Love Trumps Hate

At first, I thought about saving this post until tomorrow, but decided not to. It’s April 15th, 2017. Saturday. Yesterday was Good Friday, and tomorrow is Easter Sunday. It’s almost the end of Passover Week.

I felt like it was a good time to try to talk about this. I’ve voiced some of my thoughts here and there, but I’ve never quite dared to share them in full. I’ve come close. I’m not sure how many blog posts I actually wrote, but were too scared to publish.

I’m not a pastor. Although I’ll be attending a Christian university this upcoming year, I’ve never gone to school for the Bible. I’ve only taken a basic World Religions class (which was fascinating, I’ll add). So I’m not making any claims that what I have to say will be completely accurate. I’ll just say that it makes sense to me, from my point of view, with my admittedly limited perspective.

There is a lot of hate in this world, and I think we all know it.

How many men, women, and children starved to death today, their passing unnoticed by the world at large? How many people were murdered, their slayings unheralded by the press? How many people committed suicide today, or attempted to, unaware that their lives mattered? How many people were brutally attacked in some form or another, and how many people were robbed?  How many people are still trapped in slavery? How many people are in some form of medical care, and how many people are waiting by their bedsides–and how many of the patients have no one to sit with them? How many people don’t have a roof over their heads tonight, and how many people are estranged from their families for one reason or another? How many people have simply gone missing? How many people are addicted to drugs? How many people got called one more slur?

Their lives matter, or mattered, regardless of whether or not we knew about them, but how many are mourning them? Has it ever occurred to you that millions, billions, of people live and die each day without us ever knowing they existed in the first place? How many people suffered tragic loss and we were blissfully unaware, or too caught up in our own struggles to notice?

Here in America, the ostensible leader of the free world and the best nation in the world, in the 21st Century, we need a movement to proclaim that Black Lives Matter. Why? Because despite the lip service, and even the genuine protests, by so many people that they like and respect black people, that’s not reflected in our society, which was fundamentally built on racism, on suppressing anyone and everyone not deemed truly white. The brutal, ugly truth of America is that our society was founded with institutionalized racism, on the suppression and oppression–even the attempted annihilation–of people of color. The only time that the threat that immigrants to America would wipe out native culture was actually true was not when the African Americans were bought over on slave ships, or when Chinese and other Asian people came for work, or when the people of Mexico started cross the border, or when any other ethnic group came here; the idea that immigrants are here to steal our jobs, kill us all, wipe out our culture, and rape our women is one that has stuck around since the beginning of American history and has continually been proven false, which is why I don’t believe that Mexican immigrants, documented or otherwise, are a true threat to us. Historically speaking, that argument is invalid–it’s been around for about two centuries and has never been correct; the blame has simply shifted from one ethnic minority to another in an attempt to justify white dominance and superiority. No, the only time that an immigrant genocide against the native population has ever been attempted, the only time that immigrants have ever actually tried to wipe out the people and the culture that were here before them, was when the Europeans arrived on these shores. That’s not to say that many didn’t truly come here for religious freedom, but the only time the threat that some white Americans espouse was real was when our ancestors did it, when it was done for capitalism and colonialism, but was done in the name of God.

It’s true. Some people might claim that I’ve drunk the liberal Kool-Aid, and now I hate white people, but that’s not accurate. I just decided to pay attention to history and race relations. Race, by the way, only exists as a social construct. The concept still carries great power, but there is no “black gene” or “Asian gene”, and “black” is not synonymous with “African origin” and “Asian” is considerably vague, considering all the different cultures and ethnicities that are Asian. And “white” is not a race, anyway. When people wonder why we don’t have “White Lives Matter”, why we can’t have “White Pride” rallies, they misunderstand something crucial: white is just a skin tone, and it’s a highly relative one at that. There is no white ethnicity. There is an Irish ethnicity, so you can have “Irish Pride”, but white is just a skin color.

I didn’t mean to get into all that so deeply, but I did. Saying “Black Lives Matter” does not mean that you don’t believe that all lives matter; it just means that you’re calling specific attention to a particular group of people who have been historically mistreated, and are calling for social justice. Someone who says “Black Lives Matter” does believe that all lives matter, most likely, which is why they’re calling attention to black lives–because in order to treat them as though we do believe they matter, we need to recognize the ways in which we are systemically and institutionally discriminatory, treating them like second class citizens.

So we have “Black Lives Matter”, and other groups that petition for equal rights and freedoms for people of other ethnicities. We have Democrats vs Republicans, with everyone else more or less along for the ride. We have liberals vs conservatives, although other groups are gaining traction, for better or for worse, recognizing the growing disillusionment with bipartisan politics, which never seem to succeed at anything except hurting the people at large with their never-ending pissing contests. We have feminists against misogynists (as well as misandrists), while a lot of people are still on the fence about which side they’re actually on. We have antifascists vs fascists, with the public mostly seeming to speak out against those who are championing for freedom instead of hate. We have Christians vs the LGBTQIA+ community. We have the so-called “social justice warriors” and “special snowflakes” against the alt-right, who are essentially against anyone and everyone who isn’t a cissexual, heterosexual white male. America is against the Middle East, except for countries in which Agent Orange has business connections, as well as Israel.

It’s a mess, in short, a brutal, bloody mess in which billions of lives are at stake. Keep in mind, I was talking about American issues, since I know them the best; factor in problems in other countries, and it only gets bleaker.

Hatred is everywhere. Strife is common. I was born in 1996; for my entire life, America has been in one war or another. If my history is correct, I was born during the Gulf War; just after was the War on Terror, which we’re still fighting, right? I’m not wrong about that? It’s just been so long, with so many different factions and opponents and allies, that sometimes, I’m not even sure what war we’re fighting anymore. That’s not to mention everything I’ve heard about the war on drugs and the war on women. My entire life, I have not lived in a country at peace. There has always been a war.

There are so many others like me throughout the world, and many others who have had it worse.

I’m reminded, however, of Martin Luther King Jr’s famous quote, “Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

Christians say that everyone is welcome in church. In fact, I heard it just tonight, from my church’s lead pastor’s Easter sermon. He said that the first reason why Christianity is actually the fairest way to Heaven in an extremely unfair world is that everybody’s welcome. This is something that Christians, for the most part, believe, and I’d frankly have to wonder whether or not the people who claim to be Christians but don’t believe that Christianity is completely inclusive are actually Christians; they are certainly the ones giving the rest of us an extremely incorrect and negative reputation in the eyes of non-believers. For the record, not all Christians are bigots, and many bigots are not Christian. But how could a true Christian withold love from the same person or people that is loved by the God that supposed Christian believes in, worships, and strives to emulate?

“Everybody’s welcome” and “God loves everyone the same” are things that Christians say, and are what Christians believe, but are those things what Christians actually live? Not all of us, honestly, and certainly not all the time. Some may be worse than others–inclusivity might be a personal problem area for many–but all of us have had times when we’ve failed to welcome someone who was different, or reach out to someone who wasn’t like us. As human beings, we all have prejudices–that is something that I believe all people share, because I believe it’s a dark part of human nature that we’re all naturally inclined to believe we’re better than others. It’s greed and vanity and pride that makes us susceptible to such beliefs. Hopefully, though, most of us are more welcoming.

The ones that don’t have a huge impact, though, and arguably, so far they’ve had a bigger impact than the ones who do welcome people of different backgrounds. I once heard of a study done among LGBTQ+ people who grew up as Christians. They went to church on Sundays, had Christian parents, probably accepted Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior–they were no different than most other Christians. But when they eventually dared to come out as gay and/or transgender (something which took a huge amount of courage), when they chose to be honest (a virtue, last I checked), they felt mocked. They reported bullying to whoever was in charge of the survey. They said they were treated as lessor, as inferior, second class. They were not treated with the love that Jesus said to give your neighbor, but with hate, fear, prejudice, and discrimination. The reason that most of them chose to leave the church was not because they weren’t cissexual or heterosexual, implying that most of them would have been perfectly willing and comfortable to continue participating in church if they were accepted; they would have still gone every Sunday, listened to the sermons, worshiped, and prayed–they would have continued on the same as before. They were still willing to live a Christian life, other than being gay or transgender (and for any who would cry out that both of those things are sins and thus they wouldn’t be living a Christian life, I ask you to run down the list of the Ten Commandments and see just how morally you’re living–but you’re still living a Christian life, aren’t you?). No, they left because they felt like they weren’t wanted or accepted. They left because despite being willing to live a Christian life, or mostly Christian life, they felt like the other Christians didn’t want them. They didn’t feel safe.  By and large, the word they used to describe how they felt about going back to church one day was “terrified”. Terrified.

In effect, they were driven out of the church by the very people who claim that they believe that “everybody’s welcome”, the very people who condemn them for not returning to church. That’s our fault, generally, collectively, and here I’m including myself, because while I don’t consider myself a conservative, I am a Christian.

That’s just one example, of one study I heard of. I’ve read about the relationship between African Americans and the church. There’s other examples out there, if you look for them. I’m not here tonight to list them all. I just remember reading about that study in a book about Christianity and the LGBTQ+ at Evangel’s one afternoon, and it’s stuck with me ever since. They said they were terrified, people who had experienced Christianity for themselves and once considered themselves as members. And they’re terrified of stepping foot in a church ever again. Because other Christians drove them out, intentionally or otherwise, despite preaching about the love of God.

As Christians, is the message we think we’re sending to non-believers, a message of welcome and of love, the one we’re actually sending? And if non-believers aren’t getting the message, how much of that is actually our fault?

The LGBTQ+ community is angry. But I believe that anger is the outward form of fear. They are afraid, and that’s a personal, individual thing; it manifests to others as anger. Anger is the defense; fear is what’s inside. And the reason that the LGTBQ+ community is angry at us, at Christians, is because they see us as not only on the side of their oppressors, but as one of them. They don’t see love, they see hate. It’s not intentional on our part, but they see hate in the name of God.

And that is very, very wrong. We serve a God who loves everyone the same. Jesus spent time with–and made friends with– “the least of these”, the lowest people in society. The rejects, the outcasts, those who never fit in and were never accepted. He was friends with tax collectors, foreigners, the poor, the disabled, and prostitutes. While none were mentioned, some of them might have been gay, for all we know. Meanwhile, he called out the religious leaders of the time, who vaunted their own moral successes and looked down on others (“Thank God you didn’t make me like them!”). He criticized and rebuked those who flaunted their own self-righteousness and condemned those that they deemed inferior, or were different. They created rules to follow that had nothing to do with God, but praised themselves for following them, and looked down on those who didn’t or couldn’t. Jesus called them vipers and whitewashed tombs filled with dead bones.

Christians are humans. We’re not perfect. We make mistakes. I know how it feels to feel like Christians aren’t relateable, because they seem pretentious–consciously or otherwise–that you’re just a heathen in comparison. I’ve had that feeling as a Christian myself, feeling like I couldn’t measure up and they couldn’t understand me because I was too messy, too worldly. We wrestle with lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride as much as anyone else does. Our mission on Earth is to show non believers who God is by the way we live our lives; as arrogant as I once was told it sounds, we’re supposed to be ambassadors to non-believers, showing them why citizenship in Heaven is so great, why serving the King of Kings is better than they think.

And we kinda suck at it, I’ll be honest. Because we’re human, too. In order to be good ambassadors of Christ, we’d have to be as perfect as Him, and we’re not. We can’t be, because if we were perfect, why would we need Christ? It is said and believed that Christ’s strength shines through our weakness, and I believe the same of His infallibility. We don’t do a very good job all the time of giving even a semi-accurate depiction of God, but that’s one more reason why we need Him. His grace is evident in our lives, as well as His mercy and love. His justice, too.  We’re imperfect ambassadors to show that the only perfect ambassador from Heaven is Jesus Christ.

And what does any of this have to do with Good Friday and Easter?

Because Good Friday is the yearly memorial of the day that Jesus Christ, the perfect Son of God, died for us all. Despite being part of the Trinity and thus having existed since the beginning of time, we usually celebrate the start of Jesus’s story every winter, with the celebration of the birth of a baby in a manger, God Incarnate sent to Earth to save us. In that frame of mind, the story that begins with Christmas continues with Good Friday, when the baby Jesus, all grown up, goes from the manger to the cross. He was perfect. He never sinned. He didn’t know what it was like to sin. But the wages of sin is death, and a perfect God cannot abide sin in his presence.

A God who was only just, a God who was completely fair, would have left it at that, with humanity cursed and doomed to Hell. But God did something that was completely unfair, and He did it out of love. He knew the only way to save sinners was to send a person who never sinned; sinners can’t save sinners, because we’re no better than each other, as much as we’d like to believe that we’re not as bad as the next person.

He sent Jesus. And Jesus died, once for all, to save everyone who has ever lived, is living, and ever will live from every single sin they will ever commit so that they will never have to go to Hell. The only thing we have to do is believe. It seems too good to be true–we’d like to earn it–but we can’t. God’s standard to enter Heaven is “perfect”, and we can’t reach that no matter how hard we try. Only Jesus could, and he was the final and ultimate sacrifice for sin. A just God has to abide by standards, but also being a God of love, He saved us.

He who knew no sin was driven by our sin to the cross. The Prince of Peace was violently murdered by humanity. It was wholly undeserved; He’d done nothing wrong, and certainly nothing to warrant execution. Our darkest day, our worst moment, was when we killed the Son of God. It was our sin that drove Him to the cross, but it was His love for us that kept Him there. He could’ve gotten down at any time; He was powerful enough, and He knew it. But He knew if He did, we wouldn’t be saved, and so He bore our sin, our pain, our shame, even though He didn’t have to. And He stayed until it was finished.

That was Good Friday. Yesterday.

In just a little while, it’ll be Easter Sunday. Because the story doesn’t end with a tortured and executed “criminal” in a borrowed grave. The story continues.

Because the grave isn’t empty. Jesus died on the cross on Friday, two thousand years ago (give or take a few) to save us from our sins, but on Sunday, He rose from the dead to give us life, to give us hope. All the other religious leaders throughout history who claimed to have the answer to eternal life, to a good afterlife, to meaning, is still dead. You can check their graves, real or theorized.

But the Lamb of God is the King of Kings. And He conquered the grave. Death could not hold Him.

For some, “love trumps hate” is a mantra against the rising tide of hate in this country and this world. For others, it’s just a silly mantra to be scoffed at and mocked. For still others, it means nothing, something to roll your eyes at as you move on with your day and wonder why people are still saying it.

