Sometimes, all you really need in life is to go to mass and receive the Eucharist.
I swear, some days, it's the only thing that keeps me going.
Praise be to God for His wonderful Christmas gift to the human race.
12/25/2011
12/24/2011
Come On, Skinny Love.
I'm waiting to go to midnight mass, and I feel really odd.
There are times in my life I feel so completely alone. Tonight is one of those times even though I know there are people who love and care for me, Earthly and Heavenly.
My family couldn't do anything for Christmas Eve, but I'll see them tomorrow. Mainly, my brothers are either working or spending time with their girlfriends. My roommate is with her family. My friends are with their families or boyfriend's or girlfriend's families or spending time with their brand new babies.
And I. am. here. alone.
And I can't help but think about Heathcliff. This will be my first Christmas in three years, my first Christmas since being Catholic that he will not be sitting beside me. Out of morbid curiosity, I looked up his blog. All he writes about is other girls. He doesn't miss me. He doesn't miss me at all. I know I'm ripping off scabs, pulling out sutures, and pouring salt in the wounds, but I needed to know. I needed to see it. So I can do all that crap where I tell myself I'm strong, I'm fine, I'm okay. Fake it till I make it. And most days, I'm good. But there are moments. Because when I get that tinge of sadness thinking I miss him every now and then, I can remind myself, he sure as hell doesn't miss me, and he checked out for the last year and a half of the relationship. He's not sitting around pining away over me; I shouldn't be doing the same.
Combine this with the fact that I had to go to Starkville to visit a friend and her new baby, and everywhere I went in town was filled with nothing but memories of him, and I guess the scenery just dredged up latent, unconscious feelings. Out of sight, out of mind. I must remember that.
I think he was the first boy I ever really knew how to love. And I think it was always so easy to move on with other boys because I didn't love them like I loved him.
I guess I'm just sad, and it's an authentic sad (not apathetic, depression sad).
It feels like I'm still grieving losing someone I really loved. And I guess that's what I'm still doing. I think that's one of the reasons why I haven't been able to move on from Columbus yet.
So I'm going to go midnight mass, probably a little sad. I might tear up a bit because I'll be by myself. No friends, no family, no boyfriend. But I will be ok because I will be given the best gift one could be given at Christmas: Baby Jesus, the Eucharist, the one who gives us hope.
And that's all I need for the new year - hope.
There are times in my life I feel so completely alone. Tonight is one of those times even though I know there are people who love and care for me, Earthly and Heavenly.
My family couldn't do anything for Christmas Eve, but I'll see them tomorrow. Mainly, my brothers are either working or spending time with their girlfriends. My roommate is with her family. My friends are with their families or boyfriend's or girlfriend's families or spending time with their brand new babies.
And I. am. here. alone.
And I can't help but think about Heathcliff. This will be my first Christmas in three years, my first Christmas since being Catholic that he will not be sitting beside me. Out of morbid curiosity, I looked up his blog. All he writes about is other girls. He doesn't miss me. He doesn't miss me at all. I know I'm ripping off scabs, pulling out sutures, and pouring salt in the wounds, but I needed to know. I needed to see it. So I can do all that crap where I tell myself I'm strong, I'm fine, I'm okay. Fake it till I make it. And most days, I'm good. But there are moments. Because when I get that tinge of sadness thinking I miss him every now and then, I can remind myself, he sure as hell doesn't miss me, and he checked out for the last year and a half of the relationship. He's not sitting around pining away over me; I shouldn't be doing the same.
Combine this with the fact that I had to go to Starkville to visit a friend and her new baby, and everywhere I went in town was filled with nothing but memories of him, and I guess the scenery just dredged up latent, unconscious feelings. Out of sight, out of mind. I must remember that.
I think he was the first boy I ever really knew how to love. And I think it was always so easy to move on with other boys because I didn't love them like I loved him.
I guess I'm just sad, and it's an authentic sad (not apathetic, depression sad).
It feels like I'm still grieving losing someone I really loved. And I guess that's what I'm still doing. I think that's one of the reasons why I haven't been able to move on from Columbus yet.
So I'm going to go midnight mass, probably a little sad. I might tear up a bit because I'll be by myself. No friends, no family, no boyfriend. But I will be ok because I will be given the best gift one could be given at Christmas: Baby Jesus, the Eucharist, the one who gives us hope.
And that's all I need for the new year - hope.
12/15/2011
Progress Report
Lately, people around the internet have been doing a good job of reminding me about one of God's greatest gifts: peace.
I knew when I moved from Starkville to Columbus, I was making the right decision. I was apprehensive, but I was at peace about it. Confident, almost. Excited. Like a little kid holding her breath for the end of the train. Knowing you could make it, but still, not so sure.
And I've loved being here. I really have. I've got a strong feeling of community, learned how to have confidence and a backbone, formed some really strong friendships, become more outgoing, and have had some really good times.
But I can't help but feel this is a place I felt I was put just to learn those things. A transitional place. Kinda like a train station. Just waiting for my next ride to show up.
And I know, I've felt it in my bones for a long time now, that I'm ready to go wherever. But I can't help but still feel Columbus has a few more things to teach me before I can set off in the big, wide world on my own.
A while back, I mentioned I was looking for somewhere bigger, somewhere that would offer me an adventure. And I know I've mentioned several times that I'm going to Ireland for spring break (I'm halfway to my monetary goal). But I feel like that trip would be a test run to really see if I'm ready for my big adventure, and it's one of the many reasons why it's so important that I go.
But I have the same feeling about this next move. I just know in my heart of hearts I'm not meant to be here right now. I think I'll wind back up in Mississippi in the long run, but I'm oddly at peace with the fact that I'll be moving again soon.
Now, if I could just learn to read the same sensations of peace with boys, I'd be doing well for myself. But that's another blog for another night.
I knew when I moved from Starkville to Columbus, I was making the right decision. I was apprehensive, but I was at peace about it. Confident, almost. Excited. Like a little kid holding her breath for the end of the train. Knowing you could make it, but still, not so sure.
And I've loved being here. I really have. I've got a strong feeling of community, learned how to have confidence and a backbone, formed some really strong friendships, become more outgoing, and have had some really good times.
But I can't help but feel this is a place I felt I was put just to learn those things. A transitional place. Kinda like a train station. Just waiting for my next ride to show up.
And I know, I've felt it in my bones for a long time now, that I'm ready to go wherever. But I can't help but still feel Columbus has a few more things to teach me before I can set off in the big, wide world on my own.
A while back, I mentioned I was looking for somewhere bigger, somewhere that would offer me an adventure. And I know I've mentioned several times that I'm going to Ireland for spring break (I'm halfway to my monetary goal). But I feel like that trip would be a test run to really see if I'm ready for my big adventure, and it's one of the many reasons why it's so important that I go.
But I have the same feeling about this next move. I just know in my heart of hearts I'm not meant to be here right now. I think I'll wind back up in Mississippi in the long run, but I'm oddly at peace with the fact that I'll be moving again soon.
Now, if I could just learn to read the same sensations of peace with boys, I'd be doing well for myself. But that's another blog for another night.
12/04/2011
Is It Possible?
Do you think it's possible to find someone over the internet completely haphazardly? Or rather, have someone find you?
Who seems genuinely interested in you.
Who shares a lot of common interests but is different enough to keep it interesting.
Who is smart enough but not so smart that he is socially stunted.
Who is super cute and consistently tells you that you are super cute.
Who lives half a world away but stays up until 2 a.m. his time to have conversations with you.
I've never even heard his voice. We both have indicated we like each other, but we know a sea separates us. He wants me to stop by to say hi and go hang out while I'm in Dublin for spring break. But I'm hesitant. That's an awful long way to go for a boy, and this trip to Dublin is supposed to be about me being okay with me.
I'd feel like an idiot not to go say hi and see what it would be like if we were together in person. He's in England, and I'd literally be an hour away. And it's not like I haven't tried to find someone around here. Every weekend, two nights a week, I'm doing something, putting myself out there, meeting boys, and making friends but there are just no sparks. None.
But him, there's sparks. It's such a peculiar situation.
Is it possible God might use the internet to bring someone into your life? At this point, I'm open for whatever God wants to send my way. But I keep asking myself is this possible?
11/26/2011
11/06/2011
I might be having a quarter life crisis.
Things are changing, again. And drastically.
I don't know if I can accurately explain it to anyone. But I'll certainly try.
For the longest time, my fear was being alone. Alone in life. Alone in death. Before I had cats to sleep in the bed with me, I slept with stuffed animals in my living room on my couch with the television on because it was so painful to go to sleep by myself. Because I would just lie there awake and think, "I'm in this apartment alone. If I died alone, no one would notice for a couple of days, probably. And I'm not even sure there would be someone waiting on me on the other side." Now, I have the reassurance of Christ's love, but at the time, I didn't. I never slept. It was terrifying.
I thought I needed to have it all. And do it by twenty-five. Or else I was a failure. I thought I needed a man, two kids, a house with an SUV, and a flat screen TV, a dog, some cats, an advanced degree, and a prestigious job. The South is really good at putting that idea into your head, the needing a man bit, that is. I can thank my family, though they had the best of intentions, for the rest of it.
I've played by society's rules, done everything right, and I feel like I've turned up empty handed. I've lived for everyone else. I've fulfilled my parents wishes and dreams for me, society's prescribed notions of what a young, ambitious, smart woman should do, but it hasn't made me happy.
This past weekend, I went to a teacher's conference, and as I sat there doodling on the power point slide handout of statistics of education in the state of Mississippi, I felt like I was in high school again. And I realized that I don't give a crap about anything that I was there to learn about. I'm just doing a job to get a check. And that small, little girl's voice came back to me. And I realize, I haven't changed one bit. I've always known who I am, but I just switched it up to please everyone else. I'm such a good, obedient creature, and I just want someone to be proud of me. I'd do anything to get that approval. And when I couldn't or didn't get it from my parents, I'd look to whatever boy I was dating. And I wish I hadn't. Because that small, shy girl from high school, she's still there. Waiting. And now I know, the only person I need to be proud of me is Jesus. He's the only person's approval that I really need. He's the only one I really want to impress.
I'm still young enough that I can make a big move, a big, big change and get away with it. And I'm not attached with a husband or kids or a mortgage, so I'm pretty mobile. And if I had thought about doing this last year at this time, I would have been terrified because I know I have self-esteem issues. But now, after looking at all the things I've done by myself just through hard work and perseverance, I know I can do this on my own, especially now that I have guidance from God and that I have the firm belief that He is backing me. Independent is never a word I would have used to describe myself, but now days, I think it's quite apt.
Sitting there doodling, feeling like I was a kid in high school again, all the dreams I had came flooding back to me. I wanted to write books. I wanted to start a band. I wanted to live in a big city. I wanted to travel the world. I didn't want to go to college. I wanted to backpack across Europe for a year because I was a year ahead of schedule. My parents wouldn't let me though. Moreover, when I was interviewed for the yearbook about what I would be when I grew up, the person automatically assumed I wanted to be a teacher. My response was "Hell, no. You couldn't pay me enough to be a teacher." And now look at me.
I feel like I haven't gotten a steady job because God knows this is not what my heart wants. He knows this is not where I want nor need to be. Heathcliff dumping me was one of the worst things to have ever happened to me. It essentially broke me and my spirit, but I have become so much better off for it. I can't help but wonder if this was God's plan all along. To break me down to build me up to make something more beautiful, more durable, more independent, more confident.
And so I'm taking the first steps. I'm applying for jobs in Nashville, Boston, and New York. I'm planning a spring break trip to Dublin, going all by myself. I'm not worried about getting a boyfriend or getting married anytime soon, or at all even. I'm going to bookstores alone and reading books, even if I get a plethora of questions from the woman in her mid-forties sitting next to me (true story there, folks).
And granted it's still all very scary for me, I'm confident as long as I keep living for Jesus and my Catholic faith, I'll be well-guided, provided for, and loved. And that's really all I need. Anything else is just a bonus.
I don't know if I can accurately explain it to anyone. But I'll certainly try.
For the longest time, my fear was being alone. Alone in life. Alone in death. Before I had cats to sleep in the bed with me, I slept with stuffed animals in my living room on my couch with the television on because it was so painful to go to sleep by myself. Because I would just lie there awake and think, "I'm in this apartment alone. If I died alone, no one would notice for a couple of days, probably. And I'm not even sure there would be someone waiting on me on the other side." Now, I have the reassurance of Christ's love, but at the time, I didn't. I never slept. It was terrifying.
I thought I needed to have it all. And do it by twenty-five. Or else I was a failure. I thought I needed a man, two kids, a house with an SUV, and a flat screen TV, a dog, some cats, an advanced degree, and a prestigious job. The South is really good at putting that idea into your head, the needing a man bit, that is. I can thank my family, though they had the best of intentions, for the rest of it.
I've played by society's rules, done everything right, and I feel like I've turned up empty handed. I've lived for everyone else. I've fulfilled my parents wishes and dreams for me, society's prescribed notions of what a young, ambitious, smart woman should do, but it hasn't made me happy.
This past weekend, I went to a teacher's conference, and as I sat there doodling on the power point slide handout of statistics of education in the state of Mississippi, I felt like I was in high school again. And I realized that I don't give a crap about anything that I was there to learn about. I'm just doing a job to get a check. And that small, little girl's voice came back to me. And I realize, I haven't changed one bit. I've always known who I am, but I just switched it up to please everyone else. I'm such a good, obedient creature, and I just want someone to be proud of me. I'd do anything to get that approval. And when I couldn't or didn't get it from my parents, I'd look to whatever boy I was dating. And I wish I hadn't. Because that small, shy girl from high school, she's still there. Waiting. And now I know, the only person I need to be proud of me is Jesus. He's the only person's approval that I really need. He's the only one I really want to impress.
I'm still young enough that I can make a big move, a big, big change and get away with it. And I'm not attached with a husband or kids or a mortgage, so I'm pretty mobile. And if I had thought about doing this last year at this time, I would have been terrified because I know I have self-esteem issues. But now, after looking at all the things I've done by myself just through hard work and perseverance, I know I can do this on my own, especially now that I have guidance from God and that I have the firm belief that He is backing me. Independent is never a word I would have used to describe myself, but now days, I think it's quite apt.
