Here we go again, with another update on my life before I get into the meat of my blog.
The update is: since January, when I completely fucking lost my mind, I've been playing with my medications to try and find the right balance. We thought just popping me onto Wellbutrin in the winter, then back off again in the summer would be fine, but as soon as I went off of it, I started getting manic - not happy fun manic, but angry manic, because why should I have anything good in my life? That was mostly a joke.
Anyway, I was super high anxiety, angry at myself and others, and getting these super weird suicidal urges. I have literally never had that before. I've been what I would call suicidal before, but it came from an empty place and wasn't like this. Plus, I figure if I was actually going to do it, there'd be drama. I'd put on opera and light candles and shit. I mean, you don't know for sure, but what I'm saying is, these were not like that, and were super weird. It wasn't like I was dwelling, or had a plan, it was a sudden, very strong urge to whack my head as hard as I could against any hard, smooth thing that I happened to see. Sinks, granite counter-tops, stone railings, etc. WEIRD. Also: CLEARLY A PROBLEM
So I went back to the doctor and she put me back on Wellbutrin and also on a mood stabilizer and now:
I am feeling better than I have in years. I haven't felt this good since I first went on Lamotrigine. I guess I know that my illness is degenerative, which is terrifying, but I had been on the same dose of the same medication for 6 years, and I figured I would be ok if I just kept it up forever. Not so.
I am sleeping normally and have no particular desire to drink/fuck everything, so I'm pretty sure I'm not manic. That's the most frustrating thing about this whole business.
Friday, July 29, 2016
Monday, February 1, 2016
On Identity as Cultural Appropriation
This blog is 3 1/2 years old. It is tremendously bizarre to me how far I have come in those years. I read some of my older posts and think, "I can't believe I said that!" But that's what this is. A chronicle of my life, growing up, and whatnot.
Speaking of growing up, this post is one about some oddities of my upbringing that make me uncomfortable. I swear on me mum that it is pure weird coincidence that I am writing this on the first day of black history month. I've been thinking on it for a few months but...you know, "stuff" has been "up."
The first thing you need to know is this: I am a white girl. My mom, a Lehman, is a white lady. Her mom, a Wolff, is a white lady. We're not pure German, like my dad's side, or German-Irish-Polish like Husband. We don't really know fully where we come from, but that's not important. What is important is that I joke, in the summer, about bringing back the "Elizabeth I look," and that I spent my formative years in suburban/rural Wisconsin. I am a white girl.
And yet.
Speaking of growing up, this post is one about some oddities of my upbringing that make me uncomfortable. I swear on me mum that it is pure weird coincidence that I am writing this on the first day of black history month. I've been thinking on it for a few months but...you know, "stuff" has been "up."
The first thing you need to know is this: I am a white girl. My mom, a Lehman, is a white lady. Her mom, a Wolff, is a white lady. We're not pure German, like my dad's side, or German-Irish-Polish like Husband. We don't really know fully where we come from, but that's not important. What is important is that I joke, in the summer, about bringing back the "Elizabeth I look," and that I spent my formative years in suburban/rural Wisconsin. I am a white girl.
And yet.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Poor Old Michael Finnigan, Begin Again
Well, I have settled on my excuse for not writing more lately: I was in the throes of a major depressive episode that I didn't know I was having. Or maybe I talked myself out of thinking I was having it. Because October is always bad, so obviously that was just October. And November, I was getting over October. Then the holidays are always rough, and December is a hectic mess. Then January is for getting over the holidays, so of course I was low, and also, my husband is a huge jerk. It all seemed so rational.
When I finally did figure out that I was too low, I had my reasons, and I just thought it was a slight overreaction to serious provocation. I had a prescheduled check-up with my doctor, and she put me on some Wellbutrin to boost my normal stuff, and I figured it would help a bit. I was really low by this point, crying every night before I went to bed and every morning when I got up, because, you know, I had grievances. Then a few days later, I completely lost my mind. I told Husband that I couldn't remember why I ever thought he'd loved me. I spent the next day in an impenetrable fog, working 8 hours that I mostly don't remember, so low that my coworker could hear it over the phone, so tired that I had trouble moving my body and I kept dropping things and knocking them over because I just couldn't function.
Then the next day, I woke up. I rolled over. I was...fine. Just fine. Not *All better!* Not suddenly happy, just fine. As the day went on, the horror of what I had said to my husband started to dawn on me. I still took issue with some things (we live together, this is inevitable), but none of them seemed to matter as much. Then the next day, I woke up and I was fine again, and he was still there. I told him that I ever said something like that again, he could site this incident as proof that he loved me. I said awful, horrible things to him, but he just sort of waited it out. He was still here when I came back.
I mean, I know he married me and whatever, but seriously.
When I finally did figure out that I was too low, I had my reasons, and I just thought it was a slight overreaction to serious provocation. I had a prescheduled check-up with my doctor, and she put me on some Wellbutrin to boost my normal stuff, and I figured it would help a bit. I was really low by this point, crying every night before I went to bed and every morning when I got up, because, you know, I had grievances. Then a few days later, I completely lost my mind. I told Husband that I couldn't remember why I ever thought he'd loved me. I spent the next day in an impenetrable fog, working 8 hours that I mostly don't remember, so low that my coworker could hear it over the phone, so tired that I had trouble moving my body and I kept dropping things and knocking them over because I just couldn't function.
Then the next day, I woke up. I rolled over. I was...fine. Just fine. Not *All better!* Not suddenly happy, just fine. As the day went on, the horror of what I had said to my husband started to dawn on me. I still took issue with some things (we live together, this is inevitable), but none of them seemed to matter as much. Then the next day, I woke up and I was fine again, and he was still there. I told him that I ever said something like that again, he could site this incident as proof that he loved me. I said awful, horrible things to him, but he just sort of waited it out. He was still here when I came back.
I mean, I know he married me and whatever, but seriously.
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Random Recipe Post: Historical Thanksgiving Menus
This Thanksgiving, I was ruminating on our food traditions, how it seems like it's the same every year. Not that I'm complaining! I love Thanksgiving supper soooooooooooo much. Turkey is my favorite. I love leftovers - cold turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, and bowls full of literally everything (mashed potatoes on bottom, then green beans, then cranberry, then turkey, gravy on top - oh mama).
