Theology...blah, blah, blah

I presented my senior paper for the second time this morning. It's about the theology of place and how land and places and buildings and dirt can be knit into our souls. Blah, blah, blah. I reread parts of it last night, and became fairly convinced that I was stoned when I wrote it.

I kept thinking about people though, this morning, when I was sitting on that step stool looking all smart and shit. I kept thinking about the people that are knit into my soul, the people that feel like home to me. I had to stop myself from talking about things that I shouldn't have been talking about though, because there were only 45min, and I could have talked for hours about the places and people in my own soul, and the love and commitment found therein. My own brain is scattered with all the houses I've ever lived in.

I know I've talked about this before, but it's been hitting me in a whole new way, this idea that other people change us fundamentally, and that we cannot truly leave another person. We may not speak to a person for ages, but some people really do leave marks on us, proof that they were there. And to be sure, some people naturally leave deeper marks than others: parents, childhood friends, first loves, siblings. Good, bad, it's all there. There are some people you will just love forever (or hate forever, if you choose to do so).

Peace out :)

Not enough makeup

Time travel with authentic Jacobean embroidery!

So over the past five years, I have worked myself into a continual semi-conscious state by putting myself through school - by myself. I never payed a cent for tuition; unfortunately, my government loans did all of that (ack, repayment!), but I did do the rest mostly by myself (minus some dollars here and there from scholarships and loan overflow). Boo-yah.

Unfortunately, this doesn't feel like such a big deal on the flip side. Now it feels like I'm some sort of hippie dreamer who wears used clothing and got a masters degree for fun. I don't wear enough makeup to be taken seriously. I swear everyone's teeth were whiter than mine at the ceremony on Saturday. I had a weird growth on my eyebrow. And then when it was all over, I ate a burger made of beets.

It really just couldn't get any worse.

Oh happy day!

I just got home from my graduation "gala" where I froze my freakin' butt off. Sometimes the event is burning hot, but tonight it was so cold. I put my hair up. I don't know what it looked like from behind, but it looked awesome from the front. I finally bought some super glue and fixed my pearls so I could wear them.

My mom wouldn't stop saying how "fucking proud" of me she is. My dad kept beaming with misty eyes. It was pretty great. Tonight has reminded me that I have made a life for myself in the last five years, a whole meaningful life with people who love me warts and all. When we got into the car and managed to stop our teeth from chattering, I told them how glad I am to have them with me, because when we're together, I make sense.

Dear L & J, Thanks for loving me. I couldn't have done it without you. I love you both so much.-M

A gay affair

My friend Vanessa over at Thrift Core has a booth at an antique store, and writes regularly about how to keep a booth fresh and profitable. The more I think about it, the more I think it's a great idea. Why not? It would allow me to put inventory somewhere other than my home, and would allow me to utilize all of those "fun finds" that often go unnoticed online. I don't know. It's an idea.

The dryer at our house is broken and squeaking like a mofo, so all of my clothes are outside right now drying in the wind. There's a miniature orchard in our backyard, and I think that graduation means I deserve to put my hammock up in the shade. It will be my napping/reading spot. I just need someone to help me with knotting the ropes. I also don't have any rope, so I'll need that too.

Tomorrow is the graduation banquet. We call it a "gala", but no one dresses that nice. You know the stereotype about the poor graduate student? It's a real thing. I went shopping last weekend at an outlet mall. I was shocked to see people spend more than $3 for a top. Pretty much every year at the gala, I wear one of two dresses I got from our school's clothes closet. What's better than free, baby?!

Coffee filters don't degrade quickly.

 

I have begun transferring dirt from the rotting pile to the dirt pile. I have a cement double sink outside and I use it to compost my crap. The coffee filters are ridiculous, but everything else seems to decompose pretty quickly. I'm going to have to start using the dirt for something, but I'm not much of a gardener. I'm more of a dirt lover, a maker of mud pies and the like. I don't know. I guess I just feel like it's a guaranteed failure. I kill plants, so I figure I'll just keep things from dying and never try.

If you know something is going to fail, is there really any sense in trying? I started an MA program 4.5 years ago, and it was clear from the beginning that I was not going to make it. I fell apart so often that I lived in an almost constant suicidal depression. I was in over my head before I even knew what was happening, and I was a pretty smart cookie. I grasped at anything and everything, used sex to cope, and in a kind of broken-down delusional state, was still left with an intangible determination.

Now here I am, all these years later, and I am a different person. Few people got to see the transition-it was ugly and I remember little of it. But I know that it happened, because I am alive. Somehow, in the end, I got composted. And like non-food products, I was pretty tough to break down.

Ah, melancholy...

During the past couple days, I got a lot of writing done. From my current estimation, I have about nineteen pages. There are whole sections which have not yet been addressed, so I'm not close to done. I am, however, starting to have a melancholy feeling about the end of an era. This is no-man's land. I have never been anywhere that looks remotely like this place, and I want to run far, far away.

So now, I'm going to eat a piece of cake.

Productive day!

