Unfortunately, Tommy was officially classified as "overweight" at his recent visit to the vet. (The other vet who saw him last year at the same office called him "big" but not fat. I think he's, uh, fluffier this year.) Thankfully, the doctor didn't prescribe any kind of diet. She says that canned food is supposed to be better for cats, so I'll feed him some more often, but not all the time. (Because when you take them to the vet to get their teeth cleaned, you'll get the lecture about dry food being better for their teeth.)
So, I'm decreasing his daily rations and keeping a much closer eye on the bowls, making sure he doesn't steal Tessie's food. (She can even out-eat him sometimes, but her petite body has more than enough metabolism to support it.) I gotta say, I'm kind of alarmed at his gluttonous nature. If I let him, he'll just eat and eat and eat and then, because his tummy can only hold so much, he'll puke it all up, and guess who gets to clean up after him? Sigh.
Maybe it's time to dig out his rolling food bowl from storage. Or maybe I should download music from the Flashdance soundtrack for cataerobics classes. Or maybe I should just tack up a Bible verse on the wall next to his food bowl: "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed..." (Luke 12:15)
Oh, wait a minute -- cats can't read. D'oh!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Wringer Chronicles, Volume IV
For some reason, almost every year around this time, I've noticed a sort of foggy funk in my life. I wonder if it's depression-related. I don't feel like I'm in despair or anything alarming like that -- there's just this sort of unspoken uncertainty that's hard to shake right away. Maybe it's triggered by people in my life (who are otherwise very significant) forgetting my birthday, or maybe it's these darn allergies. Whatever the reason, the transition from spring to summer is usually NOT my best time of year. (And it's good for me to at least be aware of it.)
I think it's been more pronounced since I've graduated from college. A friend of mine pointed out once that one reason why so many of us fall apart after we finish school is because suddenly our strict schedules are gone -- nobody is telling us when to be in class or when to do our homework or even what to do anymore. But I do remember feeling pretty blue after the school year would end while I was in college and my parents would drive me home for the summer -- where I was away from my friends and the extremely cool life I'd known for the other 9 months of the year.
One thing that doesn't help is that I've never really gelled well with outdoor summer activities. Swimming? never learned how to. Volleyball? I absolutely stink at it. Baseball? ha! base sports were never really kind to me. Picnics? barbecues are nice, but they usually only lead to the abovementioned activities. I usually enjoy racket sports like tennis or badminton, but it can be hard to find other people to play with. (Even while I was at the psychiatric hospital years ago, when the counselors took us all to the gymnasium, I went straight for the badminton rackets and convinced my roommate to play with me.) Overall, I'm not athletically inclined in the LEAST, so I find it very annoying anytime a so-called friend calls me a party pooper for not participating in outdoor summer activities. Oh, come on, you so-called friend. What's so bad about renting a movie? Are you afraid of getting lost in the aisles at Blockbuster? Oh, no. I'm drowning in movie genres...
So, the promise of summer isn't always an exciting thing for me. I still have to go to work, like most of America. I don't get to wake up at 8 a.m. and play Monopoly until 3:00 like I used to do with my sister when we were little kids. (Not counting breakfast and lunch breaks.)
And, thankfully, as I've gotten older, summertime has begun to mean more about developing relationships in general than just getting a bad sunburn under the volleyball net. As May oozes into June, your friends get vacation time, and they make time to see you. You get to budget more money for spontaneous hangouts and less for allergy medications. It's a beautiful thing.
So, after the foggy funk lifts, if you invite me to play water volleyball and I laugh hysterically, please don't take it personally. Please allow me to compose myself, apologize, and offer to meet you later at Starbucks or something. Oh, no. I'm drowning in mocha frappuccinos...
I think it's been more pronounced since I've graduated from college. A friend of mine pointed out once that one reason why so many of us fall apart after we finish school is because suddenly our strict schedules are gone -- nobody is telling us when to be in class or when to do our homework or even what to do anymore. But I do remember feeling pretty blue after the school year would end while I was in college and my parents would drive me home for the summer -- where I was away from my friends and the extremely cool life I'd known for the other 9 months of the year.
