of my relocation. Time has flown by so fast that I haven't really allowed myself to recognized the truth because I've been afraid to relieve the last year and half all over again.

I guess that with every relocation or new beginning, I'd like to hope for the best and think I made the right decision. It's been a month and once again, I'm questioning my ability to do what's right for me. It's almost like I don't know what's right for me. And what I have in my head has become so unattainable over the last year that I question if that's really what I'm supposed to be doing. That's difficult in itself when you have such a great passion for something, but can't seem to even get your toe an inch away from the threshhold.

So once again, I don't really know what to do or what God has for me. Sometimes I wonder if He's really listening. Sometimes I want to cry and scream. Sometimes I'm tired of reiterating my discontent. Sometimes I feel like a failure. Sometimes I'm tired of thinking about all this. Sometimes I think dillusion would be better.

I wish I wasn't so cynical or opinionated or realistic or inquisitive. It would probably save me a lot of heart and headache.

Bonjour

Hello, world! I know I haven't talked to you in practically two months, but I just wanted to check in. Life has been a little bit crazy lately. (Crazy is subjective.) Anyway, here's an update:

I've moved (yet again).
Trying to get settled (yet again).
Trying to figure out life (yet again).
Looking to God for guidance (always, but I think I could do more).

That's what's up.

Mind of the Tiger

http://www.bing.com/videos/watch/video/new-katt-williams-killed-by-a-tiger/a94a57e3d9bd0c12fc84a94a57e3d9bd0c12fc84-280436277307?q=katt%20williams%20and%20tiger&FORM=VIRE3


So I had a conversation about this clip with a friend of mine and we both came to the conclusion that what Katt Williams said was quite profound.
 
I've felt rather caged and held hostage over the past year and a half. I've suffered some great disappointments which I've allowed to lead me into this place of paralyzing fear. Not just nerves and anxiety about the unexpected. But I've come to this place where as much as I want to progress, I'm afraid to take the first step to do so because I don't what to relive the same incidents in the past.
 
Then I got to thinking: Why haven't I broken free (in the Beth Moore sense of explaining it)? All this is based on fear and assumption. Fear of the unknown. The assumption of the worst. The fear of rejection and the assumption of it beforehand. For someone who's so desperate to be free, I'm scared to actually be free. Freedom requires will power and the might of fight. I've lost that and don't really want to regain it because I'm so tired of fighting and trying to maintain this will power.
 
It also donned on me that I am this tiger Williams is talking about. I've been waiting for someone who's dumb enough (or even smart enough) to unlock the cage. I'm just wondering if that person who unlocks the cage has to be me.
 
I guess I want someone else to unleash and save me.

A Risk Taker I Am Not

https://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/deeper-walk/blog/22921-breaking-out-of-our-cages

So, I'm sitting here reading from Relevant Magazine online when I came across the above linked article about risk taking and creating a leash of comfort and stability.

The author said this:  "We literally sew the leash thread by thread with each methodical decision we make in order to maintain order. It feels so good while we are knitting it together that we don’t even see it coming—the absolute domestication of our inner beings. We were born for the jungle. We live to build our own cages. Something has gone terribly wrong when our leashes become our comfort rather than our horror. "

I read that and I thought about a conversation I had with a friend about "This Monster I Created" and "The Good Girl Experience." Allow me to explain.

I've lived a very limited and restrained life as I've discussed a plethora of times. I enjoyed order because many times there wasn't any. I enjoyed controll because those who were the leaders failed. I chose distance because it was somewhat safer than participating in any kind of intimacy. And all this is wrapped in a red bow of fear. I've walked away from, never tried, and given up on many things because of this fear.

And someone once called me a fighter and fearless.

Then I realized that over the past year and a half, I've loss that sense of fearlessness and I understand that I'm not the little risk taker I thought I was. Sure I've ridden the scariest rollercoasters, moved somewhere with now friends and only $36 in pocket. I've done some things that would frighten others and yet I'm not a risk taker because I've allowed this "leash" of stability and limitations hold me hostage.

I've become the dog who wants to run free but is afraid to leave the yard.

I told a friend that I wanted to tap into the idea of inhibitions, nudity (in as many forms that it can come), and I wanted to live a sort of burlesque, artistic, liberal lifestyle with the friends and surroundings to match. But if I want that so bad, why can't a tap into being a risk taker that actually trusts God to know best and trust myself to be that risk taker who actually trusts God?

