Never [Being] Kissed

General Musing du Jour:



Sometimes I wonder if this is why I'm still checking off the "single" box?

Out With the Old...

I read this quote on a friend's profile:

in life we have two plans we can follow...the culture plan or GOD's plan. culture plan says to find your groove, settle & establish, earn & save, consolidate & maintain speed, & die...or you can choose to run towards GOD's plan...which is, 'follow me with abandon at every age with an eager expectation that I will use your life for MY purpose in the world. risk always. never completely settle, always look toward heaven for answers. be MINE. be different. die GLORIOUSLY!' - louie giglio

I am, I'll admit it, scared to no end these days. The things and places God is leading me towards have no clear set steps to follow. I just know I must go...

... even though the economy makes it very likely that finding a "good" job will be difficult.
... even though I know I will (and AM!) scared out of my mind at the possibility of failing.
... even if I am found crying and wounded in "failure."
... even if the little I've saved so far will slip through my fingers when push comes to shove.

I must go away from here. This place that has been home and familiar for all my congizant days. This place that has been the backdrop of who I was (am) becoming (thus far).

People tell me repeatedly to take that leap of faith, but fear and panic leaden my feet.

To move away from this city to another farther away - to go there with no place to live and no bread to win - is foolish and rash to those who are rational. [I know this because I was once one of them.] But given the option of pursuing my heart's desire (and His, hopefully!) or wasting away where I am... I would hope I'd run after the first and heed God's call to Gideon: "Be strong and courageous."

When Waking Up is the Hardest Part

I am coming to terms with the fact that I've not been chosen. Again.

I am limping and wounded, riding waves of self-deprecation, confusion, embarrassment, bitterness and numbness. (I rather like the numb moments lately)

I'm feeling my heart close up again. The brain is pouring grout on the cracks of my heart. Sealing it up. Shellacking it.

I so just want to shut down right now... And all my friends can say is, let it out.

Let it out. It's good for you. It hurts like hell, but it's good.

But I don't want to. The pain hurts too much.

I'd rather do without, thank you, if it's all the same to you.

Senses Fail

I cried last night. A lot. The deep, heaving kind. The kind that rushes over you without warning like a sudden storm over tranquil seas. It was a perfect storm as they say and it knocked my off my feet.

At the advice of Rebs, I took a long, hot shower, hoping it would wash him out. Praying the streams would dissolve these aches and wounds he'd caused. They didn't.


Today I am numb. I don't want to think or feel. Anything.

The songs I play to pass the time here at my desk are just noise. Empty. Without meaning. Without tune.

I don't want to eat, but I am, because I refuse to be that girl - the one who is lovesick and achey and wasting away. Sadly, though, when I eat, food has little taste. I eat to live even when I want parts of me to die.

My heart has short-circuited the rest of me.

My senses fail.

I am a walking ghost.

History in the Making (aka The Only Political Post You Will EVER See Here)

[I've been editing this while at work. Work has been BADDDD... Needless to say this blog will no doubt be choppy, confusing and hard to follow. Sorry!]


Tonight, we, as a united, free people, elected our next president. It was (and will remain) a pivotal moment in history.

I was encouraged by both candidates tonight: Senator McCain bowed out gracefully and encouraged his supporters to do the same. The hope and pure elation, the joyful disbelief and satisfaction on the faces of millions the world over, was emotional to say the least.

As the celebrations continued through the night and as many chanted "Yes, we did!"... an uneasy feeling settled in my heart. One that woke me in the middle of the night.

I could not help, but wonder if, in the midst of all the celebrations, we (God's people, Christ followers) had forgotten about His role here. To those who cheered "Yes, we did!" I wanted to remind them that we had done nothing in comparison to what He has done. And, I worry about the countless radicals out there in our land. I fear their reaction, but hope we all will learn to be open-minded and respect each other.

