Dilemma

Last night I was caught in the middle of a dilemma to end all other dilemmas, especially your petty, insignificant ones. Transgender media specialist speaker vs. relaxing night of "One Tree Hill". Media specialist is code for "librarian", and relaxing is code for "fat and lazy". After discussing both sides of the issue with my dear boyfriend and other dear friends, on whose judgement I would trust my life, I came to a decision. Despite how interesting and enthralling it would be to hear the story of Debra Davis, who left her job one Friday as a man and returned as a woman on Monday, (kind of reminds me of that joke: It takes 3 days to get Somewhere on horseback. A guy left on Sunday and arrived Monday. How? His horse's name was Monday! ahahahahahaahahahahahaha. A man left work on Friday and returned as a woman on Monday. No horse? Not funny.). <-- That is called a fragment. I am fascinated by our culture's strange take on sex and sexuality, such that people can change at will, and it can be celebrated. It's just odd, and, being interested in psychology, I want to understand it more. However, I did not want to be attending some sort of rally around it. So I decided on the "One Tree Hill" night, which is basically rallying around the same thing, now that I think about it. End of season one, things start getting promiscuous! Eek. I am pretty sure that I could have come up with a more noble option for spending the evening, but alas, I did not. And ergh I am addicted to "One Tree Hill"! But they are all so bad! Except Hailey, she is the show's saving grace!

yeah

I have a highly active mind. I am not gloating by saying this, in fact it is a trial. My mind is constantly wheeling and spinning on various interest points. Connections are made lightening fast. My mind spins through possibilities so fast that what I mean to say comes out garbled and unintelligible, unless you know me. Then you can sometimes tell what connections were made to lead to what I said. I am sorry if this makes my writing boring for you because I skip around so much in my head. But,man, it sure is annoying. I would love to just calmly focus in on something without a thousand new ideas rushing in. It really helps in writing papers or in being creative, but not at all in prayer or in times of rest, when I just need to be still inside. It also doesn't work well if something bothers me or scares me, because then all the options and possibilities overwhelm me.

So imagine that mind planning a class schedule: AHHH! But I love doing it! And here it is:
Summer 2007
Psych 288 Psychology of Marriage & Family: Taught by Dr. Buri!
THEO 215 Christian Morality

Fall 2007
MWF:
9:35-10:40: Catholic Vision
10:55-12:00: English Catholic Writers Taught by Fr. Keating!
2:55-4:35: Family Communication (waitisted, but I need to get in!)
TR:
PSYCH 203 Psychology of Adolescence 9:55-11:35

Whoo hoo! I am very excited for my great schedule!

Stupid the Sparrow

Here I am at work so bored. So bored that I resorted to my poor, little blog as the receptacle of all my whining. Sorry dude. Right now the thoughts in my head are so molasses-slow that I need to force myself to come up with something even worthwhile to write about. hmmm... bunnies? no. Birds? yes! I hate birds. I hate them with a violent passion that stirs within me every morning. I love sleeping with my window open to allow a cool breeze in the room. I love needing a blanket to stay warm. That is the perfect temperature because when a blanket is a give or take item at night, sleep is just not as great. Right now is the perfect seasonal transition when the days are breezy and warm, but the nights are still pretty cold. This is surely window-opening weather. And I want to savor it because we all know what's coming... Sticky skin, sweat, damp socks, laziness, hating soup, dirty feet, feeling fat because of everyone else being skinnier... ugh! So, most nights, I hike up the window and fall blissfully asleep in my room, climate-controlled by the whims of God. How wonderful! But as soon as, oh, 6 AM rolls around, such a heathen hour!, little Stupid the Sparrow decides it's time to have a party on the branch outside my window. He must be the poor loner sparrow, who no one pays attention to, so he gets attention by piercing the eardrums of the world with his desperate little MEEPS. MEEP!, PEEP!!, SQUEAK!!! Every darn day at 6 am. What is his deal? I have tried screaming at him (this worked with Edina birds, little pipsqueaks). He just keeps meeping away. My wit's end is rapidly approaching from maybe Iowa, where I usually keep my wit's end. Because Iowa is apparently boring and desolate, so my wits won't get into any trouble there unless they run into a pack of coyotes, but now seriously why would a pack of coyotes want to harm my wit's end? What does a wit's end even look like? Surely not like scrumptious meat that a coyote would want? (If you pronounce coyote without the long e, I want to know WHAT IS YOUR DEAL? Do you think your better than me? Sheesh.) So as my wit's end comes closer, assuming the Iowan coyotes didn't want it, I begin to fantasize about shooting the little sparrow. Sounds mean, doesn't it? But if God keeps track of sparrows like how He keeps track of my hair, then taking one sparrow out of commision is equivalent to the worldly effect of plucking an eyebrow hair, right? Eh, Tim, maybe I should be taking logic, since I would obviously win everything. (Do you win stuff in that class?) So if I ever had access to a gun, which seems unlikely because people don't often give me weapons, then I suppose my plan is to kill that little beast. Ugh, but now my sentimental side is coming in. He has a family and a baby on the way, and he needs to support them. He's obviously not getting the job done by sitting outside my window meeping. Maybe I should take him to classes with me, so he can a good-paying job to support his little nest. oof. Enough sentimentality. I don't care what happens as long as he stops his stupid chirping. Do they have mental hospitals for birds (or people who really hate a certain bird and think that their wit's end is coming from Iowa for a visit, and if it's listening: stay in Iowa! I don't want you around.)

