How does love happen?

Today I've been thinking about love.

And how a person comes to love.

...and I'm not sure I know how it happens. That's not to say that I haven't loved. I have, and still do. Deeply. But how does it happen?

How do you get from thinking someone is attractive, to find someone interesting, to wanting to spend time with them, to wanting to spend all your time with them, to wanting what's best for them over what's best for you... Because that's the great paradox, isn't it? You start to love for yourself and somehow you end up in love for the other person. There is this confusing way in which you hope that you are the sick one, because it would be worse if it was your child. Where the old lady hopes that she dies first so that her husband doesn't have to learn to take care of himself. Where you do things you hate, because the other person will like it.

I think a lot of time I worry about making myself attractive. I am concerned about getting this mysterious other person interested in me, interested in spending time with me. Maybe that's because I think I'm easy to fall in love with if you get to know me...  But is that really true? I have hundreds of friends. Out of all those hundreds I know of one who fell in love with me. Ok, take out the girls and the members of my family and let's say that I've known a good 150 eligible guys. I think that number is kinda low, but just for argument's sake, go with it. 1 out of 150 is not good odds!  It's like needle in a haystack time. Yet every single day people fall in love. Somewhere out there someone is staring dreamily at someone and saying horrendously cheesy things that don't sound at all cheesy to them because they are in love.

How does that flippin' happen?

How does it go from- "I think you are hot" to "I want to pledge my whole life to you." I mean I think this is why Nathan and I were friends first. So that I could stumble into this caring. So that it could grow step by step, naturally. But how do you get someone to care about you? And where the heck is the line between caring for someone like a friend and caring for someone as more than a friend? That one I really don't know. Cause my closest friends... I really would do just about anything for them... and yet I don't feel about them the way I felt about Nathan.

And another question: How does it work if you aren't friends first? I mean that happens, I've seen it. Two people meet for the first time and then one or both of them just become totally taken with each other and that's it... And how do you know you are seeing the real person then? Twitterpated goggles can lie.

I've also been thinking about myself and how I come across to people. I've long said that I give a bad first impression... maybe it's because I only smile if I think something is funny, and not really when I'm nervous, but I don't know. I was talking with a friend the other day and they said, sorta off-handedly that I seem exclusive at first. How the heck does that happen... and how do you come across as non-exclusive... especially when you are shy and bad at small talk? I hate it when people get the wrong impression about me...  I swear for a person with such a deep desire to please people, I also have a heck of a lot of pride.

A Special Blog Post

Today, I'm writing an early blog-- and I probably won't be blogging later tonight. Prepare yourself. Today is a hard day. I'm trying not to think about it, but if I'm slightly hermit-like, please forgive me. Tears are close to the surface today, and I don't have energy for  putting on a happy face. I don't have energy for much of anything but running to comfort, today.

That said I'm blogging about something that's very important and special to me. The incredible people who have come into my life in big and small ways over these past 2 years. Last week I wrote a letter and mailed it to three places. Siteman Cancer Center at Barnes, the Oncology-hematology offices at Hulston Cancer Center, and 5 West at Cox South. I'm *so* grateful that if I had to go through this horrendous experience, I can at least say that I was blessed with amazing knowledgeable people to help me through it.

So I just want to share the letter that I wrote with all of you:

September 28 is not my favorite of days. It was not so bad last year because we had a “1 Year of Kicking Cancer in the Face” party. You see, September 28, 2009 is the day that gave us the news that my husband, Nathan Dunn, had Acute Myeloid Leukemia. He was 24, and I’d just turned 26 the month before. We’d been married a little over 2 years and had just been starting to think about having children and our plans for the future- plans that were instantly derailed at 8:00 that Monday evening. But as heart wrenching a moment as it was- discovering in one fell blow that you are not, in fact as invincible as your youth would lead you to believe- it was also the moment that brought into our lives some of the most incredible people I’ve had the privilege of meeting. It’s now two years later and on September 29th it will be 8 months since we lost Nathan to complications due to the treatment of his AML. He wasn’t quite 26 yet. The journey was long, difficult, painful and basically the only type of rollercoaster that I revile. But I had the most incredible team come alongside of me when it happened and I don’t know how we would have done it without them.

I’m convinced that there is a special type of crown in heaven for the medical caretakers of cancer patients. It’s a sad truth that the people you see the most are the people who are doing the worst and there is so very much unpleasantness that is brought on by cancer, radiation, and chemotherapy- both in people’s bodies and in their attitudes. I have no idea how you deal with it all, and still treat every patient with such kindness and respect. A lot of people take out their bad days on you, but you can’t take your bad days out on any of them. I would just like to let you know that you make a difference. You make such a difference. I took care of my husband for 16 months, and from that time I know that I could never do what you do, yet there you are, day after day, night after night, caring for and about dozens, sometimes even hundreds, of people who are as sick as can be. I hate the circumstances in which I met you, but I’m very glad to have gotten the chance to meet you. 

In particular: Dr. Robert Ellis, I will always be grateful for the compassion with which you broke the news to us and so glad that we didn’t “shoot the messenger.” We always felt like you were seeing, not just Nathan, the AML patient, but Nathan the person. Thank you for never making us feel rushed even though you are very busy, and for always taking the time to make sure we understood what was happening, what the plan was, and why. I also enjoy your sense of humor and will not forget the time that we came into the hospital for a maintenance round of chemo and you saw me in the hall later and asked how things were going. When I told you he was already finished with his first round you exclaimed, “Well… Well… Shiver me timbers! That’s about the fastest I’ve ever heard!” I’ve never been so delighted to hear pirate speak in my life.

The other Oncology-Hematology physicians, and staff at the Hulston Cancer Center: My interactions with you were fewer, as I often had to work during the day, but we never ran into a doctor, nurse, or tech who was anything less than kind and many of you knew Nathan on sight and greeted him even if you were not the one taking care of him that day. There were times when it felt like I was married to a rock star celebrity rather than a cancer patient. Of course I thought Nathan was special, but it touches me that you all seemed to think it as well.

5 West Nurses, PCAs, and staff: Every single one of you is worth your weight in platinum. Gold isn’t even good enough. You all became like an extended family to Nathan and me, and to this day you encourage me and care about me. You’ve cried with me, you cared for my dear husband and took care of me as well. I will never be able to say thank you loud enough or long enough to convey how important and amazing I think you are.

Dr. Keith Stockerl-Goldstein, Rebecca Thompson, and all the other Barnes/Wash U. staff in the BMT/Leukemia division of Siteman: We met you later in the game, and you saw the best and worst of Nathan. You saw him with his ready smile even when dealing with terrible pain and sickness and you saw his stubborn pride when things started getting really hard at the end. Dr. Goldstein- It was easy to forget you didn’t live at the hospital; you were there so often. I think we saw you every day for 2 and a half weeks once. That kind of dedication is inspiring and touching. Rebecca- You cared about Nathan, and it was really evident. You went to bat for us with insurance and prescriptions, you called us to check up when Nathan was in the hospital in Springfield, you told me what to do when I was so panicked that even the most obvious of choices were unclear to me, and you went out of your way to visit Nathan several times during his last week in the ICU (and I saw the tears that you tried to hide.) At some point it felt like it became more than just your job, and that still means so much to me.

If it is a war against cancer, then in one way or another Nathan and I were taken off of active duty. But you are all still out there in the trenches, fighting the good fight, saving as many lives as you can and enriching the lives of those you can’t with your kindness, your thoughtfulness, your patience and the small bit of your heart that you invest in all of us touched by the horrible disease. I’m honored to have served beside you in my small little way. Shortly after Nathan’s death I got a card from a group of people, and someone had anonymously written. “F@*k it. In my eyes, he won.” That’s how I feel. Cancer doesn’t win, even if people die. I think the human spirit is greater than that, and I think each and every one of you is proof. I would sometimes be asked if I was a nurse because I picked up on medical jargon so quickly. My response was always, “No, I’m not a nurse. I just pay a lot of attention, cause I think he’s pretty important.” I learned about one type of cancer because I thought my husband was special. You learned about cancer because you thought he was, too. You thought he was and you think that every other husband, wife, mother, father, child is as well. And for that I cannot thank you enough. But I at least want you to hear it today.

