It's Not Easy Being Green

Though I would classify myself as a follower, conformity has never been something that's come easily to me.

My workplace has a definite herd mentality, though, and I've been working hard to maybe fit in a little more. 

One way I have been doing that is through participation in their health kicks. 

They are super about "cleanses". Generally, they are couple cleanses, and I have instructed Julius to notify Area 51 if I ever suggest doing such a thing. 

And yet. Here I am, doing a cleanse. 

I drank the Kool-Aid, folks, or, rather, the green smoothie. 

A lot of green smoothie. 

For three weeks (I'm on day one of week two), I have made myself a green smoothie. 

Let's be honest. 

The going is rough. 

Twice now, I have consumed with many many faces of pain, a smoothie containing an entire grapefruit and a base of spinach. Ain't nothin' could cover that. My insides felt like they were going to dissolve. 

Today's was better. It had a kale base with nearly a whole pineapple, cranberries, and a lime. 

The flavor was delicious. Texture? A whole different story. Imagine drinking a bush. 

On the whole, doing this has been a good practice in learning that conformity doesn't exactly mean brainwashing or losing your identity in deference for oneness. 

Sometimes, joining the herd is just part of gaining some common ground. It gives you something third party and objective to talk about, a shared practice/experience. 

Being your own person is cool and all, but it's kind of lonely sitting back and poking fun or shunning group activities like you're too cool. Being alone isn't cool at all. It's just lonely. 

Sure, you may want them to, you know, like you for you and stuff, but sometimes you have to take a step in their direction just to give them a bridge toward your island of self. 

Craigslist Friendship

Things started getting desperate, folks.

Moving to a small college town is rough.
No matter where you go, what you do, the only people you find yourself surrounded by are University folk: students, faculty, and alumni.

Now, let's get one thing straight: I adore University folk. Obviously.
However, I spend all day every day working with them, and I go to church with them. I really needed to find a group of people to spend time with that are unaffiliated with my life.

Furthermore, I've found myself in a very natural post-grad state of feeling like I'm floating.
There's no goal.
There's no timeline.

I will come to work tomorrow and the next day and the next day and this summer and the next summer for as long as we both shall live.

Talk about depressing...

A second Master's degree was put back on the table just to give me an outlet (they don't offer cosmo school at night. Weird, right?).

Over the weekend, two of my dearest friends came in to town for a wedding.
I had such constructive, deep, and refreshing conversations with them, and it tipped me past my "toleration of my current life" point, by virtue of reminding me what it is that I'm missing out on by not really having any friends in this place.

Abby, though, told me about this place called meetup.com.
It's like craigslist for friendship.
Yes. Please be shocked at my desperate measures.

I found and RSVPd to a Bible study in Fayetteville.
And I actually went.

Upon arrival, I realized that I had no way of knowing who they were and began to inwardly panic, but thanks to my profile and RSVP, they found me.

About 7 of us from all stages of life talked through 1&2 Timothy, Titus, and Philemon chapter by chapter, challenging one another, sharing questions and insights.

It was SO GOOD for my soul, just being around people who had nothing to do with my school or town and talking about Jesus in a constructive manner.

Relief is what I felt. I know I'm not in school anymore, and I do need a break, but not having anything to sharpen my mind and learn was driving me to distraction.

In post-college life, friends aren't just handed to you anymore. These days, it takes being courageous, being bold, being darling, and being daring to make friends. I'm working on it.

When Life Gives You 11 Pounds of Apples,

you make every conceivable apple-based food item as quickly as possible.

Starting with apple sauce:

Looks kind of like...baby food there, but it's actually quite lovely to the taste buds.

Odom, party of one inherited an entire fridge full of random excess food items, such as 11 pounds of apples (which I diced until I couldn't think), 6 quarts of mushrooms (also diced), two full bags of carrots (which will be diced and made into soup), three heads of broccoli, six heads of lettuce, 3 pounds of pepperoni (which I don't eat), three gallons of milk, 9 large packages of bacon (which I also don't eat), two bags of kiwi, two large bundles of bananas (half sliced and frozen for smoothies and half set aside for bread), a half gallon of cranberry sauce, the aforementioned thanksgiving meal, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Ain't no way I can eat all that. So, I spent a few hours today dicing, packing thanksgiving meals into zip-lock baggies, cooking/recipe making, and asking myself and my mother the question, "Can I freeze that?"

