That clip is from my one of my all-time favorite movies. More than anything I could write, it sums up my semester here. Less bitter and defiant on my part, though. Probably. God may disagree if you asked him.
Happy Friday the 13th, y'all.
Highlights from today?
ha. I don't even...where to start?
It ended?
That's not fair. I went and saw a movie tonight with Naomi and her boyfriend/not boyfriend/on and off boyfriend Craig. Frozen. It was just good, clean, sharp wit. Hilarious. Loved it. Then back to hers for gingerbread cookies and, of course, tea.
Got Indian food with Elaine this afternoon and brainstormed a wider band for one of my paper topics. I simply cannot write 5,000 words on an argument for bipolar disorder in Ulysses' Molly. Even if I could, I need a secondary text.
The new topic is "Trapped: The Gap Between Desire and Reality." It's over the juxtaposition between literal entrapment of Lois in her home in The Last September and Molly's bedriddenness. And how it relates to them both relationally, communicatively, and psychologically. An argument for depression in Lois and one for bipolar II in Molly.
A note on Elaine and Naomi.
Often I feel awkward around both.
However, Elaine and I need each other. And, in so many ways, we're experiencing the same kinds of things. Wanting to be known and connect and just have someone there, but not having "our person" there. And she and I have had an incredible amount of struggle--I remember telling a friend's mum earlier on in the semester that an act of God needed to happen in that relationship before it could be even tolerable--but the God who moves mountains deals also in hearts.
Over the past month or month and a half, she has been the one the Lord provided for me. She is not what I asked for or expected--our current church sermon series right now is "The Expected from the Unexpected." Could not be more true here.--but she has been here physically for me. That alone has flooded me with...I dunno...relief? Comfort? Humility? Thankfulness?
And Naomi. Such a lovely girl, but I am just so awkward around her for some reason. But she's also the kind of person I know cares after my aliveness. We don't have that "I must be your friend or will languish in eternal agony" like some of my other best friends and I, but she's loyal and pursues me. I know once every week or two I'll get a text asking for my schedule. A "when" not "if" no matter how busy she is.
So thank you, God.
I also had a wee chat with a guy in a coffee shop today over the existence of God (me and coffee, I swear). I wasn't up on my evangelistic game. However, I neither believe I was going to change his mind forever after it had been hardened right there and right then nor do I think that my sad answer was going to confirm his atheism. It was just good, friendly craic.
He asked me what evidence I had to believe in God.
My answer was something to the effect of my very continued life, that sometimes, you just need to believe in God because that's the only answer you have.
It isn't kosher (I would know. ex-Jew center employee) to reference your own writing, but saddle-in. I'm about to.
My senior thesis was a long work of creative non-fiction called "WaterWorks." It was a chapbook, comprised of a whole bunch of styled, structured essays over a mutual theme of water.
Several them are quite immature and silly, or at least laughable. Some are serious. Some are trying too hard. Some are too vulnerable to actually be in there (thus no push for publication), I think, but it exists nonetheless (feel free to ask after it. I'll email it over, sure).
One of my favorite pieces (though not my professors) is an etymological study behind the word "tear" (the wee eye rain, not paper-ripping). Etymology is just a fancy way to say a study of word origins. I trace it from its root and variations, then bring it from scientific to specific. I like it very much.
I bring it up because the last line of it, which I stole/based-off a line of a poem of mine I didn't want to burn, has been playing in my mind. It's rather worthless to bring up here because you haven't read it, nor would it make sense to take it out of context and reproduce it here, but I've just been thinking about it.
The image it conjures is one total, broken, tears-in-hands, collapse before the spirit of the living God. It's the moment when all you can think to pray is Lord, have mercy.
Inexplicably beautiful and wretched at one time.
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