Thank you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

On September 28th my goal is not to focus on what cancer has taken away from me, but on all of you and the profound impact you have made on my life.

Thank you.

Happy Kick Cancer in the Face Day.

Hug your loved ones for me today.

Renée

Rant

So the collision center left a message to let me know that my car is done...  Thanks, dude, I picked it up on Friday. Kinda makes me think I should go out there and try and pick up my car again. Anyone want an extra Pruis?

Anyway, on to the real reason why I blog tonight:

I'm irritated. Irritated with stories that obviously aren't true and are just made up to manipulate emotions. I'm irritated that these stories don't get facts even close to possible. I mean I know that "Christmas Shoes" is just a bunch of schmaltz but I saw a story today posted on facebook that took "Christmas Shoes" and added a little sister who also died, a drunk driving accident, and a newspaper which is apparently allowed to publish facts like that a family has to decide whether or not to take someone off life support. I mean the original story is just this side of likely. But adding all the other things in there to manipulate emotions... it's really wrong. It's like a Jr. High kid trying to manipulate adults. Really transparent and rather offensive... especially because after all the bs of this made up story, this was the final line.

"Now you have 2 choices: (1) Copy & Paste this on your wall (2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart."

I would like to add a third option. Blog about it as though it totally ticked you off and you can't believe that someone would try and use death as a manipulation device.

It might be that I'm so mad because I try so hard to not use death as a manipulation tool. I go out of my way to avoid bringing it up. I go out of my way to joke about it to make people more comfortable. I go out of my way to be cool when people make off-handed comments that hurt, because they weren't thinking. I try so hard to not freak people out and to be normal-acting, even when on the inside I'm hurting so very badly. Because using grief to manipulate people, cheapens it. It cheapens my relationship, it cheapens my love, it cheapens everything about this terrible experience that I'm trying to survive. I ask for what I need, not what I want. If I asked for what I wanted I'd be using Nathan's death and I'm not ok with that. I'm barely ok with asking for what I need, lest someone think that it's just something that I want.

It's just... not ok.

I'm a hit. Not the public. I tell television what to play, yo

Do you ever go to urban dictionary and look up your name? It's kinda amusing.

Renée

A French name meaning "rebirth". Renee is of the most amazing people you will ever meet. She's random and weird, and most likely somewhat insecure, in addition to being outspoken, fiercely loyal to her friends, very sexual, very beautiful inside and out, open minded, mean at times, dedicated to music, and impulsive. She can be a hypocrite, but often owns up to it rather than denying it. She may not always use her head and tends to make excuses for the people she cares about. ex: Jeff: Who's the hot girl over there who's rambling about garlic bread's role in government conspiracies? Tom: Oh, that's Renée. She's pretty weird, but she's really cool.

At long last, someone who has heard about how garlic bread is responsible for faking the moon landing!

Also amusing? Looking up search terms that lead to my blog. For instance: "girls who look like violet" and "it was a boy and a girl and became rainbow" or the classic search phrase: "i'm a hit. not the public. i tell television what to play, yo." Believe it or not that particular phrase had 2 hits... that means someone searched it twice... or they forgot that they clicked on the link to my blog once and clicked the link again. I somehow think that one of those scenarios is more likely.

I mean I can't even remember how many times have I searched that phrase, you know?

I've been reading more people's blogs, lately... I've been caring about people other than myself. I kinda feel like I'm coming out of something- some phase of grief-- like I'm engaging in life a little bit more... Of course, to go along with that, my brain is letting me feel a little bit more than it did, so the tears and feelings of loneliness have been more... I've been by myself a lot more than I used to let myself be. But the hurt feels like healing, you know? That sore-ness that means your body is getting exercise and stretching it's muscles out? It hurts, but... it's good, too.

I think half the time I get through by thinking it was all just a lovely dream. Someone couldn't have loved me that much. Because if it was real it would still be here. And sometimes I'm caught off guard by the realization that it was real. Those eyes were here. That laugh was mine. That goofy playful grin that he got when we just started repeating the same things over and over... that was for me.

It's completely selfish, but I wish that God could have chosen someone else to be a good example.

Frank O'Hara and Horatio

Watched a movie tonight: Beastly. It's the Beauty and the Beast story hit with a modern re-telling. I say "hit" meaning hit over the head with a blunt object- Professor Plum in the Study with the Lead Pipe, possibly- but I still liked it. In no small part due to the poem which I'd never heard of, because I somehow missed the poet in my poetry classes, or was never taught of him. Frank O’Hara.

Having a Coke with You

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles 

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them 

I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully
as the horse 

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

And here is another:

My Heart 

I'm not going to cry all the time
nor shall I laugh all the time,
I don't prefer one "strain" to another.
I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie,
not just a sleeper, but also the big,
overproduced first-run kind. I want to be
at least as alive as the vulgar. And if
some aficionado of my mess says "That's
not like Frank!", all to the good! I
don't wear brown and grey suits all the time,
do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera,
often. I want my feet to be bare,
I want my face to be shaven, and my heart--
you can't plan on the heart, but
the better part of it, my poetry, is open. 

Another one that I like is Morning, but it's long enough that I'm not going to paste it here... but here is a link to read it yourself.

Oh poetry, I still love you, despite your general inaccessibility and tendency towards the obtuse.

There is such a strange and difficult dichotomy between expecting God to intervene and at the same time laying what you want down at His feet and letting Him choose what to do with it.

to quote another poet... Horatio Spafford,

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul. 

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul! 

It is well ... with my soul!
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Now that one I get.

Good for the soul

Short blog because I stayed up late into the night talking to a friend. My absolute favorite kind of nights. But it got so late that she's crashing on my couch, now.

Sometimes I do think I look like Snow White... only a modern day Snow White. Ooooh good book idea?

I'm wearing a new dress to church tomorrow. And heels... and quite possibly tights. Prepare yourself for the cute-ness.

I'm going to be able to see my family next weekend. I'm excited about it.

I learned today that post-traumatic stress moments still hit me... and they still pack a punch when they do.

I should have been writing this weekend for class. I didn't. Maybe tomorrow?

Really really good evening. *really* Imma be tired tomorrow morning, though.

And so I think I need to say goodnight to you.

but not before I say that I think everyone should have conversations where they stay up so late it wouldn't really be safe to drive home.

It's good for the soul.

Especially the lonely soul.

Where the wild things blog

I got my car back today!! Everyone at the collision center was *much* friendlier than they were on Monday morning. People get grumbly on Mondays. All the damage was cosmetic- no internal damage, and because it was repaired at the dealership there is a warranty on it. It's ridiculous how excited I was to see it... and how glad I am that it no longer makes that horrible popping noise when I open the door. It felt like an old friend had come back to me. I talked to it when I got inside it, like it was a child. I introduced it to my new tights. No, I seriously did.

I swear I don't need psychological help... but if you don't believe me, no need to worry, one of my good friends is a counselor so she'd tell me if I did... and least I think she would.

I also spent a good deal of the day looking for some cute, black, closed-toe, medium height heels. I went to 7 different stores before I found some. 7 stores!?! Ach. It was ridiculous. *everything* is peep toe right now.... or 10 inches tall and glittery. Don't get me wrong, I love peep toe shoes, but they aren't super awesome with tights, and I might have mentioned my love of tights lately??

I should have spent at least some of today cleaning my place. I live in the city, not the country. Someone could stop by my house at any moment, and what wreck they would find!