As excited as I am to have my choice for president in office (come January), and as amazing as it is to live in a time when we have proven to the world and our ancestors that anything is possible, I'm holding onto the hope that lies deep within me - the hope that relies on the sovereinty and wisdom of my Creator God. Without Him, our president will fail... no matter how motivated and talented in leadership he may be.

Republican. Democrat. Moderate. Conservative. LIberal. Left. Right. What does it matter in God's eyes? I'm looking to my God to grant our new leader the wisdom, strength, discernment, courage and sound mind he'll need to run a country in desperate need of change.

To My Mother on Her 52nd(?) Birthday

Dear Mom,

Today as the nation heads to the voting boothes and as the world waits in anticipation to witness history in the making, I look to you in thanks.

Thank you for the years of sacrifice. For the strength you've shown over the years - enduring a loveless marriage, single-parenting, second jobs to put us through school, for pushing aside your physical/emotional pains for our sake. You drive me crazy and make me want to run screaming in the opposite direction, but thank you for the (odd) way you love me (us).

Today, I pray for a good year. I know that you're worried and scared about the future, especially with the financial uncertainty you've faced this past year, but I beg you to remember that you are still under the watchful eye of a loving, faithful God. He has sustained and provided for you in the past and will do so now and in the years to come. Just hold onto Him. Trust Him. Lift your cares and worries to Him instead carrying this burden alone. It's not yours to bear. You are loved by your Jehovah Jirah, your gentle Shepherd, a loving Father.

I pray He grows you this year. That He'll stretch your faith. Whether or not you want to face it, your children are grown now. We will both be leaving soon (me sooner than you're prepared for). I pray the Lord continues to mold in you a strength and dependence on Him, and not me anymore. You are stronger, wiser and more capable than you think. And when you are not, He is, so don't worry.

I know you're still not physically as strong as you once were, and you probably won't be once the doctors give you the green light, but that's OK. Seek His strength when you are weak. Seek His hand when you've no strength to stand alone. Remember Christ suffers and bears this pain with you.

You are not alone, mom. You never will be.

I don't say this as much as I should, but... I love you. You drive me insane, but I love you.

Happy birthday, umma!


Your daughter,

Annie

Annie Queries

The fear that I could have something is almost as scary as the not having it at all.

Is this normal? Do you ever get this way? Or am I the lone passenger in this streetcar named Desire?

As Is

That's me in a nutshell. "AS IS."

Broken.
Scared.
Wanting.
Hoping.
Caring too much.
Heart on Sleeve.
Way too tapped into her emotions.
Weepy.
Angry.
Confused.
Heartbroken.

I'm just sitting in the Clearance Aisle.
A little busted up, but so wanting to be chosen.

EDIT: "If You're Not First, You're Last"

So says Ricky Bobby. And in a way, I think this sentiment holds true in my life.

I want everyone (all of you) to be happy... even at my expense. And in doing so - in wanting everyone to be fulfilled - I'm often left wanting. Waiting. Hoping. Crying. Alone. As much as I believe and long for all of you to find your heart's desires, I can't seem to find a way to mine.

Someone has been on my heart for some time. I have prayed for him and prayed over him. Prayed that God would draw him closer to Himself. That God would pour His mercy and grace upon him so that he would breathe in the freedom of trusting and loving his Savior. Prayed that God would do these things with/out regard for my heart or how it feels, but, for his sake above anything else.

Tears have been shed as I've tried to rationalize all of this. I had hoped that I could somehow spare myself the pain of not being chosen. Again. Hoped that my brain and reason would best my heart and its whirlwind of emotions.

Mission: FAILED









Last night my city, Philadelphia, had its first taste of victory in decades. The entire city erupted with joy. For years people held on with hope and for years were left heartbroken. And as the people crowded the streets breathing in victory, a small, pea-sized hope grew in me. A hope that maybe this time love would find me at last.

Today, however, I am confused and scared once again. The edges of my heart are fraying and hardening again. The cocoon is being built up again around the soft parts. And my heart is preparing to be let down again. To be discarded and turned down again.

