Day One Hundred and Twenty Nine - Mushroom Hunting With Dad

For all of my father's flaws, he was a good dad. And he was an excellent mushroom hunter. I remember going mushroom hunting with him and it was always fun. We didn't always find any, but when we did we feasted. And I loved the hunt. And I loved going with my dad.

I went mushroom hunting today, and it started off a little rocky. I was unsure, it had been so long since I'd been hunting. Would the old ground still be good? I was nervous, I had brought others with me. What if we all came away empty handed? I was anxious about it until I got into the woods and remembered my dad walking with me. He was not known as a patient man, but with me, mushroom hunting, patience was his virtue. I never felt bad if I didn't find any. He just put his arm around me and said, "We'll get 'em next time." He wasn't disappointed. You just don't find the elusive buggers every time you look, no matter how determined you may be. And it's okay. I felt much, much better after that and was able to truly enjoy the rest of the hunt. I'm thankful for my father's voice in the woods, telling me that he was proud of me no matter the result. It was the experience, the hunt, the time together that mattered. 

I also spent time with my heavenly Father today and He (per usual) surprised me again. The first thing He said to me wasn't a condemnation of all the ways I've failed, or a list of all the things He wants me to do. Instead, He asked a very simple question, "How are you?" Of course He knows, but He wants me to tell Him. He wants me to let Him in, to share, to express myself, like any other good Father wants from His child. Not every conversation with God has to be about moving or growing or finding the spiritual jack pot. Sometimes, it's just about the time together. Sometimes, He just wants to listen. Let you know He's there, that He cares. 

And that... that's what I really needed today. So thanks dad for teaching me how and where to hunt for mushrooms, and Dad, thanks for listening. 

Day One Hundred and Twenty Eight - Foundation

After pondering last night's post this morning as I was driving around (more of my revelations about life happen in the car...) I stumbled upon another one. The post "What I've Made" was all about how lovely I am, which is true. And I'm not trying to invalidate the point at all. It's very true. But... I can't help but think that perhaps I was seeing something else entirely.

Rather than being anything close to any sort of finished work, or really even work in progress... I think the real point is that I am nothing but a foundation. Sure, two years ago, a wrecking ball was taken to my life. But there is more to tearing down in order to rebuild than a wrecking ball. My foundation had to be completely remade, everything that was weighing me down was slowly stripped off, layer by layer, until the original me was found.

Yes, a great many things have been added to me, for which I am thankful, but in retrospect the vast majority of the work that I've undergone in the past few years weren't about adding unto, but were about taking away the lies and the pain and being able to start new. Being able to start with me and the truth. No more negativity from asshole boyfriends, or past mistakes weighing me down. The lies have been removed and so, though I haven't had any added burdens to increase my strength, not bearing burdens that were never mine to bear in the first place, I find I have a lot more strength to deal with life.

And very recently, the ability to see myself with grace, and thusly have a lot more grace toward everyone. When I'm not mad at myself anymore, when I don't feel the need to punish myself anymore, I find I have no desire to be angry at or punish anyone else, either. Except those 3 bitches that damn near killed the hearts of good men. But that's a righteous anger against evil. Everything else... isn't mine to deal with. I give it to God.

A very long time ago I was told, "I have hidden your heart away in a place where there was no hurt, where no sin was committed. It is whole, it is safe, with Me. And I will return it to you when the love of a woman is needed rather than the love of her God." And I realized the truth of that today. I have been protected. My heart is not a cold dead thing, but rather a new, tender, fresh thing. It has been given back to me.

I want to get some rest, bask in this glorious weightlessness, and get excited. If this is just the foundation, what on earth is He going to build?

Day One Hundred and Twenty Seven - Shake It Out

Florence and the Machine blew me away today. I've always enjoyed the song "Shake It Out", but today, as I was driving, the words really seemed to settle deep inside of me. Especially the lines, "Every demon wants its pound of flesh", "And I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart".

I can forgive anyone anything. But I rarely ever forgive myself. And every demon wants its pound of flesh. But every pound of flesh has already been paid. To pay it again is to demean the original payment, which was more than enough. Christ paid every pound of flesh for me, for every mistake I'm ever going to make. He loves me. The problem was never His love, but mine.

So I am done with my graceless heart, tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart. No more dragging me down through all of the regrets, no more reliving my darkest moments, no more thinking I am somehow the most special person on the planet that I alone cannot be forgiven.

No. My heart has learned better than that by now. I am loved. I am forgiven. And it's about time I started treating myself as if He really did already do the work. No more. It's time to restart. It's time to take the hurting void where my heart used to be, and replace it with the soft and tender flesh, made new.

Day One Hundred and Twenty Six - She Let Me Cry

There are not enough healthy relationships between mothers and their daughters. I'm incredibly blessed to say that the relationship I have with my mother is not only healthy but beautiful. I adore her and she adores me, but more importantly, there is a very strong level of mutual respect.

Granted, I could start a twitter called "shit my mom says" that would be an overnight sensation since sometimes the things that come out of her mouth just... cease to make sense. For example: Mom: "Someone was knocking on the door last night." Me: "Who was it?" Mom: "I don't know, I didn't answer the door." Me: "Because...?" Mom: "Because when someone is knocking on the door you don't just open it!" At that point, I just pointed and laughed. It took her a few seconds to figure out why, and then she just stomped her foot like a three year old and said, "Oh, you know what I meant!" She's precious. Ridiculous, but precious.

But more importantly, there is an incredible amount of respect between us. I respect her, and she respects me. Moreso than I've ever known any other mother to have for her daughter. Because... she let me cry. She let me absolutely fall apart. When I was going through my summer of intense depression, she didn't bug me constantly to get a job. She mentioned it every few weeks, but only barely, and then let it go. She often left me alone, knowing that I didn't want a witness to my tears. She gave me the gas money to get to my friend's house because she knew that for whatever reason, being with him seemed to help. She didn't lecture me for drinking at 9am with the tears in my eyes, and when I'd rant/cry at night, she'd just listen. I'm sure it broke her heart to watch her daughter fell apart, but I'm so glad she let me. Because when I finally started to pull myself back together, it was because I was ready. I was strong enough to pick myself up by my bootstraps and keep going.

I have no idea what would have happened had she forced me into faking being okay. Into numbing myself into acting normal. I shudder to think of it. She let me fall apart. She let me cry. She didn't try and fix me. She knew that she couldn't. She trusted that God loved me more than she did, and left me in His hands. And He has truly done a beautiful work with a girl who absolutely fell to pieces. He put me back together, better than I was before. Because no hands were interfering with His. She let me cry. She let Him work.

Thanks Mom. You're the best.

