In Which There's at Least One Conclusion
And that's that my stepdad died. Yeah, and there are other things that have happened in the last nearly three months since I posted, but, really, I'm I don't feel the need to post them. So we'll leave it at that. Talk to y'all later, hopefully.

Lark

In Which I Have an Ideologically Long Day
Now Playing: The Beatles' "Girl," in my head
At least that's the half of it.

My father is, as we speak, probably sleeping in preparation to get on a plane in the next twelve hours and arrive here in the next twenty-four. Isn't that exciting? Then it's off on Friday for the marvelous land of Massachusetts and all the Canadian beer we could ever want (which isn't much) on the way! Life's never been better.

Actually, it has, I'm pretty sure.

In other news, I am surprised as anybody at the unexpected development, but I actually DID go down today and get a volunteer application from the local Humane Society. I am very surprised. Not entirely pleased, though. We'll see if I make it all of the way through the process.

I had to do an interview/survey thing of somebody who isn't Christian for my ministry and postmodernism class. I did not like doing it.

Good night, world.

In Which Lark's at War for the Forseeable Future and She's Never Been So Scared
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: watched Frasier again, reading some Oscar Wilde
The title of this one makes me really happy. It's the title of McSweeney's issue number 12 only it's 'Timothy McSweeney' instead of 'Lark.' I've never even read it, and it's probably that kind of writing that seems good, but kind of gives me a head ache, and is a little pretentious. That's my guess from excerpts, anyway. But interesting and attractive somehow. Anyway.

I did a very brave thing today. I crossed the street (it took a long time; I kept dropping my folded paper because I don't have pockets so I had it tucked into the flap of my faux-pocket, and I kept having to go back and get it, and campus is wide to cross) and asked whether the golf courses needed help. It was a HUGE relief as I approached the place when I saw the marquee that said "Help Wanted." It was SUCH a relief.

They didn't have me fill anything out, though. The chick who was there had just been hired herself, so I left my name and phone number. But this is hope, just knowing that they were hiring when I went is some how a huge comfort to me that God's still taking care of me, even if I don't get a job (although it would be lovely, it being just across the street and all).

I've come to a sad conclusion about my lack-of-job-ness. I think it is in part because of my unwillingness to give of my time and effort and work. It's been years since I was involved in a church and never since I regularly volunteered anywhere or showed up on a frequent basis to help anybody. It's just not something I've done.

I tried to early in high school, but I was REALLY scared of people then and the furthest I got was leaving a message on some organization's answering machine in which I was very nervous and forgot to leave a number. And it's still scary to me, for reasons some better than others. One, I'm still scared of people, although much, much less. Two, I'm lazy, I might as well say it. Three, I'm worried there will be nothing I CAN do that's really useful. I'm not even that good at cleaning things. And, you know, part of that's a pride issue, wanting do something apparently useful, you know, important.

So, should I manage to muster the courage, that's going to be changing soon. The Humane Society is right down the street about two blocks and I'm going to try to get myself to go down in the next few days and fill out a volunteer application so I can go in and help clean the cages. We'll see if this happens. It's ridiculous how nervous the thought of this makes me.

There's this line in my head at which point the prospect of doing something makes me way too nervous for it to be considered a possibility. Actually going in to the Humane Society is one of those things. But so was the golf course thing. So we'll see how much courage I can muster tomorrow.

That and since I'm going to be around this summer and the church always has a nasty time finding people willing to clean the church building while they're deprived of student labor, I'm planning on volunteering to do that the weeks where I'm not going on yet-unplanned trips. Some poor devout soul who's already doing tons of stuff for the church always ends up stuck with it alone, so we'll see if I can fix that.

It occurred to me the other day as I was lying half asleep on the floor that one of the big problems with me is that I consider disobedience an option. And sometimes not even an option, sometimes just the inevitable. It's not okay. {sigh}

And because I feel like it, here are some movie lists.