Unfortunately all my greatest cleaning binges hit me at 3:30 in the morning. I'm kinda like a meth addict that way... but unlike the meth addict my response to these urges are something akin to: It's too late to clean, I might wake someone up... I think I'll go sleep instead.

I think I'll go to sleep and make mischief of one kind

or another.

Good night, moon.

Yes, that writing for children and YA class is rubbing off on me, in a big way.

All I can think about is you

Nathan Dunn to me

6/23/10

Hey, sweetheart -
I don't know if you're asleep or working on the cake topper, both of which are important. I just want you to know I love you, and I miss you.
Sorry I didn't call earlier; I was totally exhausted and just slept, ate, and slept some more. Now I can't do either, and all I can think about is you. You always make everything better just by being around, and you aren't around now, and I really miss you. :(
Things are really alright. It's just my normal aches and things. You don't need to worry or feel bad, 'cause it's just for tonight then I'll be back home with you where I belong. Until then, I'll just miss you. And, of course, love you. <3
// Nathan

Renee Dunn to Nathan

6/23/10

I sent you pictures of the completed topper... I hope you come home tomorrow... so you can see it yourself! I miss you, too, so much!!!! ... I kept trying to text you or skype you or anything all night and you didn't answer. I hope that means you are asleep and not just that the hospital signal service sucks. Cause then I'd have to give that hospital a piece of my mind. *shakes fist* I'm so glad your mom had some pj pants in the car for you! I was most worried about that. Anyway, it's 4 AM and I should go to our lonely bed... :( I'm glad your blood sugar is coming back down fast. Come home to me!

Also your mom likened you to a lamb and a hog tonight... one was about eating and the other about sleeping. I'll let you guess which was which.

Also I think they are jerks for not letting you eat but making you take meds that make you hungry. Jerks Jerks Jerks... and did we learn anything about the oil?

OK 4:09 and I can hear you scolding me, so I'm going, I'm going. But I wanted to let you know that I love you soooooooooooooooooooooooo much... and I miss you so much. and I think you are the bestest husband a girl could have.

Love you,
Renée  (Yeah I just misspelled my name 5 times... it's time to sleep)

Impulse control and scandalousness

I almost just made this my facebook status:

Last July I sent an e-mail to Nathan, entitled, "this can't be my facebook status :(" I think the proof of how much I've changed is in the fact that I don't mind sharing it now because I think it's hilarious: "I just took a drink of water and spilled it all down my front... but through the miracle of breasts and a bra, my shirt didn't get even a drop on it.
Just thought you should know."

Though it's still scandalous enough that I considered hiding it from my mothers.

Hi, mothers.

I didn't actually make it my facebook status, because... well it's kinda scandalous... (Hey if you can't say scandalous things on your blog, what good is a blog?) And while there is something within me that craves being scandalous there is something else that is afraid of people getting upset by my scandalous-ness. Thus why I have hair extensions in every color of the rainbow except yellow. (Darn you, yellow! Where are you?!) but no actual colored bits of hair. (Well, that and the maintenance of that hair seems like it would be hard.) Thus why I have a tattoo design and placement picked out that I love, but no actual tattoo. Thus why I didn't post this as my facebook status when it originally happened.

I've discovered in this process of figuring out who I am again that impulse control is something I'm having to relearn. Through cancer, especially the last months of it there was no impulsive-ness. Everything except medical emergencies was planned and anything unplanned sent us into tailspins. The spontaneous was completely quashed.

After Nathan's death it's been the opposite. I've been trying to embrace everything as it comes. Make a decision, put it into action. Now. Don't plan- do. If it makes you laugh it's gold. If it makes you feel alive, it's wonderful. Buy that macbook, sign up for the classes, drive to the church to get your phone and then decide to go downtown to a party on the spur of the moment. And heaven help the cute pair of tights that come across my path.

There have been some notable exceptions. I didn't go skydiving, because Kara and Rhonda told me that I was talking crazy talk. I haven't gotten a tattoo, cause Rhonda told me I should wait for the year mark to make sure I still wanted to. I didn't go to Starbucks today even though I really wanted to.

But I certainly haven't found an equilibrium at all, and I'm not sure how to re-learn something that used to be instinctive. I didn't used to have to focus on self-control and doing things that I didn't really want to and not doing things that I did.

I don't want to go back to the way that I was... Honestly, I was pretty repressed. But I don't want to lose all that I had, either. And I *never* want to think that Nathan wouldn't like the person who I am now. So I guess now I have to find a new place to balance. I know I'll find a way eventually. In the meantime, though, just promise me that you will laugh at my crazy antics and not judge me for them. I just don't know who I am anymore.

Cancer is bad for so many things!

Omg why am I so tired? It's only 2 AM.

ahahahahaha. To anyone else that would be a ridiculous statement- to me it's just a normal fact of life.

Today I wrote and mailed some letters. I will tell you more about them next week. For now, suffice it to say that they were good letters and to some very special people whom I had no clue existed just 2 years ago.

Sometimes the days when you laugh the hardest it's because you are hurting the most and you need the almost-manic adrenaline rush of incessant giggling to get you through.

I'm not good with goodbyes. Not at all. I avoid them as if they are the plague... I avoid even the mention of them and only realize what I did 5 hours later.... I miss the fact that Nathan would have noticed, known what I was doing, and told me about it right away. He helped me to be a better person, and now I'm developing weird personality quirks that he didn't know about and I have no one to tell me I'm developing weird personality quirks.

What's a gal to do?

So my cousin called me today and left a message and this is what he said, "Hey! It's Budd... your cousin. I mean, of course it is. Who else is named Budd?"

I laughed quite a bit.

I love my cousins. Every single bloomin' one of them.

and not just because they have access to the most magical of all knit wear

The. beard. hat.

I think that might be the only beard I've ever loved.

Also I looked into joining the "blogher" network. If you know anything evil about them you should let me know, now. Because I don't really see how it could be a bad thing and I've seen several reputable blogs belong to blogher... might be a way to get my blog out to more than just my wonderful friends who are starting to go about their everyday lives again and no longer hang on my every word.

Fools, the lot of them.

And hey, if you are the praying type, could you send one up for dear Kara? She done had a beautiful incredibly darling baby boy who I like to think got to meet Nathan before coming on down here to be named after him. And who has yet to cry either time that I got to hold him, and who finds my voice so normal/soothing that it doesn't wake him up, even when his mom is *trying* to get him to wake up. Sorry distracted... Pray for Kara cause she's been having some infections. Everything right now is ok, just painful, and after having a baby without any drugs, I think that homegirl has probably had enough excessive pain for a while. Plus, obviously it needs to clear up before it does become serious. This whole having babies thing is fraught with so much more peril than I knew!

I think I need to go to the dentist, and I'm dreading it... Cancer was not good for my teeth.

Fo' Drizzle

"Once you choose hope, anything's possible." -Christopher Reeve

Found this quote today. I like it... a lot.

Stumbled upon a site for widows/young widows. Been looking through it today/tonight. It's that kind of a day, apparently....

I told you all, that I'm working through Dawson's Creek. I'm on Season 4... and in the midst of a beloved character's funeral. I've been avoiding it for a few days now. To watch someone mourn on a tv show... it's strange... and comforting... and strange.

I mean I'm glad to know I'm not alone, but at the same time, no one is like me... there is always something that's different... There's always a way in which we aren't the same. My grief is both the same and profoundly different from everyone else's.

Here's a Dawson's Creek quote.

"You know, every night for 46 years, I prayed the Good Lord would take me first. I never wanted to go on without him. I didn't think I was capable of it. But somehow, I was. It wasn't easy, but inevitably there comes a day that isn't as bad as the one before it."

I thought I would have to move back home to Memphis... I thought it was the only way I'd be able to deal. You just never know till you're in it.

People have started to talk to me about Nathan's death. Telling me what happened with them when he died. Telling me about times when they are surprised by his death again. Trying to somehow bring me into their lives and how it connects with mine. It's nice... but I don't know what to say or how to respond. Usually I say, "Yeah...."