After a little research, I figured out that the menu's been the same since...well, since forever! The ladies over at Inn at the Crossroads found a menu from 1779 that featured "Haunch of Venison, Roast Chine of Pork, Roast Turkey, Pigeon Pasties, Roast Goose, Onions in Cream, Cauliflower, Squash, Potatoes, Raw Celery, Mincemeat Pie, Pumpkin Pie, Apple Pie, Indian Pudding, Plum Pudding, (and) Cider." That's way more (and way more meat) than I've ever had, but it seems the basics, like turkey, squash, potatoes, cider, and pumpkin and apple pies were there from the beginning, and as any Wisconsinite can tell you, Venison is a Thanksgiving tradition, too!
Anyway, although the basics have been the same, I thought it might be fun to construct a couple menus featuring recipes, cooking methods, and supplies from our nation's past. I have one menu from each century. I will admit that in order to make the recipes distinct, I started to ignore old standbys, but I think I've done a good job balancing the traditional with the merely old-timey. I haven't done extensive research, but I've spent a good day or so on each one. If anyone has any suggestions for additions or improvements, let me know! I found the project really diverting, and am thinking about maybe attempting these menus when I have kids, as a little history learning exercise once a year or so.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
On Memory, Inevitability, and Healing from Wounds You Didn't Know You Had
(Consider this a warning, both for the length of this post, and for triggering material)
If I could go back in time, there are not many things I'd change. Mostly because you can't know how little changes might affect you, and in making changes to my past, I'd be killing myself. Which is all nonsense, as every time I see sci-fi shows where someone is faced with helping the heroes put back the past, they struggle with the knowledge that they will kill themselves in the process, and I think, "Well that's dumb. Don't they know it's better this way?" But that's not the point. Better or not, at the end, you become a new person, and whoever you would have become down that alternate timeline, whether they liked themselves or not, whether they were a good person or not, they are dead. Chances are, it was not so straightforward - everyone is a mix of good and bad, everyone likes and dislikes themselves or part of themselves at times. Maybe weathering this battle made them better and stronger, and although the whole world is better because the battle never happened, something will be missing from this version of that one person. They are dead.
If I could go back in time, I've said before that there were things about my wedding I would change. Certain things that I had fixed in my head that were unnecessary, because at the time, I was a staunch traditionalist. I still am, in my way. I debated for a long time whether to have my mom or my step-dad walk me down the aisle. My mom has been there for me forever. She's always been my primary parent. At the same time, my step-dad and I had formed a close bond, and he had been my dad for 20 years. I chose him, in my own way symbolically adopting him. I chose him.
When he walked me down the aisle, he was already cheating on my mom. He was already in the process of ruining everything. When it all came out, the world fell down around my ears - the narratives I'd built up about second chances, about religious conversion, about all kinds of things. For those reasons, I would go back and not choose him. For a while, I thought I should have chosen my mom. Now, I think, I would choose no one.
If I could go back in time, there are not many things I'd change. Mostly because you can't know how little changes might affect you, and in making changes to my past, I'd be killing myself. Which is all nonsense, as every time I see sci-fi shows where someone is faced with helping the heroes put back the past, they struggle with the knowledge that they will kill themselves in the process, and I think, "Well that's dumb. Don't they know it's better this way?" But that's not the point. Better or not, at the end, you become a new person, and whoever you would have become down that alternate timeline, whether they liked themselves or not, whether they were a good person or not, they are dead. Chances are, it was not so straightforward - everyone is a mix of good and bad, everyone likes and dislikes themselves or part of themselves at times. Maybe weathering this battle made them better and stronger, and although the whole world is better because the battle never happened, something will be missing from this version of that one person. They are dead.
If I could go back in time, I've said before that there were things about my wedding I would change. Certain things that I had fixed in my head that were unnecessary, because at the time, I was a staunch traditionalist. I still am, in my way. I debated for a long time whether to have my mom or my step-dad walk me down the aisle. My mom has been there for me forever. She's always been my primary parent. At the same time, my step-dad and I had formed a close bond, and he had been my dad for 20 years. I chose him, in my own way symbolically adopting him. I chose him.
When he walked me down the aisle, he was already cheating on my mom. He was already in the process of ruining everything. When it all came out, the world fell down around my ears - the narratives I'd built up about second chances, about religious conversion, about all kinds of things. For those reasons, I would go back and not choose him. For a while, I thought I should have chosen my mom. Now, I think, I would choose no one.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Once Upon a Time, My Life
I really should have known that adjusting to a new position would hinder my ability to write as often as I'd like. However, I'm getting better at the job and just adjusting in general - not that the job is that hard or that stressful, just that things need adjusted to, I guess, so I've been coming home for 3 months with no desire to cook or write or interact with humans or do anything other than watch tv or play video games. And that's ok.
I sometimes worry that being ok with my own laziness will carry me away. My mom always complains that I'm not "ambitious," but I do like to always be looking for that "next thing" - graduated HS, next is college; out of college, next is job; have husband, next is baby; have job, next is promotion; have degree, next is grad school - and on and on ad infinitum. It is so. gorram. hard. for me to just enjoy life at the point it is now. It's partially Adventure! and partially Anxiety! and partially Boredom! - no, wait, just boredom. Stillness is not in my nature. So to sit and chill seems like a great concession for me.
At the same time, movement for the sake of movement hardly counts as anything. That's what I feel like I'm doing. The next thing, the next thing, the next thing - what is that thing? Doesn't matter. It's Next. New. Different. Sometimes I feel like a hamster on a wheel. And when a hamster climbs off the wheel and chills with his water bottle in his little blue plastic hut, has he deserved his rest?
IDK, MAN!
I fear that I am too careful with myself. Since finding out about my mental illness, since I started getting migraines, I give myself permission to rest. I let myself rely on Husband for things that stress me out (like leaving the house - I go to work, I come home. He does the shopping, he runs the errands, etc.). I give myself permission to flake out on plans when having friends is just too much for me. It's true that I have some conditions, and it's true that I work hard, and it's true that I have been perhaps too self-reliant for too long, but I worry that if I give myself enough leeway, I'll collapse into a pile of useless mush or something. (That happens to people, right?)
