love.

Well, I missed yesterday. However, hopefully the length of tomorrow's blog will make up for it. Today in church I got some new inspirations for my book SO tomorrow I'm just going to write and see what happens. For today, though, since it's Valentine's Day, I'd like to re-post someting that I wrote on this day in 2006. It's just interesting to see where I was on this day 4 years ago:


Valentine's what? Valentine's SUCKS.

Yes, that's right, I said it - Valentine's Day is DUMB. It should be entitled "Let's Make Singles Feel Bad Day," because, the way I see it, if you do have a significant other in your life, they should be treating you like it's Valentine's 365 days a year, not just one. It's a dumb marketing ploy that the stores came up with just so they could have one more reason to sell a card. You know what I think it is? SICK. And you know what else is sick? Here at good ol' UU, I'm sure some of you know that we have certain hours on the weekends that guys can come in our dorms and we can go in theirs...but they made TODAY be open dorms from 1-8 just because it's stupid Valentine's Day. Can I throw up now? Please? And after that I'll treat myself to a whole box of expensive chocolate, buy myself a diamond necklace, and toast a glass of champagne to...nothing. Yes, that's right - here's to you, Cupid, for ruining my life. Thanks a lot; it's been really great. Not.

I heard some single friends of mine talking in one of my classes today, and one of them said, "You know, I mean, Valentine's Day isn't that bad! I don't love it, but it's not like I hate it..." and I turned around and said, "You know what? No! Valentine's Day SUCKS." Seriously, most days I'm completely fine with being single, but do we really have to declare a national holiday where we all point and laugh at those members of the population who just happen to be lucky enough to be alone on the biggest day for couples of the entire year? Honestly. That's exactly what I am - honest. I wouldn't describe me as bitter, just honest. I'm not going to sit back and pretend that Valentine's Day doesn't suck for single people, because it does. Don't deny it - it really does.

Wow - how different my life is now! 2006 was my last single Valentine's Day. I don't really remember how I felt, but apparently I didn't like it too much. You know, this does give me a lot more sympathy for my single friends. I feel like I should read this every Valentine's Day just to give me some insight on how a lot of people in the world feel on this day. Well, no matter how your day has gone, whether you have someone to celebrate with or not, I hope this is a day you can celebrate just love itself. Because, in the wise words of the Beatles, "All you need is love." It is, after all, "a many splendored thing," as Frank Sinatra would say. Many would argue, but it's impossible to live, really live, without it. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that whoever believes in him will not parish but have everlasting life" (John 3:16). Love is the only way to life.

day four.

I'm watching the Opening Show for the Winter Olympics 2010. So far, it's been supa cool - thanks for the entertainment, Vancouver, thanks.

The Olympics gets me thinking, though. When I was 6 years old, I was on track to be an olympic gymnast. Yes, I know that sounds a bit silly now, since I'm 22 and all. But seriously, I started gymnastics when I was 3 years old, and by the time I was 6, I was already on level 9 (the highest possible) and in classes with all 14 and 15 year olds. That year, my coach sat down with my mom and me and told us I was on the road to the Olympics and that I needed to be on the team. I competed for 2 years, but when I was 8, I quit. Gymnastics was hurting my back, and my mom was worried. To this day, she says it was my decision, but I think I didn't want to disappoint her. I missed it so much that I tried to go back when I was 10, but I had lost a lot of my abilities and I was too upset with myself to keep going, so I quit again. I moved on to voice, piano, and drama lessons and that was that.

It makes me wonder, though, what would my life be like if I had stayed on that track? To this day I feel like it's the only thing in my life I've been really good at. I wonder how I would feel about myself, who my friends would be, where I would live. I know I'm where I'm supposed to be, and I really do love my life. Honestly, I wouldn't trade anything for my husband and friends, and I wouldn't know hardly any of them if I had become a professional gymnast. Actually, the people in my life are my favorite part about it; I like them so much more than I like myself.

