The Year of the Dog?

I don't know if you knew this about me or not, but I am not Chinese. You're surprised, I know. Most people are when they find this out. At any rate, my lack of ethnic affiliation with the Chinese may be what I am choosing, at the moment, to blame my big fat disappointment on. See, I thought this was going to be the Year of the Dog.

I didn't really. I'm a "cultured" person, who was (surprisingly) aware of the fact that according to the trusty old Chinese zodiac calendar this new year is in fact the year of the ox. But, I really want a dog, and until today believed about 96% that this was going to be my year. I want a dog for so many reasons. I want to take him for walks and runs and spoil him a little bit with the leftovers that I feel guilty throwing away but hate eating. I want him to bark when unwelcome visitors show up at my house in the middle of the night. I really miss having one around the house. I like to laugh at them when they do weird things, and there is a great big part of me that knows having a dog would be pretty good for me right now. I know the powerful ways that animals can weasel their way into our selfish hearts and make us better people. Forcing us toward disciplined lives where we exercise, feed, cuddle, and care for another creature even when we don't feel like it. In short, turns out, while I know I'm a dog person and my disappointment that the landlord (understandably) said "no" in a too-good-to-pass-up house is legit...what I think I would rather not admit is that what I'm craving right now is consistency and commitment.

My life as a transient graduate student is a good life, and I do love it. I'm thankful for this time, I'm thankful often for my lack of commitment and freedom and the excitement of training rigorously for a career I know I will love. But as our sinful human nature has destined us to do, I covet what others have. The houses they own, the careers they are building, and the places they are moving. I get jealous sometimes of the husbands they are meeting, and the marriages and babies they are celebrating. And I covet their dogs. So it goes. My parents never cease to amaze me with their understanding and constantly increasing wisdom. They get this stage of my life sometimes better than I do. They were 100% supportive of my excitement about getting a dog, and my reasons for wanting to do so. But when I called them all sad that Bill won't "let" me have him in my new house, they gave me the freedom to be disappointed, and then pointed out all the good things about this turn of events until I legitimately felt good about my decision not to rush into a long term relationship with Zeke.

***Yes, I already had my heart set on this little guy,
but I mean, come on. He's so adorable, and he's winking.
How sweet is that! In the words of Woody Allen: "the heart wants what the heart wants."


So, here's to hoping that I don't actually have to wait until the real year of the dog because, according to my research, that won't begin until February 16, 2018. Besides, I'm probably better off anyway that the Chinese zodiac calendar will not be the driving force behind when and what kind of pet I can get. Because, let's be honest. What the hell would I do with an ox?

Roll on 18 Wheeler

It rained here for most of the weekend. I loved it. It doesn't rain all that often in southern California, which is definitely nice, but I get pretty excited when once in a while it rains like it did this weekend. No messing around, heavy clouds, and a loud and steady downpour that is the best kind of lullaby. So I embraced the rain on this lazy three day weekend, lit fires in the fireplace, drank pots of coffee, did a whole lot of cooking and baking, watched Mamma Mia (three times...) and tryed to downplay how happy I was about having no choice but to wear my fabulous purple Hunter rainboots if and when I decided to leave the house, which was no more than four times I assure you. As the rain did it's cleansing work, rejuvenating our beautiful Santa Barbara landscape it defintely had a similar effect on me. I woke up Tuesday morning refreshed by the rain that was still coming down in sheets and got on the road extra early to ensure that I'd make it to Pasadena on time for Gender and Sexuality class-I know, you wouldn't want to miss it either.