You can freeze a lot more than you'd think, though my freezer is now full to capacity, except for the apples and mushrooms, which will be baked and sauteed and otherwise made more durable tomorrow.

Sauteed these bad boys, put half over mashed potatoes and half back in the fridge with their giant box of uncooked friends. 

Then, post kitchen adventuring (yes, I did do the dishes. All of them) and general winning of wife points, I went to a Christmas concert. 

Lainey invited me nearly 4 times, and I truly did not want to go, but I ended up trotting off to the Waterfront Hall in the end. Turns out, it was not a wee church choir. It is a mass choir, developed nearly 20 years ago now by the then 19 year old Keith Getty (Elaine's brother). The hall it was in is the largest music hall in Northern Ireland, which is a big deal and also not. Because NI is quite wee. I would call it a moderate size for American standards. Smaller than the Tulsa PAC. 

The music was phenomenal. Special arrangements, soloists, and a full orchestra. My mother, aunt, and grandmother would have wept through it. 

Another successful day in the life of the lonely okie.

Caged Human Survival Treatise

Unless they reach the point of desperation or brokenness, caged animals will not go to the bathroom. Or, if they do, they confine their "messes" to the same area. The reason for this is because, whether or not they like it, that cage is their habitat, their den. It helps them retain their wee animalial dignity to keep their area livable. I would venture to say that it also helps keep them from going completely wild.

A clean den is a happy den.

Caged humans need clean dens, too.

Unhealthy situation: caged human sleeps in late, spends all day in comfy sleep-like clothes/clothes he or she slept in, does homework or watches movies or reads all day in bed, goes out of room to fetch some sort of easy food, leaves dishes and clothes strewn about, returns to den, waits until bedtime, and goes to sleep. Repeat daily.

Healthy situation: Caged human wakes up at a set time, gets out of bed, makes it, puts on publicly acceptable clothes, leaves room, does something, anything productive, makes food and also cleans up kitchen and other living rooms, uses mind constructively, interacts socially in some facet, waits until bedtime, and goes to sleep. Repeat daily.

I am going to avoid situation one with one minor adjustment. Jasmine pants are clearly an acceptable form of clothing.

My actual den (or cave, if you will) is the C.S. Lewis Study room.

Super delicious quesadilla I made for dinner. It was just so pretty I needed to show someone. 

It's been a really good alone day.

I have a few survival tips for anyone ever considering self-inflicted international isolation:

1. Embrace the fact that parts of every day are going to feel like the worst possible, most hopeless moments you have ever experienced. They might actually be.
2. Self-judgement isn't going to get you anywhere. Other than God, you're the only person around, so it doesn't matter if you freak out every once in a while.
3. Speaking of freaking out, sometimes that's really helpful. If you feel a bout of absolute panic coming on, and you know it's unavoidable, here are some pointers.
----Run up and down the stairs, dance, or do some other physical activity.
----Use your mind. Something like a puzzle or sudoku would be good. Listen to a sermon or some uplifting music at the same time.
----Tactile activities. Start crafting something, play Jenga, cut up and freeze fruit, make a meal.
----Distract, distract, distract. Leave wherever you are. Pick up around the house, organize a pantry or freezer, vacuum, iron, fold laundry. Create a mess in order to clean the mess.
----Scream. Talk out loud to God (not yourself. bad road). Sing as loudly as you can. Play the djembe. Play scales on the piano. Pretend you know how to play the guitar.
----Cry. Have a nice hard cry. That may feel like the opposite of good (and if you stay crying and defeated for multiple hours, it will become the opposite of good), but it can actually be really healthy. Suppressing emotion or pretending it doesn't exist will actually create insanity. You are feeling what you are feeling and it's okay. So have yourself a nice wee cry and then get on with your life.
4. When you can, get outside.
5. Build in fun into every day.
6. Create a "thankfulness" list.
7. Get a social outlet. It can be a daily walk down to the grocery store or a chat with a barista or a text sesh with your best friend or a skype call or, if you don't have legs or technology, a letter written to a friend, but you absolutely must keep connected.

 I have decided to embrace the fact that each day is going to be an entirely different experience for me. One good day doesn't mean that all my days are going to be good. And, conversely, a bad day doesn't mean all my days will be bad.

