This is Home : Part 1

I left the office today a little after 5:30 p.m. Golden sunlight lit up the autumn colors dotting Madison, flushing vibrance into leaves and contrasting the shadows cast by buildings, cars parked along the curb, and the people walking from the former to the latter. As I drove back to the Country Inn & Suites where I'd been staying on and off for the past month, the Switchfoot song "This is Home" came on over 102.5. I'd only heard the song 387 time before, but for whatever reason, the lyrics resonated with me today, and shucks-a-doozey it reminded me that I'm wayyy overdue for a blog update.

{Refresher for your Pleasure}

All through college, the one question all new people asked was, "So where are you from?" Ugh. I hated that question. You see, as I'm sure most of you are aware, I don't have a pretty answer for that. My first handful of years were spent as an army brat; when I was nine my mom packed up my sis and me and whisked us off to Kansas, leaving my dad in Wisconsin. From then on I spent the school year at mom's, and the summers and larger holidays at dad's. My work and summer beach memories were ingrained in WI; my formative school days and self-stretching was founded in KS; how could I exclusively claim one as 'home,' when they, in some sense to me, both were? ... But how do you explain all that to a politely curious stranger without going into an autobiographical monologue? Some days I was simply from "The moon."

Recap: For those of you unaware, I graduated from university this past May with my B.A. in English. Come mid June, I began working for a company called Hartung Brothers Inc., which I'd gotten my foot in the door with two years ago as a summer job. HBI contracts with canning companies such as Del Monte, Green Giant, Seneca Foods, etc. to grow raw vegetable and root crops such as peas, green beans, lima beans, sweet corn, cucumbers, peppers, beets, carrots, and seed corn. [I wish she'd demanded a quarter for every person who asked how an English major ended up with an agronomy job. We could have paid off her student loans by now.] Because my employment is seasonal, I expected to work with HBI through early August at best. The idea my brain cooked up was to work until they quit paying me (a.k.a. when harvest was over), figuring it would be a good opportunity to earn some money right away after graduation so I'd be okay when student loans kicked in come November, and in the meantime hunt for a job in my field of study. Welll... I started in peas in central Wisconsin, and ended in peas in Door County, WI. For peas I was the crew van driver (imagine being the only girl driving around a van of 12 men at noon and midnight every day... 2 crews of 12 men each, 6 migrants and 6 WI locals per crew) [Crikes has she got some stories...], and a pre-grade inspector (which meant I was getting up at the crack of dawn to pick and run samples from numerous fields, which determined what fields were ready to be harvested).

When peas wrapped up in early August (as anticipated), I was thrilled to learn my supervisors were pleased with my work ethic, and after a brief interview with my supervisors' boss, I was asked to stay on for snap beans as a pre-grade and load grade inspector (load grades determined the quality of the beans actually being harvested/shipped to the canning companies, and locked in what the grower would be paid). In addition to having more hours, I was given a company vehicle (a beautiful white 2010 chevy silverado pickup) [Which she affectionately named Kelvin], a company gas card (wheee! no more paying for gas!!), and a company cell phone (and this is all in addition to the fact that HBI was already covering my housing since I started with them). [Needless to say, she was feeling very spoiled. In a good way.] I worked with snap beans in Door County, WI, and on days that were slower for snap beans, I also helped my previous supervisors from peas with the lima bean pre-grading, which was going on at the same time.

Nearing the end of DC snap beans, word on the street was that the people working with seed corn in central WI and in the Arena, WI, area were planning on stealing me. Sure enough, once the beans had only a couple fields left to harvest, I was told to drive down to central WI again and work with the seed corn people--without really being told anything about what I'd be doing or how long I'd be gone for. I ended up filling out Bill of Lading reports in the field, and coordinated between the dump-cart drivers, semi truck drivers, and dispatch, making sure the correct trucks left in the correct order with the correct trailer numbers and amount of seed corn for the processing plant. It was by far the easiest thing I'd had to do so far for HBI, since I was basically sitting in an air conditioned vehicle in a corn field all day [being hit on by truck drivers], as opposed to trekking through pea or bean fields at 5 a.m. pulling samples.

