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So it's been a significant chunk o'time since I've written. That's a blogging no-no. That's how you lose all your friends and get sent to the corner to put your nose in the circle on the wall. Or the Internet equivalent.
I'm not sure why, but I've all but disappeared from my computer altogether for the past month (not so much the phone, though. Fb has seen plenty of me. Don't be jealous). Ok, I have a few possible reasons why...
I've been working (BIG GIRL JOB! BIG GIRL JOB!), which I'm loving like I thought I'd never love work. It's been interesting trying to figure out how time should be spent since school isn't demanding 30+ hours of my conscious (sometimes forced to be conscious) week. Granted, this job requires a good chunk of my time, but it sure does feel different when it's fun and you're getting paid to do it. My free time really does feel FREE!
On that note, I have started watching the show Brothers and Sisters on Netflix instant watch. I haven't ever been much of a tv show person, but I'll be doggone if I haven't gone and gotten myself legitimately hooked on this one. It takes me back to my Sims years in jr high when I had to set a timer above the computer or else I'd never leave the computer... But I hate feeling like I've wasted my precious free time in front of a screen.
Which leads me to exciting point number 3! I'm trying desperately to get back into reading. I love reading. At least, I used to. I would spend hours and hours lost in a good book, and it was AMAZING. Then school swooped in and took away all that time. And I made friends (*pushes glasses up nose*). My flippin amazing roommates (2 of them participating, but #3 is amazing too) and I are doing a spring and summer reading program, complete with stickers and incentives. We made posters, so every time we read a book, we add a sticker to the poster. I made a big pretty tree, and every time I read a book, I put a bird in the tree. I did that basically because I wanted it to not look too terribly silly if there were only 3 birds in the tree by the end of the summer (WHICH IS NOT GOING TO BE THE CASE. I'm determined).
Also, I'm dating a super amazing fella. And he's fun to hang out with. So I do.
Jared, earmuffs.
Other readers, this is the sweetest man I think I've ever met. If you're a dear friend who lives far away and cares about my heart, fear not--it's in the best hands you could ever hope for. Seriously. Don't get me started cuz I'll gush on and on about it for way too long :)
Ok, Jared, earmuffs off.
All that to say, I've kept myself quite busy, in productive or not so productive ways, which meant that I didn't holla at my blog for a significant chunk of time. I sorry. But I'm thrilled to report that life after graduation is amazing, work is way better than writing papers, Brothers and Sisters is a pretty darn good show about a big dysfunctional family, I'm slowly but surely re-learning to read for me, and God has 100% blessed me beyond belief in ALL aspects of my life. Even/especially the little tough spots :)
*teaser* Stay tuned for a post about a return to India!
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
The "Dream Home" File
I'm letting you in. This means we're REALLY good friends. I mean, you already know too much, but I'm now going to show you the deep recesses of...
... the "Dream Home" file on my computer.
Get excited.
The reason I started using Google Reader was to be constantly bombarded with words and images that inspire me and make me drool on my keyboard a little. Recipes, sociological thoughts, blogs of family/friends/strangers, and pictures. Beautiful beautiful images. Some of which are save-worthy. Behold.
Books and cubbies tickle my fancy. So do secret passageways. And bookshelf doors...
I also dream of having a bed and breakfast with a morning and an afternoon tea time. With a random assortment of teacups, and maybe even teapots.
Some aren't really functional, but are beautiful nonetheless.
Some are both lovely AND functional. These are far more realistic.
Books. And books. And those ladders at bookstores. But in my home.
I love wide open, naturally lit spaces. And wood. And bicycles. And maybe even bare old fashioned lightbulbs.
Just some thoughts. I also love the idea of a big fireplace. And a writing nook.
Admit it. It's fun to imagine :)
... the "Dream Home" file on my computer.
Get excited.
The reason I started using Google Reader was to be constantly bombarded with words and images that inspire me and make me drool on my keyboard a little. Recipes, sociological thoughts, blogs of family/friends/strangers, and pictures. Beautiful beautiful images. Some of which are save-worthy. Behold.
Books and cubbies tickle my fancy. So do secret passageways. And bookshelf doors...
I also dream of having a bed and breakfast with a morning and an afternoon tea time. With a random assortment of teacups, and maybe even teapots.
Some aren't really functional, but are beautiful nonetheless.
Some are both lovely AND functional. These are far more realistic.
Books. And books. And those ladders at bookstores. But in my home.
Just some thoughts. I also love the idea of a big fireplace. And a writing nook.
Admit it. It's fun to imagine :)
Friday, April 1, 2011
The Shame of Purity - A Dirty Lie
(I wrote this after we had a guest speaker at church. I needed to respond to it, because it hit me in such a big way. I loved writing it, and I realized that all those times I said I hated writing in college, it was because I was forced to. Maybe the 153 blog posts should have given it away, but I don't hate writing at all! What a fun and relieving realization...)