THEN AGAIN, I got a new job, then a year later, got a promotion. I'm only 3 months in. I'm just now getting to the point of comfortableness, and I'm coming back out of my shell a little. Adjustment is hard, and it's been a busy year-or-so for adjustments. Maybe I need to lay off myself.
Anyway, here's my latest slew of quarter-life crises for your enjoyment:
I sometimes worry that being ok with my own laziness will carry me away. My mom always complains that I'm not "ambitious," but I do like to always be looking for that "next thing" - graduated HS, next is college; out of college, next is job; have husband, next is baby; have job, next is promotion; have degree, next is grad school - and on and on ad infinitum. It is so. gorram. hard. for me to just enjoy life at the point it is now. It's partially Adventure! and partially Anxiety! and partially Boredom! - no, wait, just boredom. Stillness is not in my nature. So to sit and chill seems like a great concession for me.
At the same time, movement for the sake of movement hardly counts as anything. That's what I feel like I'm doing. The next thing, the next thing, the next thing - what is that thing? Doesn't matter. It's Next. New. Different. Sometimes I feel like a hamster on a wheel. And when a hamster climbs off the wheel and chills with his water bottle in his little blue plastic hut, has he deserved his rest?
IDK, MAN!
I fear that I am too careful with myself. Since finding out about my mental illness, since I started getting migraines, I give myself permission to rest. I let myself rely on Husband for things that stress me out (like leaving the house - I go to work, I come home. He does the shopping, he runs the errands, etc.). I give myself permission to flake out on plans when having friends is just too much for me. It's true that I have some conditions, and it's true that I work hard, and it's true that I have been perhaps too self-reliant for too long, but I worry that if I give myself enough leeway, I'll collapse into a pile of useless mush or something. (That happens to people, right?)
THEN AGAIN, I got a new job, then a year later, got a promotion. I'm only 3 months in. I'm just now getting to the point of comfortableness, and I'm coming back out of my shell a little. Adjustment is hard, and it's been a busy year-or-so for adjustments. Maybe I need to lay off myself.
Anyway, here's my latest slew of quarter-life crises for your enjoyment:
Thursday, July 23, 2015
On "Encouragement"
Hi,
I am a member of the Bd. of Elders at GS [that's my church. Don't worry, it took me a second, too] and want to encourage you to take advantage of the blessings to worship and commune at GS. Our records show that Linfalas last attended church on 4/5/15 and last communed on 9/14/14. Husband last attended GS on 5/31/15 and last communed on 5/10/15. There may be a mistake in our records but this is what they show.
Both of you know how important it is to stay close to your Savior. He has done great things for all of us and we are forever grateful. Attending church and communing regularly is clearly a way of demonstrating our love and thankfulness and is a fruit of our faith. This Sunday we will celebrate the Lord's Supper at all of our services. Please make an effort to attend Sunday or in the very near future.
May God bless you.
[NAME REDACTED]
I am a member of the Bd. of Elders at GS [that's my church. Don't worry, it took me a second, too] and want to encourage you to take advantage of the blessings to worship and commune at GS. Our records show that Linfalas last attended church on 4/5/15 and last communed on 9/14/14. Husband last attended GS on 5/31/15 and last communed on 5/10/15. There may be a mistake in our records but this is what they show.
Both of you know how important it is to stay close to your Savior. He has done great things for all of us and we are forever grateful. Attending church and communing regularly is clearly a way of demonstrating our love and thankfulness and is a fruit of our faith. This Sunday we will celebrate the Lord's Supper at all of our services. Please make an effort to attend Sunday or in the very near future.
May God bless you.
[NAME REDACTED]
Monday, May 11, 2015
Recipe Post: Random-Shit-I-Found-in-My-House Soup...Mmm!
Oh man, you guys. I am a mad genius.
Growing up, I was always amazed by my mom's ability to throw some random leftovers together and make something more delicious out of them. She's mad wizard - Fact. I've been getting better at this skill since I've been cooking regularly (even though I almost always cook using some kind of recipe template because I love to explore - but leftovers are a different business.)
So anyway, I was always jealous, but I no longer need to be. I just made the best soup. (Though, lesbianest, soup is hard to fuck up. Sshhh.) However, since I'm a storyteller, let me guide you through the process of mad science:
Step 1: Realize that your husband is too lazy to tear chunks of fully-cooked chicken off the carcass to stuff into his face, and therefor your leftover roast chicken will just never get eaten if you don't step in. Decide to make soup out of it, even though Husband doesn't like soup, because you're hungry and lazy.
Growing up, I was always amazed by my mom's ability to throw some random leftovers together and make something more delicious out of them. She's mad wizard - Fact. I've been getting better at this skill since I've been cooking regularly (even though I almost always cook using some kind of recipe template because I love to explore - but leftovers are a different business.)
So anyway, I was always jealous, but I no longer need to be. I just made the best soup. (Though, lesbianest, soup is hard to fuck up. Sshhh.) However, since I'm a storyteller, let me guide you through the process of mad science:
Step 1: Realize that your husband is too lazy to tear chunks of fully-cooked chicken off the carcass to stuff into his face, and therefor your leftover roast chicken will just never get eaten if you don't step in. Decide to make soup out of it, even though Husband doesn't like soup, because you're hungry and lazy.
Monday, April 20, 2015
On Art and Universality
Ugh, my life.
You'd think that for how busy I've kept myself for the last 7 years, doing ONLY ONE THING would just be so relaxing and time would float by like a pea blossom borne aloft on a summer's breeze. Actual fact: Despite not being in school and despite not planning a wedding and despite not renovating a house and despite only working full-time, I feel like this past year has flown by with preternatural speed. TIME, man. It keeps HAPPENING.
As a result, there are quite a few people that I just haven't gotten around to seeing all year, and I finally cracked and broke my "post a blog post at least once a month please, slacker," routine.
I'm still plugging away at grad school research and whatnot, which is an anxiety attack for another day. I'm also still seeking a new church, which is just so much harder than I thought it was going to be. (That's not to say that I'm going back. I'm never going back.)
Today, I want to talk about ART again, because I've had further thoughts.
