the post in which i admire many women, becca admires few

It's probably time for this blog to get out of my crazy head for a moment, especially since I get to spill it all out to my doctor in a couple of days anyway. So here, enjoy some lists Becca and I put together including some of our favorite women OF ALL TIME and why we love them. It starts with my faves, moves onto Becca's faves, and concludes with our joint faves. I typed for Becca while she spoke her reasoning to me, so according to her that's why she sounds like a five-year-old.

Katie's List 

Zooey Deschanel 

 










I didn't notice her much until she started She & Him with M. Ward. I was talking to an old high school friend about their single, "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" and after watching the video, I fell in love with her personality. She's very free and spunky and adorable. She chooses excellent roles in films (especially (500) Days of Summer).

Daria

I watched Daria when I it aired on MTV, so I was really young, which is really strange. I don't know that I could really relate to her back then, but now I simply love her dry sarcasm and general whatever attitude. She doesn't take things too seriously, but when she does care about something she doesn't hide it and makes a point of doing something about it.

Jenny Lewis

Her band Rilo Kiley opened for Coldplay when I went to see them early on in high school, and I LOVED her music. That was back in the day that she was doing fun indie pop music, which is probably my favorite genre of music. Her lyrics can be kind of strange, but by nature of indie lyrics they're honest. And I can respect that about her.

Meg from Hercules

This probably doesn't come as much of a surprise to those who know me. She's the only Disney "princess" who isn't some sort of perfect female archetype that appeals to our ideals in women. Meg is raw and real with her angst and she, too, has a wonderful dry sarcasm. Apparently that quality will put anyone on my list. Excellent.

Becca

This explains most of it.
I also say "likewise" to most of her reasons for putting me on this list. I love her sense of humor, and I love that she can always understand and appreciate mine, even when it is simply psychotic. She's my best friend. Ever. She's my Gayle. ;)

Sylvia Plath

Yes, another sick twisted woman on my list. Would you really expect anything else? I loved Sylvia Plath in high school when I read The Bell Jar twice. And I don't usually read books twice... or once. I also have her collection of poems, Ariel, and I am mostly intrigued by the way she views life through the fog of her depression. I know that sounds creepy, but it's true. It fascinates me. This is my favorite poem of hers.

Bones 

Yes, as in Temperance Brennan from the television show. I like her Vulcan qualities and how unknowingly hilarious she is all the time. And yes, there are both Deschanel ladies on my list.


Becca's List

 Katie

Isn't it obvious?!?!?! She is the only one who completely understands my sense of humor, which is very important. There are so many times that I'll think something is hilarious but I can't share it with anyone because they'll think I'm stupid. But I know Katie will appreciate it (like QWOP). There are several other things I like about Katie. It's hard to think of them all right now. She doesn't judge me like all my other family members would, so I tell her more than I tell anyone else. She's my Oprah.

Anne Hathaway (minus all of her naked things)

When she's not naked, she is a classy individual. She is articulate and funny.

Anne of Green Gables

She's like the friend I wanted but I never had because she makes everything fun... cuz I don't know how to make things fun. Also, she loves to read and that's cool.

Belle

Another reader!!!!!!! I like that she's thoughtful (I love thoughtful people), and she is loyal, too.


 SHARED LIST

Ayn Rand

Becca's reasoning:
I like her because she knows how to think reasonably and put it all into an entertaining novel form. Not many people can do that. I like the whole worldview she has, but she needs to add God. Otherwise, it's really good.
Katie's reasoning:
I agree with Becca's reasoning entirely. I wrote a 10-page research paper on Ayn Rand's philosophy, Objectivism, in my 10th grade English class. I was fresh off reading both The Fountainhead in 9th grade and Atlas Shrugged in 10th grade. She reveals how ridiculous a lot of our conventions are, but yeah, like Becca said, she does miss the whole actual reason for man.

Deb

Becca's reasoning: 
She was the first best friend I ever had! I would always copy all the stuff that she did when we went through school because I thought, "That's such a good idea!" And I'd always do it. I like that she is so different from everyone else, and she's proud of it. I like that she likes me, because if Deborah likes you it's glowing praise.
Katie's reasoning:
She wasn't the first best friend I ever had! In fact, she despised me as a child, but I also looked up to her and copied what she did a lot because she was sodangcool. I do like her confidence and her competence in doing all of what she pursues. She also made the most adorable baby ever. Congrats.