I was so productive today. I put together my brand new printer! And I used it!

Last weekend, I bought a Brother laser printer, a shipping scale, and sheets of printable labels. Now I will be more productive during the week because I won't have to spend so much time at the post office. When the printer came to my house, I got ridiculously happy and jumped up and down. I've just been walking around with a big grin ever since.

Before the printer set-up, I cleaned my toilet. And before that, I went to a workshop on Human Trafficking. At some point during the afternoon, I took a long walk with the dog, and worked my brain hard thinking about my senior paper.

It was a very productive day.

Ah, the guilt

I spent all day yesterday working on my paper. I have nothing left this morning to go to church.

I feel like I let people down when I don't go, especially when a friend is preaching. I feel like I owe it to her to be there. I feel like people will forget me if they don't see me often enough, that they'll stop caring about me the less they see me.

But I'm so tired, and I've seen what happens when I wear myself too thin. It's not pretty, and I need to leave some wiggle room. I'll get sick at this pace. Ah, but the guilt.

I don't have the energy to analyze this right now, so I'm just going to do it, because I have to. I will suffer the guilt, because the fact is, I don't got have anything left to give right now. I'm all out. See you on the flip side.

The beauty of a snoring dog

You know how when your life is crazy, but it's manageable, and then one thing gets added and the whole structure topples down? Yeah, that's where I am right now. Everything was going along at a steady clip, and then I got a paper, and everything ground to a halt. I'm tired; I'm cranky; I'm not in love with this paper. I am stuck between two worlds, the professional world and the student world, and my brain is having a lot of trouble with the latter.

I was so concerned about my weekend of paper writing that I drove across town to borrow the dogs. One is snoring right now; it's a blissful sound. I miss them so much, but now that they're making way through my tiny place, I remember that having them here would be impossible, and that I enjoy not having to care for anyone but myself.

Some people think that singleness is selfish, but that's just not the whole picture. Singleness can be a choice, just like any other relationship choice. And it can be done out of obligation, or it can be done from a place of need or desire. At this place in my life, I am needing to be alone. And it's a good thing. Maybe someday that will change, but right now, my cranky self and I would like to be alone with the dogs.

Also, I slept way better last night with them here.

So tired...

I haven't been sleeping. So I'm in a perpetual state of unrest, over-alertness, but with a combination of total clumsiness and mild forgetfulness. I'm not hallucinating or anything, but I'm certainly not "on my game". I have a very long, arduous paper to write that's due on Monday, and I don't want to go to the library today, but I have to. I'm so tired.

I had a possibly amazing day thrifting yesterday: antique bisque doll (possibly), sterling silver spoons, and an unfinished vintage Erica Wilson crewel project that's particularly lovely. I will try to finish my paper today so I can take photos tomorrow, which is a definite motivation. I do need some breakfast right now though, and some Daily Show.

I had four eBay sales yesterday. The above photo is of a collection of fifty Audubon bird prints. I bought it for $10 at an estate sale and sold it for $100. Definitely has gotten me on track for my October goal. I was also able to sell a skirt that I bought for myself that ended up being too short. That was a relief. I am going to try to make a page just for updates of October's Apron Thrift Girl Reselling challenge. I don't usually say much about my sales, but this seems like a good excuse.

Theology and Sexuality

This weekend, I am taking a class on Sexual Addictions. I'm taking it, not because I need the class for any requirement, but because I don't feel like I have any sense of what sexual addiction is about, whether it is different from other addictions, and if so, how and why?

I would really like to write about the theology of sexuality, like dissertation write about it. I have come to such a different place in my heart through my years at the seminary. But I feel like it's off-limits in a way. For example, there are women writers who write about sex and theology, who even do it well. Yet, in spite of this, the podcast I received this week, that we were to listen to before class, mentioned ZERO women. You read that right, zero. I was offended. I still am.

But there's something about women writing about sex that seems like too much to us. Men talking about sex can be academic, scriptural, biblical, etc. Women talking about sex could be emotional, laden with the possibility for innuendo. Women are seen as sexual objects and are thus even at greater risk for being misunderstood and vilified for their brashness. We read the words, but we see breasts, breasts, breasts. Yikes.

This (i.e. writing about theology and sexuality) is not my calling in life right now, though it is a passion of mine. If I have a "calling", I don't know what it is.

[Sidenote: Now that I'm in my final year at the seminary, I'm flooded with this language of calling. "Has he been called?" "Have they called her yet?" "We've decided not to call you." I'm not a fan. Calling is by God, no? So for something that is God-driven, we throw our weight around an awful lot on the issue.]

I wish we could talk about sexuality more freely. I wish that we weren't still wrestling with the topic of gender (and by we, I mean a large percentage of the Church). We're still talking about ordaining women, when we should be talking about issues of justice in our larger environments and the Church's effect on the World. But there we sit in our small churches, arguing about women in the pulpit. Bleh. It makes me crazy.

So I enter this weekend with hope that I will be surprised, but concerned that I won't be. Updates later.