Attention, K-Mart Shoppers!

Blue light special in Aisle 4: Somewhat nice and sorta funny girl is on the market. She's up for the taking. [Any takers?]



Over the past weekend I've been told twice how I'm such a good catch. First, on Saturday when one of my childhood friends told me I am the "girl guys marry" (this she said shortly after I inquired about the new relationship she's in). Then, just yesterday (Sunday), an older sister from the church I left told me that "all the guys are blind" and wondered why some nice boy had yet to snatch me up. Sometimes, I wonder, too.

It's odd, this phase of life. Slowly, but surely, I see my (often younger) friends coupled off, married and having kids. Then, I look at my life and sigh. I had thought by the age of 30 (almost... let's not talk about this quite yet... I'm still in denial), I'd be married and having my 2nd or 3rd child by now. Obviously, that's not the case.

Love and marriage are the topics of the moment in my circle of gal pals. There are so many beautiful, smart, loving, kind, generous, God-fearing-and-loving women I am blessed to know. So many. But, here we are...

Waiting.
Primping.
Flirting.
Praying.
Making ourselves available.
Being open and flexible.
Wanting and trying to be patient.
Living and embracing singleness.
Watching the clock tick and slowly steal our dreams with each second.

One older sister, shared that now, in her mid-40s, her dreams of having a family of her own are gone and that she's wrestling with the realization that she'll just have to learn to deal and re-form her dreams. And, I wonder if I'll find myself there.

In all honestly, I am really awkward. When around guys I'm remotely attracted to, I start to feel unhinged, uncomfortable in my body. It's like puberty all over again. [Fortunately, for me, I'm not currently eye-ing anyone.]

I run away. But blindly, like a bat in the light of day. I don't know what it means to "flirt"... unless that weird giggling-and-wanting-to-be-in-the-vicinity-of-my-target thing I do can be constituted as flirting. And, to top it all off, I am completely illiterate when it come to reading signals. I'm pretty much hopeless when it comes to this whole thing.

Despite all this, even as disarming and foreign it all is, I want to find my someone. To have someone wrap his arms around me when I'm cold or sad or scared. Someone to tell my deepest secrets and fears to, things I'm too afraid or self-conscious to say in public. Someone who makes me feel utterly at ease and confident, unafraid and unguarded. Someone to challenge me and push me to do the things I'm only strong enough think.

Ugh... It's all so confusing and unnerving and frustrating. Frustrating in the way the good guys are just too shy to make a move. Or too blinded by the bevy of smiley size-2 girls who daintily frolic about like doe-eyed deer when on a good day I feel like a turtle or an old tree-stump.

I just want to eat chocolate, stay in my pajamas and watch sappy dramas now.

*sigh*

The Namesake

All our lives we've been told to aim high. To take strides to be "who you want to be." Be free. Be your own man. "Live life" as American Eagle reminds us. Millions buy self-help books in hopes of unlocking some hidden treasure within - a thinner, prettier, more successful, balanced, Feng Shui version of the person they already are.

We strive. We work our fingers to the bone to get the corner office, the fancy cars, the 4-bedroom tudor in the best part of the suburbs, send our kids to the best schools so they can, in turn, get the corner office. And the fancy cars. And the 4-bedroom tudor in the best part of the city.

We want to be accepted. Popular. Included yet exclusive. Admired. Loved. Relied upon. Needed.



We want to make a name for ourselves. To leave a mark. Our mark.



Today Geoff gave a sermon based on the second chapter of Daniel. He challenged all of us (I HATE/LOVE when he does this, BTW) to re-consider ourselves. To check ourselves. Our motives. Our efforts. Our concepts of identity. To inspect the foundations we have built our lives upon.

Are you building the kingdom of self? A world without God?

We are all shaping, forming, creating. Daily. In the decisions we make, in the lives of those around us. In the day-to-day things that seem so mundane. They (the daily decisions/experiences of life) are the Legos and mortar of this temple (us).

These past few months as I've relished the thought of moving away from here, from this insanity I have learned to call "life", I've struggled and wrestled with my thoughts. A lot.

I have wondered if this desire to move to Nashville that I've been so longing to do for an eternity, is a part of God's plans or hashed out of my tired, little brain and dire circumstances. I wonder why I feel this pull, why I want to go. So badly.

