Smitten

Author's note: It's been a day since I've written the post below. I know now that there is a lot more going on in my life than simply this - a sick mother, the prospect of moving from my life, not simply to start a new one, but to take care another's life. Much of the tension that I describe below does not simply stem from my own insecurites regarding relationships, but from a vunerability that I will have as a caretaker of someone who has traditinally taken care of me. I know that at times, my heart will break for me and my family, and I do not want to add another depth to that. But, with that being said, and like I said before: I give up. Thanks for reading!

I have to admit, I'm smitten. It's terrible. I'm all fluttery and can't eat and everything. I'm not sure I like it. I even had to have some Alka-seltzer.

Contemplating this state makes me question so many different areas that I have explored in the past. For example, I have always advocated that love is a choice, that although we allow our feelings to influence us, it is still our choice to be in that relationship. This opinion has prevented me from enjoying the pleasures of infatuation. But, when did I recently choose to let my feelings do the driving instead of my mind? I'm not used to allowing this to happen and it's throwing me all off-kilter. Ack!

My roommate asks me - what's so bad about it? It is simply not my normal operating mode. True, I am living on the edge - will he call, should I text, will he put his arm around me, should I stand that close to him? - and that's a little exciting. It makes that first kiss all that much more sensational, it makes whatever he says perfect, but it makes me scrutinize my every move. I send a text that could be construed as pushy, will he take it that way? Is my outfit cute enough, I wonder how he'd feel about a skirt or dress? I mean, does he really like me? Will we really see each other again? And if he does, why hasn't he tried to contact me again? Ack!

I guess my biggest concern, though, is there are some fundamental differences between us that make me wonder if this is ok. Letting my feelings go as they are right now gives me a fear of what will happen if they remain unfulfilled. Is my heart going to break? It's happened twice and I was devastated both times. So much so that I refuse to speak to one even though he will call incessantly whilst nearby. It draws up so much hurt to see him and know that we should not be together. I don't want that to happen again.

And yet, I have no worries hanging out. When I'm with the guy with whom I am smitten, it's ok. My feelings are fine and I'm confident that it will all work out for the better in the end. Is that what people are looking for? The idea that with this one person (and trust me, I'm not putting all my eggs in one basket here) it just might work out. I might actually share a piece of my heart that does not often get dusted off and used. And even if it gets put back on the shelf, it will still be ok, for the best.

Now, if this attitude will permeate the rest of my life...

Reflections on faith, or lack therof

Sometimes, I think that I am perceived as a "bad" Christian. Tonite, I was on the train with my friend, having a somewhat intense theological discussion. We look over and the guy next to us is reading his Bible. Clearly this guy was military. Anyway, he jumps in when we get to the point of Old Covenant vs. New Covenant. I pretty much said "isn't it all the same covenant?" To which my friend, a believer no longer, agreed. I think we stumped the guy a little bit. Then he really stumped me because he began talking about the end of all things, which is not my strong point AT ALL. There was one point of complete and utter silence, but it was right after he talked about judgement day. But, if we took all the Scriptures about judgement day and put them together, I don't think that you can make a cohesive theory of what is going to happen. Even if you use the excuse of God's grace - I know he is a graceful God, yadda yadda, and will "have compassion on who He has compassion" - to explain true seekers without knowing Christ, it does not complete the cycle. There are just some things we cannot fully know, because God has chosen not to reveal.



I've been thinking about this interaction- big surprise, right? I think because I come from a seeminly less rational place, which I actually think is more rational, because it is based on experience, I may be perceived as a Christian who does not know very much. How does this lack of knowledge reflect on my faith? Because I do no know, does that mean I do not understand?



As I have said previously, I think we need to dump certain perceptions of truth that we hold on to so tightly. According to my faith, real truth will never be knowable until after we are long dead. But, if the God of the universe is surprising silent on the topic of say, judgement day, but vocal on practices with money and other such things, then maybe, although it fascinates us, we should give up what we think and let God do the talking. Focus on what we know instead of filling in the gaps of what we don't know. But this attitude gets me in trouble. I can't debate with someone about what I don't know. And because I don't know this, I am viewed as uneducated, or in need of guidance.