I've had a slew of consecutive disappoints over the last year and a half, not to mention a lifetime of it that I didn't really allow myself to deal with until now. And even now, I'm not exactly dealing with these memories. I just wish I could change them.

I've lost the drive to be a risk taker. I've lost the joy of trusting God. I've lost the desire to keep fighting. That's why I remain in this stagnant place for the most part. I've done all I knew how to do and now I'm tired.

I don't want to take any risks anymore.

Don't Wanna Breathe; Just Wanna Live

I'm sitting here thinking about yet another transition in my ongoing struggle with the lack of progression and a sense of restlessness within myself. Then it dawned on me:

For the many things I am grateful for, they aren't enough.

Now, don't throw eggs on my face just yet. What I mean by this is I'm thankful for so many things. I'm saving some money. I have a family. I have friends that have become extended family. I'm not starving. I'm learning something new just about everyday. And I'm breathing.

But that's just it. That's it.

I'm not excited about life like I used to be. I'm not as excited about meeting new people like I used to be. I'm not excited about building on present relationships like I used to be.

Then this just came out of my mouth mere moments before I started typing this:

"I want something to wake up to every morning outside of just breathing. I'm tired of breathing; I want to live."

That pretty much sums up what I think has been brewing inside of me over the last two years. It's not a matter of being ungrateful and not seeing the forest for the trees. It's a matter of understanding what makes me happy and what keeps me satisfied, and nothing has. I'm just waking up every morning wishing I could go back to sleep. I don't like leaving the house most days. I'm not excited about my new move and I'm scared to death what happened here and before will happen there.

I guess I'm afraid I'll suffocate if I can't get to happy.

I don't like just breathing.

I want to have something to live for, too.

An Abundant Life: The Lack Thereof

John 10:10

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

I read this scripture and it occurred to me that as much as Christ came to give us an abundant life, it eludes many of us, including myself. I mean, think about it: what does abundance mean to us and how come we're not living it? We can blame the economy, family history, illness, and the general state of the world. Those are all understandable barriers to abundant living. But if Christ came to save and deliver us, then can he not break those barriers? Can he not give us just a glimpse of His greatness? Wasn't His salvation enough. Sadly, for a lot of us, I don't think it is. Do we really want to have an abundant life?

I'm one of those people who finds solace in things, not necessarily people all the time. I tire of people easily, but I somehow manage to develop a relationship with the abstract. The arts. Expression. I guess it's my drug of choice. When I forget all else and drown in a good book, a fashion show, a beautiful movie, and even a drag show, I get this high I suppose addicts get. (okay maybe not that extreme.) But I got lost in these things and they inspire new creative ideas and a new way of thinking about different topics and experiences. There is an abundance of freedom. Then I had a thought:

Why don't I have that same abundance of life when it comes to my religious faith? Why am I not that jazzed about the Gospel? How come I don't get butterflies in my stomach about Christ? I used to. Then reality set in and I chose to be a realist over the commitment to have faith in the unseen and the things to come. I guess sometimes having faith seems so childish and being mature means being prepared. Babes don't question; men do. And that's when intellect gets in the way. I know it has in my case. Then we let it hold us hostage.

I'm not so sure we always want to be free. It's easier to hold ourselves hostage than to go on the path of revelation and action. We can be the victims for a change. It's self preservation that only preserves lack. Then you hear those random stories of people who are having a difficult time, but still trust God. They are living abundantly because they choose to lean on him and give Him their dreams. These stories always annoyed me because I couldn't understand how these people could live and believe beyond their circumstances. Maybe some of it was jealousy. Even now.

And I've realized one thing: I'm not allowing Him to give me the abundant life, whatever it is. Perhaps we have different versions.

Self-Disappointment

I realized the main reason why I'm so upset and disappointed with my current circumstances is because I'm disappointed in myself for allowing this to happen. Sure, my power is finite and there are only so many good and bad things I can do, but just knowing that my efforts didn't do very much is painful. I've lived this restrained, limited, and conservative life expecting bigger things to happen and they haven't. Or at least they have, but I didn't take the opportunity to live in them. I expected my life to turn out like somebody elses. But then again, I'm different. I will always stick out like a sore thumb, so why exptect a conventional life experience?

