Moving on and Growing up

Through the years, I have not been the best to listen to what God is actually saying. I hear what I think He is saying and then swim full force into the coral reef,battering myself against it till I'm angry and exhausted. Slowly, I'm starting to listen better, figure out faster that what He is saying is not exactly what I heard, and calm down before the water is bloody and the sharks are hovering. Life has been so great lately that when my latest upset happened I don't think I even really had been ramming the reef that long before I figured out that it wasn't working.

So I'm looking for a place to live. And I'm looking for a roommate. The roommate I thought I had lined up wasn't as certain as I was about moving out and rooming, so instead of waiting for three years like I did for my last supposed to be roommate, I'm moving on. I need out so pray that God sends me a roommate.

Colors of Healing

I lay down to sleep tonight covered in Lamp Black, Prussian Blue, Lemon Yellow, Burnt Umber, & Titanium White. I have painted. Did I paint what I needed to paint? No. But I painted. And that means I'm working through the ball of emotional mess. Or trying to start. It means I can start to heal. It means that the art can start to flow. It means that everything I've started to give up I can get back. I can read. I can write. I can paint. I can photograph. I can lay under the trees and watch thhe clouds. I can remember what my soul enjoys. I can visit Kalea again. I can open myself up to a relationship again. Well maybe not quite that.

Good night world. Dream of fairies in the trees and mermaids in the waves.

Friends

As I find myself in uncharted waters, I'm beginning to notice the strength that others see in me. They don't have standards and expectations for me. They just know I'll do it. They know I will swim against the current when I need to and go with the flow when I must. They don't just have faith in me, they have knowledge in me. And I'm currently finding that I need their strength, their knowledge that I will beat my fears, their love and support. I am a mer on land, and I am walking a new path.

You know how when your life is just going along so swimmingly that you just keep waiting for the current to snag you and toss you about until you're gasping and trying to make it back up for air? I'm there. I'm waiting. And it just keeps getting better! No current! No gasping! Promotion. Raise. Quit my scrapbook job, so I'll only be working 40 hrs a week. I get to paint again. Friends asked me to be the photographer for their wedding. Friend asked me to illustrate her books. Looking at moving. Life is just peachy!!

Tears, Inappropriate comments, and Souls

Lying in my bed, listening to the rain, and crying over the offensive things that were said to me at work last night, I decided to write about why such comments are so offensive.

Last night, at my second job, a middle-aged male came around the corner from having his meal with his WIFE, saw me smiling behind the cash stand, and asked, rather loudly, if I would go home with him because he liked redheads. I awkwardly laughed and told him it wasn't natural, but instead of him letting it go, of being grateful that some woman actually married him, that I wasn't roundhouse kicking his knees out of placement, he continues to ask me what time I got off. Repeatedly. Really? REALLY?

And as I think on it, I find it bothers me so much because it's ridiculously asinine to make comments like that. What point could that have possibly served? All I can think about is sitting in Dr. G.'s Chaucer class and discussing how physical attraction is what initially attracts us to a person. Why? Because we let it. I don't know if I will ever understand it, because what good is the outward appearance? Really, what good is it? It fads with age or is taken away with an accident. What is so hard to understand about that? We are not "bodies with souls" as Jim Butcher's Queen Mab so distinctly puts it, but rather "souls with bodies". The shell is a temporary residence. We should be attracted to each others souls. They're the stuff of eternity.

So, dear readers, I've decided I have three choices: 1. Marry a blind man. 2. Become a nun. 3. Travel and paint with a completely platonic male friend to keep the creepers at bay. I like number three best--LB, let's go!

First Loves and "What If"s

I just discovered that my "first love" is married. Has been for a couple of months. My heart stopped, watched my youth die, and started back up again with a bit of remorse. I've long since dispersed my feelings for this male on the winds of yesteryear, and really am quite happy that his life is going so well for him, but it still seems to slap my year long commitment in the face. I've made this commitment to God for no dating for one year. An entire year of no dating, no giving out my number, as minimal amount of flirting as possible, in order to work on all of my trust and commitment issues. You know, taking that time for me before I get into another relationship and then figure out that I need to work on my issues. But still, in spite of everything, I can't help but muse over the "what if"s. What if at 15 I hadn't freaked out when he sent me a lovey-dovey email poem with flashing, red hearts that summer in Oregon? What if I had been honest with myself from the start? What if the next summer I hadn't lied to him when he asked if I ever had feelings for him? What if I hadn't set him up with a friend who broke his heart? What if he hadn't moved away? What if I hadn't waited four years to confess my feelings for him that first semester of college? What if he hadn't disappeared, again? What if that New Year's Eve two years ago I had leaned in and kissed him like I so desperately wanted to? What if I hadn't called him two days later and explained to him every single reason why we couldn't be together (because, oh yes, he had still felt it also) which literally put him in the arms of his new bride? What if? What if? What it!! Would it be me? Would I be a newly wed? Would I have gone to Lee and met Dana and Kathryn and James? Would I have discovered I'm a painter? Would I have studied and expanded my mind? Would I be wondering about the life I could have had?  Would I have experienced half the things I have experienced? Seen half of what I've seen? Would I be who I am? I rather think not. I can't really imagine that version of myself. I still can't even really see myself getting married down the road, but with him, would it have been different? He was that tantric love of youth, after all. Are the rules different that first time? Is each subsequent relationship more focused on the drive of tomorrow to experience that zealousness of now?

Harry Dresden, How I Love Thee

If you're a book lover, chances are you've read a book that just leaves you feeling lost in the wake of it's epic-ness. You have so many thoughts and inquiries and a sense of needing more. You sit and revel in the intense feeling of a well completed tale and scoff at your own amateur attempts. Well, I just finished one. Ghost Story, Jim Butcher's 13th book in the Dresden Files, is just that. I know, the 13th book sounds like it would just be dragging the story on, like the 13th Land Before Time movie, but Butcher's style is nothing like that. If anything, he actually gets better with each subsequent book. If you're looking for a new read, something for both men and women with a touch of magic, a lot of mystery, quite a few fiery explosions, and some romance tossed in, check out Harry Dresden, Chicago's own snarky personal wizard detective in Storm Front and then go out and buy the second and third and fourth and...you get the picture. Also, if you're a fan of audio books, this series is read by yummy ole Spike from Buffy, yep James Marsters. And just as lovely is the graphic novel versions that Butcher is putting out. Welcome to the Jungle is the first installment. Everything about this series makes me happy.