"save yo' drama for yo' mama."
or so the saying goes.
i haven't had anything to say in a while, and i've concluded that this is probably because i've been content. i read over a few of my blog entries over the past two years, and i realized how much time i've spent whining about my life. i still maintain that a lot of my last two years of college encompassed the hardest things i've ever had to do. but reading over those entries reminded me of how profoundly frustrated i was, and how happy i am to finally be on the other side.
perhaps i've grown up a lot, or i've learned to disconnect myself from circumstances beyond my control. or maybe, though i hope it isn't true, i'm just apathetic. a lot of what i've written about over the past few years has embodied my frustration with my inability to affect others' decisions, and especially my inability to change how they look at me. as a kid, i always listened to dr. laura, and now i'm beginning to see some truth to what she says; you can't control other people, just yourself. i pounded the ground for nearly a year because, no matter how hard i tried, i could not make my relationships work. for one reason or another, he was unhappy or disinterested. i'd bend over backwards to make him happy, but it didn't work. slowly, my self-worth dwindled to only being how good i was from another person's point of view. in most aspects of my life, hard work produces results, and i couldn't understand why this wouldn't work the same way. so i complained, all the while attempting to simply. be. okay.
perhaps i needed a year to realize that i don't believe that i'm made for anyone. it's not a result of cynicism, nor is this indicative of my feminist ideals. it's a combination of knowing that i'm made for One and One alone, and also realizing that two people are only as made for each other as they truly, deeply want to be. none of those failures represent anything about my worth, nor about how happy or unhappy i should be, and i'm only sorry that i complained so much about things i couldn't control in the first place. change is never easy, and i suppose it's simply been the painful process of tearing these ideas away from myself, ideas that had become so embedded that it felt like i was digging out parts of my very flesh to let them go.
never in my life have i been so content to be myself and with my friends and still so comfortable with letting things go. there's been so much grasping and grappling in the past, and it's a relief, a huge, deep, complete sigh i feel in my soul when i outwardly shrug. i don't look forward to any white gown or romantic fantasy because, whether or not it's even in my future is unimportant and not at all what i'm looking forward to. i look forward to nothing, because this concept of completion was never mine in the first place. i am complete, wanting nothing, and i acknowledged this the moment i knelt at the cross. every day, every breath, every step, every moment is a gift in the most generous form, not something to which i could ever entitle myself. i think that if i look to my future as a gift rather than an expectation, i will yield more gratefulness and compassion, and will be, in the most profound sense, complete and satisfied.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
on God, control, and the laborious process of moving on
"when one door closes, another one opens."
or so the saying goes.
"There was utter silence all around me. And now for the first time I knew what I had been doing. While I was reading, it had, once and again, seemed strange to me that the reading took so long; for the book was a small one. Now I knew that I had been reading it over and over – perhaps a dozen times. I would have read it forever, quick as I could, starting the first word again almost before the last was out of my mouth, if the judge had not stopped me. And the voice I read it in was strange to my ears. There was given to me a certainty that this, at last, was my real voice."
-c.s. lewis, till we have faces
i love this part of the story. for those who don't know, i wrote my senior thesis on it. it seemed appropriate, since i first read it in 8th grade and my understanding of the world has changed considerably since then.
i suppose i identify with orual. she's reading her complaints about the various injustices of her life to the gods, and she realizes that it never mattered that the world was unjust to her. somehow, she came in with a sense of entitlement. it's at this moment in the book that she sees her true self. that all her complaints never mattered to begin with. she keeps insisting that it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, but she doesn't move on until she realizes that what's fair and unfair to her is insignificant. how she reacts is. nobody will ever find it fair. acceptance of one's inability to change this or to change other people is significant.
a few weeks ago, i received an email. i didn't expect it and i still don't know how to respond to it, or even if i can respond to it. i think that when i'm honest with myself, it makes me a bit angry. it wasn't an apology or anything. perhaps it was just an attempt to move on, or to prove a point to me. but it came out of the bluest of blue depths. 4 months and no words after the fact.
when that obnoxious day that has burnt itself in the depths of my brain came last fall, i resorted to all the usual feelings. it's not fair, i didn't deserve it, i can't believe it, i thought it would be different this time, why is this happening to me. all the same questions, all over again. and i suppose it is fair that he told me that he wasn't happy before we went any further, but i do know that i didn't deserve it; i think most would agree that i deserved better.
they say that you can't control other people, just how your respond to them.
i've learned a great deal about this statement. it occurred to me that it didn't really matter what was and wasn't fair. it is what it is. i believe in a just God. and i believe in a faithful God. just because i wanted it to be different or better doesn't mean that He has to make it that way. He gives and takes away, according to His will, whether or not i find it fair. who am i to decide fair?