You'd think that for how busy I've kept myself for the last 7 years, doing ONLY ONE THING would just be so relaxing and time would float by like a pea blossom borne aloft on a summer's breeze. Actual fact: Despite not being in school and despite not planning a wedding and despite not renovating a house and despite only working full-time, I feel like this past year has flown by with preternatural speed. TIME, man. It keeps HAPPENING.
As a result, there are quite a few people that I just haven't gotten around to seeing all year, and I finally cracked and broke my "post a blog post at least once a month please, slacker," routine.
I'm still plugging away at grad school research and whatnot, which is an anxiety attack for another day. I'm also still seeking a new church, which is just so much harder than I thought it was going to be. (That's not to say that I'm going back. I'm never going back.)
Today, I want to talk about ART again, because I've had further thoughts.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Can We All Just Calm Down for a Second?
I'm really happy right now. I've been feeling good for a couple weeks. Good enough, in fact, that my brain is trying to find ways to sabotage my happiness, because it knows that for every happy moment I steal, there's hell to pay later. The devil gets his due.
SHUT UP, BRAIN and let me be happy. So that's something I'm working on. (I'm now going to update y'all on my life now, but the real meat of the post is farther down, in case you want to skip it. Or whatever. I don't tell you what to do.)
I'm really enjoying my job. It's only-just-above-minimum-wage at Starbucks, but I'm getting 2 raises in the coming months (one for being there 6 months and one because everybody at Starbucks is getting a raise in January - people are rumbling about raising the minimum wage, so I imagine they're trying to get ahead of that so it's not such a blow when it does happen. Good for them. Good for me). I think that some of the enjoyment comes from just being an employee again - I know exactly what is expected of me at all times, there are no ambiguous social situations to navigate, and I don't have to be in charge of anyone. It's much less stressful.
My last job pretty much required a codependent attitude in order to survive. I was basically on-call every day - if they needed help, I was the only person who could come in. It's kind of nice to be so desperately needed, but you can never really relax when you know that a call could come in at any hour and you'd be needed - and you can't really say no. Part of this is because we were such a small unit that we couldn't really afford to hire any more people, part of it was some issues with "upper management." But seriously - I'm not an EMT, I was working in a college cafeteria. Ain't nobody got time to cut years off their life with the stress from that bull. Beyond that, I feel like there was so much time there when I wasn't sure what was expected of me moment to moment, and we didn't get regular reviews, so it was hard to tell if you were doing good, bad, or indifferent. You were fine until suddenly everything you did was terrible, then you'd get ignored for another 5 months. It was weird, and stressful, again, to never know when the hammer would come down. So between that and being "on-call," just every minute of on and off time was filled with anxiety. Yuck.
Starbucks is working out great so far. I can ask for days off! I work with only nice people (who can ever say that? Me! Right now!) I am good at this stuff. I can relax when I'm home - be home at home and work at work. Plus, free lattes ;) And tips! And healthcare!
But anyway, the point of this post right now is to talk about my "biological clock" and how it needs to shut itself right the hell up. (Not a Sparrow Falls...you might not want to proceed).
Friday, November 7, 2014
One of the great fears among a life of great fears...
"One of the great fears among a life of great fears, perhaps the last great fear is the fear of being no longer useful. We find a role in life, and we do that role to the best of our ability for as long as that ability is there. But all of us — even me, dear listeners — will someday hit a point where we no longer are able to do that thing that we define ourselves by doing. And more than the fear of injury, more than the fear of death, this is the fear that looms. The loss of self. The self that is self we imagined we were our whole lives. But we were never that self, not really. We were only a series of selves, living one role and then leaving it for another. And all the time convincing ourselves that there was no change. That we were always the same person, living the same life. One arc to a finish, not the stutter-stop improvisation that is our actual lives.
Worry less about the person you once were. Or the person you dream you someday will be. Worry about the person you are now. Or don’t even worry! Just be that person. Be the best version of that person you can be. Be a better version than any of the other versions in any of the many parallel universes. Check regularly online to see the rankings."
--Cecil Baldwin, Welcome to Nightvale
That's all for today, just that quote. Because I found, when I listened to this episode, that I needed it. Here it is, in case I need it again. Here it is, in case you need it, now and again.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Leaving the WELS, Never Easy
So, working at Starbucks is killing my writing. Not that I was doing a ton of that anyway, but I'm a night owl, and my writing-brain usually turns on between 7:30 and 9, which is prime bed-time for me now.
Which is not to say that I don't love my job, because I do. I work with only nice people (for the first time in my life - and I'm not exaggerating - literally, ONLY nice people. Awesome!) I have benefits. It's tough supporting both myself and Husband on near-minimum-wage, but with food stamps (so great) and a little help from the parents, we're doing ok while he continues his job search.
Obviously, this post isn't about any of this.
The title comes from an REM song that I like. It's not my favorite, but when the day arrives that I can't think of an REM song that's at least mildly related to the topic at hand, I might as well just stop living. I like REM, is my point. Also, the lead singer from REM looks a bit like a bald, sad Ewan McGregor, which is a fact that the world must acknowledge.
That's still not what this was meant to be about. I suck at this blog crap.
Well, to be honest, I'm dancing around this because I'm at a weird crossroads and there's religious and personal and bitter and scary stuff all tied up in it, so I'm avoiding talking about it.
I've decided to leave the WELS, the church body that I was raised in.
Which is not to say that I don't love my job, because I do. I work with only nice people (for the first time in my life - and I'm not exaggerating - literally, ONLY nice people. Awesome!) I have benefits. It's tough supporting both myself and Husband on near-minimum-wage, but with food stamps (so great) and a little help from the parents, we're doing ok while he continues his job search.
Obviously, this post isn't about any of this.
The title comes from an REM song that I like. It's not my favorite, but when the day arrives that I can't think of an REM song that's at least mildly related to the topic at hand, I might as well just stop living. I like REM, is my point. Also, the lead singer from REM looks a bit like a bald, sad Ewan McGregor, which is a fact that the world must acknowledge.
That's still not what this was meant to be about. I suck at this blog crap.
Well, to be honest, I'm dancing around this because I'm at a weird crossroads and there's religious and personal and bitter and scary stuff all tied up in it, so I'm avoiding talking about it.