But it still hurts to think about that dead dream. It gives me more motivation to really be a writer, though, and a good one. That is my dream now, and I will not give it up.

"you are lookin' GOOD" say the people in my pictures

Today is a day to be documented in history. According to my husband, “Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

That’s because today, friends, I went to apply for a job. I read the end of 1 Chronicles. Then, I even decided that tomorrow is the day to put pictures in the picture frames.

To you, that probably seems like a very minor thing. But these picture frames have been empty for 7 and a half months now, ever since I moved in here. It’s getting to be sad. Pictures are one thing I depend on for sustenance. I love to be surrounded by pictures, so that when everything is going wrong, I can look around at the smiling faces all around me saying, “Hey, we love you anyway.” It’s time for me to put my life support up on the walls and embrace my new life.

You know, though, change is funny. Even though I’m making all these positive changes in my life, there are still these damn things I can’t seem to get rid of. Is it like that for everyone? For some people, it’s hair in the shower drain, nicotine stains, in-laws, etc. For me, it’s a number of annoying thoughts and habits. I feel like they creep up at the most unwanted times; for example, just when I’m feeling good about myself, I look at the mirror and realize how much weight I’ve gained. And I was just thinking that I was doing well! Sometimes I just want to look in the mirror and say, “Okay really? Can you save that thought for another time? Because I was just enjoying being AWESOME.” Argh. It never ends. Just like lint on your black pants. No matter how many times you roll, there will still be that stray piece of fuzz. I mean seriously, what’s its problem? Can’t it just leave us alone?

Even in the midst of this really good day, I still burned my dinner. And you know what we were having? A frozen pizza. Could anything possibly be easier to cook? But I still messed it up. I’m improving, but it still looks like I have a ways to go. Damn.

"don't write stuff on here next time" -my left hand.

You know what I saw on the news yesterday? That Sarah Palin had an interview and wrote some notes on her hand. Now, the whole United States is up in some tizzy because apparently it's not okay to write notes on your hand when you're under the political microscope in this country.

You know what I have to say to that: Who the heck cares?

Last time I checked, Sarah Palin is incredibly smart and talented; if she weren't, she wouldn't be where she is. Throughout my life, I've made notes on my hands more times than I can count, and I'm sure most of the country is in the same boat as I am on that one. I just don't understand what the big problem is. I think that anyone (yes, even democrats) who has gotten far enough in the political world to be talked of as a presidential candidate, then he or she has earned the rights to write a note on a hand if he or she wants to. But hey, maybe that's just me.

Currently, I'm addicted to Mario on the Wii. Mark is discovering a new side of me - the gamer. He's never experienced it before. Well, since I have nothing much more to say for today, I think I'm gonna go play.

day one.

Well, it certainly has been a while again. And I have a new theory: New Month's Resolutions.

Every year, at the beginning of January, millions of people (myself included) make resolutions that fail 99% of the time. And why? Because we make them and then never look at them again. I'm pretty sure one of the principles of goal setting is to make little checkpoints along the way. For instance, if a person wants to lose 30 pounds, it won't happen unless a workout plan and eating regimen is established. The same is true for every other goal in life. One of my new year's resolutions this year was to get my apartment organized and clean. So, it only makes sense to make goals like: by the end of this month, everything will have a place; no more loose things lying around. I've decided to do this with all my resolutions, plus a few more. So, here we go.

1) (The original resolution was: Get a job.) February resolution: Make some phone calls and do some research.

2) (Original resolution: Finish the Bible.) February resolution: Finish Chronicles through Psalms.

3) (Original resolution: Write a book.) February resolution: Write a chapter, figure out a plot for Tuesday.

4) (Original resolution: Get something published.) February resolution: Do some research in my Writer's Market books.

5) (Original resolution: Get my apartment clean and organized.) February resolution: Have a place for everything.

6) (Original resolution: Be a better wife...) February resolution: Do something special and out of the norm for Mark.