of my break-ups, this one has been the most liberating. orual stopped complaining when she realized that she couldn't control everything. i finally realized that beating the ground was also accepting defeat, and that constantly repeating to myself that it was so so so unfair was only driving me mad. fair or unfair, i had to change my approach. so i did, and it was difficult and painful and all the rest. but moving on has come far more naturally this time around. and the constant need to be with someone has begun to dissipate. for the first time since i was 16, i can honestly say that i'm okay with this, that i might actually prefer this.
as much as i love my faith, the church bothers me because all my years of growing up have instilled in me that i'm somehow incomplete until i find someone to fill the void. like marriage will be my miracle drug, and that when i meet him, i'll know. like i'm searching the world for the missing pieces of myself. since last september, this concept has perplexed me. why am i looking so hard, and why do i feel compelled to think of that as the beginning of my life. am i ignorant or just somebody that was meant to be alone? i like to think that my heart burns too much for relationship for this to be the case, but my attitude towards relationships is cynical at best. i'm so jaded by the supreme laziness i've experienced.
fair or unfair, right or wrong, things have changed. i'm of the opinion and joy is a choice we all make. i can run around asking why or i can accept that what is, simply is, and choose to let go. everything happens for a reason, and i've given up trying to understand why or why not. i'm only as stuck as i choose to be. life requires proactivity. in the spirit of joy and choosing it, i am grateful that all this has happened. it surprises me sometimes that this process has revealed so many anti-me characteristics. i'm more guarded, and i find that i care less. not so much that i would use another person, but enough that i can say done is done is done is done, and forget it. i don't like not caring, but i do like not getting hurt anymore. You have a purpose. damned if i know what it is, but i'm choosing to not look too hard for it. i'm sure it will be, in the most cosmic sense, more fair than any way i could envision it.
or so the saying goes.
"There was utter silence all around me. And now for the first time I knew what I had been doing. While I was reading, it had, once and again, seemed strange to me that the reading took so long; for the book was a small one. Now I knew that I had been reading it over and over – perhaps a dozen times. I would have read it forever, quick as I could, starting the first word again almost before the last was out of my mouth, if the judge had not stopped me. And the voice I read it in was strange to my ears. There was given to me a certainty that this, at last, was my real voice."
-c.s. lewis, till we have faces
i love this part of the story. for those who don't know, i wrote my senior thesis on it. it seemed appropriate, since i first read it in 8th grade and my understanding of the world has changed considerably since then.
i suppose i identify with orual. she's reading her complaints about the various injustices of her life to the gods, and she realizes that it never mattered that the world was unjust to her. somehow, she came in with a sense of entitlement. it's at this moment in the book that she sees her true self. that all her complaints never mattered to begin with. she keeps insisting that it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, but she doesn't move on until she realizes that what's fair and unfair to her is insignificant. how she reacts is. nobody will ever find it fair. acceptance of one's inability to change this or to change other people is significant.
a few weeks ago, i received an email. i didn't expect it and i still don't know how to respond to it, or even if i can respond to it. i think that when i'm honest with myself, it makes me a bit angry. it wasn't an apology or anything. perhaps it was just an attempt to move on, or to prove a point to me. but it came out of the bluest of blue depths. 4 months and no words after the fact.
when that obnoxious day that has burnt itself in the depths of my brain came last fall, i resorted to all the usual feelings. it's not fair, i didn't deserve it, i can't believe it, i thought it would be different this time, why is this happening to me. all the same questions, all over again. and i suppose it is fair that he told me that he wasn't happy before we went any further, but i do know that i didn't deserve it; i think most would agree that i deserved better.
they say that you can't control other people, just how your respond to them.
i've learned a great deal about this statement. it occurred to me that it didn't really matter what was and wasn't fair. it is what it is. i believe in a just God. and i believe in a faithful God. just because i wanted it to be different or better doesn't mean that He has to make it that way. He gives and takes away, according to His will, whether or not i find it fair. who am i to decide fair?
of my break-ups, this one has been the most liberating. orual stopped complaining when she realized that she couldn't control everything. i finally realized that beating the ground was also accepting defeat, and that constantly repeating to myself that it was so so so unfair was only driving me mad. fair or unfair, i had to change my approach. so i did, and it was difficult and painful and all the rest. but moving on has come far more naturally this time around. and the constant need to be with someone has begun to dissipate. for the first time since i was 16, i can honestly say that i'm okay with this, that i might actually prefer this.