Then, it all happened so fast. A semi truck changed from the right lane into my lane. He was still a ways ahead of me, but the back spray from his wheels was practically blinding me, so I changed lanes and from that moment it's like slow motion and fast motion at the same time in my mind. I lost control of the car and found myself spinning and sliding into the center guardrail. I did a full 360 followed by another 180 degrees before the back end of my car struck the guardrail, and I came to a stop. Even now, I seriously am amazed and somewhat impressed with myself that I remained calm. I didn't cry. I didn't have a panic attack. Both rational responses if you're me. I calmly assessed the situation, called 911, and waited. I thanked God that there was not another car coming behind me which would have made the situation so much worse. I thanked God (and myself, I suppose) for the fact that I was wearing a seatbelt. Sometimes I forget, which I know is terrible, but it's true, and yesterday I felt it doing exactly what it was supposed to do and I was so thankful. I replayed what had just happened a couple of times...Did I brake? I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to...Did I turn with the direction I was sliding? Isn't that what Brad taught me when he made me learn how to do donuts in the Hoffman parking lot? Or do you turn against the direction you are sliding? Crap, I don't know which one is correct, but I also have no idea what I did... About thirty seconds of this, followed by looking around, realizing I was fine. My car was (relatively) fine. I was (yet again) thankful for my rain boots and my raincoat as I headed out into the dark and the rain to see the damage as I waited for Officer Wolf to arrive. Driveable. There's a big dent that will be expensive to fix, but it's definitely driveable, so I continued to count my blessings. I got back in the car, wished I had a husband or boyfriend to call and then settled for the next best, or maybe even better thing and called my dad. He, too, was just glad I was okay, so after I talked to him for a few minutes I let him get back to work and just hung out and waited. Me and George Strait, hazard lights on, facing north on the southbound side of the freeway, watching the rain and the waves, still a bit shaken up, but waiting calmly nonetheless.

Apparently I was hard to find on the freeway. I was on that long stretch between Carpinteria and Ventura where there are no exits or definitive indicators of location, but finally the friendly officer arrived and filled out a report for me. He even let me come sit in his squad car while he did so since it was raining so hard. What a bizarre turn of events, staring at my injured vehicle while seated (next to a couple of rifles perched conveniently in the middle of the two front seats!) in a squad car. And then, a few minutes later, I just got back in the car and headed down to school. I was 45 minutes late, but then it seemed like just business as usual. A couple calls to my amazingly kind and helpful insurance agent, but really, life just went on.

And so it goes. Life goes on. The shit hits the fan. Your car winds up backwards on the freeway. You break up with someone that you thought was the love of your life, or even just mr. good-enough-for-now. Or one of the previously mentioned gentlemen doesn't even give you a second glance and your heart breaks with unrequited love. Friends move away and family members and co-workers and pets gets sick. We lose loved ones. We lose wallets and cell phones and jobs. We lose touch with old friends. And all the while, the world keeps turning and the good Lord keeps our feet on the ground and reminds us that though we always seem to forget, He has created us to be resilient creatures. We can weather any storm. I was blessed by that truth this morning, and grateful for the reminders both of my own resilience and of the sweetness of life.

So Afraid

I don't have to go to work or school or anything tomorrow because it's president's day. Though I am a good American who can appreciate whatever unique achievement there is to celebrate about each individual historic president, there's a part of me that wonders a bit why the somewhat ambiguous holiday of "president's day" warrants a national closure of everything from banks to schools and law firms on a somewhat arbitrarily placed day in mid February. Don't get me wrong, I love a three day weekend for any reason, so I'm not dwelling on the ambiguity of tomorrow for more than a couple of minutes, but am I supposed to like take a moment of silence for presidential appreciation tomorrow? Who knows, I probably won't, but it's kind of a nice thought...

Before you stop reading, I'm aware that this rambling first paragraph back from my blogging hiatus has surely made you wonder if I've lost my "way with words," let me explain myself a bit. I wrote the other day that I have been avoiding dealing with the mess of thoughts and questions and feelings going on in my little world and that a byproduct of my life-avoidance tactic has been not writing; something I want to change. Tonight I spent some good quality time with a family that has come to mean almost as much to me as my own family, eating dinner, drinking wine, laughing, holding the baby, and playing with the bigger-every-day kids. I got home around 10:45 and despite the fact that I've already had an incredibly relaxing weekend and have a long day of nothing but relaxation and the Bachelor ahead of me tomorrow, I was perfectly content to get ready for bed and hit the hay early. I got ready for bed, grabbed a book, lit a candle, and settled in knowing I'd probably not read more than a page because I'd likely be asleep in less than ten minutes. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw what I believe was probably satan himself in the form of a big black spider creeping along the bottom of my bed. MY BED. Trying not to wake my roommates but irrationally terrified of the menacing creature I stood up (on the mattress) flung all of the blankets in the air and silently screamed and prayed that he would disappear. I didn't see where he went, and haven't seen him since, but the experience was quite the adrenaline rush.