I still can't allow myself to think beyond the day (or hour) at hand, but I have every assurance that I will be given the exact measure of what I need to life fully and well each day.

How many people are given the opportunity to have a very long, very thorough detox session with the Lord?

This is absolutely going to suck, and I am going to get pretty desperate here as soon as the newness and almost fun, game-like quality comes to a close, but at the end of this, there ain't no way I'm going to be the same person as when I started. Amen to that.

Merry Happy

December, Day 3. The students are gone. 

The cooks leave tomorrow night. 

That leaves Lainey and me. We chat about once a day around 22:30. Okay so maybe I wait up for her a little bit...

But everything is going to be OK! I have a plan (ha! I don't feel like finding the link to it, but that does remind me of John Kerry's presidential campaign. Never did find out what his "very good plan" was.) My plan is called, "Loneliness and Solitude are Two Things Not to Get Confused." 

Mostly it involves a self-structured schedule, crafts, projects, cleaning, homework, writing, and old people. And Puzzles. lots and lots of puzzling. 

This is my first day of self-scheduling. So far, it's going rather well. I got up an hour after I intended (which I had also accounted for in my schedule. Know thyself...), made tea, got dressed and ready for the day, then headed off to research. However, David (house fix-it extraordinaire) asked me to Christmas the house. We brought in all the boxes of Christmas supplies, and I set about organising. 

 The result is a disastrous foyer (yay! saving that cleaning project for a rainy day!), a garlanded bannister, some random wee trinkets here and there, and  three trees in silver, red, and gold. They're nothing like my ma's Christmas tree whisperer skills could have produced, but they are cheery and I like them.

Next up on my agenda is scavenging for food and then actually doing a bit of research before I head out to a church event tonight.

This is good.

My survival plot just experienced a minor setback in that I've just gotten word that my friend Adam (visiting the UK) is no longer coming to Belfast, so there's that. But...no. yeah. There's that. ha.

Challenges. But challenges are also opportunities. And this could be my opportunity to finally, you know, do something like memorise the encyclopaedia or something.

It's amusing, really, this obscene amount of free and alone time, especially in comparison to my senior year of college. I was literally scheduled every single day from 9 am (ain't nobody talk to me before 9 unless you've got coffee in your hands for me) until 10:30 pm. To get in my planner, you had to ask for a slot a week ahead of time.

This did mean that I missed out on a lot of the random "being there" stuff, eating food other than nachos, pb &j, and cucumbers, and spending time with the people I actually wanted to spend time with in a time slot other than "post 10:30", but I liked it. If I could go back, I'd probably end up doing it really similarly.

Except that last part. I fell asleep during many a night hangout. That doesn't make people feel very valued. ha. It was good for me, that very structured business. I wonder if my friends would have chosen my living ways differently, though. Was it as good for them as it was for me? Or did they feel that I didn't care for them because I just wasn't around or made them into a task of the day?

What were my priorities? What were my motivations? Are they the same now as they were then?
Guess I've got a lot of uninterrupted time to think about it.

Learning to Breathe

At the end of the day: Jesus.

When I spoke of my anticipations of my journey here, I told people that it was going to be cold, dark, lonely and that God was going to break me in every conceivable way possible.

We're coming up on the completion of month three, and he has been as good as his word. Usually (always) is.

I'm a big picture person, though, and didn't fully understand when I said those things what they were going to entail or what they would feel like lived out.

I have lived in Northern Ireland for three months, and in those three months, God has stripped away everything I came here with, and it has not felt good. In fact, it's felt as though my skin were pulled off while a red hot poker slides through my heart.

Good doesn't always feel good.

But I can tell you, I have never before felt such a sense of right alignment of body, mind, and soul. It is nothing like my personality or individuality. Nothing, because it isn't mine. I'm not 100% and I never will be, but for this moment, for this time, God has me exactly where he wants me.

Literally for the first time in my life, I have no idea what my plans are past my time here. And, for literally the first time in my life, I am okay with that.

I'm tired of being the boss. Every inch of me is exhausted of ambition and trying to hold myself and everything around me together and pushing and pushing and pushing toward these invisible (well, sometimes visible) goals.

More than anything else at this moment when I should be feeling this excruciating sense of loss at something I so so wanted and believed in, I feel relieved.

God has taken away everything (both the good and the bad) standing in between the two of us, and I don't feel bitter and I don't feel like fighting it anymore. He's right. He leads us rightly.