Sitting there doodling, feeling like I was a kid in high school again, all the dreams I had came flooding back to me. I wanted to write books. I wanted to start a band. I wanted to live in a big city. I wanted to travel the world. I didn't want to go to college. I wanted to backpack across Europe for a year because I was a year ahead of schedule. My parents wouldn't let me though. Moreover, when I was interviewed for the yearbook about what I would be when I grew up, the person automatically assumed I wanted to be a teacher. My response was "Hell, no. You couldn't pay me enough to be a teacher." And now look at me.
I feel like I haven't gotten a steady job because God knows this is not what my heart wants. He knows this is not where I want nor need to be. Heathcliff dumping me was one of the worst things to have ever happened to me. It essentially broke me and my spirit, but I have become so much better off for it. I can't help but wonder if this was God's plan all along. To break me down to build me up to make something more beautiful, more durable, more independent, more confident.
And so I'm taking the first steps. I'm applying for jobs in Nashville, Boston, and New York. I'm planning a spring break trip to Dublin, going all by myself. I'm not worried about getting a boyfriend or getting married anytime soon, or at all even. I'm going to bookstores alone and reading books, even if I get a plethora of questions from the woman in her mid-forties sitting next to me (true story there, folks).
And granted it's still all very scary for me, I'm confident as long as I keep living for Jesus and my Catholic faith, I'll be well-guided, provided for, and loved. And that's really all I need. Anything else is just a bonus.
11/01/2011
Verbatim
Oh me.
Lots going on lately, including three girls trying to fight me and a friend of mine over old drama in a McDonald's at 2:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning. No seriously. I just laughed in their faces. (Don't ask what I was doing at McD's at 2:00 a.m. Okay, we had been drinking, but we were eating and sobering up).
Anyway, I got a job tutoring at the YMCA after school, and I get to be around little, little ones from Kindergarten to fifth graders and they are too, too much fun. Doesn't matter how awful a day I have at work, Tuesday is now the highlight of my week getting to talk to them. Here's some of the stuff they say:
1st grade boy: Miss D., let me touch yo' hair.
Me: Why?
Him: That's gotta be weave.
Me: Nope. It's my real hair.
Him: Let me touch it. I know weave when I feel it.
Me: Okay fine.
Him: You right. That ain't no weave. Dang you got some long hair!
4th grade girl: Miss D., take off yo glasses.
Me: I can't. I need them to see.
Her: You mean they ain't fo' looks?
Me: Nope. Blind as a bat without them.
Her: Well, take them off anyway.
Me: Ok.
Her: Ooooh, Miss D, you so much prettier without yo glasses. You must want to look like a nerd!
And this last one is slightly different from the fb post, so read it again for an even bigger laugh.
Me: looking at a picture of some cute boy on facebook after we had gotten done doing homework and were playing.
First grader: Miss D., is that your boyfriend?
Me: Nope.
First grader: You wish he was your boyfriend.
Me: Hahahaha. (Secretly thinking yes). But he's in London, England.
First grader: England?!? Where's that?!!?
Me: Here. I'll show you on a map.
First grader: Miss Doherty! That's too far away! How are you supposed to hold hands?!?
Me: I don't know. But I can't find any boys around here who like me.
First grader: It's not that hard. I can find you a boyfriend.
Me: You can?!? I can't find one. Where can I find a boyfriend?
First grader: At Wal-Mart. Or K-Mart. They're everywhere. What color do you like? I mean, do you have a color preference or you like all of them?
Me: *falls out laughing*
Lots going on lately, including three girls trying to fight me and a friend of mine over old drama in a McDonald's at 2:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning. No seriously. I just laughed in their faces. (Don't ask what I was doing at McD's at 2:00 a.m. Okay, we had been drinking, but we were eating and sobering up).
Anyway, I got a job tutoring at the YMCA after school, and I get to be around little, little ones from Kindergarten to fifth graders and they are too, too much fun. Doesn't matter how awful a day I have at work, Tuesday is now the highlight of my week getting to talk to them. Here's some of the stuff they say:
1st grade boy: Miss D., let me touch yo' hair.
Me: Why?
Him: That's gotta be weave.
Me: Nope. It's my real hair.
Him: Let me touch it. I know weave when I feel it.
Me: Okay fine.
Him: You right. That ain't no weave. Dang you got some long hair!
4th grade girl: Miss D., take off yo glasses.
Me: I can't. I need them to see.
Her: You mean they ain't fo' looks?
Me: Nope. Blind as a bat without them.
Her: Well, take them off anyway.
Me: Ok.
Her: Ooooh, Miss D, you so much prettier without yo glasses. You must want to look like a nerd!
And this last one is slightly different from the fb post, so read it again for an even bigger laugh.
Me: looking at a picture of some cute boy on facebook after we had gotten done doing homework and were playing.
First grader: Miss D., is that your boyfriend?
Me: Nope.
First grader: You wish he was your boyfriend.
Me: Hahahaha. (Secretly thinking yes). But he's in London, England.
First grader: England?!? Where's that?!!?
Me: Here. I'll show you on a map.
First grader: Miss Doherty! That's too far away! How are you supposed to hold hands?!?
Me: I don't know. But I can't find any boys around here who like me.
First grader: It's not that hard. I can find you a boyfriend.
Me: You can?!? I can't find one. Where can I find a boyfriend?
First grader: At Wal-Mart. Or K-Mart. They're everywhere. What color do you like? I mean, do you have a color preference or you like all of them?
Me: *falls out laughing*
10/13/2011
The General State of Veronica (1)
This is going to be quick takes style. Because I'm lazy.
1.
I like Muse. I did not know I liked Muse. I like the fact that I like Muse and a boy didn't tell me I should like Muse.
Every day I'm alone, it seems more and more like a blessing because I realize I know myself no better than I did when I was sixteen. I just became every boy I dated. I'm basically going through my adolescence ten years later. So I'm really not looking but open to the possibility of a guy. But really, I think even if I liked a boy right now, I could care less because I like getting to know myself.
2.
I got a job tutoring 1-5 graders at the YMCA. It's a sweet gig. We did double dutch today. Extra cash is going to savings and the travel fund.
3.
Speaking of traveling, I'm going traveling. I'm thinking London and Dublin for St. Paddy's Day. Alone. I think it would be very therapeutic for me. And I know I said it before (or at least I think I did), but I'm serious. I've started filling out passport paper work and looking into tickets and places to stay. I need to see the world. It's something I've wanted to do since I was young, but my parents blocked me from doing so or money prohibited me from it. There's no reason why I can't now, so I am while I am single and don't have a family to worry about, I'm doing it.
Before I ever dated any boys, it's all I wanted to do. In high school, I begged to be an exchange student. When I graduated high school, I didn't want to to go college; I wanted to back pack through Europe. It's why I studied the French language because traveling was a required component. And then I liked boys who also studied French and went to France without me and came back with French girlfriends, and I just separated myself from traveling because I associated it with no good heart breaking boys. But being alone has shown me, that it's always been Veronica who wants to travel. And so I think I should.
4.
I've talked to Ireland. He really doesn't believe he did anything wrong and is completely oblivious to my side of the story. But we're on general talking terms. I actually talked to him for about thirty minutes tonight at Books A Million. How strange that I meet up with him after I stop caring about his attention. I know it's weird, but I think we'll be friends if I can bury the hatchet, which I'll try because that's the mature Catholic thing to do, right? (And obviously, I'm NOT getting involved with him romantically EVER again).
5.
I don't know where God wants me right now, but I'm pretty sure I'm not getting a job around here because I'm not supposed to be around here. I don't know where I need to be, but I'm looking. I applying everywhere and anywhere. And I'm just totally open to all the possibilities.
6.
I missed Heathcliff's birthday. Or rather, I didn't know if I should say anything. We had a short exchange a while back through e-mail, and his reply was very curt. I assumed that meant he doesn't even care to keep up as civil acquaintances. So I kept quiet. I think it's probably best this way as much as I hate for it to be like that because I get the feeling that's the way he likes it.
7.
I'm just totally open to life right now. I've just had this attitude of "OK God, surprise me with something today." And it's working. I don't know what's in store for me, but I'm trusting Him, and I have a feeling it's something really big just right around the corner. I dunno what else, but that's just the vibe I get. For the first time in a long time, I'm hopeful.
10/04/2011
Have you heard about the new miracle?
Have you heard?
They found heart muscle in a Host.
This both amazes and terrifies me.
Amazing because it is tangible.
Terrifying because it is tangible.
Heart Muscle Found in Host
Update on general state of V. to come soon.
They found heart muscle in a Host.
This both amazes and terrifies me.
Amazing because it is tangible.
Terrifying because it is tangible.
Heart Muscle Found in Host
Update on general state of V. to come soon.
9/25/2011
A Round-About Thank You
It's been rough lately, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, emotionally and financially. Payday is around the corner, and I'm very excited for it.
This weekend has been a mix of emotions for me - mostly between total apathy, frustration, and satisfaction. I've had a few crying spells, slept straight for a few days. I've tried to help myself by forcing myself to get up and do things, but it's only so effective. Good news is the makers of my medicine will provide my it to me as a charity since I don't have insurance!
Thursday, I sent a link via email to Heathcliff in order to open up a dialogue with him to tell him that I found a keepsake of his. I wanted to say, "hey I know this is important to you. Let me send it back." Instead, the response I got (verbatim) was, "Hey. Thanks. This [link] is great. Hope all is well or better or something." I don't know if he meant for it to cut or not; at least, I'm trying hard to give him the benefit of the doubt. I feel like he tries to pretend I didn't exist or happen, which is not fair. I exist; we were together. I admit it to potential dates if they ask; I feel like he should be able to as well, even if he does feel I was a huge mistake.
Friday I was accused by my landlord of stealing quarters out of the coin operated laundry machine. I've never been accused of such a thing in my life. I was flabbergasted. I tried to explain my side (apparently the machine is broke because I always fed it quarters, but it wouldn't take them), but she didn't buy my story, and she wants me to back pay her for laundry since June, so I think I'll be moving soon. (She also has rationed our water usage to washing dishes once a week and baths once a day, even though we pay for it in rent, and we do this anyway). :\
I've pretty much decided as of late that I want out of my profession. I am not cut out to be a teacher. In addition, my boss confided in my that there won't be another open position for another 2-3 years. I've set my sights on the publishing industry. Of course, when I'm feeling low and lonely, I call my mom for reassurance, but it didn't do much good to talk to her this weekend. I really wasn't met with much reassurance or support. Or comfort really. Which is why I think I blog it all out.
Today, I went to mass, and I'm a CYO Leader. It was a good time and actually made me smile and laugh (and it's funny how these days I'm quite aware of when I smile and laugh). But God has a funny sense of humor or else He really wants me to learn humility. I'm sure you all remember my story back in May about a certain boy and his certain ex-girlfriend. Her younger sister was in my CYO group tonight. Ha! I like the kid though. She's alright.
I want you all to know that I appreciate you reading my blog. I'm thankful for the times you have fed me, spent time with me, talked to me, and been friends with me. Somedays, I feel like I don't have very many people in my corner, even my own family at times. I just want you to know that I'm very thankful to have people like you in my life, and I hope someday to pay it forward.
This weekend has been a mix of emotions for me - mostly between total apathy, frustration, and satisfaction. I've had a few crying spells, slept straight for a few days. I've tried to help myself by forcing myself to get up and do things, but it's only so effective. Good news is the makers of my medicine will provide my it to me as a charity since I don't have insurance!
Thursday, I sent a link via email to Heathcliff in order to open up a dialogue with him to tell him that I found a keepsake of his. I wanted to say, "hey I know this is important to you. Let me send it back." Instead, the response I got (verbatim) was, "Hey. Thanks. This [link] is great. Hope all is well or better or something." I don't know if he meant for it to cut or not; at least, I'm trying hard to give him the benefit of the doubt. I feel like he tries to pretend I didn't exist or happen, which is not fair. I exist; we were together. I admit it to potential dates if they ask; I feel like he should be able to as well, even if he does feel I was a huge mistake.
Friday I was accused by my landlord of stealing quarters out of the coin operated laundry machine. I've never been accused of such a thing in my life. I was flabbergasted. I tried to explain my side (apparently the machine is broke because I always fed it quarters, but it wouldn't take them), but she didn't buy my story, and she wants me to back pay her for laundry since June, so I think I'll be moving soon. (She also has rationed our water usage to washing dishes once a week and baths once a day, even though we pay for it in rent, and we do this anyway). :\
I've pretty much decided as of late that I want out of my profession. I am not cut out to be a teacher. In addition, my boss confided in my that there won't be another open position for another 2-3 years. I've set my sights on the publishing industry. Of course, when I'm feeling low and lonely, I call my mom for reassurance, but it didn't do much good to talk to her this weekend. I really wasn't met with much reassurance or support. Or comfort really. Which is why I think I blog it all out.
Today, I went to mass, and I'm a CYO Leader. It was a good time and actually made me smile and laugh (and it's funny how these days I'm quite aware of when I smile and laugh). But God has a funny sense of humor or else He really wants me to learn humility. I'm sure you all remember my story back in May about a certain boy and his certain ex-girlfriend. Her younger sister was in my CYO group tonight. Ha! I like the kid though. She's alright.
I want you all to know that I appreciate you reading my blog. I'm thankful for the times you have fed me, spent time with me, talked to me, and been friends with me. Somedays, I feel like I don't have very many people in my corner, even my own family at times. I just want you to know that I'm very thankful to have people like you in my life, and I hope someday to pay it forward.
9/22/2011
Mississippi Amendment 26
Hi.
I'm Veronica.
26 year old celibate female. I don't use oral contraceptives. I never have. Since I was twelve, I didn't believe in it.
Why? Thanks to the internets and a holistic view on medicine, I decided a long time ago, it wasn't safe. My position is only further strengthened by my Catholic faith.
Currently, making the rounds on facebook, you'll see many people doing the social media blitz for Mississippians against amendment 26. Amendment 26 seeks to implement what a person is. Mainly, girls are all up in a tizzy because their oral contraceptives could be taken away from them due to the loose wording.
Granted, as a Catholic, I should whole heartedly be for this amendment, and theoretically I am.
BUT...
What I do not like is that we are trying to make the laws of man, the laws of God. In a perfect world, that would be one and the same. (Some days, I think that is exactly what Heaven is). But when laws like this are made, I feel like they run against our Christian mission.