Day One Hundred and Twenty Five - Whoa There, Speedy

Some days there is just so much going on that everything around me is a mess by the time I get done with the day. That's definitely today. My inbox is still an absolute mess. My kitchen sort of exploded due to the awesome cookies that we made. My living room is a mess of towels and blue dye. And goodness knows my head is in a swirl. And I really don't have the energy to fix it all tonight. 

Or do I? What can I possibly get done tomorrow if all I wake up to is a mess? Perhaps today, I need to dig deep, and get my world spinning the way I like it, and then get some deep sleep. Yea, we're going to go with that. 

That's how it usually works with me. After a day of utter mania, the only way to slow down is to clean up the mess I made. Most likely so I can make it again tomorrow. 

Day One Hundred and Twenty Four - And All These Things Shall Be Added Unto You

Exodus 37 blows my mind. A) Because it's one of the most repetitive and dry chapters in the whole Bible and B) because if you look past (a) the POINT of the chapter is mind blowing even if the content is mind numbing. See, almost all of chapter 37 is a repeat of chapter 25. Except that chapter 25 starts "They shall make" (25:10) and 37 starts "Bezalel made" (37:1). In chapter 25, God told them what to make. In chapter 37, God gives them the ability and knowledge and they make it. That is my life's ambition. That is the crux of the New Testament. Right there. In Exodus. God says, God empowers, we do. It doesn't work any other way. We cannot do what God says without God empowering us. God does not empower us to do our own will, but His. God says, God empowers, we do. Simple. Beautiful. Mind blowing. I want to be exactly like Bezalel. That guy, who is never mentioned again, is my hero. He rocks my friggen socks off. 

But sometimes, in my own ambition, to be the best that I can be for God, to make the best decisions I can, I become my own stumbling block. In my desire to please Him, I forget and neglect His promises of help and care. I forget how big He is and how I never have to choose between obedience and joy. 

Allow me to explain my particular form of idiocy. It's not excuse, but in my short lifetime I have seen countless examples of unhealthy or failed relationships. And I decided at a young age that there was no way I was going to do that. I'd rather be single than be with someone who was going to drag me down. But I am fully convinced that I was made to be married, someday. But in my developing mind, somewhere along the line, I made the connection that the couples who serve God together have the healthiest relationships, the ones that survive when all the rest fail. So I made that a real point, that I'd have to be with someone whose faith I respected, and who respected mine, so that we could serve together. What I lost sight of, however, was love. Somehow, somewhere, my brain made the distinction between my duty to serve God and my desire to be loved, and for whatever reason, made them mutually exclusive. 

According to my warped perception, it was then a choice. Would I choose duty and obedience, or love? (Granted, now that I've realized it, it seems incredibly obvious, but it wasn't ever this blatantly presented in my inner mind.) And though it came with a deep despair and resignation, I chose duty and obedience. 

But today, in the midst of my self imposed heart ache, God broke through the idiocy that is my thought process, and brought Himself back into it. And it was then, when faced with the God I've spent years getting to know, that it started to slowly dawn on me. God never asked us to choose between obedience and love. He especially never asked it of me personally. In my mind, He smiled sort of like you smile at the cute kid that just doesn't get the concept but pat them on the back for trying anyway, and did indeed pat me on the back for my misguided piety. "I'm glad you chose Me," He said, "But I was pretty emphatic about the fact that in choosing Me, you weren't losing anything. That's why I said, 'But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.'" (Matt 6:33) I was slack jawed by my own stupidity, by the limitations I felt the need to impose on Him. For I know His character, and He is my Father. And my Father doesn't want His daughter in a loveless marriage; He wants her to be loved truly, deeply, and completely for her entire life. He wants her to be deeply in love with her husband. And that's the point, by choosing first to love God, He teaches us how to love like He does. Truly, deeply, and completely, forever. So that we can love each other in that same way. 

And that's when my heart damned near stopped with joyous gratitude. Because of who God is, I get both. It's that simple. There is no choice, no self imposed nonsensical piety, only good gifts from the Father on the undeserving. I will continue to seek Him first, but no longer with the misguided notion that I will somehow miss out on anything. Rather, my joy is made complete in the truth and promise that He will indeed fulfill my deep longing to be in a God centered, love filled marriage. God's goodness never ceases to awe and humble me. 

My parting thought is this: imagine how much I could learn if I wasn't constantly screwing up the basics. 

Day One Hundred and Twenty Three - Thou Shalt Not Covet

I break this rule all the time. I'm not proud of it, but it's true. I covet when people lay down $100 at the bar like it's nothing. I covet people who can walk into a room of people they don't know and within minutes have everyone think they're amazing. I covet anyone who doesn't naturally have a unibrow. But mostly... I covet people in love. I covet people who are married. I covet people who have love starring them in the face and out of fear refuse to grab onto it. I covet the giddy high of new love, and the hard fought battle of long love. I covet everything about it.

Because for whatever new reason my insanity clings to today, I can't have it. Whether it's because I'm hung up on someone else, or because I know what I need and can't find it, or because I like being single, it really doesn't matter the reason. All I know is that where my girly heart ought to be, the heart of a 23 year old with so much love to give that ought to be at least crushing on someone, is a cold thing that is hard as stone. An old, jaded thing that has completely given up hope. A hopeless grey weight that has slowly withered from years of constant disappointment. In myself. In others. In hope.

So I covet, and pray to God that there might be hope yet. That perhaps it isn't all gone. That perhaps this dead thing can come to life once more. That somehow, some day, a new fire will break from it, shattering the ice that surrounds it in layer after layer. That perhaps, just maybe, it can beat, and skip a beat, and race, and do all the things that a heart ought to, rather than just slowly ache itself into nothingness.

If there is anything I've learned in this life, it is that numbness is infinitely more harmful to the soul than pain. So I guess that's my only encouraging word tonight, just in case anyone else feels the same way. If it still hurts, you're still alive. And if you're still alive, there is hope for you yet. Even if all you see is grey. After all, grey can be beautiful in its own way. They grey of a foggy morning shimmers. Yes. There is hope for us yet.

Oh yea, and I'll... try to covet less. I'll try to covet less, and you try to realize that no matter how bad your life may seem, there is someone who covets it.

Day One Hundred and Twenty Two - Hunger

Sometimes, the inner battle is simply exhausting. Today is one of those days. Today the battle is simple, I am longing. It's a sort of nameless need, but it is there and it is insistent and part of me feels as if this thing that I so desperately want seems denied to me. 

And there's the battle. Do I really believe that God will provide? Do I really believe that He has placed this godly desire on my heart? Do I really believe that He is willing and able? Do I really believe that only He can fill me? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. And so, wearied, I remember: I can stop fighting. I'm never going to win. But He is. And He can. And He has. All I have to do is turn my eyes to Him and give Him the burden. He will bear it. 

What is exhausting you that you are you forgetting to give to Him?