7) (Original resolution: ...daughter...) February resolution: Tell my parents I want them to come eat with us.

8) (Original resolution: ...sister...) February resolution: Call Amy just because.

9) (Original resolution: ...and friend.) February resolution: Write 10 notes to people telling them how much I love them.

10) (Original resolution: Serve. Serve. Serve.) February resolution: Talk to my Hartland girls about Jesus.

11) Finish reading Alice in Wonderland.

12) Write in my prayer journal every day for the rest of the month.

13) Write in my blog every day for the rest of the month. I've decided I'm starting my 365 over again. Welcome, day one.

Well, I think that's enough for now. I've decided I'm going to do this every month, so as to keep a better check on myself and my life. I've found that it's really easy for people who are prone to depression to lose themselves in meaningless things for months at a time, only to emerge and realize that half their life has slipped by. I don't want to be one of those people anymore.

Depression comes and goes in funny ways and times. It's frustratingly unpredictable, and it really is an addiction. As badly as you want it to disappear, there's the familiarity of it, just like alcohol or pain pills or purging food. Often, it's harder to fight depression off and "be happy" than it is to succumb to the dull state of meaninglessness. I'm getting a lot better at it though; it just takes some time. Since this is my second round of major depression in my life, I've had experience. It's comforting because I got out once. It's nightmarish to think of the statistics, though: 30% of people who have had major depression once are likely to go through it a second time. However, 70% of the people who go through it twice are likely to go through third and fourth (and on it goes) rounds throughout their lifetime. Great news, eh? Oh well, I do believe in hope and strength from Jesus, which is all that's getting me through these days. I suppose he's all that will ever get me through life, though.

In other news, the theory of global warming has been proven to be complete bullshit. Where is Al Gore these days? Probably in Australia to avoid ridicule. It's already the third snow day of the year here in West Tennessee, and they're calling for more this weekend. I'm definitely not complaining. If it's this cold, it needs to snow. And secondly, I love when Mark is home from work. So bring on the Ice Age: I'm ready.

Well, that's really all I have for now. I've gotten further with my ideas for my character Tuesday, although my plot has completely changed. I'm still foggy on where I'm going in the end, but I'll just try to work on the beginning for now. I like to write stuff on here first and then save it in a word document. Word documents are like a brain block to me sometimes. I tend to just sit there and stare at the curser for a really long time with no direction. If I'm writing on here, though, I feel like I need to go someplace so I can post my work. So, hopefully this will inspire some words that will become worth something someday.

***

September 19, 1996

Dear Diary,

Guess what? I'm twelve years old today. Today! I'm so excited. And my birthday is on a Friday, how lucky is that?! I don't have much time to write, but I just wanted to write something on the best day of my life so far. Today for lunch, Mimi and Paw Paw are coming over, and tonight, I'm having Allison, Kayley, Jewel, Rose, and Ashley to spend the night at the cabin! Mom, Dad, Ivy, and Bear are coming too. Well, that's all for now. Hasta la vista!

Love,

Tuesday

My name is Tuesday - yes, like the day of the week. I didn't know it at the time, but my twelfth birthday was a monumental event. Life is funny that way; often, we seem to place the most importance on all the wrong things. For instance, in my twelfth year of life, I was concerned about how to wear my hair, who to sit with at church, what new phrase I could learn in Spanish, and what shade of lip gloss matched my purse that matched my shoes. Looking back, I should've been spending my time hugging my dad, asking my mom how to make her vegetable soup, going to the mall with Ivy, and telling Bear that his girlfriend Leah was an idiot. But I didn't, and I couldn't predict the future. If I had only known what my thirteenth birthday would be like, my twelfth one would have meant so much more. Twelve year olds don't think like that though - not even Mother Theresa or Martin Luther King, Jr. On their twelfth birthdays, I can guarantee she was a brat and he was racist. It's just a fact of life: twelve-year-olds are consumed with themselves. They just are.

