Bobby

Two roads diverged in the wood.  I didn’t know which to take so I sat down at that grassy fork, back to the red covered bridge and waited.  Waited for wisdom, for clarity, waited for Robert to show up.

I waited for one of the roads to look less wonderfully new or less devastatingly familiar than the other.

Waited for one of the roads to look less devastatingly new or less wonderfully familiar than the other.

I sat and I waited.  And I sit and wait there still.  At the boundary.  At the borderland.  At la frontera.  At the fork in the road.  At the choice.

I’ve been here once before.  I thought it was picturesque and I captured the moment on my film and on my heart and walked away.  Little did I know that life doesn’t let you walk away.  It brings you back in a circle to the question and the decision you were avoiding all along.

It’s not all bad at this crossroads.  Like I said, picturesque.  But I can’t stay here forever and I can’t run away again.

So I look, I observe, I capture, I write.  I stand for a while and then I sit again.  I’ve made this grass and gravel into quite a throne.  It has come down to this, like it always does.  A moment in time, a decision, a future.  It can get overwhelming if you let it, but I fear to let significance slip through my fingers.

I’m still here waiting and Robert, I wish you would come and give me some direction.  But I have to travel this road alone, don’t I?  At least for now.  At least in this.  There are a million branching rivers in front of me and I have to take these steps on my own.  Not lacking companionship, but gaining self.  I wonder who I’ll meet in the wood.  I guess I have to take a right or left before I can find out.

But I don’t know where to turn.  And it could make all the difference.

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Friday Night Lights

Who asks you to write a 3-5 page single spaced executive summary?

Thats like an extra 10 pages of writing…which is basically a whole new section on my capstone.  Ain’t nobody got time for that.  If you can’t be bothered to read my actual paper, why should I write an extra mini paper for you?  Especially one that is that long. I gave you a nice page overview.  If that’s not enough…well, go ahead and look how many fucks I give.  Boo.

The Twenty-Four Creed

I believe in red lipstick.  I believe in its transformative powers to lift your spirits and give you courage.  Red lipstick is the physical manifestation of the beauty that hides inside you.  Of course, lipstick comes in many shades.  And beware, believers who would judge a brother or sister for choosing a light pink or a deep maroon.  All shades are welcome in this body.

I believe in photography.  I believe in the grainy, underexposed moments captured on film.  Those images are captured souls.  No matter who or what leaves you, those photographs will be an eternal reminder of the messy, the beautiful, the eternal.

I believe in feminism.  My experience with the struggle to face the world on equal footing.  And I uphold your struggle to do the same, in whatever arena.  Lay down your swords, but fight your battles.  Never give up, and never let life douse your fire.  Your burning passion is our redemption.  We must believe that we can change the world.

I believe in music.  Jeremy Messersmith sings the liturgy and the Gin Blossoms play the offertory.  No  matter how cheap and overplayed or how beautifully obscure, music speaks in a language that you learned in your infancy and that you desperately need to remember.

I believe in novels.  In beautiful works of literature and in murder mysteries.  It is a spiritual practice to lose yourself in a story and we are all richer for our adventures deep within the bent and weary pages of a favourite book.

I reject envy and all his empty promises.  I reject the need for power and the drive to succeed at the expense of the other.  You have been baptized into individuality and symbiosis.  Reject the temptation to view life as a zero-sum game and learn to rejoice when your sister rejoices and weep with your weeping brother.

I believe, more than anything, in your right to choose.  I believe this life has been given to you and no one can take it away from you.  You deserve to be happy and you have a god given right to decide what that means.  You’ve been given yourself, and no one has a right to take that from you.

Have some faith.

April Fools

I wish it was a joke that I still haven’t heard back from my schools.  I won’t hear back from one of them, I know, until after I graduate.  And I have no positive reinforcement on any of my job applications.  On top of that, the majority of the jobs I’m applying for these days are things I don’t even want to do.

I don’t care about my resume.  Or rather, I’m tired of caring about my resume.  I’m tired of caring if it looks childish or if it convinces you, my prospective employers, that I’m a professional.  Its not that I’m not dedicated, passionate, or competent.  I am all those things and more.  If I do a job, I do it well.  I promise.  But please, don’t make me jump through these hoops and pretend I like pant suits in order to succeed.  Because then I start worrying about if I can succeed as me.  Or if I have to become a type-A, straight-laced, clean desk type of person in order to get a job, or even worse, to make a difference.

I want to succeed as myself.  That’s no excuse to slack off. But it’s no excuse to settle either.  What does it profit a man to gain the world but lose his soul?  I’m waiting for the right fit.  The place that feels like I’m diving in and pouring myself out for my work, but doing it on my terms.  But I’m running out of time.  I spent my whole childhood believing that God had a plan and was directing my life and if She could come through with that soon, that would be great.

What do I do?  Where do I look?  There is so much and so little at the same time.  And I find myself wasting time because I don’t know where to start.  I don’t want to be a coffee-shop member of my generation.  Not that there is anything wrong with that lifestyle if it is what you want, but its not what I want and I know I’d give into it so easily.  But I don’t want to just take a 9-5 white collar job either. I just want to live and I want space in my world for all 64 colours in my box of Crayolas.

And why do I even complain about this?  Its not like job offers from any side of the spectrum are pouring in?  Its fine.  But its not fine as well and I’m just ready to know.  I just want to be able to plan.  Because I feel so stuck right now.   Some more colorful word for purgatory.  Where accounting classes and information technology and government inefficiencies are supposed to cleanse my soul and make me ready for professional paradise.

Ugh.