And in light of Geoff's sermon this morning, I am left confused. Bewildered. Stuck.
I wonder if these decisions I make - the experiences, the wishing and hoping and praying for relief - are simply my idols of the day, or if there's something real. Are they made of holy matter refined in God's fires and formed by His hands? Or are they my poor clay and dirt creations? My kindergarten attempts at creating the art in me?

I know I don't belong here. At least, not for the moment. But, where? And when?

Bon Jovi-isms

Being in the Northeast, you'll come across many a Jon Bon Jovi fan. I, fortunately, am not one of them. [I'll elaborate on this later. Just hang tight for a moment.]

Over the past few weeks, perhaps months, I have heard a voice speaking from the depths. A whisper that I have tried to tune out with my constant ramblings. It's been sticking in my ears, clogging them like the pool water that lingers after a swim. And, I try desperately to push them out. Hopping around, hoping for the relief from the exodus of these unwelcome thoughts.

You're life is not your own.

I hear it everywhere.

At church in my pastor's weekly sermons. Messages that feel like a punch in the gut - completely out of the blue and knocking the wind out of me.

At work, while I'm trying (and failing) to find sanity. And wondering how life could have steered me so wrong, so far away from where and who I thought I'd be.

At our weekly Home Groups, where the discussion of the day is discipline for self to find ourselves in a deeper love and obedience to the Father.

At home as I read the Bible. [Refreshing, humbling, punch-in-the-gut moments in their own right. Moments I've missed for a lifetime.]

And daily as I come across life in general.

Your life is not your own, Annie.

YET...

The song that keeps playing in my head and in my heart of hearts is that all-too-familiar Bon Jovi "hit", the chorus of which is the battle cry of this generation.

[Here's where that Bon Jovi reference makes sense. Sorta]

It's my life

It's now or never

I ain't gonna live forever

I just want to live while I'm alive

(It's my life)

My heart is like an open highway

Like Frankie said

I did it my way

I just wanna live while I'm alive

It's my life

All my life I've been having a shout-out with God. Trying to see whose song would be louder, find more airplay, and for all my life I think I did a pretty good job of fooling myself.

But now (NOW)... Ugh.


With today's sermon still ripe in my memory, I find myself struggling. It's uncomfortable, this change. I'm going through some growing pains here, people. And, Annie no likey!

Just One of Them Days...

THIS is how I'm feeling today...

Interpret as you will.

Visine: Get the [Rage] Out

Today my eyes are bloodshot. Swollen. I have old turtle eyes, wrinkly and puffy and shiny from a night of crying on Sarah W's shoulder (figuratively) about the crap at work and how it is shaking my faith, racking me with guilt, weighing on my shoulders. Literally. Even now as I sit here typing, I feel as though someone is physically pressing down on my shoulders.

I have been hunched over for 3 days now. I have, at best, a vulture's posture.

I am (almost) at my wits end here. My patience, unlike my tummy, is thin. On a good day I am just agitated and bearing through the day. On a bad day, however? Stand back, as I'm most likely to be enraged, barely able to keep myself from throwing/punching/kicking something.

I have never felt this way in my life. Not even when my dad left and people (some family members included) looked down at our "broken, failure of a family".

And, I am lost. At a loss for words. With no viable direction or solution to follow. Stuck. Strangled. Gasping. Wondering how on earth I found myself here. Wondering why God could (would) allow me to "endure" this situation and why He won't come to my rescue. At least not in the ways I want Him to. Need Him to. Am pleading Him to.

I want Him to magically whisk me away. Bring His fiery chariots and carry me to some place better.

But, He won't. At least not in the ways I want Him to. Because He is God and I am not. And though life SUCKS right now, I have to somehow believe that He's still in control. Still redeeming the day/my life. Still watching over me closely, even when it feels like I'm so far beyond His watchful eye and protection.

And until He does come to the rescue. I'll have to engrave Psalm 55 on my heart.

Psalm 55

For the director of music. With stringed instruments. Amaskil of David. ^[a]

1 Listen to my prayer, O God,
do not ignore my plea;

2 hear me and answer me.
My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught

3 at the voice of the enemy,
at the stares of the wicked;
for they bring down suffering upon me
and revile me in their anger.

