The last couple weeks have kept me very busy. And it doesn't look like things will be changing anytime soon. It's funny to look back a few months ago and wonder how I was going to fill all my free time. These days free time is a rarity. Even sleep has been hard to come by. While I'm enjoying the activity, it has required quite an adjustment.
The last couple weeks I've been working at Vodafone in the mornings and for the attorney in the afternoon, except on Tuesdays and Thursdays when I teach at Rivendell in the mornings. On top of that, my marathon training has kicked into full gear. I ran 8 miles this morning with my Team in Training team. During the week I'm running thirty to forty-five minutes a day and weight training a couple times a week. I've been doing most of my workouts in the evenings which means I can't get to sleep before midnight. Then getting up by six in the mornings is taking a toll on my body. My workout goal this week is just to shift my training hours so I can get up earlier and get to bed earlier.
Anyway, I'm continuing at Vodafone throughout March as well as doing my annual military training. I'm not sure how it's going to work out yet. In my planner it looks great, but there isn't much room for error.
The great part is that I'm actually working full time at several things that I really enjoy. The pay will be great too. I just hope I can keep it up. My weekends have suddenly become way too short, and very valuable.
The goal to this would be to pay off a majority of my debt in the next couple months while I'm living with my parents and have few expenses. Then I can get a place of my own. I've been looking downtown. I made a deal with myself though, that I have to take care of my medical debt and pay down my credit card debt before I move in to my own apartment. I hope that will be adequate motivation to be more frugal in my spending.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Girl Talk (Part 1)
INTRODUCTION
This is the first in a series of posts in which I work through my issues with other women. I have lots of them. I really don't like women, in general, and while I like some women, in particular, and have many very dear female friends and confidants, I don't like what womanhood or femininity represent. And I really don't like women who embrace these norms. I realize that this is a problem. I also realize that anyone who reads this may be offended or downright disgusted by some of what I'm going to say, but I am a firm believer that problems never get solved through dishonesty or denial. Bear with me as I work through this.
I've been trying to remember when I started feeling this way about women. Growing up my mother was quite severe toward men, having experienced her own measure of discrimination. But I think this also ingrained in me a dislike for women who refused to take the opportunities presented to them, or pursue the occupations and activities that had previously been unavailable to them. Nonetheless, I longed to be feminine. As a girl I only wore pink, purple, and white, arguing that other colors were "boy colors." I begged for gymnastics and dance lessons. I loved reading books with female characters. One of my favorite book series growing up was the "Mandy" series. It was a series of books about a girl, Mandy, living in North Carolina at the turn of the century who solved mysteries with the help of an old Cherokee man who had been able to avoid the Trail of Tears. Anyway, I loved these books. Not just because they were mystery stories, but because Mandy refused to abide by restrictive social norms of the day, but still managed to maintain a semblance of feminity in necessary circumstances.
I think in high school I became more aware of my dislike for what I perceive to be the weakness of feminity. No particular event comes to mind, but I remember hating Jane Austen books. Not because I had read and disliked her, but more because those were the types of books that girly-girls read and liked. Those romantic stories were for silly women with mushy hearts. I was determined not to be one of them. Now, I admit my ignorance, and after reading my share of Jane Austin, I have renounced my aversion toward her. Although the recent release of several movies, The Jane Austen Book Club, and Finding Jane are re-awakening my distaste for the way women distort her writing to become a method for finding a man, as if that's the end-all-be-all of female existence.
ISSUE #1: The Problem with Motherhood as a Life Goal
The first issue I want to tackle is my problem with women who "just want to get married and have babies." Over the last couple years I have changed my opinion drastically about children. Perhaps not that drastically, I think I've only been willing to say outright what I've thought for most of my adult life. Most of my acquaintances can attest to the fact that I don't want anything to do with children. I'm not mean to them, in fact, children really seem to like me. There was a moment a few months ago when I was sitting in purgatory aka the DMV, and there was a little girl about 3 years old who was just wandering around crying. BAWLING. Open-mouth, tear soaked face, wailing. I made a disgusted face and looked around to identify what irresponsible and inconsiderate adult would dare bring a child into a public place, let alone let that child behave in such a manner. Within a few seconds my eyes connected with the girl's eyes and suddenly she stopped crying. She snapped her mouth shut, rubbed her fist across her cheek and walked over to me, finger in her mouth. As she approached she waved at me with her free hand (flinging tear drops from her fingers). I was stunned, but I felt my face soften into a smile. Before she actually put her slimey little hands on me, her mom walked by snatched the girl's hand out of her mouth and yanked her out the door. The little kept looking back at me as her mom dragged her out to the car. All this to say that I am not an evil child eating witch. I just don't particularly like children. I don't want them in my place of business, or in the restaurants I eat at, in the grocery store, or anywhere in close proximity.