I've given up on things. I've never tried things. I've backed away from life in many ways. And I'm angry at myself for doing that. As much as I've had some wonderful experiences others haven't, I still fill unfulfilled because I haven't let go. I haven't entirely let go of preconceived expectations I set for myself when I was 12. I haven't let go of my fears. I feel held hostage in a lot of ways. Some of it is my own doing. That's the hardest thing to get past when I'm trying to heal. How do I get beyond myself?

Strength to the Weary, Power to the Weak

Is. 40:29-31

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

I was just sitting here pondering this Scripture. It's uplifting to know that we have a Father who knows/understands our weakness and doesn't hold it against us. He is the ultimate symbol and manifestation of strength and sustenance. Life would be empty without Him. Then I thought about how I have and haven't necessarily applied this scripture to my own life. I'm wondering why I can't break free from of my own weariness and weakness because I have grown tired and I have fallen.

We've got the world fooled, some of us Christians. We paint this portrait of endless power, joy, and completeness, but we don't share how we struggle. We don't share our testimonies. We don't walk naked and honest about our struggles and hardships. Some of us are quick to look down on fellow believers who are suffering from addictions, depression, anger, etc. Then we wonder why many people don't have much respect for us and our God. We don't talk about how we're not sure when or if "it will be okay." We don't talk about the dread we wake up with every morning. We don't talk about the loneliness. We don't talk about how gradual the healing process is. I used to think we could just pick up and move on until I had my own breaking point. We don't talk about how we have our own existential crises. Sometimes we make others feel as if their feelings about an issue or experience are unworthy of consideration. I think in our efforts to be spiritually strong, we confuse that with natural strength but want to call it the Holy Spirit. We think telling people to be strong and pray is the antidote, but don't tell people how long it may take to retain that strength. Sometimes I get the impression that some Christians use the faith as the one time cure all when it's not. Christianity is a journey and a relationship that evolves. There are days we don't want to get out of bed. There are days we are weary. Times when we are disappointed with ourselves. Times when depression lasts are year longer than we expected.

But I know one thing: I have a Father who loves me and knows my pain. He knows how I sometimes feel alone in my struggles to overcome my fears. He knows I get tired and want to give up. He sees me naked everyday. He gets me. He even gave me a brother and an extra helper to keep me going. That's comforting some days. Then some days it's not. But I guess what matters most is that He is our strength and our power when we are at our weakest moments. Even when these moments last for over a year, it's but a blink of an eye to Him and restoration is on the way. He knows how I hunger for release and reinvention. He knows how I suffer from my own disappointments. He knows what I am passionate about. He knows where I lack experience.

I guess the strength and power comes from remembering that He knows us by our first and last names.

Let the Right One Out: Black Girl in Bondage

If you're a movie buff like me, you'll see that this post's title is an homage to the Swedish suspence drama Let the Right One In. The film is about a developing relationship between two of the most melancholy tweens I've ever seen in my life. It's heavily intense, but I recommend it if you want to experience the unexpected and be drawn into something outside of yourself. A U.S. version of the film will be released sometime this year I do believe.

I was sitting her thinking about this film and a book I read years ago but most recently have picked up again called Black Girl in Paris. The book is about an African American 20-something who moves to Paris to live the lives of her most cherished black authors, especially James Baldwin. Both of these contributions to the artistic world got me to thinking about who I want to be and how I envision myself in the future. They've inspired me to construct a future, but the problem is I'm not happy with my present so the future seems light years away.

Let the Right One Out: I've lived a fairly controlled, restrained, and limited experience. I pride myself on being honest and out-spoken, but for the most part, I've lived a carbon-copy experience. I did what I was supposed to do. I went to church. I prayed. I made good grades. I stayed out of trouble. I was the head of the pack. I got involved in church. I didn't date. I didn't stay out past curfew. I went to school. I didn't complain. I wasn't a problem child. I look back at all these things and I see how much I didn't allow myself to really be a child or a teenager. I'm not saying I had the most horrendous upbringing, but I did all these things thinking they'd get me somewhere as an adult. I played it safe and created a monster people believed in: I was the good girl. I played the smart one. People expected me to go places and be something. I have a mind like no other. A relative once told my mom that I was gonna be something someday. She seemed excited and impressed. A friend told me I was the smartest person she knows. And all the compliments in the world don't mean a thing because I'm playing a role I thought I was supposed to play and didn't ask to be any different. I always knew I was a bit of an oddball. I always saw things differently than my peers. I've always had an overactive imagination. And sadly I haven't acted on any of this. I wrote a script for myself that has been thrown away and is waiting to be written.