 

Day One Hundred and Twenty One - When The Bittersweet Becomes Just Sweet

Tonight (this morning) I am utterly relaxed. The most relaxed I've been in weeks. This is the feeling I long to get every weekend and most often fail. All I want to do is curl up and sleep because I know its going to be the best sleep I've gotten in weeks.

I couldn't tell you why I was... less than relaxed today. And I couldn't exactly explain what relaxed me. But, as usual, I've got a theory. See, as I was driving home from the bar (I had been a temporary/just in case DD), I realized that I very much did not want to go home yet. So I called a friend who I had heard was having a bonfire to ask him if he was still up, if the bonfire was still going, and if I could come over. I love fire. Fire, in and of itself, relaxes me. So that was step one. When I got there, I thanked the friend for letting me come over. It had been a while, but I've always thoroughly enjoyed his company. He just looked at me, smiled a little, and said, "Val, I didn't let you come over. You're always welcome here." And it just... felt so good. That was step two.

And step three was experiencing something that is usually tinged with bittersweet memories in a brand new, no bitter, just sweet way. A bonfire, with mostly people I didn't know, and just chilling. It was amazing. It was relaxing. And the people there were musicians, so for hours I was serenaded with guitars, a drum, and a harmonica, played by people who are VERY good at making music. But the real 'wow' moment came when they decided to learn "Wagon Wheel" (one of my all time favorite bittersweet memories) and I started singing. And they started singing. And it was "Wagon Wheel" but with an amazing beat and a new life infused into it. There was no bitter, just sweet. It felt like a load suddenly lifted from my chest as I sang it, and an utter and deep relaxation filled me.

There was no need to vocalize anything that I'd been feeling all day. There was no talking. Just singing, with my heart. It was nice to be able to... keep it to myself and just enjoy the company and talents of those around me. It was simply beautiful. And there was fire. And I had expressed myself, just in a way I never have before. A way without explanations or stories or any need to be listened to, a way that was just for me. I loved it. And double bonus points: my voice was good enough that I was invited to come sing with them again. Let me tell you, that is an offer I will be taking up.

Day One Hundred and Twenty - Make Me A Sammich

It's been a while, but even so, I'll keep this rant short and sweet.

I get made fun of a lot for being rather... guy-ish. Have you ever seen that movie "He's Just Not That Into You"? You remember the part where it cut to 'regular' women sitting on benches talking about different lines guys have used to break up with them? I've used each and every one of those. Usually not for break ups but for turn downs but the point remains. I have. Every. Single. One.

I'm not a huge fan of sappy or cheesy lines. And I'll tell you why - a line takes absolutely no effort what so ever. It can be reused on a hundred girls. I hate lines, even the super cute ones. It's sort of weird, since verbal affirmation is one of my highest rated love languages. But a sappy one liner isn't a verbal affirmation. It's a LINE.

Maybe it does make me a guy, but if anyone is going to use something cheesy on me, I'd rather they shut their mouth, get off their butt, and make me a grilled cheese sammich. That will prove your love a hell of a lot more than a line.

Day One Hundred and Nineteen - Enjoy What You're Given

We've been given an abnormally warm end of winter beginning of spring. It's not exactly great for our eco system, but since I can't control it, I'm just going to enjoy it. 

I enjoyed a warm rain in late March. I enjoyed a thunderstorm in February. I enjoy the quiet all around. I enjoy the green grass. 

And that's our very quick lesson for the day: take each day as it comes and enjoy what you're given in each one. Enjoy the sun, stand in the rain, marvel at the morning mist, and watch the stars under clear skies. Enjoy what you're given. Unless it's hailing. Then you really ought to get your butt inside. 

Day One Hundred and Eighteen - The Difference Between Attractive and Attracted

No, I am not splitting hairs. It's important. To me at least, I'm guessing it is to you too. I know there are those who say there can be no platonic friendships between men and women but... well... in my circle, it definitely happens a lot. And it's not because I hang out with a bunch of unattractive guys. Quite the opposite, actually. I hang out with some extraordinarily good looking fellas.

But just because they are attractive guys doesn't mean I am attracted to them. It's sort of like being able to do so with your own gender (if straight). I can tell you which girls are attractive, but I'm not attracted to them. Unless you're talking about Anna Torv. I'd switch teams for her. Just saying.

How do I articulate what I'm thinking? What I'm feeling? It's more than just a thought, it's an entire way of interacting with people. Per usual, we're going to default to the Original Sparkly Marshmallow because he's OSM (pronounced 'awesome'). As everyone on this blog is incredibly aware, I freaking adore the OSM. I hope he has some tiny comprehension of who he is to me... of how much he is to me. I digress. The OSM is a rather attractive dude. He's got the body, he's got the face, and most importantly, he has the attitude. There is no getting around the fact: he's sexy. Be it in a black button down and jeans or basketball shorts and a cut off T Shirt - the man is sexy. And yet... I'm not attracted to him.

*GASP* says the world. How can I simultaneously say someone is sexy and not be attracted to them!? It must be his personality, right? There must be some crazy flaw? Extreme narcissism? Anger management problems? Substance abuse?

No. There's not some crazy flaw. He's the OSM for goodness sake, people, you should have seen this one coming. In fact, his... inside is so much more attractive than his outside that I'm REALLY glad the whole world doesn't see it. He sort of has trouble having women throw themselves at him the way it is. If they saw what I saw... he's be mobbed to death faster than Robert Pattinson in an all girls 8th grade for the slightly mentally impaired.

So what is it? Truth, I'm not sure. I've got a theory though. I love the OSM. Not the idea of the OSM. I love him for who he really is, not for who I want him to be, not for who he could be. And I know what I need in a partner, in a boyfriend, in a husband, and it's not the OSM. And to want to change him wouldn't be loving him as well as he deserves. And he really does deserve to be loved well.

We all do. That's the point. Stop falling in love with pretty faces and wanting them to be who you need or want, and start looking at people for who they are. And loving them for who they are. And letting them love you for who you are. There is a lot less hurt all around this way. And there is a lot more opportunity. If he had written me off from the beginning because we were incompatible for anything more than friends... I feel it's safe to say we'd have both been missing out on one hell of a friendship.

Live life and start friendships with an open hand. You'll be surprised.

Day One Hundred and Seventeen - Tsk Tsk

'Tsk tsk tsk' I can almost hear God say, 'When are you going to learn that the only approval you need is Mine?'

Day One Hundred and Sixteen - Time

Time has been on my mind a lot lately.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Every second on the damn clock rushing us faster and faster toward things we could never control in the first place. Closer to our end. Closer to crashing into people we'll end up loving, into people we'll end up hurting, into people we'll never even get the chance to know. Into people who will change us, into times that will try us, into those beautiful moments that could have never been planned. There is no end to the constant racing of the clock. It never stops; it slows for no man. Time will eventually get the best of all of us, whether we look back with regret or satisfaction is entirely up to us, entirely up to how we use the little time given to us.