I'm exceedingly eloquent.

But in other news my hair is a smashing success.

I believe this is what they like to call winning some and losing some. You know, in the biz.

... in the bizzle.

Hey Lissa, Why does Snoop Dogg need an umbrella?

Getting used to not-a-Prius

1) Acceleration. I don't recall thinking that my hybrid didn't accelerate quickly... but I get into the rental car and drive and when I push the gas from a full stop I bout give myself whiplash.

2) Locking and unlocking my doors. I keep putting the key in my pocket when I need it to do things with.

3) Which brings me to the key. How do you see where to put the key in the dark again?

4) Putting the car in park. I just push power in the Prius and it automatically puts it in park... I spent like 5 minutes at Wal-mart trying to figure out why I couldn't get the key out of the ignition even though the car was off... luckily the Prius has also trained me to not take my foot of the brake until I'm ready to exit the vehicle. Smart, Prius-designer-person, smart.

5) Whatever it's called when you take your foot off the brake but don't hit the gas... inching forward? the Prius doesn't really do it much... other cars do.

6) How short my arms are. Seriously? Do all car doors open this far?? How do you people reach the door without getting out, closing it halfway, and getting back in? Are you Inspector Gadget or Stretch Armstrong?

7) 26 mpg is good.

8) How the heck does anyone find a gold Corolla in a parking lot?? It looks like every car in the world.

9) Wait, there is a trunk? I can carry anything I want to in it and no one will know? Dude, you could totally transport dead bodies in the back of this thing.

10) Dang... it never gets quieter.... it's loud when I accelerate, but it's still loud when I'm sitting at a stoplight.

11) I've been spoiled.

Thoughts

I need to write for my class, but I don't have much motivation. I think I just need to sit down and go, and who cares if it doesn't make sense...figuring out a plot is just so daunting.

I have to be up early tomorrow to take in my car. Then I'll be rollin' in a rental. But at least my car will be getting fixed and I won't have to be sad every time I have to open my door.

At church today someone said I had "a Snow White thing going on." Now accepting Prince Charming applications.

Then I was talking to a friend at church and a girl who was standing nearby and I've never spoken to before says outta nowhere, "You're very pretty." I looked at her with surprise and said thank you. And then she said, "I have no idea where that came from, but..." And my friend said, "Well, it never hurts to hear!" and I said, "It's true, I'm not sad you said it."

Kinda felt like a follow-up from the conference last week when someone told me that God wanted me to know I'm beautiful, inside and out. Even if it wasn't, it felt good.

I've decided that I'm attracted to talent in the arts. If I think a guy is talented then my interest-meter shoots up... and if he can express himself in writing. Be still my heart. So perhaps I'd better off accepting Scribe Charming applications?

Today I rocked out tights with boots... I think I need to go shopping or find some skirt patterns because I am really digging the tights lately, only I don't have enough skirts to wear with them.... and I also need some closed toe heels. I might start classing it up to go to the office. I mean it's wonderful that I can wear jeans every day to work and it doesn't matter... but I don't have enough places to go and I have all these fun clothes to wear...

I engage in a lot more retail therapy without Nathan here to tell me no.

Cold sores= the suck. Abreeva= the awesome.

You know what I want? I want to hear someone's story. I want to hear about someone's family traditions. I want to hear about crazy things they did as a child. I want to get to know someone. I want to be immersed in someone else's culture with all the ways it's different from mine, and yet somehow eerily similar. Maybe I want to be in a show... or maybe I want to write a show... or at least a one-act/reader's theatre.

Hello from 4 AM.

I think I might nap in the late afternoon/early evening because that's the loneliest time of day for me. In the morning it's just about getting to work, and at 1or two in the morning it's a lot easier to be up because I'm staying up. But from 5-7 I'm just remembering that I haven't seen anyone today and that I have no one to make dinner plans with and that the world has pretty well moved on with their lives. Seems like a better plan to just sleep through that. Why not sleep when there is no reason to be awake? Especially when one naturally will stay awake till 2 without a nap.

Can you tell I'm missing him a lot today? I realized how much he would have loved my hair... He always had a thing for Violet from The Incredibles. 

See the resemblance? Well, even if you don't, I do, and I know Nathan would have loved it. And not just because he liked any hair style that I did.

The roller coaster ride is evening out. The lows don't get so low, and I think that I'm becoming less manic about making sure I have something to fill every second... But I don't think the missing will ever go away. I've started to not know if I did something before or after Nathan's death... and I really hate it. I can't remember if I watched a certain TV show with him or by myself. I can't remember if I talked to him about this certain thing or not. I miss hearing his opinions, his thoughts, his plans. I hate so much the loss of Nathan's potential in this world... He had so much more he could have done... so much more he wanted to do.

I wish the grieving process was something definable. I wish I could pass a mark or do something and be able to check it off a list. I wish it wasn't just a set of ever lengthening milestones that I'll never come to the end of.... I wish I didn't identify so much with this song.

Something tells me I should be sleeping through 4 AM, too.

In which I allude to great works of literature and film

So I figured out how to give my sidebar gadgets over there ---> a background so they can actually be read. It took all of 3 seconds to search for it and fill the solution someone else gave into the code. But I still consider it to be impressive, just not in a ridiculously awesome way.

Also I changed my hair in a way that I would classify as drastic, though I'm unsure as to whether others would as well... though I saw two guys tonight that I see at least once a week or so and they both noticed without prompting, so maybe it is drastic. Either way I'm tremendously thrilled with the results.

What do the results look like?? Well, let me show you.

If you are my friend on facebook you've seen this one. Here's why- Dark brunette hair is magic. No, for real. I've often lamented that I can't get a picture of myself that I like unless I take like 100 pictures, right? Well that right there, which I think is a great picture of me, was the second picture I took. (In the first one I was smirking too much so it looked questionable as to whether I liked my hair, but I still looked good in it.) And the third picture I took is up on Facebook, too. That's 3 pictures and I think they all look great. Either that or dark hair lets in the body snatchers who take good pictures and are apparently very quiet body-tenants... which rather belies the use of the word "snatch."

I got to hang out with people till 1:30 AM... so I'm just now getting tired at 3.

What's that you say? You are perfectly content with a blog post that's nearly exclusively about my hair?!

Awesome! Thanks! I thank you, my sleep schedule thanks you, my British GPS thanks you, the German judge thanks you, the monster at the end of this blog thanks you.

Wait, there is a monster at the end of this blog?  Whatever you do, you must keep reading! If you never quit reading then this blog will never have an end, and the monster won't get me. So just keep reading, just keep reading what do we do? We read, read.

Love you forever,
P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney

If anything worthy of praise

Wednesday evening I was sitting with some friends at game night, just talking/ chat packing, when another friend came in. She'd had a rough day and was not in the best of moods. After a while of her mentioning her bad day the cat went up and licked her toes and she giggled, and someone said (It might have been me- I don't really remember.) "See, the day isn't all bad!"

She frowned and said, that no, it was still a bad day and I told her that she needed to focus on the positive. She then said, "I can't really see any positive."

And suddenly I was impassioned. I said, "Did you kill anyone today?"

She said no.

I said, "No one died.... er... Did anyone you care about die today?" (How sad is it that I had to edit myself because the possibility of a loved one's death is so real to me?)

She said no.

And I said, "Well there are two huge positives. You didn't kill anyone and all of your loved ones are still with you."

And then I realized I was kinda being a jerk and stopped talking, and another friend said I was a motivational speaker.

I'm such a hypocrite sometimes. I complain all the time. I mean you all know that, because I post it on the internet for everyone to read. My friend was just complaining and then I forced my perspective down her throat. Not so cool, Renée... It's a good thing I still get some widow-grace. (I sent her an apology this morning.) But I just couldn't handle someone saying that they couldn't see anything positive to focus on. There has to be something... I mean it may be a small thing but if you don't choose something positive to focus on and choose to dwell on the negative for very long... It's a horrible slippery slope that ends in tears, depression, and sickness in your spirit.