One thing that doesn't help is that I've never really gelled well with outdoor summer activities. Swimming? never learned how to. Volleyball? I absolutely stink at it. Baseball? ha! base sports were never really kind to me. Picnics? barbecues are nice, but they usually only lead to the abovementioned activities. I usually enjoy racket sports like tennis or badminton, but it can be hard to find other people to play with. (Even while I was at the psychiatric hospital years ago, when the counselors took us all to the gymnasium, I went straight for the badminton rackets and convinced my roommate to play with me.) Overall, I'm not athletically inclined in the LEAST, so I find it very annoying anytime a so-called friend calls me a party pooper for not participating in outdoor summer activities. Oh, come on, you so-called friend. What's so bad about renting a movie? Are you afraid of getting lost in the aisles at Blockbuster? Oh, no. I'm drowning in movie genres...
So, the promise of summer isn't always an exciting thing for me. I still have to go to work, like most of America. I don't get to wake up at 8 a.m. and play Monopoly until 3:00 like I used to do with my sister when we were little kids. (Not counting breakfast and lunch breaks.)
And, thankfully, as I've gotten older, summertime has begun to mean more about developing relationships in general than just getting a bad sunburn under the volleyball net. As May oozes into June, your friends get vacation time, and they make time to see you. You get to budget more money for spontaneous hangouts and less for allergy medications. It's a beautiful thing.
So, after the foggy funk lifts, if you invite me to play water volleyball and I laugh hysterically, please don't take it personally. Please allow me to compose myself, apologize, and offer to meet you later at Starbucks or something. Oh, no. I'm drowning in mocha frappuccinos...
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Is Survivor surviving?
From doing a bit of internet surfing, I gathered that Survivor -- which, in my opinion, is the greatest reality show of all time, the one that nearly all the other reality shows shamelessly copy from -- might only last for 20 seasons. And they just wrapped up their 18th. And I missed the finale!
A friend of mine got me hooked on the show in 2002 during Survivor: Thailand. It's a fairly simple, predictable format -- 2 "tribes" of otherwise perfect strangers coexist in fairly primitive conditions while they compete in "challenges" for "rewards" and "immunity" in order to keep from getting "voted off," and the last one remaining gets a million dollars. (See? I've just described nearly every other reality show out there.) Where it gets hairy is when the players form alliances with each other during the game and make promises to each other that they often have to break, and then they often take it personally later as they often explode at the end and make the final contestants cry. It's great television.
But maybe it's started to get a little old. Even my friend who introduced me to it has stopped watching. Maybe the format has gotten too predictable, no matter how many exciting twists they add to it, and maybe the contestants have gotten too boring, no matter how colorful they are. I've noticed that I haven't watched as religiously every week as I used to. Thursday nights have gotten kind of busy for me with errands, etc., and I've even slacked off on setting my VCR to tape episodes so I can watch them later. (And now Survivor's time slot even has to compete with Amy Poehler's hilarious new comedy on NBC at 7:30!)
A few years ago, I missed the finale of Survivor: Palau, the one where Tom won after competing with that tall dolphin-trainer guy, I think because of my crazy work schedule. And now I missed the finale of Survivor: Tocatins because this past Thursday night was grocery night, and I forgot to check online to see if the finale would air on the following Sunday, and I wasn't at home Sunday night because I was at a church meeting. I read online that J.T. won -- whoo-hoo! -- and I bookmarked a YouTube video of a segment of the finale so I could watch it later... But I haven't even gotten around to THAT yet. Man, what gives? The finale/reunion show is usually the best episode, and after it's all over, there's a hole in my Thursday nights.
But this Tuesday night, I noticed a different hole... now that the finale of The Biggest Loser is over and done with. And I was at home for that -- all 3 hours of it! And I watched almost every episode this season pretty religiously! And I'm not even on a weight-loss program!