I know I've spoken before of all the things that I want to do in this short time given to me, but sometimes I am conflicted on how I want to spend that time. Like right now for instance. I am ready for a real relationship, but am I ready for the sacrifice that will entail? Am I really ready to give up my hidden hours? Am I really ready to give up singleness? Going where I please, when I please, with whom I please? *sigh* Even as I ask myself those questions, the answer is like the deep, bone rattling gong of a clock striking midnight, and yet quiet as a whisper in the wind. Yes.

The time is come. The clock is now counting down the very hours of this chapter of my life. Yes, yes, it sounds overly dramatic, and perhaps it is. But I'm a girl in her early twenties, deal with it.

You know how you get really excited about something new? Let's say for instance... graduation (from highschool or college or really anything). In the months leading up to it, it's all you want. To be done. To have finally reached that milestone. Halle-freaking-lujah. And then, in the final weeks it begins to hit you. This is really it. There is no coming back, these people will disperse, and new friends must be found. And you get all sentimental and suddenly everything is roses and do you really have to leave? Couldn't these last moments last just a little longer? Are you really ready to say goodbye and start a new chapter? And then, when it comes time to move, to really have your life change, you get a knot in the pit of your stomach. It's exciting, it's terrifying, and you suddenly question, even for a moment, every decision that led you to this. Were they the right ones? It's too late now, and you try and push it from your mind, and stand up and be brave, but part of you, even if it's a small part, is wondering if everything wouldn't be better if it never changed. If things just stayed the same. You know it's impossible. Change has to happen. There is no freezing it. But still, the knot tightens. So this is it.

That's what I feel like. Of course, I'm incredibly excited for change. It's time. Something has gotta give. But it's also terrifying. There's no turning back now. There is only forward. But there is a knot of trepidation, and my smile falters as I try and be brave. I have to be brave. Because I cannot control the change, but I can control who I am. I can control how I meet it.

And though there are things that I never want to change, I was never under the illusion that they wouldn't. And as much as I may not like to admit it... I am ready. So come, dammit. Come, change. Don't leave me waiting. Come with the fierceness I've learned to appreciate. But come swiftly. Don't give me time to back down, come now while the braveness is still in my bones. Come now, while my arms are still open wide. Come now, while I am still looking forward. Don't give me time to falter. Please.

Please. 

Day One Hundred and Fifteen - I'm Not Going To Spend My Whole Life Here

A few weeks ago, I spent 3 days at my brother's house. I mostly talked to my sister in law, but I spent a little time with my brother as well. When I told him I didn't always want to live here, his reaction was... strong. He always expected me to be near. I'm family. That's what family does. 

The truth is, I'll always love my brother, and he'll always be family. But I won't always be near. Truth be told, I have got to get out of here. This place... it's not that it's not enough. A place is what you make of it. But this place is safe and I can't live the life I really want to when I'm safe. When nothing has to change. When I don't have to take risks. When the past is a ghost on every corner. 

There is more of me somewhere, but I have to go and find it and work for it and pull it out of the deeper parts of me. I don't know when, I can't leave while I have bills to pay, but that's why I'm getting job #2. To pay off and to save up. I know it won't be in the next hundred days, or maybe even the hundred after that. But I can tell you, I will post a picture of me by the sea, near my new home, sometime in this next 885 days. 

Cause sometimes, to be all you can be, you've got to shake things up, take a leap of faith, and chase the saltwater. I won't live my whole life here. I can't. As much as I love routine, there is a part of me that cannot be found in the midwest. It has to be found on a beach. 

Truth be told... I think I have to go find my heart. I need it, you see, so I can at the very least have a chance to give it away. 

Day One Hundred and Fourteen - Mouse or Dynamite?

There are two types of people in the world in this drastic over-generalization I am about to make to make a point.  One type knocks politely at the door of your heart until you let them in. The other uses whatever means at their disposal to get in. And those are the people I want to talk about.

I like those people. I am one of those people. My friend Sammy used to explain it like this: "I am a brick of dynamite, I blow the doors open and start snooping before you even know what hit you, and once I'm in, I won't stop. You, on the other hand, are like a mouse. You sneak in and start working long before anyone is aware of your presence, and when they figure out you're in there, you're too damn cute to kick out." Granted, that is one hell of a paraphrase, but I'm over it. Because frankly, for the most part, it's true.

Turns out as a Mouse, I tend to gravitate toward Dynamite. Well, no. Turns out I simply found another one. As a mouse, I'm very protective of my own door and open that door very infrequently and even when I do, only a tiny sliver of a crack at a time. I manipulate conversations and situations to make sure we stay far away from the stuff that I really don't want to talk about, the stuff I really don't want anyone to know about. Damn Dynamite. See the problem with Dynamite is that you don't have to open the door. You don't have to unlock it. You just have to let them get close enough to the door and they do the rest.

They break in, and you're so assaulted by their very presence that you're defenseless. You just stand there as they begin to rummage and dig and sort and snoop. It takes a while for you to even register what has happened, what is happened. And the Dynamite are freaking Ninjas. They're in, doing their digging, rearranging, hell even just casting a little light on the place, and by the time you realize what has happened, they've screwed the hinges back on the door like nothing ever happened.

As much as Dynamite pisses me off due to it's extreme violation of my tightly held control and the disruption of things, deep things, hidden things, that haven't seen light in a very long time, I am thankful for those assholes. Without them, no one would ever get in, the dark would stay dark, I would have no help, no light to shed on things long buried. I hate what they do, but I love the fact that they do it.

Day One Hundred and Thirteen - Who Am I To You?

That's today's question ladies and gents. Who am I to you? And I don't mean whether I'm your friend, sister, cousin, mortal enemy, crush, etc. What I mean is...Well I'm not sure I can really explain it in a single sentence or two. Maybe I can only explain it by example.

Two days ago I embarked on an adventure. I call it that not because it was a long trip, or a trip to a far away place, or a trip to do adventurous things, but a trip in which I had no control. I didn't know exactly where we were going, or when we'd get there, or what we were going to do. I didn't even drive. (For those of you who understand the significance of that, I have a witness. Didn't even touch the steering wheel. Or the radio. I KNOW.) Willingly letting go of control is not something that comes naturally to a control freak like myself. But trusting someone enough to give over control is something that is essential in my spiritual life, and something that is necessary to learn in my emotional life. I trust the Original Sparkly Marshmallow. So I got in the car and went along for the ride.

Two days with the Originally Sparkly Marshmallow. I knew it was destined to be amacing (I hate you right now) but had no idea how significantly so. In two days, the answer to the question of "Who am I?" got a lot clearer. Well. Let's answer the question. Who am I?

