I Dislike:
Being relegated to the frontseat.
Feeling helpless in a science class.
Laptops and earphones on roadtrips.
Pride (especially in myself).
Trying, and trying, and nothing ever happening.
When life isn't fair to people I admire.
When children are expected to behave as adults after being treated like infants.
Not fitting comfortably in places where I used to fit.
Uncertainty.

[I am]

I am pensive, and a talker. I am a Handmaid. I am student of dance. I am a teacher of dance. I am a student of theatre. I am a director. I am a student of French. I am a teacher of French. I am one of the boys. I am the big sister. I am the motherly influence. I am the one with the mischievous plot. I watch animes, cartoons, war films, romances, epics, zombie movies. I read "Lord of the Rings" "Eragon" "Twilight" and "Shakespeare". I know the basics of knitting a scarf and playing the bass guitar. I listen to NPR, U2, Mozart, Muse, Coldplay, Mutemath. I like rap music and Celtic Woman. I forget about shoes, but then become excited over a good pair of boots. I am everyone's friend and no one's lover. I am everything.

[and, consequently, nothing.]

...



.....at least I know that I am His.

[are you my mother?]

I am sitting in the little glass room where the boys prep for callbacks. They're singing along with a cd player and prompting me to listen to them sing "Now I Have Everything" - since it's unfamiliar. Unfortunately, I am also unfamiliar with it, so I can't sing Hodel's bit along with them. It is a short and comfortable snippet out of the day.

I am sitting at a round table surrounded by Nazis and poker chips. It is nice to have the free time. It is nice to play Texas Hold-em after a long personal poker lull. It is nice to drink from my huge water bottle and make shifty eyes at the boys. I'm the Revered Mother, and my bluffs are very subtle. Not the kind of mother, though, who fusses at her boys for playing cards.

I am at the host stand in the restaurant, snatching up a few menus before leading a small party to their table. Before I start walking off, I catch the eye of the tallest in a group of boys in the far end of the foyer. I grin and wave at them, then remember to seat the first customers. After seating my personal boys, I happily go about busing and cleaning with a new spring in my step. I smile at Ben when I go into the kitchen, because he's straight in my line of vision. I come up and share Patrick's seat when I get bored and no customers come in. And they, like angels, let my starving self sample their steak and shrimp.

I am a Wendy; I am a Jo. I start to wither away when I don't get enough time with my fellows. I think I would even learn to darn socks someday...if I had a dozen boys to get holes in them.

simplicity

This afternoon one of my friends proclaimed:

"Dr. Phil is a crock! He doesn't even have a degree in psychology. He just sits there telling people common sense."

And I thought...wow...and how is that a bad thing?

It's amazing to me, that mindset. Common sense isn't exactly what we go for nowadays. It's Freud's theories- didn't you know? How dare anyone excel at something without a degree to back it up.

It's like attained education versus achieved education. The one is the number of years under your belt. The degrees you have. The other is what you actually know. Your knowledge and wisdom. Of course, it makes sense for the two to go hand in hand. So often I find that they don't.

crucify him...

The first few times I watched Godspell, before I really got it, the crucifixion bothered me a little bit. Not a lot...just, like the tag of a shirt. Because, yes, there was some "electric fence" theme going on. But not really. There were no soldiers, no nails, no spears. Jesus just had his wrists tied down with ribbons and then proceeded to experience agony and death. It didn't really click. WHY was he dying? HOW was he dying?

And then I was ok with it. The whole thing is metaphorical anyway, right? But just a few days ago I thought of that scene in a way I've never thought before.

Being crucified didn't kill Jesus. Nails didn't drain his life. Soldiers didn't murder him. We did. I did. The weight of the world was on his shoulders, crushing his life. He was drowning in sin, not blood. And then Godspell made his death seem more real than it ever had, to me. Because our sin was enough to make him cry out in agony. And his love was great enough to keep him there; he was only held by scraps of fabric.

His life was not taken from him- he gave it.

[lightbulb]

I've had it with grown-ups, I think. God, what is it about ourselves that we lose the older we get? I pray to never become as ridiculous as the grown-ups I know.

tumbling thoughts

I have concluded -through a series of unrelated thoughts stemming over several years- many things about friendships. This is, of course, from how it related to my own experiences. May I never be so presumptuous as to speak for more than myself or my surroundings in absolutes.

I have found that two people cannot be "best friends" (perhaps we'll say "closest friends") when one is in a romantic relationship with somebody else- a third party. I'd venture to say it's the same when both are romantically involved with someone other than the friend in question. Because I think one's mate/spouse/romantic-whatever sort of automatically gets the top slot. If not in all ways (which I think they ought to, if it's the right sort of relationship) at least in many.

Because you tell your best friend everything, right? Or you could. But when there is an awkward thought of third party looming in the back of the mind, that doesn't work. There's a reservation. The other best friend (without the romantic partner) knows that they're in the second slot.

It works. It can still be the closest friendship of its kind. But it doesn't trump.

Ah, and then the matter of boys and girl. How blissful it is when they are young enough to be best friends. Of course, there's the adage "a guy and a girl can't be best friends unless one is actually interested in the other" (I've heard this advocated by men and refuted by men. surprise). Which is actually rubbish in my personal experience. I've seen many examples of best friendships popping up between members of the opposite sex without romantic interest. Of course, these don't last. They can't last. Generally it only works while the parties are young. Children, teenagers, unattached to a romantic partner.

But then...that's how all best friendships are, gender aside. I think one's spouse is the eventual best friend. All other "closest" friendships leading up to that are temporary. But oh...so sweet. Like the whiff of a flower in springtime.

I do love a good best friend, in theory. I've had vague friendships that might fit the category. I've had some, but then they added the romantic variable to their lives. I've had some, but people squinted at the boys and told me it's not proper. But nothing proclaimed. None of the "my best friend is (fill in the blank)." I'm NOT starry eyed and a'waitin' on a husband. But best friendship is an enticing thought. I should like to try it someday.