"Because our hearts are so shy"

Relationships can do one of two things: Blind us to our inadequacies (via blame) or make us painfully aware of personal shortcomings. While these may seem like two mutually exclusive realities, the dichotomy is not so severe. Indeed, it's almost easy to grab hold of moral superiority all the while knowing in your heart you harbor much deeper deficiencies. Perhaps that's why we all fear being known, i.e. intimacy. It's just easier to sleep at night without the gnawing sensation that some flaw needs to be addressed. When no one knows you, there's no reason to fix yourself.

I read the Song of Solomon a short while ago. It shook me. In Searching for God Knows What, Donald Miller said salvation is actually about relationship. The Song paints a portrait of that Truth while pointing to the great human need/fear of intimacy. Which brings me to the Question that's been hounding my soul for the past nine months: Have I found the One my heart loves or will my own insecurities keep me from committing? Can time tell?

Sick cycle

According to some talking head on the news, the frequency of illness during the winter is no longer attributed to the cold weather outside; rather, people get sick because everyone is huddled inside where the air is dry from heaters. Once one person gets sick, everyone else gets sick. I have found this to be true in the last 48 hours.

Over the past week, several people in our newsroom were sick, so I was not surprised to find last night as I groggily assembled this morning's paper that I may have caught the bug. Sure enough, as the night stretched on the tightness in my throat became more of a throb. When at last the time came for my weekend to begin, I staggered out to my car feeling utterly defeated. The disease had caught me.

I awoke this morning to the distinct feeling one gets after swallowing a porcupine. And so I have spent the day chugging green tea and chicken noodle soup while laying on Cliff's couch trying desperately not to infect anything. Although my present state of discomfort reeks, I am quite thankful for several things:

--Cliff... and his couch
--My last two bags of Zen tea
--The chicken noodle soup recipe I invented two weeks ago

Life, love, labor... Missouri style

I've long neglected this little blog, but I have an excuse (and a pretty good one at that). I don't have internet access in my apartment. It's one of those things I haven't quite figured out how to fit in the budget. And with WiFi available in many public places (and in my boyfriend's apartment), my very own hookup to the information superhighway is just not a priority right now.

I am on the internet a lot at work, but that's work. One is not supposed to update one's blog at work. I think that's a Commandment. Anyway, I still read other people's blogs while I'm at work waiting for stories to come in and what not. I figure if everyone else gets cigarette breaks, I'm entitled to my blog breaks. I'm sure my lungs will thank me later.

Since last I opined, I moved to Missouri. It's been a pretty good move if you ask me. I'm still loving the newness relocation begets. I suppose in my heart I'm still a nomad.

I now live very near to Cliff and that is an incredibly wonderful thing. Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but it does absolutely nothing for the growth of a relationship. I commute an hour each way to work, which I actually enjoy and might even love if it weren't for high gas prices, scary semi-trucks and ice/snow storms. I don't have a TV, so I've been able to reconnect with one of my favorite forms of mass media, the radio. It's a pretty sweet medium for me because I can listen in my home and on the road.

Resolved

My cousin's cousin, a local fifth grader, had his New Year's resolution published in the Evansville Courier & Press. I found it humbling and inspiring and I intend to make it my own:

"In 2007, I will improve the way I treat others in my family and how I talk to them, because the way I did was not very good. I’m going to start to listen better and have a better attitude. I want to help around the house more and be more grateful."

Shadowland

"Broken wing,
Forgotten dream,
Shattered thing that a man's hands can't ever mend
Shadowland and desert sand
A [woman] searches for a love that will never die..."
--Josh Garrels

Heartache penetrates to the depths of my soul. Within me churns a raging sea of confusion and loss. This hopelessness is not necessarily a result of any direct violation against me. It is a weariness with the world that has taken root in my soul and festered to full-grown despondency. Everyday, in the oddest ways, it hits me between the eyes: this world is broken beyond repair.

This morning I read the confession of a U.S. soldier who brandished sexuality against a young Iraqi girl as a weapon of unparralleled destruction. Rape, torture, trafficking, molestation... I believe in many ways these are the most heinous crimes of our day`(if not all of history). They rob individuals of their personhood while all of society suffers as a result of their commission.

It is crimes like these and other "lesser" offenses (i.e. sex in the media) that make me wonder if love and sexuality can belong in the same sentence anymore. I hope to God they do, but my limited experience and previously mentioned world-weariness cause me to doubt. I believe the original design of sex was to express love, commitment, and unique intimacy within the marriage bed; however, that design has long been hijacked and maligned into a tool of power, control, and violence in which one party dominates another from the inside.

Nothing seems quite so sinister as that which was intended for one's good being used to reap destruction. Tis the nature of modern sexuality. Where is redemption? Now that's a concept worth pondering.

"Our brave new world..."

I taught my Grandpa how to Google this morning. The world will never be the same.

Yay for civic duty

I’ve been of voting age for four years now. It’s an age I longed to attain for, well, eighteen years. I can’t say I’m very politically savvy, but I’ve always wanted to contribute to the democratic process. I remember campaigning for President H.W. Bush in his race against Bill Clinton when I was in second grade on my school bus. We even held a mock election on my bus and Bush won by a landslide. However, the way of Bus 44 was not the way of America. I remember waking up the morning after the election to my mother scrubbing toilets. I asked her who won and was so saddened by her response I remember that solemn moment to this day. Democracy is fickle, but at least it’s fair.

Back to civic responsibility. Although I’ve been “of age” for the past several years, I’ve never actually voted. I was never a conscientious objector to the Ballot Battle. In fact, I completed the absentee ballot in 2004, but it never quite felt legit. I’d never physically huddled in a portable voting booth to make my selections for who should serve in office. Never… until now!

This moment of triumph took me back to the place I first began politicking, Highland Elementary School. After failing twice to locate the correct table at which to sign into my precinct, I made my way to the back of the gym where I had once won a cake that tasted like Styrofoam at the Spring Fling. I signed in and took my place in line behind a rather tall gentleman. He turned around and told me, “Thanks for being here!” I thought it an odd statement, but soon understood his meaning when he followed up with, “I hope more young people come out to vote.”

Young people. Yes, I look like I’m in high school but thank God I’m not. I made my selections via touch screen and was on my way, proud of my contribution to the democracy. My vote may not count for much, but voting like a grown up sure beats grade school bus antics.