Even if people are not religious, most morally ethical people, agnostics, and even the atheists, follow the rules of man. Thus, when we enact laws like this, we're forcing the very souls we're trying to win over into subscribing to our belief system when they aren't ready or willing to yet. In turn, that only causes more animosity towards the cause.
I think it's much better and more fruitful to our Christian mission to live out the Gospel in our every day lives, almost quietly. There's no need for big laws or mandates; let the Holy Spirit work through you.
Since I became Catholic (that's three years if you are counting), I haven't had sex. Not for a lack of want, but because I do not want to have a baby, I do not believe oral contraceptives are safe (in fact, most hormonal pills aren't safe for women, but the insurance companies have found ways about hiding the facts), and I do not want to be forever involved with a boy who didn't think I was worth marrying.
On a regular basis, when people my age inquire about my celibacy, I get responses of, "you go girl. you're doing better than I could do." They like the fact that I walk the walk and talk the talk. I think this does more good for the Church and her beliefs than any man-made law ever could.
The answer is simple here, to me, really. Define person as from the moment of conception, and girls, don't have sex. But we don't live in that kind of world. I think the best way to convince people of our Faith is to live it out, day by day, moment by moment.
I'm Veronica.
26 year old celibate female. I don't use oral contraceptives. I never have. Since I was twelve, I didn't believe in it.
Why? Thanks to the internets and a holistic view on medicine, I decided a long time ago, it wasn't safe. My position is only further strengthened by my Catholic faith.
Currently, making the rounds on facebook, you'll see many people doing the social media blitz for Mississippians against amendment 26. Amendment 26 seeks to implement what a person is. Mainly, girls are all up in a tizzy because their oral contraceptives could be taken away from them due to the loose wording.
Granted, as a Catholic, I should whole heartedly be for this amendment, and theoretically I am.
BUT...
What I do not like is that we are trying to make the laws of man, the laws of God. In a perfect world, that would be one and the same. (Some days, I think that is exactly what Heaven is). But when laws like this are made, I feel like they run against our Christian mission.
Even if people are not religious, most morally ethical people, agnostics, and even the atheists, follow the rules of man. Thus, when we enact laws like this, we're forcing the very souls we're trying to win over into subscribing to our belief system when they aren't ready or willing to yet. In turn, that only causes more animosity towards the cause.
I think it's much better and more fruitful to our Christian mission to live out the Gospel in our every day lives, almost quietly. There's no need for big laws or mandates; let the Holy Spirit work through you.
Since I became Catholic (that's three years if you are counting), I haven't had sex. Not for a lack of want, but because I do not want to have a baby, I do not believe oral contraceptives are safe (in fact, most hormonal pills aren't safe for women, but the insurance companies have found ways about hiding the facts), and I do not want to be forever involved with a boy who didn't think I was worth marrying.
On a regular basis, when people my age inquire about my celibacy, I get responses of, "you go girl. you're doing better than I could do." They like the fact that I walk the walk and talk the talk. I think this does more good for the Church and her beliefs than any man-made law ever could.
The answer is simple here, to me, really. Define person as from the moment of conception, and girls, don't have sex. But we don't live in that kind of world. I think the best way to convince people of our Faith is to live it out, day by day, moment by moment.
"Always preach the gospel. If necessary, use words." - St. Francis
9/19/2011
Shameless Plug
I've started my secular look-at-me-I-know-about-books-and-such-you-want-me-as-your-publishing-intern-blog.
Feel free to peruse, though I'm quite aware there are still some kinks in the layout.
www.alifeyoulove77.wordpress.com
Feel free to peruse, though I'm quite aware there are still some kinks in the layout.
www.alifeyoulove77.wordpress.com
9/16/2011
Quick Takes
I really have nothing new or awesome to post these days, so here's some quick takes.
1.
There's a boy in Britain. I don't know his real name or much about where he lives or what he does or even really too much about what he looks like. But two years ago, he started following me on twitter because "he thought I was cute, and I liked Dr. Who." Occasionally, he'll tweet me stating how "hot" or "cute" I am. So when I get rejected by boys in town, I just tell myself, "It's okay. The British boy still thinks I'm tops!"
2.
Heathcliff was kind enough to send me a happy birthday text. I found that rather odd. I mean nice gesture, but it's just odd to talk to him at all these days. That chapter of my life feels so long and forever ago.
3.
I'm seriously considering traveling. Alone. I've always wanted to explore the big, wide world, and though it's always nice to take your friends along, how much more of an adventure would it be to just take yourself and rely on the kindness of strangers? And I think in traveling alone, you learn a lot about yourself, and for me, right now, there is no greater adventure than that because I think for twenty-four years, I've been playing and living up to everyone's ideas of who I should be.
4.
I'm also looking to change careers. I'm working on securing some internships in the publishing industry. I am qualified for that type of job and have actually done it before in graduate school. And the publishing industry would afford me quit a bit of mobility.
5.
Twenty-six has been very enjoyable so far. And I'm really happy to be here. When I was a kid, I thought for sure I'd never live past twenty-five, and given the car crash I had at twenty-two, I shouldn't have. But for some reason, I feel like a huge survivor for just making it past twenty-five.
6.
Two weeks until payday. TWO MORE WEEKS. UGH. It cannot come soon enough!
7.
I'm thinking of starting a blog specifically about nerd things. Like comic books. And Dr. Who. And Star Trek. Just for fun. And maybe bum some google ad sense revenue off it. :)
9/07/2011
I can't wait for payday
It's emo time again. I can't wait for payday. The first thing I will do is schedule my appointment with my doctor and refill my prescriptions. Because of my lack of paycheck and insurance, I can't afford my prescription for my anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills. And I can most definitely tell a difference after being off them for two months. I've stared crying again for no reason. Monday I slept all day and couldn't get out of the bed. Tuesday I wanted to sleep all day again, but the only reason I didn't is because of work. I don't feel like doing my work. I don't feel like cleaning. I just want to sit and sleep. I forced myself to go to wal-mart today and almost had a panic attack. No particular reason, it's just wal-mart gives me the creeps, and even though I know they weren't, I felt like everyone was staring at me and following me. The only time I feel a bit better is when I'm around friends, but most of the time, I just want to sit and sleep and do nothing.
The good thing is this time around, I realize this is not normal. I can tell this is the depression. I can do things like eat good meals and exercise, but that only goes so far. I know there is a lot of debate out there about psychotropic medication, but I believe with me, it truly does help.
Medicine and willpower only do so much though. At some point, you have to give it over to God.
And then only thing I can reason is that maybe God hands us troublesome situations or problems simply to teach us to rely on him to carry our burdens. Maybe we aren't supposed to learn anything else other than that. Just the simple idea that God is enough, and He is more than enough.
If that's the case, then I'm kinda glad I have been diagnosed with chronic depression because it means I'll be constantly relying on God to the end of my days.
The good thing is this time around, I realize this is not normal. I can tell this is the depression. I can do things like eat good meals and exercise, but that only goes so far. I know there is a lot of debate out there about psychotropic medication, but I believe with me, it truly does help.
Medicine and willpower only do so much though. At some point, you have to give it over to God.
And then only thing I can reason is that maybe God hands us troublesome situations or problems simply to teach us to rely on him to carry our burdens. Maybe we aren't supposed to learn anything else other than that. Just the simple idea that God is enough, and He is more than enough.
If that's the case, then I'm kinda glad I have been diagnosed with chronic depression because it means I'll be constantly relying on God to the end of my days.
8/28/2011
Hi. I'm still alive.
And out here in cyberspace. I really dont have much to report of as of late. Spiritually or life wise.
I took care of the drama. I told some people if you're going to keep acting the way you do, I'll be nice to you but I'm not going to tolerate people who lie to me and talk crap about me behind my back as friends. Needless to say, they're cut out of my life now. And I'm much better off for it.
School has started back and these kids seem so much nicer than last semester's.
Had lunch with Ireland's sister in which I received my good rosary back. Bless that girl! She had to go into his room to find it. Also learned that he lied like 12582397643-8u634-0u60-349u63-4906ydjshgadjf times to me. (And that's no exaggeration).
And then I kid you not, as soon as I felt at peace about that situation, I met another guy at the bar the next day.
His pick up line was "Hi. I'm The Ginger. You're super cute." And he ran off another guy who tried to pick me up that night. And he asked for my number three times that night. And he asked me on a date. And I told him no, I wasn't any ordinary girl and he'd have to work hard to get me. And he's stuck around. And then for the entire next week he asked for my number, so I finally said yes. And now I keep getting asked for a date, but he says "I'll stick around in any capacity possible so long as I get to hang around you." Right now he knows he's in the friend space because he knows I have trust issues, but I kinda like this kid. Like, I might even like him more than the last one.
Church is good, I guess. I've heard quite a few things from the pulpit that disturb me, and I've seen quite a few practices that upset me. I signed up to teach catechism to 7-12 grades because I figure it's the least I can do with my teaching skills for the church. And all the old people love me. They're so amazed at a 25 year old coming to daily mass. I just want to look at them and say "This is parish is dead as far as the youth is concerned." But I know why they're there. They're praying for their children and their grandchildren. I had one old man told me seeing my face in daily mass gave him hope for his kids. I didn't even realize my mass attendance could do that.
I want to come back to St. Joe's soon. I miss you guys! But I won't be able to as I won't get paid for another two months. But when I do, I'm coming to visit!
I took care of the drama. I told some people if you're going to keep acting the way you do, I'll be nice to you but I'm not going to tolerate people who lie to me and talk crap about me behind my back as friends. Needless to say, they're cut out of my life now. And I'm much better off for it.
School has started back and these kids seem so much nicer than last semester's.
Had lunch with Ireland's sister in which I received my good rosary back. Bless that girl! She had to go into his room to find it. Also learned that he lied like 12582397643-8u634-0u60-349u63-4906ydjshgadjf times to me. (And that's no exaggeration).
And then I kid you not, as soon as I felt at peace about that situation, I met another guy at the bar the next day.
His pick up line was "Hi. I'm The Ginger. You're super cute." And he ran off another guy who tried to pick me up that night. And he asked for my number three times that night. And he asked me on a date. And I told him no, I wasn't any ordinary girl and he'd have to work hard to get me. And he's stuck around. And then for the entire next week he asked for my number, so I finally said yes. And now I keep getting asked for a date, but he says "I'll stick around in any capacity possible so long as I get to hang around you." Right now he knows he's in the friend space because he knows I have trust issues, but I kinda like this kid. Like, I might even like him more than the last one.
Church is good, I guess. I've heard quite a few things from the pulpit that disturb me, and I've seen quite a few practices that upset me. I signed up to teach catechism to 7-12 grades because I figure it's the least I can do with my teaching skills for the church. And all the old people love me. They're so amazed at a 25 year old coming to daily mass. I just want to look at them and say "This is parish is dead as far as the youth is concerned." But I know why they're there. They're praying for their children and their grandchildren. I had one old man told me seeing my face in daily mass gave him hope for his kids. I didn't even realize my mass attendance could do that.
I want to come back to St. Joe's soon. I miss you guys! But I won't be able to as I won't get paid for another two months. But when I do, I'm coming to visit!
8/17/2011
This Is a Simple Post of Thanksgiving
I'm really happy today.
I mean, I'm really happy.
I'm at peace with myself
And the drama is gone
And I have the answers I need
And I am just really, really happy.
Thank You Jesus.
I mean, I'm really happy.
I'm at peace with myself
And the drama is gone
And I have the answers I need
And I am just really, really happy.
Thank You Jesus.
8/16/2011
Let Me Be a Dog, Then
Okay, so I found the word I was looking for in the last post.
God humiliated me.
And I don't mean in the modern sense of the word "to make ashamed or injure one's dignity." No, I mean that God knocked me off my high horse about what I thought I knew was best for me. God humbled me through humiliation.
It all kind of became clear after hearing the Gospel Sunday at mass, (which ironically enough, Father prepares quite well for Sunday homilies) and reading this.
I really, really did like this kid, Ireland. And after the quick split, all I could do was pray that it work out. To which it seemed God was completely ignoring me. And then, the answer seemed to become "No! I said No. What part of NO don't you understand?"
And then finally, I had two instances of seeing the boy around town. And though I thought I would be okay and be able to act all grown up and over it; instead, I freaked out and panicked. God gave me what I asked for to show me that I really don't know what's best for me.
And all the while, the things I've prayed for have been terribly selfish while other people in the parish and via facebook have been asking me to pray for them. I should have been using my mass intentions for them and not my own selfish reasons. Then again, I do want to continue to pray for his return to Catholicism because I believe that is best for him. So I will probably persist in asking this for completely different reasons.
And it seems that after realizing that God is enough, and just being appreciative of Him, I realize my prayers are going to get nowhere if I don't humble myself and give Him homage.
The Canaanite woman was called a dog by Our Lord.
Let me be then, a dog.
Loyal to my Master, and grateful for the One who provides for me, cares for me, and loves me.
And if I ask for anything else, and He gives it to me...
Hey, thats just a bonus then. :)
God humiliated me.
And I don't mean in the modern sense of the word "to make ashamed or injure one's dignity." No, I mean that God knocked me off my high horse about what I thought I knew was best for me. God humbled me through humiliation.
It all kind of became clear after hearing the Gospel Sunday at mass, (which ironically enough, Father prepares quite well for Sunday homilies) and reading this.
I really, really did like this kid, Ireland. And after the quick split, all I could do was pray that it work out. To which it seemed God was completely ignoring me. And then, the answer seemed to become "No! I said No. What part of NO don't you understand?"
And then finally, I had two instances of seeing the boy around town. And though I thought I would be okay and be able to act all grown up and over it; instead, I freaked out and panicked. God gave me what I asked for to show me that I really don't know what's best for me.
And all the while, the things I've prayed for have been terribly selfish while other people in the parish and via facebook have been asking me to pray for them. I should have been using my mass intentions for them and not my own selfish reasons. Then again, I do want to continue to pray for his return to Catholicism because I believe that is best for him. So I will probably persist in asking this for completely different reasons.
And it seems that after realizing that God is enough, and just being appreciative of Him, I realize my prayers are going to get nowhere if I don't humble myself and give Him homage.
The Canaanite woman was called a dog by Our Lord.
Let me be then, a dog.
Loyal to my Master, and grateful for the One who provides for me, cares for me, and loves me.