For me, though, it’s real. Love does trump hate, and political connotations and biases aside, Jesus Christ proved it, once and for all, on Good Friday. Some have said that that is the day when true love died, because Jesus died as the ultimate expression of love and sacrifice; God is love, and Jesus was the Son of God (and still is). This is the reason why I can say with confidence that love triumphs over hate, because it already has.

What I am trying to say is this, the ultimate message of this post:

Approximately 2,000 years ago, Jesus said, “Everyone’s loved, and everyone’s welcome.” While we are increasingly caught up in one division and conflict after another, while we even hurt and destroy each other, Jesus Christ did something amazing. He did something more powerful than anything we could ever do to each other, no matter how terrible that action is. He saved us all, and all He asks in return to accept that salvation is that we believe in Him.

Jesus did not come for the whites. He did not come for the straight. He did not come for the people whose gender identity aligns with their assigned sex at birth. He did not come for those whose yearly income exceeds a certain amount. He did not come for men. He did not come for the conservatives. He did not come for the occupants of a nation who are there legally. He did not come for the good citizens. He did not come for those who have it all figured out.

He came for everyone. He came for love for all, and as his ambassadors, Christians, we are called to express that sacrificial love for all people. The Greatest Commandment is to love God with everything we have, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.

What I’m here to say is that love truly does trump hate. What I’m here to say is that we need to be better at showing others the love that Christ shows us. What I’m here to say is that a love far greater than anything you’ve ever experienced is available, if you haven’t already accepted it.

This is what I know. Regardless of how you identify, regardless of your political affiliations, regardless of your place of origin, regardless of if you’re here legally, regardless of how you believe, regardless of your appearance, Jesus loves you, and He’s called me to do the same, and so that is one of my most important goals. I have a lot of prejudices; I’ve been made aware of at least some of them. But it’s important to me that I conquer them, because I want everyone to know the love I’ve found in Jesus, and I can’t do that if there are barriers and walls in my heart, in my mind, that get in the way of showing that love.

You are loved. You are important. You are special. The God of the universe sent His only Son, His perfect Son, to save you. He loved you enough for that.

You may be lost, and you may be broken, but He is the God of the broken hearted. He will restore you, and He will make you better than you ever thought possible.

He is a just God. Sin exists, and He can’t have it in His presence. But He offered a way out and He promised that any and all who call upon the name of the Lord will be saved. Immediately. And you don’t have to try to clean yourself up morally first–you don’t have to go do ten good things before you pray to Him. You just come as you are; He knows who you are better than you do, and He knows everything you’ve done, good and bad, so you don’t have to hide; there’s no point. And once you cry out to Him, once you repent, you will be renewed.

I know it sounds incredible, too good or too strange to be true, or both. The concept of sin is hard to deal with, and it’s just as hard to accept that doing wrong  is a sin. It’s not easy to accept that you can’t save yourself no matter what you do. I get it. There’s a lot of questions, a lot of arguments, and it’s difficult.

But regardless of if you believe me, it’s true, it’s possible, and as long as you live, it’s right there waiting. The existence of God’s love, mercy, grace, and salvation is not dependent on your belief, but believing in the truth will set you free, including from chains you might not even see right now. God loves you.

Now, as I said in the beginning of the post, I’m not a pastor. I don’t go to school for the Bible. I’ve only taken one religion class, and it was a basic one. I may not have all of my theology right. As a result, if I said something you disagree with, something that you think is wrong, please tell me. I want to know for myself, and because I don’t want to tell anyone anything that isn’t true.

“Worthy is the Lamb who was slain. Worthy is the King who conquered the grave.”

–“This is Amazing Grace” by Phil Wickham

 

Full Circle

Well, I said I’d give an update on how things go, and so here I am, even if it’s a little overdue.

My biggest news is this: I’ve been accepted to George Fox University! I was told that there was never a point in time that I almost didn’t make it in, which was a huge relief, because until my report card for this last term at RCC came out, I was extremely nervous. I’d made some mistakes in a few earlier classes, and I was worried that those bad grades, despite my good overall GPA and all the classes I did well in, would ruin my chances. Even after seeing my report card (B, B+, A, A), I was still a little concerned that my failures would matter more than my successes. But I’m in! I’m working on financial aid (I’ll have to be taking out loans after all, ick–but hey, I avoided them so far) and I’ve applied for housing, and I’ll be registering for classes in June.

The ball is rolling. Move in day is, like, August 24th, exactly one week from my 21st birthday. Which means I have exactly one week to celebrate finally reaching 21 before I have to abide by an honor code–so, do I have any friends that would be comfortable going out with me for drinks, and maybe some gambling? I’m concerned that I don’t, but that puts a damper on party plans.

I will now be working towards a Bachelor’s in Cinema and Media Communication, with a concentration in (most likely) Film and Video Production. Still working on how I’m going to pay for it, and I’m waiting to find out where I’m going to live, but it’s happening. I’m really, really excited! I think GFU, Newberg, and Portland will be good places for me, with lots of chances for socialization (that thing I don’t do very well but I need to work on) and outreach (that other thing I don’t do very well but I need to work on). I’ve compiled a list of possible clubs, and I’m looking into places in the area to, say, eat and shop. I’ve also found ways to be involved with the school paper and radio station.

The motto at George Fox University is “Be Known”, personally, spiritually, academically, and as a global citizen. During the 2-day preview I went to, “community” was a big theme; I kept hearing that word a lot, not just from staff (who are paid partially to say it) but by students as well. Actually getting to know people. People saying hi to you when they see you. The film department is small, only about 80 students right now–not 80 students with my concentration, but 80 students in the entire film program–and the professors want it to keep it that way, in order to never lose the community feel. The students get to know each other, and help each other on projects; one person might be directing one film, helping write another, and then hear that another project needs an actor in a certain role. They know each other and work together.

Honestly, that’s a huge selling point for me. As introverted and even asocial as I am, community is still important to me, as long as all members are still recognized and valued as individuals. I’m very sensitive to being treated as a number in the system, or a name on a piece of paper; my acceptance letter uses “Miss Alex Hyde”. Not my full name, which is what I use on official things, and with supervisors who don’t know me; if I introduce myself to, say, someone in the admissions department, or to a professor (over email), I use my entire first name, and somewhere in the email itself I might put in parentheses that I go by “Alex”. My full name is more formal, more official; anyone who knows me personally refers to me as “Alex”.

And that’s what’s on my letter. I was expecting “Alexandria”, like all official documents. What I saw instead is my usual, everyday name.

I’m taking it as a very good sign.

I went to the Bruin Preview last week, and had a good time, despite the power outage on Friday that derailed my entire plan for the day. I didn’t get to go on a housing tour like I’d intended, but they didn’t have the keys for any of the apartments or houses, so I chose not to go; most likely, I’ll be in one of them, as there’s only one residence hall for upperclassmen. I did get to sit in on a class, although it wasn’t the one I’d originally wanted to, but it was nice to get to spend more time with the film department. I was somewhat lost as to what they were discussing–they were all strangers, and it was a workshop, so they were showing what parts of their projects they could without power, since the building was running on a backup generator used for on-location shoots). I got to stay in a house, not a dorm room, which was a huge relief, and I ended up getting to meet a lot of nice people. I even went to a poetry slam, one of the final events for Cesar Chavez Week, a week of celebrating the influence of immigrants on our society. It was a very good time, getting to hear other peoples’ point of views, especially since the theme was Social Justice. I gave my phone number to a possible transfer student from California who is about the same age and grade level as me, but didn’t get to get hers; one of my hosts gave me her phone number in case I needed someone to talk to.

I think I could be okay there.

When I left the preview, I drove down to Bandon for River Valley Community Church’s annual Women’s Retreat. In the wake of my time at George Fox, I was looking forward to getting there in the hopes that I could find some time away so that I could really pray about my decision; I was also excited to support my mom, who was one of the speakers. She did a wonderful job, and I’m so proud of her for following God, trusting and taking refuge in him, and in doing so getting the courage to conquer her fear of public speaking. I never got to get away quite like I’d intended, but I was still given a strong sense of peace and optimism about my future at George Fox; I also had a fun time with my roommates, and in my small group, and getting to hear the other two speakers was very beneficial.

Okay, that wasn’t the best summary of my previous weekend, but a lot happened in those few days. Most of it was spent driving, or sleeping, or having people talk at me from in front of a room. There was some eating and some socializing as well, of course, but overall, while a pleasant experience and worth the trip, it could be summarized as a lot of driving, sleeping, and listening.

So, that’s where I’m at now. I’m in the process of wrapping up a few loose ends at RCC so that I can leave Grants Pass in the summer with everything finished, and I’m working on the next steps to attending GFU. I’m also still searching for a job. Interesting times.

As for why this post is titled “Full Circle”? Well, because that’s the feeling I got at the retreat. Almost exactly (if not actually exactly) a year before, I was at my first women’s retreat, at the same location. I had no idea what I was doing with my life, and I really wasn’t in a good place. It may have seemed like it, and in a lot of ways, I was fine, but I still had a lot of emotional/mental/spiritual issues I was struggling with. And I was there at the retreat, and I remember watching the staff, wondering what it would be like to work at a place like that, at the ocean where groups of Christian people come every week for a retreat or something. I knew that at least some of the staff even lived on campus. The final night, there was some sort of “dedicate your life to Christ, truly let him guide you” sort of thing, where we were all challenged to surrender to God’s will and let him lead us where he wanted. I did so, knowing it was right, but in the following weeks and even month or two, I still wasn’t in a good place. Arguably, in some ways, I was worse, because I wondered what was wrong with me that God didn’t seem to be leading me anywhere; I didn’t seem to be improving–I still seemed as much like a screw up as before. If God was truly leading me, if I was capable of being led, if I was growing closer to him, why did I feel exactly the same?

And on June 17th, I arrived in Cannon Beach to work at the conference center. I’d applied in order to avoid working at McDonald’s, so that my mom would stop asking (or, nagging, as I saw it then) me to do it, and because, as she’d said, I had no good reason to stay in Grants Pass. I wasn’t excited to go; I was more worried than anything. I would be a stranger in a place I’d only been to once but couldn’t remember, working at a camp with a bunch of fellow Christians, but even that had me nervous. I’d learned during my week at Multnomah for Worldview Academy about two or three years before that I was actually capable of fitting in with other Christians (I’d previously feared that I was too worldly compared to the Little House on the Prairie-esque image I had in my head of the stereotypical Christian who was thus completely unrelateable and practically not even human) but those concerns were coming back, joined by my insecurities about my ability to actually form meaningful connections with other people. I remember driving in the car and trying to convince myself that I wouldn’t repeat the mistake I made at SOU to stick to myself and not try to get to know people; I resolved that I would try to break out of my shell, my comfort zone, and that maybe I’d have a decent summer as a result.

Looking back, despite all the related highs and lows, I see now that going to Cannon Beach was God’s answer to the decision I made that final night at the retreat. And I got to see for myself what it was like to work at a place like Camp Bradley. This past year has been incredible. It’s been wonderful, heartbreaking, infuriating, and quite the ride. I can see some of the changes in myself, and despite all the pain, it’s been worth it for the good things.

I got more than the few months of job experience and an escape from a blisteringly hot summer. I got increased confidence, more of a sense of self, and really good friends. I got a better relationship with God, although I still have a very long ways to go.

So, this year, at perhaps the exact same time–once again, on the same night, the final night of the retreat–I was reflecting on where God took me the previous year and what was going to happen this year. And he gave me a sense of peace and excitement about George Fox. The first time, I went to Camp Bradley and ended up in Cannon Beach; this year, I went to Camp Bradley and I’m going to end up in Newberg. I came full circle. I’ve seen some of how God directed me in the last year, and I’m going to George Fox with the faith that I’m following God’s path for my life now. Part of me is already wondering what will happen next year–what will happen in the next several months that I’ll be looking back on next time?

 

My Top Three Fictional Role Models

In no particular order. I started this post the day after International Woman’s Day, and I’ve wanted to finish it ever since. It’s just been on my mind. These are my fictional role models. International Woman’s Day, which came just before the 20th anniversary of the premire of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on March 10 (#buffyslays20), had me thinking about the women in fiction I’ve looked up to, as well as why. And when writing my quick post for International Woman’s Day, I’d included a photo of Carrie Fisher as Princess Leia, as well as wrote a brief tribute to her; it got me thinking of how much Leia changed my childhood, as well as how much Carrie Fisher will be missed. She meant a lot to so many people, for how she spoke up for women and the mentally ill, as well as body image issues. So, all these things together meant that I wanted to take some time to write this post.

Princess Leia, Star Wars. I talked about this in my last post, so I’ll try to keep it a little brief. Leia changed how I saw women in fiction; she certainly changed how I saw princesses. Suddenly, Cinderella and Aurora didn’t cut it anymore. Cinderella’s biggest goal was to go to the ball, spent time with the Prince for one evening, and he later could only identify her because she was apparently the only person in the kingdom with that particular shoe size. Aurora was raised by fairies and then spent a good deal of time in a coma (by the way, the Prince never got consent to kiss her, which essentially means that the movie romanticizes sexual assault, regardless of the in-universe reasons; IRL, we’d be disgusted). The feminist critiques and realistic movie titles are everywhere, but here’s a few of my favorites:

And then came Leia. Leia, who snuck a message to Obi-Wan Kenobi in R2-D2 with the plans for the Death Star. Leia, who survived the initial Stormtrooper attack, talked back to Vader and Tarkin, lied to their faces about being on a diplomatic mission, didn’t break even when witnessing the destruction of her planet and her loved ones, and withstood torture. Leia, who was a Rebel spy who took charge of her own rescue when Han and Luke couldn’t figure out how to get away. Leia, who helped lead the Resistance and who also fought herself. Leia, who withstood torture again, helped save her love interest, shook off getting shot, and, again, helped fight. She ended up becoming a General. Yes, these things are fiction. Are all of these things possible, in some real-world context, for one woman to do? I don’t know. But it’s not the “withstanding torture” and “sassing off to Darth Vader” parts that really inspire me. Sure, mouthing off to Darth Vader is a complete Moment of Awesome for her–not to mention lying to his face–but what inspires me is her strength. What inspires me is that she was a leader. Not once did a man say that he wouldn’t take orders from a woman; she told them what to do, and they did it, all without question or hesitation in regards to her gender. It was a non-issue, like it didn’t even occur to them that they were answering to a woman. No one felt emasculated, or complained of preferential treatment. Leia just gave orders, and people complied. Leia never gave up, and she was one of the bosses. And she also taught me that women could fight.

