Oh boy....

So tired.... Too much homework....

I have to write a paper this weekend. But after that's done, I only have 4 major papers left for the semester.

Love,
~MJ

Advil PM

I learned that Advil PM is not the thing to take if you only have 8 hours.

I woke up this morning and took a shower. Then I brushed my teeth. Apparently, somewhere in there, I went into the living room and grabbed my shoes and took them into the kitchen and put them on the floor. After brushing my teeth, I went to put my shoes on and I couldn't find them. I had to go downstairs and find another pair, which would have been extremely uncomfortable to wear since I was working 12 hours between 3 jobs today. When I got upstairs, I spotted my shoes in the kitchen. I have no memory of picking them up from the living room at all.

It was a rough day. I almost vomited at the library. I felt so nauseous.... But the library job is going to rock. I get to close the library 4 days a week. I get to be escorted through all 4 floors by a Rent-a-Cop every night (they say it's not safe for me to be going to the various floors to lock up all alone....) and I get to make the closing announcement. How cool is that?

By the time I got to DQ, I was shaking. I felt awful.... After I stopped running around and did nothing but stir water into the butterscotch for a while, I stopped shaking and calmed down. Later, I went to the bathroom, and I swear, I used the last of the toilet paper and there were no paper towels. I told S. this and she went to look for some. After a minute, she came back and said, "MJ, both the toilet paper and the paper towels are completely full." I swear.... I used the last scrap of toilet paper and I turned the handle on the paper towel thing both ways and nothing happened. After a minute I said, "Shucks.... Maybe I was in the men's room...."

That's how strange my day was....

I worked at Commons too. Between the three jobs, I pretty much worked from 9:45 this morning until 9:45 tonight. Commons was boring. I almost died. I had only one check-in in the entire time I was there. I got paid $8 an hour to sit and crochet. I said something brilliant to my brother in a text message: "No one can altar God's will, but they can manipulate things to ultimately cause something less than God's will to happen." Yeah.... I typed it in and then I was like, "Dude, I think I said something really smart...."

It was a kind of difficult time at Commons. I felt so alone.... Kind of like I always felt when I lived on campus. Like everyone saw me but no one KNEW me and worse, no one even cared. Jess and a bunch of RAs were talking in the office and none of them even acknowledged that I was there. After they all left (and still didn't acknowledge that I was there), I cried. I'm not kidding. I think it was good that moved off campus when I did. It's not like it's a terrible place. It's just that this statement is very true of that place: There's no lonlier place than a big crowd in a city." You basically only have friends if you're Res. Life staff, an athlete, homecoming royalty or are part of the party scene. Everyone else is a loser. I pretty much hate it. It made me so sad....
~MJ

Terrible Day

When I was a wee little lassie, my mom used to read a book to me and my brothers entitled "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." The book begins, "I went to bed with gum in my mouth. Now there's gum in my hair." It goes on to describe all the terrible things that happen -- like having a tooth filled at the dentist, having the ice cream part fall off his strawberry ice cream cone -- and land in Australia -- and not getting to get cool sneakers, simply because his feet were the wrong size. I don't remember much about this story, except that someone keeps telling him, "Some days are like that. Even in Australia."

I thought of this story today.

I was almost late for work. Then, I had to do the entire opening list by myself because Nick refused to help. He just stood there and watched. Then Nick went in the back and I was the only person up front, so I had to finish the list AND help all the customers. If you're the only person, you can do one or the other, but you can't do both.

I told C. that I wasn't going to do another thing on the list because I shouldn't have to do everything around there and he said, "You can bag the DQ Sandwiches and Busters." I told him that I had asked Nick to do the second half of the list and that he had refused, and C. said, "Nick. Go bag the DQ Sandwiches and Busters." Nick was happy to oblige.

I was thinking, "Chauvinistic pig!"

And I had to finish the list anyway.

I could have kicked Nick in the balls.

To make a bad day worse, the blizzard machine kept flinging ice cream at me. It's normal to encounter stray spatters here and there, but this was different. It wasn't just spatters. It was globs. I could have cried. One of the first things I made was a shake. When I got the ice cream soft enough, I turned the speed up just a little bit and the shake went everywhere. I had ice cream running down my front, ice cream in my hair, ice cream on my face and even ice cream in my eye. I don't know how I managed to get ice cream in my eye without getting any on my glasses, but I did....