One June Saturday, when I was nine and Bear was thirteen, I helped him wash and wax both our family cars while my parents were gone on a shopping trip with the Murdock's from down the street. It was his idea, and I just wanted to keep him company. I remember the conversation we had like it was seconds ago, though:

"Bear, why are we doing this?" I asked.

"To surprise Mom and Dad when they get home," he answered.

"But Bear, can't they do it themselves?"

"Well, 'course they can." A few moments went by with no sound except our squeaking sponges. The sun beat our backs like it wanted to be included in the conversation, too.

"Then why are we doing it for them?" I said finally.

"Because it's nice," he replied.

My sponge stopped moving as I pondered this thought. "I don't understand."

"What do you mean, you don't understand?"

"I just don't know why they can't do it themselves."

"Tuesday, you're only nine. One of these days, you're gonna understand that sometimes you do nice things for people because you love them, y'see? Things mean a lot more to somebody when they didn't ask you to do them. Like the other day, remember when Ivy cleaned up all your toys so you wouldn't get in trouble when Mom got home? That's 'cause she loves you."

I thought about this seriously for a few moments. I was impressed with Bear's thought process. "Can we wash Gunner after we finish the cars? I bet Daddy'd like that."

He smiled down at me. " 'Course we can. I tell you what, Lil' Day, you're a smart one." Bear was always telling me how smart I was.

I didn't fully understand the concept, though. I was still awfully self-absorbed, but I tried to emulate Bear the best I could. To this day, he is the most servant-hearted person I've ever seen - well, he and my mother. I only wish I had understood before it was too late.

***

a bird's healing

"blackbird singing in the dead of night
take these broken wings and learn to fly..."

The other day, I was on the phone with my mother, and in a tone of disgust, she said, "Well, it's blackbird season again. They're everywhere!"

In rural West Tennessee, this means everyone goes out in their yards each evening to shoot off guns haphazardly in the air to prevent blackbirds from nesting in their trees for the night. When I was growing up, I remember coming back inside after the day grew too chilly and dark to play anymore, helping my mom set the dinner table, accompanied by the BOOMs from other yards in the neighborhood, some closer, like the Pierces or Moody's (right next door), some farther away, like the Todds, the Ashleys, or the Webbs (down the street).

Unlike most other people, I love blackbirds. I don't know whether it's the noise they make or their threat of histoplasmosis, but people are almost always trying to get rid of them. I don't really understand why; I like when things nest near me. It makes me think that they found me comfortable enough to stay for a while. Blackbirds have existed since day five of creation, so I figure they're not going to hurt a tree in my yard. Growing up, my parents were among the shooters shooing them away. I like to think that when I have my own house, I'll welcome them instead.

When I was in high school, one of the hardest times of my life, I began to trust in blackbirds (well, all birds, but black ones in particular) as signs from God. At first, I felt guilty because I thought this was sacriligious. Then, I studied more in depth and I learned that God does often use physical things like birds to communicate with his people (rainbows, parting seas, burning bushes, just to name a few). It's not like I was testing God; I do believe that would be petty on my part as a human. God has done great things in my life so far, and I know he will continue to. He doesn't need to prove himself to me by sending a bird past my window. However, I still think that every time a blackbird passes my way, God is trying to tell me how much he loves me. Why blackbirds? Because they're a constant. They always come - every year, they come sweeping back in, making the silhouettes of trees full, their branches filled with the hollow bones of bodies that can fit in the palm of my hand. In my life, I equate them to football in the fall, rolling eyes as sleepers dream, nodding heads when a good beat resounds, and previews at the movies. These things always happen. I think God lets us have some constants in our lives so we can understand his nature better. How could I ever understand what he means when he says, "I will never leave you or forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5) if everything else in the world left me as well?

