Mei-
To be completely irreverent about the whole thing: Nathan and I are splitsville.
So, as any girl, poet, or immature child would do, I’m going to write about it.
Actually, I wrote this a while ago. But it fits.
—
Mei-
When all is said and done
we’ll call this mutual—
…………too many months of doors slamming,
crying, cold-shoulders, cursing, withholding
…………true feelings and touching
–but it’s anything but mutual.
You promised me forever,
as if you had that kind of power.
But I took you at your word.
November 10, 2011 Leave a comment
Hope has fluxed us
I wrote this poem based on a drawing by my friend Jeff Beaver.
—
Hope has fluxed us
I’ve retraced my steps a thousand times
but still I don’t remember
……………………….what happened—
…………..where she went, where I went, how
…………..we separated, why we’re not together
………………………..when we should be.
…………………………………..Or should we be?
I met her at the costume party. She dressed as a first-class
…………..pirate—so she told me through sips of wine the color of her lips—
………………………..speech slurred—
………………………..the most delicate pirate I’d ever met.
…………..She said I looked beautiful.
………………………. So was she.
You introduced me to vices.
You lit my first cigarette. You were the first…….to touch me.
Does she remember the first time we—
…………..in the room with the green-striped couch with the windows…….open?
I heard robins chirping—“how cliché!” she laughed.
………………………How could I forget that laugh?
Does she remember the last time we
…………..saw each other? She stood across a room …….of strangers,
…………..mutual friends—Does she see me? Does she see me?—
………………………..Her brown eyes caught mine—a nod.
…………………………………….That was that.
I wonder about tomorrow. That letter I wrote—
…………..that lie I told myself. …..She’ll respond.
…………..I imagine which words she’ll choose—
…………..like—love—forever—someday—always—
………………………………………………………………never-again.
Hope—that song she sang, the birds, the open window—
………….has found us. Hope—I tell myself, locked away—has fucked us.
We’re in transit. We’re…….in flux—
……………………………………………………………….maybe—forever.
November 6, 2011 Leave a comment
“Everything Trying” by Damien Jurado
I’d call you now to tell you I’m thinking of you
But it does me no good when the phone is just blocking my view
And I would sail back to you
And I would sail back to you
And I would come back and admit that it wasn’t your fault
But I’m tired and unwilling to be the only one who was wrong
And I would sail back to you
And I would sail back to you
And I would sail back to you
I’ll be sailing on your deep blue eyes…
October 13, 2011 Leave a comment
5 Things I Know About Myself Now, That I Didn’t Know 2 Weeks Ago
Okay, I haven’t been frank on a blog post in for-ev-er. So, here it goes: Nathan and I are on a break. You don’t need to know much more. God willing, everything will be okay. (Hint: everything will be okay.)
—
With this extra time I’ve had on my hands (being half-stag, I guess), I’ve been learning a lot about myself. It’s been really great, and really crappy at the same time. So. Let’s talk through this.
This is Finn.
1. I love dogs. I don’t really love all dogs. Those who know me know I hate animals. Yeah, yeah, I don’t have a soul. But then I met Finn, my sister Sam’s dog. He’s the happiest, sweetest dog I’ve ever met. I baby-talk him. I tell him how much I love him. I kiss his furry head.
2. Indiana ain’t so bad. My dream, as many of you know, is to move out Northwest (Portland, Seattle, Bend, Vancouver, wherever!). But realistically, I know that’s not going to be possible. Unless I find a job. So. I think I may stay around Indiana for a while. I’m finally at peace with this idea. (So is my mom!)
3. Friends are great. So are friends of friends. I hate telling people my problems. Sure, I complain like the rest of us: school sucks, work sucks, I’m tired, I hate chapel … blah blah blah. But I really hate telling people about my real issues. I’ve had the opportunity to — and I’ve received so much love from my friends, and those aquainti-friends of mine. You all are great. (Here’s a special shout-out to my dear friend Jeremy who offers me cookies and Easy-Mac every day. Wu-hoo.)
4. I’ve never felt so close to God in my life. Truly, I haven’t. I give credit to distress and Brennan Manning. Both do a great job of leading me to the grace of God.