as much as i love my faith, the church bothers me because all my years of growing up have instilled in me that i'm somehow incomplete until i find someone to fill the void. like marriage will be my miracle drug, and that when i meet him, i'll know. like i'm searching the world for the missing pieces of myself. since last september, this concept has perplexed me. why am i looking so hard, and why do i feel compelled to think of that as the beginning of my life. am i ignorant or just somebody that was meant to be alone? i like to think that my heart burns too much for relationship for this to be the case, but my attitude towards relationships is cynical at best. i'm so jaded by the supreme laziness i've experienced.
fair or unfair, right or wrong, things have changed. i'm of the opinion and joy is a choice we all make. i can run around asking why or i can accept that what is, simply is, and choose to let go. everything happens for a reason, and i've given up trying to understand why or why not. i'm only as stuck as i choose to be. life requires proactivity. in the spirit of joy and choosing it, i am grateful that all this has happened. it surprises me sometimes that this process has revealed so many anti-me characteristics. i'm more guarded, and i find that i care less. not so much that i would use another person, but enough that i can say done is done is done is done, and forget it. i don't like not caring, but i do like not getting hurt anymore. You have a purpose. damned if i know what it is, but i'm choosing to not look too hard for it. i'm sure it will be, in the most cosmic sense, more fair than any way i could envision it.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
my body... the new currency?
"one man's trash is another man's treasure."
or so the saying goes.
last thursday, i was privileged to spend an enjoyable, memorable, and i dare say legendary weekend in las vegas with some good friends. despite the inconvenient truth that my financial situation can only be described as dismal, i went anyway, hoping that i'd be able to afford everything if i'm extra-conscious of my spending habits and expenses. i then thanked God that i own a credit card to get me by until my next few paychecks come in and the bills slow down a bit. ironically, i lost said credit card in a nightclub while i was dancing, and was told that i would get another one in about 10 business days. whoopsy-daisy. to my credit, despite my stupidity, i did have the presence of mind to cancel it even though i could barely remember where i lived at the time. i suppose identity theft and impending credit doom has an uncanny ability to sober a person up. and because of all my experiences with credit cards and disappearing personal effects in london, i am now a pro at this damage control thing.
to my pleasant surprise, however, and despite the unfortunate loss of my hallowed platinum card, i left vegas having spent less than $150 on my entire weekend, including food, hotel, gasoline, and entertainment.
in truth, this seems almost impossible, since i was there two nights and visited approximately four nightclubs. i realized that this is because i didn't have to pay to get into any of the clubs, much less for any alcohol i drank once i got there. upon discussing this with my fellow travelers, i understood that this is because we are all physically appealing, so nightclubs are eager to let us in for free. the general concept is that, if they let us in, or girls like us in, men who pay for entrance will spend money on us. ergo, even though we're not paying a cover charge, the casino is still making money because men are spending it on us. and i realized, for the first time in a while, that, essentially, i was trading my looks for free alcohol and entertainment.
on its most basic level, isn't this what post-feminist culture has been fighting for the whole time? the right to look and feel great and have it confirmed? to be fair, in the nightclub, everyone wins: the club makes money, we get free entertainment, and the guys who may or may not have anything to offer get a chance to meet pretty girls. as a feminist, despite the liberation that comes with understanding my feminine appeal, and of course the basic human instinct that free shit is inherently good, it bothers me somewhere in the recesses of my mind that i traded my looks for my vacation. as feminists, we chant the common mantra that we're equal to men. we're independent. we don't need them any more than they need us. and we admit that there is something empowering about being able to command a guy's attention.
i suppose my qualms lie with my realization that my looks can be so easily converted into a currency. that it's like a variation of prostitution that i'm employing to get what i want. it is this aspect of feminism that often confuses me. we fight so hard for men to view us as equals, as strong people, as individuals and not sex objects. yet we have no trouble being "traded" and "sold" for a vacation. the lines become so blurry sometimes that it's difficult to find where the boundaries lie, where our principles stand. we would all agree that sexual harrassment is wrong in a professional environment, or in any environment where it's not invited. but the invitations become so ambiguous. there's a rather large gap between completely ignoring the opposite sex and actually forcing intercourse upon them. we want to take a chance, to test the boundaries, but the discrepancy in our actions is striking.
does the environment make everything completely different? does it all depend on what our agenda is, because if equality is what we want, shouldn't a man's agenda be just as relevant to the boundaries as ours? why does our word trump his -- isn't that unequal? are we making up for the years and years of patriarchy? our own form of affirmative action?