I know I take personal offense to this accusation (see, even my language makes it more serious than it seems). But, it is an affront to how I define myself. I can't keep coming back to the same point, that I don't know very much where God is silent. I think there's a perception that surely, we can find a way to fill in the holes. And if I don't want to, I must not be strong in my faith.

There's a leap in logic here. If I don't want to fill in the holes, maybe I'm giving room to let God be God. Maybe my lack of curiousity is not indicative of a lack of faith, it's indicative of a lack of obession about what I cannot know. There's a difference. If I am constantly striving to know the unknowable, it's pointless. There are many ways to find out more about faith - namely, through experience. The experience of the last days will come soon enough. I will welcome them joyfully, but not before its own time.

Thoughts on the difference between right and wrong

Author's note: I wrote this several months ago, in response to a decision a friend made in her religous convictions. I wanted to place it here as this space becomes more and more used.

So, I've been thinking about our emphasis on doing "right" versus doing "wrong." Basically, I've felt like a failure recently, but I know that it really wasn't my fault. What caused me to feel this way?

Ok, I think that we are obsessed with being right. Not really obsessed in the sense that I can be obsessed with a certain recording artist, but in the way that affects our worldview. Think about it. When we are children, what are we trained to do in school? Find the right answer, for whatever reason. (I liked being right for the sake of being right. Some kids just wanted the grade.) How did our parents rear us? It varies from household to household, but I would generally say that parent reared us up to do the right - i.e., morally, politically, socially correct "thing." We are fascinated with this search for right-ness. And, in our search for truth and the best way to do things, we disregard everything but the end, even if we don't achieve it.
No wonder I feel like a failure when everything does not turn out the way it ought to have - ought to have according to me. I was mentoring this woman in a lifestyle change that I thought was good, and she decides to go back to how she was before. That was hard. Her decision made me feel like a failure. But, it was her decision. Nothing I said or did could have changed that. And yet, in my ears I heard, "You didn't try enough. You said something wrong to put her off."

Lies, all lies!

Perhaps we need to re-examine the way we think about our search for truth. I am not against looking for an absolute in our lives. After all, even if we say there are no absolutes, it's a contradictory statement in that the statement itself is an absolute. There must be something. We're just looking in the wrong spot. We seem to be looking for this special knowledge or idea when it might be something more tangible than that. Or we're searching for a certain experience, which is closer, although it has a tendency to be grounded in the search for a certain type of knowledge - emotion, knowledge and satisfaction of doing good. But, it may still be more real than that. It may be grounded in our everyday decisions, in our interactions with each other. The truth maybe unfolding right before our eyes, and we miss it.

Indeed it is and indeed I do. I type this and listen to Dom singing about a Remedy. I listen to my roommate fiddle in her chair. I can't take that back. It's the truth. It happened. We live in this world of ideas which lends itself to correction - always needing to be fixed because a situation arises that it cannot apply to. And because of this, we are devastated when it happens. I think we need to understand that we and our world is not stagnant, but continually evolving, changing, growing or shrinking, and with that our concept of truth, whatever truth it may be, needs to be malleable, mutable, changeable. Not so much as we lose ourselves to it, (it would be pretty ridiculous if we found out that we no longer needed sleep or burritos or something) but that sometimes our search for ideas needs to take a backseat to our lives. And in that, I would give up my fear of failure, you would give up your shyness, and my roommate would give up her guilt. Heck, cultural misunderstandings would be thrown into the wind.

In understanding this, it seems that what is right and what is wrong become closer or farther. They seem to not run parallel, but that they are either slowly moving toward or away from convergence. That their relationship is not a strict dichotomy, but one that plays with and next to one another. Surely, my friend's decision now might strengthen another decision later. In that way, perhaps her "wrong" decision will converge with the "right" decision later on. To be less obtuse, I'll use an example from my own life. I do not think I would have the same religous conviction today if it were not for my time away from religion. My wrong decision intersected with my right decision at some point or another to make me who I am now.