What’s funny is how few times I go to church, how few times I pay attention in chapel (I am reading Brennan Manning’s Ruthless Trust, however), and how few times I participate in Christian-functions at school. Instead, I’m spending time with God. I’m loving him through nature. I’m loving him through his grace. I’m just loving him. It’s very freeing. It’s making me into a better person in the process.
For weeks now I’ve been seeking God’s peace in all things. That’s all I want. I want to live like Jayber Crow, who lived with very little, and found peace with God even when life sucked. No more striving. No more trying to be a super-Christian. God loves me as I am right this very moment.
5. I like Lauren Deidra. I’ve struggled with self-hatred for years. I’ve hated myself for my weight, my prettiness or lack thereof, my sins, my failures. But. God loves me as I am in this moment. I am a fine girl. I am quirky and weird. I’m smart and ditzy. I like that about myself. Instead of trying to be someone I’m not (see that part about the super-Christian, or anything else), I want to just be me. Yay!
October 10, 2011 Leave a comment
No surprise.
“That it’s rough out there and chancy is no surprise. Every live thing is a survivor on a kind of extended emergency bivouac. But at the same time we are also created.” — Annie Dillard
October 10, 2011 Leave a comment
The God of 2009
I’ve come a long way since 2009.
Back then I was so full of doubt — good doubt, I still believe, but doubt nonetheless. Because of certain circumstances I let myself believe that God was a rude realist, and not a romantic. Because of that belief I lost a part of myself.
I believe that God is the great romancer. He delights in me. He wants what’s best for me, even when life seems to be heading in a horrible direction.
I wrote this back in 2009. I love to read it, because at the time it seemed so true. It was true to my heart, but it’s not true anymore.
—
I used to believe God was a romantic. I used to think that we had similar hearts – that he and I yearned for the same things: for romance, beauty, poetry. But I don’t think that’s true anymore.
I think he’s a realist. He lets the laws of nature do their thing. He lets me fall on my face to understand gravity. He lets me get my heart broken. I don’t think this makes him smile. He doesn’t get his ya-yas from my pain, but I don’t think he’s the God I thought he was five years ago. I think I believe in an Adult God. I believe in a God that society approves of.
I miss the Romantic God. I miss the God who will help find me a husband. I miss the God that understands why I read the books I do, why I listen to a specific Regina Spektor song when I’m sad, why I give crushes nicknames or write letters when I’m emotional. I miss the God that loves my handwriting and rereads my journals to see how much I’ve matured. I miss the God I dance to in my undies and talk to in the shower. I miss the God who thinks I’m thin enough, warns me not to overindulge on junk when I’m depressed, but tells me how pretty I am, even when I gain 20 pounds. I miss the God I cry to on the way home from college with the radio turned off and highway empty of other cars. I miss the God that lets me dream. I miss the God who wants those dreams to come true. I miss believing that God has a plan I can look forward to. I wish I still believed in him.
When I was a child I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child, I dreamed like a child, but when I became an effing “mature Christian,” I put all that bullshit behind me and believed what seems reasonable and acceptable to all the other stiff-necked Christian adults around me.
I hate this.
October 8, 2011 Leave a comment
Dreams, and whatnot
I was watching last season’s finale of Glee, when Shuester goes to Broadway to audition for April’s play.
Anyway, I was thinking about his circumstances. He could either sing on Broadway (his dream!) or go back to Lima, Ohio, to lead the glee club.
At first I thought, “Well, duh. If I had a chance to make my dreams come true, I’d follow my dreams. Sorry, kiddos.”
But then I thought, “Is it really worth it?”
Because, well, is it?
Then I thought (all while Shue’s singing a song), “What would I willingly give up my dream for?”
A boy.
Or, a friend.
Or, my family.
And then I had a profound, yet a very obvious realization: The only thing really worth giving up your dreams for is RELATIONSHIP.
And I mean that. As someone who’s had so many dreams and ambitions in her 20-odd years, the only thing I know I could give up my dreams for would be someone I love.
I will live in Indiana for the ones I love. I will work dead-end jobs for the ones I love.
People, believe me, are more important that dreams.