Movies that have made me sob in the last few years:

1. Big Fish
2. Finding Neverland
3. V for Vendetta

And these are the only five really necessary movies:

1. Lord of the Rings
2. Legend of 1900
3. The Maltese Falcon
4. Rocketman
5. the Crocodile Dundee movies

Therein lie the highest fruits of human achievement. Once you've seen Paul Hogan put a knife through the head of an anamatronic snake there's really nothing else you need to see there.

Alright, enough for now. Have a lovely day.

In Which My Thoughts Are Strange To Me
Now Playing: reading
You know, this whole concept of having an online journal, when it's not focused on some special interest group or you're not famous, is starting to seem really strange to me, and I'm not sure I'm going to keep doing it. Lots of things are happening, I'm having lots of thoughts, but I'm not sure I really need to tell anybody about them. I'm not sure anybody really needs to know. And if they do I can tell them personally.

I feel at the moment very small and lost and afraid, and I don't know why.

In Which I Wax Frenetic on My Own Existence, Briefly
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: Simon and Garfunkel and Frasier
Well, ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the circus of wonders that is my blog of brief entries on my life. I've quit Baker. Not a hitch, and they didn't give me a hard time. In and out. Yea for no debt. Boo for not having a job. I'm putting out applications. Spent what felt like way too long filling them out on Unicro, or whatever that platform is called, answering whether or not I strongly disagree, disagree, agree, or strongly agree on whether or not I feel I have great regrets in my life. Whoopy. I think Hollywood Video is my best bet. They asked the more positive questions and I was feeling most optimistic when I was filling out their application. The more applications I fill out the less confident I feel. This is not a good equation.

The MTI (Church of God [7th Day] ministry school) class I'm taking does indeed look like it's going to be a doozy. That's good, and convicting, which I wasn't looking forward too, but will doubtless be good for me.

That's all.

In Which I Quit Baker
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: Equilibrium and Sherlock Holmes
Yep, and I don't think they're too happy about it, because the guy on the phone told me I need to come talk to him. (I will, but only AFTER I drop the normal way, I'm thinking; I don't want to get railroaded into taking on $2,000 worth of debt for this.) {sigh} I don't like talking to people. I just want to get on my computer, click the DROP icon and be done with it. None of this human interaction, go somewhere to do my business junk. But for that reason this whole experiment has been worth the $25 application fee; it's gotten me out of the house.

I don't even know exactly what it is that I'm afraid of about people; I know they're not going to hurt me, I know that I can leave anytime I want, I know I'll probably never see them again, and that they'll be courteous and polite, but for some reason, they're still terrifying.

I'm sure I'll be posting updates soon, as to how this delightful interview is brought to fruition and whether or not I get a job quickly (I think I will). That's all. The end. I was going to write about other things, but I think best not said at the moment.

In Which I Make a New Entry
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: Deja Vu--Brandon Tyler
Yeah, it's been a while since I wrote a new journal entry so I thought I would.

Not a whole lot is happening yet, practically. By the end of the week I will know whether or not I'm going to college this upcoming quarter at Baker. (It all depends on whether or not they're going to give me money if I do to help with tuition; if they're not, I'm not going.) I hope they will give me money, otherwise I have the prospect of finding a fulltime job, which is just one more stress.

I'm discovering to my relief that my slowness hasn't actually been about pure laziness as much as I thought. Until I came back from living more on my own and acquiring some self-confidence, I had no idea how little I had or how much that lack was affecting my progress. I wasn't trying to do things because I didn't think there was any hope of succeeding. If I was looking for a job, before I even went in to ask for an application I was already sure they wouldn't want to hire me, and I think that contributed to my staying unemployed. I didn't believe I'd ever get a job, get through school, write successfully, take care of myself, not anything, so besides losing more confidence I also lost hope of life ever being meaningful or of me being anything but a burden to the people around me. So apparently that's why I was having such a hard time with depression the last few years, because I didn't believe there was any hope for me to lead a respectable, successful life, no hope to get any better.

Anyway, I feel much better about that now. =] So that's my happy little update.

In other news, according to quizilla, the Harry Potter wand I would own would be flexible mahogany, endowed with the magical power of a unicorn hair. Yea!