She was not looking for a hero; Han Solo would not have been a love interest for Cinderella. When Luke came to rescue her, the knight in shining armor, she lounged in that seat, arched an eyebrow, and questioned who in the world he was, instead of waxing poetic about how he saved her (this, after insulting him when she thought he was a Stormtrooper). She helped save herself. She spoke her own mind. Leia was not defined by her need for a man to save her. And when, ultimately, the boys gave into grief–Luke ran off to some isolated world, and Han left her to return to smuggling, she continued on. In a lot of ways, the Star Wars saga is about men who dropped the ball–Anakin, Luke, Han–and one woman who persisted. She stayed to fight the battle, regardless of her own personal issues, after losing her planet, her family, her brother, her husband, and her son. And, despite all the jokes about the Skywalker Whining Gene, she never whined or complained about any of it. Not once that we’ve ever seen. In many ways, Leia is the true hero of the Star Wars saga, because she kept the Rebellion alive, as well as the Resistance. The time that she was at her lowest wasn’t even when Vader was torturing her, in my opinion, because she still talked back to him. Her lowest was being forced into that metal bikini and chained to Jabba–because she was silent (Carrie Fisher hated that outfit and insisted on being the one to kill Jabba, not a stunt double). Carrie herself noted this once in an interview. Jabba forced her into a bikini and made her silent–and then she took the chains meant to enslave her and strangled the patriarchal slug with them. And did I mention she snuck into the palace dressed as a man and successfully bluffed Jabba, too?

For the first time, I learned that princesses didn’t have to be damsels in distress. From Leia, I learned that princesses didn’t have to be weak, defined by their beauty and their ability to charm woodland animals. I learned that “happily ever after” didn’t have to mean marriage to a Prince Charming (who the Princess didn’t always know before falling in love with), where ultimate happiness isn’t defined as a romantic relationship with a man (instead, a woman could be strong and happy in her own right) and popping out pretty babies for sequels. Leia taught me that princesses didn’t always have to be saved. And, eventually, after years of hating the Disney Princesses (even Belle disappointed me by going in for technical bestiality and entering into a relationship with all the hallmarks of domestic abuse) and being uncomfortable with the whole “princess” thing in general, finding it something to be disdainful and ashamed of, Leia helped remind me that “princess” does not equal “weak”.

Buffy Summers, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “Into every generation, there is a chosen one. One girl in all the world. She alone will wield the strength and skill to stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer.” What a resume. Her job is to fight monsters and prevent the yearly apocalypse–and still somehow be a young woman with friends, family, and love interests.

“I’m the thing that monsters have nightmares about.”

–Buffy, BtVS S7 “Showtime”

Over the course of the show, she showed a lot of determination, even dying twice in order to stop evil and protect the people she loved. While her self-righteousness got irritating at times, Buffy–not to mention the other protagonists of both Buffy and Angel–helped teach me the value of doing the right thing, even when it all seems hopeless. A few encouraging words from the course of the show, with one from its spin-off:

“Strong is fighting! It’s hard, and it’s painful, and it’s every day. It’s what we have to do.”

–Buffy, BtVS S3 “Amends”

“The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live.”

–Buffy, BtVS S5 “The Gift”

“There’s moments in your life that make you, that set the course of who you’re gonna be. Sometimes they’re little, subtle moments. Sometimes they’re not. I’ll show you what I mean… Bottom line is, even if you see them coming, you’re not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So, what are we, helpless? Puppets? Nah. The big moments are gonna come, you can’t help that. It’s what you do afterwards that counts. That’s when you find out who you are.”

–Whistler, BtVS S2 “Beginning: Part One”

“You have a choice. You don’t have a good choice, but you have a choice.”

–Buffy BtVS S2 “Lie To Me”

“Life’s not a song. Life isn’t bliss. Life is just this, it’s living. You’ll get along. The pain that you feel, only can heal, by living. You have to go on living.”

–Spike, BtVS S6 “Once More With Feeling” (bonus points for the fact that he’s singing this)

And then, this exchange, from Angel:

“What if I told you it doesn’t help? What would you do if you found out that none of it matters? That it’s all controlled by forces more powerful and uncaring than we can conceive. And they will never let it get better down here. What would you do?”

“I’d get this truck packed before the new stuff gets here. Wanna give me a hand?”

–Gunn and Anne, Angel  S5 “Not Fade Away”.

There is another exchange, from the  end of the Angel episode “Epiphany”. Earlier, Angel had saved another character, Kate, from her suicide attempt, and after realizing that the good fight is worth it even if there is no hope for some cosmic reward, Angel decides to impart some wisdom to bring Kate hope. This scene is famous for Angel’s line,

“If nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do.”

It’s an interesting line, which sums up the existentialist philosophy present in both this show and it’s parent series, and it’s preceeded by Angel’s declaration that the Powers That Be don’t care what happens on earth, that there is no grand plan or redemption. He continues by saying that the smallest act of kindness is, therefore, the greatest thing in the world. This part of the scene is what is most remembered and cited by fans of the show.

However, the part that’s overlooked is Kate’s response. She notes that he had an epiphany, but actually disagrees with him, saying that she doesn’t believe that people on earth are left to fend for themselves, that the Powers That Be do, in fact, care. When Angel asks why she thinks that, unable to understand that perspective for himself due to the things he has been through, this is her response:

“Because I never invited you in.”

Angel is a vampire. In the beginning of the episode, Kate was unconscious on the floor, having had a lot to drink and then choosing to swallow pills, but she wasn’t dead. There was no way Angel should have been able to get into her apartment; he should’ve been prevented from getting through the front door by the mystical barrier that keeps all uninvited vampires from entering private residences. And yet he ran right in, without hesitation, and got her into the shower to revive her. He shouldn’t have been able to do it, but he did.

Because the Powers that Be were watching. Because they cared. Because they had a plan for Kate, and for Angel. They bent the rules to allow Angel to save Kate’s life.

There is a point. There is hope. And we must never give up doing the right thing, no matter how bleak life can get.

The quote from Lie To Me is particularly important, because it contains the one part of existentialist philosophy I do agree with. In the episode, Buffy’s old friend from her school in Los Angeles comes to visit her unexpectedly in Sunnydale. All seems well and good at first, but her friend is shown leading a secret club of vampire-wannabes, people who romanticize vampires without understanding what it truly means to be one of the soulless undead. He also goes behind Buffy’s back to make a deal with Spike, who, at the time, is Buffy’s enemy, a vampire who has killed two previous Slayers and wants to kill his third, as well as find a cure for his sick lover, Drusilla. If Ford (Buffy’s friend) leads Buffy to Spike, Spike will make him a vampire. Buffy eventually realizes that Ford has betrayed her, but plays along, realizing that the secret club is nothing more than a sacrifice on Ford’s part, with her as the main prize: he has tricked them into believing that Spike will make them immortal and powerful, when really, they’re just lambs for the slaughter. The reason for all of this, Ford admits, is that he was diagnosed with brain cancer, which is slowly eating away at him. He is in pain, scared to die, and he knows that his death will be extremely unpleasant. He wants to become a vampire so that he will never have to die, and he is willing to do anything to achieve that immortality. He insists that he has no choice. He must become a vampire; there is no other option.

Hence Buffy’s response,

“You have a choice.  You don’t have a good choice, but you have a choice.”

This highlights the notion of free will. Ford does have a choice, but he doesn’t understand that, and as his limited viewpoint has blinded him to other options, he has effectively robbed himself of other possible outcomes. In insisting that he has no choice, he has allowed himself to become a tool, a victim of circumstances. He has given up free will, has given up his own agency, and has resigned himself to being used, abused by whatever life throws at him. Buffy’s response that he does, indeed, have a choice, is to say that he does have free will, that he can make a different choice. Life has given him a sucky hand, but it’s up to him how he responds.

And that is a central theme of both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. Whatever happens to us, we have free will. We can choose to let ourselves be victims, or we can rise up and fight back. It’s all up to us. We can give up hope because things will never get better, or we can pack the truck. We might not always have a good choice, but we have a choice. Strong is fighting, hard, and we have to do it every day, but it’s in those moments when the chips are down that we find out who we are. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it, and living requires bravery.

In fact, here’s the full quote from “Amends”:

“Strong is fighting! It’s hard, and it’s painful, and it’s every day. It’s what we have to do, and we can do it together, but if you’re too much of a coward for that, then burn.”

In this case, for some context, Buffy is trying to convince Angel that the good fight is worth fighting, even when winning might not be possible, because evil always comes back. In this episode, a force called the First Evil (essentially the literal personification of evil, which is incorporeal and manipulates people by imitating the dead) has been manipulating Angel into committing suicide by taunting him with the crimes that he committed as Angelus. Angel is starting to believe that he will never find redemption, and that the best thing he can do is kill himself by waiting for the sunrise (again, the Powers That Be end up saving his life by making it snow so that the sun won’t come out that day). Buffy knows that Angel is a fighter, and is trying to convince him to keep going.

And, finally, here’s a quote that I left off the list above, from “Beginning: Part Two”, the season two finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s one of the series’s most iconic pieces of dialogue, from one of the most significant scenes of the series, where Buffy is fighting Angelus, the season’s true Big Bad (sorry, Spike). Angelus is Angel without a soul, or possibly Angel’s split personality, unleashed whenever Angel loses his soul, as opposed to Angel himself when he’s not held back by the soul (the two shows differ in their presentations of Angel/us). Either way, Angel, due to the curse that gave him his soul back, loses that soul if he has even a single moment of pure happiness, something that Buffy didn’t know, and possibly Angel himself, until after he’d lost it following their night of passion (the metaphor for men revealing themselves to not be who the girl thought they were after they have sex made literal, by having the man actually become someone else). Angelus has made it his personal mission to destroy Buffy as a punishment for making Angel feel human (as well as have the world sucked into a hell dimension), and here, he’s got her isolated and is taunting her, preparing to break her emotionally before killing her:

“No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away, and what’s left?”

And Buffy’s response, as she catches the sword blade between her hands with her eyes closed, is this:

“Me.”

Deprived of her weapons, cut off from her friends, with no hope of saving her boyfriend and very little hope of actually saving the world that time, she still has herself. It’s a great, empowering moment, the acknowledgement of inner strength that has nothing to do with outside forces. The last thing anyone can take from you is yourself, and Buffy refuses to give up her identity even in the face of losing everything else.

However, I’d like to take the moment to restate the lesson learned from Kate, in one of the few scenes the character is actually tolerable. Because, while the theme of personal empowerment, as shown above, is incredibly important, let’s not forget that, after all, there is a plan and a purpose for life.

“Because I never invited you in.”

You are strong. Even when the world seems like it’s ending, when it seems like you’ve lost everything else, you still remain. And you have a choice to make. To give up, surrender, and become a victim of your circumstances, or be strong, rise up, and fight back. Give up hope, or dig in and do what needs done. Strong is hard, painful, and we have to do it every day, but it’s in those moments when things are at their bleakest, when we choose how we’re going to respond, that we find out who we are. We’re not helpless puppets, after all. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it, and living requires bravery. And remember that you are not alone.

Now, there’s one last quote from Buffy that I’m going to use here, this from the series finale, “Chosen”:

“Are you ready to be strong?”

This is how Buffy inspired me. She was not a perfect person. She made plenty of mistakes. Even lots of diehard fans have complained about her tendency to be insufferably self-righteous. She had to figure out how to be the Chosen One (eventually, one of the Chosen Two), how to be the Slayer, how to fight monsters and save the world, but still be a girl. She was still a friend, a daughter, a sister, and so she carried stakes in her purse and went slaying in high heels and skirts. She worried about college, about her future, about jobs, about how to raise her sister, and she was concerned about her love life. And the apocalypse, which usually seems to happen in May. She had to figure out how to retain her humanity even when her duty as the Slayer seemed to be turning her into nothing but a weapon. And with plenty of pitfalls along the way, she remained strong.

Oh, and both shows were heavy with the girl power. Gotta love that.

Eowyn, The Lord of the Rings. She is the reason I got into the series in the first place. As a kid, I wasn’t interested in some movie (because they were being released at the time) about a little dude and an old dude and Santa’s helpers destroying some evil jewelry. It was my Dad telling me repeatedly that he thought I’d like it that finally persuaded me to watch it, still convinced that it’d be boring and I’d hate it, but wanting to get him to finally stop talking about it. The scene he cited as his reason for why I’d like The Lord of the Rings was the scene from The Return of the King in which Eoywn kills the Witch-King, someone who was so confident that no one could kill him. Why? Because no man could do it. He knew it, and it never occurred to him that a woman might be on the battlefield. Perhaps, even, he understood “man” to be “person”, like how “man” is often used in our world to stand for “mankind”, giving him the idea that absolutely no one could kill him. But, terrified as she was, she stood up to him. She fought him. And we all know what happens.

He boasts,

“No man can kill me.”

And she takes off her helmet, letting her hair fall down around her shoulders, and proclaims,

“I am no man!”

And then she stabs him in the face, and kills him.

This, after everyone telling her that she couldn’t fight, that she couldn’t handle being on the battlefield. That war is only for men. Despite her protests that she is a good warrior, that she fears neither death nor pain, and asks–by proxy–why she can’t also fight for those she loves, everyone would have told her to stay at the camp. Everyone thought she had, except Merry. But she fights. She holds her own. She does as good as the men.

And she kills the one person on the battlefield that none of the big, strong men could kill. If she hadn’t been there, the Witch-King would have lived, and the final assault, the battle at the Black Gate, probably would have been over much quicker, with the heroes all dead. If she had listened to the men–who all meant well, I understand–they would probably have lost the war. Killing the Witch-King was something only a woman could do. Not even Gandalf could have done it, the White Wizard, the person who is essentially a lesser angel sent to Middle-Earth. Only a woman could have done it. She needed to be there. She proved that women could kick as much ass as men, and then she killed the most deadly enemy on the battlefield.

“I am no man.”

Her ability to do it laid in the fact that she was a woman. Her power in that instance came from the fact that she was a woman. Her presence was necessary in that battle. Without her, winning would have been so much more difficult, perhaps even impossible.

These three women are, at least in my perspective, three of the most influential women in fiction, because of how the works chose to portray them. They altered the way that women were presented in media. The Lord of the Rings was published in the 1950s, twenty years before the feminist movement began. A New Hope was released in 1977, during the first wave of feminism. And Buffy the Vampire Slayer first aired on television in 1997, one of the first widely recognized examples of a strong female lead. The entire main premise of the series was from a feminist perspective, playing with conventional horror tropes in general and starting with the trope that the (usually blonde) woman who runs from the monsters always gets killed by them.