Today at my church we had a speaker who basically came to help guide us as a church around the world of pop media. He covered movies, tv, advertising, and games. His name is Ted Baehr (that's a little about him and his "Movieguide" site--worth a look). His talk was very interesting (basically, vote with your dollar. If you like it when a hero is in line with your morals and you want to see more of that, be knowledgeable about films before you see them and encourage industry growth in that direction), but the talk itself is not what I need to talk out with you. It's the "take it home with you" aspect that hit a personal nerve.
I am incredibly blessed to have grown up in a Christian home, with parents who were involved in my life and encouraged good choices. Without their influence, I don't want to know where my sin nature would have taken me. As a kid I wasn't "forbidden" to see things. I was knowledgeably discouraged from watching certain things, but I didn't anxiously await the moment that I was out from their grasp so that I could partake of the forbidden fruit. Why? Because 1) they discouraged certain themes, rather than just discouraging specific shows or movies, 2) they explained why they discouraged what they did, and 3) I knew that they loved me and they were protecting me from things I probably didn't want to see in the first place. This, in my opinion, is brilliant parenting. Granted, folks, I've always been one who desperately sought to follow the rules and receive praise for being "good." There are kids who are rebellious from the moment of birth, and I realize that we are just wired differently. I still hold that all this applies, even if it doesn't look the same in post-processing.
This upbringing meant that I grew up knowing who the Power Rangers were, but I never watched the show. I watched Mr. Rogers (but really I only liked the part when they went into the magical land, or when the guest was a performer). I loved movies like The Wizard of Oz (over and over and over again) and The Little Mermaid. I was still the target audience of Disney movies, Nickelodeon, and ABC Family (which was then actually family friendly) when I was in my teens. My parents knew what I was watching, and that made me feel safe. If my dad was watching a movie and something inappropriate for me to see came on, he would change the channel, look at me and tell me why he did that ("That was not a nice word he was using. We don't say things like that." "They were about to get in a big fight and it's not something you should see." "You don't wanna see all that kissing. That's gross and boys have cooties and you should never go near one ever. Ever, Cole.") That was so important to me, and it stuck with me.
It stuck with me, for better AND for worse. In elementary, jr. high, high school, AND college, I was teased for being naive. I didn't know about salacious topics that my 3rd grade classmates were talking about (not kidding on that one, folks). My most embarrassing story (and a textbook case of bullying the nerdy girl) happened in 6th grade when I didn't know what a sexual term meant, and a classmate heckled me until I had to fess up to my ignorance. I was the college girl who was perceived to be "pure as the driven snow"--a direct quote that a boy used in a derogatory fashion about me. Every time something like that happened, I hated how little I knew about the vulgar, perverse, salacious side of the world. I hated how shielded I was from what everyone else was clearly well-versed in. I saw my naïveté as something to hide, resent, and fight against.
But since when is purity and innocence something to be ashamed of?
No matter how I fought against it, my conscience (encouraged by my upbringing and my growing faith in the Lord) kept whispering to me, "Cole, you may be uncomfortable in this situation, but ultimately innocence is of greater value than your temporary ease in an unimportant social interaction."
Sometimes I could not for the life of me see the truth in that idea, and I read that Cosmo, watched that movie, listened to that girl's story, read that book, and kissed that guy. I sat on whatever guilt emerged and told it that whatever I'd learned was necessary for my social survival. As I got older and learned about more of the "bad" to counteract my upbringing of "good," I did survive in those social interactions. I could talk like all the other girls, even if I hadn't the actual experience that they had (and now I wonder if they were just like me, struggling to display a lifestyle that they didn't lead just for social gratification). I could emerge on the other side of a provocative conversation looking like I was still a "good" girl, but not too good to fit in.
So now I'm a college graduate. I'm 21. I have a job (woo!). I'm an adult (albeit a young one). I've been making my own choices for a long while now. And I have Netflix. I watch whatever movies I want! Sometimes I feel like Singing In the Rain, but sometimes I try watching something more along the lines of That Old Feeling, a goofy comedy starring Bette Midler, or Dorian Gray, the film version of the classic Oscar Wilde novel, or maybe I'll watch an episode of The Tudors, about the history and scandals of Henry VIII.
My conscience is still whispering to me about those movies and shows, though. I keep telling myself that old lie that I'm just uncomfortable watching this because of that ridiculous naive thing that I should still be battling against. This movie has this or that actor in it, or this show is appealing for this or that intellectual reason. But after Dr. Baehr's talk, I turned to my conscience, that same quiet voice that hated That Old Feeling, a comedy that romanticizes infidelity and divorce, the whisper that felt ill at Dorian Gray, which is, in its entirety, all about the salacious and vulgar elements of the world, the voice that quietly ended any interest in The Tudors, the overly sexual show that dresses itself up like a history lesson, much like an inappropriate Halloween costume from last year, and I said sheepishly to my conscience, "Thank you. And you're right."