Mom
Becca's reasoning: 
She carried me in her womb and gave life to me. She likes to make my life easier for me, WHICH IS AWESOME. I like that she treats me like an adult (most of the time) and can actually joke around and have a real relationship with me now instead of being disciplinarian mom. She was a really good mom during the time period when she needed to worry about raising us correctly, but I like now that we've been raised and we can just talk like regular people.

Katie's reasoning:
I also love that I can joke around with her these days and see just how weird she is and probably always has been. I like it when I recognize funny quirks I got from her. Though her concern for my life can become extremely overwhelming, I still do appreciate how much she loves me and wants the absolute best for me all the time.

Pictured above are Grandma Phyllis on the left and Mom on the right during a friendly game of croquet (that Mom beasted).

Grandma Phyllis
Becca's reasoning: 
I admire her relationship with God. I feel like I'll never have that, but I'd like to. I like that she doesn't choose favorites among her grandchildren. She makes super good food. Food is really important to me, so this is a big deal.

Katie's reasoning: 
She's wicked awesome. My sisters and I like to say she reminds us of Julie Andrews. They do have certain similarities in mannerisms as well as personality and interactions with people. So if you love Julie Andrews, you would love grandma. But even if you don't, you'd probably still love grandma. She's precious.

Matters of Awesomeness and Not Awesomeness

Once upon a time I got tested by my doctor to see whether I am actually clinically depressed. This was a couple of years ago, I think. She told me I'm not depressed, but yes, I'm on the slightly depressed end of the scale. I figure that sort of sucks, but hey, it's manageable. I know that it's simply not likely that I will ever be the happy-go-lucky type and it maybe won't ever be a consistent practice of mine to notice all of the half-full glasses around me. My weaknesses and my doubts are wonderful things that force me back into communion with God.

One of the girls I tutor who typically struggles with math was on fire this morning, and we breezed through four lessons. It was awesome.

This evening I met with a friend who desperately needed help with Statistics, and I was unable to help her given the really tight time constraint and urgency of the situation. I didn't feel like a failure for this, but I did have to watch her feel like a failure. That was hard. It wasn't all that awesome.

There are highs and there are lows. I get them. I feel them. I'm not depressed--just sometimes. That's normal. I think the fact that life can't always be peachy is an okay thing to be sad or upset about. I still want to get out of bed each morning, and I still want to figure out how to glorify God with the time He's given me on Earth.

My mom still thinks I might have mental issues, so I have another appointment on Monday to see if I'm crazy. Becca doesn't think I am, and I don't really think I am either. Still, it'll be nice to talk to someone about it directly--my sanity, that is. Plus, I get to talk about God to my doctor because He does play a big part in my psyche. So that's awesome.

I Will Follow You Into the Dark

Mom says I need to find someone to talk to who can understand the way I think.
Well yes, that'd be ideal.
Thus far my challenge in finding those people is that they are generally not Christians.

And I think there's something to learn and actually pursue there.

I know that Christian fellowship is important. That was one of those harsh lessons I learned during freshman year when I had my "I can handle my own spirituality without you hypocritical Christians" phase. It was when I stared in the face of my own hypocrisy and flaws that I was able to lay down my pride and walk through the front doors of the BCM. (Un)fortunately, I'm still not over my frustration with Christians/Christianity, and I include myself in that frustration. I'm frustrated with myself, us, them, and most generally I am frustrated with sin.

And that's good!

Also, that's how I feel more comfortable and like-minded talking to non-Christians about the matter. Who is more frustrated with Christians than non-Christians, eh? Who hates the exclusivity, the holier-than-thou attitudes, the formulas, the spiritual hierarchy, etc. more than those people?

What really is unfortunate is the fact that I start to define God by these terms. I start viewing God as an exclusive God, trapped within a book cover and performing according to the whims of culture comfort. I get so wrapped up in my frustrations that I fail to seek out the God who is there--the real, unchanging, unfathomable, loving, gracious, merciful Being above everything. I realized I had lost my desire for God, so I went up to my dad's office and started looking around.