I've decided to leave the WELS, the church body that I was raised in.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
My (Very, Very Incomplete) Thoughts on Abortion
Here's another one that's been mulling in my mind for a long time now. My 3 regular readers (Hi guys!) have seen it pop up a few times as I have begun to contemplate it. It's about abortion. Eeww. I'm not sure how much my opinions have changed, but I am aware that they are on the move. So here's my brain as it grapples with an incredibly difficult and divisive issue.
(Another opinion that's on the move for me is my affiliation with the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod. I'm not going to write about that now, but I will when I've had a chance to think through it better and gather my thoughts...but I'm actively seeking a LCMS church to attend in my area. So, not a huge change, I know - I'm Lutheran, dammit, and I loves me some liturgy, so there's only so far I can drift.)
ANYWAY
What started it is this article: When evangelicals were pro-choice. Here's the juicy bit (verses, as always, linked for your convenience):
(Another opinion that's on the move for me is my affiliation with the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod. I'm not going to write about that now, but I will when I've had a chance to think through it better and gather my thoughts...but I'm actively seeking a LCMS church to attend in my area. So, not a huge change, I know - I'm Lutheran, dammit, and I loves me some liturgy, so there's only so far I can drift.)
ANYWAY
What started it is this article: When evangelicals were pro-choice. Here's the juicy bit (verses, as always, linked for your convenience):
"In 1968, Christianity Today published a special issue on contraception and abortion, encapsulating the consensus among evangelical thinkers at the time. In the leading article, professor Bruce Waltke, of the famously conservative Dallas Theological Seminary, explained the Bible plainly teaches that life begins at birth:
“God does not regard the fetus as a soul, no matter how far gestation has progressed. The Law plainly exacts: 'If a man kills any human life he will be put to death' (Lev. 24:17). But according to Exodus 21:22–24, the destruction of the fetus is not a capital offense… Clearly, then, in contrast to the mother, the fetus is not reckoned as a soul.”
The magazine Christian Life agreed, insisting, “The Bible definitely pinpoints a difference in the value of a fetus and an adult.” And the Southern Baptist Convention passed a 1971 resolution affirming abortion should be legal not only to protect the life of the mother, but to protect her emotional health as well."
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Whoa!
Ok, so this is a sort of non-post post. I've been dealing with some shit in my personal life that's put me behind, and also I'm working on a post dealing with abortion, even though I'm pretty sure no one wants that, because, quite often, writing these things is how I sort them out myself, in my own head. I need to do that. That topic, however, is WAY more tangled and confusing than anything I've tackled thus far, to my own very great surprise.
Anyway, I caught wind of a fabulous discussion happening in my vicinity, and thought I'd share part of it with you (none of it is my own words).
I have an internet friend who is a cultural Jew, an actual atheist, an expert historian on Victorian sexuality (specifically same-sex relations [if I understand that correctly]), a regular Anglican church attendee (while she was in Cambridge), and an all-around interesting, thoughtful, and lovely liberal person. She undertook to read the Bible, in an attempt to understand more of her own heritage and the prevailing cultural norm, etc. I have great respect for that - not a lot of people would do it (Interesting! Thoughtful! Lovely!) She's been posting little updates and questions as she goes. Today's was this:
Anyway, I caught wind of a fabulous discussion happening in my vicinity, and thought I'd share part of it with you (none of it is my own words).
I have an internet friend who is a cultural Jew, an actual atheist, an expert historian on Victorian sexuality (specifically same-sex relations [if I understand that correctly]), a regular Anglican church attendee (while she was in Cambridge), and an all-around interesting, thoughtful, and lovely liberal person. She undertook to read the Bible, in an attempt to understand more of her own heritage and the prevailing cultural norm, etc. I have great respect for that - not a lot of people would do it (Interesting! Thoughtful! Lovely!) She's been posting little updates and questions as she goes. Today's was this:
"My jaw drops lower with each chapter of Leviticus, which manages to top the last in moral precepts completely and utterly at odds with the world I live in. Liberal members of the Abrahamic faiths, how do you even cope with the fact that this text is a central part of your scriptural tradition?!
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Oyster Man
Ok, here's another fiction piece. It's one I've been holding back for a while, because I can't quite get it right, but I think that maybe this is as good as it's going to get. It's not bad, but it's not as beautiful or as salty as it is in my head. Anyway, it's called Oyster Man, for no reason whatsoever:
In my dreams, I see the future. I don’t know how, or why, but I know that if I want to keep doing it, I have to stay pure. I know this the way one knows things in a dream, without needing to be told, without doubting the veracity. So I have my little rituals. I stay clean, I don’t touch other people, I only buy certain brands of clothing, that sort of thing. I always know what to do. A few of the prohibitions rankle me, but the reward is so very worth the price.
In my dreams, I am alive. Vibrantly, shiningly, gloriously alive in the way one can’t be alive in life. My life is Plato’s cave, but in my dreams, I see Truth. Everything I dream is true, comes true. Every single thing.
She came to me one night in my dreams. I stood on my balcony and She walked down the telephone wire to get to me. Her hair was black, Her lips were red, and Her eyes were the sea itself, liquid and profound. She wanted me for Herself. “Come with me,” She said, “Dream for me. I can give you freedom. Freedom to dream, freedom from purity,” But I don’t let Her finish. I turn and open the sliding glass door. I do not trust Her. I dream only for myself.
In my dream, the storm whips around me. She calls out my name, 3 times. “Amos! Amos! Amos!” I turn my back and begin to go inside. My vision blurs.
My dreams are never indistinct.
Cold wind blows the rain into my apartment. Papers fly. Huge gusts knock over my bookshelf and send me sprawling. I turn my head to look back, shielding my eyes with one hand, and my vision clears. She drops her arms and the wind dies and she is gone. I wake in a sweat. I spend the rest of the night tossing in bed.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
The Innkeep's Perspective
So, here's a bit of fiction. It's from a writing prompt where you're supposed to talk about a historical event from the perspective of someone in the time - I went with a random innkeeper in the town of Gevaudan, between the royal hunters' supposed killing of the beast and Jean Chastel's supposed killing of the beast. It was mostly a practice in dialogue (or monologue, I guess). But here it be, hope you enjoy it.