Joss Whedon wondered, “What if the girl actually kicked their asses and killed them?” One of the biggest themes throughout the show, from its initial conception, was that of female empowerment. The Vampire Slayer is always a woman. Men can participate in the fight against evil, and they do–Angel, Spike, Oz, Xander, Giles, Wesley, Doyle, Gunn, Lorne, Riley (as much as we all hate his existence)–but they are never the Slayer. Vampire Slayers were created by men, and are overseen by men (the metaphors for the patriarchy are extremely apparent, such as in the season three episode “Helpless”) but they depend on women to save the world. The Watcher’s Council depends on the Slayer to give their lives meaning, because without her, what are they watching? Who are they overseeing? Buffy uses this power to her advantage in the season five episode “Checkpoint”, exploiting their need for her to their advantage, showing that she is the one who will call the shots because she is the one who is indispensable. And ultimately, it’s a woman–Willow–who uses magic to activate all Potential Slayers, leading up to the quote I used from “Chosen”:

“So here’s the part where you make a choice. What if you could have that power now? In every generation, one Slayer is born, because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. They were powerful men. This woman is more powerful than all of them combined. So I say we change the rule. I say my power should be our power. Tomorrow, Willow will use the essence of this scythe to change our destiny. From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer, will be a Slayer. Every girl who could have the power, will have the power. Can stand up, will stand up. Slayers, every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?”

“Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?”

Buffy’s themes of choice/free will and empowerment come together perfectly in this quote.

Leia, Buffy, and Eowyn were all strong women, fighters, who stood up for what they believed and fought evil. Their gender was not an impediment–in fact, for Buffy and Eowyn, it was their strength. Leia was never shown to be strong because she was a woman–her gender was never given as the reason why she was a leader. However, despite that, all three women showed that they could be warriors, could be leaders and be a woman. Their gender did not get in the way of what they did, and what they did did not make them any less of a woman. Their gender and their duties were not mutually exclusive. They still wore cool outfits. They still had friends, family, and love interests. They were still feminine. But Leia was also a spy and a Rebel leader, Buffy was still the Slayer, and Eowyn was a swordmaiden of Rohan. They were not perfect people, but they never gave up.

They all chose to be strong.

Spring Is In the Air

Blue skies smiling at me, gentle sunshine on my skin, pink blossoms floating in the breeze–yeah, spring is pretty. I love seeing all the different colors that the light shows. That may seem ironic to some of you, and maybe it is, but it’s still true. To anyone who thinks that fall is my favorite season because of Halloween, I’m not actually sure if I have a favorite season. Also, my favorite holiday is probably Christmas. I mean, I love Halloween. I do like the spookiness. It’s also the one night a year that you can be anything you want, where you can dress up and no one thinks you’re weird for it. Also, free candy; I refuse to believe that someone can get too old for free candy. It’s candy. People generally like candy. And you don’t have to pay money for it. People generally like things that they don’t have to pay for (especially if, as a broke college student, you don’t really have a lot of money to begin with). So, free candy means you can get a sugar fix without spending money you don’t have at the store. And people are willing to give you the candy.

Where’s the problem, again? I mean, sure, make sure it hasn’t been rewrapped or that there’s nothing sketchy about it, but seriously. People want to give you free candy on Halloween. That means M&Ms for movie nights with friends that you didn’t have to shell out money for.

Still, though, Christmas.

Anyway.

What’s new with me?

I just finished a term at RCC. I was taking four classes, for 15 credits, and I’m expecting pretty good grades from all of them. There’s only one that I’m concerned about, but I’m anticipating an A in two others, and at least a B in another. I’m hoping to get my GPA back up; I screwed up on a few classes the last two terms I was at RCC, after I came back following my SOU misadventure, but even still, my GPA going into this term was 3.4. It’s been a 4.0, and I’d like to get it back up to the 3.75 range at least. Anyway, yeah, my math class didn’t suck (and was my last math class ever!), and my two sociology classes were great. It’s my online rock music class that I’m a little worried about, but I think I’ll pass, at the very least. I don’t intend on going back to RCC, though, since there’s nothing this upcoming term that I want to take for my degree, and nothing I want to take in general (well, there’s one class I’d consider, but that’s not enough incentive for me). And I’ve gotten my financial aid mistake mostly corrected now, so this last term will be covered after all, which is a relief.

I’m looking for a job. Now that I’m not going to be attending RCC, I can work full time, although I’d consider getting two part-time jobs, depending on what jobs they are. Like, if I end up a waitress or a busser at Red Robin, say (it’s one of the places I’m checking out), I only want to do four or five hours a day there. My food service shifts at Cannon Beach were about 4-5 hours long, if I was on wait staff, and while I liked food service the best, by the end of my shift, I was ready to head back to River House, change clothes, and chill with friends for the evening. Working at an actual restaurant would be different, with probably some adjustment required on my end, which is fine, and I don’t know if those changes would make the job easier or harder than wait staff in CB–or maybe it’ll be the same amount of work, just in different ways. So, that said, I only want four or five hour shifts–which means I could always try to work somewhere else. I’ve heard Dutch Bros is hiring, as well as Albertson’s and Grocery Outlet; I’m also going to look into Hellgate, since they’re probably opening soon to take people down the river. However, my top two picks, partly due to work type and proximity to home, are Red Robin and Planet Fitness. Planet Fitness also has the benefit of having other locations up in the Portland area, and I’m sure Red Robin probably does, too, so if I don’t get a work study deal, I could always transfer to a different location and keep my job; I could transfer schools and not have to look for work, which would be nice. Plus, you know, with Planet Fitness, I could probably get back into shape. I’m happy to say that I haven’t put on a lot of weight since I stopped taking kickboxing (I was 116; I’m now about 121). So, just a few pounds, and I don’t think it shows much, but still, I’d like to get stronger.

I’m in the process of applying for George Fox, which is what I’m really excited about right now. I’ve filled out the applications, and once my final grades are in, RCC will send a copy of my transcript to them (I’m guessing that will be either today or tomorrow). In early April, I’ll be staying at the school overnight for a Bruin Preview, so I’ll get to know the school in person. I’ll be transferring as a junior, or close to, because George Fox actually complies with the AAOT program (which is not something the program mentions, according to my memory, in order to keep more money in the public university system) that I’ve been working on. Also, because it’s a private school, there’s less students, which means they can give each student more financial aid than a public university school, so between financial aid at George Fox (this is excluding loans) and my VA benefits, I could be completely covered. I will finally be working towards my actual degree, a Bachelor’s in Film Production! I may consider a minor in Sociology, if one is offered (I haven’t looked into it yet, but I enjoy sociology, and there’s a few classes there that look interesting to me). There’s a few clubs I’m interested in joining, as well as a few outreach programs, and I want to look into club sports as well. Not that I really care to be a team player or do any competitions, but I’m hoping there’s some self-defense clubs I could get into, since I really miss kickboxing and I’ve been told I’d enjoy jujitsu. Also, if I time my trips right, I’d be an hour’s bus ride from Portland (time it wrong, and it’s more like 2 hours). I’ve read that it’s cheaper to drive ($3 vs $5, but I’m not sure how they calculate that), but if I drove, I’d have to figure out parking, and would probably have to pay for it, so I’d sorta rather find a seat on the bus, put my headphones in, and try not to get fed up about having to stop at every. Single. Block. Even if there’s nobody actually waiting there. That was the annoying part about taking the bus into Seattle, by the way. Portland is a good place for the arts, so getting to study film while being so much closer to the city will be nice. There could be some good internship opportunities there, which means connections. Plus, a city means museums, exhibits, and fairs we don’t have here, as well as cultural events in general. It means more things to go do, and more diversity. I wonder what things I’d get to try, given the opportunity; getting out of my comfort zone can be really uncomfortable for me, but I also enjoy experiencing different cultures. Not that I’ve had a lot of experience with it, but if you think southern California isn’t a very different thing than southern Oregon, you’d be very wrong. Also, I’d be several hours closer to my friends in Cannon Beach, and I miss those guys daily. We could all take the buses into the city and meet there. Plus, did you know there’s this little-known bookstore in Portland called Powell’s Books? It’s a nice place to spend an hour or two in. And, spiritually, I think going to George Fox would be a very good thing for me. I need mandatory spiritual immersion–and by that, I basically mean I need to be required to go, or else I’ll find some reason to skip out. It’s not always the case, since I’m not technically required to go to my current Bible studies (technically. As in, my parents would be upset if I skipped out and, honestly, I would, too, because I know I need to go, and I do need some social interaction, although it’s not my first inclination to seek it out), but if I had to go to a class for a grade? If it was required that I attend a Bible study or church service to attend? Yeah, that’d be nice. Every step I’ve made towards attending George Fox has gone well, and I’ve been praying about it, so I hope that this is God’s will, and that the smooth process is a sign of that.

So, yeah, those are the big things going on in my life right now. It’s been a few months since I last gave an update; the last thing I posted was in honor of International Woman’s Day. Before that, it was “Sleepless in Seattle”, and a lot has changed since then. I mean, I’m single now, and have been for approximately a month and a half. Definitely a change.

No worries about that, guys, for anyone who still doesn’t know what happened. There’s no reason to be angry with Jonny. I broke up with him, but he left me first–that’s true. But there was no ill will on his part; he knew he wasn’t treating me right due to his depression and felt bad about it. I think his intent was to let me go so that I would no longer be mistreated and he could focus more on getting better; he just didn’t handle things well, and so he ended up ignoring me most of the time, including on Valentine’s Day. Dumb move, yes. But well-intended. I don’t hate him, and never have. I still believe he has all the potential to be a good man, and God is taking care of him; Jonny is going to be just fine, and I’ve heard he’s already getting better, which makes me so proud, happy, and relieved. He’s still someone I’m glad I knew, I wish him all the best, and I hope that one day, we can make amends, and even be friends.

Let’s face it. I ship Will and Marci. While my hopes about my own relationship with Jonny were, ultimately, misplaced, I still believe they’re meant for each other. And so, when they finally do get married (okay, so maybe “if” they get married is a safer option, yes, but dang it, they just seem so great for each other….), I don’t want any awkwardness as a result of Jonny and I. No fretting about who sits where, or anything like that. Plus, we share friends anyway, regardless of if/when Marci get married, and so, in general, I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable, like the two of us can’t be in the same room or something.

I guess the summary of that is: I don’t want what went down between Jonny and I to create lasting drama among our friends.

So, for those of you out there who are the praying type, like me, you might want to add Jonny to your prayer list. I know he’s on some of yours. But he needs it, and I’d appreciate it, for his sake. I’m working on no longer being in love with him, but I do still care about him. So, yeah, that’s part of my prayer request: that Jonny continues to get the help he needs so that he can get better.

As for myself? Guidance. Discipline. I mean, I’m trying to find a job, figure out school, continue writing–and I need to know how I’m supposed to do all those things, and then have the discipline to actually do them. So, yeah.

Just thought I’d give an update. =) I’ll let you know how things turn out.

**Author’s Note: My Bachelor’s would actually be in Cinema and Media Communication, with a concentration in Film and Video Production. There is also, indeed, a Sociology minor, which I’d have to look into; the major, at least, offers three different concentrations, which I don’t know would be offered as a minor: Community and Families, Global & Cultural Studies, and Social Justice & Inequality. I’ll have to see if they’re offered as a minor, and which one has the most of the classes I’m interested in (I typed up a list somewhere).

Happy International Womans’ Day

Here’s to all the courageous women throughout the world who stand up for gender equality. Hopefully, one day we will live in a world where everyone is treated equal, free from oppression. “Nevertheless, she persisted.”

Also, RIP, Carrie Fisher. I can’t use a photo of you without saying it. Your role as Princess Leia inspired me. She taught me that princesses could be strong, that princesses could be leaders, and that princesses can kick ass. She taught me that none of those things meant that I was any less of a woman for doing them. The way people of all kinds answered to Leia without commenting on the fact that she was a woman, like it didn’t occur to them and didn’t matter, is amazing to me. In a world of sleeping curses and glass slippers, here was a princess who was a diplomat, who was a spy for the Rebellion, who talked back to Darth Vader and Tarkin, who withstood torture, who watched her planet and her family be destroyed, and who took charge of her own rescue when the boys couldn’t do it right. Here was a princess who helped lead an army. In short, here was a strong woman whose gender was never made to be a barrier to doing what she wanted and needed to. You inspired me, and so many others around the world, and you will continue to.

 

Sleepless In Seattle

For the record, I slept fine in Seattle; I just struggle to come up with fun titles.

Wow, okay. Where to begin? The second part of my trip went by so fast.

Well, this story starts in San Diego, actually. The morning of January 1st, 2017, was pretty slow. Slept in, packed a lot, ate a little. Scott, Ju, and eventually Lucas came over; so did Mike and Jenny. Mike had actually stopped by the night before, by the way, to spend time with the family and give Jonny and I each a copy of a book that he’d thought of after our conversation the night before; I also noticed Scott lend Mike a CD based off the same conversation. That’s one of the things I like about them, actually; not just do they talk about ideas and concepts, but then the next day, one of them will say something like, “By the way, I was thinking about our conversation and it occurred to me that you might be curious to listen to this CD.” You can also tell that they really think about the things they talk whenever there’s something big to discuss, that their perspectives, regardless of whether or not you agree, come from a lot of reflection and consideration. Ben and Jonny helped Grandma Lois take down Christmas decorations. It was a really chill morning, and goodbyes were hard. I really miss those people, and I hope to see them again.

Grandma Lois took Jonny, Michelle, Ben, and I to the airport, where we checked in, and then she came back to drop off Ben’s hat and take us to Point Loma. She’d wanted me to see it the entire trip, and we had time. We stopped at some Nazarene Bible college to see the view, and it was gorgeous.

Actually, let me backtrack a little. January 1st, 2017 actually started with this:

The best way to bring in the new year =) Photo credit goes to Ben, who got a picture of Jonny and I under the mistletoe; I didn’t post it because Jonny wasn’t comfortable with it. He consented to letting me share this one, though. The mistletoe picture story was funny, though, because Ben and I conspired to trick Jonny into it, which failed. He was trying to help Grandma Lois clean up after we’d all opened presents, following Michelle’s orders, and he wasn’t cluing into how I kept trying to stop him for a moment. Finally, Ben and I just decided to tell Jonny we wanted the picture; he said he was trying to help clean up, and I insisted it’d only take a few moments. When I jokingly said it was almost like he didn’t want to kiss me, he said I knew that wasn’t true, and kissed me.

The New Year’s Eve photo was planned with Jonny’s advanced notice. I like both pictures.

