"Getting older's not been on my plans"

   I recently have gone back to watch the X-files from the beginning to the end. Now, I am aware of the intense dedication of time that I am giving said show: 9 seasons! It's going to take forever. But I love this show. I remember, when I was younger, I was not allowed to watch this show, but would sneak it anyway. Why? Because as long as I can remember the paranormal has always intrigued me.    As a Christian and lover of Frank Peretti, I have been exposed to the forces of spiritual things. For in scripture it talks of "wrestling between principalities and powers." This has always been taken to mean unseen forces of evil...namely Satan and his demons. I believe that these beings exist, and I do believe in the reality of said battle of forces. Perhaps that is why I am completely fascinated with the paranormal.    In this series, Fox Mulder is struggling to find and prove the existence of aliens. His partner, Dana Scully, wants nothing to do with it relying on science on

   When I started this blog, I thought that I would write every night. But sometimes...like last night and tonight, I just don't want to. And the only person holding myself accountable is myself. So, since I have nothing to write about, well...I could, but I won't then I am going to go to bed. I am hoping that by tomorrow I will have something other to write about than just some crazy woman rewriting Harry Potter to fit her favorite brand of Christianity. How pleasant!     UGH!!

   I believe that no matter how hard I try, I will always ruin a good thing. I believe that no matter how hard I try, I will never get past what I have failed at. But why?      Is it inevitable that when I get to the point that things are good or healthly, I will never get past the part of hope and love? Tonight was not good or bad just indifferent. So why do I feel that I am setting myself up for failure?     I specifically rememeber when my ex and I were in a good and healthy place that I had a bad night, and it was the beginning of the end. Why? Because I could not reconcile the fact that at the end of the day I needed to turn in to myself and try to heal myself.     Which means that I needed to listen to myself and I tried to heal myself with outside forces, but what I needed was personal introspection. But I didn't take it. Tonight, I found myself crying in front of someone that I never thought I would. What does this mean for me? Vulnerability? Perhaps. Or maybe just as th

    Gandhi said, "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians; they are nothing like your Christ.." In "What if I Stumble" DC Talk sings, "The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable."     Three young people walk into a bar: a man wearing a cassock and a crucifix while smoking a pipe, a young lady with tattoos cigarette in hand, and a well dressed gentleman with 20 dollars for shots...     ...the punch line, there is none.    Growing up with family members that were alcoholics, and a brother who died of such, how could I spend a Friday night with anyone who would drink? More importantly, how could I drink? For isn't this wrong?    We all have our "ideals" of what is right and wrong, but the grey line gets drawn when we bring up the topic of "appeara

   So, I could sit here and write that I am always one to make my own decisions...and that isn't far from the truth, but there are sometimes that I wish someone could make them for me. For example: I have always liked the idea of an arranged marriage. The thought of not having to work so hard to find someone to fall in love with and then hopefully not get your heat broken. It is all so exhausting. However, now, dating someone who is from the culture of the arranged marriage, I can now see the downfall. (Secretly...I am still fascinated with the whole idea.)    And even though I consider myself to dance or sway or get jiggy with the beat of my own drum, I still don't like making the tough decisions. Most of the time, I hold my phone with my mother's number flashing berating myself and trying oh so hard not to call her and have her make the decision for me.     Am I talking about something in general or specific? Not so much. However, I am speaking more in a general sense.

   It's amazingly how quick I regret things, and yet I can convince anyone with flowery words that regret is the least thing we should hold against ourselves. But in the end, regret has taught me a lot of life lessons.     I try often to not do things or say things that I will regret, either in the moment or later. However, I am not always on the top of my game. And so my opening line tends to be the way I handle regret. The way it happens is I act or react and instantaneously I have a deep sense of regret.    And probably like most people the only way I can get rid of this regret is with reassurance from someone (usually the one involved or else someone I trust) that regret is the last thing I need to be shouldering. The problem...is that I have a tendency to either not trust them or doubt myself so much I can't get rid of it.     This is what happened with the ex: I screwed up, regretted, asked for forgiveness, was granted such, told by another I had no reason to have even

   I promise I am not using this title in response to the massive amount of brown people I hung out with this weekend. =) But I am very thankful for what a good and wonderful weekend I had. I have to admit that I am beyond exhausted. My eyes are droopy and my body is slowly shutting down from sheer exhaustion. Why? Because this past week has felt non-stop. And I am finally feeling it all.    As I get older I forget how easy it is to get into a routine and sit comfortably there. For a few weeks my schedule has felt all sorts of jacked up. I have seen less and less of my friends because of renewed work and new work obligations. I have been going a million miles an hour and before I look up the week has come and gone.     But this weekend, even though I didn't get the opportunity to spend it with dear friends as I would have liked (some I did), I was introduced into a whole new world. It isn't often I am reminded of how "white I am." Yes, I am an American, yes I was bo

I...just...need...sleep.