So, what is it about this 2-hour show -- yes! a 2-hour show that airs on TUESDAYS! -- that appeals even to people like me who couldn't care less about counting calories or sweating in a gym? Maybe I didn't realize how much TV-worthy drama there was with people who are trying to shed pounds. Maybe I'm already used to the "immunity challenge" format. Maybe it's nice to watch a TV show where people's lives are changing right before your eyes, and there's less back-stabbing and more back-patting. Or maybe I just like to watch Jillian kick people's butts.
Whatever it is, Survivor sure tapped into something that made me -- a chick who has almost zero interest in camping or the outdoors -- a loyal fan from Survivor: Thailand until now. Well, I don't plan to stop watching just yet. I'll probably keep watching Survivor until the network finally votes it off the air.
But until then... Come on in, guys! Let's get to today's challenge. Wanna know what you're playing for? The title of Greatest Reality Show of All Time.
Yes, if I were on the jury, Survivor would have my vote to win.
A friend of mine got me hooked on the show in 2002 during Survivor: Thailand. It's a fairly simple, predictable format -- 2 "tribes" of otherwise perfect strangers coexist in fairly primitive conditions while they compete in "challenges" for "rewards" and "immunity" in order to keep from getting "voted off," and the last one remaining gets a million dollars. (See? I've just described nearly every other reality show out there.) Where it gets hairy is when the players form alliances with each other during the game and make promises to each other that they often have to break, and then they often take it personally later as they often explode at the end and make the final contestants cry. It's great television.
But maybe it's started to get a little old. Even my friend who introduced me to it has stopped watching. Maybe the format has gotten too predictable, no matter how many exciting twists they add to it, and maybe the contestants have gotten too boring, no matter how colorful they are. I've noticed that I haven't watched as religiously every week as I used to. Thursday nights have gotten kind of busy for me with errands, etc., and I've even slacked off on setting my VCR to tape episodes so I can watch them later. (And now Survivor's time slot even has to compete with Amy Poehler's hilarious new comedy on NBC at 7:30!)
A few years ago, I missed the finale of Survivor: Palau, the one where Tom won after competing with that tall dolphin-trainer guy, I think because of my crazy work schedule. And now I missed the finale of Survivor: Tocatins because this past Thursday night was grocery night, and I forgot to check online to see if the finale would air on the following Sunday, and I wasn't at home Sunday night because I was at a church meeting. I read online that J.T. won -- whoo-hoo! -- and I bookmarked a YouTube video of a segment of the finale so I could watch it later... But I haven't even gotten around to THAT yet. Man, what gives? The finale/reunion show is usually the best episode, and after it's all over, there's a hole in my Thursday nights.
But this Tuesday night, I noticed a different hole... now that the finale of The Biggest Loser is over and done with. And I was at home for that -- all 3 hours of it! And I watched almost every episode this season pretty religiously! And I'm not even on a weight-loss program!
So, what is it about this 2-hour show -- yes! a 2-hour show that airs on TUESDAYS! -- that appeals even to people like me who couldn't care less about counting calories or sweating in a gym? Maybe I didn't realize how much TV-worthy drama there was with people who are trying to shed pounds. Maybe I'm already used to the "immunity challenge" format. Maybe it's nice to watch a TV show where people's lives are changing right before your eyes, and there's less back-stabbing and more back-patting. Or maybe I just like to watch Jillian kick people's butts.
Whatever it is, Survivor sure tapped into something that made me -- a chick who has almost zero interest in camping or the outdoors -- a loyal fan from Survivor: Thailand until now. Well, I don't plan to stop watching just yet. I'll probably keep watching Survivor until the network finally votes it off the air.
But until then... Come on in, guys! Let's get to today's challenge. Wanna know what you're playing for? The title of Greatest Reality Show of All Time.