No, the comparison isn't as good, and it's far from perfect. With God, it never is. There's a possibility that the blackbirds won't come back next year. But I still think God understands the human minds he created, and he knows all believers are running along toward him with our tiny thoughts, grappling with our own selves to understand his greatness. And I believe he sends us things to help us along.

Because he sends a sunrise every day, I'm able to understand that if he healed the blind and rich and poor and lame, he can heal me. To me, blackbirds are comfort; from him, with love.

"...all your life, you were only waiting
for this moment to arise."

writer's prompt

I feel like I don't have very much to say, and I've been feeling like that a lot lately (hence, my lack of posts). I was reading a blog earlier, http://pbackwriter.blogspot.com/, and it had an entry about being "blog blocked," and some solutions. There are websites out there that give you writing prompts and such, so I've decided it's time for me to do this. Until writing on here (and in general) is a habit, I need some help. I used to do this in middle and high school, and it helped my writing a lot. So, here goes. (The website I'm using is: http://www.nanok.com/in/, but there are countless others.)

Today's prompt: If you could follow someone around for one day (unseen), who would it be and why?

Well, I would have to say Barack Obama. I don't like Obama at all; I think he's a terrible president. However, I think I'd choose the President of the United States no matter who he (or she) was at the time. There's so much secrecy to being the president. What does Obama really do all day? Especially now that there's all this talk about him breaking his promises and making deals under the table. Yes, I know that I take movies like National Treasure: Book of Secrets too seriously, but I believe without a doubt that there are tons of things the president knows that I don't.

It's only 9:00 and I'm so exhausted I'm falling asleep at the keys, so I'm going to go watch some mindless TV before a quick Harry Potter session and bed. I just finished Year 4 today; 5 commences tonight. Have a good one.

meds and graves

It's one of those days again. You know, where all the thoughts in your brain seem to be going at hyper-speed but none of them can settle down enough to make much sense. This type of day has become regular to me since the new year decided to show its face; perhaps this is because I'm on so much medicine.

I take medicine four times a day. In the morning, I take birth control and allergy medicine. At lunch, I take calcium plus vitamin D. Another calcium plus vitamin D at dinner, as well as a seperate vitamin D pill. I finish off the day with lexapro and prilosec. Before the last couple of days, I was also taking ambien at night. I used to pride myself in being the only member of my family without a pill box; sadly, this is not the case anymore. Oh, well, I should've known...being highly medicated seems to run in my family, as well as all the other diseases: depression, alcoholism, kidney desease, heart disease, alzheimer's. Fortunately, I've only been plagued with the first of those in my life so far, and hopefully it will be the only.

The weather has been splendid lately. Yesterday, I got to spend time outside, barefoot, in a graveyard. Those are three of my favorite things in the whole world: outside, barefoot, graveyards. I realize my graveyard obsession is weird. But for one thing, there's so much history there. Think about it: yesterday, I came across many graves that had a lifespan from the 1880's-1940's. Imagine what life was like in the 1880's! The Civil War had just ended 15 years before. Arizona, Idaho, Montana, New Mexico, North Dakota, South Dakota, Oklahoma, Utah, Washington, and Wyoming weren't even states yet, much less Alaska and Hawaii. Gasoline-powered cars hadn't been invented. The internet, cell phones, and blogs were still a whole century away. Then the 1940's, right in the heart of World War II, with Adolf Hitler's peak and downfall, the end of the Great Depression, and the beginning of the baby boomers. All these things I learned in history class were their reality.

I find a different part of myself in graveyards, too. As I looked at the graves yesterday, I thought about how far away these people seemed, but how close, too: my great grandmother Nannie was alive at the turn of the century, and I knew her. These people could've been her friends. When I looked out at the graves stretching before me, I felt an overwhelming desire to have known all the people who were now six feet under, enjoying heaven or hating hell. I don't want to know them now, though; I wish I had known them when they were alive. They all each different personalities, families, and hobbies. Thinking about how they were all people just like me is overwhelming, especially considering all the graves there are in the world.

