Thursday, February 7, 2008
I went to career fest almost a week ago at twenty five miles an hour desperate to get a job whether the weather hated me or not (and trust me it tried) to kill me (a sudden splash of opaque sludge on my windsheild), slippery slip past our exit. We were late but it was better to avoid the "never" that snapped at our ankles. Upon arriving I realized I forgot all my resumes (the point for coming) on the kitchen table. In basketball, the term for this is "self-checked," I do not need anyone guarding me or trying to block my shots. So I pulled myself together and did what I always do in the face of adversity...I went to my car and cried. I did come back though, and decided to talk to the employers anyway. I talked to so many employers, I was blue in the face. I started to become more and more lax as the day went on, "can I have a pen?" "Oh, man, Kirsten is totally my favorite American girl doll," "did you know that my dreams take place half the time in amusement parks?" The last question prompted a strange look, and a stuttered, well, I guess this is your destiny, by the Six Flags rep. I did find some good social servicy opportunities though. We will see we will see as the crystal ball drags us through reality. One good thing was this. I stopped by Athletes in Action, a really large Christian sports organization that ran a camp called King's Domain that was really important for me to start understanding who Jesus was. I didn't buy it, but seeds were scattered along the arteries if not in my heart. So I told the rep this and he said oh my goodness I was a councelor at that camp eleven years ago which is the same exact year that I went. And that is my story of how in a cold and sterile business bonanza, I met a childhood friend who played guitar in the woods and clapped at all my volleyball games. In other news: We killed a mouse that was in our house. On Monday, there was a foot of snow everywhere but it was raining and thundering. And yesterday was Ash Wednesday. From dust you have come and from dust you shall return.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
To grow old with those we love is to see the death of a million potentials. Little corpses scattered along the branches of the straight trunk of a time line of what really was, spreading out infinitum. Bitter fractals bearing fruit, yet to be picked, grown overripe and soft. I don't just mean the famous zoologist waitressing at Denny's, although maybe that's part of it. But it's more than that. It is the kindness we did not do. Little moments that could have sustained us if we would have lifted our heads to look. The relationship we beat into a pulp, even when we were graciously given a hundred second chances. And sometimes I don't know what to do with all these things I could have been, all the beauty I could have found had I not taken the easy road. Like so many of us, I have shorn against my ruins a host of resolutions. I beat, whip, pull, bind myself with the stretched out leather of my bootstraps, limp and thin. It is not enough. So I reinvent myself in the image of the ideal bait. The one that will attract the boy, the job, the future I want, the approval of God. I cannot earn what I long for so I have set about to seduce it. And what is seduction other than the desperate attempt to take power away from the one we desire to want or need something other than us? And how often has my "love" taken this form? It is embarrassing to say. But perhaps I've found a morbid solution to match my morbid state. Some blood soaked ground in which to kneel. The tree of time has been a crucifix for the one for whom there was no other possibility, no other cup to drink. And all my corpses, potential selves, those of my friends who sometimes fail me, have been redeemed by one. I cannot tell you the satisfaction of feeling that I am allowed to come unafraid to the True Object of Our Apologies. I am not going to pretend that I do not have doubts about my faith or that I am not a pretentious fake at times. But I have attached myself to Christ fully. If He has died and that is all then let my dust mingle with His. But if he has risen, let me go with Him. I guess my solution to missed opportunities that time provides is found outside of time. Perhaps that is a cheap answer, or maybe it is the answer. Whichever it is I know that it that this earthly life matters. Because His time has broken into ours in the Incarnation, there is meaning here and now. I have put all my eggs in His basket, but He has given them back and hidden them here. However, an Easter egg hunt is so much more fun than a landmine field. I might become a famous psychologist or a newspaper editor or a waitress. Maybe I will dance with my great grandchildren on my 50th wedding anniversary. Maybe not. But I know that ontologically, and in the deepest sense, I will be and am OK.
Friday, February 1, 2008
This is so I don't get out the swing of things. Because when I do that. I do not return for a year and a half. It's documented. Look it up. This is going to be one of those anticipation blog entries, what's going to happen! cliff hanger kind of thing. Very exciting. Tomorrow I am going to a festival of careers. I basically walk around a huge convention center and try to sell myself to every job rep I meet, and convince them why I would be better at the job than the hundreds of other people that will be there. It is going to be a zoo. A civilized (and lurking under the surface, not so civilized) zoo. There are going to be all sorts of employers there from American girl, to working at a ranch, to the publishers of Playboy. Once I was told by a very good friend of mine that he was very happy he would never have to meet me for the first time again. I always think about that and it makes me laugh, but the truth is I am a horrible horrible first impression maker. Anyway, that is the cliff hanger. To be continued....So this morning I put on a coat that I haven't worn since October or so, I put my hand in the pocket and out came a folded piece of paper. hmmm....what is this...I thought to myself. I carefully unfolded it and looked down and there in terrible and frightening scrawl: "I just killed someone." I seriously kind of freaked out. I thought perhaps it was a friend playing a joke on me (after my pregnant stunt, I would have deserved it). And then it dawned on me....I bet someone really did kill a person and had to confess to someone so they slipped it in my pocket while I was shopping or out in public somewhere (the king has donkey ears...the king has donkey ears..). I was about to run down and tell Karen when a second dawning occurred: this was my prompt for an improv character I played back in October. Mystery solved! But it really did freak me out. Seriously.