I don't like this. The ambiguity and possible (probable) delusions of grandeur have me dizzy, crying and itching for answers. I want to know, but I don't.




Times like these, I wish we all could win.

Hi. My name is Annie and I'm an...

Yesterday, I cried and pleaded with God.

I was so drunk with thought, I became nauseous. My brain was spiky and the light hurt my bloodshot eyes. The world was spinning and I was shivering, suffering a hangover of sorts.

I'm in dire need of AA for the Heart.

I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself...

The heart - correction: my heart - is irrational.

I am, for the most part a person of reason and thought. I like to prepare for what's ahead and plan out the best course of action after mulling over the pros and cons. I'm a "just in case" kind of gal.

But when my heart is involved... even just a little bit? Fogettaboudit. It's all fogs and chaos and questions and roads that lead to Nowheresville.

*sigh* I don't know what to do. The brain rattles with thoughts. The heart aches for answers. And I am drifting as I try to find God's cool waters and rest.

These Photographs and the Mirror Has Two Faces

My mom tore up most of the photos of my dad after the divorce. I guess it was her way of forgetting about him and the pain he'd caused our "family."

A few years back while leafing through old photos, I came across one she'd missed. An old photograph of the two of us, daddy and me; of a tiny baby Annie, naked - save for my diaper - and laughing as I sat on my dad's lap. I took that photo and hid it. Partly to remember the dad I now mourn so... the one that disappeared years ago, and partly for my future children so they would at least know what their grandfather looked like... even if they would never meet him.





I am my father's daughter. I have his puffy, baggy eyes and his full-lipped smile. His round cheeks, short neck and stocky, muscular build. I have his chubby hands and feet that aren't graceful or lithe like a woman's hands should be, but strong and decisive and heavy. I am the female version of him. A clone in ways.

There are days when I can't bear to look in the mirror or at old elementary school pictures. Looking at my young face, I see his and it breaks my heart. And sometimes, I wonder if my mom has ever felt the same way as she looked at me. Wondered if she saw him, the man who had tore her heart to pieces, in me.

I see him, even when I don't.

There Goes My Hero...

A few days ago a friend and I had a LONG discussion on matters at the forefront of both our hearts. He shared his anger and frustration at the social injustices he witnessed all around: at work, on the streets, everywhere. It enraged him to see the poor slighted and dismissed, uncared for and forgotten. The growing chasm between the those in the upper echelons of the financial caste system and the poor breaks his heart. And yet... He was heartbroken and ashamed to say that he does nothing to help reconcile the situation. Another victim in a growing trend of self-preservation.

Where is God's justice?

If you have kept up with the news lately - in between the latest democratic-republican brawl for the white house - you may have learned that former American Idol contestant, Jennifer Hudson's mother and brother were murdered. (I've learned that police believe her young nephew was also believed to have been killed as well). Police believe an estranged and recently paroled family member may be the culprit. The reason for this killing spree? A car. A crappy, piece of metal and chrome.



Times like these I, too, wonder where God is and when He will bring about His righteous justice. Especially when His calling us to patience and trust results in so many people suffering. I just don't know.



Yesterday one of our assistant pastors , Jared, challenged us to believe and trust in the sovereignty of God. When things are grand and life is good. But, especially when times are rough and confusing and pain echoes in the faces of the people around us. Seek the greatness of God in these times.

Trust in His wisdom, not yours.
Trust that He will make right all that has gone so terribly wrong.
Trust His heart breaks, too.
Trust that He's coming, running, racing towards us (all of us) with grace and mercy in His hands.

He, the Great Judge, will set things right.

Just hold tight and wait... Hope is coming and redemption is in the air.

Avril Lavigne Has Me Down...

Why is it that I'm drawn to complicated things when all I want to do is to take the high and easy road?

Why do I have to go and make things so complicated?

Project: Runaway

I once asked a friend how she ended up in Philly. Having been raised here for most of my life, it was hard to believe why anyone would willingly come here of all places. She told me she needed a change of scenery.