Who am I? I am Valerie Rose. I live in Iowa. I am my mother's only daughter and my brother's only sister. I am a big piece of a small business. I am an aunt. I am a friend. I am a Christian. It's a short list. In the grand scheme of things, I am nothing special, and certainly the world has no reason to take any notice of me what so ever. But who I am matters to me. Because it is my life, and I am the only one who gets to decide who I am beyond the paperwork of birth certificate, driver's license, and criminal record. (I speed a lot, don't judge.)

But let's face it. I can't see myself very clearly at all. If you read the blog regularly, you'll have seen the post about all the things that I am. About who I am and how I see me. That was a good day. Not all days are that clear. In fact, the vast majority of them aren't. And we as human beings have a lot of walls that keep us from being more honest with each other about this, about who we are, what we mean to each other. So when I get the rare chance of having someone tell me who I am to them, I pay attention.

The answer to 'Who am I to you?' by the Original Sparkly Marshmallow was honestly shocking to me. Some of it I already knew. Other parts I had no idea about. The only part that I am going to share with you is my shock when he told me that I had helped him with his faith. This was shocking to me because it answered a completely separate question, one that I have always been more than a little terrified of. "Who am I to God?" I have the answers memorized. I am His daughter. I am forgiven. I am special, I am loved, I am made in His image. But I've never really thought of myself of being much good to Him. As a Christian, I am mostly a fuck up who constantly has to get up and try again because I constantly fail at living up to my own standards. I often pray to be forgiven for being a stumbling block to others because I just cannot seem to live by example. I just screw up too often. And so, though I'd never admit it out loud, whenever I thought about the question, "Who am I to God?" the silent response of my heart was, "A disappointment."

But tonight, He corrected me. Tonight, He showed me that He can use me, so long as I am willing. I'm never going to be the perfect Christian. Ever. But so long as I am willing, so long as I earnestly desire to please Him and to show Him to others to the best of my ability, He can use me. So yes, all the other answers are still true.  I am a daughter of God, I am loved, I am forgiven. But tonight, another answer was added, one that means far more to me, for I had to learn it. "Who am I to God?" I am His witness.

If one friend's answer to "Who am I to you?" can teach me something so... wonderful, then I'm all for more learning. And let's face it, I'm really, really curious. So tell me, who am I to you? And if you work up the courage to ask, I'll tell you who you are to me.

Day One Hundred and Twelve - Bad Morning

The only conclusion I can come to this morning is that I must have pissed someone off. (Perhaps something as I'm not completely clear on whether or not demons are classifiable as people.) But oh, oh, they were angry this morning.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a morning person. I try, I really do. And I'm usually happy in the mornings, but it's a quiet, 'give me an hour to be social' sort of happy. A quiet happiness at the morning. This morning, I woke to nothing but... condemnation and degradation.

There are things I've never been good at. Money management has never been a strong point. I don't bounce checks, I don't have multiple overdue (or even a single overdue or maxed out) credit cards, I pay all of my bills and I pay them on time, every time. I'm just consistently broke (which is why we're very excited about a second job opportunity!), can't help small splurges (usually at the grocery store), and really suck at tithing/giving. It's really... well it's shameful. I am ashamed with how I spend the small amount entrusted to me. How is it that I can always find an extra five bucks for more chicken breast, or an extra bottle of honey, or that now rare diet coke, but can never find it when it comes time to give it away? I know that I am a poor steward of the resources entrusted to me. It is a sin that I confess often, and look forward to God's transforming work there. Even if it just involves a husband who is good with it and handing my checkbook over to him. I'm okay with that. I know I suck at it. I know I have to change.

And I know I don't pray enough. I pray constantly, but with little focus. I know I really need to spend concentrated, dedicated time in prayer. For others, for myself, for my city, to just talk to Him and really listen.  But I'm trying with that one too. As it gets warmer and warmer I look forward to getting back into my hammock prayer time. I put thought into each day. There is far more time dedicated to it now than a year ago, or even a month ago. Not every change in the Christian life is that of Paul, sometimes it takes years.

Most people know that I'm harder on myself than anyone ever could be on me. And my faults and failures do often bother me. But I've learned that beating myself up, putting myself down, heaping extra punishment upon myself, or any other destructive behavior doesn't help, but only damages more. I've gotten a lot better at just giving it to God with sincere confession and repentance. That's why this morning was just so startling. I didn't sleep well. I woke up near panic. PANIC. About a bill that needs to be paid in 2 weeks, which I will have the money to pay in 2 weeks. About the half sink full of dirty dishes. About needing to remake my work calendar. I'm no longer panicked, as the light of day has revealed the silliness of those anxieties.

But I find myself still close to tears because it was more than just a misplaced morning panic. It was insults and condemnation. "How can somehow who fucks up so often still call themselves a Christian? If God cannot entrust to you $5 then how can He give you the gift of salvation? You're such a fuck up. That's all you are, one giant fuck up. A stupid, selfish bitch." That is a small, small sample. That's a relatively clean sample at that. Even though the morning has revealed the silliness of the anxiety, waking up to someone (thing) hurling insults at you isn't exactly a solid way to start the day, and is a lot harder to forget.

I'm not sure why I'm writing this. It's not for comfort. I know the anxiety and attacks were lies. And not very convincing ones at that. It took morning grogginess to give them any power. And they're losing what little power is left as the sun rises. I guess... I just want to encourage you. We all have bad mornings, bad nights, bad days. We all have those days when everything seems to be attacking, when the anxieties are overwhelming, when the self loathing is stronger than the truth of who you are. Don't let them get to you, don't let the lies overpower the truth. Don't let them take what you've worked so hard for. Because you have worked so hard for who you are. You have worked so hard to overcome the obstacles and build a life to be proud of. We both have. So as the sun continues to rise, let the lies vanish like the dew, and let our hearts be turned toward the Son who shines all truth. Let us sit at His feet and listen to what He has to say about us.

Day One Hundred and Eleven - Places

As in all of our lives, my life has been marked by certain events that changed me. They're not always the most dramatic moments, or the happiest, or the saddest. Sometimes, it's the culmination of a bunch of little ones that add up to something significant. To a single moment, where all of them come together. And believe it or not, I am incredibly sentimental, and hold tightly to these memories. To those people. Some, I get to keep in my life; others were for a single season, never to be heard from again.

But tonight, it is not the people who fill my mind, but the places. The places that because of singular moments, have become, in their own way, holy to me. Sacred. In the Old Testament, when people had great moments of revelation of God, they would build altars and name the place to remember, and have their children remember, and generations remember, what had happened there. That's what these places are to me. They are altars, that every time I visit, I am reminded.

Room 202 in my old high school. I went there today, to visit my favorite teacher of all time. She and I got to catch up, and it was lovely. I even sat through one of her classes. That woman taught me how to think. Okay, she taught me how to think critically on my feet. It was there, in that room, that I discovered an enduring love of logic, and for the first time in a long time, found a place where I belonged. After we talked, I left for a little bit, to visit other teachers that I remember fondly, and when I came back to say goodbye to her, the room was empty. And it was striking. It still had the same feel, the same exact smell of paper and copy ink and dust and old stage make up and dry erase markers. It was still, the way it used to be at 5am before we left for debate tournaments. It was incredibly comforting. So many places change with time, and become something far different than you remember them. But this one, for now at least, remains completely unchanged. Untouched by time. It is one of my altars.

Another is the bottom of the steps to my apartment. I cannot tell you how many times I have sat on those steps and had deep, intimate God talks with friends. An entire summer was filled of nights with those steps. Though no longer every time I walk on them, every time the air is right, the temperature is warm, the stars are out, and the city is quiet (which is more often than you'd think) I am again brought back to that time and worship. It is one of my altars.

There is a bridge, close to the home in which I grew up. It is on gravel, the lowest bridge in the county. It's in the middle of nowhere, literally fifteen minutes from the closest small town. It goes over the interstate. Which is awesome because during a break in traffic, if you look up, you can see every star in the sky. You can see the milky way with your naked eye. And when the semi trucks rush underneath, less than 18 inches from your feet, you cannot help the slight surge of adrenaline. Especially if you look down. I love going here, and have shared this particular altar with a great many friends. It's beautiful. It's one of the most beautiful places on earth, second only in my heart to my most sacred altar, Chapel By The Lake.

These are only some. There is a summer camp in Florida, in particular a single room of a single building, which will always be near and dear to me. There is a porch on a dilapidated house in the center of this town. There is a single home on a lake in Arkansas. There is a room in a building called POOR house in West Palm Beach. There is a park in a small town in northeast Iowa.

These places serve as a witness and a reminder: to never forget what happened here. To never forget that I was changed. To never forget the events, people, and moments that changed me. Throughout my life, I hope to have a great many more altars made, because I never want to stop learning and growing. There is seemingly an infinite amount of room in my heart for altars, so let them come. Let me be changed, let me learn, let me be forever moved closer and closer to the heart of my God. And let me never forget a single one of them.

Day One Hundred and Ten - Good, Good God

Oh how many things are on my mind today. It's a jumble in there. (Not that it's very different from most days, but you know.) I woke up late this morning, my body was telling me it was long past my 7, it was 8 and it was time to get up. My clock told me it was 9. Dammit.

Every morning I start my day with a routine. I grab my phone, read a devo, (during Lent read a special Lent devo), pray for about 10 seconds, and read the headlines on Foxnews and USA today. By the time I actually got out of bed, it was 9:30 and it had already occurred to me that there was no way I would be able to get everything done today that I needed to do.

I got right to it anyway, though, determined to get as much accomplished as humanly possible. I'm writing this blog so early because I plan on working through The Voice and then going to bed.

Bed is pretty much my favorite part of the day. Not just because I love sleep so much. I do, and anyone that knows me knows I need far more sleep than the average person. But my before bed routine is my favorite part of the day. It's when I get to leave the day at the door of my bedroom (did I mention how sparkling clean it is right now?!) and walk into my haven. No worries here. A cool breeze coming from my bedroom window, clean sheets and fluffy covers, and my bible. I started a regular reading plan at the beginning of the year because I knew my time in the Word was lacking. Okay, it was more than lacking. It was practically non-existent. It has become something so much more than a plan. It has become a joy, and a deeply needed refresher at the end of every day. Like a glass of cool water. And so much more. I learn more and more about the God I serve and who He is. His character. His people. What was written down about what He has been doing throughout history. His plan. The revelations of Himself throughout history. His glory. His justice. His holiness.

I have completely fallen in love. I'm reading parts I never have (the law in Exodus, and the entire book of Job)  and parts I've read a hundred times (the book of Luke) but what I find continuously amazing is how new it is all the time. Stories that I've read over and over always have something new for me. Even if it's just a renewed sense of comfort from the stories. He was, He is, and He always will be. And He loves me. And He loves you. And all He asks is that we love and trust Him.

I admit, some of the stories confuse me. They were messages for times and peoples far removed from my own, with cultures and customs that seem as foreign to me to as a separate planet. But the themes are constant, even if the messages get a little lost in translation. (My translations, of course. There are people that study this stuff for a living and they tell me their brief opinions in the commentary, and they are incredibly helpful. It is my knowledge that is limited.) God is Holy. God is Just. God is Good. God is God.

And because even the stories I've known and read since childhood are still new; I never have to stop. There will never come a day when I say "I now know all there is to know from the Bible, it is time to move on." Ever. I'm not that smart. If Augustine, Luther, and Piper didn't get there, there is no chance that I ever will. Not with ten lifetimes. Not with a hundred. In fact, if there is anything to learn from those amazing men, it is that as I age, the full weight will dawn on me on how much there is to be found in that holy book.

It is a gift that never ceases to give. It is a gift that gives the more time you give it. It is a gift that reveals the more you seek. It is a gift that has everything you need, from comfort to strength, principles to confidence, songs of joy and sorrow. It has the answer to who you are and who you were made to be. It has the answer of where are you going, and who loves you the most. It reveals the truth about love, and the truth of truth, and the truth of life.

So marvel with me for this absolutely amazing gift, this gift that will never cease to give. Thank you, God, for this gift. Thank you for giving me a source of joy and knowledge and comfort that will never run dry. 

Day One Hundred and Nine - It's More Than Just A Bad Idea

Little known fact: I am allergic to alcohol.

Lesser known fact: Alcohol allergy is an actual thing.

Yesterday, it all got out of my hands faster than I could think. I went to my old work place (a bar) to visit my friends, and before I knew it, I was surrounded by regulars and drinking far more than I knew I could handle. I don't remember exactly, but I think it was around 6 drinks in 5 hours. Which is WAY more than my body can handle. Though I appeared drunk, it was my body reacting to the alcohol. Which as soon as I got home got far, far worse. My mother considered taking me to the hospital the effects were so drastic. My body was shutting down. And it was terrifying. I could feel my body reacting to the alcohol that, to me, is now an incredibly potent poison, and here was nothing I could do now. I just had to wait it out.

I was lucky this time. Very, very lucky. I'm not sure how many times my body can handle that. Alcohol, for me, has gone from a bad idea that will make me feel sick to something that I now approach as I would a gun. I'm not afraid of it, it's useful. But it something to be treated with extreme caution. To me, it has become something dangerous, something my body cannot tolerate, not even the smallest amounts.