   Sometimes I think I am this person who just believes in pretty words. You know the ones that make you have flutters in your stomach and stars in your eyes. The words that cause lovers to jump overboard and fall madly and deeply in what they think is love. But then, most of the time, I wake up. I realize that those words are just words.     However, if I didn't believe in those pretty words then there would be no such thing as belief. I understand that words without actions are nothing...they are void. But I also understand that it takes a great deal to actually say those pretty words. I will admit that I have been a slave to words. Sometimes even believing that words are enough, but they aren't really. They aren't.     And the beauty of those words aren't in their speaking but in their fruition of action. I would venture to say that I am a Slytherin for a reason. I can manipulate to the point where I can get anyone to like me, perhaps even love me, but reciprocatin

   I was speaking to a friend the other night about the act of crying in public. He mentioned that at one point he could not conceive of this particular thing, but as he has gotten older he has realized the act of being vulnerable and the healing powers it has for one's soul.     I admit that I still have this inability. There are very few in my life that see me cry...very few. It isn't that I am ashamed or scared to cry in front of others, I just don't allow myself (or haven't gotten) vulnerable enough to do this. The question that came up during this conversation was this: is it a shame or is it just not something done?    Shame...I can't see it as shameful. Shame is something you regret because you think it is wrong. I don't feel wrong because I don't cry in front of others, I just don't get there. I remember the ex asked me this very specific question, "So you don't feel comfortable crying in front of me?" My answer...no. And I didn&#

    I miss the days when I could log onto the internet and read a well thought out or perhaps hilarious blog post written by a dear friend. It was usually the highlight of my day. Then I could respond in kind with a deep and meaningful post of my own and get a equally deep response from a friend. Without fail, the topic of said posts would be conversation pieces between the people I dedicated a lot of my time to.     I miss the days when what was said between my community of friends was worth reading and responding to. I am not saying that Facebook is not a place where friends can not have a conversation, but it is such a public forum that sentiment and heartfelt responses get lost. It is a place that people can misconstrue what is said. Did this happen on Xanga? Probably, but how often did you hear of someone getting bent up over a Xanga post.      I miss the days when friends who I smoked hookah with on Friday nights were the ones that would entertain me through the week with funn

     I don't think that I have ever been told, "You can finally have what you want, but only for a short while." I find this to be very sad but almost a waste of the gift. Why would I knowingly accept something I want so much if it could only be taken from me at a moments notice?     This idea is very reminiscent of Tennyson's line from In Memoriam  "'Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all." I have at all moments believed this to be true, so maybe I am living this Tennyson moment. Perhaps I am just truly accepting what I have been given knowing I can't keep it.     I started dating a good man tonight. I have wanted to date this man for awhile, but tonight, I made the choice to keep him as mine for awhile. So what's the catch? There can be no forever with him. I know this, he knows this...but in the end, we can't stay away from each other. So is this smart? Is this really something that could benefit anyone? Honest

    I told him I felt like I was on the verge of a grand decision. That I felt I was standing on the precipice about to jump off into the abyss or turn around and walk away. And more than anything I wanted to jump.      But that's just the thing. I also told him I wasn't the only who held my fate. He also carries a big part of that decision. I realize after last night that I was fitted with wings of which to jump with, but then there was him... the one who could push me off the cliff or physically turn me around and guide me back to safety.       In all my years, I have been less the one to take the way others do. I tend to want to forge my own path, but even so I live according to a higher set of standards and ethical codes. But who doesn't? We all have our standards. I only call mine higher because I believe in the divinity of the One of whom I try to follow. I say all this because up until this point it has affected my decision to jump or walk.      Now... having said