When seed corn started slowing down the last week of September, I figured I was finally done (and would have to find a more permanent job). September 24th & 25th I had my first weekend off since I'd started working back in June. The friday before was my last day in seed corn, and on monday I was supposed to have a meeting with the head of HR and my peas/beans boss in the corporate office in Madison. At the meeting, the HR head surprised me by asking if I'd like to accompany him to university career fairs over the next month. The two of us would represent the company while searching out intern candidates for next summer. We ended up going to universities in Wisconsin, Illinois, and Iowa. In addition to that, my peas/beans boss had some office/computer projects he was hoping I could tackle for him, so between career fairs and said projects, I've been either on the road or working out of the corporate office in Madison this past month. I've been told by both the HR head and my boss that they would like me back next year starting in early spring, which is a good feeling, because I don't have to worry about floundering for a job if something else doesn't come up this winter. And I've highly enjoyed spending these past few weeks getting to know the people in the office, and was thrilled to have other women to talk to after X solid months of working with only males. It's funny how an 8 to 5 job feels so easy after working 8 to 18 hour days in the field. Done at 5? So early? Crazy!

And that brings us full circle.

So what makes today's drive from the office to the hotel significant? Why did the nearly-abused and overplayed Switchfoot song strike a chord today? Well... because tomorrow is my last day with HBI for the season. After tomorrow... I'm going home.

I've been living out of a suit case [lies! duffle bag.] since June, and my company truck has become a wardrobe on wheels. [And yes, I've been with Snowl this entire time. I can vouch for this.] I've met a ton of wonderful people in each division I've worked in, and I know some of them will stick with me even when I'm gone. [What would we do without facebook and email?] I was even blessed enough this past month+ to get to know an amazing young man who has officially raised the bar in my dating standards... he reminded me that there are good, hard working men in the world who know how to treat women like the precious souls they are; I hope our paths cross many, many more times.

While working for Hartung, whenever I was on the road 'away from home,' I received a per diem to cover basic food expenses. But their version of 'home' qualified as anywhere with family; so staying with my dad, with a cousin in Madison, at an Aunt's campsite, at a friend's in the area... these all qualified as 'home.'

Now it's time to go 'home': back to Door County, where my vehicle has been sitting since beans; back to Sturgeon Bay, where my dad and the kiddos are waiting for a send-off; up to the U.P. in Michigan, to see my grandparents I wasn't able to visit with all summer because of crazy work schedules; back to Springfield (swinging through a couple other MO towns to see dear friends on the way!) to revisit all my wonderful peeps still holding down the fort; and finally back to Kansas, to see my cat. [Ha.] ...and my mom, sis, and family there too, of course. <3 Because this (as in, all of the above, everywhere that holds someone I love), this is home.

(Un)conditional?

[rant=blogpost: What is conditional friendship?]

When something of the same theme pops up in my life on multiple occasions in a short time frame, I try to take notice. Lately, something of the same theme has popped up in my life on multiple occasions, so this is me taking notice.

Unconditional - (adjective) - not limited by conditions; absolute; without conditions or limitations; total.

On three separate occasions involving three separate people, the question of 'how far is too far?' arose in the context of maintaining a friendship. How far will you let someone push you until you've been pushed over the edge? How many arguments does it take for the bad to outweigh the good? How much emotional turmoil must the pendulum mix before you simply decide to cut your losses, and choose to remove a problem-person from your life?

What makes a friendship worth fighting for?

... what makes a friendship not worth fighting for?

Honestly, before last weekend, I'd never really given this issue much thought. My parents are divorced. They found that line where they decided things were no longer worth fighting for... or perhaps they simply made that line, drew it in the dirt, played hop scotch, and declared they crossed it, because "finding" that line can be so much simpler than trying to work things out.

Where do we draw the line?

... should we draw the line?

... does the line need to be drawn, or does it pre-exist?

I mentioned three people and three occasions. We'll dub Occasion 1 as "Alice and Conan," Occasion 2 as "Bob and Cindy," and Occasion 3 as "Ned and Minnie." I'll give you the breakdown, and you tell me where the line is.