So this morning I woke up a lot earlier than I wanted to and drove to the mechanic/dealership and tried not to say too obviously or too often, "It wasn't my fault!" And they were all very nice to me. I saw four men standing around a coffee maker trying to figure it out and I was highly amused... and then one of the men looked up at me and saw how amused I was and looked around and returned my amusement... and then he took 3 large steps back and said, "How many guys does it take to figure out a coffee maker?" So we had our own little public joke. And then the rental car man was very nice to me as well, and he's going to call insurance and talk to them and have me set up so that Monday morning when I bring my car in I will have a rental to drive around for the 7-10 days that it's going to take to fix my car. (7-10 days! Diggity dang!) And then I left and got an extremely well made and tasty Venti coffee. (Aside: Starbucks on Sunshine near Campbell= best Springfield Starbucks? votes?)

And all this morning what kept running through my head is this: "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things." I think the way that I confronted my friend last night wasn't right, but what I was trying to say... that was right. But I think perhaps Paul says it better than I.

      4Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! 5Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. 6Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
      8Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. 9The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.
      10But I rejoiced in the Lord greatly, that now at last you have revived your concern for me; indeed, you were concerned before, but you lacked opportunity. 11Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. 12I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. 13I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.  Philippians 4:4-13

 So I choose today to dwell on perfectly made coffee, unspoken camaraderie, nice mechanics, insurance, positive peer reviews, guys who wear newsie caps (otherwise known as old man golfing hats), and this absolutely adorable couple.  (I know I posted it on Facebook, but they are just so cute!)

I hate car accidents, they make me get up early.

I have an early morning, tomorrow, because I have to take my car to the collision center so they can check it out and order parts, so that I can (hopefully) take it in on Monday and they can fix it. Insurance agrees that it's the other girl's fault. I'm glad... though I wish this hadn't happened. Well, obviously. It's just annoying and sad. I'm getting Starbucks tomorrow morning to make my day a little brighter. I may even get the biggun'

My door pops when I open it and I wince and groan at it every single time I open up my door. I don't want to drive it anywhere... Basically all the things I did when I first got the car I now do in reverse. Oh Car why you so sad?

I read my picture book in class yesterday kind of impromptu-ly because we only had a few minutes and so the review had to be split, and everyone else's stories were too long to be read in 7 minutes. After I read it, I thought of a million things I wanted to alter about it, but you can't talk during the peer review. So I can't tell everyone that I've now noticed that it's not clear at first that they are talking about a little boy, or that I didn't mean to say moment in such quick succession and I'm cutting that out. Plus I've had to wait 2 days to hear what people have to say about it... and that's just nerve-wracking.

Oh peer review... I don't know how I can be so excited by you and so nervous about you at the same time.... oh wait, yes I do. I'm an extrovert and I want everyone to love me. Well that's solved.

Ok, enough chit chat.. have to be about quite early for me, so I must away to bed. Have a lovely bloomin' day!

Pride, Prejudice, & Great Expectations

Tonight I watched a movie/British mini-series called "Lost in Austen." Basically a girl goes through a door and into Pride and Prejudice (Elizabeth Bennet switches time/places with her), the girl proceeds to makes a right mess of everything and then has to fix it all up again.

What is it about Mr. Darcy? How can he be so insufferable and yet we still love him? He's such a jerk, but in the end, he's standing there, just hoping to be loved, and he steals away our hearts... that and he uses phrases like "ardently admire and love you."

I wish to be told how ardently I'm admired and loved.... or if not told, to at least know how ardently I'm admired and loved.

I have really high expectations but no earthly idea of how they will be fulfilled. I don't expect some guy to be perfect, but I expect him to be my version of Mr. Darcy. It's a strange juxtaposition.  Sometimes guys get angry when girls swoon over Mr. Darcy because they think they are being held to this fictional standard. But honestly, Darcy is a bit of an... well.. it rhymes with brass. Most guys who would get mad at the comparison would also come out ahead in the competition...

There is something in my head about expectations, though I'm not sure what it is, so I will just start typing and perhaps it will out.

There are all these qualities in my head that the right guy should and shouldn't have.  Christian, smart, funny, handy, articulate, generous, kind, handsome, dark hair, light eyes, beardless, wants children, some kind of artistic leanings, doesn't smoke, drink, cuss or scowl, slow tempered, self-assured, quick to smile, willing to play along with my goofiness, holds open doors, packs vehicles well, helps elderly ladies across the street... the list could go on and on and on...  But the thing is... the perfect guy for me isn't going to have all those things. Heavens knows Nathan didn't. The perfect guy for me is the one who makes me not care about the list... In the end that's what it comes down to. Do we resonate? Do we understand each other? Do we click on some level that's not even tangible? Because if we do, I won't care if his hair is blonde or he can't drive a nail to save his life or if he's as stubborn as a barrel of mules. Who he is will throw my expectations aside, and I'll discover all these other fabulous little things about him that I never would have thought to put on a list of desired characteristics, but I've discovered are completely swoon-worthy. And he'll have flaws that will probably drive me up a wall on a regular basis, but I expect those too. I couldn't live up to a perfect man, being as I'm imperfect, myself.

 I have this man in my head. He's taken up residence in my heart. I don't know what he looks like or his gestures or his smile, yet I know him. I have these expectations and I just can't wait to see how he meets them and exceeds them and is greater than any construct that only lives in my mind could be, because he's *real.* And for my part I will love him and care for him and do my very best to make him the happiest man to grace this Earth.

I'm not looking for a perfect man... I'm looking for a man who is perfect for me... and the reason why I like Mr. Darcy is that Mr. Darcy reminds me of him. Heck the reason why I like every guy is that they remind me of him. And that shouldn't be scary... that should be comforting, because while it's a lot to live up to... it's also nothing to live up to.

Friendship

Have I talked about how strange it is that most of my closest friends are introverts? Even Nathan was, though he was good at putting on an extrovert mask. It's weird cause introverts are in the minority, yet I can think of 7 or 8 close friends who are introverts and 2 who are extroverts... them's some pretty stacked numbers!

I guess I just like a challenge when it comes to making friends? Or (closer to the truth) I like to be special and to be in people's elite circle, and extroverts' elite circles aren't very elite... or very circley cause they try and cram so many people into them that they turn more oblong shaped.

Why is that I crave being special so very much? Cause I do. It's like a drug for me or something. I think more than people's approval I seek the acknowledgment that I'm special... I mean I want to be thought of as special in a good way but... If all they think of me is that I'm different from most... well I'm ok with that too.

Here's something interesting/strange...This weekend someone said to me at the conference, "I don't get to help you through this at home." That phrase, simple as it might be, shocked me. "I don't get to." It never occurred to me that someone would want to help me through this. I mean, yes, obviously people want to help me through it... but that someone would see it not as a burden or responsibility to help me through this time, but as a privilege... Whoa. Talk about the love of Christ.

I think that people should be my friend.. It's only logical. I take care of my friends, and I'm relatively funny and generous, and I just really try to be a good friend and take their perspective on things and assume the best and be low-maintenance and low-drama. But that someone could want to help me when I'm not a good friend. When being my friend isn't easy. When being my friend is actually really challenging and heavy and hard. Before I've been a good friend to them. Before I've built up the relationship points with them that they have to submit to my "friend test." This is kinda mind-boggling. Not because people are inherently selfish or anything, but because I would never ever presume to ask someone who wasn't already my good friend to help me. Because I see this as hard and not something someone would want to pick up.... Because I work really hard to make being my friend the logical choice, but somewhere deep down I still think it's so hard that people wouldn't if they really knew what they were getting themselves into.