"I don’t think much of it, either. It’s been a year since those fancy sods left, taking their prize with them. 'Msgr. Jean Charles Marc Antoine Vaumesle d'Enneval' gets to take his fancy new titles and his great big sack of money and settle down. It wasn’t even 3 months later there was another attack, but nope! The beast’s dead! Musta been something else hurt those little girls.
"I don’t think much of it, either. It’s been a year since those fancy sods left, taking their prize with them. 'Msgr. Jean Charles Marc Antoine Vaumesle d'Enneval' gets to take his fancy new titles and his great big sack of money and settle down. It wasn’t even 3 months later there was another attack, but nope! The beast’s dead! Musta been something else hurt those little girls.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Short Hair, Don't Care
THIS:
From the comments:
"What about saving your body for your future husband?"
Well, looking at something doesn't mean you own it. Exposing something doesn't mean you share it. This is why you neighbor doesn't occasionally drive your car to work, even if it's sitting in your driveway every day.
And while we're on this metaphor, can we stop comparing women to cars and, occasionally, cows? Weirdly, people are different than objects. The fact that we can compare a woman to a car and then go on, in the same metaphor, to show how cars are more respected is really, truly alarming.
"But your body doesn't belong to you, it belongs to God and your husband."
First of all, if you're so concerned that I'm desecrating the holy temple that is my body, I hope you're really, really fit. Like, mostly vegetarian, working out several times a week kind of fit. Anyway, God said to be "modest." Modesty is cultural. Paul talks about braiding hair or not having short hair, and we tend to ignore those rules because, really? Who thinks about hair that much? Ancient Romans, evidently. Modesty is a moving target.
I would argue that the intent of the exhortations on modesty had more to do with the intent of the one being modest. Why are you wearing that? Because it's comfortable? Because you like it? Or to attract sexual attention? I have a baggy hoodie that I have worn, on purpose, to attract sexual attention, back in my naughtier days. It may sound odd, but it worked like a charm. No one on earth would have called that sweater "immodest," but it was, because I was immodest in my intent.
Also, a man's body is also God's, but nobody shames them for jogging shirtless. Or wearing basketball shorts with nothing underneath (one of my favorites). So let's not pretend this article isn't relevant.
As to your body belonging to your husband, his body also belongs to you. Read the WHOLE VERSE. It's not about possession. It's about mutual respect, commitment, and taking care of each other. It's about - wait for it - consent. Consent. Good word, consent. We should talk about consent more often. Because consent is important! Boy, do I like consent. It's weird that consent seems to be something only "the left" or "the feminazis" are talking about, because consent is right there in the Bible. Inside marriage, consent is still a thing. Wow! Consent! (Ok, I'm done now.)
"Men and women are different. Women don't think that way...Something something Testosterone" (also, any comment where womens' "lust" is put in "quotes" like a "unicorn" who "doesn't exist")
I'm sorry, have you met me? Here's an awkward fact: I have only once dated a man who could match me in sex drive. Not that it's a big pool, but that's like 25%, so still less than half. So don't talk to me about women having less of a need for sex.
Also, where is that in the Bible? Where does it say that men and women are innately built to be different? I haven't figured that one out yet.
"Women can't be sexist!" (A complaint that an article written by a woman was one of those satirized)
Yes, in fact, they can. Next question
"Paul argues against tempting others in 1 Cor 8"
This is an interesting passage, and I tend to view part of it as evidence that sin is whatever we think it is - that is, if something is not specifically forbidden by scripture, but we, for some reason, think it's a sin, then do it anyway, we actually have sinned, even if it wasn't originally a sin. That's a whole different discussion, with so many tangents and dangerous arguments, but I'm well aware of the verse.
Anyway, Paul is talking about peer pressure. If we were to apply this to clothing, it wouldn't be: That person is wearing a short skirt -> I'm going to go have lust over here and/or I guess it's ok to rape her. It would be: As a lady, I notice that that person is wearing a short skirt, which I think is a sin -> But if she's doing it, I should too -> Oh no, I'm wearing a short skirt and now I have sinned. We should, certainly avoid causing our brothers and sisters in Christ to sin. However, we simply can't have enough knowledge of a complete stranger's tastes and moral standing. We do our best. But the amount of shaming that flies around about this one thing is ridiculous.
So: If you have a male friend, and you know he has a thing for, say, tennis skirts, maybe don't wear a tennis skirt around him. Maybe don't play tennis with him. But if you're playing tennis with other people, don't feel like you have to wear sweat pants just to avoid having complete strangers lust over you. Play tennis like a human.
WHY CAN'T WE ALL JUST BE HUMANS?
I don't know, It's like 6pm and I work at Starbucks now, so I'm too tired to end this post because it's almost bedtime and I haven't eaten supper yet. I just got all...infuriated on my insides while reading the comments to this awesome satirical article. I don't know why I went down there. YOU NEVER GO DOWN THERE. I wasn't even going to do this tonight. LEAVE ME ALONE, WORLD.
Um...
KBYE
When
Suits Become a Stumbling Block: A Plea to My Brothers in Christ - See
more at:
http://thesaltcollective.org/modesty-whensuitsbecomestumblingblock/#sthash.z16WBDam.dpuf
When Suits Become Stumbling Blocks: A Plea to My Brothers in Christ
Read it. Savor it. Then go, and sin no more.
From the comments:
"What about saving your body for your future husband?"
Well, looking at something doesn't mean you own it. Exposing something doesn't mean you share it. This is why you neighbor doesn't occasionally drive your car to work, even if it's sitting in your driveway every day.
And while we're on this metaphor, can we stop comparing women to cars and, occasionally, cows? Weirdly, people are different than objects. The fact that we can compare a woman to a car and then go on, in the same metaphor, to show how cars are more respected is really, truly alarming.
"But your body doesn't belong to you, it belongs to God and your husband."
First of all, if you're so concerned that I'm desecrating the holy temple that is my body, I hope you're really, really fit. Like, mostly vegetarian, working out several times a week kind of fit. Anyway, God said to be "modest." Modesty is cultural. Paul talks about braiding hair or not having short hair, and we tend to ignore those rules because, really? Who thinks about hair that much? Ancient Romans, evidently. Modesty is a moving target.