Oh, and God is working me out of the whole issue I mentioned so lugubriously in a previous post. (I actually meant "garrulously" there, but "lugubriously" sounds much more pleasant phonetically and kind of fits, too, actually.) Apparently what happened was I'd just completely lost faith that He was good or had any real intention of taking care of me . . . Actually the thought that He would feel any desire or prioritize in any way to take care of me wasn't really a possibility that had occurred to me. So slowly my mind is changing on that. So not to worry, if you were.

In Which I Make Some Observations on Having a Very Sick Loved One
Mood:  rushed
Now Playing: those emoticons are insufficient; I am rushed in some sense
Long story short, I spent most of yesterday morning from three in the morning until the afternoon with my stepdad, helping him get around and making sure he didn't stop breathing in his sleep. He has a lot of health problems, but somehow I've never really been around when something serious happened that made me needed (always at Spring Vale or something), so this was kind of my introduction, and it wasn't nice.

Some things surprised me, though. I've never felt such glowing admiration of people who choose to be EMTs as I was the other night when we had to call 911. Later that day when he decided to actually go into the hospital, I was surprised at the feeling of disgust and anger I felt at the hospital and the doctors and staff and all the nice ways they behave to help put you at ease. It wasn't even my usual, cynical they-don't-actually-care-like-that irritation, I was actually, emotionally angry with them for bringing all these sick people here, my stepdad in particular, and saying that they're sick and doing things to them, for making all these people sick like it was their. Which I completely know to be ridiculous, but that didn't change the way I felt at the time. Thankfully it did pass rather quickly and wasn't passionate enough to rouse me to action.

The little chapel they have in one small room led to through a door with a stained-glass window made me feel particularly sick and angry. I was appalled at that little window and the cross on the wall and the puffy couches I saw inside. At the moment it just seemed like a statement to all the people who pass it, desperate for someone they love to get better, that death happens here. It just seemed like a slap in the face of hope. And Pat isn't urgently desperately sick, I just imagined passing that door if I was there visiting someone very obviously dying, trying to believe that they could get better, how that might feel. And I don't feel that way now, and I imagine people don't usually feel that way. It was just an impression that surprised me. I've never hated the presence of a sanctuary before.

And it all may have had to do with the fact that I'd only had three or four hours of sleep the night before and had had a lot of excitement, which addles one.

In Which You Guys Really Don't Have to Read All of This, and I'm Frustrated
Mood:  don't ask
Angelfire ate another post.

There are other things, too. I'm not sure how to talk about them, though, and that's among the more frustrating things. And, of course, the question always arises, why talk about them anyway? It's doubtful anybody could say anything I can't say to myself, and they aren't going to be able to solve it for me, or even tell me how to solve it. There's the whole "developing relationshp" thing, but I really don't think anyone wants to hear it. And I don't think I really want to tell them.

I've been really mean lately, what with all this frustration, though. I just feel really tired of feeling like I have to apologize for what I say or do or don't do, or feel guilty for them. Every where you go, as far as church goes, there's somebody there telling you something new to feel guilty about. That's really part of the frustration problem. I'm really frustrated at God for giving me what, at the moment, seems like this long list of things I need to be and do for Him, when I can't do anything on the list. And just when despair starts to wane, something happens that brings it all back on me and the inadequacy my life and I share.

I'm so tired of feeling guilty all the time, and so angered by the thought that reality might be that the message for me is just what God told Cain, "If you do well, will not your countenance be lifted up?" when a) my problem is that I CAN'T do well, and b) that doesn't actually seem to be the case at all when I actually do do well.

I was so mad at Him last night. And I told Him so, how angry and frustrated I am, and how I know I don't actually believe any of the things the Bible says about Him, not really. I just see a lot of things that I've been working and longing for my whole life continuing to not happen, some of them just getting worse, and nothing looks good and there seems to be no hope. I don't know whether where I'm trying to go with my life (school, mainly) is good or not, but I tried to move myself in ministry directions and all I did was fail to be good, it seemed, so I saw no choice but to finally bow to the inevitable and go do what I'm actually good at. But I don't know if I'll actually be able to hack school. I find it hard to not constantly mourn the fact that this is the only avenue that seems really open to me succeeding, and it's the one that I had to abandon to get out alive (physically, spiritually, and professionally) from all my stupid mistakes, so now I don't feel adequately prepared, and school isn't the kind of thing you can go back and fix, not easily and quickly and the problem is that I'm running out of time.