I just need to make sure I'm on the path to convergence.

My bloody ear

Lookee there! Yes, that's my bloody ear. I was given a certain amount of money to spend on my birthday and told to spend it frivolously, so this is what I chose - and industrial piercing in my ear. Ooh, boy, did it hurt! He marked it, I said "ok," then I was told to lie down, turn my head to the side, and then began the pinching and the burning.

I'm quite happy with the results. It fits me well and I think that it blends into my style and personality quite well. It's funny because as much as I want people to notice on their own, I have to show them and obtain their approval. "Yes, Tina, looks very nice. Good choice!" More than one person has told me they appreciate that I chose to have both of my piercings to one side. I'm also quite amused by the fact that I don't have my earlobes pierced at all but have both an eyebrow and an industrial, but it makes me no less feminine.

The Coffee Boi

There's something happening that's quite unusual. I like someone, like for real. Not some guy who plays a guitar on a stage and has an active myspace page. Not some guy who I see once a week at church and with whom I have a conversation once a month. Not some guy who I met on Craigslist that I feel like I would have to settle for. Not some snobby guy who is in one of my classes that can't tell the difference between a friendly girl and a flirty one. Not any one of my male friends who live in other states that I email with every now and then. No, an honest-to-goodness cute little boi who serves me my daily coffee, smokes cigarettes and reads Nietzsche for fun.

A little over a week ago, I took a different route to the coffee stand. I was chatting with the ladies in the coffee stand and he runs in, breathless, saying, "I saw you coming and wanted to say hello." He had spotted me from out the back door of the shop; my heart skipped a beat. Another time he discovers that we have something in common: we both wear our belts to one side. I impress him with my roller skating skills, he impresses me with his knowledge of the politics of Russia and the surrounding area. He wears a vest and Converse the same day I wear mine. We exchange smiles and glances and giggles. I don't think I've had an experience like this for YEARS. Dumb.
It makes me so dumb that I don't even have the nerve to give him my card, complete with number and myspace page. God, what if he sees this? What would he think then? Eep!
Anyway, as I ponder this new state of mine, I ask myself, where did this excitement and infatuation come in? Granted, I'm prone to like people excessively, but not to the point of my heart skipping a beat. When do I become emotionally involved? Rarely ever. Most of my thoughts on love and relationships steer toward the "it's a choice" direction and not the flutter-bys-in-my-tummy direction.

I swear, I've just become so cynical about love. I can't stand a cute couple and never really want to be a part of one. The what-ifs start going on, especially when it comes to me. What if he can't commit? What if he thinks I'm too lumpy? What if I insult him without knowing it, as I am prone to do? What if he already has a girlfriend. Essentially, what if it doesn't work out? What then? Have I just wasted so many weeks/months/years of my life? Frankly, that thought scares me - a lot. My cynicism covers over that, so that I may be right about the state of that relationship or this person's feelings. It protects my own from harm.

But now, coffee boi, you are beginning to overcome my what-ifs, making me drink too much caffeine and making my heart skip beats. You are so sweet and dirty and nice. You are excited to see me, talk with me, admit to me that you like to smoke. You even smoke the good ones - Marlboro reds (I think). You read popular continental philosophy and understand what you are reading. You make me want to give up my lofty notions of choice and throw all caution to the wind, seeing where the road takes me. Now I know why there's so many disgusting romantic comedies, and why people believe in soul mates. Not that I believe in that, but I can see why.

That's it. I give up. Let's just hope you're not taken. Or gay.

SB Independent "Try-outs"

Not that anyone really reads my blog, but I would still like to share my article I wrote for the Independent, a small weekly paper in Santa Barbara.  Enjoy!