October 4, 2011 Leave a comment
Aesthetic Moments
The aesthetic moment
lasts 15 minutes maybe
when my heart(your heart) harmonizes—–then it stops
and we’re back where we were before:
I’m picking at the broken button on your couch
and you’re plucking guitar strings,
playing playful melodies(not at all)
reminiscent of this moment.
—
I wrote and rewrote this poem start a million times. I kept adding stanzas and cutting them. I guess I’m not sure where it’s heading.
There’s a communication theory known as Relational Dialectics which says that relationships are always in flux. I’ve written about this theory before many times. It’s so true. My relationship with my mom, my sister, my boyfriend, and my best friends are always, always in flux–
Until they’re not. There’s something called an Aesthetic Moment when that tugging and pulling of the relationship ceases, and all seems right in the world.
It’s the first kiss. It’s sex. It’s laughing. It’s a deep conversation over coffee.
Aesthetic moments don’t last. They’re just moments. Sometimes they last a few minutes, sometimes for weeks. But when they end — it sucks.
Lauren
September 18, 2011 Leave a comment
Mammon
“But it is not the rich man only who is under the dominion of things; they too are slaves who, having no money, are unhappy from the lack of it.” – George MacDonald
—
I wrote this poem after having a conversation with Nathan about money. It’s easy to believe that the rich are the only people at risk of worshiping money. OR, it’s easy to say that all rich people do worship their money because they are rich. No, no, no. I believe what George MacDonald says: all people are at risk of worshiping what they have or what they don’t have but want.
If money guides your decisions more than God guides your decisions, then I say you have a problem. (And by you, I mean me. My name is Lauren, and the moneygod is a hard god to ignore.)
—
Mammon
Mammon is the god for rich
people, not us. We only have ten dollars
to spend on lunch
and dinner both, which is fine
if we can hit Wendy’s on the way home.
Don’t mind microwaving leftovers,
because the leftovers are stale,
at least compared to the fresh junior
bacon cheeseburger, small fry,
large Coke.
We sit in the front seat of your car
eating and planning
our futures in hundred dollar bills.
We decide perhaps tonight we can break the bank
a little on dinner, because it is a special day,
a holiday, a birthday, a day-day.
After all, we have
a reason to celebrate: we may not be rich,
but at least we’re good
with money.
July 31, 2011 Leave a comment
Happy Birthday, ADA!
Happy Birthday, Americans with Disabilities Act! Exactly 21 years ago today, you were passed, ensuring no disabled person be discriminated against. So, bring on the cake! Bring on the ice cream! Let’s celebrate!
I’ve been an intern with the League for the Blind and Disabled for almost three months now. I came in knowing nothing about disability awareness or rights — I just knew that if you have a handicap license plate you get to park closer to Walmart.
Did you know there was an Independent Living Movement, similar to the Civil Rights Movement? Do you even know what Independent Living implies? I didn’t for my first month at the League. I was working for something that I knew nothing about.
We at the League advocate for disabled people’s independence, for their opportunity to live life on their own, in their own homes, with their own jobs. That means we transcribe blind folks’ phone bills in Braille and give them talking clocks. It means we teach disabled folks to use canes and other adaptive equipment. That’s what independent living is all about: it’s not showing pity, it’s not turning the disabled into gods for crossing the street on their own. It’s about giving people the opportunity to live their lives.
—
Last week I spent most of my work day calling consumers who had gotten their phone bills in Braille. I called hundreds of people from all over the U.S. All of them were grateful for our services (literally, all of them). Some told me their stories, about people taking advantage of them for their age or disability.
By the end of the day I was irate. When people’s rights are violated, whenever they’re treated less than human, I can’t help but get worked up. How dare they!
As a result, I’m working on a poem about all the ways we categorize people, and how we try to disassociate ourselves with groups that make us uncomfortable. It’s not close to being done, but when it is, I’ll be sure to post it.
I do encourage you to keep your eyes open today and the rest of the week for results of ADA. Be glad when you see wheelchair ramps, handicap parking signs, and Braille ATMs. It means the government is doing its job. Ha!
July 26, 2011 Leave a comment