    Tonight I was given a very saved gift: understanding. After last night's post, I have been feeling this agitated sense of dread. Like I am loving a double or half life. Most people, 99.9% of people in my life Jane no idea of the true inert turmoil I have in my mind and heart.      And who's fault is that? I am the only one to blame. I realized, more than a month ago, what would happen if I walked down a certain path I had the option of walking down. I also knew at what point my heart would break. So I walked gently. Or maybe I didn't because I knew the path was inevitable.       So what did I do? I hid. I hid my true feelings and desires and I tried so hard to suppress everything I felt to live up to a certain standard. And I was/am breaking inside. I have never felt so unfortunate in my walk thus far on this earth.       And the sad part, while I have been in hiding, I have tried to maintain another pretense of lifestyle. I am not ashamed of what I feel or think or

     I have at some point been afflicted with a disturbing sense of obligation. At any given time, I have at least 4 or 5 things I feel obligated towards. Whether these are friends, work, projects, family, faith or a slew of many other things, this impending doomy sense is never abated.        And at some point I just have to stop. I have realized that the older I get, this certain sense of obligation toward somethings diminishes, but in others grows. Do I have examples? Of course. Will I explain them...ha! Do I want to be publically flogged? Not particularly.        But as of late, I have realized one particularly blaring sense of obligation that I have been carrying around: that towards my future relationship/relationships with men. What do I mean? I am beginning to realize that I have never been obligated to be a certain way toward someone of the opposite sex. However, I feel as though I have super glued myself to this obligatory way of saying and or doing things that make me have

     "Unspeakable memories," a thought that is disturbingly beautiful and hauntingly damaging. A friend recently brought this to my attention, and when they said it, I was left mouth agape...how many times or relationships do we have in our lives that have these unspeakable memories?       Sometimes I wonder if I were to stand before my old best friend and look at her re4membering the stories we used to tell each other. You know...the ones that only the most sacred of people share, or what if I were to stand in front of my ex with that knowing look that says, "Yes, I used to love you with everything that I have," knowing that in that moment we no longer share that same type of love. It is these unspeakable memories that break my heart, and yet in a sense build moments that last a lifetime.         The most damaging part of these kinds of memories is the idea that in the midst of the crowd of people while you stand apart from the person you share this memory with,

A pious man explained to his followers: It is evil to take lives and noble to save them. Each day I pledge to save a hundred lives. I drop my net in the lake and scoop out a hundred fishes. I place the fishes on the on the bank, "where they flop around and twirl. "Don't be scared," I tell those fishes. "I am saving you from drowning." Soon enough, the fishes grow calm and lie still. Yet, sad to say, I am always too late. The fishes expire. And because it is evil to waste anything, I take those dead fishes to market and I sell them for a good price. With the money I receive, I buy more nets so I can save more fishes.                     ~Amy Tan *A favorite quote and one that has lately been running through my heart.

     In the late 3rd century, a group of hermits from Egypt decided to move into the desert and live the ascetic lifestyle; they became known as the desert fathers. It was these monks and religious that dedicated their life to prayer and worldly abstinence. Now, I could never do this. Ever. Acedia is considered, not in the same name, one of the seven deadly sins outlined by the Catholic Church and most Christian texts. A few years ago, I read a book entitled, "Acedia and Me." This novel, written by Kathleen Norris, outlines what the desert fathers coined "the noonday demon" or as it is more commonly known: sloth.      As a writer, she found it hard, even in the most busy of lifestyles to get up and do what she must in order to feel as though she accomplished something. I have always been one to immediately call myself lazy, but sloth is a harsh term. What constitutes one a sloth? For in sloth do we not need to be complacently accepting of our inactivity?      The

     I have a hard time taking offense to things. But when I do...I usually take great offense. (That sounded sort of like a Dos XX commercial.) Anyway, it's true. Rarely do I find what people say or do offensive, but I have moments.      And it is these moments that I can go from calm, cool, and collected to fiery in minutes! These moments usually have to do with my faith. I don't care if someone tells me I am wrong or that I believe in a backwards Church or that I am part of the "whore of Babylon." I don't care. Really...I don't. I know that that person is wrong, so what they say doesn't bother me. What I find most offensive concerning my faith is that my friends and family or acquaintances don't allow me the same courtesy that I show them.      Granted, I have failed in my past concerning this particular thing myself. So now you may call me a hypocrite. I probably deserve it. I have been known to call out and ridicule some old teachings and dogmas