There's a self realization that only came as I typed it. That's why I ask for reassurance from my friends. That's where some of those trust issues come from. Because somewhere deep down I don't think people would be my friend if they really knew what they were getting themselves into.

There's no confidence like false confidence.

Duck and run

Did I mention the professor of my writing class was in a creative writing class with Orson Scott Card and read/critiqued Ender's Game when it was a short story? Holy Crap! She just dropped that little nugget as an aside while talking about something else. Half of the class was looking at her with eyes of wonder and half of the class with eyes of wondering who "that Card author" was.

I got my picture book down to 798 words. Assignment was 600-800. It started out around 1300. I consider myself to be a rockstar.

On my father's side of the family there are 23 first cousins (plus 3 spouses and 4 children of cousins.) We are- in total- 49 (If we hadn't lost Nathan it would have been 50.) When can you be considered a clan??

Do you know that someday I could live on a street named Rainbow Drive? This only occurred to me this weekend. Isn't it a lovely thought, though?

You know the passage in Romans where Paul says he does the things he doesn't want to do and doesn't do the things he wants to? Am I the only person who feels like that even in not-important-and-not-at-all-spiritual situations? I want to exercise, I don't. I don't want to stay up too late, I do. Even in smaller matters. I want to talk to someone at a party. I don't. I don't want to ask for reassurances but I do. Over and over this happens to me. Is it just the human condition? Or is it something more/less than that?

I hate goodbyes now. Especially semi-permanent goodbyes. I end up avoiding them and then feeling like I missed something important... but the hugs are never long enough and the words never say enough and the bitter out weighs the sweet and not in a chocolate chip kind of way. Maybe its a fear of goodbye, or maybe it's just that a goodbye can never be everything that you want it to be.

Am I the only one, who when faced with a social situation in which I'm unsure what the other person wants, tends to duck her head and just run in whatever direction I'm pointed... And that "running" can be metaphorical or actual. This usually results in two possibilities. 1) being ignored or 2) someone greeting me or saying goodbye in a really amused tone of voice.

Apparently cowardice is funny.

Dealing with the days...

Hey there, thanks for being patient. Oh and happy birthday, Katie!! For your patience I give you a super long blog! I was at a church conference and I had no internet connection last night except via phone, and trust me, typing out my blog via phone would not have been possible. Plus I was in a difficult spot last night, so it probably wouldn't have been good anyway. At least good in a positive, uplifting way. I had a rough night, honestly, and after last night I was just spent.

I try not to be preachy on here. I know that people of various beliefs read my blog, and I know that even in Christianity there are some serious divides and some serious emotions/objections when those divides are crossed. So I mainly try to stay in the "God is good" realm... because pretty much all faith systems think that and it's not super offensive to those who operate outside a faith system. But I have some things I feel like I need to share, so you are forewarned. They are my experiences, so you might find them interesting enough, just because you care about me enough to read my blog, or you might not like them. I can't really help it either way. I just have to get out what is buzzing around in my head.

Last night was so hard because I was waiting for something. You know the church camp experience? Where you go to church camp and feel so close to God?... I was looking for that last night at the grown-ups version of church camp. But all I ran into was hurt. I just kept running into my sorrow, seems like everywhere I went to look for God I just found more and more of the pain that I'd bottled up.

So I went up to the front for ministry time... which basically means that I went up to the front to have people pray for me. And that was hard, because I didn't know the people who were praying for me and it just felt like there was so much to explain... and honestly I have a lot of baggage to just set down in front of someone... people don't know how to deal with grief unleashed. It's scary. The first girl to pray for me was my age or maybe a little younger. She was totally sweet and heartbroken for me, and I think also terrified of praying for me. She called her husband over almost immediately. His name was Nathan. And when I told him that was my husband's name I saw that hit him... I don't like to look at people with my broken eyes... feels like they can see too far in. Feels like I'm pushing my grief out at someone else.... like I'm forcing my unhappiness on them, but this couple took that. They just met me in the heartbreak. They didn't try to make it better, they just asked God to help and hugged me, which I needed. And then as Nathan was ending the prayer he said in a strange tone, "It's going to be ok." Which of course just wrecked me, because how often have I mentioned on here how much I want to hear Nathan tell me it's going to be ok? How much more often have I wished for it in my head? This Nathan didn't know he was echoing my Nathan.

Then another woman came up to pray for me. And she was also very nice. I told her less.... just that I was in a lot of emotional pain. I couldn't explain anymore. I didn't have it in me. She prayed for me and gave me some good mental images of God wanting to take my pain and soak it up. She also prayed a great deal for hope for me, which is something that I need... When Nathan died I had a great deal of hope. But over the course of these seven and a half months I've lost a good deal of it. Not faith or knowledge that Nathan is in heaven, but finding the hope left in my life here without him.

Still at the end of that I was drained and frustrated because I didn't feel any closer to God at all... if anything I felt numb. Then one lady who I didn't know came up to me and asked me if I'd heard from God... and I nearly scowled at her.. I'm pretty sure I grimaced. I think I said something to the effect of, "I don't really know." I wanted to say, "Only if God was trying to tell me to be miserable." Five minutes later a friend came up and asked me if prayer was good. I sighed... and said, "Yes....... sorta....." and then I threw up my hands in frustration, "No." (I'm terrible at lying to my friends.)

I felt awful. The church camp experience is supposed to help and I just felt terrible. I felt grumpy and upset and lonely and kinda irritated at God for not showing up like I expected Him to, and for bringing up all these tears but not bringing me a great deal of comfort. Plus I was just emotionally exhausted in a way I've not been since the days following the funeral... I'd cried until I couldn't cry any more. I probably should have stayed up front until I felt better... but I'm kinda a chicken when it comes to being in the front of the church, and I got self-conscious and went back to my seat. So it's probably my fault that I left feeling so drained.... but who knows...

Anyway this morning we had more conference and it was good, but I was still feeling kinda out of it. And when ministry time came I didn't feel any special call and no one supernaturally knew to call my name or someone in my very particular situation, so I stayed where I was. I wasn't emotional at all, I just figured I'd done what I'd done and I needed to change my expectations... and then a friend came up to me with something she'd felt/thought last night and it was so spot on with everything I'd been thinking and feeling last night... and then she said something else that addressed another part of my sadness from the last night... and then in the midst of a prayer for me she practically echoed the words I'd said silently to God in my head last night-The Vineyard calls the sucky parts of this world the "not yet," meaning the kingdom of God is not here in it's fullness, yet. (The parts where the world is going right, where people are mended, their relationships are restored, and life is just *right* is the "already"- meaning the kingdom is already here. If you want a slightly more fleshed out version you can find it here. Yes, there is a Wikipedia article about it! If you want more information, like scripture references, I can give them to ya, but we can have that discussion more personally.) Last night I was complaining to God basically about how very much of the "not yet" I'd seen. These past two years it feels like it's all I've seen, and I said in my head, "God, I've just seen so much of the "not yet." I'm so tired of the "not yet." Can't I see some of your kingdom in my life? Can't I see something going not just alright, but well?"

And this afternoon the my friend prayed, "God, Renée has just seen so much of the "not yet." For years it's been almost all she's seen, and God we just ask that you would give her some of the "already." So much of the "already" to counteract how much "not yet" she has experienced."

All this week I've been feeling like Job... granted Job had it rougher than I do... but... nonetheless I've been upset and having a pity party and saying, "No matter what, I'm not going to turn away from you God... but this sucks and I don't understand why it's happening and I don't like it." In fact, last week when I talked about Job's daughters it was because I'd been reading Job... I didn't read the whole thing... just to chapter 20 or so and then I skimmed to the end. And I fixated on one word in this sentence: "After Job had prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before." (Job 42:10). If I tell you my friend prayed that God would "restore my life, dreams, and hopes for the future" would you guess what word it was?