"What are you looking for?" -Dad
"Piper's Desiring God." -Me
*Finds book.*
*Starts reading book and gets really excited about God again.*

Through all of this (and I think this is what I've been trying to get at for a long time), I think it's probably a passion of mine to acknowledge humanity at its ugliest in such a way that I can glorify God in His perfection without alienating those of unbelief. I want to understand them and be with them, too. Christian bubbles are uncomfortable. I'd rather fight down the demons in my path than take the rosy path around the muck. I want to be in both places at once--within the depths of woe but praising a victorious God all-the-while.

a break might be nice.

Sara, a co-worker and friend of both Claire and me, came over for our apartment's "French" dinner a couple of nights ago. The quotes are to signify how very Italian our meal was at the core--what with the pizza and bread and such. The French spin came in with the French bread, brie, and goat cheese. Oh, and the French wine. But anyway, the most significant part of the meal for me was how great Sara's company was. She carried conversation--shared about herself and inquired about the strangers sitting across from her at the table. I like the way she talks and the topics she chooses to discuss. Earlier today I told Claire what a "good person" I perceive Sara to be. Sara claims to be a Christian but also confesses she is not a "good one." I imagine she's just as confused about what a "good" Christian should look like as I am.

That's when I basked in a bite of solidarity. And when I discovered how much I am slipping.

Discovered may be the wrong word. I've noticed. I'm not that dense after the infamous hell that was last fall. Somehow it doesn't work to say that Jesus fixes these things. That's where I am right now. I'm in that place where I can open my Bible to read it, but I may as well be one of my religion professors searching for another academic gem that will add to some long-standing thesis I've been developing. They're just curious and they go into Scripture for a very specific thing they want.

I hate that, and I hate it when I do that. I hate the idea of *using* the Bible to fix my quick tiffs and woes. It can be so difficult for me to reach the deepest depths of despair that I have ever experienced (as shallow as they actually are) and fully yearn for Jesus to be the Savior out of that. I read about how God's grace is sufficient. I believe that. But in that moment--cynicism capsizing reason--it don't work. I don't have that faith. I see it in my roommates and in several other friends, and I hear them discuss it right in my presence. All I can do is sit there like a doofus and stare off into space wondering what the first step is in the right direction besides a desperate, faithless prayer. And then I type about it and toss it out there for vultures and Samaritans alike to take what they want out of this circumstance I'm in. I'd like to know what God is doing here, but I don't.

More Negative Drivel

My eyes have been opened recently to the magnitude of my negativity. I could sit here and blame it on being raised listening to to my mom's family sit around and talk negatively about this person/place/thing or that person/place/thing. That probably has had its influence in some way. I could blame a little on nurture and a little on nature. Blame is a nice finger-pointing position up until the point that I see it doesn't change the reality of my current situation and the reality of perceptions of me that don't rely so heavily on my sources of blame. It may not be my fault in some ways that I am who I am and that may seem unfair, but I think C.S. Lewis would use that as another example of how Satan gets a foothold.

Lately I've been getting really sick of myself and I've especially been getting sick of being sick of stuff. I'm sick of disliking churches. I'm sick of disliking Christianity. I'm sick of my fixations on people/things. I'm sick of my lack of ambition. I'm sick of believing I deserve better. I'm sick of my doubt. I'm sick of being prone to doubt. I'm sick of the negativity here in saying that I'm sick of everything.

I may even be sick of honesty. Sometimes I think if I were less jaded and more prone to trusting, believing, having faith and all that then I would probably be much more useful in this life, and I would probably have more joy. I wonder if there actually is any intended purpose in me being who I am right now. Sometimes I want to be better but most of the time I don't want that enough to actually work toward that end.

My mom told me once that I would probably have so much joy being a missionary. I have reservations about that. I know how fickle I can be. Camp was one of the most joyous experiences of my life, but I rarely spent alone time with God--even as much as that was encouraged by all of my superiors and my peers alike. I still don't spend all that much alone time with God, and when I do it's usually full of a lot shame on my end at how much my thoughts and actions show that my allegiance doesn't appear to be where I want to say it is. I feel like I'm spiritually a 5-year-old all the time. My mom tells me to say sorry to that little girl whose feelings I hurt and I mutter a half-hearted, "Sorry." I'm half-hearted in my relationship with God so usually I sit waiting for an alarm to awaken my latent soul.