I would argue that the intent of the exhortations on modesty had more to do with the intent of the one being modest. Why are you wearing that? Because it's comfortable? Because you like it? Or to attract sexual attention? I have a baggy hoodie that I have worn, on purpose, to attract sexual attention, back in my naughtier days. It may sound odd, but it worked like a charm. No one on earth would have called that sweater "immodest," but it was, because I was immodest in my intent.
Also, a man's body is also God's, but nobody shames them for jogging shirtless. Or wearing basketball shorts with nothing underneath (one of my favorites). So let's not pretend this article isn't relevant.
As to your body belonging to your husband, his body also belongs to you. Read the WHOLE VERSE. It's not about possession. It's about mutual respect, commitment, and taking care of each other. It's about - wait for it - consent. Consent. Good word, consent. We should talk about consent more often. Because consent is important! Boy, do I like consent. It's weird that consent seems to be something only "the left" or "the feminazis" are talking about, because consent is right there in the Bible. Inside marriage, consent is still a thing. Wow! Consent! (Ok, I'm done now.)
"Men and women are different. Women don't think that way...Something something Testosterone" (also, any comment where womens' "lust" is put in "quotes" like a "unicorn" who "doesn't exist")
I'm sorry, have you met me? Here's an awkward fact: I have only once dated a man who could match me in sex drive. Not that it's a big pool, but that's like 25%, so still less than half. So don't talk to me about women having less of a need for sex.
Also, where is that in the Bible? Where does it say that men and women are innately built to be different? I haven't figured that one out yet.
"Women can't be sexist!" (A complaint that an article written by a woman was one of those satirized)
Yes, in fact, they can. Next question
"Paul argues against tempting others in 1 Cor 8"
This is an interesting passage, and I tend to view part of it as evidence that sin is whatever we think it is - that is, if something is not specifically forbidden by scripture, but we, for some reason, think it's a sin, then do it anyway, we actually have sinned, even if it wasn't originally a sin. That's a whole different discussion, with so many tangents and dangerous arguments, but I'm well aware of the verse.
Anyway, Paul is talking about peer pressure. If we were to apply this to clothing, it wouldn't be: That person is wearing a short skirt -> I'm going to go have lust over here and/or I guess it's ok to rape her. It would be: As a lady, I notice that that person is wearing a short skirt, which I think is a sin -> But if she's doing it, I should too -> Oh no, I'm wearing a short skirt and now I have sinned. We should, certainly avoid causing our brothers and sisters in Christ to sin. However, we simply can't have enough knowledge of a complete stranger's tastes and moral standing. We do our best. But the amount of shaming that flies around about this one thing is ridiculous.
So: If you have a male friend, and you know he has a thing for, say, tennis skirts, maybe don't wear a tennis skirt around him. Maybe don't play tennis with him. But if you're playing tennis with other people, don't feel like you have to wear sweat pants just to avoid having complete strangers lust over you. Play tennis like a human.
WHY CAN'T WE ALL JUST BE HUMANS?
I don't know, It's like 6pm and I work at Starbucks now, so I'm too tired to end this post because it's almost bedtime and I haven't eaten supper yet. I just got all...infuriated on my insides while reading the comments to this awesome satirical article. I don't know why I went down there. YOU NEVER GO DOWN THERE. I wasn't even going to do this tonight. LEAVE ME ALONE, WORLD.
Um...
KBYE
This
is one of the most misunderstood teachings in Christianity… Christians
believe that our bodies, in marriage, belong to ONE ANOTHER. Not “your
body belongs to your husband” or “to your wife”, but to each other. ..
which means you are to treat one another with the utmost in respect and
love.
It’s not about possession. It’s about commitment and mutual respect.
- See more at: http://thesaltcollective.org/modesty-whensuitsbecomestumblingblock/#sthash.z16WBDam.dpuf
It’s not about possession. It’s about commitment and mutual respect.
- See more at: http://thesaltcollective.org/modesty-whensuitsbecomestumblingblock/#sthash.z16WBDam.dpuf
This
is one of the most misunderstood teachings in Christianity… Christians
believe that our bodies, in marriage, belong to ONE ANOTHER. Not “your
body belongs to your husband” or “to your wife”, but to each other. ..
which means you are to treat one another with the utmost in respect and
love.
It’s not about possession. It’s about commitment and mutual respect.
- See more at: http://thesaltcollective.org/modesty-whensuitsbecomestumblingblock/#sthash.z16WBDam.dpuf
It’s not about possession. It’s about commitment and mutual respect.
- See more at: http://thesaltcollective.org/modesty-whensuitsbecomestumblingblock/#sthash.z16WBDam.dpuf
When
Suits Become a Stumbling Block: A Plea to My Brothers in Christ - See
more at:
http://thesaltcollective.org/modesty-whensuitsbecomestumblingblock/#sthash.z16WBDam.dpuf
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Grief, Anger, Prayer
Here's one that's been mulling a while as well. Another big one, like the forgiveness thing. It comes from places very personal to people close to me.
My mom is going through a very painful (and biblically sanctioned) divorce right now - after 20 years of marriage. It's a difficult process anyway, but made all the more difficult by an unsupportive pastor, a soon-to-be-ex-husband who continues to disrespect her, and a community of fellow Christians who judge her for being angry.
At the same time, I have friends who recently found out that they can't have children. Perhaps they'll adopt or take some other option, but for now, I imagine it hits like a betrayal. A betrayal of one's own body, and even a betrayal by the One who made those bodies. A strong Christian couple, who I have no doubt would be awesome parents - how can He do this to them? Here again, there are people - fellow Christians - who want to say, "You shouldn't be angry."
Now honestly, I have no real clue what the people in either of my stories is going through. I haven't had to go through anything like that myself. But I know grief, and that's what this is. People talk about grief in situations of death, but it can (obviously, I would think) be relevant to other situations as well. It's still death, of a sort - death of a marriage, of a dream, whathaveyou. The Bible certainly takes such things seriously - barrenness and adultery are used frequently as illustrations and examples of bad things in the Bible.
Now, I've got 3 things all tangled together in my mind as a result of this - Grief, Prayer, and and Anger. What is grief? Is grief different for a Christian? How do grief and anger affect prayer? Is it ok to be angry? Is it ok to be angry at God?