Yes, if I were on the jury, Survivor would have my vote to win.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
The Wringer Chronicles, Volume III
1) A pain in the neck
I never wondered where the phrase "a pain in the neck" came from until about a couple of weeks ago. Seasonal allergies flared up pretty bad, and after PND and a sore throat, I developed a cough. I think I have some powerful sinuses and lungs or something, because I can cough pretty darn hard. (About 10 years ago, after I developed a sharp, mysterious pain in my side, a doctor diagnosed me with "coughing so hard that I hurt myself.") Several days after my allergies went crazy, my neck started hurting. At first, it was like a crick right in the middle, but then it developed into a dull, sharp stiffness that made it painful to turn my head.
Checking my blind spot while driving was painful enough, but I discovered that I use my neck muscles for pretty much EVERYTHING else, too. Even while I was popping Motrin or Tylenol, sitting at a computer for 8 hours hurt. Reclining to watch TV or a movie hurt. Trying to sleep REALLY hurt, and I'd toss and turn until I applied some generic Ben-Gay, because I just couldn't get comfortable. The pain kind of shifted from one muscle group to the next until it finally went away altogether, Hallelujah. My cough hasn't gone away completely, because the rainy weather has kept allergens mixed around in the air, but I've noticed that I kind of smush my neck against my shoulders when I cough now so as to avoid additional injuries.
But I was struck at how near-paralyzing and constantly annoying it was to have a pain in the neck. I don't want to treat anyone to the point where they'd call me a pain in the neck. I was reminded about how in the Bible, after God set the Israelites free from slavery in Egypt and gave them some laws to follow and provided everything they needed, they stubbornly disobeyed Him. He called them a "stiff-necked" people -- I guess it's as if they had paralyzed themselves in their own stubbornness! I don't want to be stiff-necked with God. I want to be soft and pliable.
2) Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide!
I trim my cats' claws once a month. During April's claw-trimming, Tessie was cooperating just fine until I got to the last claw to be trimmed, which had grown so long and thick that it was practically fusing onto the paw-pad. She freaked out when I gripped the clippers around it. I spent nearly half an hour chasing her around the apartment. Her entire 7-pound being growled in rebellion as she angrily ran and hid from me. Finally, she disappeared under a chair in the living room. When I pulled the chair back, she was so stunned that I was able to grab her and trim away the layers that had grown so thickly around that little claw. You see, she thought she was safe hiding under that chair because I hadn't moved it since we've lived here.
May's claw-trimming wasn't as time-consuming because she surrendered right away. I think she learned that it's no use hiding from me. I'm her mama who loves her and wants what's best for her. (And I'm way bigger than she is.)
I hope I don't act as stubbornly as Tessie does sometimes. If God needs to trim away something in my life, I hope I don't resist and hide underneath something that I think is unmovable. He can move mountains. I should be able to let Him pull me out from under pride, unforgiveness, insecurity, or whatever my metaphorical living-room chair is.
I never wondered where the phrase "a pain in the neck" came from until about a couple of weeks ago. Seasonal allergies flared up pretty bad, and after PND and a sore throat, I developed a cough. I think I have some powerful sinuses and lungs or something, because I can cough pretty darn hard. (About 10 years ago, after I developed a sharp, mysterious pain in my side, a doctor diagnosed me with "coughing so hard that I hurt myself.") Several days after my allergies went crazy, my neck started hurting. At first, it was like a crick right in the middle, but then it developed into a dull, sharp stiffness that made it painful to turn my head.
Checking my blind spot while driving was painful enough, but I discovered that I use my neck muscles for pretty much EVERYTHING else, too. Even while I was popping Motrin or Tylenol, sitting at a computer for 8 hours hurt. Reclining to watch TV or a movie hurt. Trying to sleep REALLY hurt, and I'd toss and turn until I applied some generic Ben-Gay, because I just couldn't get comfortable. The pain kind of shifted from one muscle group to the next until it finally went away altogether, Hallelujah. My cough hasn't gone away completely, because the rainy weather has kept allergens mixed around in the air, but I've noticed that I kind of smush my neck against my shoulders when I cough now so as to avoid additional injuries.