But I also know it's a blessing. I have an incredibly addictive personality. And alcoholism runs in my family, fairly strongly. But now it is not anything that I will have to worry about or struggle with. Sure, some days I wish I could share a drink with my friends, but those days are fewer and fewer because it is just so much better if I stay away all together. It's not that I can't say no when there is alcohol around, I'm getting rather good at that. It's learning to say no, always no, to any craving. Because I really don't know how many times my body can take what I did to it last night. And I'm not going to hurt this body any more than I already have, not for something as trivial as alcohol.

Day One Hundred and Eight - Here Ya Go

I'm tired, my mind is full of things that I don't have the words to speak of. But mostly just tired. So here ya go. If you don't giggle, you don't get it. For the love of all that is good and sugary, don't tell me that you don't get it.

Day One Hundred and Seven - Patience

I'm terrible with patience. Instead of trying to convince you, allow me to illustrate the point with a little story about me as a kid.

We all know my deep and desperate love for all things Zelda. Well, when I was a kid, I had a gameboy. And Christmas was coming, and as I had handpicked my gift (Ocarina of Seasons) I just... couldn't wait. Every day after I came home from school and before mom came home from work I would, very carefully, unwrap the present, take the came out of its molded plastic by the careful cut I had made, take it out of the little cardboard box, and play it. Before she got home, I would put it away and package it and she never knew. By the time I opened it on Christmas morning, I had played it half way though.

I've never been good with patience. But after spending years waiting for something over which I have no control, it's gotten a hell of a lot easier. And that's how it works with patience. It's not something you receive, it's something you learn. Over time. And it's now been years, and the waiting has changed me.

Because it's not about getting to the end, anymore. I thought it was. But it's not. It never has been. It's about who I am when I get there. And... well... for the first time in my life, I'm really happy with who I am. I know that when I get there, I'll be ready. And that was worth all the waiting in the world.

Day One Hundred and Six - Tired at 9pm

Tonight, I was determined to stay up at least until 10pm watching TV and playing video games.

1) I now remember why I have never replayed Twilight Princess, that entire game makes no f*ing sense. The chickens...? Really? Chicken palace in the sky? I love you sometimes, Japan, but we've gotta talk about how much weird is too much weird. Back to OoT.

2) My interest in TV wanes. There are good shows on, but I couldn't care less. I just want to do my bible reading and get some sleep. Not because I have a lot to do tomorrow, I only have a mild amount to do tomorrow and timing isn't really important, I could wake up at 10am and still get it all done. But I want to, I want to go do my bible reading while I am still conscious and I want to get some sleep.

3) I wake up most days between 7 and 7:30. And frankly, I have no idea why. Who does that when they don't have to?! I start my job (at home) every day between 9 and 10am. There is no reason for me to get up at 7am other than because I want to. And I do. I find myself more productive, but... it's still nuts.

Or is it? Do you know how quiet this town is at 9pm? The world has a strange hush then, its just when the night owls are coming out. I don't remember where I first heard it but it is true (summer of 2009 exempted): "The probability of you doing something you'll regret drastically increases after 10pm." Don't get me wrong, there is something to be said for spontaneous behavior that lasts into the night. There is something to be said for staying up until the sun rises. But there is also something to be said in waking up to see it, and using the night as a quiet time for your soul.

My point is this: there is a time and a season for each. If it is your season of quiet, don't fight it. It is mine. But if it is your season for loud, don't let anyone look down on you for it. There is a time for quiet and a time for loud, a time for nights and a time for mornings, a time for coffee and a time for sleep. Personally, I like the quiet seasons better than the loud, but that too is a new development. Maybe I'm just getting old ;)

Day One Hundred and Five - When My Mind Leaves Today So Does My Peace

It's a fairly simple concept, and it is the entire message of today's incredibly brief blog.

When my mind leaves today, and goes to dwell in either the past or the future, my peace leaves with it. When I am focused on today, my heart is at rest and full of joy. It has everything it desires and sings constantly of the goodness of God. But when my mind begins to dwell on what ifs, my heart is thrown into confusion and doubt, and my peace vanishes.

The thing about that is planning is one thing, I'm a planner, I love planning, but worrying about tomorrow doesn't change tomorrow one bit. It doesn't make it better or worse; it only robs me of my peace.

And I sort of got addicted to peace. Tomorrow will take care of itself. I have everything I need today. Except enough sleep. And the one provision I am going to make for tomorrow is go to bed early today, so I don't have the same deficit in the morning.

Day One Hundred and Four - She Gets Me

I am a creature of routine. I thrive on it, to a certain extent. I like spontaneous, so long as it doesn't interfere with my routine. Today is Tuesday, there is a routine. Erica comes over between 2 and 4, and we do whatever we feel. Usually eat and watch Biggest Loser. It's true. Sometimes she'll stay late for a Disney movie, sometimes she goes home early as we're both tired. Today we had a date and went to see "The Vow", which was absolutely dreadful and depressing, and chatted, and got take out from Applebee's so we could indeed watch 'The Biggest Loser' as is our tradition.

And I just... enjoy her so much and really want everyone to know that. She is such a wonderful friend, and she can take my crappy days and my angry days and my spastic days and she laughs with me and rages with me and listens with me. She is an amazing friend; she gets me. She knows exactly who I am, and loves me anyway.

I look forward to Tuesday all week.

Thank you, Erica, for getting me and putting up with my crazy. I hope our Tuesdays never end.

Day One Hundred and Three - When You Have A Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

The first half of my day was fantastic. I learned of the birth of a very handsome Sparkly Marshmallow named Ezekiel and am very happy that he and his momma are doing well! Congratulations!

The second half of my day was not. I will not go into detail, for the situation itself is still incredibly messy, and it is not be aired publicly.

But what I can say is how it made me feel, that I believe, is in my right.

And I feel like shit. And this, friends, is why we have what I love to call 'emergency plans'. My emergency plan is my husker blanket, my stuffed elephant, and Winnie the Pooh's Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin. No matter what has happened, those things make me feel better. And they do. Granted, I switched out the Pooh for some Mythbusters, but the concept remains the same. I've had that emergency plan for years and it does indeed, always help.

But it doesn't fix. It calms me down enough, though, to where I can bring it to the Fixer. In this particular situation especially, it is completely out of my power to fix. But not His. Never His. It is always in His power to fix, and I hope it is His will as well. And when I have brought it to Him, and laid it down, and asked that He do the fixing, I get my peace back.

I've never been good with peace. With being at rest with God. But by some miracle (and the help of my friend Bruce) I found it. And it is addictive. It is awesome. It is the best thing I have ever found ever. It is joy and peace, and nothing is going to take that from me. Not even the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I invite you to do the same. Have an emergency plan. (Preferably one that does not involve binge drinking or any other bad choices.) And when you are calm, bring it all before the Fixer. And then, strive no more, but sleep well, and face a new day, hand in hand with the Fixer.