Now, back to the view:

It was sunset! I got to see the sun set over the ocean in southern California! And I got to see it with my boyfriend! It was pretty….

After that, Grandma Lois took us all out to Point Loma, showing us the cemetery as we drove by and pointing out the submarine training center at the bottom of the hill. Michelle pointed out two cargo ships, told me to look beyond them, and informed me that I was looking at Tijuana. Yeah, stuff like that surprised me the entire time I was there, with people saying they could see the Mexican border from their house and hearing that the border was only eighteen or thirteen miles away. I mean, I knew San Diego was in southern California, but I was continually amazed at the idea of just how close I was to another country, at just how very ‘south’ I was. And looking into Tijuana, I realized I was actually looking into Mexico. I could see another country while still in my own. It was a totally cool experience.

Grandma Lois took us back to the airport and we said our final farewells to her before going to get dinner at Jack In the Box. It wasn’t bad, though I’m not a fan of the place. TSA took a little long, because one of my bags got pulled for extra screening, and so did one of Jonny’s. The scanner picked up my book and thought it was suspicious due to its size, I guess, and it also didn’t like Jonny’s water bottle. I also heard that one of the TSA employees was being trained, and so I think some of the extra security measures were for his benefit. I had just enough time to pick up a shot glass for my collection and a bottle of water for Jonny and I before we boarded the plane. I tried to sleep throughout the flight, having taken more Dramamine, but there was a baby sitting behind me, and so what I remember most from the flight was validation of my earlier theory: there should be separate flights for people with children under, like, age seven. It’s hard to sleep with a baby fussing right behind you. However, I did realize that the family was Christian, because I heard the Dad sing “Jesus Loves Me”, which softened my attitude towards them considerably. The flight was also longer due to the weather, and when we landed in Seattle, there was snow shoveled along the runway, and air traffic control was trying to land, like, ten planes because all the incoming flights had gotten delayed.

I think all three of the next photos are parting photos of San Diego:

I also tried to get photos of Seattle before we landed, but none of them turned out.

The airport was chaos, but eventually Laurie arrived and picked us up. Driving through Seattle reinforced for me just how happy I was to be back, and eventually, we made it back to Michelle and Laurie’s place. All of us went right to bed–I had the guest room–and the next day, Jonny and I took the bus into Seattle to meet Chris and Juli for lunch at the Space Needle. That was a really great time. The sky was clear and sunny, so we had a beautiful view of the city. The food was also delicious–one of the best burgers I’ve ever had. And, of course, the company was great. I feel like a popular trend of my trip was “getting to have interesting conversations with awesome people”. Talking about respect, how to care for people, interpersonal interaction, and what we desire out of future job experiences–it was fun.

Jonny and I took the bus back to Michelle’s place, having postponed our excursion with Bree and Josie because Jonny’s head was still a little messed up from apparently having gotten a minor cold on the flight and Bree had recently been in a car accident (losing traction on an icy road and going into a ditch when her brakes failed, is my understanding–she’s fine, but sore). Back at his mom’s, we grabbed our bags and drove over to his dad’s in time for dinner. Neither of us ended up having any dinner, I think, while Jonny and I did each get a small Christmas gift, and then Ben came back with Abigail (he’d taken her out to dinner, although I’d been under the impression they were going to get dinner for all of us). Abigail is very sweet, and taught us all how to play Pinochle, which in my mind also showed her skills at strategic planning, because we played with open hands for the first few rounds so she could show each of us what the best moves to make were until we understood the game enough for ourselves. Jonny ended up going to bed early because the anti-cold medicine was making him loopy, and eventually, Ben drove Abigail home. I spent the rest of the evening talking to Juli, which was a nice time. She’s an easy person to talk to, and it’s very apparent that she’s a teacher, which gives her an interesting perspective. We all then went to sleep–I had the guest room downstairs.

The next day was Ben’s 17th birthday, and the day that Jonny and I got to go into Seattle to meet Bree and Josie. Jonny considers Bree to be like a younger sister, and he told me about her fairly early on in our relationship so that if I ever saw him texting her, I wouldn’t think he was cheating on me. He’d never met Josie, but he’s a friend of Bree’s, so he was cool with him coming along, and wanted to make sure I was. I said I didn’t care. Anyway, so, Jonny and I took the bus into Seattle and walked down to Pike’s Market from the convention center. We ended up spending around an hour in this awesome comic book store until it was time to meet up with Bree and Josie, who had run a bit late. Jonny told me to be on the lookout for an adorable little redhead, and after a minute or two of scanning, I did indeed see a redhead start waving excitedly in our general direction, at which point, Jonny started walking over to greet her.

Bree, by the way, is older than I expected, about 19. I knew Jonny had met her in 8th grade, but considering he’d always said he thought of her as a younger sister, I suppose I figured she was more closer to Ben’s age. I’m not sure how old Josie is, though I’d guess he’s a little older.

The four of us found a Chinese restaurant at the market and ate there for lunch. I decided I liked both Bree and Josie pretty much right away, though I’d been inclined to like her in general just because I trust Jonny’s judgement and I’d been wanting to meet her. She’s nice, energetic, and very friendly. Josie is by comparison calm and laid back. Both of them are very easy people to spend time with. And they, thankfully, liked me back, and they give Jonny and I their support.

The four of us walked to the bus stop and took the bus to Capitol Hill to shop around. We stopped into Blick, an art store, and then walked down to Mishu, which is where Jonny got a jacket for me for Christmas. It didn’t quite fit me, being too small, and we’d been intending to stop in there to exchange it for a larger size. When we got there, we found out that was the only size they had, and so with Bree’s help–I didn’t know her well enough to protest–I ended up getting a black vest instead. It’s got a hood and short sleeves, and it appears that both the sleeves and the hood can be zippered off, so that’s fun. I can play with it and wear it different ways. Also, as a side note, wasn’t there a character in Mulan whose name was Mishu? I’ve never seen the movie, admittedly, so I don’t know, but it sounds familiar.

After a brief detour at US Bank, we then stopped into the New York Xchange. I’d been excited to go there–and Jonny had been excited to take me there–for a while, and boy, was I not disappointed. It’s a gothic clothing store, and it’s so much fun. I walked in, and it was like CandyLand. I tried on the dress that Jonny had wanted to get me for Christmas (before realizing it was more expensive than our agreed-upon budget for each other), and he liked it. I also tried on a few shirts, and a pair of black leather pants, because why not? They were far more comfortable than I’d expected them to be, and I decided that if they weren’t so long and if they were tighter in the leg, they’d actually look good on me. Bree tried on a dress (which looked good on her, whatever she said), and Jonny tried on a few things, but Josie said he was too self-conscious. I really liked the vest and the jacket I tried on, but wanted to be mindful of the money I had left–and, besides, being a clothing store for goths, not much there was, I felt, conservative enough to not scare anyone back at home. Which was a huge bummer, because I really liked a lot of things there (Bree and Josie suggested I just move to Seattle, which honestly, I’m okay with). I ended up getting a silver cuff bracelet, nothing overtly spooky, something I really did like but also knew wasn’t going to make anyone uncomfortable.

I think we must have spent an hour or two in that store. It was so great, and I want to go back. I’m jealous of Jonny and Bree, because for them, that store is about an hour-ish away on the 522 (I think that’s the bus’s number).

After that, we walked down to the Starbucks Reserve. It’s not the original Starbucks, which is down by Pike’s Market, but it’s the place where you can watch them grind the beans and stuff, and it’s more high-end. We ended up getting some drinks to share, all of which were really tasty. It was a fun time, a touristy thing that, apparently, I had to do–Bree’s words, by the way.

Having had some tasty coffee and taking more to-go, we walked back down to the bus to make it back in time so that Jonny and I could go watch Ben’s basketball game, something I’d been looking forward to. I know very little about basketball, not really being much into team sports–although I do enjoy going to football and baseball games–but I wanted to support him. However, the bus ran late and it was extremely crowded, which also meant it was very hot (especially since it was cold out, so the heat was on). The end result was that I overheated very quickly, and spent the entire bus ride (roughly an hour) feeling sick. We got back to the bus stop at the college, where I walked around with no jacket on in freezing weather and it felt wonderful despite being chilly, and after going to the bathroom, I realized that the floor looked like it was moving in waves, and so Jonny helped me walk to Bree’s car. The cold, as well as going to the bathroom, helped me feel much better, though I still felt weird in the head, with the wavy-floor thing going away. She dropped us off at Chris and Juli’s, at which point we realized we’d missed the game. I went and laid down, having recovered enough to feel like talking again and wanting heat, while Jonny went upstairs to work on writing thank-you letters on his typewriter.

He was great throughout the experience, by the way. He didn’t hover and wasn’t clingy, but he checked on me to see how I was feeling, and when I told him that the floor didn’t look stable, he kept an arm around my shoulders the entire way to the car to help me walk. He asked me how I was doing, wanted to know what I wanted, and didn’t seem to get annoyed when I couldn’t give him what I felt like was a good answer–because, when I told feel well, I generally just have to lay down and rest before figuring stuff like that out. When I told him that I wasn’t sure and just wanted to go back to the house to lie down, worried he wouldn’t find that specific or helpful enough, he just said okay, that we’d be back soon. I think he kept his hand on my leg, rubbing my knee, the entire car ride, helped me to the house, and then checked on me once I was in bed, letting me know he’d be upstairs. He checked on me and took care of making sure his folks knew we’d missed the game.

I love him. I mean, I already knew that, but you know how things happen and you realize that you love someone all over again? Like, it just hits you, “Wow, I really, really love that guy”? He was really good at taking care of me.

Juli asked me what I learned about Jonny on the trip, how my desire to never be a burden on others impacts my relationship with him, and honestly, I was reminded of something Michelle had said earlier that day: “It’s okay to ask.” I hate asking for things. I had questions during the trip, some of which I didn’t feel like I could ask–not because of Jonny, but because of myself, because I was worried about how he’d respond. Not because he’d ever given me reason to worry, necessarily–it wasn’t about him, but how I was perceiving him in light of wanting to ask questions. I knew he wouldn’t be upset or impatient, but I wasn’t feeling that way, not because of anything he did (although sometimes his single-word replies feel a little brusque, which isn’t anything he does intentionally) but because of my own fears about imposing on someone. I carried my suitcase up the stairs at Michelle’s house when we got there because I didn’t feel like I could ask, even though I knew I could. Michelle told me it’s okay to ask Jonny for things, for information, to ask him to carry my bag for me, that asking him to carry my bag wouldn’t make me seem weak (which was also part of my problem– “strong, independent woman, hear me roar, I can do it myself, I don’t need a man to carry a bag for me”).

Another thing I learned was that I can’t let him get away with stuff. And by that I mean, like, lack of communication. Sometimes, he dominates conversations, turning them more into monologues. I do it, too, which is partly why I don’t call him on it much–sometimes I’ll gently squeeze his leg and give him a meaningful look, but that’s it. I feel it’s hypocritical, and for another thing, I know he doesn’t do it on purpose. Like me, he gets on a track and doesn’t stop or slow down. He gets excited to talk about something, and just doesn’t stop until he’s finished. It’s part of his Asperger’s, and I know it’s not his fault, so I’ve always felt a little weird calling him on it. But, like, when I asked what we were doing at the airport when we got to San Diego and I knew we were waiting for his mom–because that part was obvious, and what I wanted was detail, was elaboration–he just said “waiting” and didn’t even look back at me. Sometimes, he takes off walking and it may not occur to him that, being shorter, I might not necessarily be keeping up. He might start telling me something I already know like I don’t already know it–which, again, is something I know I struggle with doing as well, and so, again, feel like if I say anything to him about it, I’d be a hypocrite. I just remind myself, in those situations, that he knows I know it already–as evidenced, often, by the fact he’ll say it himself–but that he’s just reminding me because he cares. However, now I know two things: I need to get over those habits myself, and I can’t let him do it anymore, either. I know it’s not his fault. I know he’s not trying to seem insensitive, but he can still come across that way. I know he’s just genuinely clueless, not intentionally harsh. But it’s not good for me, and it’s also not good for him, either. He genuinely struggles with social skills. He’s come a long way, which I remind myself of, and I want to help him continue to.

And I’ve got the okay from both his mom and his stepmom.

Anyway, I ended up feeling better around the time that they got back from the game, at which point they left to go to Bible study. I went upstairs to eat the rest of my burger from the other day and worked on figuring out things for school while Jonny came up with a birthday letter for Ben. A little while after Chris and Juli came back, Jonny and I started watching NCIS (something he discovered he actually liked while staying in GP), and eventually we realized we were up far too late–seriously, I was like, “Wait, episode 20? I thought we started with episode 13. Where did the other 7 episodes go? Oh, wait, we watched them…in one sitting…Oh.” I haven’t pulled a binge like that I started watching Buffy and Angel, about a year ago. But when the next episode starts in just 20 seconds, and it’s so much fun….

The next day was pretty slow. I packed, showered, texted both my Mom and Juli, and spent time on YouTube. Of course, the part that wasn’t slow was saying good-bye to Jonny. We weren’t sure if that was actually going to be “good-bye” because he was planning to crash an ASL class; he hadn’t gotten in, but he really wanted to take it, so his plan was to show up and see if he could sit in on the class. If he couldn’t, he was going to go back home and take me to the airport. However, that good-bye actually ended up being good-bye. It hurt, it was sad, it was beautiful in tragedy–it was a girl saying goodbye to the man she loves very, very much. I don’t think elaboration is required.

Ben drove me to Chris’s office, which was a nice trip, and then after a good-bye hug from Ben, Chris drove me to the airport. After another hug, I checked in at the airport, got through TSA with a broken toenail (which broke in the process of accidentily breaking the heel of my other boot–I was trying to push the boot off and…snap… It’s not bad, though–my nail, that is. I sincerely hope my boot can be fixed, because I love those boots. They’re black combat boots–how can I not love them?), and then…waited. The flight was supposed to board at 4:20 and leave at 5:00; it was then postponed until 4:30 and 5:10, respectively. Ultimately, we didn’t board until 5:25-ish and leave until about 5:45. I later found out that, apparently, the pilot’s flight was late out of another city due to weather, and then his plane–not the one we were on–had to get de-iced. We landed in Medford around 7:20, I got a happy reunion with my parents–did I mention that was my first time ever flying alone?–and then at 8:00 we finally got my suitcase, because baggage claim took forever. It took around an hour to get home due to the weather and a McDonald’s stop (I never got dinner, because of flight delays, and hadn’t eaten much beforehand, so I finished Mom’s leftovers in the car and then got two cheeseburgers, a few fries, and a cookie). Grants Pass was like a frozen ghost town, with nobody out and basically everywhere closed; McDonald’s was closing just as we were pulling through, so we were the last customers. That was about 9:00.