furthermore, if we are to claim that we, as women, ought to be honored and respected, shouldn't appearance be irrelevant? shouldn't we be fighting for women everywhere, claiming that beauty is about so much more than the surface? or is that something we do on a daily basis - just not in a place like vegas?
we constantly blame men for breaking the rules, but it's pretty clear that we set them, and that we're capable of many completely different sets of rules, sometimes even in the same day. perhaps it is all just situational. some things have to be, after all. but what we want seems to fluctuate so much that it seems unreasonable, if not completely irrational to come down so hard on guys, labeling them a certain way because they don't always understand what's going on. some do, and they are wrong in the way they look at us. but what is it, exactly, that drives a person like me who wants so desperately to be viewed as independent, strong, professional, and intelligent, to outright exploitation of my looks and sexuality for what i want.
or so the saying goes.
last thursday, i was privileged to spend an enjoyable, memorable, and i dare say legendary weekend in las vegas with some good friends. despite the inconvenient truth that my financial situation can only be described as dismal, i went anyway, hoping that i'd be able to afford everything if i'm extra-conscious of my spending habits and expenses. i then thanked God that i own a credit card to get me by until my next few paychecks come in and the bills slow down a bit. ironically, i lost said credit card in a nightclub while i was dancing, and was told that i would get another one in about 10 business days. whoopsy-daisy. to my credit, despite my stupidity, i did have the presence of mind to cancel it even though i could barely remember where i lived at the time. i suppose identity theft and impending credit doom has an uncanny ability to sober a person up. and because of all my experiences with credit cards and disappearing personal effects in london, i am now a pro at this damage control thing.
to my pleasant surprise, however, and despite the unfortunate loss of my hallowed platinum card, i left vegas having spent less than $150 on my entire weekend, including food, hotel, gasoline, and entertainment.
in truth, this seems almost impossible, since i was there two nights and visited approximately four nightclubs. i realized that this is because i didn't have to pay to get into any of the clubs, much less for any alcohol i drank once i got there. upon discussing this with my fellow travelers, i understood that this is because we are all physically appealing, so nightclubs are eager to let us in for free. the general concept is that, if they let us in, or girls like us in, men who pay for entrance will spend money on us. ergo, even though we're not paying a cover charge, the casino is still making money because men are spending it on us. and i realized, for the first time in a while, that, essentially, i was trading my looks for free alcohol and entertainment.
on its most basic level, isn't this what post-feminist culture has been fighting for the whole time? the right to look and feel great and have it confirmed? to be fair, in the nightclub, everyone wins: the club makes money, we get free entertainment, and the guys who may or may not have anything to offer get a chance to meet pretty girls. as a feminist, despite the liberation that comes with understanding my feminine appeal, and of course the basic human instinct that free shit is inherently good, it bothers me somewhere in the recesses of my mind that i traded my looks for my vacation. as feminists, we chant the common mantra that we're equal to men. we're independent. we don't need them any more than they need us. and we admit that there is something empowering about being able to command a guy's attention.
i suppose my qualms lie with my realization that my looks can be so easily converted into a currency. that it's like a variation of prostitution that i'm employing to get what i want. it is this aspect of feminism that often confuses me. we fight so hard for men to view us as equals, as strong people, as individuals and not sex objects. yet we have no trouble being "traded" and "sold" for a vacation. the lines become so blurry sometimes that it's difficult to find where the boundaries lie, where our principles stand. we would all agree that sexual harrassment is wrong in a professional environment, or in any environment where it's not invited. but the invitations become so ambiguous. there's a rather large gap between completely ignoring the opposite sex and actually forcing intercourse upon them. we want to take a chance, to test the boundaries, but the discrepancy in our actions is striking.
does the environment make everything completely different? does it all depend on what our agenda is, because if equality is what we want, shouldn't a man's agenda be just as relevant to the boundaries as ours? why does our word trump his -- isn't that unequal? are we making up for the years and years of patriarchy? our own form of affirmative action?
furthermore, if we are to claim that we, as women, ought to be honored and respected, shouldn't appearance be irrelevant? shouldn't we be fighting for women everywhere, claiming that beauty is about so much more than the surface? or is that something we do on a daily basis - just not in a place like vegas?
we constantly blame men for breaking the rules, but it's pretty clear that we set them, and that we're capable of many completely different sets of rules, sometimes even in the same day. perhaps it is all just situational. some things have to be, after all. but what we want seems to fluctuate so much that it seems unreasonable, if not completely irrational to come down so hard on guys, labeling them a certain way because they don't always understand what's going on. some do, and they are wrong in the way they look at us. but what is it, exactly, that drives a person like me who wants so desperately to be viewed as independent, strong, professional, and intelligent, to outright exploitation of my looks and sexuality for what i want.
