I’m just moving, that’s all. Blog.com has been good to me these past 2 and a half years, but I think I like blogger better. What can you do?
Well, to answer that question, YOU can find me now at http://lafabuliste.blogspot.com/
Isn’t that nice? Just forgive the mess for a while as I fix it up.
I’m not sure why I haven’t written. It’s not like nothing’s happened- and yet, it seems like nothing has.
I’m in my second-to-last quarter of college now. I graduate in less than six months. Isn’t that crazy? I mean, it’s it just mind-blowing? The sum of sixteen years’ worth of work, all coming down to this last stretch, this last sprint towards… another race. From a 5k into a marathon.
I’m beginning to get nervous. I mean, I’ve lived in this bubble for so long. This is safe, this is what I know. And now I’m about to be pushed out of that; it’s almost like a rebirth of sorts. I’m leaving the womb. Oh goodness, how’s that for dramatic?
But in all seriousness- what’s a girl to do? Find a job, like normal people do. I’m flirting with the idea of returning to Paris, but God and I have an understanding. If I win Jeopardy! and can pay off my student loans, then I’ll go again. It doesn’t take a lot of convincing, but there are always material limitations to just about everything.
I’ve been looking at jobs here, too. Here being in the States, and not in Paris. Here really meaning there, in New York or Boston. Cincinnati has grown too small for me- the ceilings are too low, the space too confining. What I miss about Paris is the potential. I need to breath that again.
Oh, I want to live. I want to really live, to be Vibrant. I have dreams that are more like feelings; nothing concrete, but something to aspire to all the same. To be warm, welcoming, successful, creative, expressive, Parisian, beautiful, wise, womanly, strong, independent, self-actualized, published, delicate, styled, poised, charming, modest, terrifying, exciting.
I just finished a rough story arc. It’s the first time I’ve ever completed something. The first time that all of the pieces of ideas that come to me have fit together in a way that makes sense, a way that I can follow. It’s a simple story- maybe predictable, but I don’t think so. But I’m proud of it, I’m proud of myself, and I want to put flesh and blood and nerve to these bones.
Oh I want so very much. And I don’t think it’s impossible to garner. I don’t want to fear failure, but I can’t help it. What if it’s all in vain? I can’t help but wonder. What if the past four years and the $20,000 isn’t worth it in the end?
But it will be. It must be.
Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –
I keep it, staying at Home –
With a Bobolink for a Chorister –
And an Orchard, for a Dome –
Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice –
I just wear my Wings –
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton — sings.
God preaches, a noted Clergyman –
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at least –
I’m going, all along.
And people found my notebook and read it. They passed it around their table, the table with a man in brown hair and glasses at the front, who read it first. And he passed it to his daughter. And I remember screaming at them, because that was mine and it was private, and they were horrified by it and laughed at it at the same time.
And they wrote on the back of the book, “Whoever writes this or reads this book will BURN IN HELL FOR ALL ETERNITY.”
13,000 people die of starvation every day. And yet, the world produces enough food to feed 112% of the population.
In 2002, HIV was the leading cause of death world wide for those aged 15-59.
One Billion people world wide cannot read or write- 2/3 of that billion are female.
Worldwide, 70% of those living in poverty are women.
Where do I fit in to all of this? Can you imagine not being able to read? To communicate with the world, the media, history, basic instructions… To be limited and imprisoned… It horrifies me.
So what do I do? What am I supposed to do, as a woman, as a Christian, as a young person, as someone with limited- and yet infinite- power?
Your highest achievement in life should not be getting married.
I’m so very tired of this. So very, very weary. I am a strong, talented woman with intelligence, fortitude, character, wit, a good heart, beauty and a host of other qualities that are surely to be desired. And I am all of this, and I am single.
I just don’t understand it. I go to camp and “maybe you’ll meet your future husband there.” I go to France and “maybe you’ll meet your future husband there.” I audition for Jeopardy and “maybe you’ll meet your future husband there.”
No. No. NO!
I went to camp to make a difference in the lives of children. I went to France to test my limits, to be on my own and free with room to grow. I auditioned for Jeopardy because I wanted to chase a dream and see just how much I knew. I don’t do any of these things to find a man.
Is this really where our hearts are? Paul tells us that singleness is a gift- do we think he means only for the men? Does this mean that while men are enjoying their singleness, we must pine and sigh and wait? Don’t you see how much wider we can spread our wings without another one flying beside us?
This isn’t a very well organized post. I realize that.
But it just pains me and angers me and frustrates me to see intelligent, independent women respond with “Maybe you’ll meet your future husband!” whenever I talk about doing something extrordinary, or out of the norm.