And now I’m home and registered for four classes, which brings me a total of 15 credits. I’m planning to work part-time as well. Things will stay busy for me, just in a different way.

It was a wonderful trip, and I’m so happy I got to go. It’s probably one of my favorite trips ever. I really miss everyone, especially Jonny.

Soarin’ California: Part Two

Wow, it’s been a crazy few days! I’ll try to remember everything, but I make no promises.

Well, the day before yesterday, Jonny and I spent a few hours at the zoo. Am I really a zoo person? No. However, it’s the San Diego Zoo; it’s a big deal, and an experience I couldn’t get anywhere else, so I went–and it was a great time. Grandma Lois drove Jonny and I there around 10, and got a picture of the two of us in front of the entrance.

Jonny wasn’t horribly inclined to get a picture taken, but I was, and he was a good sport about it. =)

I ate a bit as we walked, intending to see all the big cats, because come on! Sure, with one swipe of a paw, they could pretty much tear your face off and they’re large killing predators by nature, but KITTY! A kitty that looks like it’d be really soft and comfy to cuddel with, provided it wasn’t trying to maul you to death. How could we pass up a chance to squeal like loons over them? Tigers and panthers and mountain lions…oh, my! I’m very happy at the prospect that, in heaven, I’ll get to pet them and play with them.

We saw tons of animals, which is fitting and not surprising, since it’s a zoo. It’s hard for me to remember all of them, especially since some of them were animals I hadn’t really heard of before (seriously, how many people have heard of a tapir?). But we did see the polar bears, and an alligator (or was it a crocodile?), and a turtle. Jonny’s favorite exhibit is probably the elephants, because it’s very large and well-planned, and he thinks that capybaras are really cute. I think they’re the ones that look like large beavers, and they are sorta adorable. Of course, Jonny and I have somewhat differing ideas of what “cute” means; he believes large snakes qualify, while I think they are somewhat unnerving and definitely impressive. I’m willing to concede that far smaller, more colorful snakes do look somewhat cute, like they’re smiling almost, and now Jonny’s intending to one day get a snake and name it something atrocious (his word, not mine, though I agree), like El Diablo. ~facepalm~ Oh, well.

Because, yes, I did go into the Reptile House. I wasn’t intending to, but I figured, why not? And some of the snakes weren’t actually that scary.

We did see giraffes, zebras, and kangaroos, now that I think about it, and reindeer. That one was a bit of a surprise. There were also various monkeys and birds.

Sadly, I only got two other pictures from the zoo, one of which was for Tugboat. I just didn’t think about it while walking around. Partly because I was concerned with finding shade, drinking water, and not burning to death because of the flaming fiery death orb in the sky, usually called the sun. The zoo was surprisingly shady, but anyone who knows me (I think) knows that I don’t hold up well in heat and sunshine.

I got a picture of the turtle I saw for Poppa. I hope it wasn’t in the tank for the alligator’s (crocodile’s?) food. Poor turtle. Live long, little dude.

And the polar bear picture was for Tugboat, because the man has a thing for what he considers to be dogs, but are really small bears. Okay, really, they are dogs, they’re just huge. Jonny and I like to tease him about this, so both of us ended up taking pictures of the polar bear, knowing Tugboat would probably be very happy to see one. Tugboat’s response when I posted the picture on Facebook was, indeed, enthusiastic, which made me happy. Tugboat is a great dude.

Grandma Lois picked us up around 1-1:30, and when we got back to the house, Jonny and I both decided it’d be a good idea to take a nap (I think), so Jonny went out to the trailer. We got up in time to head over to the Hills’ (Steve Hill is Michelle’s cousin) for dinner. They live somewhere on the other side of town, they have a pet hedgehog named Nigel, and they’re a family with two daughters, one of which is a year or two older than me, and the other, a year or two younger. Very nice people, though I’m still hazy on names (which is not due to them–I just struggle with names in general, and I haven’t found a good way to remember them all yet). Dinner was pizza, and it was tasty, except there were more mushrooms on my slice than I realized, and afterward, we all went out back to the fire pit and talked for a long time. One of the things I really like about everyone here is that conversations are always interesting, or usually interesting, about things like philosophy, ethics, and politics.

That’s the view from their living room. I spent a good several minutes just staring out at it. Can you imagine just being able to see that from your house? All those lights, all those people that must be there? What possibilities, discoveries, and adventures? It’s all such a mystery, and it’s fascinating–not to mention pretty.

Eventually, Michelle, Jonny, and I left to go to the airport to pick up Ben, who could be spotted from a few yards away with a car between us, because the guy is, like 6′ 6″ or 6′ 8″. He’s also very much Jonny’s brother, which so far has always taken me by surprise when I see him–not because I forget they’re brothers, but because I’m not used to seeing brothers very much. I mean, I see my Dad and Poppa, but I guess I’m used to them (and Poppa always seems more like Selby, while Dad might seem more like Mike). But Jonny and Ben are brothers. They’re like complete opposites who are exactly the same; as Ben later put it, they’re both gingerbread houses, but they’re decorated as opposites. Ben is tall, energetic, prefers lighter colors, and can quite possibly talk even more than Jonny. He barely stopped talking from the moment we picked him up to the moment we got out of the car back at the house, and I started to wonder how much he ever took a breath. But, seriously, the dude is great and I decided I liked him about right away. True to what I’d been told, one of the first things he started talking about was Abigail, his girlfriend, and it’s totally obvious that he loves her and she makes him happy, and I completely ship them. One of the other first things he said, turning around to face me, was that he’d only been in the car for, like, three seconds, and already he can tell that Jonny and I are perfect for each other. Something about me essentially being his female counterpart, except not quite, but counterpart certainly, and something about chaos. I got a good laugh over it, appreciating the sentiment, and finding it an interesting point of view. I’d never really considered myself the counterpart to Jonny–we’re certainly similar in many respects, which is partly how we get along so well, but “Jonny with different anatomy” was never how I’d think about myself. Still isn’t, but hey, it just goes to show we understand each other well. Ben also, later, told me that he’s never really known me, just heard about me from Jonny, and now is realizing that I could be his sister one day, that he’s never had a sister, and it’s cool. And I had to smile, because it was occurring to me that Ben could totally be like a brother, so I agreed. I asked if I could meet Abigail, wondering to myself if that was okay to ask of a near stranger, and he said that yes, absolutely, he hoped I’d get to meet her.

Yeah, he’s cool. I love the guy. Seriously, I like everyone here. Do I always know how to talk to them or what to say? No. I even have that problem with people I’ve known for years, though. It’s nothing about them. I like them, I just don’t always know how to have a conversation with them. So, yeah, I like everyone here, and I hope they know that.

Yesterday was Christmas 2.0, which initially took me by surprise. I didn’t know we’d be doing Christmas-y things during this trip, really, so I hadn’t gotten anything for anyone, but I was assured I didn’t have to. So, what ended up being a surprise was that people got me stuff. Again, since I’m still not really known by them, and they probably picked stuff out, for all I know, before they met me (hence, still a complete stranger), I wasn’t expecting it. I mean, this is a family thing, right? So, now I really feel like they like me and want me around, which is a really, really nice feeling.

Big hugs! ~beams~

I got some art supplies, which was really nice, and a poetry book, along with some candy. I also got a hat (!), and, as you know, I like those. I do think it’s fair to say, though, that my favorite gifts were from Jonny, since he’s my boyfriend.

Am I one for cat ears? No. But it’s really comfy, and Jonny got it for me, so I’ll wear it happily. Plus, it’s the right color, and check out the decorations! There’s a little heart, and some chains, and a skull and crossbones, and safety pins! I’ve been wanting to get some safety pins (or find them somewhere…) for a while. They’re an anti-fascist symbol. Also, come to think of it, he sometimes calls me “kitten”, so I guess the cat ears are fitting. And how am I ever going to pass up cool skull earrings? Yeah, Jonny did good. I never doubted him, even for a second. Like I said, he gets me pretty well. For him, I’ll wear cat ears. Who knows, maybe they’ll grow on me; I hope so.

Jonny, Ben, and I watched cartoons upstairs for a while afterwards, and Lucas popped in and out. One thing I’m glad I’m learning is that cartoons really aren’t bad; I mean, some of them probably suck, but I got into the mindset that they’re just for kids. And then you watch something like The Amazing World of Gumball (or whatever the heck it’s called) and it deals with parenting and censorship, as well as related topics, and the paradox of the future (if you know what’s coming, can you change  it or is it set in stone, so that any action you take to prevent it will result in that future happening?), and you realize that it’s actually pretty adult. It may not look like it on the surface, but some cartoons actually deal with lots of ethical and philosophical concepts.

At a little before 2, Jonny left to go meet some dudes he’s talked to through TV Tropes at Balboa Park, and Ben told him that he was going to go shopping, and I was going with him. I agreed, despite not remembering actually being in on any such plan (it may have happened the evening before, when I was, like, half asleep, for all I know), and he quickly added that I could go if I wanted, but I could help him pick out something for Abigail. I was totally cool with it, so we left, and walked down to the shops. Humorously enough, one of the shopkeepers asked about us, and we had to clarify that I’m dating his brother and was just helping him pick out something for his own girlfriend. He ended up finding a messenger bag for himself that I don’t know if he’ll get, and a grey knit beanie that he went back and got this morning for her. He thinks she’ll like it, but he’s hoping she’ll actually wear it–I guess she’s not flashy–but I think she will. I mean, I don’t know her, but speaking for myself, I’m wearing the hat with the cat ears. We do things for the people we love.

I myself picked up the pins and the scarf. Here they are:

Told you they were awesome. Or, well, I think I did–it doesn’t seem like me to forget something like that. Looking at them, it’s obvious, at least in my opinion. Now, I just gotta find a good place to put the buttons until I can get them on my sun visor….

After that, we walked back, and it was naptime, at least for me. I’d actually been up really late the night before, even for me (oh, Google….and writing…..), so I really needed it, especially if I was going to be with a lot of people later. I rested for a while, not sleeping, and then I think I did actually sleep (that moment when you wake up and you realize the weird things happening to you were a dream, not reality….). And then I pretended to sleep because I was comfy, and, shortly before dinner, let Jonny believe he woke me up by knocking on my door.

Dinner was good, and eventually, Jonny, Michelle, Mike, and I sat out on the front porch and talked; Ben joined us a little, and then went off to text Abigail (shipping!). Seriously, talking with these people is so much fun. They talk about ideas. Mike ended up trying to convince Jonny to turn one of the games he’s writing into a novel, something I support wholeheartedly.

This afternoon, some of us (not sure exactly who) are going to go see Moana. I think. Yeah, until people come over tonight for New Year’s, I’m not actually sure what the plan is. I do know I need to fill out some stuff, like the FAFSA, though I’m wondering if it’ll be easier to do once I’m home and can talk to my parents directly about taxes and stuff instead of trying to do a video call or whatever. I’d probably get less money if I waited, but it might be better that way. Not sure yet, but I’ll figure it out.

Gosh, tomorrow, I’ll be in Seattle, won’t I? Weird. I’m excited, though, because as much as I’ve enjoyed San Diego and I’m going to miss everyone here, I really like Seattle.

Soarin’ California

So, I thought this might be a decent way of keeping everyone updated on my trip, although since I don’t know who actually reads this, it may backfire. Oh well. I’ll find out.

4 am yesterday–I got up and showered, etc, and then my parents drove Jonny and I to the Medford airport at 5. Checked in, said goodbye, got through TSA, and then we waited for about an hour. I found some Dramamine, not due to motion sickness–I don’t think I get that anymore–but for anxiety. Especially since it was the non-drowsy kind, I figured it’d really knock me out, thus preventing me from getting too freaked out. My plan was, essentially: dope myself enough that I end up sleeping the entire flight. And it worked. With a combination of over-the-counter drugs and a boyfriend that holds my hand, I slept pretty much the entire flight to Portland, forcing myself to stay awake for take-off and then waking up in time to land.

See, rationally speaking, I know there’s no reason to panic on a plane. Well, that’s somewhat inaccurate: of course, there are reasons to be worried about air travel, but none of them should be significant enough to freak me out. Thousands of planes, if not more, fly every day without incident. Millions of people fly on planes with no problem. But that’s my brain talking. I’m not sure how many people have experienced irrational fears; maybe everyone has at least once. I wouldn’t be surprised. But, see, the thing is, mentally, I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t thinking about the flight much except that I wanted to get through it without flipping out. But I couldn’t help but feel a constant thrum of nervous energy. It wasn’t out-and-out panic, just low-key nerves, but it was every single second, so it felt just as bad. The Dramamine, I figured, would calm me enough that my brain could get back in control, because I know that stuff can knock me out pretty good; I mean, I can fight it, but it actually exhausts me more in the long run; if I let it do its thing and I just sleep it off, I’m actually relatively awake later. And it succeeded (with help from an equally sleepy boyfriend). It calmed me enough that my brain was able to successfully tell my body to settle down. Turbulance didn’t scare me; I was able to just go with it and it was actually, oddly, almost fun, like being on a roller coaster–at any rate, it was not going to prevent me from sleeping.

Anyway, now that that’s explained, we got to the airport in Portland with no incident. It was easy enough to find the terminal (C4, which I appreciated), and after a small snack for me and a Redbull for Jonny, I intended to take a short nap….which ended up lasting the entire two-hour layover, at which point I woke up when it was announced that our flight would be boarding in fifteen minutes. Humorously enough, the thing is, while the Dramamine helped me rest, I’m still capable of hearing some of what’s going on around me–I’m asleep enough to be sleeping, but it’s not deep. However, when I woke up from my nap, during which I’d slept off the last of the first dose, I was incredibly surprised to find that our terminal was virtually full. I remember blearily looking around and thinking, hazily, Where did all the people come from? I went to the bathroom, took another dose, Jonny went to the bathroom, and a few minutes later, we were on the plane. A grandma-type, it turned out, got the middle seat in our row, but she was willing to move to the aisle seat so Jonny and I could sit together; I took the window seat, which I thought was fair enough, since Jonny’d had the window seat to Portland. Again, I stayed up for takeoff, and then basically fell asleep, feeling bad for Jonny because man, that woman was chatty. I woke up when the pilot announced that we were about ten minutes out from San Diego airspace.

California is different. It’s really pretty, but it’s in a way that I’m totally not used to. I remember looking down and, sure, seeing hills, but none of them looked right, and it was interesting to me to note how the same thing can look totally different. I just kept looking out the window, grinning, because it’s just different and cool. I keep thinking that I’m, like, on an alien planet, but I like it. I don’t think I could live here (two words: sun and heat) but it’s nice for a trip.