After that another woman came up to me to share something with me that she felt God wanted to tell me last night as well. And she told me that God thinks I'm beautiful. On the outside, but on the inside, too... that God thinks everything about me is beautiful. That's one of the things I miss so much about Nathan... how often he told me I was beautiful.

I had a fresh slew of tears between these two women this morning.... but it felt a lot happier... it felt more cleansing.

Something that the speaker said last night almost as an aside really resonated with me. "Whatever you do with people you do with God. You can't be split down the middle and be different for God and for people." In other words if you are distrustful of people, you will be distrustful of God. If you have father issues with people then you will have them with God. If you are reserved and distant with people, you will be with God, too. (Not that this can't all be changed.) This resonated with me because I recognized it as really true at least with me... I have a fear of abandonment with people. I try to make them need me, so that I will trust they won't leave me. I also have a great deal of pride and don't want to be a burden to other and don't trust them to not resent me if I am a burden somehow. And I want to be exactly what they need, so they will depend on me. I want to be perfect.

Guess what? I do that to God, too. I wouldn't say that I fear God's abandonment... but I don't want to be a burden on God either... I try to be a perfect example of grief. I want to be a good Godly example of how to handle things. I want to bring attention back to God if someone thinks I'm handling it well. In my mind I know that God doesn't need me to be perfect. That he doesn't see me as a burden at all and that he actually doesn't need or want me to be independent because that means I'm not relying on Him. And yet this is my default. And then I get so worn down and tired because choosing joy in the midst of suffering is hella hard, and if you do it right then most people don't know that there is something wrong at all.

I need to change this... just because Nathan is gone, doesn't mean I don't need to lean on anyone at all... and it certainly doesn't mean I should stop leaning on God. I don't have to be perfect in any way. I can come to Him just as I am.. broken, longing for restoration, tired, and lonely. And He'll be there for me... He'll hug me in my heartbreak and give me hope. He'll restore my life and tell me that I'm beautiful. He's proven that over and over and over- not just this weekend. One doesn't need a conference to be reminded that God is good, all the time, but sometimes it helps.

From the mouth of hobbits

"Frodo: I can't do this, Sam.

 Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

 Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?

 Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for."

 I think that pretty well says it all, tonight.

Waiting and Hiding

I wrote this on facebook, but I think it bears repeating.  Every time I'm driving and someone is driving on a road to my right (approaching a stoplight, stop sign, or yield turn) I flinch. I want to jerk my wheel, even though that would have done me no good in the actual accident. I just... cringe on the inside... and driving down Campbell today was... difficult.

Talked to the insurance today... they basically told me I need to wait. Because it sounds like it was her fault (oh, because it was!) it will most likely be filed under her insurance and my policy won't have much to do with it. But if she tries to pass it off as not her fault... which... I don't know how it could have not been her fault as I had no stop signs or traffic signals of any sort, and she had a stop sign she failed to obey.... but there were no witnesses and I'm sure her version doesn't match up with mine. But anyway if it's under her policy I need to wait- cause better to *not* pay my deductible if I don't have to. Right? Of course, right.

So now I just have to sit around waiting for insurance to call me and driving around my busted car, which makes me nervous. I mean it's working, but a mechanic hasn't checked it out... How do I know I'm not doing something really bad to it?

Hi, my name is Renée and I worry about a lot of things.... still.

I call it thinking ahead.

I like to point my feet towards each other when I'm standing up... It makes me feel really cute for some reason... What's up with that?

Sometimes at parties I get so caught up in trying to surreptitiously watch how other people are interacting that I forget that I am also supposed to be interacting... and sometimes... I pretend like I'm off in my own world, just so other people don't notice that I'm sitting off to the side with no idea how to interact with anyone and desperately trying to keep cool and act like I have this deep rich inner world when actually all I'm trying to do is pretend I'm not ardently wishing I was better at small talk.

I think I might have more pride than is necessarily healthy.

Above all else, avoid the appearance of desperation. I think that's my motto half the time. I can *be* desperate, as long as I don't look like it... Keep the desperation on the inside. It's safer there.

Car Accident

So.... the 9:00PM to 12:30 AM nap... not among my most august of ideas.

But I have an excuse. Or at least I think that I do. I was in a car accident today. Yep. A car accident. In my lovely car. Now my lovely car's front bumper looks terrible... though I honestly think that may be the only thing that's seriously damaged. No air bags.

Basically a girl ran a stop sign and by the time that I saw she was running it, I didn't have time to stop, and I hit her driver's side door head on. I'm fine, she is fine, it could have been a *lot* worse. I was shaken up, but I stayed calm and relatively competent I think. The police officer was really nice. I think he knew it wasn't my fault. The EMT's arrived and asked if I was ok, and I waved them off and I said, "Oh, I'm fine."

They laughed, "That was easy!"

But I am fine... just makes me miss Nathan. It's time like these that we have husbands and boyfriends for... so that when something scary happens you don't have to be the strong one. I'm tired of being strong. I can't even say "the strong one," cause that implies there are more of me than myself.

Basically, I feel like everyone deserves to have a hug after getting in a car accident, and I didn't get one. And so now I'm feeling whiney. I should have just hugged the police officer. Poor guy wouldn't have known where that came from. Why are men infinitely more comforting to me than women? I think I might have a complex.

But the thing I have to focus on is that I'm ok. I'm not in a hospital... that girl isn't in a hospital. Praise the the Lord, I didn't have to go to a hospital. Praise the Lord that I was able to brake as much as I did... just Praise God, anyhow.

P.S. Did you know that Job named his daughters Dove, Cinnamon, and Darkeyes? At least that's what the Message tells me... in other words, Jemimah, Keziah, and Keren-Happuch. I kinda like it.

Senior-itis

Today I finally got to wear my birthday boots and my long sleeved jackety-shrug thing. It was fabulously exciting... it might have been a bit early for the boots, but I had to wear them! I've been waiting for a month!!

I've told you I like to smell like fall, haven't I? Well, I have a confession to make... that I may have already made but I'm going to re-confess, if so. I like to smell like fall... I like to smell like fall so much that I use a home fragrance oil made by Bath & Body Works as perfume. I'm not even kidding. I know this is totally odd. It's called "Leaves" -though I would contend that it doesn't smell like leaves.. or at least not just like leaves. It smells sooooo good. So, if you are around me and you think, "My, I smell pumpkins and firepits and cinnamon and fall. What could that be?" 

It's me.

Plus I read somewhere that men find pumpkin pie smell attractive... so that kills two birds with a single stone. Attractive to them and comforting to me. No joke. Pumpkin pie. Check it yo.

You know what's weird? Seeing someone you used to have a crush on. I had this experience a while back. I had a crush on this guy a long time ago... and then I ran into him and it was surreal. Let me just say, that when I crush I'm all in. I turn all of my impressive arsenal of detail noticing to 11 and I focus. I focus like it's going out of style. Then eventually the crush wanes and I move on... but not before I have committed every gesture, every facial expression, every mannerism to memory. Which is fine if you never see them again... but if you ever have a conversation with the guy, let me tell you it is weird, because all the things you'd forgotten that you once noticed, you now see and, boy howdy, is it distracting. You suddenly feel like you are in an episode of the Twilight zone, and you can't even carry on a decent conversation for the level of meta your brain is undergoing.

I missed the 29th. Last month for the first time, I missed the 29th. It was a day that came and went without my noticing... It might have been because the week before was so hellish, or it might have been that I was distracted, but I missed it... and I don't feel bad... It's not like I don't miss Nathan, or think of him every day... but I don't want to have dark days. I don't want to have days where I feel obligated to be stuck in sadness. I missed the 29th and honestly when I realized it, it was a bit of a relief.