Occasion 1: Alice and Conan

Alice and Conan met through a school field trip to candy land and quickly hit off a witty-sweet friendship. They both spoke to friends about the romantic possibilities with the other, and in a short time, most of their friends thought they would date. However, Conan was forced away from Alice to toil through the sweaty labors of the dust fields for a period, and although both still speculated about the possibilities with each other, nothing conclusive was decided. In Conan's absence Alice met Peter, who seemed so darn perfect, and she simply could not let him slip through her fingers. Conan, away in the dust fields, heard of Alice's new love, and lost hope... until Peter proved imperfect, and Alice began confiding in Conan her Peter-problems. This renewed emotional intimacy gave Conan hope, but he told the heart-shattered Alice that he would not pursue her until she was ready for him. He would, however, try to show her the grace and unconditional love he believed she deserved. Alice, in turn, quickly rebounded to Peter.v2.0, since Conan was still so far away... Conan, bewildered at this whirlwind flip, attempted to maintain a friendship, but hope was quickly dying. When v2.0 started showing similar glitches to v1.0 and Alice again turned to Conan for tech support, Conan realized the nature of what he was dealing with, and when he realized the friendship he was attempting to maintain was filled with Alice's romantic drama that shouldn't have existed had she simply waited for him in the first place, he quit. The line was drawn.

Occasion 2: Bob and Cindy

Bob and Cindy were both cadets at Star Command. Bob and Cindy's paths zigzagged in several ways, but they didn't click until an exploratory field trip to Saturn made them realize all the nerdy qualities they had in common. Over the next three months on furlough following the trip, the two spent ample amounts of time together, Bob frequently calling Cindy to come visit his star-ship and discuss strategical fantasy mechanics. Bob even kidnapped Cindy to relieve her stress when her new hover-glider broke down, and the two ended up talking all night until dawn re-laced the sky with light. They laughed together, schemed together, competed, and even cooked together. Early on, Cindy wondered at the possibility of a romantic endeavor with Bob, but after spending more time with him, she quickly realized she would be more likely to cut out his tongue due to chauvinistic remarks than to ever let hers get anywhere near it. Plus, she couldn't help but notice Bob's overall belief that women weren't fit to serve Star Command, and his general disliking for women further discouraged any ulterior motives Cindy may have otherwise fancied. Bob himself stated he was too goals-driven to bother with romance. However, she still delighted in his playful company, and when the time approached to return to Star Command, she looked forward to the adventures they could share. Bob, on the other hand, was on a different page. Toward the end of their furlough, Bob and Cindy had a disagreement about the properties of space-time travel in relation to an individual being's punctuality concepts. This argument occurred in close proximity to a misunderstanding between Bob and Cindy that followed the lines of Bob thinking Cindy was romantically interested in him, and Cindy laughing hysterically and putting an upfront 'no' on the table in regards to it. Thinking the issue resolved, Cindy was a mite surprised when Bob didn't call on her the following week. To her complete surprise, after said arguments, Bob cut off all communication with Cindy for the next month. Even after returning to Star Command, Bob only acknowledged Cindy when cadet coursework required it. Cindy, completely flabbergasted, attempted to alienate and mend the problem, but Bob was done. He ignored her messages and attempts at mending whatever went wrong. Without Cindy knowing why, he'd drawn the line.

Occasion 3: Ned and Minnie

Ned and Minnie never actually met, but they mind-melded on numerous occasions throughout their five year cyber-friendship. Both worked as moderators in a virtual reality world that Minnie created, and through this project the two became good friends. However, Ned frequently found fault with other players or moderators in the virtual world, and he always text-screamed his anger at Minnie. Minnie normally laugh-shrugged off Ned's rants, not taking them personally, until Ned would retaliate with a personal jab. This normally resulted in Minnie trying to apologize for whatever was bothering Ned, and she would try to get him to talk to her about the root of the issue, since normally the problems were flooding in from issues happening outside the virtual reality. Ned, in turn, would be overcome with guilt for his actions or words toward Minnie, and said guilt would morph into a different type of anger, and said process would repeat. These disagreements always blew over with time, and Ned and Minnie always managed to remain friends despite them. A week after celebrating the virtual reality's five year anniversary, Ned and Minnie had another fight. Mutual friends of the two viewed it as like any other time, until Ned sent Minnie a message saying he was done, that he had outgrown the virtual world, and that this was goodbye. Minnie flipped--no way was she letting Ned slip away that easily, not without a fight. A whole day went into trying to make contact with Ned, and finally, in the late evening, Ned consented to talk. Ned wanted to talk, however, not to resolve the little virtual issue that sent him off the wall (which he admitted was his own fault), but because he simply didn't understand something: in their five years of friendship, even though they had never actually met, every time Ned flipped out at Minnie, Minnie always quickly forgave him and tried to fix the problem. She never gave up on him. Even that day, when he admitted she did nothing wrong, she was apologizing to him to try to make things right. "Why?" he asked. "Why are you apologizing to me, when I'm the one who did you wrong, insulted you, insulted your creation, and made you cry?" Minnie sat back a moment, considering. "I didn't know what else to do," she replied. "All I ever do is cause you issues," Ned argued. "Why put up with me? What makes this friendship worth saving? All my life I've had people look down on me, and tell me I'm not worth their time. The people I know in real life don't care about me, so why should you?" Minnie prickled. "I'm still a real person, Ned. Just because we know each other through the internet doesn't mean I'm not real." The conversation progressed from there. Ned confessed to Minnie how he had used the virtual world as a substitute for the real one he didn't find any joy in, and how he relied on the community of the virtual world--Minnie's world--to provide the support and friendship he needed. But he also realized he was allowing his pains from his real world pour into the virtual one, and since the problems were never resolved, only transfered, then his anger at those problems was also transfered to the virtual world, and normally ended up coming out aimed at the virtual world's owner, Minnie. Yet Minnie always forgave him, and tried to fix the relationship, and even encouraged him, and he just didn't understand why, when he considered himself the cause of so much of her unnecessary griefs. Whenever Ned tried to draw the line, Minnie dusted it away and said not a chance. Hence, Ned asked, "What makes a friendship worth fighting for?"