Anyway, so we got to the airport (I noticed an all-gender bathroom sign, which pretty much signaled to me definitely that I was definitely not still in Grants Pass, or maybe Oregon in general, though I’d be surprised if at least Portland didn’t have them, too). Bypassing that, we got to the baggage claim and waited forever for my suitcase, mostly because I was unused to looking for it (it’s red) so I didn’t recognize it. And then we walked outside, and I got my first real shock.

It’s the end of December and it’s hot. I looked around and saw nothing but blue sky and palm trees, and almost no shade. When we stopped to wait for someone to pick us up, I ended up taking off my jacket, scarf, and shawl, wondering if it was actually as hot as it felt, or if it was just because we came from somewhere so cold. I asked what we were doing, because I knew we were going to meet his mom at the airport, but I didn’t know if she was arriving at the same time or what. Jonny’s response? “Waiting.” Very enlightening, I know. I bit back a remark, and felt that it was too hot for me to expend the energy of explaining myself; I just decided to look around, acclimate myself to my new surroundings, and mentally gripe a little. After a few minutes, a car pulled up, and his mom got out. She gave Jonny a hug, and then told me she had to give me a Merry Christmas hug, and that was a nice surprise, just because I’ve only met her once, very briefly, a few months ago–I wasn’t expecting a hug, because we were still virtually strangers. Jonny’s Uncle Mike was driving the car, and I was told that I could put my stuff anywhere in the car that I wanted.

San Diego is really interesting. It’s not what I expect from a city at all. It’s really spread out, and while there are lots of tall buildings, none of them are as tall as I thought they’d be. Then again, I’ve only been here for, man, a little over 24 hours at this point, so maybe I’ll find that I’m wrong. So, where we are, because of the neighborhoods and stuff, I don’t feel like I’m in a city so much. We can walk to some small artsy local shops and restaurants. Until around noon, there were Christmas lights strung up all down the neighborhood. The houses are all mismatched and eclectic, almost all of them old–some, like this one, about one hundred years old–and it’s fun to see all the different architectural styles. In some places, the sidewalks are red instead of normal grey. There are also no fences, it so far appears, and all the houses are built very close together.

Anyway, we pulled up to the house, got our stuff out of the car, and Jonny’s grandma opened the door. First thing out of her mouth? “Oi,” I grinned a little to myself at that; I’ve been saying it for years, and when I first met Jonny, I remember finding it a funny coincidence that he says it, too. He’s explained he gets it from his mom, who, it would seem, gets it from hers. Anyway, she gave me a hug, too, and I got shown to my room, which is apparently the one that Jonny and Ben used.

We got a little bit of time to chill–and eat quesadillas and drink Pepsi, because we hadn’t had much to eat all day and it would give us a little more energy–and after Laurie got back from her run, Jonny’s mom (Michelle) took Jonny, Laurie and I on a walk to some shops a few blocks down.

They were cute, artsy little local places, mostly for people who could afford them. I liked them, although they actually seemed so much like places in Ashland that I did sort of find them cliched. Didn’t stop me from having fun, though, because they were pretty cute, and the architecture is enjoyable. There’s also some fun street art, too, and it’s interesting to see how gentrification has apparently made the neighborhood a nice place to live, instead of the bad side of town it used to be.

I didn’t find a whole lot, although what I found I may go back for later. In one place, I found a thin black scarf covered in skulls, some grinning, some normal, some with x-ed out eyes, and while aesthetically it’s cool, it’s also not knitted, which means it won’t get caught in my earrings. I’m okay with the scarves I have, but my biggest complaint about them is that they do get stuck in my earrings, and I’ve been wanting to get a better scarf for a while. This one not only looks cool, but should also function well. The other two things I found were Sex Pistols buttons, one with the cover art for their album (Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols, for anyone curious), and the other was the artwork for their song “God Save the Queen”. I’ve wanted to pick something like that up for a little while, and I can add them to my button collection on my sun visor (one day, I should probably find a better place for it…). I was really close to picking up a Pistols shirt at Hot Topic before Christmas, but decided to hold out because I didn’t know what I’d be getting… Now, considering I didn’t get any Pistols-related stuff for Christmas, I want to buy something.

Jonny and I ended up going back to the house early, while Michelle and Laurie stayed out a bit longer, and then we all met up to go to dinner at around 5:10. Mike came over to eat with us, and he, Jonny, Laurie, and I walked while Michelle took her mom in the car. I forget the name of the place we went to, somewhere that apparently has good fish tacos, which everyone seemed to get other than Jonny and I (we got burgers, which were also good). The place was totally fun, though, because the walls were covered in band posters and pictures of performances, so Jonny, Michelle, and Mike would look around and try to identify as many as possible. They had Misfits, the Clash, Velvet Underground, the Ramones, and the Sex Pistols, as well as probably at least one hundred others, most of which were apparently supplied by a friend of Mike’s. I was proud of myself for recognizing what I did, and curious to listen to them talk about the ones I didn’t know. And, come on, photos of the Clash and the Pistols? Totally great. Paul Simonon providing the album cover for London Calling by smashing his bass into the ground–it felt like seeing a little behind the scenes–and something about Jonny Rotten yelling into the mic makes me smile, whether I’m hearing the music or looking at a photo. It probably has something to do with his brutal honesty. Is he always right? Maybe not. But he’s willing to say what’s on his mind, and I appreciate that. It’s refreshing. Whatever else one might think of his morals, he does appreciate honesty and authenticity, and absolutely blasts Anne Beverly for giving Sid drugs, so he’s okay.

Anyway, after dinner, Michelle, Jonny, and I stopped into the Target Express before walking the rest of the way back to the house. I promptly went upstairs, intending to chill for a few minutes–the day, as good as it was, was also overwhelming–and I ended up being up there for about an hour. Whoops. But I ended up watching the end of an episode of Bones and all of another with Jonny’s grandma before going to bed, and that was a nice time.

I got to sleep in this morning, which was nice, because, despite sleeping on both plane rides, I was still really exhausted, and I’d sort of pushed it by going on those walks on top of how tired I’d been. After I got up and Laurie got back from her run, Jonny, Michelle, Laurie, and I walked down to pick up Mike, and the five of us went to get lunch. We ended up going to this place that, I think, could only exist in southern California. It was a place with really good Mexican food (easily the best quesadilla I’ve ever had, although it was so huge that I had to get half of it to-go), but it was very brightly colored and the theme was Mexican wrestling. Photos of big half naked men really aren’t my thing, but I had to appreciate the artwork themselves, how the photo editing was done and the oddly ornate frames, and that it’s the sort of place that is just so unique to the general area. Like, it wasn’t my thing, but I could appreciate it for the experience (and the food).

We stayed out a little longer, and Jonny ended up picking out a postcard for both of us. The artwork we’d found was really cool, so he picked out a small photo for me, and one for him. I liked both of them, but I’m happy with the one I got (and I didn’t even ask him to get one for me, nor was I expecting it–he just handed it to me). Really, he ran off to go pick one up, came back with two, and essentially said, “I got one for you.” And it was the one that was probably my favorite. ~beams~

Can’t quite read the word on it, but still, it’s interesting. I think it’s Spanish, and I can pick out “sanguin”. “Consanguineal” is the closest I can make it out to be, and I want to look up what it means (“sanguine” can mean, like, both “peaceful” and “bloody”).

When we got back from the walk (which was slightly cooler, since the breeze kicked in, mercifully), I pretty much went upstairs and started working on this. No offense to anyone, but, being an introvert, I just needed a bit of a break. Everything here is so different, I’m trying to take it all in, and I basically just needed to get away from all the stimulation and focus on just one thing without having to worry about social interaction. It’s a thing with me, and probably with introverts in general. It’s not that we don’t like the people we’re with, but social interaction is draining for us, and suddenly, we just hit a wall. “Nope, I’m done. That’s it. Sorry, but I can’t take people right now.” Sometimes, I just get to the point where I’m like, “The only person I can deal with right now is me. I’m just too tired to focus on how to interact with others.”

I came downstairs around 4:30-ish when Jonny came upstairs to let me know that his Uncle Scott, Aunt Ju, and Cousin Lucas was here for dinner, and apparently, Lucas was asking about me. So, I went downstairs and met everyone on the front steps, where I quickly found out that they all fit the theme of “really cool people”. We sat out there and talked until I went upstairs to grab my jacket and my boots, but when I went back downstairs, they were all going in to figure out dinner. We ended up calling in pizza, and Michelle and Scott left early to go pick it up. We all had a nice dinner at the table (though I only got one slice of pizza, but oh, well), and I got to listen to Ju talk about her work, which sounds really interesting, although I didn’t quite understand all of it. She’s in fashion design, but it also sounded like she does a lot of branding and marketing; we’re going to all get together again tomorrow night for dinner at Steve’s place, so I’ll have to ask her more. Lucas and Michelle made a gingerbread house, which ended up looking really cute and festive, while the others chatted and, admittedly, Jonny and I were on our phones. See, with me, sometimes there comes a point in conversations–particularly with people I don’t know–where suddenly I realize I don’t know where I fit in. Like, what do I do? Who do I talk to? What do I say? Should I just be quiet? There comes a point where I don’t know where I fit, and that’s when I get my phone out; phone usage also helps Jonny. So, we’re with everyone else, even though we’re doing our own thing, and if the conversation comes around to something that we feel like we can be a part of, we can comment. I think it’s an introversion thing, at least partly, because while Jonny will claim it’s an Asperger’s thing, I do it, too; maybe it’s both.

Anyway, that’s been the trip so far. It’s been a really nice one. In a place I’ve never been to, surrounded by people I mostly don’t know, in a climate that’s really not conducive to, well, me, I’ve been enjoying myself. It’s also nice to see Jonny relaxed, in a place where he feels like he can be himself and not scare anyone by being goth-punk. He wore his boots, this awesome pair of black pants, and this shirt that’s got a tiger’s head swapped in for Clint Eastwood’s (er, I think), and he commented that he felt like himself again. But I’ve enjoyed chilling, seeing a different culture, and exploring a new place with people who are very easy to get along with.

See, all of these people are pretty chill, which I was expecting because Jonny told me about it, and it’s really nice. They’re a group of very laid-back, easy-going people, who seem quick, to accept people, even people they don’t know well. It’s really nice, and they’re an interesting group of people in their own right, in that, while they’re great as a group, it’s also nice to talk to them and get to know them as individuals.

Souvenirs from this leg of the trip may include a skull-covered scarf, two Sex Pistols buttons, and some more really cool artwork. Who knows what else I’ll find. I know I need to find a shot glass, so I can add it to my collection once I get home.

Jonny and I are planning to go to the zoo tomorrow morning (am I horribly interested in zoos? No, but it’s the San Diego Zoo–that’s a unique experience I’m not going to get anywhere else), and then we might try to go hit up some shops and museums. That, or go watch Lucas’s snowboarding practice and go hiking; we haven’t quite decided yet.

*correction: Ju came when we all went in to figure out dinner. Also, side bar: when I told Jonny I wasn’t sure what to call his grandma, he told me that she’s ‘Grandma Lois’, so I’ll try using that. It may feel a little weird, since she’s not my grandma, and thus, the name isn’t accurate for my usage, but it’s what I’ve got. Besides, inaccuracy aside, I don’t really mind all that much. So, from here on out, that’s how I’m going to refer to her, just as a head’s-up.

Tell The World I’m Coming Home

Yes, as I’ve officially announced on the Edgewater College Group page, and as at least a few people at CBCC know (not to mention family members), I’m leaving Cannon Beach. I put my letter of resignation in on the 25th, my last day of work will be the 9th, and I’ll be driving home on the 11th. I officially have about two weeks left at the coast.

This was, to be honest, an easy decision to make, although it’s not an easy one to deal with. There is so much more that I want to do in my life, things that I can’t do while I’m here. I want to finish my education, and I only have so much time left on the GI Bill before the education benefits expire; I’d like to get as far as I can with that, saving as much as I can for when time runs out. I want to get my own place (well, with a roommate or two, but still), and I’d like to make at least minimum wage. Leaving is a good thing for me. I’ve got things I need to work through, and some things I need to let go of.

But I feel the clock ticking down. Even though I want to leave, after about six months or so of being here, it feels strange to know that, in about two weeks, I’ll be packing up my car and leaving Cannon Beach. There’s so much I’ve realized I haven’t done, things I always thought I’d do ‘later’. I can count on one hand how many restaurants I’ve been to, and I’ve rarely been down to the beach in broad daylight (after dark, though, I’ve been to the beach tons of times–seriously, night walks on the beach are underrated).

And I’m going to miss the people. At the very top of the list are the other Musketeers, Jonny, Marci, and Will. Thankfully, I’ll get to see them a little bit after I go, but the four of us have been together for months. I’m so used to seeing them every day. It’s going to be really painful to leave them. There’s actually a good list of people I’m really going to miss, such as Tugboat and Julie, but I can’t name them all–they know who they are, I hope, but I don’t want to risk not listing someone who should be there. Saying goodbye is not going to be fun.

Change is hard for me. I like constants. I like things I can rely on. I value the ability to adapt–adaptation is necessary to survival, after all–but it doesn’t come easily to me. I have my world. Things are how they are. I get used to the status quo and part of me, I guess, just expects it to exist unchallenged and unchanged–except, of course, for acceptable alterations which the parties relevant to the situation, including myself, have all discussed as hopeful, intentional possibilities and have agreed upon as something we condone. I’d like the status quo to remain the same, barring those changes, because it’s comfortable that way.

But while comfort zones are great, useful things, nothing ever grows in them. Eventually, something happens–such as me moving back to Southern Oregon–and I have to learn, once again, that I’m not in control. Things can’t stay the way I want them to. And it’ll all work out for the best somehow, as hard as it is in the moment.

I’ll be in Grants Pass the 11th-27th of December. I’m planning to work the week before Christmas at the Bear Hotel for the annual holiday event from 11-3, and that should be fun. Marci will be down to see her family at some point, so I’m intending to hang out with her, and her sister is invited along as well. Jonny will actually be down to visit on the 22nd, and so hopefully I can introduce him to as many of you guys as I can, since he’ll be staying with us and, hey, you’re my friends and he’s my boyfriend. I’d like you guys to meet him. On the 27th, however, Jonny and I will be flying down to San Diego to visit his mom and her family (his brother will be there, too). On the 1st, we’ll be heading up to Seattle for his brother’s birthday, and while I’m not exactly certain yet on the date I’ll be heading back to Grants Pass, I’m leaning towards the 6th and I’m welcome to stay in Seattle for about a week. And no worries, while the two of us will probably be staying at his grandma’s house in San Diego and at his dad and stepmom’s in Seattle, we’ll be in separate rooms. So, yes, we’re going on a Christmas vacation together, but we’re doing it right. I just want you guys to know what my plans are so that we can meet up while I’m still in town, and I don’t want you to worry about my living arrangements while I’m gone.

