Shake Off the Dust

Well here we are as a sort of "new year" resolution to resume the blogging. Funny thing about me and New Years - the thing to ask people is what they're resolving to do, right? It's what you do at the start of a New Year. Not this kid.

Now what's weird is I am not about to go off on a tangent about how I don't believe in resolutions or how silly holiday traditions can be. Quite the contrary. For the longest time people would ask me what my New Years Resolution was and I'd have no answer, and frankly I'd have no explanation for why.  It just wasn't a thing I did.  That made no sense to me and this year I decided that was a bogus answer.   Then, it dawned on me...

I like lists. I like to create them, complete them, reorganize them, re-prioritize them, rethink them, recheck them, you name it.  One of my favorite de-stressors is list making. It's how I tackle problems and how I break my goals down into something I can understand, control, and ultimately meet.  So making a resolution on a yearly basis is certainly not something tailored to my odd way of improving my life - because I make small resolutions all the time.  And, let's be real, a lot of those fail.  But I will also say it goes a long way to mix living impulsively with my 'gotta have a plan' mentality.  Something strikes me as interesting and I embrace that.  Let's make a plan to indulge, let's make a plan to get better at it, let's just try it one time, let's get a friend to join.  And now I'm training for a 10k that's in less than 4 weeks.  Am I ready? No.  Am I on track?  Not really.  But I am training.  And I am signed up.  And I am going to finish it.  It's freeing to make goals and just go for them without the pressure of 'what if I fail at this?'

There are so many things you do with what you're given.  And there are infinite numbers of them you'll never experience if you spend your whole life within your 'safe' box.

Paul & People

I wish I could honestly say that I've given up on people. That I hate the human race and truly, deeply mistrust the "good" in anyone. But the unfortunate truth is I'm desperately hoping in people. People have let me down; my expectations have been unmet, my hopes dashed and my heart broken. All I have to show for that is a wildly grasping hope that someone is out there who won't let me down and a nagging voice in the back of my head wondering why I haven't learned.

I've found myself in the uncomfortable position of needing to believe in people, and I despise it.

I don't really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don't do it. Instead, I do what I hate.                                Romans 7:15

It's Old - I Love It!

Dear Paula,

I went vintage antiquing this past Tuesday with my favorite friend, Rachel. We went here and I found the most adorable jade (ish) bead necklace for $8. Photo to follow in the coming days. Next we hit up an antique mall where she found a cute little piece of jewelry as well. There were so many wonderful knickknacks I would have died to buy, along which furniture that cost more than I could make selling my soul but wanted soo desperately. I think in addition to being and old farm lady with tons of animals I will also collect tons of junk.

Later that day I picked up  Stephanie and went to Target with intentions of buying a pink watch for our dear friend Abigail, who is living away from us right now and misses being a roomie! Stephanie and I have matching ones in teal and yellow, respectively, and I figured she'd love to join the trifecta. Anyway, so I went there, armed with good intentions, and came back with these lovelies (on clearance!!) and a wonderful maxi dress (that I can't find online right now - pissed) that I'm wearing today. {Side note: Stephanie bought this maxi last time we went. So comfy, great go-to, and the boyfriend loves it.} I go into Target so much that I knew this dress was a new arrival since last week (hence the trouble finding it online) AND I knew to look for this slice of comfort on clearance. Unfortunately, it's too popular to hit clearance (btw, it's hi-lighter yellow and I'm in love - the photo doesn't do it justice). Boo. But I still managed to spend over $60 in this store without even touching what I came for originally. We didn't even walk into the jewelry section. Speaking of which, almost every time I go in there, I try on this falsie engagement ring and drool a little.. Never thought I'd like a circle cut but the band is so dainty and thin that the thing actually looks good on my finger. Look at me, single cat lady trying on rings!!