I don't want to follow Jesus. I don't think I even have that capacity right now. The energy for it just isn't there. But I can and I will be led. Nothing in the world sounds more enticing or more restful to me right now.

At the end of the day: Jesus.

My friends, that means at the end of the day, Joy. Peace. Clarity of mind. Wholeness of spirit. Love, Understanding, and Rest. Sweet Rest.

Hallelujah and amen.

"The One"

The one who sits and draws anime by herself during lunch period.

The one reading a book in the corner of the classroom and doesn't look up.

The one who walks around the playground singing to herself because people won't play with her.

The one who silently prays that somebody, anybody will ask her to (the) dance.

The one who waits and waits and waits for his name to be called for a dodgeball team.

The one who shouts out smart-alec, mean jokes all during class so people will laugh with him.

The one with the disability who doesn't know people are laughing at him, so he laughs, too.

At one point or another, we've all been "the one." For some people, they've always been the one. Others make a career out of it, allowing it to define them instead of spur them to grow out of it. Others take "growing out of it" way too far and become obsessed with "never feeling that way again."  They become the smartest, the most professional, the most driven. No one and nothing will stand in their way of success.

The sad and ironic thing about those people, though, is that often they become so focussed on never being the one anymore that they buldoze over, belittle, and berate all those under and beside them, creating a hostile environment, creating "ones."

On the other hand, I've known some ones who choose to grow up and grow out. No matter how much they dislike someone, if that person is numero uno on everybody's hate list, continued hatred becomes impossible. Even if that person has previously singled you out for derision, it doesn't matter anymore. Because you know what it 's like to feel the weight of everything and everyone against you, and nobody should have to feel that way. Everybody needs somebody on their team.

Those are some pretty haphazard thoughts, but they've been kind of the theme of my week, thinking about them. No one is what they seem to be, and it isn't fair for me to pass judgement, and it's not okay for me to ever make them feel as though they are unwanted or unloved. I don't know what's really going on in their lives or why they behave the way they do. And it isn't my job to know. It's my job to love them, no matter how hard that can be sometimes.

Chips, Chinese, and Church People

After much deliberation and much persuasion by my church (which I do consider my home church here), I attended The Newcomers' Dinner.

By an equal amount of persuasion, I got the two cooks to join me, and together we ventured through city centre to locate Storehouse, the venue for the evening.

Allow me to say, attending tonight may be the most positive choice I've made since showing up here in Belfast. You're thrown in a smaller room, given food (yummy Chinese food and, naturally, chips (french fries)), and sitting among a bunch of other people who are just like you: newcomers to the church in search of friendship and community and Jesus.

While there, the head pastor's wife, Harmony, and I chatted for a long while. Not only was she kind (a very admirable quality but a wee stifling if not attended with a dose of sass), she was fun. She is the kind of lady that genuinely comes off as wanting to take care of and get to know you. In the first few questions, she asked me why I was here, how long I was staying, and if I'm headed home for Christmas. Queen's, a year, and no.

Immediately, and without any sort of entreaty on my side, she responded to my no with, "You'll not be alone on Christmas, don't you worry. We'll all take care of you. If not with us, someone in the church will want you with them." Even if I make school friends or Belfast friends who adopt me for the holidays, the gesture was enough to make me want to cry.

The rest of the evening, we listened to Harmony and Andy share the vision of the church and a bit of their own spiritual journeys. The most memorable bit to me was that they explained how very non-competitive Vineyard Church is. "We're not the only church in Belfast. Vineyard may not be for you. If it's not, let us help you find a church body." I think that's beautiful. There's no begrudging of "sheep stealing," it's a recognition that everyone's spiritual life and church background is different and that's okay.

Finally, I made friends. Like, friends I could actually see myself hanging out with in real life. In fact, I decided to join a community group that meets on Mondays in lieu of taking a french class. And, I made arrangements with a couple of the girls to carpool there.

This feels right and good. Engaging--not just observing--the body of Christ tonight gave me energy and filled me up. It's very easy for me here, with my slobbery amount of time and lack of real relationships, to start feeding myself negative self-narratives, and those are straight up from the devil. Digging in is awkward and uncomfortable and totally outside my comfort zone, but I think that's kind of how I know it's the right thing to do. Step one in the right direction.