Needless to say I am now wide awake unable to turn off the lights or do much of anything, let alone sleep, knowing that he's lurking around here somewhere ready to crawl all over my face, inject me with poison, God knows what, the second I let down my guard and try to sleep. So, of course, I played a couple of rounds of Word Twist then thought to myself..."Self, you're avoiding. Why don't you take this spider-induced insomnia as an opportunity to write on your blog again." So here I am. And the first thing I thought of as I attempted to distract myself was president's day. But then that damned spider creeped back into my consciousness again. And I started to think about how genuinely scared I was, followed immediately by how dumb it is to be so scared, which led, then, to how scared I sometimes feel in life right now.

But the things I'm scared of never cease to amaze me. I'm a grown woman; independent, confident, capable. And even now, I sit perched on my bed this president's day eve on lookout for a spider? Jumping a little bit each time the stormy wind knocks the shutter against the window outside my room? And these things, I know, are little things. Easy things to be startled by, name, and then rationalize and get over relatively quickly. It's the other stuff. The big fat lose sleep at night take your breath away and cause you to cry without warning stuff that I'm afraid of that I really wish I could apply logic or even words to as well. Ideally I'd then be able to move forward equally unscathed. But this other stuff is so much more real. It's future stuff. It's job stuff and money stuff. Relationship stuff, love stuff, identity and how-I-do-life stuff that is scarier than any spider crawling across the foot of my bed. But it's also only masquerading as scary stuff. It's only scary because it's uncertain, unknown, undecided, untouchable. But these things I'm so afraid of are actually exciting things and good things and even though I can't touch them, God is holding every bit of my future firmly in His capable hands. It's the trusting thing that maybe I'm most scared of.

So here it is in this often-scary place that I will wait. I will wait and practice trusting, practice patience, and practice fearlessness. Starting with the small, more manageable things, I suppose, like going to sleep knowing that there is a big nasty spider on the loose and working my way up to handling the other, bigger stuff a little more gracefully.

Return to Me

I'm still alive.

Adam, I guess this one's for you. Your gentle nudging about how I spend too much time playing Word Twist apparently struck a nerve, because here I am attempting to get back into a rhythm of writing. PS update your own blog, hypocrite :) and also, I kind of need a break from Word Twist because Micah keeps kicking my ass and it's a repeated blow to my self esteem every time... For those of you who don't know, Word Twist is a highly addictive game that is played through facebook. Basically you compete against your friends, and, for points, you have two minutes to create as many words as you can with the 6 letters you have been given. I generally feel pretty smart when I play the game, except when I play against Micah. Then I always finish the round feeling like I'm just not quite as smart as he is, which is true, but still unnerving. I do, however, keep going back for more-in hopes that the next round will bring the satisfaction of taking down Jon and Micah and Becky with my vast knowledge of obscure three and four letter words. I digress.

Yes, Word Twist has been sucking up a lot of my time. So has school, commuting, cleaning my perpetually dusty house, keeping up with friends, and finding time to sleep and to feed, clothe, and bathe myself- while remaining up to date on the tv shows I follow. I've been amazingly busy keeping the schedule I'm currently keeping while still making an effort to hang out with friends that mean so much to me as if I don't basically live in Pasadena part time. Lest you believe I am complaining, I am not. I don't see how a thing on that list could possibly be shrunken down smaller than it already must be. Knowing this, I continue to make it work with as much joy as I can find in this beautiful albeit sometimes maddening life that I get to live, expending a significant amount of energy in just convincing myself that I don't need to do everything perfectly, so long as the things that matter and the things that have to get done do get done, on time and well.

You get it. I'm pretty busy. Very busy. So, Adam (and if there is anyone else kind enough to keep checking back to see if I will ever return to my beloved blog...) I could hide behind the excuse that I am just plain too busy to update my blog. It's partly true, so I wouldn't feel like I was totally lying. But honestly, there have been a lot of thoughts, big questions, fears, dreams, plans, and everything in between clouding my heart and mind. And when I am not totally focusing on school or work or a friend I become overwhelmed by the weight of these things. Instead of processing by talking or writing or even really praying about this stuff, I've been sleeping. And watching HGTV. Pretty much just avoiding.

I don't want to be an avoider. And I like writing. So, hopefully, I will add keeping my blog updated back to the list of things that fill my days.