In other news, I have a date this weekend.. Before you get too excited, I'm 99% sure he's rebounding on me. Recently got out of a 3 1/2 year relationship. Please. Unless it's been at least a year, nothing doing (it's been maybe two months). Figured it was only fair to give him one date (my dear friend Katie operates on this policy.. She's nicer than me.) I'll have to do some research and submit my three outfits I packed for this weekend.. Got an evening wedding complete with cocktail attire to go to as well! Hello fashion. {Side note, me + clothes are like Paula + stationery. It's dangerous.}

Finally, Stephanie is coming over Sunday before the wedding (Yes, it's Sunday night.. Don't get me started) to get her hair did by yours truly. I spent all night (until 2 am) one night playing with her hair and creating ideas that would look nice with her a-line dress from JC Penny. We decided we liked something like this best. Would you agree? {Final Side Note: Speaking of hair, I wanna get something like this done as a reward for reaching my fitness goal this summer. Love? Hate?}

XoXo,

Hanna

Wheels on the Bus

Thoughts on an average bus ride to class.

Initial boarding. "Make sure to sit one seat away from all strangers."
"What game am I going to play so that I am perfectly unapproachable?"

During the ride.
"This guy smells funny."
"Are you kidding me? You could have gone 5 times... Drive please."
"I wonder if he can see what game I'm playing on my phone."(At this point I instinctively pull my phone closer to my face.)
"What the... This driver is gonna get us killed."
"Wow, it's really getting warm in here."
(I check my watch) "Does she realize I'm on a schedule here? Move it lady."
"Oops. Eye contact. Back to my game."
"Seriously, this is a bus, not  car. Gentle on the brakes!"
"Ok I'm starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. Can we please be there now?"

Upon departing.
"LAND. I made it out with my life."
"Definitely not saying thank you to you... You can't drive. That's right. Suffer."

Gyms, Churches and Shibboleths

Today I went to the school's fairly new state-of-the-art "fittness and wellness center" for the first time. Now don't get me wrong, this place is pretty sweet. They have everything. To be honest one of my "work out goals", if you will, is to get "good enough" to go there on a regular basis. This visit, however, was premature. It's a great story really, so bear with me as I give context to why I was there in the first place.

I lost my apartment keys and fob over the span of maybe 50 feet and 15 minutes. Don't even think of asking, magicians rarely reveal their secrets. Due to this loss, I was without access to my physical apartment, a way to exit or enter the complex via foot or car, and the facilities  provided as amenities to residents...including the workout place.

So here we go, hitting the pavement for a walk to the campus work out place. First off, kid in a candy shop. Everything is shiny, new and--oh how appropriate--garnet. Second, wheeeere do I go again? This place is massive. I don't even know where the bathroom is. It was at this point that I realized the decision to not put in my contacts was quite a detrimental one. I can wander around though, no problem. This brings me to reaction number three... The shibboleth.

It finally occurred to me as I hit the weight area that I way did not belong here. The us vs. them mentality was screaming for attention. And this is not to say it as a dish on the way others were looking at me. They probably were, but thankfully I was in terrible vision bliss. I'm talking about my own thoughts. First instinct: Are there any other girls down here? Because I refuse to be the only one. Second instinct: I sure hope someone notices that I sort of know what I'm doing, because I've done this before. Just not here. Third instinct: Wow all the girls are over there doing abs.. Ha I'm so BA, look at this chicks--LEGSSSS. 

Right so, point is, walk around thinking about how I'm better than at least someone there, and therefore I belong. Then it hits me--no, not wow I'm an asshole but--wow, people do this everywhere. Even Publix. There is something about "belonging"that requires you be "not them" but "one of us". Curious how that works, is it not? Life is not as much about being "like us" as it turns out to be about NOT being like "them". Think about it, how many groups or identities are defined by what these people aren't? 


Unfortunately I don't have some kind of world problem-solving answer to this phenomenon, but I'm pretty sure awareness of it is a great place to start. Perhaps that's why groups are so exclusive... They are defined by what they exclude. Maybe it's easier to find the things we all do than to focus on the things we don't do. Solidarity in similarity? Could be a great start.

God Is Not My Cat

I once heard that our deepest fear and greatest need can be summed up in one thing: to be fully known and loved for it. But for some of us (like me) this comes with a list of requirements. And this poses a lot of fundamental problems with my love need.