"Roll Away Your Stone" -Mumford & Sons

Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine
Together we can see what we will find
Don’t leave me alone at this time,
For I'm afraid of what I will discover inside

Cause you told me that I would find a hole,
Within the fragile substance of my soul
And I have filled this void with things unreal,
And all the while my character it steals

Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see

It seems that all my bridges have been burned,
But you say that’s exactly how this grace thing works
It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart,
But the welcome I receive with the restart

Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I've seen

Stars hide your fires,
These here are my desires
And I won't give them up to you this time around
And so, I’ll be found with my stake stuck in this ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul

But you, you’ve gone too far this time
You have neither reason nor rhyme
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine

Something Pretty

Painting again! Currently I'm working on a painting for one who must not be named (for the just in case circumstance that this person is reading these words right now), and I got very excited at the idea of making a playlist for the painting. Then I started thinking how cool it would be to not only have the playlist for my listening pleasure and inspiration while painting but to also burn it to a disc and make it an accompanying gift with the painting. I'll probably start doing this, but for this particular painting, I found myself pulled solely to Enya (you're welcome or sorry to you-who-must-not-be-named (timely HP reference))--perhaps by the nature of the painting. But I think mostly it was me yearning for something pretty.

Now, there is a song called "Something Pretty" by Patrick Park. It's not really a great song, but I got hooked on it at some point this summer when I borrowed one of those OC season mixes from the library and got the song then. I walked to my first class this semester listening to this song on repeat, not recognizing the lyrics' foreshadowing for the culmination of my learning experiences this semester. Most of the song is pretty depressing... all about loneliness and ugliness and stuff, but mostly the singer begs for [you] to "show me something pretty." I didn't know then that I would be begging the same thing now at the end of the semester. I especially didn't know I'd be begging it of myself.

I'd probably have to write a lot and somehow acquire a lot of patience I don't have in order to fully unfold what I'm trying to get at, so that's not likely to happen. As I said last year, I become extra attuned to blessings and moments of nostalgia before breaks. Just a few minutes ago, I got a text from my freshman year roommate Adrienne that reads, "Listening to the song 'The Milkmaid," reminds me of you and good old freshman year.'" Me too, Adrienne, me too. In some ways I actually look back on who I was freshman year as a good representation of who "Something Pretty" is talking about. No, I don't think I was really just a "dumb punk kid," but I do think I've grown a lot since then. I've grown enough to see how much more I still need to grow. It's gotten to the point that I stood in church yesterday and before service really started, I prayed that God would show me something pretty. I prayed for God to show me those things I don't even know to ask for: love I can't understand, a faith that breaks my rational barriers, timely reading of Scripture that brings me to my knees in life-changing convictions. I begged to be something more than a "dumb punk kid." I want to be more than myself, because who I am is not a great place to settle. I don't want another year to go by and only wind up saying, "here I am, where I've been."

I think I've written a lot about clinging to who I am. At least, I've thought about it a lot. At freshman group, I got everyone to write down a long term goal they have for their lives. Mine was malleability to become who God has purposed me to be. I guess God will have his way with me no matter what, but I don't want to always have to look back over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of a passing blessed moment. I want to not only be conscious of the ways I'm changing but to also make great strides in changing myself in the ways I know I need to change. I'd like to stop complaining about the things that are wrong with me and actually open myself up to changing those things. This might require me to be who I'm not. This might test all the limits I've put on honesty and genuineness, my most prized possessions. But I'm pretty sure Jesus spit a big wad of "no" on my possessions long ago when he told me to throw all that away and follow Him. I guess I do know ugliness, but I'm begging God to show me something pretty, which is something He always promised He would do.

A Feast of Fools

My mom thanked me yesterday for introducing her to Pandora this summer. It has apparently revolutionized her work hours, so I told her I'll hook her up with some AOL Radio if she wants. She promptly declined, stating that she doesn't intend to overstimulate herself.