I want to be a new me. Well, not so much a new me, but the me I've always been but kept stifled for fear of some puritanical judgment. I'm not the most modest or conservative person. And I don't desire to be anymore. I'm can be crude, lewd, outrageous. I think drag queens are beautiful. Retro fetishistic imagery is art to me and divorced from eroticism. I feel for the gay community. I believe in fairness. I want to be the black version of Dita Von Teese and show that black beauty comes in so many wonderful and lush forms. I'm open to dating outside my racial identity group. In fact, when I was younger, I invisioned my husband to be something exotic to me and he spoke a language I'd want to learn and he wasn't necessarily black. I want to wear netted veils across my fash and fishnets with back seams. I want to wear vintage clothes for the rest of my life. I want to go to a gay bar just for the heck of it. I saw a beautiful glass blown penis one time and thought whenever I get a house, I'll put one in the foyer to great my guests as they remove the shoes at the door. I want to live somewhere in Europe where nudity isn't some over eroticized commodity, but a natural human state.

I want to let this person out because she is the right one. I haven't because I've allowed Christian expectations to keep me stifled. I can't do this or that because it's "ungodly." Some of that may even be true, but I'm still letting other people determine who I should be just for the sake of their own comfort. I want to live with artists (filmmakers, writers, painters, dancers) and drink red wine for breakfast. I want to visit a nude beach where being naked isn't sinful. I actually want to go and visit people in the fetish scene. I don't believe sexuality and my religion should be divorced from each other. I'm just like everyone else: I don't want to be judged. I want to be the right me. I was thinking about Under the Tuscan Sun the other day and there was one character I loved the most: Katherine played by Lindsay Duncan. I remember when I saw I her, I wanted to be like her. Here she was the carefree woman who was sumptuous and happy. She was sensual and artistic. She enjoyed life. She had a bit of a pitfall in the movie, but she bounced back and fell even more in love with Tuscany.

That's the kind of existence I long for.

Black Girl in Bondage: That's who I am. Maybe I should contact Shay Youngblood to get free. I bought this book when I was 18 or 19. The title and the book cover struck me as something artistic and would tell a story I wanted to live in. When I first read Black Girl In Paris, I was impressed by the heroine's experience, even thought it wasn't always the best. I admired her for just leaving and creating a new life for herself, but I didn't think I'd ever want that experience so much until now. I started reading it again and it spoke volumes to me about who I am now and who I want to be. There's one line that made me want to cry: "I needed a map to help me find love and language, and since one didn't exist, I'd have to invent one, following the trails and signs left by other travelers. I didn't knoow what I wanted to be, but I knew I wanted to be the kind of woman who was bold, took chances, and had adventures. I wanted to travel around the world. it was my little-girl dream" (Youngblood, 3). I read that and I knew someone understand what it was like to want to be the entirety of who you are and to see life as a breathing artform. Then I started thinking about all these artistic things I'd been a part of and why I never continued them.

When I was a little girl, I used to make journals to chronicle my days and give them to my mother to read. My cousin and I used to learn dances from music videos and perform them for relatives. I wanted to be like Mariah Carey. I wrote poems and songs. I wrote stories I never finished. I started sketching in high school and hard an artist friend who said I was pretty good. Someone once thought another art kid drew a picture I presented as a visual aid for discussions about teen sexuality. I was accepted into a theater program my senior year in high school. Before I auditioned for the teachers, I previewed my monologue for students who'd been in the program for years. One of them said, "Now that's acting." I learned to sneeze on cue for the end of the year play Alice in Wonderland. Before I was accepted for the concert choir, the director worked with me and a few students for vocal lessons after school. I couldn't continue after a while, but the director believed in my voice. He really did. But I did become a mezzosoprano for the choir. I sang for classes at random because somebody heard I could sing. I did one talent show, but didn't do another because I didn't want to get booed again. I was accepted to a small Christian college with a scholarship to study theater, but I didn't go because I believed God wanted me somewhere else. I didn't even really want to go to that school. I thought I was supposed to. A sorority sister told me I was so beautiful that I should be in a pageant or something. Another sorority sister from another chapter said I should be an actress. In college, a friend said I had an anointing on my voice. I used to let people read my poetry.

Then one day I stopped. I stopped writing. I stopped reading. I stopped performing. I realized why I didn't continue these things: I thought they were fantasies and my colleagues were better than I was. I didn't believe I had the passion for these things. I didn't think I was good enough even though I thoroughly enjoyed these things. When I was in that play, I thought I would be nervous. But I went out on staage and forgot about them in a way. I was still aware that I was performing for them, but I felt free to be a fool. It felt normal and right. And real. One of my teachers said on a progress report that I had so much potential, but I wasn't letting go. She was right. Then I did what I was "supposed" to do. I went to school and got 2 degrees and I still don't feel fulfilled. I'm a Black Girl in Bondage.

I want a new life somewhere else. I want to be free.

An Inconvenient Existence: Sour Milk

So I have been having this thought over the past week: My current space and time has led me to believe that my presence is inconvenient. Before you start calling the cops because you think I'm about to commit suicide, let me explain. What I mean is where I am in life (literally and figuratively) has caused me to evaluate my aspirations and the road that leads to them. Then it dawned on me that being in the physical location that I am has been the main reason why I feel trapped and emotionally/mentally/creatively stifled. It's like I'm living in an internal gated community and suffering to hell to try to find a way out. And because of all this, I think my being here is not only a major waste of my time and hopes; it literally is an inconvenient existence. Allow me to further explain.

Without reliable transportation, my hope of getting a better paying job is practically a figment of my imagination because most of the these jobs are in the city. Also, you have to travel almost an hour to get anywhere. Not to mention I get the impression from certain people that my presence is inconvenient sometimes because it may intrude upon their daily routines and plans. That's baffling to me and is one of the major reasons why I hate where I live. Now, I'm not saying people should give up there lives just because I walked into the room, but it makes it hard to be happy where you are when you feel as if you're getting in the way. I don't feel like I'm accomplishing anything here and really regret coming. That's an odd thing to say because I don't really believe in regrets. You live and you learn. But this 6 month experience has taught me that I have a life full of regrets and one of them was coming here. I came here to be inconvenient. That's sad.

I moved to get away from a really dark place (figuratively and literally) and then stepped into another one. And then arose the feelings of inadequacy, hopelessness, fear, and extended depression. The irony of all this is that I moved to find a way to heal from all the emotions I just listed and then ended up living right back in them. That's the crazy thing. Moving meant a fresh start and a new life and I'm always wondering will I see in a new and better light if I move again. The scary thing is I'm not quite sure. Will I move to the next place and still feel inconvenient? Will I continue to go through this existential crisis? Will I reach my goal of having a concrete plan by the end of the year? I don't know. And that scares me worse than feeling inconvenient. The worst part of all this is I believe in this inconvenience. My being here is inconvenient. I don't have the support system I need. I don't have my friends that have become my family. I'm stagnant. I feel like I'm that carton of milk that's been sitting in the back of the refrigerator because someone forgot to drink me. I'm sitting here wasting away and will soon be thrown out. I'm sour milk that can't seem to make it's way out of the fridge.

Bruce Almighty: An Unappreciated Epiphany

I just looked up TV listings for what comes on tonight and came across Bruce Almighty. This, along with the always disgruntled journal entry I've been repeating for Lord knows how long, led me to a sort of epiphany: maybe I'm living "The Bruce Almighty Effect" and the moral of the story is one should be happy in whatever state she's in.

That was sourly unappreciated because I'm wondering how to muster the ability to be content or happy in a situation you've never been content or happy in? Okay, so as the movie goes, Bruce is upset with God because he thinks God isn't giving him his heart's desires because he isn't as well respected as his colleague Evan. He wants to be taken seriously and his comedy riddled news spots are cherished, but Bruce wants respect by doing more serious stories. He wants Evan's job and is embittered when Evan makes snide remarks about Bruce. Then God gives Bruce HIS powers so Bruce can understand what it's like to be the Almighty One. Apparently, it's hard work as Bruce tries to use his supernatural powers while also trying to reconcile that with his own human impossibilities. By the end of the movie, Bruce and God grow closer and Bruce understands that God gave him the gift of comedy to lift HIS people up. The moral of the story is to appreciate the gifts God gives us and not to want what others have because we don't know what these people went through to get that. How does this apply to me you say?

Honestly, I don't know. I'm not living in a Bruce Almighty world. If I want what someone else has it's a career that involves what I'm passionate about, but that's it. I don't want a luxury car or a big house. I don't want a husband with God knows how many children and a laborador comfortably protected by a pristine white picket fence. I just want a job I enjoy and an apartment. I don't even want a car made in the last 20 years. I just want what can be affectionately labeled as my own stuff.

So the question is, are my circumstances God's way of saying be content with where you are? I can't be content with nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm settling for a headache and the slight smirk I perform with when I'm trying not to come off as ungrateful. Then part of me doesn't really think or believe I'm grateful. To me, to be grateful means to walk in thanksgiving and to be "content" with the circumstances. I'm not doing either really. It's hard to walk in some some sense of gratitude and happiness when you don't see the things that make you happy or grateful.

So here I am no closer to any natural, mental, emotional, or spiritual grounding that I expected to have by this time. As a matter of fact, I didn't expect any of this; I expected a job in arguably the worst economy since Black Tuesday. Even with all that said, if I'm truly a child of God, then why am I going through this anyway? I mean, life happens. Outside forces make their way into our lives. But if I'm such an "overcomer," then why am I not overcoming this?

Part of me thinks that if I move to another location, things will get better. That sad truth is I've already made that mistake, so why repeat it? I guess I hope that I can be free once I get to that physical location. But if I can get free now, then how can I do that in the future?

I also realized that I would be in the same situation if I hadn't gone to grad school. It seems this was destined to happen all along. You'd think that would be somewhat comforting, but it's not. It just means it took a couple more years for nothing to set in than originally expected. This all takes a toll on my self-esteem. Just knowing this would've happened anyway is honestly depressing. That even if this happened three years ago and I still did all I could, I would still be in this same situation baffles me. I still would be living with relatives in a place I never wanted to return to and still not know what to do or how to begin a career. Which means, this still would've happened in a healthy economy. That's absolutely disgusting.

So the problem is me and nothing else. And this epiphany is still much unappreciated.

I don't know: irrelevance or is it?

I'm not really sure what to write today. Every other time seemed to be measured by purpose, but today is all about spontaneity I guess. I've been searching for some sense of adventure for the last year and this seems to be all that I could muster up so far. So bear with me if this post seems a bit scatterbrained. I don't have any control.

I don't know what to talk about today. Maybe I could just be a mindless drone and post stuff about celebrities. Or maybe discuss the human injustices of the world without actually doing anything. I mean, isn't that we're known for in this country? Or maybe I'll discuss some topic for which I have no knowledge of. That's the thing about human nature: we can be so self-righteous in our own since of oblivion and we perish for lack of knowledge (Hosea 4:6). Well, at least God's people do.

I think we've (okay, maybe just me) have gotten so used to acquiring knowledge that we've forgotten the journey of understanding what we've obtained. Or even worse, we get into these ideological debates without actually knowing what the hell we're talking about. It's a war of mindless words. I mean read the newspaper (omg, those things still exist?!) or watch Fox news (especially) or some other newsgatherer. Oh, you don't have to go that far. Start a conversation about a controversial topic and actually listen to the answers you'll get. No, wait. Don't just listen; watch the reactions (the shifting eyes, the tense mouths, the arms folded over the chests, the elevated pitches, etc.). And if you're watching/listening close enough, you'll realize these people are having melodramatic responses without any real educated dialogue. Trust me; I've done it many a times. I guess that's why I'm making an effort to keep my mouth shut on some topics. I'm outraged by my own snobbery. For someone who has so many issues with my own country/society/culture, I've shamefully admitted to myself that I'm very much a product of it. But what can you do? Move to another country and become a part of it?

I actually have been thinking of moving out of the country for a while. There goes that sick need for an Eat, Pray, Love experience. I'm sure I won't meet any desirable, interesting men and eat nothing but carbs, but Julia Roberts and Elizabeth Gilbert have been a recent source of inspiration.

Then again, this all seems somewhat irrelevant. I'm having an irrelevant conversation with myself with no one listening as usual. My cynicism is beginning to run a little low and I'm wondering about the relevance of that, too. Or maybe this conversation with myself is the continuance of self-discovery. But it does seem that this will never end and I will always be stuck in the same stagnant state I've been in for almost a year and half. It makes me wonder if I'm missing some mark somewhere. I guess I need an eharmony page for my destiny. I'm still trying to discover it. Wherever it is?

I've just realized this post is more about looking for some sense of self, adventure, relevance, completion, and fulfillment. Well, maybe this isn't as irrelevant as I thought.

25 Years and Nothing's Happened

Hello, world. This post is two weeks in the making.

I've grown a year older and I thought life was supposed to be different. Then it dawned on me that it wasn't.Then I realized how angry I've been because I felt like I was lied to. That was depressing. I spent my birthday being depressed for most of the day. I've never really liked to celebrate my birthday because the whole hoopla is kind of invasive, but then I really realized that turning 25 isn't all it's cracked up to be. I didn't do anything I was "supposed" to do by this birthday. And that's when the realization set in. I don't like the way my life has turned out and I'm still trying to figure out how to maintain contentment and make the move to somewhere else.

Insecurity... In General

Oh, how therapeutic this is.

Well, to a certain extent.

I woke up this morning with the strangest idea that if I want to accomplish something, I need to set acheivable goals to meet. Oh, wow. This is an ingenious idea that never occurred to me or I think to most people.

I'm one of those strange people that just does stuff or the dominoes seem to fall perfectly into sequence. But that all changed last year and I'm now in the process of rediscovering lost passions. Let me rephrase that; the passions where never lost, they were just stiffled by university life.

It occurred to me that if I want to be a writer I'll have to take some writing classes or read books on the process and craft. I'll have to write everyday and submit things to journals or magazines (which I did about an hour ago. I'll let you know what happens). I'll have to stop waiting for things to happen. I realized that's mostly what I do. I just wait. And wait. I guess I'm still waiting for God to make my decisions for me.

I thought about contests I could've entered when I was younger, meetings I could have attended, people I could've actually taken the time to talk to. I could've entered that poetry contest. I could've gone to film school if it hadn't donned on me until recently. I could've gone out on a date with that guy (you know, whatshisname).

Some say we shouldn't live in the land of the shoulda, coulda, wouldas, but if we don't, we won't take stock in the experiences we've missed out on. If we don't, then we don't take a chance on our future. We just keep rolling because we don't want to face the realization that most often we are the ones that hold ourselves back. At least that's some of the truth for me.

People think I'm so confident about myself and my future. That's not entirely true. I'm just as insecure as the next person, if not more. Now, I have to create the next step instead of just waiting for it to appear under my feet.

Neuroses is the New Black

Oh yes, there is a fashion trend that is re-emerging since the finale of Sex and the City: It's Neuroses. And I mean neuroses about everything. No wonder I'm still in a box.

What I mean by all this is I always knew I was a bit on the neurotic side, but it occurred to me last week some time that I think I may have gone overboard. Especially as it pertains to career and relationships aka sharing romantic space with some dude (as if he would be that random).

I've always been pretty cautious. Now I'm uber cautious with a big umlaut. I'm not just wondering if the pots overhead will fall on top of me, but wondering if I'll meet I guy that wants to have kids when I don't and will he mind if I give up for adoption. I'm also wondering if I'll end up in a cardboard box vs. living in my sister's house well into my early 30s. All this most likely stems from something way back when...

I'm a control freak. I won't even let Jesus in on an administrative decision. A lot of things have gone wack in my life starting from childhood. The folks broke up due to a little thing called voluntary pharmaceutical misuse, a lack of an economic stimulus package, the disordered experience of single parent living, and a plethora of other family drama.

And now there's me in my 20s trying to pray and work my way beyond all this stuff. And that's when I discovered how anxious and paranoid I am about my future, probably more so than I really need to be. It's the color I've worn for so long that I can't remember ever being in another shade.

It's my fashion statement for this season. I'm surprised SJP hasn't caught on yet. The makers of SATC should let me style for the next film becaue Lord knows Carrie Bradshaw and Charlotte York Goldenblatt have been copping my style since that show aired, ended, and the movies were being made. I even have red shoes to match.