 Most sane people would welcome the quiet that summer brings to Isla Vista.  No one is rushing to class on their self-propelled two (or four)-wheeled vehicles, the cars actually stop at the stop sign in front of my apartment building and there are small, daily migrations of girls in their flip-flops and cover-ups toward the stairs on Del Playa drive. Usually, there are masses of beach cruisers entering and leaving the Pardall tunnel and a line that goes out the door of Freebirds. But during the summer, not so much. There is no 10 o’clock scream from Francisco Torres, nor are there Jesus burgers at the Reality house.  It is simply not as busy.  Amidst all this calm, I marvel at the rest that this town is receiving. My friend on his skateboard can actually spot me as I walk toward work at UCSB.  I think “Hey, this seems like a hibernation of sorts, a rest and wait for the season of life to come around again.”

                Yes, that’s right; I think that the summer in Isla Vista is much like a creature hibernating in the winter waiting for spring to come around again.  It’s quite like a bear, active for 3 seasons a year, sleeping for one, albeit the sleep of I.V. comes with the warmth of the sun and not the cold of the winter.   

                Take the case of Jorge, one of Isla Vista’s mail carriers.  He loves working his route because for three glorious months out of the center of the year, his pack is half as light and he delivers my mail two hours earlier than usual.  And, if he’s lucky, some of the dog warnings are removed for good.  His heart rate, much like a bear’s in the winter, is lowered during the summer. This conserves his energy for the big push in September and October.  Jorge, even though his route is the same number of boxes as one in San Roque or Montecito, receives welcome refreshment for one quarter of the year.  He can crawl into his den and sleep, i.e., visit his family and enjoy the sunshine on his route.

                Or look at the influx and outflow of students.  In the spring, like a bear gathering twigs and shrubs for a nest in its den, so Isla Vistans are preparing for a big move of their own.  They box up, throw out, clean (or not) the stuff in their apartments for a move to other pastures – a temporary move away from the Isla Vista world, like a bear moves into its world of slumber and darkness.   

                Or think of it like school kids in the summer, because Isla Vista life runs on the school schedule. Kids have nothing but lazy days to play stick ball and lounge in the pool – or in the case of IV, go to the beach and lazily consume alcohol, bringing forth new friends and flings, much like a bear that has nothing to do but slumber and give birth to cubs in the winter.   

                It makes me wonder: would IV really be the same without its own summer hibernation?  Would the parties and weekend festivals be as joyous if there was no break?

                As I take a walk in the quieter end of IV, the 6800 block where the houses have room to breathe and many of their residents are permanent fixtures, I wonder if this is what Isla Vista were to become if its primary residents were no longer transient, and if IV no longer has its own hibernation.  There are manicured front lawns, nice architectural features, one guy even has an old railway signal planted in his front lawn. 

                But, save for the summer surfers, there’s little activity on these blocks, even during the school year.   There’s no uproarious laughter coming out of the windows, there’s no one playing beer pong on their patio, no fruit trucks peddling their wares and no transients hanging out.  It’s just another sleepy suburban neighborhood, like an eerie permanent hibernation. 

If this is Isla Vista with no hibernation, then, I don’t want it.  I escaped the shiny lure of Orange County, only to end up in this unique community, where many of your friends are in walking distance, not to mention the beach and other recreational endeavors.  A place where at any time of year, including holidays and the summer, you can meet someone and play with their Labrador at the beach or where you can wander to get a burrito just because it is 2am and you have nothing else to do.  A place of extreme wealth and extreme poverty all smashed up in each other’s space.  A place where Hillel is less than a block away from both the Catholic and Episcopal churches, and the Mormon church sits near the place where all the inebriated students and visitors line up for food at the end of the night.

Without hibernation, the bears would not survive and, without its own summer hibernation, Isla Vista and the open-minded “live and let live” culture associated with it would not either.  It might become another suburban neighborhood, where Freebirds gives way to Chipotle and the Isla Vista youth program becomes a high-end daycare for working parents. 

But, if hibernation - or student transience - is necessary for the survival of IV, then bring it on, even if it does mean that the Pita Pit is closed and the nice boys have moved from next door.  Eventually, just as the momma bear emerges in the spring with her cubs in search of food, so too does Isla Vista end its hibernation, to begin its full life anew, hungry, waiting for what the next nine months will reveal.