The truth is, still, that ultimately innocence is of greater value than any worldly entertainment to be drawn from movies or shows like that. Or books or games or even conversations like that. And whether I like to admit it or not (I don’t), I am affected by being exposed to that material. We all are. Some definitely more than others. I didn’t grow up becoming more and more desensitized by sex, violence, drug use, or other unpleasantries. I was guarded from that, at least to some substantial degree, and I wish that everyone in the world had been or could be completely protected from that trash.
In the same breath, though, I must warn that a side effect of being rightfully guarded from bad is the reaction to it that surely must come when the inevitable intersection occurs when the guarded meets exactly what she was being guarded against. Proof that I am as naïve as I pretend not to be is the lasting discomfort that I feel (that I want so desperately to ignore) when I do meet up with situations of perversity. If I was not so inexperienced, surely it wouldn’t concern me, and so admitting the effect is embracing the naïveté, the disgrace that I’ve fought against my whole life! Oh, what turmoil, then, to subject myself to the categorization of “goody too shoes,” the blasted greenness—just imagine the heckling!
Wait…
Where are the hecklers?
She’s me. My own habit of avoiding innocence is the only thing preventing me from embracing it, for no one and nothing but that habit would now begrudge me of it. What a gut-punch of a realization. As an adult, I’m now comfortable embracing myself for who I am, primarily who I am in Christ! What’s more, my love for Him has made me clean, pure, white, and blameless, like new. I’ve embraced that stiffly for so long—glad for it, but bracing myself against my own training that all of those beautiful qualities are something to hide and be a little ashamed of. Embraced it, yes, because it truly is important to me—I value relationship purity for a reason, I fight for the safety and innocence of children for a reason—but begrudgingly because of the little travel-sized idol that I made way back in elementary school and carried with me through college—the idol of social acceptance.
I declare that now that idol is dead to me. I destroy it. I embrace the purity that Christ has given me, and I will just have to retrain myself by the power of the Holy Spirit to re-value my own innocence in the same way that I value it in others. I am never so tainted that my Father will not love me and clean me, like a loving father would always clean his child who falls in the mud, but I am now going to walk like a child who appreciates that cleanliness and try to avoid the mudpuddles.
(written on 3/27/11)
Today at my church we had a speaker who basically came to help guide us as a church around the world of pop media. He covered movies, tv, advertising, and games. His name is Ted Baehr (that's a little about him and his "Movieguide" site--worth a look). His talk was very interesting (basically, vote with your dollar. If you like it when a hero is in line with your morals and you want to see more of that, be knowledgeable about films before you see them and encourage industry growth in that direction), but the talk itself is not what I need to talk out with you. It's the "take it home with you" aspect that hit a personal nerve.
I am incredibly blessed to have grown up in a Christian home, with parents who were involved in my life and encouraged good choices. Without their influence, I don't want to know where my sin nature would have taken me. As a kid I wasn't "forbidden" to see things. I was knowledgeably discouraged from watching certain things, but I didn't anxiously await the moment that I was out from their grasp so that I could partake of the forbidden fruit. Why? Because 1) they discouraged certain themes, rather than just discouraging specific shows or movies, 2) they explained why they discouraged what they did, and 3) I knew that they loved me and they were protecting me from things I probably didn't want to see in the first place. This, in my opinion, is brilliant parenting. Granted, folks, I've always been one who desperately sought to follow the rules and receive praise for being "good." There are kids who are rebellious from the moment of birth, and I realize that we are just wired differently. I still hold that all this applies, even if it doesn't look the same in post-processing.
This upbringing meant that I grew up knowing who the Power Rangers were, but I never watched the show. I watched Mr. Rogers (but really I only liked the part when they went into the magical land, or when the guest was a performer). I loved movies like The Wizard of Oz (over and over and over again) and The Little Mermaid. I was still the target audience of Disney movies, Nickelodeon, and ABC Family (which was then actually family friendly) when I was in my teens. My parents knew what I was watching, and that made me feel safe. If my dad was watching a movie and something inappropriate for me to see came on, he would change the channel, look at me and tell me why he did that ("That was not a nice word he was using. We don't say things like that." "They were about to get in a big fight and it's not something you should see." "You don't wanna see all that kissing. That's gross and boys have cooties and you should never go near one ever. Ever, Cole.") That was so important to me, and it stuck with me.