Nick continued to do nothing most of the day. Whenever something ran out, I'd go over to S. and I'd say, "I dare you to ask Nick to fill that...." And we'd both giggle hysterically. Cuz we know that he won't.

Nick makes me sick. I mean, he gets paid as much as me, and most of the time he just stands around. I work WAY harder than he does. It's NOT fair....

At around 3:00, S. and I were running around trying to get everyone taken care of, and I said, "Where's Nick?" S. said, "I don't know...." I spotted him sitting at a table full of people. When we got some more customers, I hollered out, "Nick. It's time to WORK. It's NOT time to sit." He came running in a hurry.

After the rush, S. told him that he could leave. He said, "But it's busy...." S. said, "Yes, but I know we can handle it because we've been working all day without your help. We'll be fine."

Nick was furious. Furious enough to do something. He worked really well for the last hour and a half. Unfortunately, I know his personality well enough to know that he didn't do it out of some kind of bizarre conviction about the need to work for his pittance. He did it because no one is going to tell HIM what to do. If he doesn't want to go home, he's not going to go home. It's really kind of ridiculous. It hurt his pride to be told to go home when it wasn't dead.

He argued about it with S. for a while, which was really petty and ridiculous.

The rest of the day was better. Until about 4:45. To make a worse day rotten (to quote Mr. what's-his-face whose name I can't remember from the story entitled "Mr. What's-His-Face and the Comparative and the Superlative"), the Jehovah's Witness dudes came in. One of them was totally checking me out. I felt kind of dirty and gross. I was like, "Sorry buddy.... I'm not turned on by business apparel from the 70s and those cutsey little JW name badges."

He paid with EBT, which was even more of a turn-off for me. I prefer a guy who is able to purchase his fast food without public assistance.

Just before 5, I was telling S. about the JW dude that was checking me out and she said, "Oh? Hey, he goes to church...." And I was like, "No, no, no, S!" No! A million times no! That church is BAD. And she agreed. During all this discussion, it got to be 5:00 and then it was 5:03 and none of the evening people were there yet.

I went to investigate and J. said, "We were waiting for you to tell us to come." He told me that he got so used to my telling them to punch in that they can't do it without my permission now. I could have kicked J. in the balls too. If they're responsible enough to have a job, they should be responsible enough to not need to be told when to punch in.

All I can say is "Some days are like that. Even in Australia."
For Pete's sake.
Love,
~MJ

Eeee!

I got to pray with someone to ask Jesus into her heart tonight! Yay!
Love,
~MJ

Another Lie Goes Down the Drain

I feel as if I've been liberated.

It really didn't take much.

Today at church, we had a girl who had been in Turkey for 10 months share about her time there. She talked a lot about Islam and their beliefs. It was pretty neat. I have an interest in what exactly people of the Muslim faith believe because I work with a Muslim girl and there are quite a few Muslims around school.

Before church, my pastor asked me if I would be willing to help serve communion. The worship team used to do music during communion, but now we have a solo worship leader that does music at the end of the services, so I don't have to be on stage anymore. I was like, "Sweet!"

When I was growing up, we went to a church that suppressed women. They almost put Islam to shame with their whole "women are trash" theology. Ok, so I'm exaggerating. But it wasn't exactly fun to be part of that church if you were female. In that church, only men were allowed to stand or to speak in the services. Only men could pass the communion elements. I don't know this for sure, but it seemed as if women weren't even allowed to touch the silver communion wine (um.... juice....) plate thingy or the fine china plate that held the bread. It was pretty intense.

Often when I'm asked to do something that this particular church didn't sanction, I may agree to do it, but only with great fear and trembling, remembering exactly how it was looked upon at this church. I knew the rules of the church were ridiculous in my HEAD, but I had been lied to so much that it had become a deep, deep part of me. Even though I didn't believe it, I couldn't separate myself from it.

But for some reason, today wasn't one of those times. I didn't even think about it. I just said, "Sure...."

After E. had finished sharing about Turkey, my pastor got up and called me and 5 other girls to come forward to serve communion. He said that the reason he had asked us is because he believes that God wants to acknowledge His desire to use women in service and ministry, and He desires to liberate women from the bondage of the lie that they are somehow less than men, simply because they're female.

Those weren't his exact words, but that's what I got out of what he said.

And I just about busted out bawling.