And if I ask for anything else, and He gives it to me...
Hey, thats just a bonus then. :)
8/11/2011
More Than A Sparrow
I think I got scolded by God today.
Scolded is probably a bad word.
I don't know what to call it.
Lately, I've had two verses from Matthew stuck in my head.
Matthew 6:25 and Matthew 10:26 - both which deal with birds and sparrows and God providing for us so long as we are His children.
I've been contemplating what to do with myself lately since once again, I was turned down for a teaching job. Moreover, I've been reconsidering my stance on my vocation, whether I'm really called to marriage or not. (More on this in a different entry).
I've had a particularly trying week with friends and awkward acquaintances and people who have beef with me for no good reason. Let's just say there's been serious drama every night.
So I went to adoration today to be quiet, to clear my head, to get some direction, and to just tell Jesus I needed help. And all I've been praying for lately is for a particular boy to come back and for us to be friends again. I've been praying for a full time job, so I can afford insurance and a reliable car. I prayed for direction on how to handle the crazy amount of drama in my life lately.
But as I was sitting there praying for all these things, I felt that still, small voice. Often times, when I hear God, it's never a burning bush or loud booming thunder. It's always still and quiet, and if I'm not actively listening, I miss it.
It said, "Am I not enough? Look at the sparrows. I care for each and every one of them. They do not worry for food or shelter. How much more do I love you than a sparrow."
And to each of my petitions, it seemed that was the answer.
I'm lonely.
But I am God. Is that not enough? Is my love and company not enough?
I'm worried about paying for my apartment.
But I am God. Is that not enough? If I care for a sparrow, I will surely care for you.
I'm worried about how I'm going to afford to eat because I'm not being paid for two months.
But I am God. Is that not enough? The sparrows don't reap or sow, but I feed them.
And on the walk back home, I felt my heart sink a little bit. How ungrateful of a child I must have seemed. I've been given everything I could possibly ask for and more, and yet, here I am still tugging at my Father's pants leg asking for even more.
He takes care of the sparrows.
He takes care of me.
He is God.
And that is enough.
8/10/2011
A Confession of Sorts
How odd.
I almost got my wish today.
I went to Wal-Mart. In the lane next to me, who do I see but Ireland. He darts off an access road. I continue down the main road.
Our cars meet back up in the Wal-Mart parking lot. He pulls a u-turn and leaves.
I stay.
And walk dazed around the store for about thirty minutes.
And I couldn't help but wonder, if this is somewhat like how Jesus feels about us.
I know Ireland lied; I know he's cowardly. But still, I liked him so much, and weirdly enough, I still care about him quite a bit.
And more than anything, I want him of his own free will to come to me, to say I'm sorry. And then I would say, "that's all I ever wanted. Forgiven, forgotten." And I'd be there with wide open arms.
And while aimlessly wandering around the aisles of Wal-Mart, I thought, I wonder if this is how Jesus feels about us when we sin and don't go to confession.
When we almost get there, but then turn around because of our cowardice, because we're afraid of punishment, because we know what we've done is wrong and we're ashamed.
But on the other side, Jesus is just sitting, just hoping, praying, waiting, wishing to talk to us. He's not angry; he's upset and misses us. He just wants to forgive and forget and move on.
I would think that is somewhat what it is like.
I almost got my wish today.
I went to Wal-Mart. In the lane next to me, who do I see but Ireland. He darts off an access road. I continue down the main road.
Our cars meet back up in the Wal-Mart parking lot. He pulls a u-turn and leaves.
I stay.
And walk dazed around the store for about thirty minutes.
And I couldn't help but wonder, if this is somewhat like how Jesus feels about us.
I know Ireland lied; I know he's cowardly. But still, I liked him so much, and weirdly enough, I still care about him quite a bit.
And more than anything, I want him of his own free will to come to me, to say I'm sorry. And then I would say, "that's all I ever wanted. Forgiven, forgotten." And I'd be there with wide open arms.
And while aimlessly wandering around the aisles of Wal-Mart, I thought, I wonder if this is how Jesus feels about us when we sin and don't go to confession.
When we almost get there, but then turn around because of our cowardice, because we're afraid of punishment, because we know what we've done is wrong and we're ashamed.
But on the other side, Jesus is just sitting, just hoping, praying, waiting, wishing to talk to us. He's not angry; he's upset and misses us. He just wants to forgive and forget and move on.
I would think that is somewhat what it is like.
8/06/2011
Let Me Be Melancholic for a Second
I've got to say this somewhere, before I send a stupid, slightly intoxicated text...
I went to the bar...
Our bar...
And I know it's really stupid; I know it's not logical. But I miss you, and I keep missing you, but I don't want to miss, and I feel like I hurt you, and I need to say I'm sorry and ask your forgiveness. I want to call you, but my pride just won't let me.
But you got a lot of apologizing to do yourself, mister. And I still can't get over the fact that she wins simply because she was first in line. But she's not even yours anymore. She doesn't want you. But the girl who does, you don't want her.
And then I saw your sister. At our bar.
And she said you almost came out tonight but didn't.
I keep holding my breath that one day, we'll meet up again, talk it over, and laugh about how much miscommunication there was.
We'll say I'm sorry.
And forgive.
And forget.
But I know that it's stupid and illogical. And pretty much impossible.
But still, I hope. And I pray.
If it's God's will, then He'll make it so.
I went to the bar...
Our bar...
And I know it's really stupid; I know it's not logical. But I miss you, and I keep missing you, but I don't want to miss, and I feel like I hurt you, and I need to say I'm sorry and ask your forgiveness. I want to call you, but my pride just won't let me.
But you got a lot of apologizing to do yourself, mister. And I still can't get over the fact that she wins simply because she was first in line. But she's not even yours anymore. She doesn't want you. But the girl who does, you don't want her.
And then I saw your sister. At our bar.
And she said you almost came out tonight but didn't.
I keep holding my breath that one day, we'll meet up again, talk it over, and laugh about how much miscommunication there was.
We'll say I'm sorry.
And forgive.
And forget.
But I know that it's stupid and illogical. And pretty much impossible.
But still, I hope. And I pray.
If it's God's will, then He'll make it so.
8/04/2011
The Job Thing
Thank you to all who prayed for me to get this full time position where I currently work.
Unfortunately, I was turned down.
I really think this is my sign that teaching is not my vocation. What is my vocation? Heck if I know.
Unfortunately, I was turned down.
I really think this is my sign that teaching is not my vocation. What is my vocation? Heck if I know.
8/03/2011
A Good Writer Is Hard To Find
First off, you might notice that some posts are gone. I can't say why, but if you see me in person, feel free to ask. There's some legaleness involved to it.
Second, Flannery O'Connor died of lupus forty-seven years ago today. I am amazed at how many Catholics are ignorant of her writing, yet most of my protestant students have ready anywhere between two to four of her short stories because they are so widely anthologized in state literature textbooks.
Flannery O'Connor was the type of Catholic woman I want to be. She was dedicated to Our Lord. She contracted Lupus, and yet, in spite of the crippling disease, she still became a prolific writer. She attended Mass everyday. She wrote everyday, even on Sundays. She had a wicked sense of humor and was witty, witty, witty. She led a life of service, consecrated singleness, and used her talent to glorify God.
A short history: Mary Flannery O'Connor was born in Milledgville, Georgia. As a child, she was featured in the newspaper for teaching a chicken to walk backwards. She then grew up, moved off to college, and enrolled in a creative writing program. After obtaining her Bachelor's, she went on to earn her M.A. in Creative Writing from the Iowa Writer's Workshop, the premier creative writing school in the country at that time. After graduating from Iowa, she returned home to Milledgeville only to be struck with Lupus, the same disease that killed her father. She corresponded back and forth with a lesbian atheist friend, wrote daily, attended mass daily, and raised peacocks until she died of lupus on this day forty-seven years ago.
And yet, her legacy lives on. But it is only because she dedicated herself to a higher cause. Flannery said that "All human nature vigorously resists [the] Grace [of God] because Grace changes us, and the change is painful." And if you ever read her essays on writing, called Mystery and Manners, then you know that the above quote is more true in the context of her short stories.
Too often, my protestant students tell me that they and their teachers loved the story but don't quite get it. In truth, I had the same reaction early on. In my academic career, I encountered her work at least 3-5 times, and though I always admired it, the meanings of the stories didn't click for me until I converted to Catholicism.
She writes about protestants. She writes about the South. She writes about African-Americans. She writes about Caucasians. She writes about good people. She writes about bad people. She writes about the young. The old. She writes about you. And me.
Flannery writes about a world where the supernatural is ever present. The consequences of sin are real and immediate. Characters fall from Grace. God intervenes and offers redemption. Often times, her characters look a gift horse in the mouth and refused that Grace. And so they die. And so do others in the story to answer for sin.
I do my best these days to present two to three interpretations of her work when I teach it. A non-religious interpretation, a Christian (i.e. protestant) interpretation, and a Catholic interpretation. I let my students pick which interpretation to write their papers on, and it always makes me smile that they always use the Catholic interpretation because "the story has the most meaning" through that lens. It always makes me smile that students sometimes come and tell me that "the story makes sense now, Miss V. Our high school teacher never told us about the Catholic thing."
I hope one day, that the stories I write will please God. However, if I my writing never makes it to that place where Miss O'Connor resides within canon, I will follow the old adage: those who cannot do, teach.
I can only hope and pray that some of my students are intrigued by the Catholic worldview by talking about Miss O'Connor's works and seek to find out more themselves.
Miss O'Connor, I know that you are neither blessed nor a saint, but I believe you made it to purgatory or Heaven. If you are in purgatory, I pray for your expedience to Heaven. If you are in Heaven, please ask Our Lord to bless my writing as He did yours.
Lord, thank you for blessing Flannery O'Connor with the gift of writing.
V.
Second, Flannery O'Connor died of lupus forty-seven years ago today. I am amazed at how many Catholics are ignorant of her writing, yet most of my protestant students have ready anywhere between two to four of her short stories because they are so widely anthologized in state literature textbooks.
Flannery O'Connor was the type of Catholic woman I want to be. She was dedicated to Our Lord. She contracted Lupus, and yet, in spite of the crippling disease, she still became a prolific writer. She attended Mass everyday. She wrote everyday, even on Sundays. She had a wicked sense of humor and was witty, witty, witty. She led a life of service, consecrated singleness, and used her talent to glorify God.
A short history: Mary Flannery O'Connor was born in Milledgville, Georgia. As a child, she was featured in the newspaper for teaching a chicken to walk backwards. She then grew up, moved off to college, and enrolled in a creative writing program. After obtaining her Bachelor's, she went on to earn her M.A. in Creative Writing from the Iowa Writer's Workshop, the premier creative writing school in the country at that time. After graduating from Iowa, she returned home to Milledgeville only to be struck with Lupus, the same disease that killed her father. She corresponded back and forth with a lesbian atheist friend, wrote daily, attended mass daily, and raised peacocks until she died of lupus on this day forty-seven years ago.
And yet, her legacy lives on. But it is only because she dedicated herself to a higher cause. Flannery said that "All human nature vigorously resists [the] Grace [of God] because Grace changes us, and the change is painful." And if you ever read her essays on writing, called Mystery and Manners, then you know that the above quote is more true in the context of her short stories.
Too often, my protestant students tell me that they and their teachers loved the story but don't quite get it. In truth, I had the same reaction early on. In my academic career, I encountered her work at least 3-5 times, and though I always admired it, the meanings of the stories didn't click for me until I converted to Catholicism.
She writes about protestants. She writes about the South. She writes about African-Americans. She writes about Caucasians. She writes about good people. She writes about bad people. She writes about the young. The old. She writes about you. And me.
Flannery writes about a world where the supernatural is ever present. The consequences of sin are real and immediate. Characters fall from Grace. God intervenes and offers redemption. Often times, her characters look a gift horse in the mouth and refused that Grace. And so they die. And so do others in the story to answer for sin.
I do my best these days to present two to three interpretations of her work when I teach it. A non-religious interpretation, a Christian (i.e. protestant) interpretation, and a Catholic interpretation. I let my students pick which interpretation to write their papers on, and it always makes me smile that they always use the Catholic interpretation because "the story has the most meaning" through that lens. It always makes me smile that students sometimes come and tell me that "the story makes sense now, Miss V. Our high school teacher never told us about the Catholic thing."
I hope one day, that the stories I write will please God. However, if I my writing never makes it to that place where Miss O'Connor resides within canon, I will follow the old adage: those who cannot do, teach.
I can only hope and pray that some of my students are intrigued by the Catholic worldview by talking about Miss O'Connor's works and seek to find out more themselves.
Miss O'Connor, I know that you are neither blessed nor a saint, but I believe you made it to purgatory or Heaven. If you are in purgatory, I pray for your expedience to Heaven. If you are in Heaven, please ask Our Lord to bless my writing as He did yours.
Lord, thank you for blessing Flannery O'Connor with the gift of writing.
V.
7/24/2011
Sunday, Sunday
Ahhh!
Roller coaster of emotions here.
First, the interview went well. I'm not going to say I have the job, but I think I have a good chance. But I've arrived at the fact that I'll be okay one way or the other.
I didn't have the gas to drive to mass in Starkville today (can someone please recap me on the adult catechism class?), so I walked to Annunciation instead.
There are both good things and bad things.
The good: the music is beautiful, and the cantors are great.
The bad: We didn't sing the Gloria. Who doesn't sing the Gloria?!?!
The good: People are quiet before mass.
The bad: When you enter, instead of dipping your fingers in the Holy Water font, everyone takes a host (with a pair of tongs, no less) and tosses it in a bowl of holy water. *shudders* There is something very wrong to me about moving a host around with tongs and my hands touching those tongs not being a priest. So much so with my happy chemicals all out of whack, I started tearing up as I found a seat in the pews. My question is this a normal practice or is this atypical?
The good: People go and pray before the tabernacle before mass.
The bad: The tabernacle is behind an alcove and not dead and center.
The good: The altar servers are seemingly well-trained.
The bad: One of them repeatedly dropped the altar linens. I'm going to chalk it up to nervousness.
And lastly, are extraordinary ministers allowed to pour the precious Blood into the chalices? Because they certainly did today, and it kinda horrified me. I feel like that part of the preparation should be left to the priest.