The State of State

Day two of orientation. I was both on time and had a second miraculous experience with the buses, both there and back.

Not much of note today, save meeting Cecilia from Italy, Sanna from Sweden, Miriam from Germany, and Daniel from Bellavore. Or something like that. Poor Daniel. When he told me where he was from, I asked him if that was a country or a city. Somewhere crammed up there with Russia and Poland. I shall have to look it up.

Post orientation session and verification that I am, in fact, legal to study in this country, I went on a book hunt. I only have one of my classes' lists, but it is quite lengthy. Thanks to Joris, I knew of a few book shops near school. Two of them were lucky for me, though I deferred the purchases for store two for a different day.

At OxFam books, I found three sort of versions of the books I need. I say sort of because they're not exactly what I need but they suit my purposes. For example, rather than the complete anthology of Oscar Wilde's short stories, I found the complete anthology of Oscar Wilde's works. Yes? Yes.

When I was checking out, the bookman noticed my wee notebook with book list written-in, asked if I were in a rush, then scampered off downstairs to the basement to check to see if any of them were there. Then, when they weren't, he pulled out a giant map of Belfast and traced directions (by way of landmark not north/south/east/west) to two shops he thought could be of use to me.

I am constantly shocked at the kindness of strangers.

Post hunt, I went about in the botanical gardens for a bit.

The green house contraption is full of cacti and hot plants. If you were not aware, I've a particular soft spot for cacti.

Most of today, though, I was homesick. I'm having a lovely time, don't get me wrong. It just so happens that even if your life at home is dull and drives you insane, when you leave it and someone asks you, "Where you from? What's it like?", you get into all the hot wee details about it--how your best friend lives within walking distance and has a cow pasture for a backyard and how you can hear the still-in-use oil rigs going if you go for a walk in quiet hours of the day and how the weather just before and just after a tornado is full and electric and tinges the world with green and how you can switch from country to small town to city within fifteen minutes and how you spent every summer as a mermaid in your backyard pool--and you remember why you loved it in the first place.

It's home. It may not be my home right now or even in the next few years, and it certainly did not give me that feeling of place and true belonging when I was there this summer, despite the presence of my wonderful family. But in my heart, always, there is Oklahoma.

Shower Thoughts

We may read this very differently, but to me, those words are less a warning and more a promise. To that end, I have been deceived. My sink's water is many things, including refreshing, liquidy, and face-awakening in the mornings. It is not, however, "very hot." Or mildly warm. Or chilly. It is frigid. 

The shower on the other hand, is a completely different story. Well, first, about the shower. Elaine and I call it the wet room. In the wet room--which is the same size as my bedroom--there is a little sink in a corner, a toilet by the wall, and a shower curtain hanging from the ceiling, slightly concealing a shower head. 

Other than that slight curtain, though, there is no division. Thus, keep anything you want dry in the sink, as the entire room practically gets soaked during showers. The showers are very hot, actually, once you pull the right cord on the wall, of which there are 4. 

I feel like Indiana Jones choosing the Holy Grail or a character from The Emperor's New Groove trying to navigate the way to Ezma's secret lab. Choose the wrong cord and all sorts of terrible will surprise you in the form of glacier-like water. 

It's a little TMI, but I have a point. I like taking showers in the dark. Partially because I'm a morning showerer and it takes the edge off greeting the day and partially because I am not a fan of artificial lights (or fans. which is a pun and also the truth). 

The wet room, other than a ring-sized ring of light on the shower box, is completely dark, and you can't see anything when the light goes off. After a minute or so, though, you are able to discern shapes and shadows and see pretty competently. There's more light in the darkness than you expected at the start. 

I am lonely here. I'm not a JBU student, so I can't fully bond with them. The lady I work with has completely the opposite personality style than me, and I have yet to figure a way to make that relationship cohesive. I know no one in this country, and everyone I love is an ocean away. In short, it feels a wee bit dark in this dark, wet country. 

However, just like my inky wet room, I know that the darkness will soon show to have more light than I currently perceive. School starts in only a matter of weeks and with it, people my age and stage of life--even if the country stays clouded. I am, then, not worried. I just have to wait it out and try to find ways to make my own sunshine. 

Right now, that means reading (if you must know, I'm reading P.S. I Love You. It was in the house. Don't judge me), spending time with Jesus, watching movies, and occasionally venturing out of my room to explore. All is well.