Day One Hundred and Two - Take One For The Team

I listened to a sermon today, as many of you may know, I struggle with church, but love good sermons. Mark Driscoll is my favorite. As usual, he struck home. For me personally, it was that I really really need to get my butt to church. It's an act of worship that I must start doing out of obedience. 

But that's not what I want to talk about, not today. The other thing that hit home was this: "'But I'll lose my job, or my friends, or my grade point average.' Yes! To the glory of God! You worship a God who was murdered! You lean over the plate, and you take one for the team. That is how that works." 

I LOVE this. I'm not sure when or how but somewhere along the way, the church lost sight of a very important teaching: we were never promised ease and comfort. We were promised the very opposite. A student is not greater than his master, and we are not greater than Jesus. He taught, He served, He was murdered, and He rose again. We are to serve, suffer, and rise. That's what we were promised. Suffering was PROMISED. 

Not that life can't be great, or comfortable. My life is both right now. But I'm not expecting this to last. This blessing is for a season. I want to suffer. Because it means I'm doing something right. If you never encounter opposition as a Christian, then something is terribly wrong. The truth is not popular. It calls for humility and submission. In America, neither of those ideas is terrible popular. It is not popular to be firm in your beliefs, or tell people that they are wrong. The notion of being 'slaves to Christ' isn't popular, and it never will be. Mostly because the idea that we are all slaves to something isn't popular, regardless of its truth. Christianity will never be popular, Jesus did indeed promise that. He was opposed, suffered, and was disgraced. You will be the same. 

And that is for your GOOD. It is humbling. It is uniting. God will bless it, that was promised. That all things meant for evil will be made to good for those that love Him. Even if we don't entirely understand, it is still true. Do what is right, even if it is unpopular. Speak the truth, live the truth, even if it is unpopular. Be one person, do not have a christian face and a non christian face. Do all things for the glory of God.

I'm not perfect, I've failed at these a lot. It is a lot easier to have two faces. But that is not what I was made for. So once again, I am determined to be one person, and take a number of hits for the team. For how else can we know the truth from the lie, if others do not show us with their lives? 

Day One Hundred and One - The Interwebs

I. LOVE. The interwebs. And yes, I'm going to use the term 'interwebs' for this entire blog, so get over it. I love it so so very much, especially pinterest, facebook, and hulu. LOVE.

I. HATE. The interwebs. I hate it so very, very much, especially pinterest, facebook, and hulu. HATE.

Both of those statements are true. I love pinterest. Because it really is full of amazing stuff. For instance, (I HAD to give a shout out) I found this recipe for homemade laundry detergent on pinterest. Super simple. 1 cup washing soda. (Arm & Hammer sells it and I found it at Fareway so it should be easily accessible.) 1 cup 20 mule team Borax (again, Fareway). 1 bar of finely grated ivory soap. Stir for 5 minutes. Add 1-2 tablespoons per load. I have about 300 loads worth of the stuff for less than $6. And even more importantly, it WORKS like MAGIC. For instance: for a girl who doesn't sweat very much, I have a magical talent for "pitstaining" every white shirt I owned. I tried EVERYTHING to get it out. Tide. Super tide. Bleach. Super bleach. Stain pens. Soaking. EVERYTHING. You know what it took? A 1 hour soak in some washing soda and borax. White as the day I bought it. WELL DONE INTERWEBS.

I hate pinterest. It eats my life. But in a far more productive way then Hulu or say Netflix. Honestly. I pay for netflix and it eats my life. But the difference between netflix and say barnes and noble is that most reading (most, I grant you, twilight gave me nothing) gives you something in return. Zoning out in front of a TV does mostly nothing. A half and hour here or there, or a movie with loved ones, those are great. But a pit fall of mine happens to be wasting hours of time watching stuff because... well I'm not sure why.

I'm gonna chalk it up to the brat.

But here's the kicker: the motivators are stronger than the brat. I cancelled my Netflix subscription today. Because I've literally watched all of the good things on it. Including every episode of mythbusters. Three times. I also cancelled my XBox Live subscription. Because I almost never get new games, so that shouldn't be much of an issue. Because the only person I ever talk to on it is having her third kid tomorrow (good luck!)  and I'm assuming will be a bit occupied for the next few months at least. Because it was $15 a month that I wasn't really getting my money's worth from.

There is a big world out there that has a lot to offer, and as the snow continues to melt and the air warm, I know I'll be spending more time in it. Even just for walks. Or runs. And there are books to be read, and books to be written. There are all sorts of things to be done that do not involve my ass on a couch watching a screen.

If nothing else, there are thoughts to be thought.

So here's to loving and hating the internet. But mostly loving, because it's not the internet's fault that I have poor self control. And if I can have a bit more of it, then the internet and I will be at peace once again.

Day One Hundred - 10%

That's right, everyone, we are officially 10% done today! That's right, we have 90% left to go! Haha, I'm just as excited as you, let me tell you. But it's sort of amazing when I think about it. Where will I be at day 200, where will I be at 500, where will I be on the final day? And where will all of you be? A lot can change in almost three years. Look at how far we've come in 100 days.

We're gonna do two things to commemorate our progress.

1) We're going to FOLLOW the blog officially. It takes 3 minutes if you don't have a google ID. If you read it regularly, please, for me, follow it. And then, leave a comment with your list.

2) Make a list. That's right, I want you to make a list with me. What are the things you want to change in the next hundred days?

a) I want to find a second job I enjoy and start saving for a vacation.
b) I want to start running again.
c) I want to be talked into something ridiculous by the original sparkly marshmallow. Maybe even one of his running things.
d) I want to have all of my books out of storage.

That's my list. What's yours?

Day Ninety Nine - Motivation

I have this weird thing that happens to me sometimes. Sometimes, I wake up and something in me has changed. Or sometimes, things start to slowly change and I catch onto it right before it solidifies. Either way, the change is never conscious. It's always just... there. And it's always good, the timing is always perfect. 

The shift from head knowledge to heart knowledge that I wrote about the first of the year? That was one of my strange 'motivators'. It was of the 'insta' variety. The slow growing sort last showed up when it was time to quit the bar at which I worked. It grew and grew in my heart and mind until it just was. I didn't work there anymore. 

So I was kind of surprised at the growing motivation that I just recently became aware of: I need to start saving every penny and get rid of all my stuff that isn't essential. So I pretty much need it whittled down to my books, my clothes, and my pictures. I couldn't tell you why yet. I don't know whether its because I'll need to take a trip soon or be moving or any other number of options. But the motivation has settled deep inside in a way I can't force myself to acquire. 

Personally, I hope it leads me to the saltwater remedies. But I'm not curious where it'll lead me. I'm curious if I'm the only one that gets these 'motivators'. Anyone else?