It stuck with me, for better AND for worse. In elementary, jr. high, high school, AND college, I was teased for being naive. I didn't know about salacious topics that my 3rd grade classmates were talking about (not kidding on that one, folks). My most embarrassing story (and a textbook case of bullying the nerdy girl) happened in 6th grade when I didn't know what a sexual term meant, and a classmate heckled me until I had to fess up to my ignorance. I was the college girl who was perceived to be "pure as the driven snow"--a direct quote that a boy used in a derogatory fashion about me. Every time something like that happened, I hated how little I knew about the vulgar, perverse, salacious side of the world. I hated how shielded I was from what everyone else was clearly well-versed in. I saw my naïveté as something to hide, resent, and fight against.
But since when is purity and innocence something to be ashamed of?
No matter how I fought against it, my conscience (encouraged by my upbringing and my growing faith in the Lord) kept whispering to me, "Cole, you may be uncomfortable in this situation, but ultimately innocence is of greater value than your temporary ease in an unimportant social interaction."
Sometimes I could not for the life of me see the truth in that idea, and I read that Cosmo, watched that movie, listened to that girl's story, read that book, and kissed that guy. I sat on whatever guilt emerged and told it that whatever I'd learned was necessary for my social survival. As I got older and learned about more of the "bad" to counteract my upbringing of "good," I did survive in those social interactions. I could talk like all the other girls, even if I hadn't the actual experience that they had (and now I wonder if they were just like me, struggling to display a lifestyle that they didn't lead just for social gratification). I could emerge on the other side of a provocative conversation looking like I was still a "good" girl, but not too good to fit in.
So now I'm a college graduate. I'm 21. I have a job (woo!). I'm an adult (albeit a young one). I've been making my own choices for a long while now. And I have Netflix. I watch whatever movies I want! Sometimes I feel like Singing In the Rain, but sometimes I try watching something more along the lines of That Old Feeling, a goofy comedy starring Bette Midler, or Dorian Gray, the film version of the classic Oscar Wilde novel, or maybe I'll watch an episode of The Tudors, about the history and scandals of Henry VIII.
My conscience is still whispering to me about those movies and shows, though. I keep telling myself that old lie that I'm just uncomfortable watching this because of that ridiculous naive thing that I should still be battling against. This movie has this or that actor in it, or this show is appealing for this or that intellectual reason. But after Dr. Baehr's talk, I turned to my conscience, that same quiet voice that hated That Old Feeling, a comedy that romanticizes infidelity and divorce, the whisper that felt ill at Dorian Gray, which is, in its entirety, all about the salacious and vulgar elements of the world, the voice that quietly ended any interest in The Tudors, the overly sexual show that dresses itself up like a history lesson, much like an inappropriate Halloween costume from last year, and I said sheepishly to my conscience, "Thank you. And you're right."
The truth is, still, that ultimately innocence is of greater value than any worldly entertainment to be drawn from movies or shows like that. Or books or games or even conversations like that. And whether I like to admit it or not (I don’t), I am affected by being exposed to that material. We all are. Some definitely more than others. I didn’t grow up becoming more and more desensitized by sex, violence, drug use, or other unpleasantries. I was guarded from that, at least to some substantial degree, and I wish that everyone in the world had been or could be completely protected from that trash.
In the same breath, though, I must warn that a side effect of being rightfully guarded from bad is the reaction to it that surely must come when the inevitable intersection occurs when the guarded meets exactly what she was being guarded against. Proof that I am as naïve as I pretend not to be is the lasting discomfort that I feel (that I want so desperately to ignore) when I do meet up with situations of perversity. If I was not so inexperienced, surely it wouldn’t concern me, and so admitting the effect is embracing the naïveté, the disgrace that I’ve fought against my whole life! Oh, what turmoil, then, to subject myself to the categorization of “goody too shoes,” the blasted greenness—just imagine the heckling!
Wait…
Where are the hecklers?
She’s me. My own habit of avoiding innocence is the only thing preventing me from embracing it, for no one and nothing but that habit would now begrudge me of it. What a gut-punch of a realization. As an adult, I’m now comfortable embracing myself for who I am, primarily who I am in Christ! What’s more, my love for Him has made me clean, pure, white, and blameless, like new. I’ve embraced that stiffly for so long—glad for it, but bracing myself against my own training that all of those beautiful qualities are something to hide and be a little ashamed of. Embraced it, yes, because it truly is important to me—I value relationship purity for a reason, I fight for the safety and innocence of children for a reason—but begrudgingly because of the little travel-sized idol that I made way back in elementary school and carried with me through college—the idol of social acceptance.
I declare that now that idol is dead to me. I destroy it. I embrace the purity that Christ has given me, and I will just have to retrain myself by the power of the Holy Spirit to re-value my own innocence in the same way that I value it in others. I am never so tainted that my Father will not love me and clean me, like a loving father would always clean his child who falls in the mud, but I am now going to walk like a child who appreciates that cleanliness and try to avoid the mudpuddles.
(written on 3/27/11)
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