4 My heart is in anguish within me;
the terrors of death assail me.

5 Fear and trembling have beset me;
horror has overwhelmed me.

6 I said, "Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest-

7 I would flee far away
and stay in the desert;
Selah

8 I would hurry to my place of shelter,
far from the tempest and storm."

9 Confuse the wicked, O Lord, confound their speech,
for I see violence and strife in the city.

10 Day and night they prowl about on its walls;
malice and abuse are within it.

11 Destructive forces are at work in the city;
threats and lies never leave its streets.

12 If an enemy were insulting me,
I could endure it;
if a foe were raising himself against me,
I could hide from him.

13 But it is you, a man like myself,
my companion, my close friend,

14 with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship
as we walked with the throng at the house of God.

15 Let death take my enemies by surprise;
let them go down alive to the grave, ^[b]
for evil finds lodging among them.

16 But I call to God,
and the LORD saves me.

17 Evening, morning and noon
I cry out in distress,
and he hears my voice.

18 He ransoms me unharmed
from the battle waged against me,
even though many oppose me.

19 God, who is enthroned forever,
will hear them and afflict them—
Selah
men who never change their ways
and have no fear of God.

20 My companion attacks his friends;
he violates his covenant.

21 His speech is smooth as butter,
yet war is in his heart;
his words are more soothing than oil,
yet they are drawn swords.

22 Cast your cares on the LORD
and he will sustain you;
he will never let the righteous fall.

23 But you, O God, will bring down the wicked
into the pit of corruption;
bloodthirsty and deceitful men
will not live out half their days.
But as for me, I trust in you.

Office Space

Today was horrible. I will not sugar-coat it for you at all.

Abusive words were directed towards me because of my crazy coworker, the she-clone of my insane boss, and her failure to check over her work (that I had to do).

This continued on throughout the day. More pressure for me to "cooperate" and "help the team" while she sat in her office doing who knows what, taking countless cigarette breaks and personal calls, grunting whenever more than one phone line rang and exclaiming her retarded "OH MY GOD!", yet doing absolutely nothing to help.

Today, I made it known - in less subtle ways that before - that... I DO NOT LIKE HER.

• I don't like how she strolls into the office at 10:30 or 11 with her stupid excuses.
• I do not like how she lies and tries poorly to cover them up.
• I HATE that she NEVER listens, nor gives anyone the time or respect to LET THEM FINISH TALKING before she rambles.
• I do not like the obnoxious way she chews. So audibly. It's like listening to a cow chewing gum and cud at the same time.
• I do not like how she eavesdrops and gets into things that have NOTHING to do with her.
• I do not like how she checks up on me, stares AT ME as she's walking by, thinks that anything on my desk is up for grabs for her reading/reviewing.
• I do not like how she makes promises to her clients without consulting me, the "graphics design department", if I: a) am able to do it; or b) that I have the time to do it.
• I do not like how she can't focus, spending no more than 10min at her desk doing her work.
• And, I hate that she gets commission for the work that I do, simply because she's in "sales" and I'm a lowly administrative assistant.
  

My conflict with SheClone has been ongoing. Pretty much since the day she started working at the office. It was barely bearable to work under my insane boss, BUT to have 2 of them? Impossible. It's like hell on earth sometimes with their ridiculous shenanigans.

I have struggled with the guilt of not being Christlike in patience or compassion. (Sometimes I still do). I am angry and short-fused. A lot. I have had violent thoughts race through my mind. Thoughts of inflicting physical harm.

I don't like this me.

Over these past months, almost every friend (real and imaginary) has advised me, PLEADED with me, to please find another job.

But, I am scared of the unknown. Afraid to struggle. Terrified of being turned down for positions. Especially with the economy and the job market as shaky as they are.

So, my dear, beloved friends: I ask for your help. For prayers (LOTS of prayer!). For advice. For encouragement and pearls of wisdom. For help in finding another job and interviewing (again). Help me push this door closed and lock it so I can see the windows God is opening (hopefully) along the periphery.

Oh, the Places (I wish to ) Go.

Some places on my radar:

1. Africa *sigh*

The Pope St. Victor has divulged over FB chat that he's going on a trip to Africa for work. Some countries on his itinerary: Uganda and Rwanda.

If you know what God has been laying on my heart these past few months/years, you know how jealous I am. As Rachel Zoe puts it, "Omigosh, I could DIEEEEEE!"



2. Saint Naum Church, Macedonia


I need to go here. See it. Experience it. Breathe in the ancient things. Ponder the great thoughts, speeches, sermons given. Touch the weathered stone. Inhale the remnants of incense from generations ago.