There are days, about once a month, when I actually like children, I smile at them on the bus, I think they're cute and imagine having one of my own. Then I wake up and smell the baby puke on my sweater and realize it's just the heightened level of hormones rushing to my ovaries and my "biological clock" ticking away. I've often sneered in disgust at the desperation many women feel to have children. There's a Friends episode where Joey and Chandler take Ross's baby Ben out with the hope of picking up women. One of the first women they encounter comments on how cute the baby is, following it up with "I think my uterus just skipped." UGH. Even one of my favorite authors, Isabelle Allende, noted that she starts her books with the first sentence "from the womb, not the mind." As if thinking with the heart isn't ridiculous enough, now women are thinking with their wombs?
After weeks of sorting through this particular issue, (I started this post February 18, it is now March 12), I had a realization. In a completely unrelated incident, I was struck by the fact that those things we hate are most often the things we fear. This isn't an original idea, but it became very real to me when I had a negative reaction toward two guys dressed in very "urban" clothing. I realized that I don't dislike those guys in particular, but the way that they dressed, their defiant limp, represented something that created a fearful reaction. So, what is it about women with children that scares me? It's not children or marriage within itself that is so terrifying, but it's the loss of freedom they represent.
This is the first in a series of posts in which I work through my issues with other women. I have lots of them. I really don't like women, in general, and while I like some women, in particular, and have many very dear female friends and confidants, I don't like what womanhood or femininity represent. And I really don't like women who embrace these norms. I realize that this is a problem. I also realize that anyone who reads this may be offended or downright disgusted by some of what I'm going to say, but I am a firm believer that problems never get solved through dishonesty or denial. Bear with me as I work through this.
I've been trying to remember when I started feeling this way about women. Growing up my mother was quite severe toward men, having experienced her own measure of discrimination. But I think this also ingrained in me a dislike for women who refused to take the opportunities presented to them, or pursue the occupations and activities that had previously been unavailable to them. Nonetheless, I longed to be feminine. As a girl I only wore pink, purple, and white, arguing that other colors were "boy colors." I begged for gymnastics and dance lessons. I loved reading books with female characters. One of my favorite book series growing up was the "Mandy" series. It was a series of books about a girl, Mandy, living in North Carolina at the turn of the century who solved mysteries with the help of an old Cherokee man who had been able to avoid the Trail of Tears. Anyway, I loved these books. Not just because they were mystery stories, but because Mandy refused to abide by restrictive social norms of the day, but still managed to maintain a semblance of feminity in necessary circumstances.
I think in high school I became more aware of my dislike for what I perceive to be the weakness of feminity. No particular event comes to mind, but I remember hating Jane Austen books. Not because I had read and disliked her, but more because those were the types of books that girly-girls read and liked. Those romantic stories were for silly women with mushy hearts. I was determined not to be one of them. Now, I admit my ignorance, and after reading my share of Jane Austin, I have renounced my aversion toward her. Although the recent release of several movies, The Jane Austen Book Club, and Finding Jane are re-awakening my distaste for the way women distort her writing to become a method for finding a man, as if that's the end-all-be-all of female existence.
ISSUE #1: The Problem with Motherhood as a Life Goal
The first issue I want to tackle is my problem with women who "just want to get married and have babies." Over the last couple years I have changed my opinion drastically about children. Perhaps not that drastically, I think I've only been willing to say outright what I've thought for most of my adult life. Most of my acquaintances can attest to the fact that I don't want anything to do with children. I'm not mean to them, in fact, children really seem to like me. There was a moment a few months ago when I was sitting in purgatory aka the DMV, and there was a little girl about 3 years old who was just wandering around crying. BAWLING. Open-mouth, tear soaked face, wailing. I made a disgusted face and looked around to identify what irresponsible and inconsiderate adult would dare bring a child into a public place, let alone let that child behave in such a manner. Within a few seconds my eyes connected with the girl's eyes and suddenly she stopped crying. She snapped her mouth shut, rubbed her fist across her cheek and walked over to me, finger in her mouth. As she approached she waved at me with her free hand (flinging tear drops from her fingers). I was stunned, but I felt my face soften into a smile. Before she actually put her slimey little hands on me, her mom walked by snatched the girl's hand out of her mouth and yanked her out the door. The little kept looking back at me as her mom dragged her out to the car. All this to say that I am not an evil child eating witch. I just don't particularly like children. I don't want them in my place of business, or in the restaurants I eat at, in the grocery store, or anywhere in close proximity.