But I was struck at how near-paralyzing and constantly annoying it was to have a pain in the neck. I don't want to treat anyone to the point where they'd call me a pain in the neck. I was reminded about how in the Bible, after God set the Israelites free from slavery in Egypt and gave them some laws to follow and provided everything they needed, they stubbornly disobeyed Him. He called them a "stiff-necked" people -- I guess it's as if they had paralyzed themselves in their own stubbornness! I don't want to be stiff-necked with God. I want to be soft and pliable.
2) Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide!
I trim my cats' claws once a month. During April's claw-trimming, Tessie was cooperating just fine until I got to the last claw to be trimmed, which had grown so long and thick that it was practically fusing onto the paw-pad. She freaked out when I gripped the clippers around it. I spent nearly half an hour chasing her around the apartment. Her entire 7-pound being growled in rebellion as she angrily ran and hid from me. Finally, she disappeared under a chair in the living room. When I pulled the chair back, she was so stunned that I was able to grab her and trim away the layers that had grown so thickly around that little claw. You see, she thought she was safe hiding under that chair because I hadn't moved it since we've lived here.
May's claw-trimming wasn't as time-consuming because she surrendered right away. I think she learned that it's no use hiding from me. I'm her mama who loves her and wants what's best for her. (And I'm way bigger than she is.)
I hope I don't act as stubbornly as Tessie does sometimes. If God needs to trim away something in my life, I hope I don't resist and hide underneath something that I think is unmovable. He can move mountains. I should be able to let Him pull me out from under pride, unforgiveness, insecurity, or whatever my metaphorical living-room chair is.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Reflections of the third decade, part VI
What a difference a decade makes!
Me at 23:
I am a very agreeable person who does what she's told and lets other people make decisions for her. (Most of time.) I believe that men are superior to women, and even if a male makes a strange decision, I'll submit to it with minimal complaining. I would rather bless people with my smile than be sincerely honest with my feelings (because that would be kinda selfish), even if it means that I'm dying on the inside.
I'm surrounded by people who believe in God and who believe in me. A bunch of my friends pitched in and bought me a used acoustic guitar. (I received it with extreme gratitude, dropping to my knees in awe.) I'm on the verge of a personal Renaissance that will include the composition of a couple dozen songs. I'm trying to sell a play that I finished writing the year before, but no one seems to want it. I'm optimistic, anyway, and I begin working on a second play and don't plan to stay at my day job for very long.
I earn minimum wage and am about to be promoted to a full-time position at $6.00 an hour. I don't have a car, but I live about a 15-minute walking distance from work. I've discovered the wonderful world of plastic money, so I eat fast food pretty frequently (even though I live within reasonable walking distance from a grocery store). I depend on my friends to give me rides to places (and every once in a while, someone will forget to pick me up).
I live alone and am totally blowing my chance to learn how to be an adult and take care of myself. My work schedule and social calendar are crazy and often unpredictable, but I still let my apartment get dirty and stay dirty, with piles of dishes molding in the sink that attract roaches. My bedroom furniture has piles of dirty clothes. People visit my apartment often, despite its unkempt condition, and sometimes my friends are extremely nice and wash my dishes. One friend even cleaned my entire place for me while I was at work one day. (In hindsight, I think I would have been better served if someone had just told me straight up, "I love you, but you live like a pig, and I won't come over anymore or give you any more rides until you clean house.")
I don't own any pets, but I decide that I like cats after a couple of the neighbors' kitties come to my door a few times and I feed them and give them a brief tour of my apartment (separately). One of them especially is very friendly and likes to climb on me and sniff my face. I decide that if I ever own a cat, I'd like a friendly one like that.