More to come later...

Urine Trouble, Mister

So, I just got back a short while ago from the gym. Ran a wee bit til my knee started making it's voodoo signs that it was time to stop torturing it. Did some ab/tricep/back work and headed down to the pool to finish up the remainder of my workout.

I swam next to a guy. He was in the other lane. I'm pretty sure he peed in the pool towards the end of his set because I swam into very warm waters. But, I continued to swim, pushing that disgusting thought to the lower parts of my conscious, hoping they'd get lost in the abyss, trying my best not to gag.

After my set of laps, I went into the whirlpool where I'd hope the hot water and jets would blast off any remnant of pool water.

I really want to rinse my mouth out with Clorox right now and have an urge to talk to the front desk people there about who they're letting into the gym. In the course of 3 days I've had my towel stolen, only to be found hanging in the men's shower room, and, I've been made to swim in suspect waters.

Maybe I'll look into scuba gear for my next trip. That or a hazard suit.

*gag*

Fast Food

Today (Thursday, September 11th) my entire church is fasting. We're asking God to rebuild this city and use us, His bride.

The thing is: I work for a catering company. The kitchen is on site. The perfume of spices, the fragrance of meats grilling and caramelizing fill the air. I am growing faint/crazy with hunger. In an hour or so, I'm pretty sure I'll be lurking around like some rabid dog, a look of crazed delerium on my face, a blank, googly-eye look in my eyes.

*sigh*

It's going to be a long day. Literally. I've been called to rep for MOCHA tonight and probably won't be home till about 11:30pm or so. [Lord, help me!]

I just hope my brain and the synapses between it, my mouth and conscious remain intact long enough, so that I'm not some driveling idiot tonight.

Today, coffee will be my drug of choice. Lots and lots of coffee.

Oh, Lord, help me... It's going to be a very. long. day.

EDIT: I survived an entire day of fasting... Thank you, Lord. Thank you for coffee and water and Kombucha's mysterious entities that rev-ed up the ol' system and saw me through to the end of the show last night.

I bought food on my way home. I will not divulge from where to spare my thighs and tummy the guilt. Suffice it to say, the "golden arches" were involved. Waited til past midnight like the good, little Cinderella that I am, and ate. It was not as satisfying as I thought it would be (at 12:15am).

Today, I am bloated and unfocused.

And, I want a cookie.

A-Has and Dohs!

Lately my pastor, Geoff, has been giving some hard-hitting sermons. I don't like it. I mean, I do. I love that the Word is opening up new worlds and unlocking pieces of my heart that I didn't know existed. It's just, well... I could do without them. I'm much too comfortable where I am, you see. And life just always seem to be a bit easier when you're only looking out for number one after all.

This past Sunday we concluded our sermon series on Acts (the first church). The sermon ripped at every part of my carefully constructed bubble. It bore through the layers I'd let build around me. Layers of selfishness, pride, ignorance and delusions of grandeur that I am at the center of my life, that I am the main character in this story called "Me."

Obedience is giving up your independence.

[Doh!]

And once again I'm left to face the mirror of truth - to see the ugliness within and ask for the forever redeeming showers of grace to wash over me and flood my senses. Let my eyes of my heart focus on you, the world at large (broken and redeemed souls alike). Let its reaches extend past this flesh and out. To you. To her. To him. To them.

TGIF (Thank God It's Friday!!!)

I am groggy. Tired.

My brain hurts.

Last night I passed out shortly after 3am, while in the midst of meditating/praying over Proverbs 4. An hour or so later I awoke, dazed and confused and fumbling towards the door to turn off the light switch. I stumbled towards my bed to crash for the night, only to be stirred awake by a strange rattling and banging and closing of an old and heavy car door. Dizzy, I peered out my bedroom window to find to men in the back alley, packing up an old pick-up truck, making no attempts at courtesy to an entire city block of sleeping people. I glared at them, cursing them with my dizzy, fuzzy thought and followed them as they packed themselves into the truck and drove away.

It's now 10:30am. There is a slow, numbing throbbing in my head and down the side of my neck. I feel especially heavy and rusted - like an engine in dire need of a tune-up. [Reminder to self: Dino needs an oil change and tire rotation. AND, you're out of toothpaste.]

Thank God it's Friday!