The other night, I was driving home from Memphis, and I noticed how much more prominent the stars seem when there aren't many other lights around. The number of stars God created in the universe is absolutely mind-blowing. Just like the number of people. You know, God's love is a powerful thing. He crafted every being as well as each separate thing individually, with its own characteristics and purpose. I am one explosive ball of light in a billion, one tiny ant on this thing called earth. Yet, still, God calls me and forgives me and knows me. And if that's not love, I don't know what is.

My parents are coming to eat with my husband and me tonight, so I better get to cleaning this messy apartment. Hopefully this day will be more productive than the last, and tomorrow more productive than today. Life should be taken one move forward at a time, so here I go with some stepping stones.

welcome back

Wow; it's been a while. I'm sorry. To myself.

I haven't written in a long time because I've been reading so much. Maybe too much. I forgot how much I love getting lost in a good book. Since the dawn of the new year, I've read the first two years of Harry Potter and then took a break to read The Lovely Bones, since the movie is coming out this weekend. Good one, Sebold. Strange, but thoroughly engrossing. Now I'm back to Harry Potter, and every page that passes, I'm more amazed and depressed at J.K. Rowling's talent. Come on, J.K., can't you share some? Just a little bit? Harry Potter's over; you don't need it anymore.

I've been watching this "Make It Or Break It" marathon all day, a show on ABC Family. I've never even watched it before today, and somewhere around 10:30 am, my best friend Katie and I got obsessed and never turned back. This girl on the show, Lauren, is a total bitch. Our favorite character is Emily. I desperately need a job.

My husband is pretty depressed today because Pete Carroll, the head coach of USC (University of Southern California) has decided to go coach the Seattle Seahawks. USC is our team, our obsession from September to January every year. Pete Carroll has been one of the most successful coaches USC has ever had. However, Mark thinks there might be some underground conspiracy going on that made Pete leave. I'd believe it. I mean, my dad's in the mafia, so I believe anything like that is possible. Mark is eating whatever he wants, watching as much TV as he wants, singing "I'm on a Boat" repeatedly, and yelling at ESPN more than ever. When it was official, he dubbed it "Black Saturday" and sat in his big tan recliner for 10 consecutive hours. "I can't believe it," he'd say over and over, shaking his head. "I just can't believe it."

Isn't it amazing how people we've never met can affect our lives? Never even come close to meeting. Just in the past couple of days, Mark feels like Pete broke up with him, and I could spend hours picking J.K. Rowling's genius brain for tips in my own career. It reminds me of my favorite part of The Lovely Bones, which actually was at the very beginning of the book:

"I moved my eyes into the cornfield, seeing if there was anything that in the morning the police might find. The hail bent the stalks and drove all the animals into their holes. Not so deep beneath the earth were the warrens of the wild rabbits I loved, the bunnies that ate the vegetables and flowers in the neighborhood nearby and that sometimes, unwittingly, brought poison home to their dens. Then, inside the earth and so far away from the man or woman who had laced a garden with toxic bait, an entire family of rabbits would curl into themselves and die."

So sad and yet so beautiful. We see things similarly, Susie Salmon.

january 4, 2010

I really have nothing important to say. It's just one of those times when I have millions of thoughts but none of them can come together to make any sense. So, I guess I'll just write some of them down. It will be completely incoherent, but hey, who's going to care?

I'm re-reading all the Harry Potter books right now. I'm currently in Year 2, which isn't one of my favorites, but it's still so freaking good it's ridiculous. My favorite years are 4 and 7. Reading Harry Potter makes me happy and sad at the same time - I'm so happy I get to experience its awesomeness, but I'm so sad I wasn't the one who created it. I'd die to have as much talent as J.K. Rowling does in one finger.

Right now, I'm eating my second banana of the day. Sometimes, I don't even like bananas, but I guess I do at the moment. This eating plan I have to be on is a bitch.

I'm about to dry my hair, and I will shed a TON. I pull out wads of hair every time I wash and dry it. Apparently, this is part of having an eating disorder and not getting enough protein. It's scary how much eating disorders affect you physically before you even realize it. I have to have a dexiscan (sp?) tomorrow to test my bone density. I hope I didn't let my body start eating away at my skeleton before I got help.

My husband is sitting next to me, watching ESPN, and he's adorable.

I really hope it snows this week. It's freezing outside, and it shouldn't be this cold if it's not going to snow. And speaking of cold, my wet hair is making me feel like I'm living in an igloo, so I'm going to go dry it. That's all for now.

green with envy?

So I watched the movie "The Blind Side" over Thanksgiving break. And I can't count the times since then that I've thought, I wish I were more like Leigh Anne Tuohy.

Honestly, I spend far too much time thinking about all the people I wish I were more like. My best friend Katie is everything I've ever wished I could be, so I think daily about how I wish I could perform some Freaky Friday stunt and switch lives with her (well, really, I don't want that because I don't want to curse her as being me). The thoughts of "who I'd rather be" nag at me day and night, all the time.

I wish I were more compassionate like my husband.

I wish I could cook like Rachael Ray (we have the same name, shouldn't we have some of the same talent?).

I wish I had an awesome job like my sister.

I wish I were brave like Harry Potter.

I wish I could dress as cute as a J.Crew model.

I wish I could play the guitar like my dad.

I wish I could create my own world like Tolkein, Lewis, Rowling, or Dahl.

I wish I could play Rockband like my sister's friend Tony.

And the list drones on.

But as I am sitting here thinking about all this, what good does it do? None. The only thing it does is make me extremely tired. Wanting to be someone else all the time is wearisome.

If I had to guess, I'd say that envy is the most wearisome of all the deadly sins. Obviously, someone who is slothful is probably pretty well-rested. A prideful person probably can go to sleep at night thinking they're awesome. Wrath, lust, and gluttony can all be acted upon. It's possible to explode on someone with anger, to have an affair, or to eat way past the moment that the hunger light goes off. Even greedy people have goals that are often attainable; they just want more of what they already have. However, people who are envious often want what they cannot have. It is impossible to switch bodies, families, talents, or every bit of your stuff with anyone. (Okay, I realize the last one is possible. Just not too probable unless you get on some crazy reality show, and then it's probably not real anyway.)

Perhaps, then, God created us to be satisfied with who we are. Ah, now there's a thought.

It's so easy to argue this. God is tough one to argue with, though.

But if I were just more beautiful like her, I'd be more successful. If I were a talented businessman like him, I'd be able to provide better for my family.

"All beautiful you are, my darling, there is no flaw in you," God retorts. "Commit your work to the Lord, then it will succeed."

But if I could be a professional sports star, or a famous actor, I'd use my fame for your glory.

God continues, "Your frame was not hidden from me when you were made in the secret place. When you were woven together in the depths of the earth, my eyes saw your unformed body. All the days ordained for you were written in my book before one of them came to be."

But what about my family? Why is my father so abusive? My mother such a broken excuse for a human? Is it wrong for me to long for something whole?

"But you know me, for I live with you and will be in you." He proclaims, "I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you."

But, what if I --

"No."

But, if I just could be like --

"No."

How about --

"No. I created you just as you are, and you need to enjoy my creation in yourself."

As tired as I get from being envious, I wonder how tired God is of telling me that I'm finding myself in all the wrong things?

resolutions.

Well, it's a new year, so I suppose I should make some resolutions. Here they are:

1) Get a job.

2) Finish the Bible (I'm stuck in Chronicles).

3) Write a book (or at least a lot of one).

4) Get something published.

5) Get my apartment clean and organized.

6) Be a better wife...

7) ...daughter...

8) ...sister...

9) ...and friend.

10) Serve. Serve. Serve.

Happy 2010.