That question is what this blog post is about. What makes a friendship, or any relationship, worth fighting for? When do you draw the line? Do you draw the line? Is the line already there, and you just have to reach it...?

For me, I know that I've screwed up time and time and time and time and time and time again, yet for whatever reason, people still humor me with their company. I've had people hurt me in turn, but, the way I see it, I can either go 'ouch!' and cut them off, or I can ask them what caused them to lash out in the first place. What is it they are struggling with that makes them behave the way they do? Don't get me wrong, I'm far from perfect! My first instinct is usually to strike back. (Snowl: *OW-OW-OW-GRRR* Wheresmybullwhip?Commereyoufartmuffin! *tackles*) When someone hurts us, our pride gets bruised, our defenses go up, and we want our revenge, dang it! [But let's analyze that, shall we? Our our our. When did everything become self-revolving? Hmm... last I checked, relationships were about others... ... So why do our claws come out whenever things don't go how we want them to?]

If there is anything the Salvation story teaches us, it's that everyone hurts... you think it felt good to have those metal spikes driven through his wrists? "Father, Forgive them..." [Remix if it were Snowl: ??? Father, where's the lightning? Where's the thunder? Where's the epic-sized hail?? Forgive them? Love them? What??] ... ... ... why? [Little Voice Inside: What do we have that makes our relationship so worth fighting for? worth dying for? What, God? Why do you put up with us?]

So what was our original question again? Oh, right: Where's the line? [*mumble*70x7 or something*mumblemumble*]

Occasion 3: Ned and Minnie - Ned wonders what it is about Minnie that makes her actions toward him different from everyone else. Minnie shares with him about her God, who, despite all the wrongs and hurts Minnie has caused Him through her bumblings, always forgives her when she asks and recognizes she has done wrong. Because of the Love she has learned from her relationship with her God, and His constant Grace, she tries to show that same love and grace to others as best as His Spirit, working through her, will allow...

I didn't want this to get all preachy, but I keep seeing Christians willingly and knowingly throw away relationships with broken people* who need the grace and love of God that we supposedly represent in this world, and they do it because the broken person is just too much for them to handle, or too messed up, or is too different from said Christian, or has 'trespassed against' the Christian too many times. ... [Pardon me while I scream into my pillow.] Every excuse diverts back to the Christian's self-needs, failed ulterior motives, desires, or dislikes. [[Little Voice Inside: Get over yourSELF!]] Last I checked, being a Christian isn't about one's SELF.

[*also, please note that all people are broken people. This isn't just about the unchurched. Splits happen in the church all the freakin' time. (All have fallen short... remember?)]

Sooo yeah... IMHO, that 'line' has been crossed out. [And yes, that is a pun.]

[/rant]

Reflections

I would be concerned at my lack of blogging lately, but it seems Orville picked up the slack for me... floppy little punk.

It's odd how a sudden lack of drama in one's life results in fewer blog rants. ... Actually, I suppose it isn't that odd. That said, there is (happily?) less drama in my life these days. Christmas break was wonderfully relaxing, my migraines finally ceased and I'm off the RX for them, and my darling roomie (now suitie) is back this semester. On top of that, I've only got 2 required classes left to graduate, meaning the rest of my final semester of college is filled up with fun art classes (huzzah!). Epiphany is still swinging, I'm still working in the PR office at the university, and I still sit in on floor council meetings to add my random comments and quirky remarks. Overall, things look promising for these final months at Evangel.