And now, for the fun part:
This middle-aged woman had been staring me down all mass and made me feel really uncomfortable. On my way walking back to the apartment, she stopped to ask me if I was new, how serious of a Catholic I was, how old I was, where I was from, and what I did for a living, and could I please pray for her sons because she can't get them to mass but she'd really like for us to meet. I had a nice chat with her, and she said she looked forward to seeing me at mass more often.
I looked them up on facebook; one's two years older, and the other is two years younger. And they are both CUTE. Who knows - maybe they'll come to mass soon.
Thanks Be To God!
Roller coaster of emotions here.
First, the interview went well. I'm not going to say I have the job, but I think I have a good chance. But I've arrived at the fact that I'll be okay one way or the other.
I didn't have the gas to drive to mass in Starkville today (can someone please recap me on the adult catechism class?), so I walked to Annunciation instead.
There are both good things and bad things.
The good: the music is beautiful, and the cantors are great.
The bad: We didn't sing the Gloria. Who doesn't sing the Gloria?!?!
The good: People are quiet before mass.
The bad: When you enter, instead of dipping your fingers in the Holy Water font, everyone takes a host (with a pair of tongs, no less) and tosses it in a bowl of holy water. *shudders* There is something very wrong to me about moving a host around with tongs and my hands touching those tongs not being a priest. So much so with my happy chemicals all out of whack, I started tearing up as I found a seat in the pews. My question is this a normal practice or is this atypical?
The good: People go and pray before the tabernacle before mass.
The bad: The tabernacle is behind an alcove and not dead and center.
The good: The altar servers are seemingly well-trained.
The bad: One of them repeatedly dropped the altar linens. I'm going to chalk it up to nervousness.
And lastly, are extraordinary ministers allowed to pour the precious Blood into the chalices? Because they certainly did today, and it kinda horrified me. I feel like that part of the preparation should be left to the priest.
And now, for the fun part:
This middle-aged woman had been staring me down all mass and made me feel really uncomfortable. On my way walking back to the apartment, she stopped to ask me if I was new, how serious of a Catholic I was, how old I was, where I was from, and what I did for a living, and could I please pray for her sons because she can't get them to mass but she'd really like for us to meet. I had a nice chat with her, and she said she looked forward to seeing me at mass more often.
I looked them up on facebook; one's two years older, and the other is two years younger. And they are both CUTE. Who knows - maybe they'll come to mass soon.
Thanks Be To God!
7/23/2011
The Invisible Illness
I feel like I should go around and apologize to everyone.
I've missed a few doses of my medicine these past few days, and I have been losing sleep grading papers, and I haven't been eating because I've been stressed out about the job interview.
These are all classic symptoms of depression, but what they don't tell you, or rather what they should stress more in those lame "feeling blue" commercials, is that it is absolutely vital to keep your physical body in tip top condition lest your serotonin imbalance become even worse to where medicine is not even effective.
Needless to say, I had a major meltdown at work when a student reported me to my boss's boss without approaching me with her concerns first.
Even worse, I went all I-hate-the-world-I-might-as-well-jump-off-a-cliff-because-my-life-has-no-meaning on everyone who talked to me that day. Trust me, you ever catch me in one of those moods, I promise, it's not you. It's most definitely me. I'm probably tired, cranky, hungry, stressed, and depressed, and you just need to give me a big hug and feed me and let me sleep.
And so I did. A friend took me out for a steak, I had a nice cry, I slept a good eight hours, I took a nice long bath, I exercised a bit, and I relaxed with some Netflix.
Right before I logged off for the night, though, a friend made this post that is making its rounds on facebook:
YOU DON'T LOOK SICK!!! No I don't. It's hard to explain to someone when they have no clue. It's a daily struggle feeling sick on the inside while you look fine on the outside. Please put this as your status for at least 1 hour if you or someone you know has an invisible illness (Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression , Diabetes, LUPUS, RA, Fibromyalga, Crohns, Arthritis, etc..) Never judge what you don't understand.
It is hard for people to understand what depression and anxiety are like. It's hard for me to describe. It's like no matter what you say or do, you can't convince me that someone is not out to do me wrong or that something bad is not going to happen. If something bad or unwanted does happen, all I can do is think about it. And I'll replay the situation over and over and over again in my head. It's hard to explain that even though you know in your head that you're a fun person to be around, in your heart, you feel so worthless that you don't want to be social. A panic attack feels like you're drowning in air, and your heart could fly out of your chest at any given second. And what is really hard is for people to understand that even though you look fine, some days are good, and some days are bad. You can't just tell people, "oh my depression is flaring up again." They think you take a pill and are done with it, but it's a daily struggle.
I guess all of this is to say I know this is my cross, and I've accepted that, and I would almost even say I'm happy to do it for the Lord. But I know I could be better about offering up my daily sufferings. And I know I could pray more for those like me who suffer from both depression and anxiety.
Lord, if it is your will, heal those who silently suffer. If not, we pray that their suffering may serve You and Your Kingdom.
6/24/2011
Fish Friday
I've had pretty good days this past week. In fact, it's odd because I'd say in general my days are more good than bad or apathetic as they used to be. I'm happy with my job, my living arrangement, and I'm actually kinda happy being single. I mean, sure, I wouldn't mind a cute boy to buy me dinner and a movie every now and then, but for the most part, I'm keeping busy and happy on my own.
I'm learning more about myself than I ever really knew. For instance, I did not know the following about myself:
1. I like folk music and old country music.
2. I like floral print.
3. I like awkward, quirky, cult comedies.
4. I like hipster clothing and house decorations, even though I'm totally not a hipster.
5. I like being able to walk places, even if it's 100 degrees out.
I really haven't been anxious about anyone or anything except for the other night for just an hour or two.
And I feel like I've been more spiritually productive than I have in a long time.
I've heard Father say it before that if a person is depressed, then their spiritual life will suffer. I can't help but think that held true for me. Moreover, I've been diligent about taking my medicine, but I've also had to become more disciplined. Many doctors and therapists recommend exercise, a balanced diet, and strangely enough, sunshine to keep a chemically imbalanced person even keeled. I've been trying to do these things, as well as at least go to Mass three times a week.
I guess all I'm trying to say is while I still wrestle with situations and things and feelings in my heart an head, overall, I'm happy. And that's something I haven't had in a long, long time.
Thanks be to God.
Less than 3,
V.
I'm learning more about myself than I ever really knew. For instance, I did not know the following about myself:
1. I like folk music and old country music.
2. I like floral print.
3. I like awkward, quirky, cult comedies.
4. I like hipster clothing and house decorations, even though I'm totally not a hipster.
5. I like being able to walk places, even if it's 100 degrees out.
I really haven't been anxious about anyone or anything except for the other night for just an hour or two.
And I feel like I've been more spiritually productive than I have in a long time.
I've heard Father say it before that if a person is depressed, then their spiritual life will suffer. I can't help but think that held true for me. Moreover, I've been diligent about taking my medicine, but I've also had to become more disciplined. Many doctors and therapists recommend exercise, a balanced diet, and strangely enough, sunshine to keep a chemically imbalanced person even keeled. I've been trying to do these things, as well as at least go to Mass three times a week.
I guess all I'm trying to say is while I still wrestle with situations and things and feelings in my heart an head, overall, I'm happy. And that's something I haven't had in a long, long time.
Thanks be to God.
Less than 3,
V.
6/21/2011
Desert Unicorn Prayers
Today, I went all dolled up to mass. In the pouring rain no less. I went because I find myself doing better when I receive communion more often than not, but I must admit, I did have an ulterior motive.
Cute (devout) Catholic boys would probably be there.
And so off I go in makeup and hair and cute casual outfit, and I'll be darned if the priest was the only male there. That would be my luck. Apparently, in Mississippi, a cute, not-lapsed, devout Catholic boy is like a unicorn: it's magical and beautiful and NON-EXISTENT. (And mass only lasted fifteen minutes. No lie. Fifteen minutes! Is that even allowed?!)
Then again, I've really been trying to quiet my mind and filter out all the noise in my life lately. I've been trying to find my desert. I can't say I've for sure found it yet, but I think I'm getting there. And while on my way, it seems I've just picked up on a few things. I can't really explain them; they aren't feelings or thoughts, it's more just like it was knowledge just presented to me, and I just trust it. They are as follows:
As much as I want to be married, I'm not ready. How can I be ready to marry someone when I'm not even sure who I am? But everyday I'm single, I find out a bit more about myself. I grow a bit more as a Catholic girl. If I allow God to help me make the best version of me, I'll be better for my husband if and when that time comes.
On a similar note, it seems that just knowing he's the one is a supernatural gift from God. Worrying about it is useless. Worrying is a man's way of trying to affect a situation for the outcome he desires. Worrying is essentially a distrust in God. Faith, on the other hand, accepts this supernatural gift and follows through on it. Now I really get why people used to frequently refer to marriage as a "leap of faith." It is completely an act of faith to believe that God has picked out a certain person for you and then marry that person.
I've really, really struggled in my prayer life since becoming Catholic. I always feel like my prayers are useless, ill-worded, and just plain not good enough. I never know what to say, and there's only so many rote prayers you can say before you're just going through the motions. I'm glad to have encountered the message that prayer is learned quite a few places this week. I'm still working on it, but I'm trying.
Not only that, but Jesus knows our hearts, and He loves us. I know that sometimes, when you love someone dearly, you can just be in the same room with him and know exactly what he is feeling and thinking. Imagine that brought to perfection! Maybe this is part of what contemplation is - being content of sitting in the same room with someone who loves you more than you know, more than you can imagine. Someone who just wants to sit in silence with you, who doesn't even need you to speak to express your desires. Someone who knows your desires before you even realized you wanted that desire for yourself. Jesus can do these things for us if only we would let him, if only we would learn how.
Less than 3,
V.
Cute (devout) Catholic boys would probably be there.
And so off I go in makeup and hair and cute casual outfit, and I'll be darned if the priest was the only male there. That would be my luck. Apparently, in Mississippi, a cute, not-lapsed, devout Catholic boy is like a unicorn: it's magical and beautiful and NON-EXISTENT. (And mass only lasted fifteen minutes. No lie. Fifteen minutes! Is that even allowed?!)
Then again, I've really been trying to quiet my mind and filter out all the noise in my life lately. I've been trying to find my desert. I can't say I've for sure found it yet, but I think I'm getting there. And while on my way, it seems I've just picked up on a few things. I can't really explain them; they aren't feelings or thoughts, it's more just like it was knowledge just presented to me, and I just trust it. They are as follows:
As much as I want to be married, I'm not ready. How can I be ready to marry someone when I'm not even sure who I am? But everyday I'm single, I find out a bit more about myself. I grow a bit more as a Catholic girl. If I allow God to help me make the best version of me, I'll be better for my husband if and when that time comes.
On a similar note, it seems that just knowing he's the one is a supernatural gift from God. Worrying about it is useless. Worrying is a man's way of trying to affect a situation for the outcome he desires. Worrying is essentially a distrust in God. Faith, on the other hand, accepts this supernatural gift and follows through on it. Now I really get why people used to frequently refer to marriage as a "leap of faith." It is completely an act of faith to believe that God has picked out a certain person for you and then marry that person.
I've really, really struggled in my prayer life since becoming Catholic. I always feel like my prayers are useless, ill-worded, and just plain not good enough. I never know what to say, and there's only so many rote prayers you can say before you're just going through the motions. I'm glad to have encountered the message that prayer is learned quite a few places this week. I'm still working on it, but I'm trying.
Not only that, but Jesus knows our hearts, and He loves us. I know that sometimes, when you love someone dearly, you can just be in the same room with him and know exactly what he is feeling and thinking. Imagine that brought to perfection! Maybe this is part of what contemplation is - being content of sitting in the same room with someone who loves you more than you know, more than you can imagine. Someone who just wants to sit in silence with you, who doesn't even need you to speak to express your desires. Someone who knows your desires before you even realized you wanted that desire for yourself. Jesus can do these things for us if only we would let him, if only we would learn how.
Less than 3,
V.
6/19/2011
The Desert Is Calling Me.
I'll be the first person to admit that I'm naive, gullible, and dense. Just the other day, I was out with some friends, and I had a two minute long delay understanding the topic at hand. So these qualities, especially being so dense, can kind of make it hard for me to see and hear God, especially if He whispers, which I think most of the time, He is inclined to do.
I think God has pity on poor dense me though; often times, I feel like I get hit over the head with a frying pan with a certain messages. This past Lent, everywhere I turned, I ran into the phrase, "happiness is a choice."
Now, I keep running into the idea of the desert. It first started here. And then about two or three weeks ago it was mentioned in a homily. And then father mentioned it last week in the Adult Catechism class. And I was browsing the Catholic book section of Books A Million last tuesday, and I opened it to a page about going to the desert of oneself to pray. This is one of those times that I keep seeing the idea come up so much, there has to be something to it. I think God is calling me to the desert - my desert so that I can hear Him, listen to Him, and do His will. So that I can better learn how to pray.
Prayer is always something I have struggled with, mainly because what I was taught of prayer growing up was pray what you feel, ask God for what you want. If you're in His good graces, He'll bless you. Vending machine God, basically. But somewhere along the line in college, I figured out on my own that shouldn't be how it goes. But heck if I knew how to pray or where to find some guidance.
I'm good at sporadic prayer. I'm good at short little one liners during the day when I have a trying student, and I'm alright at remembering my nightly prayers. Sometimes I pass out saying them. I'm awful at morning prayers. I'm awful in the morning period. I'm lucky if I remember to say a Hail Mary on the drive to work I'm so grumpy and groggy. I try to sit and listen and do contemplative prayer, but I get restless. And for some reason, the Rosary relaxes me so much, I always pass out before finishing the third or fourth decade. I have an odd feeling if I make it to purgatory, (fingers crossed!), I'm going to have to finish all my unfinished rosaries.
I have no idea what God is going to tell me when I find my desert or how long I'll have to wait before He speaks. I'm a little scared actually. But also excited. And hopeful. I've really been trying to relinquish the need to control every aspect of my life, and as Father John said the other day, "allow God to surprise [me]." I feel like something big is coming, and I really think it is going to surprise me. But I also think it's going to entail a bit more of change and growing pains.
The desert is calling me, and I'm going, fingers crossed and holding my breath.
Less than 3,
V.
I think God has pity on poor dense me though; often times, I feel like I get hit over the head with a frying pan with a certain messages. This past Lent, everywhere I turned, I ran into the phrase, "happiness is a choice."
Now, I keep running into the idea of the desert. It first started here. And then about two or three weeks ago it was mentioned in a homily. And then father mentioned it last week in the Adult Catechism class. And I was browsing the Catholic book section of Books A Million last tuesday, and I opened it to a page about going to the desert of oneself to pray. This is one of those times that I keep seeing the idea come up so much, there has to be something to it. I think God is calling me to the desert - my desert so that I can hear Him, listen to Him, and do His will. So that I can better learn how to pray.
Prayer is always something I have struggled with, mainly because what I was taught of prayer growing up was pray what you feel, ask God for what you want. If you're in His good graces, He'll bless you. Vending machine God, basically. But somewhere along the line in college, I figured out on my own that shouldn't be how it goes. But heck if I knew how to pray or where to find some guidance.
I'm good at sporadic prayer. I'm good at short little one liners during the day when I have a trying student, and I'm alright at remembering my nightly prayers. Sometimes I pass out saying them. I'm awful at morning prayers. I'm awful in the morning period. I'm lucky if I remember to say a Hail Mary on the drive to work I'm so grumpy and groggy. I try to sit and listen and do contemplative prayer, but I get restless. And for some reason, the Rosary relaxes me so much, I always pass out before finishing the third or fourth decade. I have an odd feeling if I make it to purgatory, (fingers crossed!), I'm going to have to finish all my unfinished rosaries.
I have no idea what God is going to tell me when I find my desert or how long I'll have to wait before He speaks. I'm a little scared actually. But also excited. And hopeful. I've really been trying to relinquish the need to control every aspect of my life, and as Father John said the other day, "allow God to surprise [me]." I feel like something big is coming, and I really think it is going to surprise me. But I also think it's going to entail a bit more of change and growing pains.
The desert is calling me, and I'm going, fingers crossed and holding my breath.
Less than 3,
V.
6/09/2011
Am I growing up as a Catholic?
Somedays, submitting your will to God's will . . .
just plain sucks.
If your will doesn't match up with His, that is. I really, really wanted this one thing to happen. And it almost did, but now it's not. Events did a complete 180. And it's just not right or fair or even makes sense!
I've been a good little girl though and following along, even though my heart completely wants to do something else. I've reasoned through it with this brain God gave me, prayed about it, and I decided to back off and just leave it alone. This is abnormal for me. Old me would have completely been gung ho and not contemplate anything.
Crazy thing is, I'm getting confirmations (in the Ignatian sense) left and right that I made the right decision, and I'm following God's will for me.
So after all of that, why do I still want to be disobedient? Why do I still want to want what's bad for me?
Somedays, I just want to hit my head against a wall. Today, I think I will.
Growing pains suck.
Aside from how this entry sounds, I'm very happy in my new place. I just needed a place to vent for a minute.
Less than 3,
V.
just plain sucks.
If your will doesn't match up with His, that is. I really, really wanted this one thing to happen. And it almost did, but now it's not. Events did a complete 180. And it's just not right or fair or even makes sense!
I've been a good little girl though and following along, even though my heart completely wants to do something else. I've reasoned through it with this brain God gave me, prayed about it, and I decided to back off and just leave it alone. This is abnormal for me. Old me would have completely been gung ho and not contemplate anything.
Crazy thing is, I'm getting confirmations (in the Ignatian sense) left and right that I made the right decision, and I'm following God's will for me.
So after all of that, why do I still want to be disobedient? Why do I still want to want what's bad for me?
Somedays, I just want to hit my head against a wall. Today, I think I will.
Growing pains suck.
Aside from how this entry sounds, I'm very happy in my new place. I just needed a place to vent for a minute.
Less than 3,
V.
6/03/2011
Fish Friday (Without Fish)
I don't know why it's so hard for people to be honest.
Well, I do. We can point the fingers to original sin for our inclination and predilection towards evil.
But I guess after being Baptized, I do see how it seems to be easier for me to be honest in matters big and small whereas before, I had no problem with being dishonest. I can't be too angry at the unbaptized and ignorant because they really don't know any better. More so, I'd rather have pity on them and forgive them. It still doesn't change the fact that lies hurt. And when I start to feel myself inclined to lie, I'll remember this feeling, and hopefully, by the Grace of God, my mouth will speak the Truth.
I've been wearing my St. Therese medal lately because I felt like I needed the patron Saint of the Little Way to give me encouragement to do small acts with great love. I feel like she's helped me accomplish that.
I've also tried to go to mass daily with special intentions, and I've been lighting candles as much as I possibly can. Asking the Holy Mother for help. Asking Jesus for peace about the whole thing.
And I've finally got it. I can't say it was the answer I was hoping and praying for, but it definitely gives me peace, and that is, ultimately, what I desire.
Thanks Be to God.
Well, I do. We can point the fingers to original sin for our inclination and predilection towards evil.
Fish Friday - noodles, rotel, Tony's spice, and velveeta. This can't be healthy for you.
But I guess after being Baptized, I do see how it seems to be easier for me to be honest in matters big and small whereas before, I had no problem with being dishonest. I can't be too angry at the unbaptized and ignorant because they really don't know any better. More so, I'd rather have pity on them and forgive them. It still doesn't change the fact that lies hurt. And when I start to feel myself inclined to lie, I'll remember this feeling, and hopefully, by the Grace of God, my mouth will speak the Truth.
I've been wearing my St. Therese medal lately because I felt like I needed the patron Saint of the Little Way to give me encouragement to do small acts with great love. I feel like she's helped me accomplish that.
I've also tried to go to mass daily with special intentions, and I've been lighting candles as much as I possibly can. Asking the Holy Mother for help. Asking Jesus for peace about the whole thing.
And I've finally got it. I can't say it was the answer I was hoping and praying for, but it definitely gives me peace, and that is, ultimately, what I desire.
Thanks Be to God.
6/01/2011
A Quick Thought Before I Sleep
Reading Thomas Merton again. If you haven't read him, you seriously should. I haven't read him since I first seriously began wanting to convert. Here is something I found today that rings so true with me:
"The desert is the home of despair. And, now, despair is everywhere...This, then, is our desert: to live facing despair, but not to consent [to it]. To trample it down under hope in the Cross. To wage war against despair unceasingly. That war is our wilderness. If we wage it courageously, we will find Christ at our side. If we cannot face it, we will never find Him."
Less than 3,
V.
5/31/2011
Poof!
And just like that, I'm a Columbus kid now.
Already I feel quite at home. Tomorrow, I'm getting up to walk to morning mass.
How weird and awesome it is to say that. I could have always started my day with mass, but it seems so much more feasible right now, right here. And I'm sure I'll be the youngest person there, but I'm sure I'll make an impression just because I do have a young face.
And who knows? I might even bust out the veil. Or a hat. Probably a hat. But maybe my veil.
I can't decide.
But it's a new parish, a new town, and a new time. Why not be different? Why not be uuber Catholic girl?
I mean, out of all my new friends I've made here, probably the first thing they might say about me is, "oh, she's sweet. And super Catholic." So why not ask Father if I can donate an extra hour to adoration so that it can go until 10 p.m.? Why not ask to be involved in RCIA? I've been worried that this parish won't be as great as St. Joe's, but I can certainly help to build it up if I find it lacking.
Really though, I can't thank God enough right now. Everything changes. Everything. I've been on the go all my life it seems. I never really live in one place more than four or five years at a time. Boyfriends come and go, friends come and go, you have to leave your family to work...but the one thing that remains ever the same is God.
Thank God He doesn't change. Thank God He knew all this would happen and in His wisdom He left us with the faith so that where ever we went, His church, His word, His people would be there to help us on our way.
Thanks be to God.
Already I feel quite at home. Tomorrow, I'm getting up to walk to morning mass.
How weird and awesome it is to say that. I could have always started my day with mass, but it seems so much more feasible right now, right here. And I'm sure I'll be the youngest person there, but I'm sure I'll make an impression just because I do have a young face.
And who knows? I might even bust out the veil. Or a hat. Probably a hat. But maybe my veil.
I can't decide.
But it's a new parish, a new town, and a new time. Why not be different? Why not be uuber Catholic girl?
I mean, out of all my new friends I've made here, probably the first thing they might say about me is, "oh, she's sweet. And super Catholic." So why not ask Father if I can donate an extra hour to adoration so that it can go until 10 p.m.? Why not ask to be involved in RCIA? I've been worried that this parish won't be as great as St. Joe's, but I can certainly help to build it up if I find it lacking.
Really though, I can't thank God enough right now. Everything changes. Everything. I've been on the go all my life it seems. I never really live in one place more than four or five years at a time. Boyfriends come and go, friends come and go, you have to leave your family to work...but the one thing that remains ever the same is God.
Thank God He doesn't change. Thank God He knew all this would happen and in His wisdom He left us with the faith so that where ever we went, His church, His word, His people would be there to help us on our way.
Thanks be to God.
5/20/2011
I dropped my phone in the tub...
For some of you this might be a double dose (a la facebook), but in case you missed it there:
I dropped my phone in the tub. I am doing tech recon on it. Buuuuuuuut in the meantime, I am phoneless. So if you try to call or text, I am most definitely not going to get it.
Usually, this would start my day off wrong being sick, needing to pack for moving, and then dropping my phone in the tub, but for some reason, I'm totally just smiling it out and thinking, "there has to be a reason why God let me drop my phone in the tub."
Either A. I value it too much as a material possession or B. to keep me from talking to someone.
Who knows.
I'll figure it out in hindsight.
In the meantime, you can keep up with me on facebook and twitter.
I dropped my phone in the tub. I am doing tech recon on it. Buuuuuuuut in the meantime, I am phoneless. So if you try to call or text, I am most definitely not going to get it.
Usually, this would start my day off wrong being sick, needing to pack for moving, and then dropping my phone in the tub, but for some reason, I'm totally just smiling it out and thinking, "there has to be a reason why God let me drop my phone in the tub."
Either A. I value it too much as a material possession or B. to keep me from talking to someone.
Who knows.
I'll figure it out in hindsight.
In the meantime, you can keep up with me on facebook and twitter.
5/16/2011
Happy (Un)Anniversary
Today is a very special day. In many, many ways.
Today is my parents anniversary, and they've been married for twenty-six years. I've noticed lately that it's hard to find parents who are still married, and aside from my roommate and Heathcliff, I can't think of anyone else I know off the top of my head whose parents are still married (with the exclusion of Catholic couples, of course).
Today is also the day Heathcliff and I had first picked as our wedding date. And then pushed it back a year. And another year. And then scrapped it altogether.
In Lewis Caroll's Through the Looking Glass, Alice learns from the Mad Hatter and the March Hare about un-birthdays. (Many who read this entry can probably recall the Disney song). I'm a fan of un-birthdays. But today, I decided, is my un-anniversary.
Instead of sitting around and moping about "oh lonely me. I'll be single forever. I'm going to turn into bachelorette lonely English teacher crazy cat lady that my students will pity," I am focusing on what's good in life. I normally don't eat pizza during the week (that's usually for friends or Friday nights), but I am tonight. I am going to watch a movie with a girlfriend, talk about boys, and probably even bake brownies and then eat just a bite too much. I'm going to thank God for not letting me get married to the wrong guy and pray that He gives me the ability to see and hear Him when I do meet the right guy. I am going to praise God for everything good, give him my sorrows, and enjoy the gift of life He gave to me around twenty-five years ago.
Happy anniversary mum and dad (though they don't even know this blog exists). Here's to twenty five more, God willing.
And thank you Jesus for another good day.
Glory and praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.
Your will be done, not mine, O Lord.
Less than 3,
V.
Today is my parents anniversary, and they've been married for twenty-six years. I've noticed lately that it's hard to find parents who are still married, and aside from my roommate and Heathcliff, I can't think of anyone else I know off the top of my head whose parents are still married (with the exclusion of Catholic couples, of course).
Today is also the day Heathcliff and I had first picked as our wedding date. And then pushed it back a year. And another year. And then scrapped it altogether.
In Lewis Caroll's Through the Looking Glass, Alice learns from the Mad Hatter and the March Hare about un-birthdays. (Many who read this entry can probably recall the Disney song). I'm a fan of un-birthdays. But today, I decided, is my un-anniversary.
Instead of sitting around and moping about "oh lonely me. I'll be single forever. I'm going to turn into bachelorette lonely English teacher crazy cat lady that my students will pity," I am focusing on what's good in life. I normally don't eat pizza during the week (that's usually for friends or Friday nights), but I am tonight. I am going to watch a movie with a girlfriend, talk about boys, and probably even bake brownies and then eat just a bite too much. I'm going to thank God for not letting me get married to the wrong guy and pray that He gives me the ability to see and hear Him when I do meet the right guy. I am going to praise God for everything good, give him my sorrows, and enjoy the gift of life He gave to me around twenty-five years ago.
Happy anniversary mum and dad (though they don't even know this blog exists). Here's to twenty five more, God willing.
And thank you Jesus for another good day.
Glory and praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.
Your will be done, not mine, O Lord.
Less than 3,
V.
5/15/2011
The Wheels Are Turnin...
I learned something very important today, but I don't quite have time to type it all out.
In fact, I think I've learned a lot of important things lately.
And oddly enough, today I felt twenty-five. Most of the time I feel like a seventeen year old trapped in a twenty-five year old body (and occasionally I am, especially when playing video games). But today I honestly felt twenty five. And I was okay with it.
Moreover, I've been alone all day with just me, Jesus, and the kitties. Normally, this would depress me, and given the current state of affairs with money, moving, and romantic relationships, I'd be in bed asleep. But not today. Today, I've had peace.
I don't know what I did to deserve it, but thank you Lord Jesus.
I mean it.
Less than 3,
V.
In fact, I think I've learned a lot of important things lately.
And oddly enough, today I felt twenty-five. Most of the time I feel like a seventeen year old trapped in a twenty-five year old body (and occasionally I am, especially when playing video games). But today I honestly felt twenty five. And I was okay with it.
Moreover, I've been alone all day with just me, Jesus, and the kitties. Normally, this would depress me, and given the current state of affairs with money, moving, and romantic relationships, I'd be in bed asleep. But not today. Today, I've had peace.
I don't know what I did to deserve it, but thank you Lord Jesus.
I mean it.