When I'm at church, I spend a lot of time weeping over my childhood. I don't really know how to let go, I worry almost constantly, and I'm very insecure. Yet I still smile. I believe that God is only happy with me when I love everybody, serve everybody, and let people walk all over me, because I'll be rewarded for it later. (Unfortunately, a really scary bout with depression -- when I'll become very angry with God and blame Him for all the crap in my life -- is just around the corner.)
Me at 33:
My personality is still mostly cheerful overall, but I'd rather be sincere than happy. I'm learning to not feel guilty for making my own decisions. Technically, wives are supposed to submit to their husbands, but hey, I'm not married yet. I do my best to submit to authority figures that God has put in my life, but if I feel like I'm being treated unfairly, I'll probably speak up. Sure, smiling can bless people, but I don't want to be a fake.
I spend a lot of time alone, but it's the season of life God has me in right now. I believe this is my time to write a novel, which I've dreamed of doing since I was a little girl playing on my parents' old typewriter. I've given up on being a playwright because my first play sucked and, well, it might be kinda hard to write good theater if I've never done any acting. I'm trying to find the balance between working at my craft and socializing, but overall, it's hard to write a novel if I spend all my spare time hanging out with people or talking to them on the phone. I still have my guitar, which is well-worn at the first 2 frets, and although I'm not the songwriting machine I used to be, I still have ideas floating through my head. I'm more into quality than quantity.
My day job pays enough money to make a monthly car payment. Other than that, I avoid debt like the plague and hope to finally pay off my old credit card balance this year. I try to save fast food for special occasions. I depend on God for money to pay bills, and I work hard at my job and even volunteer to work overtime.
I live alone again, but I make my bed every morning and empty the litterbox nightly; once a week, I do 2 loads of laundry and vacuum -- these household chores usually happen automatically. There are no piles of clothes in my bedroom. I'm still learning to incorporate the rest of the chores into my routine, i.e., dusting and dishes (the latter is my least favorite!), but I'm content with my progress. I've discovered pre-moistened wipes -- Lysol and Pledge -- which are beautiful. I don't invite anybody over unless my place is decent (or sanitary) enough for company.
One of my two cats is even friendlier than the one I met a decade ago. (She was snuggling and purring on my desk while I was writing part of this.)
When I'm at church, I usually cry during communion, when I'm reminded that Jesus died so I could be part of His family. (And I pretty much cry whenever I think about how faithful God has been to me.) Slowly but surely, I've let Him teach me how to be still and find my security in Him. I'm a much more confident person, and I'm nobody's doormat. I've learned that there's a difference between loving people and letting them take advantage of you. I've learned how to be assertive, and I'm not afraid of offending people or offering my opinion anymore, even to the point where I have to be reminded to be gentle and kind to people. When I say or do the wrong thing, I appreciate it when people call me on it so I can apologize and make it right. I know that nothing can separate me from God's love, and depression is no longer welcome in my life (I know how to deal with it now).
Whew! I'm thankful that God hasn't given up on me. :)
Me at 23:
I am a very agreeable person who does what she's told and lets other people make decisions for her. (Most of time.) I believe that men are superior to women, and even if a male makes a strange decision, I'll submit to it with minimal complaining. I would rather bless people with my smile than be sincerely honest with my feelings (because that would be kinda selfish), even if it means that I'm dying on the inside.
I'm surrounded by people who believe in God and who believe in me. A bunch of my friends pitched in and bought me a used acoustic guitar. (I received it with extreme gratitude, dropping to my knees in awe.) I'm on the verge of a personal Renaissance that will include the composition of a couple dozen songs. I'm trying to sell a play that I finished writing the year before, but no one seems to want it. I'm optimistic, anyway, and I begin working on a second play and don't plan to stay at my day job for very long.
I earn minimum wage and am about to be promoted to a full-time position at $6.00 an hour. I don't have a car, but I live about a 15-minute walking distance from work. I've discovered the wonderful world of plastic money, so I eat fast food pretty frequently (even though I live within reasonable walking distance from a grocery store). I depend on my friends to give me rides to places (and every once in a while, someone will forget to pick me up).