People are starting to forget, I've noticed. People are starting to forget that their lives have been touched by death... I mean sure, the people on the fringe have been forgetting for a while, but friends are starting to forget. Young people joke about dying because it's so foreign a concept- something that only happens to the elderly. And we are starting to slip back into that mode... I don't mind it, except that in some ways it makes it all feel like a dream. I could barely believe sometimes when Nathan was alive that he'd chosen me... and now without him here as proof... it's so much easier to feel like it was a dream.  So much of me and who I am was invested in Nathan... so much of my life and my time was invested in him, and sometimes it makes me scared of wanting to invest in other people. If I put all my time investment in one basket what will happen if it doesn't work out, or if we stop being friends or heaven forbid, someone else dies... I just realized I've got senior-itis (what high school seniors get during spring semester)... only it's about the life version... and I'm only a freshman.

Miniscule

I'm so on a people high right now... I hosted a party for Melissa tonight, limited only in the number of people who can comfortably fit in my tiny apartment (We were actually a couple over "comfortable" I think.) But it was lovely. I hate the cleaning and the prep, but I really enjoy hosting things... Possibly because I love getting people together and hanging out and I'm most comfortable at my own place. Plus, Kara teases me, but I like to imagine my house really is a magical land where time seems to go away. If we can just get people laughing hard enough and smiling long enough, time stops. Sleepiness goes away, and suddenly you are saying, "Holy crap, it's one in the morning!" (I say, "you" because, even if I don't know it's one in the mornin' that isn't so late to me. :) )

My hair was cooperative today. I love it when that happens.

Yeah, I really don't have anything else to say. I'm just drifting along in a happy little euphoria. I think I'll go read a book.

Love you a bushel and a peck.

Will you stay with me? Will you be my love?

"Fields of Gold," I've been replaying this over and over and over. Not the Sting version, the girl version. Not sure why... Just one of those resonating songs, I guess.

I could karaoke the bejeepers out of this song... but they are only gonna have the Sting version at a karaoke place and that wouldn't be in the right key for me... I could still sing it but there would not be any bejeepers.

Someone needs to sing this on American Idol.. it could be their next "Hallelujah."

I just found out that Post Secret is hosting an event in Springfield. I'm so bummed that I have a church conference and so I'll be out of town. I want to go so badly I think that I would buy the ticket and just go on my own and, boy howdy, that is saying something! I never go to things on my own... unfortunately, I'll be gone. Springfield isn't a big city but I think I forget that it's not a small town, either. Some restaurants here stay open all night... and most of them stay open at least till 11 on weekends... in my home town if a restaurant is open after nine it's kinda a big deal. Every once in a while I realize that I drive down a 5 lane street to get nearly anywhere in this city and I think about how flabbergasted my younger self would be to know I'm totally comfortable with this. *insert witty phrase about life not being what you expected when you were young and naive here.*

I'm a baking fool, btw. Fear me and my baking prowess.

I need a bigger apartment... or a house... that way I could entertain the way that I want to, and there would be space for everyone. There is never enough space in my apartment.

I'm so glad church is tomorrow... I'm feeling starved for people... the Gilmore's don't count.

Last Love Letter

It's not really fair, you know. How the movies and television shows always have one last letter from a person who died that someone manages to save for years and years until it comes to light at the exact perfect time... and it's all about how the one who's still living is so amazing, and how sure the one who is gone is that they are amazing, and how much they love them and how much they wish that they were there with them. But what can you expect, really? I mean in the movies there are secret admirers and guys climb up to girl's window at 2:30 in the morning, and make grand gestures of love including standing on the girl's lawn with a boom box over his head.

Things like that don't happen in real life. Real life isn't like the movies. How is it that I'm 28 and just now deciding this? How is it that it took me this long to realize that my life isn't like a movie? That just because something makes cinematic sense, that doesn't mean it is going to happen outside the cinema. That having a "feeling" about something doesn't mean it's foreshadowing, and that the things you root for to happen... sometimes they don't.

There is no letter. There is no declaration of love from beyond the grave. There aren't secret admirers, guys don't climb trees just to talk to a girl, and grand gestures of love aren't nearly so grand.

It's tricksy and false to lead a life so full of drama I suppose... cause then you start to believe that your life is a movie... and it just isn't.




I wrote all that about 2 hours ago... and then I stopped and read the Heaven Is For Real book... Yes, all of it.  And I used up 16 tissues.... But I feel a bit less disillusioned and unhappy now... a bit more hopeful.... a bit more like I've gotten a love letter at the exact right time.

This, my friends, is the danger of a girl who reads. A girl who reads can never quite give up hope, because there is always something to turn the tide.

Kitsunes make me hungry

Happy Birthday, Lissa!

I was gonna go to bed at 12:30 and then I remembered that I still had to blog this evening. So you see, it is not my fault that I don't get enough sleep. It's my blog's fault. But since I'm off tomorrow, it's all ok, for I can get extra sleep in the morning time... PLUS I don't know if you recall this, but it's Labor Day weekend, so that means that I don't work on Monday. Hopefully you don't work either, so together we can celebrate this most auspicious of occasions, the 3 day weekend... or 4 day if you don't work on Fridays, but please don't be a hater. Being a hater is something that should be avoided if at all possible.

Tonight, I've been going over various kitsune myths/legends. For some reason they say there are a ton of these types of stories, but there isn't a lot of information online... I mean enough to get a general idea, but kitsune are apparently polarizing... you either love them or you've never heard of them. Oh ok, here, I'll throw you a wikipedia bone. Gosh, you really gotta learn how to google stuff for yourself, some day. :)

I'm kidding, of course. I love being your source of arcane knowledge. Well, really more like your source for your source of arcane knowledge.

Do you ever want something sweet and then discover that really what you wanted was for the sweet thing to sit next to you in case you actually wanted to eat it? I've had a rice krispie treat sitting next to me for hours.

Oh man, you know what I just remembered? The cinnamon rolls and the cookies they sold at lunch in highschool. A lot of people loved those cinnamon rolls, but the cookies... especially when they were barely baked and really just flat cookie dough that could be rolled into a cookie dough ball... *that* was good stuff.

I think I love the flavor of oats far more than a normal person, but I don't know how to do a qualitative analysis to determine for sure.... Do you know anyone else who loves oatmeal flavored ice cream... or makes oatmeal just to put a scoop of ice cream on it... or only eats the cobbler/streusel for the topping? Wait... maybe I just did a qualitative analysis. This just in, folks, I heart oats.

I've recently discovered this soup called Tom Kha Gai. I'm a late Thai food adapter/adopter, I know, it's about time. Anyway this soup is a chicken and lemongrass and coconut milk soup... and ach. It. Is. Good. I'm having very specific food longings tonight... And I don't even think I'm hungry... though I'm probably making you hungry by now. Sorry, yo.

What can I say? Kitsunes make me hungry!

Proudest moment?

Blogger has a brand new interface... I'm trying to get used to it. (Don't worry, it's not something you will see.)

It's a strange thing what a relief it is to see someone on a TV show who is on a ventilator *look* like they are on a ventilator. Makes me sad, but it doesn't make me angry... makes me feel like someone out there knows... or at least that they did their research. There are some things it is cruel to try and fake, and hospital scenes are one of them.

I was thinking today that I should send a thank you letter to Nathan's dr and nurses in St. Louis... I never actually did that, and they were so nice and kind to us.

I've been posed the question, "When you look back on your life, what are you the most proud of?" and I think that I'm too young to have something to be the most proud of, and then I remember I'm 28... and I think, "How have I not had something that I can definitively point to as my proudest thing?" and then I remember that I don't have children, and I've never had huge lofty dreams... just small simple ones... I lack ambition, you know.

I'm not sure how I've become so old and so young at the same time.... oh wait, maybe I do know... that stupid wolf, again.

I'm feeling contemplative... this is a dangerous place for me... Luckily, I have my handy dandy distractions all around me... Like the fact that my apartment desperately needs to be cleaned, and must be cleaned by  Sat, because the lovely Melissa is having a birthday party here that night.

Yes, apartment cleaning. That's precisely what I should be doing at 2 in the morning.

Then again, perhaps not.