Less than 3,
V.
5/05/2011
The One
I've always heard people talk about it. They always say these cliche things like, "when you know, you know."
However, I've always been a hardcore skeptic. At a very young age, (fourteen I believe), I decided there was no such thing as a soul mate. And I pretty much stood by that until a few months ago. Lately, it's been a topic I've been wrestling with.
I've always believed that love was a choice. You pick a person you like, you make a commitment, and then you stand by them. And I'll be the first to admit, I 'm in love with fairy tale love, but I really don't believe it happens for us in the "real world." By my old logic, there is no certain counter part for every person on this Earth; it's all just a choice, Mr. Right Now as opposed to Mr. Right.
But as a Catholic, if you're called to marriage, then you know God has your perfect husband picked out for you. And God is good, so he will bring you and dear hubby together. But, you're a human! So you can make the choice to love this man or not. I can't fathom that.
I forced myself to go sit in the wedding department of Belk the other day. Don't ask why. I don't really know. I was feeling sad, but I told myself that I was going to go face what was making me sad and just get over it for the day. And something struck me the other day while I was looking at all the pretty plates and silver photo frames: I've never thought it in my life. If all these people can describe the same experience of "just knowing" into the phrase "the one," there has to be some credence to it...that sort of revelation to happen to that many people, I can only assume, can come from God.
And then, I had another epiphany:
As many guys as I've dated, as many guys as I've been puppy dog love gaga over, I've never thought, never felt, never just known he's the one.
I've always had this super pragmatic approach to love, and I suppose all my past relationships have been dominated by my own will instead of God's will to pick out someone for me. And why wouldn't I let God pick out someone for me? He knows me better than me after all. . .
So I guess I have decided that I do believe in soul mates...to an extent. I trust God has someone picked out for me and that he will be super awesome. It's hard giving up this control, but it gets a little easier everyday.
However, I've always been a hardcore skeptic. At a very young age, (fourteen I believe), I decided there was no such thing as a soul mate. And I pretty much stood by that until a few months ago. Lately, it's been a topic I've been wrestling with.
I've always believed that love was a choice. You pick a person you like, you make a commitment, and then you stand by them. And I'll be the first to admit, I 'm in love with fairy tale love, but I really don't believe it happens for us in the "real world." By my old logic, there is no certain counter part for every person on this Earth; it's all just a choice, Mr. Right Now as opposed to Mr. Right.
But as a Catholic, if you're called to marriage, then you know God has your perfect husband picked out for you. And God is good, so he will bring you and dear hubby together. But, you're a human! So you can make the choice to love this man or not. I can't fathom that.
I forced myself to go sit in the wedding department of Belk the other day. Don't ask why. I don't really know. I was feeling sad, but I told myself that I was going to go face what was making me sad and just get over it for the day. And something struck me the other day while I was looking at all the pretty plates and silver photo frames: I've never thought it in my life. If all these people can describe the same experience of "just knowing" into the phrase "the one," there has to be some credence to it...that sort of revelation to happen to that many people, I can only assume, can come from God.
And then, I had another epiphany:
As many guys as I've dated, as many guys as I've been puppy dog love gaga over, I've never thought, never felt, never just known he's the one.
I've always had this super pragmatic approach to love, and I suppose all my past relationships have been dominated by my own will instead of God's will to pick out someone for me. And why wouldn't I let God pick out someone for me? He knows me better than me after all. . .
So I guess I have decided that I do believe in soul mates...to an extent. I trust God has someone picked out for me and that he will be super awesome. It's hard giving up this control, but it gets a little easier everyday.
4/26/2011
This Is My Cross To Bear
I went for a check up at the doctor to review how well the depression medication has been working. (And for the most part, it has been working quite well, actually. So if you notice more pep in my step that's why). Unfortunately, it seems that what I most feared him saying is exactly what he said:
Chronic Clinical Depression
It runs in the women in my family. I had hoped by some weird genetic thing it would skip me altogether, but I guess not.
And I had it in my head that if I went on medication for it, I would somehow be acknowledging to the world that I am crazy even though I had a roommate who studied psychology and had explained it like so: "You take care of your physical health and your spiritual health, so why not your mental health?"
And even still, I had another friend who explained it as such: "If you have a stomach ache, you take a pill to make it go away. So it's the same thing. Your heart aches, so you take a pill to make it go away."
And to some extent, it is true. But I still have my days. For example, the other day, Heathcliff's mom e-mailed me to express how upset she was that I wasn't around for Easter (which I completely don't understand because she is pagan-primitive Baptist [odd, yes, but it's true]). Of course, that set me off. All I wanted to do was to crawl into bed, turn the lights off, and stare at the wall for the entire day.
But this is a lesson I learned this past Lent - and oddly enough, it started with a church sign. Every time I go by a church sign, I like to read the pithy little sayings. There's one on the way to work. And about the start of Lent, it read, "happiness is a choice." I scoffed at it, but for some reason, it stuck in my head, and every morning I passed by it, I read it and read it again. And I really began to wonder if happiness was truly a choice. I mean, after all, I believe in freewill - I am a Catholic.
And then, everywhere I went, I began to hear that phrase repeated without even bringing it up. A friend I hadn't seen in five years told me upon hanging out with me, "Happiness is a choice." When I first started hanging out with Ireland, the subject came up, and he even said, "happiness is a choice." Everywhere I freaking turned, it was as if God was beating me over the head with this message.
For the entirety of Lent, I feel like this is what I was supposed to have learned. Happiness truly is a choice. Of course, there will be things to make you sad, but you can't let the sadness dominate you to where it sucks all the joy from your life. I had let the depression overtake almost all of my life, even to the point where I got no joy from going to mass. It had almost become a chore. After being on the medicine, I'm more than happy to go to mass on Sunday and weekdays if I have the time.
All in all, I guess what I'm saying is that I know God gives everyone what they can handle. And so far in my life, I really didn't feel like I had any crosses. But I feel like this is my cross to bear. My hardship to offer up. My suffering to join to His. And I will choose to be happy with the circumstances I'm dealt, and when I can't handle it and want to be sad, I will offer it up to Him.
Glory and praise to you Lord Jesus Christ. Your will be done.
Chronic Clinical Depression
It runs in the women in my family. I had hoped by some weird genetic thing it would skip me altogether, but I guess not.
And I had it in my head that if I went on medication for it, I would somehow be acknowledging to the world that I am crazy even though I had a roommate who studied psychology and had explained it like so: "You take care of your physical health and your spiritual health, so why not your mental health?"
And even still, I had another friend who explained it as such: "If you have a stomach ache, you take a pill to make it go away. So it's the same thing. Your heart aches, so you take a pill to make it go away."
And to some extent, it is true. But I still have my days. For example, the other day, Heathcliff's mom e-mailed me to express how upset she was that I wasn't around for Easter (which I completely don't understand because she is pagan-primitive Baptist [odd, yes, but it's true]). Of course, that set me off. All I wanted to do was to crawl into bed, turn the lights off, and stare at the wall for the entire day.
But this is a lesson I learned this past Lent - and oddly enough, it started with a church sign. Every time I go by a church sign, I like to read the pithy little sayings. There's one on the way to work. And about the start of Lent, it read, "happiness is a choice." I scoffed at it, but for some reason, it stuck in my head, and every morning I passed by it, I read it and read it again. And I really began to wonder if happiness was truly a choice. I mean, after all, I believe in freewill - I am a Catholic.
And then, everywhere I went, I began to hear that phrase repeated without even bringing it up. A friend I hadn't seen in five years told me upon hanging out with me, "Happiness is a choice." When I first started hanging out with Ireland, the subject came up, and he even said, "happiness is a choice." Everywhere I freaking turned, it was as if God was beating me over the head with this message.
For the entirety of Lent, I feel like this is what I was supposed to have learned. Happiness truly is a choice. Of course, there will be things to make you sad, but you can't let the sadness dominate you to where it sucks all the joy from your life. I had let the depression overtake almost all of my life, even to the point where I got no joy from going to mass. It had almost become a chore. After being on the medicine, I'm more than happy to go to mass on Sunday and weekdays if I have the time.
All in all, I guess what I'm saying is that I know God gives everyone what they can handle. And so far in my life, I really didn't feel like I had any crosses. But I feel like this is my cross to bear. My hardship to offer up. My suffering to join to His. And I will choose to be happy with the circumstances I'm dealt, and when I can't handle it and want to be sad, I will offer it up to Him.
Glory and praise to you Lord Jesus Christ. Your will be done.
4/22/2011
Quick Takes (Good Friday Style)
1.
I think I've learned some good lessons lately, the first being to be thankful for the gift of life. I feel like I've been living in black and white, sort of just droning on and on, and all the sudden, I hit Oz, and everything became technicolor.
2.
The second lesson seems to be is that I need to work on having patience. It not easy because I'm horribly impatient.
3.
The third lesson is the importance of free will. I get to make the choice of what I want every day. Now, I really think I'm beginning to understand of what it means to do God's will, even if it's not your own.
4.
My car broke down today, so no Good Friday mass for me. :( It's one of my favorites to attend. But I did get to eat supper with my parents. I am also driving a HUGE truck now. I look funny in it.
5.
The end of the school year is fast approaching. I have six classes worth of exams to start giving in the next two weeks. Not fun. I will probably be radio silent for a quite a bit.
6.
I might be moving to Columbus. I've said for a good while now that I feel like I've outgrown Starkville, and lately, most aspects of my life seem to be pulling me towards Columbus. Nothing is final yet, but I am seriously considering it.
7.
Ireland brought me roses. For no reason. None at all. Just because he could. I really like that boy.
4/13/2011
Why now?
I should be grading, but my head and heart are completely somewhere else right now.
Namely, on that boy, Ireland.
Obviously, I really like him. And contrary to other boys I've dated, I can actually name qualities about him that I really, really like. This is rare for me. I usually can't name specifics about why I like a boy; normally, I just say, "I just do."
But not with him. Nope. I mean, sure, there are the superficial things like his blue eyes or his smile or his geeky dress, but there are other things as well, like the way he laughs when he gets super tickled at something funny or the confused expression he'll make when he's trying hard to understand something and completely thinks his face looks dead even. I've never been able to say specific things such as those that I like about a boy before. . .
What I don't understand is this: why now?
Why now when everyone (who is not Catholic) around me is saying "BE SINGLE OR ELSE."
Why now just a little over a month after a failed two year engagement?
Why now after I'm spent and burned out on love and really have no energy to give of myself?
Why now when I decide to give up relationships for Lent, does a boy that I really like get dropped right into my lap? Is this some sort of test? Resist temptation and be rewarded? But God doesn't do that, right? Because that just seems a bit cruel...
I have my theory, which is that we basically need each other right now. He's going through a bit of a tough time and is a lapsed cradle Catholic. I think he needs someone strong in faith to hold his hand as he goes through this. And I'm the worst about saving myself for myself, but if I care enough, I'll try to save someone else (which in turn, can help you save yourself - if that makes any sense).
On the other hand, I need someone to hold my hand just as much. He's gone through a bout of clinical depression and also knows what it is like to deal with an anxiety disorder. So when I say, "I need to leave the grocery store, it's making me uncomfortable," or, "today is a bad day. I just can't convince myself to get out of the bed," he completely understands, but he also helps me deal with it.
Moreover, we're both twenty five and in very similar predicaments. He has no idea what he wants to do with his life, all of his friends are married or marrying, moved or moving, or having children, and he feels left in the dust. I feel the exact same way. Once upon a time, I thought I would be a writer and teach until I got that as a full time gig. Now, I really have no idea if that is what I want at all! Plus, it's nice being able to confide in someone without being accused of being jealous of married people.
So, in one way, I'm completely head over heels. My heart is trying to throw reason under the bus. But then my pragmatic side says:
1. He's a lapsed Catholic. You can't get too attached to him because you really can't get serious.
2. You don't know if he would be a good father.
3. You've known him a month.
4. You may like him so much just because he's not Heathcliff.
5. You may be rebounding.
And the thing is, I like him so much, I'm willing to back off for a bit and really think this out! I'm terrified I'm going to screw this up somehow! That's how much of a good feeling I have about this...
I really feel like I'm over thinking things. But faith and reason should be able to work together right? How do you balance the two?
I really just want to bang my head on the wall...
Any suggestions for Saints to petition are always welcomed.
Less than 3,
V.
Namely, on that boy, Ireland.
Obviously, I really like him. And contrary to other boys I've dated, I can actually name qualities about him that I really, really like. This is rare for me. I usually can't name specifics about why I like a boy; normally, I just say, "I just do."
But not with him. Nope. I mean, sure, there are the superficial things like his blue eyes or his smile or his geeky dress, but there are other things as well, like the way he laughs when he gets super tickled at something funny or the confused expression he'll make when he's trying hard to understand something and completely thinks his face looks dead even. I've never been able to say specific things such as those that I like about a boy before. . .
What I don't understand is this: why now?
Why now when everyone (who is not Catholic) around me is saying "BE SINGLE OR ELSE."
Why now just a little over a month after a failed two year engagement?
Why now after I'm spent and burned out on love and really have no energy to give of myself?
Why now when I decide to give up relationships for Lent, does a boy that I really like get dropped right into my lap? Is this some sort of test? Resist temptation and be rewarded? But God doesn't do that, right? Because that just seems a bit cruel...
I have my theory, which is that we basically need each other right now. He's going through a bit of a tough time and is a lapsed cradle Catholic. I think he needs someone strong in faith to hold his hand as he goes through this. And I'm the worst about saving myself for myself, but if I care enough, I'll try to save someone else (which in turn, can help you save yourself - if that makes any sense).
On the other hand, I need someone to hold my hand just as much. He's gone through a bout of clinical depression and also knows what it is like to deal with an anxiety disorder. So when I say, "I need to leave the grocery store, it's making me uncomfortable," or, "today is a bad day. I just can't convince myself to get out of the bed," he completely understands, but he also helps me deal with it.
Moreover, we're both twenty five and in very similar predicaments. He has no idea what he wants to do with his life, all of his friends are married or marrying, moved or moving, or having children, and he feels left in the dust. I feel the exact same way. Once upon a time, I thought I would be a writer and teach until I got that as a full time gig. Now, I really have no idea if that is what I want at all! Plus, it's nice being able to confide in someone without being accused of being jealous of married people.