I live alone and am totally blowing my chance to learn how to be an adult and take care of myself. My work schedule and social calendar are crazy and often unpredictable, but I still let my apartment get dirty and stay dirty, with piles of dishes molding in the sink that attract roaches. My bedroom furniture has piles of dirty clothes. People visit my apartment often, despite its unkempt condition, and sometimes my friends are extremely nice and wash my dishes. One friend even cleaned my entire place for me while I was at work one day. (In hindsight, I think I would have been better served if someone had just told me straight up, "I love you, but you live like a pig, and I won't come over anymore or give you any more rides until you clean house.")
I don't own any pets, but I decide that I like cats after a couple of the neighbors' kitties come to my door a few times and I feed them and give them a brief tour of my apartment (separately). One of them especially is very friendly and likes to climb on me and sniff my face. I decide that if I ever own a cat, I'd like a friendly one like that.
When I'm at church, I spend a lot of time weeping over my childhood. I don't really know how to let go, I worry almost constantly, and I'm very insecure. Yet I still smile. I believe that God is only happy with me when I love everybody, serve everybody, and let people walk all over me, because I'll be rewarded for it later. (Unfortunately, a really scary bout with depression -- when I'll become very angry with God and blame Him for all the crap in my life -- is just around the corner.)
Me at 33:
My personality is still mostly cheerful overall, but I'd rather be sincere than happy. I'm learning to not feel guilty for making my own decisions. Technically, wives are supposed to submit to their husbands, but hey, I'm not married yet. I do my best to submit to authority figures that God has put in my life, but if I feel like I'm being treated unfairly, I'll probably speak up. Sure, smiling can bless people, but I don't want to be a fake.
I spend a lot of time alone, but it's the season of life God has me in right now. I believe this is my time to write a novel, which I've dreamed of doing since I was a little girl playing on my parents' old typewriter. I've given up on being a playwright because my first play sucked and, well, it might be kinda hard to write good theater if I've never done any acting. I'm trying to find the balance between working at my craft and socializing, but overall, it's hard to write a novel if I spend all my spare time hanging out with people or talking to them on the phone. I still have my guitar, which is well-worn at the first 2 frets, and although I'm not the songwriting machine I used to be, I still have ideas floating through my head. I'm more into quality than quantity.
My day job pays enough money to make a monthly car payment. Other than that, I avoid debt like the plague and hope to finally pay off my old credit card balance this year. I try to save fast food for special occasions. I depend on God for money to pay bills, and I work hard at my job and even volunteer to work overtime.
I live alone again, but I make my bed every morning and empty the litterbox nightly; once a week, I do 2 loads of laundry and vacuum -- these household chores usually happen automatically. There are no piles of clothes in my bedroom. I'm still learning to incorporate the rest of the chores into my routine, i.e., dusting and dishes (the latter is my least favorite!), but I'm content with my progress. I've discovered pre-moistened wipes -- Lysol and Pledge -- which are beautiful. I don't invite anybody over unless my place is decent (or sanitary) enough for company.
One of my two cats is even friendlier than the one I met a decade ago. (She was snuggling and purring on my desk while I was writing part of this.)
When I'm at church, I usually cry during communion, when I'm reminded that Jesus died so I could be part of His family. (And I pretty much cry whenever I think about how faithful God has been to me.) Slowly but surely, I've let Him teach me how to be still and find my security in Him. I'm a much more confident person, and I'm nobody's doormat. I've learned that there's a difference between loving people and letting them take advantage of you. I've learned how to be assertive, and I'm not afraid of offending people or offering my opinion anymore, even to the point where I have to be reminded to be gentle and kind to people. When I say or do the wrong thing, I appreciate it when people call me on it so I can apologize and make it right. I know that nothing can separate me from God's love, and depression is no longer welcome in my life (I know how to deal with it now).
Whew! I'm thankful that God hasn't given up on me. :)
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