Velvety Wind

Today is one the day that I finally understood what authors mean by a "velvety soft breeze". The wind today was so smooth and subtle. It warmly caressed my skin and softly blew on my hair. I could have sat in it forever. The weekend was pretty good. Tim and I went to the OLSON bash on Friday night and attempted salsa dancing on Saturday. That was a fiasco. We went without our cell phones, expecting to meet some friends, but we ended up alone because they had changed their minds and did something else. They tried calling us, but of course we didn't answer. Tim and I have a real problem with keeping track of our cell phones. It has gotten to the point where I am proud of myself if I know where it is. On Sunday I was tired and on the verge of crankiness. (I get cranky fast, if my sleep gets out of whack.) So Tim was trying to come up with fun things to do. He thought of going to the pet store. I love the pet store. When I was younger I could spend all day long in there. It isn't quite that fascinating anymore, especially since I can't get anything except for fish. But I did decide to get myself a fish. I picked out a pearlscale goldfish. It is super fat and always has some poop hanging out, which is supremely gross, and I wish it would just release it! But I guess that is what I get for picking out a nasty goldfish. I named it George Anne. Tim named it George; I added Anne. Tim also got a new fish. His is even worse. It has a really pretty white body and flowing fins. But it has a red cap on it's head, that looks like a bubbly red brain. eww! It's name is Kimberly. I hope George Anne lives. He is so fat, that I don't know if he'll make it.

The theme of this week has definitely been choices in light of God's will. How do I choose the right pathway? How can I guarantee myself future and present happiness? Most days I feel like a character on a board game. This board game is intense though. I am the star. I have many options in front of me, and there is only one exactly right combination of choices that will make me blissfully happy for all eternity. Ag, the STRESS. I suppose this all comes from finally approaching the point in life where these decisions are imminent. I miss the high school days, where the biggest decision was which outfit would make me look the cutest. Those days are so far gone. And they left my wardrobe crying. =) In 2 short years real real life is going to smack me in the face, and I better be ready for it. It already has been poking me and making me really uncomfortable. I know that I just need to let go and trust God more. But it is really hard, when the fear is that you're gonna screw your whole life up. I wish that God would direct me in a more evident way. I am asking for lightening bolts here. I am not a patient person. I like action, and I get things done. It is hard to wait for my life to be revealed to me.

And ironically I am revealing my life as I know it, to no one in particular right here. Well, I tried revealing it to someone in particular, but that person didn't even bother to read it. Despite having bothered me for the url and everything. Sometimes these things just shoot me back to high school, when I tried to get my little brother to care and he never did. (He was cooler than me, and being cool was a big deal to me.)

answers

Answers. Have you ever realized how valuable these are? Everyone wants them, but no one can have them. Like beanie babies when they first came out. Why am I here? What should I be doing with my life? Am I making the right choices? Why are certain things wrong? What will make me happy? Can we even know? These are hard questions, and the modern solution is just throwing up your hands and admitting defeat. "Whatever, you can have your opinion and I can have mine." "Truth is personal." I resoundingly disagree. Despite my inability to sometimes formulate responses to these sorry cries of defeat, I feel truth in me. It tough little claws are subtly scratching at the insides of my stomach, warning me that giving up on it is not an option. There is truth, and we can perceive it. And that subtle gnawing that you feel when something is not quite right, that is truth begging to be freed.

Crash and Burn

I crashed and burned last night. Easter was a great holiday. I woke up early with my brothers and sisters and found my basket in my nonchalant, adult way. I remembered the year that I got a bunny. I really wanted a bunny again, but no bunnies in dorms! Waa. I did however fulfill my obligatory, holiday pet purchase by finding Tim the dopiest, most depressed looking goldfish in Petco. I haphazardly named it Clancy. Names just drop out of the air into my mind, and I don't fight them. The same thing happened with my new car. Hormie the Honda. Gross, yet fitting. Despite the fact that the car is really quite cute and nice inside and out. That purchase made for an exciting Triduum, although for all the wrong reasons. But back to Easter morning. The plan was to head over to Tim's house by 1ish. However, my fiendish brothers hatched the idea to trap me in a room with the threat of being shot by an AirSoft gun if I tried to escape. They sting! So I was tortured for a while, finally escaped out the window, and made it to the Doran's. Tim gave me a wonderful Easter basket, and I gave him Clancy and lots of candy. Clancy was a hit despite his blatant depression. We had a great time with Doran's, played Spinners, then left for my family's Easter. This was also a blast. I have a great load of cousins, although mainly male. Tim played football, and I read on the couch as I did in my pudgy youth. We ended the night with a serious discussion of popular society and media.