Finally, after all these years, I can believe -- really believe -- what I always knew was true. I needed a public affirmation of the very things that I so strongly believed, but was too afraid to live.

Another lie goes down the drain. Hallelujah!
Love,
~MJ

Some thoughts

I've had a few conversations about marriage lately.

People keep telling me to not even go there.

I only know what is in my heart, and in my heart is to go there.

It makes me so sad when people say I shouldn't "go there." I don't have to "go there." It's like I'm "there" already. I don't have to transcend a distinguishable mental barrier in order to "go there." I don't dwell on it. It's not on my mind 24/7. But it's such a part of who I am that not going there isn't exactly an option. If I wanted to "not go there," I'd have to have something removed in order to "not go there." It would take some kind of emotional or mental surgery.

I don't think that would be a good thing.

Sometimes I wonder if God is playing a cruel joke on me. I've laid this thing at His feet. If He asks me to be single forever, then so be it. I might not enjoy the idea of being single forever, but you know, it would be ok. But I've asked Him to take the desire away if He had no intention of letting me have it. He hasn't taken it. Sometimes I feel like God is saying "You know what? Just because I'm God and I can, I'm going to make you be single for the rest of your days -- but I'm not going to take the desire for marriage away."

That one's a cheap trick.

I suppose this is one of those "Feelings aren't reality" moments. Thank God....

This all came up, first of all, because I was at Perkins with S. and I commented that the host was a pretty good-looking guy. To make a long story short, I had to explain to S. that just because a guy is good-looking, it doesn't mean that I want to date him, go to bed with him, marry him, or necessarily even talk to him. It just means that I have an appreciation for his aesthetic qualities.

After S. left, I sat in the smoking section with R. for a very long time. And I declared afterward that I would NOT lose my voice. (And I didn't.)

Generally, people tell me one of two things on the topic of marriage. I either get "Girls don't _______, they get married and have babies," or I get "Don't go there." There's no middle ground there. I haven't heard the first one in a long time -- like, basically since my parents started talking to me again. (All the other people that used to say those things pretty much don't talk to me anymore.)

R. was different. I think he's the only person who has ever said something along the lines of "don't pursue IT, but pursue God and pursue God IN it." Meaning, go after God, but ask Him stuff like, "Ok, so what do you want to do in ME that will get me there?" and "What exactly would I look for if I was looking?"

It might seem strange for me to be talking to a guy in the smoking section about it, but R. is R. and he's cool and he's totally easy to talk to. About basically anything. He's kind of like having an older brother.

Last night, someone told me to "not go there" again. That was sad.

And today, I got an invitation to a wedding. My friend is more than 2 years younger than me and the guy looks like he's probably 30-35 years old. It made me sad. Not because she's getting married, but because it's most likely one of those arranged marriage deals. I know this because I know her and her family pretty well. She was never allowed to associate with people except for the ones that her parents chose for her to be friends with. It's kind of like on Legally Blonde. Her Dad "woke up one morning and decided" 'I think I'll go find someone for my daughter to marry today.' (I don't say this out of maliciousness -- that's just how it works for my friend.) I'm kind of sad for her. That sort of arrangement is so.... unbeautiful. I think I'd cry if I went to that wedding.

At any rate, last night, I was thinking about the whole issue of marriage. I was trying to figure out why I want to get married anyway. I mean, it's not like I've had super-great role models that made it look awesomely spectacular. My parents pretty much hated each other for the longest time.... (The more recent role models are better though....) I could only conclude that the desire has to be God. It has to be something that God put in me for some divine purpose that I don't necessarily understand right now. Then I thought, "Well, what do I hope to accomplish through it?" Actually, not a whole lot. I don't want to get married because if I was married, I could say I was married. Whoop-de-do. So what? I s'pose if I got married, I could have sex. Eh, that's not even a reason, really. I could have babies. But yeah. I could have babies before I got married if I REALLY wanted to. (I don't....)

After much.... soul searching.... I came up with this:

Marriage is a state of completeness. It's God and man and woman, all entwined in such a way as to make one out of the three. It's equality and harmony. It's companionship. It's affection and romance and even passion sometimes. It's beauty and pain and pleasure and love and sacrifice. But more than anything, it is being complete. It's three parts that can function alone, but function differently, and sometimes, better, together.

It's not status or a sense of belonging that I long for. It's completion.
Love,
~MJ