Sometimes, when I have too much time to think about it ("it" being my "love life" and the time being those days right after the student finally realizes that there are absolutely no papers to write for absolutely zero classes), my heart gets heavy. Sometimes, your body is weighed down by some inexplicable force besides gravity. It can happen on the train, alone, witnessing a moment. A specific person comes to mind immediately. That person is the exact emotional and relatable substance you want to be sitting or standing next to you when you see or hear this particular moment. But, they're not there. That's all about missing someone, I know. Lots of people. It happens. Maybe it's also because my body's heavy from being sick, or because I miss my close friends, far away, or because I'm not singing. Or, the reality that, even during the "happy" holidays, hate, greed, and hunger still happen. True loneliness, grief, longing, inpenetrable sorrow.
God still calls us to lift our heavy hearts, bodies, emotions, not just at Christmas time but all the time. Because the Baby Jesus DID come and he DID die for you and me. So, it counts for something that we spread the cheer - faithfully and whole-heavy-heartedly keep the love going around all year long, not ignoring the evil, but spreading the good, not glossing it over, but penetrating it wherever it might be.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. - 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
As for my "love life," it's the only thing that's actually "lonely," but me, myself? I have so much to make me, well, not alone, which makes for a full, heavy heart.
What wondrous love is this
That caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul.
When I was sinking down,
Beneath God’s righteous frown,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul.
To God and to the Lamb I will sing;
Who is the great I AM,
While millions join the theme, I will sing.
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on,
And when from death I’m free
I’ll sing His love for me,
And through eternity I’ll sing on.
I came across some of my old poetry the other day - some that I wrote in the last five years. Seems more like a decade ago, because so much has happened. It was comforting to read my own words again, knowing exactly what they mean. Maybe it's because they're still all my words, not really meant for an audience. Not an essay, a review, a feature story. Just poetry. Just words and lines, and my own goofy life between the spaces and line breaks, inside and underneath. Maybe it's selfish, but it really is something to look back, know yourself then, and know yourself now.
I wrote Manchester Victoria Station for a poetry publication in
college. The critics of the publication said there was a tragedy and
desperate longing in the poem. I agree, and that stinking hopelessness
really is there, because that's what I thought a lot of things were -
hopeless. I've never even been to Manchester. It's ironic that I would
write a "love" poem about it, though, because putting the thoughts into
words confirms something, not sure what, maybe the existence of that
actual hope of going there someday and having the conversation. It's
all forgettable and memorable at the same time. So utterly and
despicably sentimental.
I haven't written a poem in two years. Now, I don't think every thought and sentence has to be poetically unforgettable and sentimental. Not that all poetry is like that or should be. But, the sappiness of my old words has probably disappeared because reality slapped it right out of me. Sometimes, though, I still think in measure, iambic pentameter, and hopeless romanticism. But that's rare now, because I realize actual love isn't held together by these things.
My dog, Mollie, is 12 years old - which makes her 84 in dog years! Yes, she is the best. We got her the day my Mom, Dad, brothers and I pressed our hands into the wet cement outside our new house in 1999. I put my hand over the imprint the other day, and it's about twice as big as that imprint. At that time, Mollie was a little puppy with really sharp teeth and really sharp making-everyone-melt-even-when-she-tore-up-the-yard skills. She was one when I was 12. Now's she's 12, and I'm twice her age. But she's so much wiser. I suppose that might be why she's got 7 times the wisdom - and maybe why they figure dog years by that number. Coming home to her stooped on the porch is a big comfort. This time, for Thanksgiving break, it's almost as if she knew how dreadfully much I had missed her and home, and being able to look at the handprints of my family in the cement anytime I want.
I realized that dogs I've seen elsewhere, (all of which I like to imagine are Mollie's good long lost friends - the kid in me) are quick to become my friends, too. I wouldn't be as joyful without them around. I think their innocence makes me feel like a kid again.
"You've learned all you need to know, Chance. Now all you need to learn is how to say goodbye." - Shadow, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey
I don't want my blog to become a form of narcissistic
self examination - confirmation of my own self-worth. But, sometimes, that's
what it is...as I write a self examination about writing another
self examination. Sure, call me cynical, critical, worrisome, pessimistic.