In retrospect, there are several moments since my last blog post that weigh on me with dull pangs of loss yet fondness. I'll treasure the memory of that silly boy who partnered with me in swing dancing, at first restrained, yet, after being told by the instructor that this was his chance to toss me around a bit, suddenly energetic and in command. I'll smile fondly at my pensieve when watching another instructor ask to borrow me for a demonstration, and how my partner at first refused to share me, and how he stepped up his efforts and aggressiveness to learn the steps after said cut-in. I'll remember the Wednesday getaways, stealing off to the nature center for a picnic and walk (and homework that was never touched).

I'll always smile at the image of that silly turnip with a sharpied face, the words "Harvest Fest?" inked on the back. I grin at fights to be king/queen of the hill/rock in Jordan Valley park, and random reading sessions on blankets in parks throughout Springfield. I roll my eyes at the silly Skype convos, whether deep or random banter, and how the program so enjoyed cutting out at its pleasure, leaving us to grumble and groan. I'll remember the mutual growth, and the conversations that let us push each other.

Who can forget anime nights? or dinner at the wise ol' Prof's? Death Note. ftw.

I'll remember the darker times too, when friends fell on low spirits and called, when the best way to speak was through words on a white board, and chocolate proved (as usual) priceless.

But there were highlights! Hello, Renfest!! The lovely "Renee" in gold and red threads, the small-one (who I still family:optima should have bought those elf ears!), and of course, the boyzz whom we dragged through it all (you know they loved it, if nothing else, then for those naughty-dirty pirates). HA! Wonderful times.

imho, the fall semester of 2010 was the most difficult I had to plough through in my college career, and I feel as if I didn't escape it completely unscarred--but scrapes help us grow, no?

Perhaps this isn't the most insightful blog I've posted, but I wanted to preserve, in type, some memories from this past year. I'm excited for what the following months hold, and I'm grateful for the people on this journey with me.

Onward, to the CENTER of the EARTH! (or at least to graduation in May!)

Why Hello~ Orville here.

[Okay, I'm sure the grand two of you who follow this word-hash have noticed a severe lack of recent blogging these past few months. In my usual brilliance I would attribute this to the fact that Snowl has nothing worth reporting to the world as of late. However, that would not be entirely fair on Snowl's behalf and (since she will likely eventually see that I snuck on and wrote this) I must say that her usual insight and 'wisdom' is sorely missed by the world (of two readers who follow her blog). Hence, I, the Amazing Orville, have decided to fill you all in on Snowl's happenings, since the poor gal is too preoccupied with that whole 'life' thing to do so herself. Prepare, dear mortals, for the Orville's first monologue report!

I should probably point out that Snowl is plowing through the first semester of her last year of undergrad college... so her usual energies put into this blog have been re-funneled into studies. On top of that, the poor mess fought off chronic migraines for the first two months of school. (And as much as I enjoyed the extra cuddle time, she did look rather pathetic in that state.) Thankfully, modern science came through with a cure and I now get to make druggie jokes at her expense, since the school nurse wrote her a RX to chase the head-pains away. Now she is trying to make up the first couple months' worth of homework in the past couple weeks. (Makes me grateful I'm an owl and therefore inherently brilliant and all-knowing so that studies are unnecessary.)

On top of time-consuming classwork and daily brain-implosions, Snowl also had to cope with her first semester roomie-less (save for me, of course, and I simply don't understand why I didn't suffice. whatever.) as the dear Tulio/Rutt/Roy was absent, and many of her friends flew off into the world with their diplomas in hand at the end of last term. (Moper. Get over it and make new friends. Or hang with me more!) On top of that, one of her greater efforts at making a new friend suffered a fall-out at the end of summer which she -still- hasn't fully recovered from. (Girly, as much as I like the guy, he's not worth your poetry IMHO. MOVE ON.) So on top of course work, migraines and loneliness, she seemed repeatedly depressed at the lack of this douche-bag she'd grown so freakin' attached to. (I just don't get girls. He constantly flakes and messes with your head, but throw her a bone of your time and *poof!* she's right back to square one. 'Oh Orville, I just don't understand.' 'Oh Orville, I miss him so much.' 'Oh Orville...etc.' Pardon me while I vomit dust bunnies. Pathetic. Er, no offense Snowl. I love you. ... Erm, yes. *cough* ) (If you ask me they were both playing too carefully and ended up stalemating, so no one won. Humans and their dumb games... time to reset the board and start fresh. Maybe they can do better a second time around. *eyeroll*) But who needs love when you've got an ORVILLE like me?? Silly Snowl.

On a more positive note, Snowl was granted the honor of co-running Epiphany this year, which has been (although time-consuming) a positive inspiration for her writing. It is also forcing her to talk to more people, which I generally encourage (darn hermit). She is also on floor council again this semester, and has enjoyed meeting the new girls on W1S (which is pretty much the best kept secret of awesomeness at EU. just sayin'.) I myself got to play in the floor bunko party, and promptly defeated Snowl with a better score card (and no, I haven't let her hear the end of it since!). I also acquired several numbas from da lovely ladies~~*cough*. But yes, there have been definite highlights to this semester as well, and most of those highlights revolve around the darling people in her life (special props to 'Renee,' Turnip-Head, Roomie-turned-RA, and the Beauties of 117 for your awesomeness that brings sunshine on the dreariest of days).

As for me, life is as usual. I chill in bed most the time, Snowl smushes me in her sleep and fishes me from the crack between her bed and the wall in the morning, and I get to entertain guests she has over. I kinda smell like a mix of bed-head and febreeze, which is awesome. And as always, don't crack a joke at me, because I will glare at you. I have no sense of humor. At all. *glares*

I should probably wrap this up because the mistress will be back soon from Wally World. Oh, and don't mention this blog to her--I want to see how long it takes Snowl to figure it out. HA.

-Orville out.]

Gifts and Spaghetti

Orville’s note: Men are like waffles, women spaghetti. Welcome to Olive Garden.

No matter how much you deny it, the highlight of Christmas for every little American boy and girl was the beautiful stack of presents under the tree. I’m often skeptical when girlfriends tell me that they don’t like gifts—normally this insert falls into talks about the 5 love languages, and it seems everyone thinks they would sound selfish to admit that gifts have any meaning to them. I’m sorry, but I just don’t buy it.

The idea behind a gift is that someone saw something that made them think of you, so on impulse they bought it/made it for you in the hope that maybe, even just for a moment, you’d feel a glimmer of excitement, self-worth, value, love, etc. etc. A good gift takes thought, time, and generally a cost to the giver... anyone who works for their money understands this. But to the receiver, the gift is completely free.

So why knock the gift love language ladies? You’re not foolin’ anyone.

I’d say my top two love languages, hands down, are quality time and gifts. When it comes down to it, time is really the only thing we have, so when someone gifts you their time, well… it’s beautiful, isn’t it? They never get that time back, and they chose to spend it with you.

I had a bit of a rattling weekend. Besides the fact I got very little rest / quiet time, sat in the heat all day Saturday, and had to drive eight hours without AC in the 95* oven known as my truck, I also had an encounter that shook my content view of reality.

My 13-year-old sister had a softball regional tournament on the eastern border of Missouri. My mom caravanned with her team out there and my dad drove down from Wisconsin to watch her play. My folks divorced when my sister was 1 and I was 8 going on 9. Dad is remarried with two kids who are 6 and 3—and who probably contribute to my own lack of desire to ever have children. Dad thought it would be easier though to drive down alone. I was glad to see him, since I hadn’t since Christmas break—that’s half a year since I’d seen my papa.

Mom and dad were on their best behavior towards each other for the sake of Stacie’s tournament. Actually, they got along splendidly. It was weird. The rattle-moment struck me when the four of us went out to eat at a bbq place for lunch together and dad paid for mom’s coffee. (She and Stacie had already eaten earlier.) The four of us were sitting there visiting and having a good time, talking about the tournament, my summer job, etc. etc. The casual passerby probably thought we were one happy family of four. That’s when my brain exploded.

This was how it was supposed to be.

It blew my mind.

I guess as a kid I never gave too much thought to the single parent home thing. Sure, when it first happened I missed my dad, but I quickly got used to the absence and the 16-hour car rides up to see him (thank God for gameboys…) for the summer and holidays and whatnot. And I loved birthday and Christmas gifts from my family because, although I didn’t get to see them much, those were things I could take with me, and whenever I saw those things, I’d think of the family members that gave them to me. I love sifting through memories when just sitting alone in my room as I see each gift and remember its significance.

During the car ride back to Springfield my mom drove with me since the Kansas bound caravan went through Springfield on their way home.

“Do you realize what this weekend was?” she asked me.

Me: “Ummm… Stacie’s softball tournament…?”

Mom: “If your father and I had stayed together, this weekend would have been our 25th anniversary weekend.”

And my mind imploded again.

Our conversation drifted onto the topic of how their split influenced the difference between my sister’s personality and mine. For those of you who don’t know, I’m kinda the loner quiet type who likes to write, paint, and dabble with ideas. My sister is an outgoing jock. It doesn’t get much more opposite.

“You used to be different,” mom said. “In Virginia you were the popular kid, I remember.” She laughed. “Remember how you used to bark?”

She talked about the softball clinic she put me in one year, and how I used to talk to anyone, and how she remembered watching the changes.

“Then there was that girl who really hurt you in Wisconsin,” she glowered. “What was her name again?”

“Sam.” *grumblegrumble*

Mom nodded. “You got really quiet after that, even when we moved to Kansas. You didn’t seem to want to be friends with the kids I thought you should be friends with. I never understood it.” I didn’t say anything. “But you’ve always love art,” mom observed. “Even in Virginia. Other interests you’d jump between, but you always came back to your art.”

I nodded. “You don’t need other people to make art,” I said. “You don’t need a team, or a partner. It’s just you and the canvas. It’s portable. You don’t need a baseball diamond, or a stage. Just you, your mind, your ideas. Same thing with writing. Plus, when you get it all out on a page, all that chaos wracking around inside that makes no sense—when you can see it, written out in text or paint—you can let it go.”

Mom paused for a bit. “I’ve always thought us very blessed,” she finally said. “After all, I was supposed to be bringing different boyfriends home every night and you and Stacie were supposed to be caught up on drugs and pregnant and who knows what else by now. But we dodged all of that.” She sighed. “I’m very grateful.”

“We had a good foundation,” I said.

“Well, I think the God factor is what got us through,” mom replied.

“… That’s what I meant…”

“Oh.”

The conversation then turned to church issues, which I won’t go into right now, but there is a bit more spaghetti to be had. People have always told me that creativity is a gift from God, and that God’s gifts serve a purpose in our lives. Numerous times I’ve been told that God has blessed me with a wonderful gift in my art. Well, a gift is something someone puts thought and time into that they think the receiver will benefit from in some way, right?

This thought popped into my head around this point in the convo with ma: what if God looked down and saw this little girl, and saw the future ahead of her. His heart ached, because this division was not his ideal, but humans will be humans and bicker and split. But the little girl? How will she cope? She was years from even glimpsing the might of her heavenly father. How could he carry her though?

He’d give her a gift. A gift that would ease her heart and calm her mind, that would bring her joy and praise that would carry her confidence through the darkness, and would help her heal. He’d give her a gift that would provide a means to other doors, and would connect her with others like herself so she’d never be alone. And he would bless her in her endeavors with this gift even if she didn’t realize its origin or purpose, because once given, the gift was hers to use as she’d need it.

Is it so hard to believe? A passion sparked in the heart of a little girl that would consistently throughout her life pull her back up when everything else is crumbling, dubbed by others as a gift from God, was, indeed, a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful GIFT from God.

We all know of THE gift from God, which is why we celebrate Christmas. But don’t bash the smaller, subtler gifts. A gift is a beautiful thing. Don’t discredit what God has given you.

Several people the last couple days have asked me if something was wrong. Nothing is wrong; I’ve just had a lot of noodles to sort through. Hence, the word-vomit above.

Fragile my foot.

[Orville's note: Names have been changed for the sake of privacy. Then again, if Snowl was really concerned about keeping things quiet, she wouldn't bother posting anything in this blog. But that's just my opinion. And what do I know since I'm just an owl.]


Snowl: So guess who's in here chatting with Mr. Boss...? I feel like my turf has been invaded. Must prepare minions for sneak attack on danger-danger.


Renee: Wait a min... you mean cleavage girl?


Snowl: No, lol. I meant our fun-dangerous male friend. I'm officially invited over for the evening again. super. Renee, SAVE ME FROM MYSELF! AUGHHHHHH!


Renee: There is no help for you.


Snowl: That's what I was afraid of.

~~~

So I was recently buried alive beneath a suffocating mound of blankets and then sat upon by my arch rival in taking over the world. As he snickered gleefully at his little ploy, I dramatically emerged from the depths to strike at his weakest point--the tickle spot. [Of which he has many.] As said arch-rival scampered away in giggly defeat, I of course gave chase--who wouldn't?--only to have him bow out ever-so-humbly by saying he refused to partake in such play with a girl since girls were more fragile than boys. 


Fragile my foot! You just knew I'd win this tickle-fight!


*simmergrumblesimmer*


Since when is it okay to sit upon suffocating females but not okay to let them tickle you to pieces?? The injustice. bah. 


I feel the need to say thank you to another of my friends who has proved very helpful in the editing process of my book [that she might actually finish in another ten years or so]. Besides the comments that rip my main character to shreds, he has actually been very helpful in working out some of the kinks I've been stuck on (yay for rewriting chapter 4! again!) and catching smaller things I overlooked (changed ack-centz any-von?).


During this editing process said editing friend has given me wonderful insight into the male psyche [since Snowl is female she tends to need all the help she can get in this department]. Overall, Mr. Ef (editing friend, as he shall now be called) was (dare I say?) impressed with the reactions of my main character [despite his repeat stupidity] in how he would interact with a new female interest. Mr. Ef then gave me a multi-page breakdown of what exactly was going through said character's mind on each smile, look or word from the new female character. It was quite insightful, I must say. 


So of course, as with all fun reading/writing, I then tried to see how much of this new knowledge [the girl was handed a freakin' gem of information] on the page really applied to real life. And the results of this inside scoop? 


I have concluded that insecure males simply need to buck up and realize that if they want something, they need to freakin' grow some [*ahem*] and pursue it. (or in this case, her.) [Ouch.] Seriously though! How long does a guy expect a girl to wait around for him to decide if he's interested or not? This isn't rocket science! Generally speaking, most girls know within five seconds whether or not they'd date a guy. We're really not nearly as complicated as people make us out to be. [Yes, but Snowl...] No buts! Ok, ok, sometimes getting to know a guy better will shift that initial call (quite likely for the better, if a guy is bothering to put time into pursuing a girl), but in general, all the excess mind games of trying to figure out how interested a girl is are quite unnecessary. If anything, those excess stall games will only cause great confusion and annoyance on the girl's part and do more harm than good. Especially if the girl is impatient. [Like you.] Like me. Wait, no. [Ha!] 


So long story short, bluntness is generally the best option. Like a girl? Tell her. Know a girl likes you but don't return the feelings? Tell her. That way she doesn't have to keep wondering and waste time/emotions on it. Just be honest. We can handle it, really. We're not as fragile as we look. 

blah blah blah (gotta love the originality...)

Today was a gray day that could have never happened and my life would be the same.


These days make me melancholy.


Work went well, I suppose; it was just me and the boss in the office--did some editing, filed files for about 3 hours... got stuff done, left around 4.


Zoomed 45 miles south to pick up the room mates from the airport--it's about a 50 minute drive, and ol' Trisk only gets about 18 miles a gallon on a good day, and this was through mild mountains--you do the math--so the landlord-roomie graciously gives me 10 bucks off this month's rent. The other roomie skipped the thank you and went right into an accusation about not moving the trash bin away from the street. Whatever. Next time they can get a taxi and save me two hours and 30 bucks. *grumblegrumblegrumble* Or just fly out of the airport in the town we live in... heaven forbid you spend the extra 20 bucks and save someone else the hassle and gas money to take you and pick you up. Sorry, I'm venting.


Finally getting back was nice--tried out a new chinese place with one of my favorite people, then crashed on her couch for about 20 minutes later on, ha. [Snowl has excellent social skills as I'm sure you can tell.]


Made it home for the night around 8-ish, cleaned some dishes, attempted to accomplish something with my bank account online but of course the bloody thing decided to freeze up, so I suppose I'll phone tomorrow about it... so I called it quits put in a movie and painted for two hours. Ironically, my hand randomly selected 'He's not that into you' from my movies case [she's useless in decision-making when like this so I actually picked for her] but it was basically perfect for my recent grumble-state about relationships in general. [[I promise I'm not usually this moody. *sigh* I hate feeling this way. angst angst angst. Thank you, Tiny Tim, for the word of the weekend.]] And to top off my evening, while I was finally starting to calm down for the night I spotted a centipede-like demon-bug scurrying under my bed. How wonderful. Now I won't be able to sleep tonight.