There are days, about once a month, when I actually like children, I smile at them on the bus, I think they're cute and imagine having one of my own. Then I wake up and smell the baby puke on my sweater and realize it's just the heightened level of hormones rushing to my ovaries and my "biological clock" ticking away. I've often sneered in disgust at the desperation many women feel to have children. There's a Friends episode where Joey and Chandler take Ross's baby Ben out with the hope of picking up women. One of the first women they encounter comments on how cute the baby is, following it up with "I think my uterus just skipped." UGH. Even one of my favorite authors, Isabelle Allende, noted that she starts her books with the first sentence "from the womb, not the mind." As if thinking with the heart isn't ridiculous enough, now women are thinking with their wombs?
After weeks of sorting through this particular issue, (I started this post February 18, it is now March 12), I had a realization. In a completely unrelated incident, I was struck by the fact that those things we hate are most often the things we fear. This isn't an original idea, but it became very real to me when I had a negative reaction toward two guys dressed in very "urban" clothing. I realized that I don't dislike those guys in particular, but the way that they dressed, their defiant limp, represented something that created a fearful reaction. So, what is it about women with children that scares me? It's not children or marriage within itself that is so terrifying, but it's the loss of freedom they represent.
If you know me very well, you know that few things cause me more anxiety than missing opportunities. The number one source of anxiety in my life is my intense realization that often choosing one option or taking one path eliminates all other possibilities. It follows that I am essentially paralyzed in the face of major life decisions. I love possibilities. I love to talk about options, plans, hopes, things I want to do. Again if you know me, I've probably driven you crazy with multiple conversations about something new that I want to do, a new career plan, a new adventure, a new opportunity to learn or go or do. So marriage and motherhood sparks in me this intense fear and anxiety that I will be STUCK with children for 18 years of my life. I never want to be so responsible for another human being that I lose my individuality and independence. I have worked too hard to define my identity and I am working on making my mark in history, to lose that, and to lose the freedom of choosing between millions of opportunities feels like losing the whole world.
If you are one of those women who "just wants to get married and have babies," understand that it is not you nor your child that I hate, but rather I hate the loss of freedom that you represent. I guess it's possible that some women find freedom and fulfillment in raising children,; good for you. Next time I see you toting your toddler and pushing your infant in a stroller, I'll try to understand that this is the life you chose for yourself, and I am making my own choices. If I look a bit smug, it's only because I know I will never regret eliminating the possibility that I will be in your shoes.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Random Thoughts of Bliss
Life is good these days.
For the first time in a long time I am happy. And I've actually been happy for a little while now.
I worked at Vodafone again this week. Last time I was there it was just after New Years. It was a nice milestone for me to realize that I'm six weeks into 2008 and I am exactly where I hoped I would be. I've been sticking to my resolutions, keeping my goals, making the lifestyle changes I wanted to make. I think it's safe to say that I am developing habits out of my resolutions. It feels good, mature. I'm starting to grow up and I am surprised to find that I like it.
Ironically enough, I am also moving back into my parents' house at the end of the month. Actually it's really exciting to anticipate saving my rent money. I really want to move to downtown Denver. In order to afford it, I need to save a couple months for a deposit and moving costs, etc. As I walked from my office bulding to the bus stop (I took the long way) I passed by a few apartment buildings advertising vacancies. I couldn't help but notice the half a dozen attractive men out for a jog or walking their dogs. I was beginning to wonder where they all live.
For the first time in a long time I am happy. And I've actually been happy for a little while now.
I worked at Vodafone again this week. Last time I was there it was just after New Years. It was a nice milestone for me to realize that I'm six weeks into 2008 and I am exactly where I hoped I would be. I've been sticking to my resolutions, keeping my goals, making the lifestyle changes I wanted to make. I think it's safe to say that I am developing habits out of my resolutions. It feels good, mature. I'm starting to grow up and I am surprised to find that I like it.
Ironically enough, I am also moving back into my parents' house at the end of the month. Actually it's really exciting to anticipate saving my rent money. I really want to move to downtown Denver. In order to afford it, I need to save a couple months for a deposit and moving costs, etc. As I walked from my office bulding to the bus stop (I took the long way) I passed by a few apartment buildings advertising vacancies. I couldn't help but notice the half a dozen attractive men out for a jog or walking their dogs. I was beginning to wonder where they all live.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
The Part Where You Let Go
I really like this song and just wanted to share it. Enjoy!
When the rain breaks the road
Are you holding on
Are you holding on
To your last good day
When the stone breaks the wheel
Are you holding on
Are you holding on
Til the stone rolls away
And I don't know
Is this the part where you let go
And tumbling out of a window
Is this the part where you find out
I'm there for you
When the sun leaves the field
Are you holding on
Are you holding on
To the last sweet light
When the flame leaves your eyes
I still see you there
I still see you there
On your darkest night
And I don't know
Is this the part where you let go
And sinking under a shadow
Is this the part where you find out
I'm there for you now
As your hand's breaking free
I am holding on
I am holding on
As you've held on to me
And I don't know
Is this the part where we let go
Tumbling out of a window
Is this the part you're there for me
And I don't know
Is this the part where you let go
And sinking under a shadow
Is this the part where you find out
I'm there for you
You find out I'm there for you
You find out I'm there for you
-Dan Messe (Hem)
Are you holding on
Are you holding on
To your last good day
When the stone breaks the wheel
Are you holding on
Are you holding on
Til the stone rolls away
And I don't know
Is this the part where you let go
And tumbling out of a window
Is this the part where you find out
I'm there for you
When the sun leaves the field
Are you holding on
Are you holding on
To the last sweet light
When the flame leaves your eyes
I still see you there
I still see you there
On your darkest night
And I don't know
Is this the part where you let go
And sinking under a shadow
Is this the part where you find out
I'm there for you now
As your hand's breaking free
I am holding on
I am holding on
As you've held on to me
And I don't know
Is this the part where we let go
Tumbling out of a window
Is this the part you're there for me
And I don't know
Is this the part where you let go
And sinking under a shadow
Is this the part where you find out
I'm there for you
You find out I'm there for you
You find out I'm there for you
-Dan Messe (Hem)
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Into the Wild
A few years ago I read the book Waking the Dead by John Eldridge. Few books have really changed my perspective on life and spirituality as much it did. I've always been a reader, and I've loved stories for long before I learned to read. I love that stories and books take me to another world, make a different life real to me. For as long as I can remember I've dreamed about being a part of one of my stories. Even well into my teens I imagined myself as a characters in my favorite books. By the time I started college, intellectualism had become the altar on which I worshipped, and I forced those silly thoughts out of my head, abandoning imagination as a childish tendency. Then I read Waking the Dead. Eldridge actually uses fairy tales and epic stories to tell truths about God and life! Suddenly it was okay to imagine that I am part of a greater story. Not just okay, but healthy, and enlightening.
I'm an adventurer at heart. I often imagine that if I had enough cash to pay off my debt, I would free myself from this prison of materialism, competition, and greed and hit the road, catch a train, sail to the ends of the earth. It's an entirely romantic notion to live with that kind of freedom. Free from time and obligation.
Last night my sister and I attended a showing of Into the Wild at CU. It's based on the book by the same title by John Krakauer about Christopher McCandless, a 23 year old college graduate who hitchhikes to Alaska as an attempt to experience the world as nature intends and escape a painful home life. His entire journey makes a wonderful and tragic adventure. "For two years he walks the earth. Ultimate freedom."
The whole time I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to leave everything behind and venture into the wild myself. Wonderment became desire and desire, longing, then finally desperation.
After I dropped my sister off, I cried the entire ride home. Not just cried, but wept, sobbed. I was overcome by this sense that I am missing something in my life. I am tethered to this pile of debt and obligation that is preventing me from living the life I was created to live. Even now, the lump in my throat is growing as I think about all the time I've wasted. I want so much more out of life, but I feel like it is just beyond my grasp. There is so much world out there, and I am missing it.
I'm an adventurer at heart. I often imagine that if I had enough cash to pay off my debt, I would free myself from this prison of materialism, competition, and greed and hit the road, catch a train, sail to the ends of the earth. It's an entirely romantic notion to live with that kind of freedom. Free from time and obligation.
Last night my sister and I attended a showing of Into the Wild at CU. It's based on the book by the same title by John Krakauer about Christopher McCandless, a 23 year old college graduate who hitchhikes to Alaska as an attempt to experience the world as nature intends and escape a painful home life. His entire journey makes a wonderful and tragic adventure. "For two years he walks the earth. Ultimate freedom."
The whole time I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to leave everything behind and venture into the wild myself. Wonderment became desire and desire, longing, then finally desperation.
After I dropped my sister off, I cried the entire ride home. Not just cried, but wept, sobbed. I was overcome by this sense that I am missing something in my life. I am tethered to this pile of debt and obligation that is preventing me from living the life I was created to live. Even now, the lump in my throat is growing as I think about all the time I've wasted. I want so much more out of life, but I feel like it is just beyond my grasp. There is so much world out there, and I am missing it.
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