Don't just give me love. My cat has taught me this one. I love cats and until yesterday, I didn't realize why. Don't get me wrong, dogs are great. In fact anything furry has my heart. But cats man, cats rock. And this is why: they don't just love you; you earn it. And that's how I think love should work. You don't just love people. They earn it from you. You don't just get love from people. You win them over. You make them fall for you. Sounds pretty messed up, right?

But this is the basic definition of playing hard to get. Admit it, you've done it. We all do it. In fact, we're TOLD to do it. Girls, you know you've heard it a million times: guys like a challenge. But I'd take that a step further, we all like a challenge. We all like to think we're loved because we're good enough. We've done something right, we are the right person, we say the right things, we look the right way...thus we're loved. 

That's not what Jesus says. Romans 5:8 makes it abundantly clear, He came for us "while we were still sinners". That's like a guy falling for the you that just woke up, with nasty breath, puffy eyes, a terrible attitude and something evil growing on top of your head. Just ain't right, is it? But that's His love. Jesus isn't my cat; and it frustrates me to no end.

There are one of two ways to go with this kind of love that are both vastly wrong: 1) I didn't earn this love therefore I can't accept it; or 2) I can do whatever I want and still be loved. I fall in category 1. If I have a love that I have worked for, earned, or for all intensive purposes deserved, I must be a pretty decent, fairly acceptable human being. And oh how I'd love to think that. Accepting the love of Christ offered me means I have to admit I'm not good enough. Lord help us all. But it's not as scary as it seems. No, I'm not good enough. But God doesn't care. There's something painfully terrifying and hauntingly beautiful in this. And instead of me desperately working to earn a love that won't even satisfy, I'm instead pursued by a relentless God who knows me better than anyone ever could. 

How do I respond? Here's the kicker: I run. I take love for granted. I label it as suffocating and high tail it to the next thing I can earn. In a culture where something truly "free" is rarely offered, I turn down the best offer ever given me in the name of having a love I have worked for and won for myself. It's exhausting, and yields maybe a few short-lived highs.

The problem? I have missed the fundamental nature of love in an of itself. Love isn't a thing to be won, earned or achieved. It is a thing to be mutually shared. By everyone, with everyone. As modeled by a perfectly loving Saviour. 

Time Is Just A Number

This morning proved yet again that "on time" is not a place I frequent. In discussions with a friend over lunch, I heard the typical list of "______ better"s that one may associate with us awfully inconvenient late people. Of course they were all great points, and things I should do better, but do they really make the difference? What truly is the issue with people who struggle to meet time constraints?

I'd like to say I've pinpointed my problem and will now post all the answers to every lateness issue anyone has ever experienced.  I've heard it said that late people have control issues, and being late somehow exerts our control over the event or person we are to attend or meet. I am, yes, a self-admitted control addict--but even with an admitted problem I don't see the correlation. Wouldn't I consciously feel the control and thus enjoy being late? My mother always told me that lateness was synonymous with disrespect, and if I respected the event or the person or the obligation enough, I would be on time. I've been late to desperately needed job interviews. Important things to which I did not wish to arrive late. Favourite classes, favourite people--they have both suffered at the hand of my lateness. Nope. No disrespect here.


Time management. How well do I effectively evaluate the allotment I'm given and from that make quick decisions as to what can and cannot be done? Then it hit me. Decisions. I'm horribly indecisive, to a fault. The pressure of a "right now" decision makes my palms sweat just to think of it. How many mornings have I rushed into a class 15 minutes late, hot, embarrassed and frustrated because earlier that morning, I chose to spend an extra 15 minutes on my hair instead of rushing out the door? My morning choices reflect very strongly the nature of the rest of my day. And there are oh so many choices to be made:
7:00 AM: the alarm buzzes...snooze or wake up?
7:10 AM: it's the alarm again...just 15 more minutes.
7:30 AM: WAKE UP...let's see, can I get ready in under 30 minutes? Maybe if I choose my outfit from bed, I'll get dressed faster and I can sleep 5 more minutes.

These are legitimate thoughts that cross my mind each morning. So, we can say, when it boils down to it, "on time" is all about choice.The trick is to find the drive, discipline and motivation to make the right choices, and act on them.