My mom is going through a very painful (and biblically sanctioned) divorce right now - after 20 years of marriage. It's a difficult process anyway, but made all the more difficult by an unsupportive pastor, a soon-to-be-ex-husband who continues to disrespect her, and a community of fellow Christians who judge her for being angry.
At the same time, I have friends who recently found out that they can't have children. Perhaps they'll adopt or take some other option, but for now, I imagine it hits like a betrayal. A betrayal of one's own body, and even a betrayal by the One who made those bodies. A strong Christian couple, who I have no doubt would be awesome parents - how can He do this to them? Here again, there are people - fellow Christians - who want to say, "You shouldn't be angry."
Now honestly, I have no real clue what the people in either of my stories is going through. I haven't had to go through anything like that myself. But I know grief, and that's what this is. People talk about grief in situations of death, but it can (obviously, I would think) be relevant to other situations as well. It's still death, of a sort - death of a marriage, of a dream, whathaveyou. The Bible certainly takes such things seriously - barrenness and adultery are used frequently as illustrations and examples of bad things in the Bible.
Now, I've got 3 things all tangled together in my mind as a result of this - Grief, Prayer, and and Anger. What is grief? Is grief different for a Christian? How do grief and anger affect prayer? Is it ok to be angry? Is it ok to be angry at God?
Sunday, May 11, 2014
FORGIVENESS is a Big Freaking Word
This is a long one, and one that's been mulling for a long time. I still don't know if it's quite sufficiently finished, but I think it's reached the point where it needs to be let loose. The subject is:
First: Because we have been forgiven. This is the obvious one, based on Jesus' parable of the unmerciful servant.
Second: For our own health and salvation. Selfish! According to a 2004 article by Jordana Lewis and Jerry Adler of Newsweek, research on being unforgiving shows that holding a grudge can lead to "increased blood pressure and hormonal changes -- linked to cardiovascular disease, immune suppression and, possibly, impaired neurological function and memory." This also has a parallel in the Matthew: "For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."
Third: Because other people are people. One of my favorite C. S. Lewis quotes (and one that continually reminds me how far I have to go in my journey) deals with this, peripherally.
FORGIVENESS
Prepare yourself, because this one's a monster. Because I love you so much, I've broken it down into topics for easier digestion, thus:
Why do we forgive?
This is a tricksy one. I mean, "because God said so" is a bit obvious. But why did he say so? It's a child's question, but one we don't ask frequently enough. (Certainly, there are things that I have to, in the end, leave at "because God says so," but I think it's valuable for our own growth, understanding, and faith if we try to understand why God requires of us the things that he does.) The answer I've come up with has 3 parts.First: Because we have been forgiven. This is the obvious one, based on Jesus' parable of the unmerciful servant.
Second: For our own health and salvation. Selfish! According to a 2004 article by Jordana Lewis and Jerry Adler of Newsweek, research on being unforgiving shows that holding a grudge can lead to "increased blood pressure and hormonal changes -- linked to cardiovascular disease, immune suppression and, possibly, impaired neurological function and memory." This also has a parallel in the Matthew: "For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."
Third: Because other people are people. One of my favorite C. S. Lewis quotes (and one that continually reminds me how far I have to go in my journey) deals with this, peripherally.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
In Which I Completely Freak Out, But It's Really All Okay...Mostly
I had to switch psychiatrists when I changed insurance (which I had to do because my company cut health insurance, and claimed it was Obamacare's fault, even though we all know that's bull*).
My previous one was very gentle with medications. She put me on the lowest effective dose of my medication, and even though I still had a few highs and lows - some days I'd wake up, start 5 projects, not finish any, take a nap, and then be normal; some days I'd be cycling negative thoughts all day, then take a nap and be normal - I was able to function and was doing ok. I've said it before: medication changed my life. It's good for me.
I chose my new psychiatrist based on how I only had a month left of pills and she was the only one in the whole Aurora system who would see me without a referral from an Aurora psychologist, despite how I've been on these pills for 3 freaking years and only 3 total doctors' visits are covered by my insurance so I don't have time or money for your shit, Aurora! (My last psychiatrist saw me every 6 months or less, so I didn't think the "3 dr visits/yr" thing would be too too terrible - 1 physical, 2 psych, done. Sure, there are emergencies to cover, but I'm poor, and I had to weigh the monthly cost vs the possible cost of an extra dr visit or two, and it came down to: sometimes we run out of food between paychecks, so bigger monthly cost is just not going to work for us.) This new psychiatrist is not averse to medication, and doesn't seem to care how many of them she prescribes. The first thing she said to me after looking at my papers was, "Did your previous doctor ever tell you why she didn't raise your prescription? This isn't a therapeutic dose. This isn't safe. Those little highs and lows can build up and trigger a larger episode." Cue freakout #1.
My previous one was very gentle with medications. She put me on the lowest effective dose of my medication, and even though I still had a few highs and lows - some days I'd wake up, start 5 projects, not finish any, take a nap, and then be normal; some days I'd be cycling negative thoughts all day, then take a nap and be normal - I was able to function and was doing ok. I've said it before: medication changed my life. It's good for me.
I chose my new psychiatrist based on how I only had a month left of pills and she was the only one in the whole Aurora system who would see me without a referral from an Aurora psychologist, despite how I've been on these pills for 3 freaking years and only 3 total doctors' visits are covered by my insurance so I don't have time or money for your shit, Aurora! (My last psychiatrist saw me every 6 months or less, so I didn't think the "3 dr visits/yr" thing would be too too terrible - 1 physical, 2 psych, done. Sure, there are emergencies to cover, but I'm poor, and I had to weigh the monthly cost vs the possible cost of an extra dr visit or two, and it came down to: sometimes we run out of food between paychecks, so bigger monthly cost is just not going to work for us.) This new psychiatrist is not averse to medication, and doesn't seem to care how many of them she prescribes. The first thing she said to me after looking at my papers was, "Did your previous doctor ever tell you why she didn't raise your prescription? This isn't a therapeutic dose. This isn't safe. Those little highs and lows can build up and trigger a larger episode." Cue freakout #1.
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