Easter was great. Holy Saturday though was a different story. We attended the Easter vigil mass, which was beautiful! Tim and I fell into a discussion of past problems, which are capable of shaking both of our trust in each other and the relationship. The problems are nothing important or even worthy of ruining a great relationship, but we have been able to maintain such a high level of honesty and trust in each other, that sometimes small things seem worse than they are, simply because we have nothing truly terrible to deal with. So they came up again, as I have a horrendous habit of rehashing anything problematic semi-annually. We talked (yelled, cried, etc.), and I still love him, and he loves me. I learn more and more about the truth of love the further I get into it. True love is a choice to love another person for who they have been and are now, and who they can be in the future. I could never find someone who is fairy-tale perfect, but I think I got pretty darn close. Sorry ladies! Love is accepting the smidgens of things that are not exactly what you wanted or expected. Even harder is loving those things as a necessary part of the person whom you love. It is hard sometimes, but if you get as lucky as me, it isn't hard for long. So that night was tough. I went to bed late. That great Easter followed, but as soon as I returned home for the night, fatigue overwhelmed me. I had twitchy eyes and a headache. Tim did some homework, while I tried to nap. After an hour, I could hardly stand it,and I kicked him out crankily, and fled into my bed. I slept like a log and woke up with the blanket-squishing disease and red cheek to prove it. But all is well. I can't wait to see my guy tonight!! I hope everyone else had a great Easter.

Whirlwind

Life is an unexpected whirlwind. There are moments that I want to last forever, where everything is right and can only become even more right. There are other moments where everything comes crashing down on top of me. Life grabs us by our skinny throats and kicks us into something new and terrible. As I get older the situations where this happens are far more subtle. When I was younger, happiness was eating candy (for me lots of candy!), getting a new Polly Pocket, and reading horse books and young romance books (Jeanie and John!). Sorrow could only be attributed to bodily harm like when I scraped my knee up real good, while walkig my cat (Cruiser I) on rollerblades. I was on rollerblades, not the cat. I did have more serious troubles in youth. (I was pudgy.) But nothing major. Life goes on. Teenage years come and go. Mine were tumultuous for reasons beyond my control, but I prefer to overlook that now. And here I am, confident, smart, boyfriended, 20-year old. This was a point that I thought I would never reach (and still have only sort-of). I desperately wanted to be suave, slender, smart, and sauntering. Sauntering is hot! I always looked ahead towards the periods in life when my inevitable glamour would be released and I would become the sexy, but pure; smart, but humble; demure, yet outgoing; nonchalantly fashionable young woman that I knew I could be. Most of the dreams could only be accomplished if I lost my plague of baby fat and got a boyfriend. Then everything would fall into place. Even my fashion sense. Alas, not true. I am thinner now (room for improvement in tone though!!) and I have the most wonderful boyfriend out of any boys ever. Sorry, ladies, but I got the pick of the litter. And now that the whirlwind of the beginning if that relationship is over, and I have become settled in being "taken", "practically married", and one of the few girls of my friends in this postion, I have begun once again to look at myself, and what do I see? The same gir that I was. I didn't magically transform. I didn't grow the perfect voluminous hair and voluptuous bod. I still have pale skin in the winter. Seriously pale. My hair gets straggly. I get cranky. I wear shapeless sweatpants. And I hate shopping. I hate jeans. And I am still insecure, but in different, almost worse ways. I worry about the darndest things. I won't even tell you what they are because I can't quite understand it myself. I am so uncertain as to where I am headed at times, and at others I am fine. Now that I have all that I have ever wanted, I am forced to look at myself in a new way. Who are you? What do you want? Why? These questions have only one answer. God put me here to know, love, and serve Him in this world, and be happy with Him forever in the next. That's it? That's it. Find my calling, empty myself out, love, give, die. = happy Callie Find my calling? Go where I will give myself in the greatest way. For me, probably raising a family. Why? Because it will be hard for me and require my greatest gifts. My worries plague me though. Will I? Should I? Can I? Does He want me to? Do I want me to? Is this right? I still have a long way to go to become secure in my life. But I look in the mirror now and see myself, probably a bit prettier than I once was and a bit thinner, but mostly more mature. I have realized that love is not a fairy tale. It is a true calling. It is hard and sacrificial. It doesn't involve candlelight and swishy dresses. It is comfortable and devoted and fits like a well-worn shoe, never slipping off. It brings pleasure, yes. But mostly it brings us out of ourselves. It empties our reserves of selfishness. True love demands everything. And I want to give it.