Later on, however, she admitted she had come to Philly to run away from her hometown and from the skeletons that lurked about as constant reminders of issues and problems she wasn't quite ready to face.

Lately, I've had this need to run away myself. Not so much from problems, but towards something. To my detriment, I was (am) always sensible and reliable. The girl with the good head on her shoulders. The one who'll take care of her mom.

I don't want to be that anymore. I suffocate under these burdens. I thrash and recoil. I want to run for my life, but feel this unseen familial tether ground me.

On Friday (the most depressed I've ever been), I sat with my mom in the kitchen eating dinner. I ate in silence, forcing the food to go down, eyes studying my bowl of rice cake soup. And I wondered if this was my lot: to be at my mom's side.; her constant companion and the sponge to soak up all her concerns and distresses. I almost cried.

A few days ago, as I was exiting a nearby mall, I saw a woman in her late 50s pushing her elderly mother around in her wheelchair. It was obvious to me that theirs was a co-dependent relationship.

I watched them as the daughter wheeled her mother to their car. Listened as she spoke. Observed my current situation plus 25 years traverse across the parking lot and drive away to an all-too-familiar life.

I watched and felt my heart sink deep into the waters of hopelessness. Lord, surely THIS isn't the life you are calling me to? I can't. I need to be free from this, Lord, as selfish as it is, I want my own life. To be happy and loved. To do things at my leisure. To live.

I cannot walk any longer in these filial daughter shoes that my heritage seems to have bound my feet in. I cannot. Will not. And come hell or high waters or the scorn of my family, I will escape from this. For my mom's sake and for my own.

The Sound of Silence

Me: Hello blog. How are you today?
ANNIBELLE: ...
Me: Hello? Is anyone there? I have so much I need to talk to you about! Please respond!
A: ...
Me: Please?
A: ...
Me: Fine. Whatever. Hmph. [Storms out]
A: ?

[end scene]

All in the Family

I just skimmed through an article on MSN today about how birth order effects one's success.

After reading the articles findings on First-Borns, I'm beginning to wonder if I have older siblings out in the world somewhere or if I'm adopted because nothing could be farther from the truth. I'm more akin to the personality-type of the youngest sibling (minus the "wanting to be the center of a attention" thing).

[You can read more on the article here]

Dumb

For days now I have needed some outlet for what's in here (points to heart and head), this low, barely audible, almost subliminal droning and moaning I can feel agitatingly pulsing within.

Sitting at my piano and tickling the ivory keys left me unfulfilled. And, strumming my guitar made me wish I knew more chords since the song that needs to be released in me is in minor and flats [Unfortunately, I know mainly bright, happy major chords.] My fingers betray their duty.

I want to draw or paint, but cannot: Hesitation and a lack of inspiration cripples me. I think the only things that will result are sad stick figures, barren trees and homeless puppies.

I write and nothing makes sense and sounds just sooooooo melodramatic and depressing, I want to delete/cross-out/tear into little itty-bitty pieces/trash EVERYTHING.

I guess this is what people call a funk, eh?

I Wanna Hold Your Ha-a-and

[Like many previous posts, the following makes absolutely no sense. At all. You have been forewarned. Continue reading at your own discretion]

Most days I forget that I'm a woman.

Let me clarify for those of you who are perplexed: I forget the "womanly" parts and needs within.

Lately I've stared at my hands. Studied them. Wondered if someone will ever hold them or if they'll be as empty as they are now for all my days.

This sense of longing and wanting I just can't describe pulses through my entire being. These feelings invade and corrupt every part of me like foreigners in a land whose inhabitants and daily goings-on I'd known and expected.

Yet these hands, my hands are the most sorry casualties of this emptiness I feel lately. They feel hollow. Unwanted. Without a home.


They suffer from the seven (plus 23) year itch, I suppose.

Please Clarify.

Over the past several weeks people have mentioned how I have a good head on my shoulders. I have no idea what that means.

Please clarify.