(Write something positive, Linds! Be happy.) It's getting harder to write
seriously about happy things. I've gone snarky. So, I thought I'd let a few things speak for themselves. I dug these out of my quote bin just now. Yes, I have a quote collection - pages and pages.
"I don't know what I think about that because I don't know where people's hearts are. It's important to not judge without knowing their hearts. If their heart is to honor the Lord, then it's a good thing. Only God can judge because only God knows what's truly in a person's heart."- Tim Tebow
"I feel that everything that pulled me to the city slowly
pushes me away from it, and everything I grew up with that pushed me away from
the farm is what’s pulling me back. The peace and quiet and the freedom that I
actually never realized meant as much as it did. We didn’t have any neighbors
for miles, woodlands to run around in. We had a lot of things to catapult our
imagination when you didn’t even know what imagination was. Life’s too short
when you find yourself sitting in a car for four hours every day trying to get
from East L.A. to West L.A. to Hollywood and then back to East L.A." - Garrett
Hedlund
"I think at this point most creative things are pretentious
or ambitious so it's just a waste of time to apologize for trying to develop
your skills or eye or whatever. Everyone is so worried about seeming hipster
but I dunno, I think caring about what kind of clothes other people wear or
what kind of music they like is the most hipster. I would much rather be taking
pictures and writing and be way in over my head and none of it even be that
good than not do anything. Otherwise, I would probably be one of those people
who puts all their self-perception in what their tastes say about them since
they don't have anything they themselves make or do because they're afraid they
won't be good at it because they believe you can't be creative just for
yourself and that someone will say they are bad at it. Which just makes you
think about what your tastes say about you all the more, which is that stupid
mentality of people who are annoyed by hipsters. I just wanna like what I like!
Where in this world is there any passion anymore! Any commitment! Once I didn't
leave the couch for 25 hours except to go to Ihop. That took commitment." -Tavi
Gevinson
You might be thinking this post is a cop-out, but when somebody says somethin' - peep's got somethin' to say about what they know, feel, and think. And, sometimes, I get it: the beauty of it all (Oh, look. Something positive).
"A writing space like this in the blogosphere, can be a narrative, not just an internal dialogue. I want to connect with people (I'm also really bad at keeping in touch)." - Self-involved me
Also, here's to living vicariously through professional sports teams.
Sometimes there are paragraphs. And sometimes there are stupid paragraphs. And sometimes there are ridiculous paragraphs. Case in point:
"Interestingly - at least, to me - Frankfurt goes on to show how bullshit differs from lying. And, furthermore, Frankfurt claims that the bullshitter's presence is actually more dangerous to the health of liberal society than that of the liar; for, what distiguishes lying from bullshitting is a certain respect for the truth. Whereas the bullshitter only respects the power of utterances to persuade based upon emotion and, as such, finds no use for any given truth of science, theology, philosophy, or whatever, the liar, in concealing the truth from his conversation partner, actually respects the truth a great deal more than the bullshitter."
"Interestingly enough, bullshit differs from lying? Hm. The truth is, we're all liars and we're all bullshitters. Utterances, as such, that we are not...are bullshit."
I bring this up because I have fallen victim to my own, um, bullshit. I'll start using a more tasteful word. Let's go with hypocrisy, maybe? No. Hold on. I'm going to thesaurus.com for this one...of course, it's not on dictionary/thesaurus.com. Let's try urbandictionary.com Always a dangerous task. No more internet filters, if you know what I'm talking about. So: nonsense, exaggeration, lies.
My confession of nonsense. No...bullshit (no better word), is this. I've been hypocritical of this city and its people, thinking oftentimes I'm much well off coming from the farm, living simply. Not only is this a little assuming, it's also caused some insincerity and judgment on my part, which I've been excusing as culture shock and a loss of patience. I've also made an excuse for not blogging for a couple of weeks: pressure - from this whole idea of writing for you. But that's not really a valid excuse either. Rather, I'm unsure of my actual ability to not bullshit. I'm trying to write better, become edgier, become more informed.
I have also admittedly been angry at friends. Of course, for selfish reasons. Forgiveness is another thing I learned again in church on Sunday. Did I also mention this church, Saint Luke, is where Paul Manz was Cantor Emeritus? Yes, he was. I miss singing his music with the A Cappella choir. I miss it so freaking much. And I miss you.