de blogging
"old is the new new."
or so the saying goes.
confession: i have a problem with blogging. i know people who have gotten into trouble doing this; relationships have fallen apart. people have a tendency to get far too personal, and there is no reason for it. i don't want to know the minute details of your existence - and i probably shouldn't if i don't know you very well. i strive to write provocatively and transparently, but without getting into the minute details of my life.
in my lifetime, i have kept probably 2 or 3 blogs consistently. livejournal captured the hopeless drama of high school. and xanga, oh my dear xanga, was with me throughout the last two years of high school and all the way through college. the truth is, i would never delete them, because i enjoy going back and seeing how my life has developed. it is such a refreshing reminder that i am, indeed, growing up and learning from my mistakes, as well as a great catalog of God's abundant faithfulness in my life. it's been my mantra since freshman year at chapman that God is, above all, faithful. despite myself. and despite my objections to the online world, i'm beginning this blog. and as is painfully obvious, all this seems hypocritical. but just try to think of my blogging experience as an environmentalist that still drives a car. they realize that what they do seems contradictory, so they attempt to compensate by driving an energy-efficient, low-emissions vehicle. so what is this all about? i believe that deeply personal things should be recorded in personal journals, not online. so why not keep a journal? why go through this exercise? and why switch when i still have my beloved xanga and myspace?
i'll have you all know that i do keep a personal, hold-it-in-your-hands journal, and have since i was seven years old. it's stuffed full of my musings, as well as letters and cards given to me over the years. and really, it holds all the stuff that i don't want you, my online readers, to know about me: things i think about, do, or feel. if you're friends with me, you probably already know some of these things, but why would i put it out there for strangers to find?
i'm switching because college is over, and it's time for a change. that part's not complicated.
curtailing the reason for switching is also my purpose. this is going to contain very little about what i say or do and far more about my opinions or musings on various topics. i have to write. in an average day, dozens of things occur to me, and my hand twitches with the need to put them on paper. the simple thought "that's peculiar" is enough to initiate a dissertation.
why not keep it to myself? the reason why seems absurd, but it's true: i write much better and much more consistently if i know there's a possibility that others will read it. yes, i love to write for myself, but there's no tension in doing so. my reasoning is not being challenged, because i know what i mean. blogging forces me to be complete.
so. welcome.
or so the saying goes.
confession: i have a problem with blogging. i know people who have gotten into trouble doing this; relationships have fallen apart. people have a tendency to get far too personal, and there is no reason for it. i don't want to know the minute details of your existence - and i probably shouldn't if i don't know you very well. i strive to write provocatively and transparently, but without getting into the minute details of my life.
in my lifetime, i have kept probably 2 or 3 blogs consistently. livejournal captured the hopeless drama of high school. and xanga, oh my dear xanga, was with me throughout the last two years of high school and all the way through college. the truth is, i would never delete them, because i enjoy going back and seeing how my life has developed. it is such a refreshing reminder that i am, indeed, growing up and learning from my mistakes, as well as a great catalog of God's abundant faithfulness in my life. it's been my mantra since freshman year at chapman that God is, above all, faithful. despite myself. and despite my objections to the online world, i'm beginning this blog. and as is painfully obvious, all this seems hypocritical. but just try to think of my blogging experience as an environmentalist that still drives a car. they realize that what they do seems contradictory, so they attempt to compensate by driving an energy-efficient, low-emissions vehicle. so what is this all about? i believe that deeply personal things should be recorded in personal journals, not online. so why not keep a journal? why go through this exercise? and why switch when i still have my beloved xanga and myspace?
i'll have you all know that i do keep a personal, hold-it-in-your-hands journal, and have since i was seven years old. it's stuffed full of my musings, as well as letters and cards given to me over the years. and really, it holds all the stuff that i don't want you, my online readers, to know about me: things i think about, do, or feel. if you're friends with me, you probably already know some of these things, but why would i put it out there for strangers to find?
i'm switching because college is over, and it's time for a change. that part's not complicated.
curtailing the reason for switching is also my purpose. this is going to contain very little about what i say or do and far more about my opinions or musings on various topics. i have to write. in an average day, dozens of things occur to me, and my hand twitches with the need to put them on paper. the simple thought "that's peculiar" is enough to initiate a dissertation.
why not keep it to myself? the reason why seems absurd, but it's true: i write much better and much more consistently if i know there's a possibility that others will read it. yes, i love to write for myself, but there's no tension in doing so. my reasoning is not being challenged, because i know what i mean. blogging forces me to be complete.
so. welcome.
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