Keep it simple, stupid. Or is it just simple stupid? Could be either one here.

I do understand her aversion to the idea. I just picked up my laptop with the intention of writing this blog post and, as usual, got lost in the forest of facebook, twitter, and random searches and blogs along the way before my little puppy ears perked up at the high pitch of the "To the Life!" whistle. It's not that I am required to write this post, but I've been inspired, which hasn't been a common occurrence in my world this semester. Inspiration. Pah.

The inspiration here comes from reading a book that finally articulates these thoughts that have been slowly forming in my mind over the course of this semester, especially over the course of this past month as I've even been struggling to drag myself to church every Sunday. Sounds terrible, don't it? The truth is dirty sometimes, but fortunately that grime only stains the crevices of this earth.

Anyway, it all started when Sadie brought home one of those "Read with Discernment" warnings from Lifeway that she was handed upon her purchase of Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz. I didn't know about these things, but they've apparently been warning readers against reading Don Miller's book as though it is the very Word of God. Good call, Lifeway. I got pretty annoyed that they decided to single out Don Miller when we Christians should probably be discerning everything we read, including such greats as John Piper and RC Sproul. Don Miller never claimed to be a theologian as far as I know. The dude's just got a story to tell, but I don't think he's under any sort of illusion that he is bringing The Message to the world by essentially writing his own biography and testimony to what God has done in his life.

So I made it my mission to head over to Lifeway, purchase a book by Don Miller, and refuse a copy of the discernment guide, which would afford me the opportunity to suggest maybe not singling out one non-canonical author but perhaps throwing a blanket over all of them (given all of this warning business is really that necessary).

But since I already own a copy of Blue Like Jazz, I grabbed A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. However, I had already decided at this point that I wouldn't take up the issue with these nice-looking folks since it really is a corporate matter, and for all I know the manager of this particular Lifeway may feel the same way I do about the policy. I've convinced myself at this point that he/she does--just a small comfort to appease myself.

The sweet old lady at the register didn't even hand me one of the discernment guides anyway, but she did look at me a bit disparagingly when I didn't want to purchase a Jesus bag for $1. "Sorry, I don't really do bags," doesn't seem to be a good enough reason to withhold an extra dollar. Good thing that store smells like [Son]shine and Christmas. Redemption.

Redemption continued when I reached the end of chapter twenty-nine of this book not too long ago and decided I found *it*. Special asterisks for a special it, yes. I guess I'll start explaining *it* by throwing down some of the words that struck me:

"We all get worked into a frenzy over things that will not happen until Jesus returns. The truth is, we can make things a little better or a little worse, but utopia doesn't hang in the balance of our vote or of what products we buy."

"But I've also let go of the idea things will ever be made perfect, at least while I am walking around on this planet. I've let go of the idea that this life has a climax... When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you'd be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you'd be surprised how much you like spending time with God."

I like that there are several Christian authors these days lamenting how cheap we've made God. If I am honest with myself, my primary frustration is most likely rooted in how cheap I've made God for myself. How easily I get trapped in this idea that God needs to fix things now, but he's not allowed to mess with this or that in the process. I cling to this idea that my personality is extremely important because without it, I have no identity. Please God, don't take away my sarcasm. That's my staple! That's my charm! It's kind of like I'm a pocketknife that won't let you use any of my features except for the knife because that's my best feature.

And so I noted that Don Miller is basically relaying the deeper message of Ecclesiastes. Everything will suck now if we actually do put all our expectations and desires in what we've got going on here. Miller furthered his point by saying Paul and the disciples would have been hard-pressed to promise a blissful life on earth with the amount of turmoil they went through. There was never any promise that everything will work out for our good here, but we do have that promise for when we get there. Jesus said, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Jesus always had his focus on the kingdom of heaven, and that is pretty significant. Why do we want to cheapen Him and distort His love with our own self-righteous political agenda or put a Jesus band-aid over every flesh wound that we eventually wind up ripping off once it becomes unnecessary?

It's not that Jesus isn't relevant to the here and now. That's clear by the fact that he became a man. But Jesus was resurrected from the dead and God put eternity on man's heart because that's where our treasure lies.

Don Miller concludes chapter twenty-nine: "Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won't be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast."