Whatcha Gonna Do When They Come for You?

5 - Swimming lesson instructor.

6 - Teacher.

9 - Famous singer.

10 - Missionary.

12 - Writer.

15 - Married to a billionaire.

17 - Actress.

18 - Mother.

19 - Youth pastor.

21 - Pastor.

23 - Travelling poet through Japan, conquering skyscrapers and scary hairstyles with my devastatingly touching iambic pentameter.

At each age, these were my highest aspirations. Some are still with me (hello, famous singing career, here I come), and some are long dead. I never wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer or astronaut or princess, because it was never about the money (except marrying rich, of course); it was about living out what I was passionate about.

So. Self-analysis time. What am I most passionate about at this moment?

...Reading my Bible, making delicious food, making anything really, going on adventures.

Okay. Now why am I doing anything else?

Obvious answer: it's all part of the plan. Finish school, do what's required, I'll thank myself later. And realistically, I'll be done in just over 5 months. That's all. But until then...I'm dragging myself through the mud.

I want a better attitude! I really do. And there are parts about school I absolutely love to bits. But there's the parts that literally take the things I used to love and twist them into ugly representations of lovely things. Too hardcore? Fine. The joy for learning is gone when I'm over-worked and under-prepared and hungover (JOKES) and, in some cases, have already learned exactly the same thing in five other courses (this happens more often than you'd think). And other things still hurt. I think I've mostly forgiven the painful bits from over the last whiles, but it doesn't make the hurt any less legitimate. Sometimes I forget how badly it still affects my heart, and then a reminder stuffs itself into my face and I cannot breathe all over again.

Sidenote: What do you do when you know something that literally no one else on the planet knows except the person whose secret it is to tell, and this information could destroy everything for someone else? What do you do when there is no "sworn to secrecy," but instead a mutual silence? What do you do when you know you should do the right thing, but in the end no one will thank you for it?

End sidenote.

I am fighting through this, but I'd rather enjoy the ride. What's the worst that happens? I don't get A+'s across the board? Unlikely at this point, anyways. I don't graduate with highest honours? ...I'm guessing that I'm the only person who cares if I do that or not. The school I want won't accept me because my grades blow chunks? I take the road set out for me instead of the one that was obviously of me.

I am officially letting go of perfection and instead striving to enjoy this at least a little bit more than I have been. Hello, folks! It's celebration time. Freedom is nearly here. It's taste is strongly overpowering my leftover coffee and midnight cigarette (JOKES...about the coffee. JOKES! Gosh).

Don't Want to Just Make Love

I love when I get to go to sleep to the steady thrum of rain pounding down on the roof, only to wake up to clear skies and a light heart.

I have no more classes. I have a few assignments and then I am officially done. I realized today that everything I came here to accomplish has been completed. Every year I had a different goal and every year I have achieved it, amazingly enough. The road was harder than it needed to be and maybe if I had just listened to a still small voice more often I could have stayed on the straight and narrow. But here I stand, alive. I survived it.

There's only One who I can thank, despite how far apart we've been. Without Him, I would not have made it out alive. Really. So, God, thank You. It's time we start to celebrate my life and who You are in it, instead of remaining locked in this death march just because I know the steps.

It is for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery.

Crunch Time

I have no time to blog, or think or eat or anything else. I have wasted the last few weeks (months?) putting off the things I need to do. Suddenly it's crunch time and I'm overwhelmed and that little voice inside is telling me "If only you had done it all when you had the time, there wouldn't be any stress now," but my logical self yells back "I didn't feel any more capable of doing it then than I do now!" Homework. I despise homework. Homework is not how I learn, nor is it conducive to making me more willing to learn. I like to teach myself and then talk with other people who have done the same. That's all. This business of attending classes and doing stupid weekly assignments and writing long-winded reports that will never apply to my life or ministry is suffocating.

I thought that deciding to not return next year would give me an energy boost to finish this semester well; in reality, it has made everything more difficult. There is no part of me that wants to do the work, except the nagging part telling me that if I were to return in a few years' time i would hate to re-take these courses. So. No desire, no real motivation, but between now and lunch (less than 2 hours) I plan to hammer out as much as can possibly be done. This does not feel like freedom, and it was for freedom that I was set free.

Day 150

Also known as the day I can officially stop counting. But I do not want this to change my resolve. No matter how drunk on freedom I might be, I need to stay strong.

All I know right now is that I am very very tired and need sleep more than these delicious chili crispy minis or the heater or Community.

Oh, and I really like wasting time.

What Do You Wanna Marry Me for Anyhow?

So I can kiss you any time I want.

I fall in love with things, make myself love them more than necessary, and then deprive myself and wonder why my life is painfully empty. I am currently rediscovering one of my greatest lost loves: drawing. I forgot how good it makes me feel, how accomplished. This is freedom.

I am now revising my winter plans. From this point on, if I have it my way, I want to only stay here and do the same thing all day. If you love me at all, do not ask me to do anything else. If you hate me at all, just try to stop me. Then I will laugh in your face when you fail and I am worth billions.

I am exhausted and stuffed (see continuous feeding Dec. 24 from 4:20pm-12:45am; Dec. 25 3:00pm-now?) and high on life, drunk on smoked salmon, coked-out on hairspray. All in all, this leaves me with the insane desire to do something crazy; thankfully my greatest insanity at the moment begs for clear pencil lines.

Can we just kiss already and get it over with?

Day 101

A warning sign. I missed the good part, then I realized...I, uh, I started looking and the bubble burst. I started looking for excuses.

I am on the brink of something. It is a big something. My fingers are poised and I know something is about to explode out that I was never expecting because how could I possibly when I did not even know it was there?

Come on in! I've got to tell you what a state I'm in. I've got to tell you in my loudest tones.

When I am about to write - as I have just realized by observing my hands and the way they arch over the keys - my fingers feel the keys, and then take off. It reminds me of watching wonderful piano players who get the feel and it suddenly all comes back to them. Maybe this is a good case for reincarnation.

I started looking for a warning sign.

I do not want to blog anymore. Thus, the warning sign. I'm in this bad. On one side I am forced to act like a 70-year-old because otherwise I will die; on the other, I am five. It is sucking the life out of me.

When the truth is, I miss you.

1. I want to sleep all the time.

Yeah, the truth.

2. Feeling would be nice. I would do a lot right now just to feel.

I miss you so.

3. I do not want to blog anymore.

A warning sign. You came back to haunt me and I realized you were an island and I passed you by; you were an island to discover.

It is so much from every side. There is no freedom here. FREEDOM. William Wallace, rescue me. Do not let me awake in years to come wishing I could come back to today and fight. Give me liberty, or death. There is no in between. <- Lie. This is the in between.

And I'm tired. I should not have let you go.

Why do you insist on torturing me? Maybe you do not see it that way, but I do. Where do you get off?! It is not...fair. I live in the realm of fair and die by it. Be fair. Give someone else a chance. Give me a chance to come up for air.

So. Yes, I crawl back. And I crawl back in. Yes. I crawl back into your open arms.

Am I More than You Bargained for Yet?

I

think I am finally in a place of accepting that it was not a mistake to come back to school this year.

have no desire to ever go to bed because as soon as I get in I never want to get out (and I want to be out).

love how things are constantly shifting.

am living in a constant state of trepidation over how this will all play out regarding my car and everything that goes with it.

thrill to think of how many people are actually in in my life this year and it gives me joy and hope.

do not yet know how I will spend my Christmas holidays, but I am not worried. No matter how I end up spending my time, the break will be worth it.

I am continuously nervous that I will just fall into one of those horrible situations that have plagued me the last few years. It's tiring to constantly be on the look-out for danger. I want the freedom of expression I have had when there is no fear. Ah, but that goes back to the whole passion dealio. I just sighed really big. Things will not get the better of me!

Starts with Goodbye

I hate all these stupid, sad blogs lately. I hate that they're what is pouring out of my heart, and that I have no control over any of it. Most of all, I hate that my time for grief is over and it's time to move on; sitting in my own misery is 100x easier than getting off my butt and changing things.

I have only a few weeks of freedom left, and I am using them, baby! I cannot stand to be this depressed, angry person anymore. I hide it well right now, (I think), but how long can that last? This is me breaking free and deciding that ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

These are the last words on the subject. Ever. I promise not you, my faithful readers, but myself. This is for me so that the last bits of healing can take place without the wounds being reopened by my own stupidity. So here they are:

There was no monumental, emotional goodbye. There was a chance meeting, a brief, puddle-deep chat, and a broken promise that doesn't matter anymore. And then nothing. So this is my goodbye. I don't know what the future holds or where our paths might cross again, but this is the end of the road for me, unless you change your mind. I refuse to cry over you ever again. You might not have wanted to say it, hear it or see it, but I need that closure, with or without you.

Goodbye.

"Sometimes moving on with the rest of your life starts with goodbye."