      I would like to think that I have a vast vocabulary. Granted, it doesn't make itself known when I use the words "uber," "totes," and "cray cray," but I have been known to use a wide range of words. So, I must admit that I had to look up the word "solidarity" when Father Bryan spoke on this during his weekend homily.         Solidarity: a feeling of unity between people who share similar interests and goals. This was far from the meaning I thought it bore. But when I found its meaning I thought through Father Bryan's words. He said something to the effect of: we as humans find it easy to have solitary with those who live, act, speak, and vote like we do. But how hard is it to share this between those who are different.         I had the opportunity to be the beginning of a really bad joke this weekend. "A Catholic, a Muslim, and a Hindu walk into a bar..." The difference was this wasn't a joke. It was a reality. And a

     I wrote this obituary a long time ago. How odd to see where my life is different from then. Obituaries for the fifteenth day of November 2006 TULSA, OK – Alysse Suzanne Dever, a toxicology analyst for Drugs of Abuse Testing Laboratory, INC.© of whose job was not her dream of choice, has died. She was 21. Dever died Tuesday in her east Tulsa apartment of an undiagnosed illness, her family said. Although original cast member of the “La Casa” 2005, Dever mourned over the loss of   what used to be   and, “never could handle the change well,” mentioned an unknown source. Dever tried her best, but claimed she was never good enough. She left behind her many journals and writings to which her family and friends knew nothing about. Some writings claimed her desire to be greater than what she was and kinder than she could ever hope to be. It would only be a few more months before Alysse was able to join the Catholic church, something that she desired more than anything. “She was h

Sometimes life sets before you two things and you have to consciously make a choice. Even if, more than anything, you don't want to.

    I have never been one to believe in pure fate or destiny. A few blogs back I talked about the idiom: "everything happens for a reason." And without rehashing that particular saying up comes destiny. So, when a good friend asked me, "Are we destined to fate, or do we carve it." I can only truly and logically answer that we carve it.       All my life I have loved fairy tales. I believe in dragons of the old realm, fairies that live under the mushrooms, naiads and dryads that lure unsuspecting humans into their lair, trolls that control the bridges, knights that vanquish the monsters to protect their kingdom, kings that rule over their lands with gentle love...all of it. I love it. And when I say that I believe in it, I believe in the magic that makes these things real.      Does this make me someone who is caught up in a world of fantastical beings unable to live in the reality of this world? No. Chesterton quotes, "Fairy tales do not tell children that dr

     I had this moment tonight. It was more of a surreal time stop. Have you ever been in a moment where you all of the sudden are seeing in a tunnel and the world starts getting really colorful and spinny? I had that...in front of 17 people this evening. And it was awesome!      Tonight was the first night of RCIA: Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. The journey one must take to become part of the Roman Catholic Church, and I am the director. Now, that may seem to you like I have dragged out a soap box, stood upon it, cleared my throat, and began preaching. You would be so far from the truth. I began this evening living my dream!       The moment, 7 years ago, when I decided who I wanted to be when I grew up came, this night, to fruition. Her name: Becky Grossman. Who is she? The one I wanted to be. I began the RCIA program 8 years ago and fell in love with this Church. I fell in love with what this woman represented to me. She was the director of the RCIA program at Church of t

     As a Catholic, I have been fortunate to not struggle with the basic fundamental things concerning my faith. I will admit that I did not want to be Catholic, until hell froze over...guess it did, but more importantly, I feel whole-heartily that I made the decision to revert to the faith with eyes open and a inquisitive mind.       Having said that...there have been some very major underlying things that I have struggled with. I can only begin to say that having people in my life that are willing to be open and honest with me concerning their life in the Church has given me hope for a good future.       If you know me at all, you know my sexual orientation and sexual lifestyle. It is one that I am open and more than happy to talk about at any given time. But even still, I have profound struggles with some teachings of the faith. I know what they are, and I agree with them. What are they?     1. NFP. Now, I know that most people don't know what this is, and perhaps have not en

      I have always been a quiet and secretive person. I believe it comes from my family living with secrets. But, even so, we as humans keep secrets that we think will make us look diminished to someone we love or care for. And even though it is my goal in life to be as open and honest as possible, I still fail. I still find myself harboring some little part of myself from people that I think might judge me.        This probably seems completely unlike my character, but it is true. I do this thing...where I do not offer information to someone, but if asked a question will be completely open and honest. I guess that could be considered to some an omission of lies, but I say this, "If you wanna know, just ask."         I had the privilege of reading a dear friend's blog this afternoon that shook the idea of candor to the core. I have no reason to delve into the life of this friend, but from the moment I read it, I was blown away. This subtle means, of expressing what wa