I’m not saying that I don’t want to be loved, or pursued, or married in the end. I do. But goodness, that will come in its own time. And I don’t need to be consistently told that I should be on the lookout for that one Him. Right now, can’t I just focus on this inner and outer creature that I am, can’t I just nurture dreams and build a foundation and grow taller towards the sun?
Let me do that. And you should do it, too. You should all do that. Do not awaken love before it is ready, oui?
I’ve been thinking about perspective a lot, lately.
I feel like children can see more than adults do- that they are willing to see more- yet everything must fall into place. There are good men and bad men- there are good dragons and bad dragons. Good and evil, black and white, all make so very much sense to a child.
Adults, I feel, can see less than children, but with a greater degree of variance. The moral nuances of situations are clearer; one can do bad things with good intentions, one can do good things for evil intent. But we have lost the ability to see more than what is put in front of us, than what reality tells us is present and alive or dead but real.
In middle school, I was the girl who righteously fought the 8th grade science teacher (the late Mr. Gladwell) concerning the prospect of evolution. Now, in my defense, he did say (and I do remember this because we all know the scary memory I have), “Anyone who does not believe in evolution is wrong” and absolutes like that don’t exist even (and especially) in science. But I’m willing to admit that, as a child, there were only two ways of looking at things. In this case, either God made the world or lightning did. And the passionate, untempered beliefs of my youth said that only God could have done it, in six days, six real days, and that was that, and I would martyr myself in front of the school for that cause (have I also mentioned how dramatic I was back then?).
Now, eight years later, I am taking Biology 104, a study of the origins of the earth and all life forms. And I won’t go as far as to say that my beliefs are being put into question- I know who I am and I know who made me- but it does open doors for nuance.
See, what I’m learning, both in Biology and Crazy Lady Class (when she’s not talking about aliens and space dust) makes sense. And I am so very, very grateful that I am in a place that teaches me new things, and to have a mind that has been opened by those around me. And yet, the more I learn, the more I have to believe that none of it was chance. That the earth’s distance from the sun, the tilt of the axis, the strength of the magnetic field and the chemical composition cannot all be at random. How could it, when I sit in a classroom, drinking Starbucks and learning about the origins of the earth from a professor and a computer and a projection screen, at a University that has been around for almost 200 years, when the people around me have thoughts and talents and dreams and hungers?
And yet, it still makes sense.
And so, I have to figure out how it all works together.
We learned today about how the early hominids who ate meat likely helped in their own evolutionary branch, since the protein in the meat may have helped with the development of the brain, leading to larger brain size and more capable thought. And yet, in Genesis, it is not until after Noah and the Flood that it says men began to eat meat.
Perhaps our Adam and Eve were not pale skinned, smooth-haired beauties who looked just like us, but rather hunched and hairy, with thick foreheads and strong jaws. Perhaps God, while making us in his image, left room for us to change and grow as his earth changed and grew. He’s smart- He would know to do that.
I love the thought of faith like a child, and that faith helps to keep us like children. Not in a governed, dependent way. But one that speaks of unbridled love, a willingness to believe in the fantastic, and a hope for happily ever afters.
It’s an entirely sensory place. I think about it, and I can feel the fragrance of red wine lingering inside of my head, and I can hear the music of the streets, punctuated by the rush of the metro. Every song that I listen to while I was there (specifically Matt Nathanson and John Legend) take me back to those places, to the Columbus Cafe, the Metro station at Raspail, the Etam near le Bastille.
I am hungry for Paris.
I want to gobble her down like a starved lover, letting the molleux au chocolat dribble down my chin in streams of lucious decadence. I want to lose myself in the crowded flower markets. I want to feel the filtered sunlight in the wet Tulleries.
I am hungry for Paris.
I’m loving my new job. For those who don’t know, I’m working in the children’s department of the Cincinnati Public Library. It’s lovely.
On November 17th, I’m going to be one step closer to capturing a dream.
I’ve been invited to Chicago to take part in the auditions and interviews for the Jeopardy College Championship. WHOO! I’m a supernerd, and this is like, one of the most amazing things that has ever happened to me. Which sounds really pathetic, but that’s ok.
In other news, well, there really isn’t any. But you have to admit, the second piece of information more than makes up for babies, weddings, promotions, and any of that stuff.
I miss a place where the possibilities are endless. Wheere there is always opportunity for beauty, growth and wonder.
How can we move a sapling from the greenhouse to the forest, and let her feel the vastness of it all… and then force her back into that tiny glass room?
Maybe this is why I like change and Christmas so much.
Restless. Anxious. Trapped in a place that’s too small for me.