At this point, I'd like to dedicate this blog post to Momma Auten, because, even though I'm in a funk, she actually made me realize, there is no funk. Just fear and excuses. I am so thankful she was able to come visit for her birthday! Happy 29th Birthday, Mom! Just kidding, she's not 29, but she is a beautiful age, and a wonderful wisdom to behold. Trust me on this.
In other news...even though the Blackhawks have had a rough couple of days.
That was no bullshit, excuse my language. That was LEGIT.
"Then Jesus said to his disciples: 'Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or bran; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?
Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! And do not set your hear on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after such things, and your Father knows that you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.
Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.'" -Luke 12: 22-34
Today was PUMPKIN PATCH day, except there wasn't really a patch, just a lot of pumpkins, and giraffe-feeding, a pumpkin-eating dinosaur, corn maze, petting zoo, camel rides, roasted corn, kettle corn (lots of corn), and pig races (so many piggy puns - I wish I could remember all of them). And 50/50. If you want, you should see it. And lately, just a few thoughts over the last few hours.
Country music and pumpkins.
Why are fall colors so comforting? Because they're warm. And good country music, too. It's got the warmth of the color, but the sting of the cold, if you know what I mean. Depth. I'm talking about the good 'ol stuff: Johnny Cash, early Garth Brooks, mmhm, Zac Brown Band. The good stuff I can listen to with my brothers.
Friendship is heavy.
...in a really good way, because you volunteer to help carry someone else's burden. Taking three hours of precious sleep time to listen to a friends expression and/or woe - and you meet on the same road, find the right exit together, make it home.
Actors and dogs.
Have you ever thought about how acting in a movie or play with a dog is even more revealing of the actor - the person - than the character? Also, has anyone else noticed that Joseph Gordon Levitt has done a number of movies with numbers in them: 10 Things I Hate About You, (500) Days of Summer, 50/50. Interesting.
Meanwhile, the Blackhawks (sorry, I know you're probably getting sick of the updates if you don't know and love them as much as I do) lost tonight. But, that doesn't stop their big hearts. I like growing up with them right now. Check it! http://blackhawks.nhl.com/club/news.htm?id=595942
While the autumn air is starting to sweep through Chicago and the smell of cold fills my nose and open pockets of my early fall jacket, I'm beginning to warm up to the details of the city. The train stop is dirty but so familiar and endearing now. The construction down the road makes me curse every early morning it jolts me awake (I am not a morning person), but I've been here long enough to see new things take shape, new ads traipse downtown, new venues open up, new exhibitions and events happen. You don't get that stuff when you're a tourist (don't get me started with them), but when you're an amateur Chicagoan, oh, the possibilities! Even the bustling downtown is invigorating and energetic. Walking on Michigan Avenue at 4 p.m. is the best and worst thing at the same time. The anonymity is comforting most days. New friends are even more comforting.
I've come to enjoy the echo of Pink Floyd and (pre-Battle Studies) John Mayer in our shoebox apartment. The hall light on the third floor is out, but there is a skylight. Even if I can't ever find the right key after dark, I like that the coral-colored street lights get to peek through.
Show me a picture of every red line El train stop from here to downtown,
and I can tell you exactly which one it is. I guess that doesn't sound
so neat, but I like to think outside the box of monotony. The 30-minute
ride to school every day has the potential to make me a grump because
of its claustrophobia, loud and obnoxious teenagers on their cell
phones, and consistently funky smells.
I still miss wide open space, harvest time in Nebraska, taking meals to the fields, Blue Hill high school football games, joking with my grandparents over a steak dinner, beating up on my little brother (who am I kidding? He'll never be little anymore)...singing everyday, getting drunk with good friends, and Pabst Blue Ribbon not being such a hipster beer. I don't think I'll ever stop missing these things.
Nonetheless, I knew that comfort would come and that my young and naive (with some additional urban maturity and navigation skills) country girl spirit of awe and wonder would come back to me, a better outlook on the challenges of the future.
The Blackhawks have been winning, and now, out of decency and respect for the sport, I know what
I'm talking about when it comes to hockey. Yes, I did some research
instead of doing homework. Sue me for being a Blackhawks fan and posting related videos more often than probably need be. Come on, it's hockey season!