This morning I woke up more or less terrified that my rant at God last night had ended my relationship with Him. That seems a little less certain to me now, but it all still feels like a terrible, terrifying, insurmountable mess.

The icing on the cake is the conviction that my life is a pile of crap because of me. That I have no vision or fruit in my life because I've been unfaithful and disobedient, and I wish so much that I didn't have to think that, or that somebody would give me some other reason that I could believe. Which brings us right back to reasons to be upset with God, because it seems like I've tried to be faithful and obedient as hard as I could . . . but I'm still not doing either well enough, and I'm getting left behind again. This is the second group of Christian friends that I've watched leave to go out and be sent, and learn and grow and accomplish, while I'm still here . . . Why can I not keep up? Why don't I just get over everything and do what I'm supposed to do?

Why is Pat sick? Why, after twenty years of praying, is Dad still not a Christian? These are actually the biggies. I don't understand. And are those two things happening because of things I haven't done? Are they because I haven't fasted, because I haven't been consistent enough about praying, because I'm not passionate enough in my actions about them?

I know we're supposed to be patient and trust God, but my faith and hope are at low ebbs right now. I know a wicked and perverted generation seeks for a sign, but that's what I am, and I really, really just want a sign that God is good, and that He does love me, and that He is taking all of this, and me, somewhere, and that I haven't screwed it all up.

In Which Change is Happening
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: O'Grady
Well, it's official. I have passed the point of no return. I turned in my two-weeks (almost two weeks) notice today. I am quitting my job, dropping my class, and moving back to Owosso. I am wild.

Except I'll be living with my parents and the purpose is to go to school fulltime.

My life would have been SO much easier the last seven years if I hadn't been trying so hard to prove myself. I would likely be done with college. Oh, no, I probably wouldn't've. It would have been a mess most likely. But now . . . now I think I might have a chance. At least I have a plan, and that's almost like a chance.

The problem is that I'm so durn lazy and proud. That's why I'm not and never would have been Ivy League. So durn lazy. Maybe if I'd gone to Lodi High all four years and ended with a 4.4 GPA (which might have happened, only bulimia would have rendered me scholastically useless before graduating, I'd wager) I could have rationally set some higher goals, but after SVA for two years, without AP classes or four to five hours of homework nightly? Forget it. I've had to ease into school again as it is, forget high-octane intellectuality.

But at least I'm not dead, seriously ill, or ever been admitted to a mental health facility. Oh, and I'm a Christian again. There's always that. =] And the nationally distributed friend network, and most of my closest friends, there's that, too, frosting on the cake.

Mike Thompson, are you still reading this? Congratulations if you've made it this far. Rachel tells me you're here, lurking, like a creep. =]

Oh, so, bottom-line, moving back home, no more children, no more bussing, and no more British literature class.

And I've only panicked a little. I wasn't sure I should go back to Owosso, what with the job and the school and friends pretty much at beck and call, even though practically this looks to be a far superior situation. Three years ago I was convinced God wanted me to move back to California, which feelings grew SO strong that at nineteen I was on the verge of selling/bagging my stuff and saving money to take a bus out there. To do I don't know what once I got there. If you know very much about me, particularly at that point, you'd know I was not actually capable of doing. My parents very gently and wisely dissuaded me, not hard since I had no desire to go. I am to this day not sure whether or not that was God, but looking at it from a rational perspective, I'd say it wasn't, it was OCD trying to ruin my life. I had a similar feeling this time, only this time junked the sensation much quicker. I'm still not sure about it, though . . . It might be scary. Not as scary as staying here, though, on further reflection.

And it's way to late, and I'm really sleepy and ate too much Valentine's chocolate. 'Tis a risky season for that.

Nothing like a long read. Good night.