So, in one way, I'm completely head over heels. My heart is trying to throw reason under the bus. But then my pragmatic side says:
1. He's a lapsed Catholic. You can't get too attached to him because you really can't get serious.
2. You don't know if he would be a good father.
3. You've known him a month.
4. You may like him so much just because he's not Heathcliff.
5. You may be rebounding.
And the thing is, I like him so much, I'm willing to back off for a bit and really think this out! I'm terrified I'm going to screw this up somehow! That's how much of a good feeling I have about this...
I really feel like I'm over thinking things. But faith and reason should be able to work together right? How do you balance the two?
I really just want to bang my head on the wall...
Any suggestions for Saints to petition are always welcomed.
Less than 3,
V.
4/12/2011
(A Belated) Weekend Highlights (From Two Weeks Ago)
V: *looking at the gps and pressing the breaks*
Ireland: Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetie!
V: What? *stops just in front of car ahead of us*
Ireland: Oh, you see that car. Ok. Well, I'm not embarrassed at all now.
V: For what? Being a backseat driver?
Ireland: No, for what I just called you.
__________________________________
Ireland: Do you drink?
V. Occasionally. I get tipsy easily. And if I drink till I'm tipsy, then I don't count my drinks and get drunk. And it's a sin to get drunk! So I don't drink that much.
Ireland: I don't have that problem. I never get drunk. It must be the Irish because I have to drink like ten drinks before I feel anything!
V. Seriously?!?! That's almost a superpower.
Ireland: That's a lame superpower! How am I supposed to save the world with that?
__________________________________
V. : Sometimes, I dumb myself down around people to fit in. A lot of guys have problems with me because I've got two degrees. I like book stores, and I like books. So, I'm not pointing out all these books I've read to be bragging. I just don't want you to think I'm flaunting it in your face.
Ireland: It doesn't bother me. Let me show you something. *drags V. to the comic book section*
Read it, own it, own it, own it, read it, own it....
V. : I haven't read any of these.
Ireland: Exactly. But this is what I'm educated about. You like books, I like comic books. We're even. And no it doesn't bother me that you're smart. So don't change.
___________________________________
V. : Oh gosh, it's so nice to find someone who has all the same interests and a similar sense of humor! I've learned to really scale my nerdyness back to fit in.
Ireland: *leaning in across the table and whispering* Don't hold back. Talk nerdy to me!
V. : Ahahaha, that's so cheesy, but I love it!
___________________________________
Store Clerk: Do you need any help?
V.: Oh, no thank you, but thank you!
Store Clerk: By the way, I like your style.
V.: OH! Thanks!
Ireland: You know, I was going to jump in and but then I saw how excited you were about that compliment, and I said, no, let her have her moment. She looks so proud.
And there are a few more moments, but those I'll keep to myself.
Less than three,
V.
Ireland: Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetie!
V: What? *stops just in front of car ahead of us*
Ireland: Oh, you see that car. Ok. Well, I'm not embarrassed at all now.
V: For what? Being a backseat driver?
Ireland: No, for what I just called you.
__________________________________
Ireland: Do you drink?
V. Occasionally. I get tipsy easily. And if I drink till I'm tipsy, then I don't count my drinks and get drunk. And it's a sin to get drunk! So I don't drink that much.
Ireland: I don't have that problem. I never get drunk. It must be the Irish because I have to drink like ten drinks before I feel anything!
V. Seriously?!?! That's almost a superpower.
Ireland: That's a lame superpower! How am I supposed to save the world with that?
__________________________________
V. : Sometimes, I dumb myself down around people to fit in. A lot of guys have problems with me because I've got two degrees. I like book stores, and I like books. So, I'm not pointing out all these books I've read to be bragging. I just don't want you to think I'm flaunting it in your face.
Ireland: It doesn't bother me. Let me show you something. *drags V. to the comic book section*
Read it, own it, own it, own it, read it, own it....
V. : I haven't read any of these.
Ireland: Exactly. But this is what I'm educated about. You like books, I like comic books. We're even. And no it doesn't bother me that you're smart. So don't change.
___________________________________
V. : Oh gosh, it's so nice to find someone who has all the same interests and a similar sense of humor! I've learned to really scale my nerdyness back to fit in.
Ireland: *leaning in across the table and whispering* Don't hold back. Talk nerdy to me!
V. : Ahahaha, that's so cheesy, but I love it!
___________________________________
Store Clerk: Do you need any help?
V.: Oh, no thank you, but thank you!
Store Clerk: By the way, I like your style.
V.: OH! Thanks!
Ireland: You know, I was going to jump in and but then I saw how excited you were about that compliment, and I said, no, let her have her moment. She looks so proud.
And there are a few more moments, but those I'll keep to myself.
Less than three,
V.
4/02/2011
Fish Friday
Good grief. I just got in from hanging out with Ireland.
We had dinner at 5:15.
5:15! And I got in at 1:00!!!
And all we did was talk. We have so much in common. Not just superficial stuff, but stuff stuff.
And he said grace before eating!
And dear goodness he makes me laugh, so hard.
And I can make him laugh. That's rare. I very rarely make boys laugh, but he thinks I'm funny.
And to think, he just landed right into my lap. Like, seriously, this was an effortless sort of "hey, here's this guy. Meet him."
Like I said, I'm not holding my breath, but I have a really good feeling about this one. But I'm proceeding with caution and asking the Lord for guidance in discernment.
God is so good.
Glory and Praise to You, Lord Jesus Christ. Your will be done.
We had dinner at 5:15.
5:15! And I got in at 1:00!!!
And all we did was talk. We have so much in common. Not just superficial stuff, but stuff stuff.
And he said grace before eating!
And dear goodness he makes me laugh, so hard.
And I can make him laugh. That's rare. I very rarely make boys laugh, but he thinks I'm funny.
And to think, he just landed right into my lap. Like, seriously, this was an effortless sort of "hey, here's this guy. Meet him."
Like I said, I'm not holding my breath, but I have a really good feeling about this one. But I'm proceeding with caution and asking the Lord for guidance in discernment.
God is so good.
Glory and Praise to You, Lord Jesus Christ. Your will be done.
3/31/2011
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling...
I met another boy.
This one is Irish.
Like, legit Irish.
His dad is full Irish.
His dad speaks Gaelic.
And this boy has blue eyes.
He's the exact same age as me.
He likes all the same music that I do.
He likes the same t.v. shows as me.
He likes video games (be still my beating heart!).
He gets my sense of humor because his is exactly the same.
He's every bit the nerd I am.
He's a cradle Catholic.
He's named after the last Holy Father.
And he eats fish on Fridays.
I'm not going to say I'm holding my breath, but I have really good feeling about this one.
Glory and praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
This one is Irish.
Like, legit Irish.
His dad is full Irish.
His dad speaks Gaelic.
And this boy has blue eyes.
He's the exact same age as me.
He likes all the same music that I do.
He likes the same t.v. shows as me.
He likes video games (be still my beating heart!).
He gets my sense of humor because his is exactly the same.
He's every bit the nerd I am.
He's a cradle Catholic.
He's named after the last Holy Father.
And he eats fish on Fridays.
I'm not going to say I'm holding my breath, but I have really good feeling about this one.
Glory and praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
3/18/2011
Seven Quick Takes
1.
I'm officially past the weepy stage thanks to google. I'm trying not to get angry. I'm trying to give the benefit of the doubt to him, but I find myself in a situation where it is very hard to do that. Just remember kiddos, EVERYTHING you say or do leaves a footprint on the 'net and can be traced. That is why I approach the internet with such anonymity.
2.
The boy is sooooo tall now. We used to be dead even. I now have to look up to him. This makes me giggle. He also makes some killer chocolate truffles.
3.
Shopping in Memphis with my family was fun. I've lost ten pounds, so here's to some new clothes and losing ten more.
4.
I once read that when you make a good decision, God gives you clarity. I have so much clarity right now that it's not even funny. I can 100% say that I am at peace with happened. Not happy yet, but that will take some time. But I'm definitely okay with it.
5.
I think for the first time in my Catholic life, I will have a whole laundry list of things to take to confession. I'm kinda excited by this? Maybe? Maybe not?
6.
There's a little boy from my hometown who got kicked in his face by a horse. Please pray for him.
7.
Show tonight! And I do believe I'm going so I can sleep in tomorrow morning and then go to Tupelo for confession tomorrow afternoon.
3/13/2011
Between the Sacred and Secular
I find myself walking a thin tightrope between the sacred and secular right now.
People on my left, people from my home, from my past, from pre-baptism are saying:
Go out! Drink yourself drunk! Indulge! Eat what you want! Wear what you want! Show that boy what he's missing.
People on my right, people from church, from my inner circle, from after baptism are saying:
Pray. We're praying for you. Offer it up.
Pray for me, please. I feel myself stumbling, but I haven't quite fallen yet. Part of it's due to the fact that I feel like I've had the carpet stolen out from under my feet. Heathcliff was my Godfather. I feel like he was my base. And I'm rebuilding. The other part is that I just want to give in. It's easier to just give in.
Father's homily this morning was comforting. That acronym, HALT...Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired...
I am all those things right now.
Hungry for love. For romantic love. For holding hands, butterflies, hugs that last a moment too long, kisses. I haven't been held or kissed or touched hands with a boy for probably over two years. I just don't want someone to tell he loves me, I want them to show it.
Angry at Heathcliff. I think I'm transitioning from over the sad part (except the occasional sulk) into anger. This is his fault. He quit. And led me on. For years. What a waste.
Lonely. I'm bad lonely. All my friends my age or older are married with children. (No offense!) The people I have to hang out with are younger by at least a couple of years. I fit in because I look young enough and use a cell phone for everything but phone calls, but I can't help but feel like I'm a little out of place, like I'm a little too serious. And I never feel any lonelier than when I'm lonely in a crowded room.
Tired from a relationship. I'm spent, burned out. I couldn't love a boy (like he should be loved) even if I wanted to right now. I can barely find the strength in me to do an adequate job at teaching. And when you're tired, it is always easier to let go and give in and give up than to fight when there's no fight left. And I have no fight left.
And so I know I'm vulnerable. But knowing that you're vulnerable is half the battle right?
And I'm pleading for your prayers. Like I said, I feel myself slipping. And I can see what father was talking about this morning. This weekend, while clothes shopping, I was picking out cute, but not showy tops. And literally, some random lady commented to me (and only me) "Life is too short. Show what you got while you can girl. I wasted my life being too conservative." I've always tried to dress modestly, and I couldn't help but think those words could have come straight from the Devil's mouth (not calling that woman personally the Devil). It was an extremely odd experience.
But that boy from home. He makes me laugh, and he's terribly sweet. He makes me smile, and he makes me happy. And I couldn't help but think to myself, "He'd make such a great convert." I think that's worth pursuing, if and when the time comes. Until then, I'll keep going to shows, having a good time, and keeping myself in line. Temperance, right? Temperance.
O Blessed St. Dwynwen, you who knew pain and peace, division and reconciliation, you have promised to aid lovers and you watch over those whose hearts have been broken. As you received three boons from an Angel, intercede for me to receive three blessings; to obtain my heart's desire * my special intention * or, if that is not God's will, a speedy healing from my pain; your guidance and assistance, that I may find love with the right person, at the right time, and in the right way; and an unshakeable faith in the boundless kindness and wisdom of God. And this I ask in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Christ have mercy on me, a sinner.
Less than 3,
V.
People on my left, people from my home, from my past, from pre-baptism are saying:
Go out! Drink yourself drunk! Indulge! Eat what you want! Wear what you want! Show that boy what he's missing.
People on my right, people from church, from my inner circle, from after baptism are saying:
Pray. We're praying for you. Offer it up.
Pray for me, please. I feel myself stumbling, but I haven't quite fallen yet. Part of it's due to the fact that I feel like I've had the carpet stolen out from under my feet. Heathcliff was my Godfather. I feel like he was my base. And I'm rebuilding. The other part is that I just want to give in. It's easier to just give in.
Father's homily this morning was comforting. That acronym, HALT...Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired...
I am all those things right now.
Hungry for love. For romantic love. For holding hands, butterflies, hugs that last a moment too long, kisses. I haven't been held or kissed or touched hands with a boy for probably over two years. I just don't want someone to tell he loves me, I want them to show it.
Angry at Heathcliff. I think I'm transitioning from over the sad part (except the occasional sulk) into anger. This is his fault. He quit. And led me on. For years. What a waste.
Lonely. I'm bad lonely. All my friends my age or older are married with children. (No offense!) The people I have to hang out with are younger by at least a couple of years. I fit in because I look young enough and use a cell phone for everything but phone calls, but I can't help but feel like I'm a little out of place, like I'm a little too serious. And I never feel any lonelier than when I'm lonely in a crowded room.
Tired from a relationship. I'm spent, burned out. I couldn't love a boy (like he should be loved) even if I wanted to right now. I can barely find the strength in me to do an adequate job at teaching. And when you're tired, it is always easier to let go and give in and give up than to fight when there's no fight left. And I have no fight left.
And so I know I'm vulnerable. But knowing that you're vulnerable is half the battle right?
And I'm pleading for your prayers. Like I said, I feel myself slipping. And I can see what father was talking about this morning. This weekend, while clothes shopping, I was picking out cute, but not showy tops. And literally, some random lady commented to me (and only me) "Life is too short. Show what you got while you can girl. I wasted my life being too conservative." I've always tried to dress modestly, and I couldn't help but think those words could have come straight from the Devil's mouth (not calling that woman personally the Devil). It was an extremely odd experience.
But that boy from home. He makes me laugh, and he's terribly sweet. He makes me smile, and he makes me happy. And I couldn't help but think to myself, "He'd make such a great convert." I think that's worth pursuing, if and when the time comes. Until then, I'll keep going to shows, having a good time, and keeping myself in line. Temperance, right? Temperance.
O Blessed St. Dwynwen, you who knew pain and peace, division and reconciliation, you have promised to aid lovers and you watch over those whose hearts have been broken. As you received three boons from an Angel, intercede for me to receive three blessings; to obtain my heart's desire * my special intention * or, if that is not God's will, a speedy healing from my pain; your guidance and assistance, that I may find love with the right person, at the right time, and in the right way; and an unshakeable faith in the boundless kindness and wisdom of God. And this I ask in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Christ have mercy on me, a sinner.
Less than 3,
V.
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