The Games We Play

Lately, I have been thinking about the misery that is dating (based on the experience of friends, seeing as I have almost no experience). The dating game has to be one of the most ridiculous things ever invented. And I have to wonder, has it always been, or is it a creation of more recent years? I mean, seriously! The rules don't even make sense. And who made them up anyway?! "Don't be too available." "Don't call back for 3 days." "Wait to respond to texts and emails so it looks like your busy and actually have a life." These are some of the rules I know about. I'm sure there are a ton of other rules I am completely oblivious to. What I don't understand is why it continues. Everyone complains about it. Guys complain that they don't understand the games girls play and girls say the same about guys. No one really seems to enjoy it - or maybe that is just part of the game too... Are we supposed to pretend we don't like the game or don't follow the rules, while secretly loving all the drama it causes? Well, I don't. I don't like the drama, suspense, etc. Thus, I refuse to play the game. If I hear the phone ring, I pick it up (unless it is a telemarketer). If I want to talk to you, I will call (regardless of how much time has passed). And when I see a text come in, I try to respond immediately (and that goes for all my friends - not just guys). Maybe that means I will spend the remainder of my nights home alone with my crossword puzzles while my roommate goes out and meets new guys. And maybe that's ok. Afterall, what little dating experience I do have is filled with far more regrets than happy memories. And there is always the possibility that there is a man out there who hates the game as much as I do. So, here's to a solitary, drama-free life. ;-P

I found where I belong...

and it is in Hawaii...

The North Shore, near Haliewa

Looking across the bay at our hotel in Waikiki

The look-out point near the lighthouse

Sunset from our balcony.

Random Thoughts of the Unemployed

I have to write an essay on why I want to be an Army Officer. Trying to come up with that has gotten me thinking about why I've wanted to do all the things I've done... My thoughts took a philosophical bent and carried me back many years.

I have to admit, I've lived a charmed life. My childhood was a happy one, and I was given more opportunities than anyone else I know. I studied the things that interested me, took lessons or classes in some of the most random things (e.g. cake decorating and french braiding). Things had a way of naturally working out for me. At 6 years old, I remember wondering why, when in the grand scheme of things, the majority of people inhabit places much less advantaged, I was not only born in the greatest country in the world, but also in the greatest state within that country (even at 6, I was sure that NY was the center of the universe). I was also taught at an early age that "to whom much is given, much is required." I guess it is ever since then that I have been looking for a way to give back. I was sure that my life was meant to be extraordinary - normal just never sat well with me. I thought deploying to a war zone would cure me of this need to do something great. Instead, I found a job that was more than a job. It was home. I was actually doing something meaningful. And I loved it. For the first time in my life, I had this sense of "this is where I am supposed to be and I am doing what I was called to do." It was an incredible feeling, but it didn't last long. When my four month deployment came to an end, I returned to the real world - a world I didn't belong in. It was a place where people were preoccupied with pleasure and "things" - where girls were obsessed with achieving the perfect bikini body and grown men were waiting on lines for 24+ hours just be one of the first to buy the new iphone with all the game features. The banality of it all was driving me insane. I just kept thinking of all the men and women I had left behind in Iraq. They had so little and gave so much. I had to get back there! So, the journey began... I tried to deploy as an analyst, I tried to become an agent; I even tried to join the Marine Corps! But after completing 9 weeks of the 10 week program, I got dropped. Two years after my initial deployment I am still looking for a way to return, but I am beginning to wonder if I've lost sight of the goal. Maybe I am not supposed to go back to Iraq. Maybe all of that was preparing me for something else. I really don't know. In the meantime, I will continue to seek God's will for my life because I know He has a plan for me. This waiting period is a test of faith that is teaching me patience. So, I wait on His perfect timing. I still expect the extraordinary, but I haven't a clue as to what shape that is going to take. It may be as an Army Officer, but then again, it may not. I'll let you know when I find out. =)

Why

As far back as I can remember, I have always had an insatiable curiosity. I wanted to know everything about everything... science, history, philosophy, theology, teleology... my poor Mom! As I've grown older, that really hasn't changed, but occasionally my questions take a dark turn...

As I look up, the tears roll down

I feel the pain and wonder why

I sit in silence and alone

The question comes: why, God? Why?

Others get all I want

Enviously I wonder why

I may act nonchalant

But I'm still asking why

Deeply troubled in mind and soul

With a heavy heart and audible sigh

I ask the question above them all:

Why must I always ask why?!

Beauty in Imperfection

While cleaning my bedroom (quite the event), I came across a shell that I had picked up along the shore in Vieques last spring. I left most of the shells we collected with her in a basket that she put out on the back porch at home, but this one was unwanted... I remember that day very clearly. We were walking along the north shore of the island when I saw it lying there on the beach among the many other shells - it was a conch, or had been. What was left of it was only the center stem of the shell. The outer shell was completely gone and the edges had been smoothed away by the constant friction of the waves and sand. I picked it up and called over to where my Mom and sister were standing, "look, Mommy, isn't it pretty?!" (yes, I still call her Mommy and will continue to do so as long as I live). To my dismay she shook here head disapprovingly and said, "it's broken." I was disappointed that she didn't see the beauty in it. I still thought it was pretty and so I stuck it in my pocket and continued on down the beach. Thinking back on that day, I find it ironic that no one else liked my broken shell, considering what it was we were really out there looking for. My family has a thing for "ancient glass" and since the north shore of Vieques is known for having a veritable trove of ancient glass, we set out on a mission to retrieve some. Of course, all it is is broken beer bottles that have spent enough time in the elements to smooth out their sharp edges and give their once clear, glossy veneer, a frosted and worn appearance.

As I thought about it, I realized the same is true in life. We strive endlessly for an unattainable goal of perfection and miss the beauty of what God is doing with our lives through the trials that come our way, the lessons learned through mistakes we've made, and the refining process that often accompanies our pain. Beyond all of that, it is our imperfection that points us back to the One who is perfect. And, while we strive for the holiness He requires, He can use even our weakness and imperfection for His glory. Now that is beautiful!

Life-block

The blogging silence has been a lot longer than I had originally intended. Most of you already know that OCS adventure did not end as expected... I keep thinking about a card that a friend sent me right before I left... it had a picture of a salmon that had fought its way to the top, where a large, brown bear was awaiting its arrival... the subtitle was: "the journey of a thousand miles sometimes ends very, very badly." That pretty much sums up my 9 week (as opposed to 10 week) OCS experience.

I have now been back for a month and a half, still don't have a job, and haven't a clue what I am supposed to be doing. I feel like I have military in my blood and can't seem to give up the idea... so after spending the first month at the beach, working on my fabulous tan and catching up on my down-with-the-terrorists fiction reading, I find myself checking out Coast Guard and Army websites, and scrolling through civilian positions open in Iraq and Afghanistan. I have sent my resume out all over the place, but I am feeling directionless. And not just as far as work goes... in just about every way. I walk into my room and haven't a clue where to begin straightening it up. I sit down to play my guitar, and the chords just don't come. I open up my journal and stare at the blank page in front of me. I think I have hit a life block. I am not unhappy or upset, just unsure and a little lost. So, if you have read this far and still haven't closed the page out of total boredom (as I probably would have), please say a prayer for me - pray that I will figure out where to go next, and in the meantime, to patiently trust God with my future.