At some point in early January, however, I’ll be back in GP, and I’ll be settling down there indefinitely. I’ll be going back to school at RCC, looking for a job (something I’m actually going to start doing via email in the next few days, hopefully), and I’ll be looking for an apartment and people to share it with. Let me know if you’re interested. Theoretically, at some point in September-ish, Marci will be moving to Portland after leaving CB herself, and she’ll let me know when she does so that I can move in with her. Who knows what will actually happen (other than God, of course), but that’s our plan. There will also hopefully be a trip to Emerald City Comic Con in the beginning of March, at which point the Four Musketeers shall be reunited at long last, but that sort of depends on this thing called ‘money’, of which I fervently hope to have enough of. I want to go to a Comic Con. I want the Four Musketeers to be back together again, even if only for a few days. And I want to cosplay as Harley Quinn again (because you bet I’ll be bringing my costume with me!).

Returning to Grants Pass is a gift, one I need to use wisely. I was nervous about going back, considering how I was when I initially left, and some of the effects I had from being back for just one week last month, but I’m intending to do it right. I’m intending to make the most and the best of things. I’m going to get a part-time job that pays minimum wage. I’m going to get a place that’s more or less my own (and has a dishwasher!). And I’m hopefully going to get my Associate’s, although I may have to transfer without one again, since the first Biology course probably won’t be offered at RCC again until the fall. And I’m going to actually learn how to budget and I’ll actually save money for the future. I’m going to go back to Edgewater, as well as the Bible study.

So, in light of those intentions, I’m actually excited. I’m eager for the opportunity to return to Grants Pass and turn things around. Before, I felt like Grants Pass was a dead end for me, I’ll be honest, but one of the things I’ve gained in Cannon Beach is greater confidence, and I want to be able to one day leave Grants Pass and have a better perspective about the place.

I don’t want to get stuck somewhere, spinning my wheels, waiting for life to happen one day. I want to live my life. I want to live.

This isn’t me at SOU, where I barely talked to anyone, didn’t get along with my roommates, and had withdrawn from the one club I was actually a part in. This isn’t me not realizing that I actually had to study for those tests. This isn’t me regretting that I didn’t get out and do more things–study on the lawn in front of Churchill Hall, spend more time in the library, hang out in the Stevenson Union. This isn’t me possibly making myself sick for about a week due to stress. This isn’t me living in such isolation, aside from having to go to class, that I was left alone with the negativity in my head without a dissenting voice.

This isn’t me failing online classes at RCC, not realizing I had midterms due until an hour before because I thought I knew the website better than I did. This isn’t me failing to find a job because I didn’t even have the courage to try, to believe that anyone would want to hire me. This isn’t me being hindered by the memory of being fired from Fred Meyer. This isn’t me learning that people actually wanted to be my friend, and learning that I could actually reach out to people to hang out.

This isn’t me leaving behind a string of failures, coming home after screwing up and biding time trying to find a purpose in life and suffering from chronic depression because I felt like I screwed up everything I tried. This isn’t me, washed up and burnt out, wondering what was the point of trying to make life better if I was never going to succeed. This isn’t me having screwed up in my attempts to be a functioning adult. This isn’t me being alone, and struggling to remember that I didn’t have to be. This isn’t me going nowhere, seeing my life as a dead end. This isn’t me feeling like a lazy, selfish ass who mooches off her parents because she doesn’t have enough ambition to actually do something productive and gain independence. This isn’t me not believing enough in myself, or trusting in God enough, to have that ambition in the first place, and constantly berating myself for what I saw as not caring enough about my situation to improve it.

This is me with a plan. This is me looking forward to the future. This is me wanting a second chance to have deep relationships with people that I’d kept at a distance before, and hoping that they’ll give me one after having been mostly MIA these last few months. This is me ready to live. This is me with goals I’m working towards, goals I believe I can meet. I do have things I need to work on and get over, but I’m better now. This isn’t me defeated; this is me ready to conquer. This is me, a little more confident, a little bit stronger, and, hopefully, a little bit wiser.

This is me with hope, hope that things will actually be okay. I’ve got good things in my life, and good things I want to have happen, and I believe they can. I certainly hope they will. This is me learning that whatever happens, happens. What will be, will be. Why? Because God’s in control, and he’s got this. So, there’s really no use worrying.

Now, I just need to remember that, in place of that worrying I try not to do as much anymore, I need to actually pray.

So, yeah, I’m coming home. To those in Grants Pass, I’ll see you in about two weeks, and I’m looking forward to it. To those in Cannon Beach, I’ve got two weeks left with you guys…and I’m dreading having to say goodbye.

 

 

The Last Few Months: A Recap

First off, for those of you back in Southern Oregon, I just want to say that I know I’ve been AWOL. I think I virtually disappeared in about July, although my Mom posted things about me on occasion, and then the next time I actually popped up in person was on Halloween. I was actually in GP a few weeks ago, I’ll admit, but that was a really stressful week, and so I didn’t get to drop in, though I wanted to. The truth is, I’m not good with missing people. I don’t know how to show it. And part of my way of dealing with it is to ignore it and focus on where I am and the people there. It’s nothing against you. I did want to catch you guys up to speed on what was happening here several times, but I had no idea where to begin or how to explain. It was just easier, sadly, to not say anything at all. But I’ve been thinking about you guys, and I miss you. I’m sorry for dropping off the face of the earth.

Now, the rest of this is going to be for everyone.

Why did I move to Cannon Beach? I honestly had no intention to do so even a week and a half before I moved here. It wasn’t even a blip on my radar. My Mom had told me about Ecola my entire life, and she’d been pushing me to attend in the weeks leading up to my departure for the coast, but I wasn’t horribly into it. School had been….eh. Work had been as equally lackluster. I knew I needed Christian fellowship but I wasn’t sure about Bible school, because I figured I’d stand a better chance becoming a director if I went somewhere with more opportunities. But I was going to Bible study, and getting back in touch with a professor at RCC, and honestly, I was starting to think that maybe I’d pull myself together and make a decent life for myself in Grants Pass. Secretly, I wasn’t doing so hot there. I was battling chronic depression several times a week, and I’d had emotional breakdowns in which, alone and sobbing, I threw things across the room and stared down deep into the abyss of utter despair and hopelessness. This may sound like me being melodramatic, because I often am, but I am being dead serious. I had very little self esteem, and I was beginning to think that it wasn’t worth trying to make my life better, because, to try to quote Charlie Brown, “everything I touch gets ruined”.

And then my Mom, one evening, was apparently looking into Ecola and found out that CBCC was taking applications for summer staff. And, to be honest, I was not interested. Ecola and Cannon Beach were her thing, not mine. I was not going to, out of the blue, go across the state to some village I’d only been to once and didn’t remember, to live somewhere I’d never been for an entire summer with a bunch of strangers. While not having to pay for lodging and food sounded nice, working normal hours for less than minimum wage did not excite me. And I didn’t want to have to live in some tiny dorm with a bunch of people I didn’t know; I’d tried dorm life at SOU and it had sucked, and I knew that I wasn’t exactly….keen on living with strangers. I did not want to work at some church camp. I’m a little sketchy about group-community-bonding-sharing-feelings-ness, and I didn’t want to spend an entire summer around a circle holding hands and singing “Kumbaya”; I think I would’ve gone nuts, particularly if it was forced participation (hello, stubbornness, how are you doing today?).

My Mom told me that I didn’t have anything keeping me in Grants Pass, point blank, and when she did, I realized that she was right. I didn’t really have any reason to leave, except for work experience and a fresh start–plus, dude, the beach, and I’d get to spend the hottest months of the year in a place that would be markedly cooler and hopefully cloudier. But as much as I didn’t have a reason to leave that actually motivated me to go, I didn’t have a reason to stay, so I decided to go ahead and apply, if anything to make my Mom happy so she’d stop going on about it. I applied to work with the kids, and had a phone interview with Ellen, which helped me actually become somewhat excited, and maybe two days later (my mental timeline is a little fuzzy now), I got a call back: I was hired.

I actually had a job. Someone actually wanted me to work with them. It was only for a summer, but I’d actually gotten a job for myself.

Due to my experience with Fred Meyer almost a year before, that was a shock. I’d gotten myself a job with the school district, yes, but this seemed different. To be a little more frank, I’d gotten myself a job somewhere where basically nobody knew me or my family.

So we drove to Salem about a week after I initially applied, and then to CB the next day. A week and a half whirlwind from not knowing what my plan was to moving across the state. And I still wasn’t horribly enthused–less negative about it than before I’d talked with Ellen, but I wasn’t expecting much, either. I knew the mistakes I’d made at SOU–such as, not challenging myself to be social, thus isolating myself inside my own head and not having a dissenting voice to counter my pessimism–and I’d hoped that I’d actually not remake them. I’d spent months wondering if I could ever really change but fearing that I never would, so I wasn’t optimistic, but I wanted to do better. I wanted to make friends. I didn’t want to spend the summer alone with only work in my life, and I knew I needed accountability to actually be in the Word.

I got to Cannon Beach, and nothing happened quite the way I expected, but mostly in good ways. I just want to fill you in on what happened, generally speaking.

To start off, I worked at the Cannon Beach Christian Conference Center in Cannon Beach, Oregon, this summer. I had a summer staff position, which garnered me….not very much in the way of a paycheck, to be honest, but I got food and housing, so I was fine. CBCC is on the same grounds as Ecola Bible School, and the two are intermixed. CBCC provides space for retreats and conferences from around the country and into Canada; Ecola is, of course, a Bible school, but during the school year, the students are able to work for the conference center part-time. Also on grounds is Charis Kids, “charis” being Greek for “grace”, which is basically the only day care in town. As a part of summer staff, I was put in Charis Kids, which was considered to be part of “Program”; most Program staff actually worked with the kids who came with their families for the retreats, and none of them had anything remotely to do with Charis, while Charis aides (and Mr. Kyle–who is about my age but is almost always referred to universally as ‘Mr. Kyle’) helped out the other Program staff members on Thursdays for Kid Dinner. I spent 8 hours a day, on average, 5 days a week, with children, which, honestly, was a lot more challenging than I’d expected given my limited experiences as a classified substitute for SD7. It was very taxing on me as an introvert and a generally low-energy person, having to be so very ‘on’ for so long almost every single day. However, I got along pretty well with everyone, and I did genuinely like the kids (well, most of them).

Beyond work, some wonderful and interesting things happened. First off, I made friends! Not to say that I haven’t had friends before, and that I didn’t have friends before coming to Cannon Beach (come on guys, really?), but I didn’t used to be optimistic about my ability to form meaningful connections with other humans. But I actually made a surprising number of friends, especially for me. A special shout-out goes to, in no particular order, JJ, Emma, Ken, Marci, Tugboat, and Will. I’m not really going to try describing you guys, because I don’t have your express permission to do so, and because, frankly, ya’ll are just awesome and I’m not even sure how to describe you guys.

So that happened.

Not only had I made myself actually interact with people, but people openly wanted to interact with me. No matter how much I experienced that at home, it was still really weird for me. People actually recognizing that I was new, and wanting to know who I was and where I was from was bizarre, and so very nice.

So, the other thing that happened that was great. I’m going to actually elaborate more on this. Again, my memory of the timeline is fuzzy, and those first few days in CB are mostly a complete blur, because of how much I was trying to get up to speed with things. It was information overload. But, for the other great thing that happened:

I believe it first began at a lunch. I was looking around the Garden Room, which is part of the dining room, for a place to sit and couldn’t really find one. I certainly didn’t find a spot that would be by myself. But I saw an open seat by a window at a table that was mostly full, and I decided to go for it. I’m not sure why; maybe I figured that the people there looked enough like a Ragtag Bunch of Misfits that I might be able to join in. I asked if I could take the empty spot, and they said yes–so far, so good. I was up against a wall (with a window) at a table with a bunch of strangers, which isn’t the sort of place that’s comfortable for me to sit, especially in anywhere new, but I had a place to eat and they seemed nice enough. Looking back, I know Tugboat was there, and I’m pretty sure Caeli was. They probably introduced themselves to me, but like I’ve said, information overload kinda killed my memory, and I’m also bad with names and faces anyway. But at some point, someone asked where “Faust” was. I asked who “Faust” was, and I was told–by Tugboat, I think–that “Faust” was Jonathan (Tugboat, by the way, is actually Trevor). I probably nodded, cool with it, wondering who this other new person (new to me, not to them) was and how he came to be called “Faust”. In confirmation of what I was probably guessing, Tugboat informed me that Jonathan was goth; I remember his tone was almost like, “before you meet him, you should know this”. I just shrugged, at least mentally. It’s not like goths scared me, and I was just going to treat him like a normal person whenever I met him, and not like a space alien. I also wondered what brought a goth to the conference center, although I knew that goths can be Christians, and so I figured that he was a Christian who, through some series of circumstances, basically decided he liked black and chains. Whatever. But I also figured that Christian goths kinda usually stand out a lot compared to mainstream Christians, and it must be really weird for him to be somewhere where nobody’s like him, and I was worried that people might treat him strangely because he’s different. While I figured that, if anyone did, it was unintentional, ostracizing people for not conforming to normal standards is very not cool in my book, and considering I’ve had friends who were goths (and I was kinda one myself in high school), I’ve got a soft spot for them. Thus, I was going to not treat him like a space alien.

I think the first time I actually saw him, he was working in the dish pit later, because he was wearing khakis. Black hair, earrings–okay. That’s Jonathan. I said hi, he said hi, maybe we exchanged “how are you’s”, but as far as I can clearly remember, that was it. We passed by each other at least once in the dining hall.

Then, at some point later–I think still before the conferences actually started–I was at a bonfire. It was late, dark. I don’t remember much about being at the bonfire before the things I’m about to tell you–actually, I don’t remember anything. I just remember seeing two guys standing a few yards away from the fire who hadn’t been there before, and what caught my eye was that the taller of the two had a sword he was swinging around. I thought that was totally cool, LOTR fan that I am, so I walked over–and, indeed, within five minutes, the guy with the sword (Will–and it was a fake) had me pegged as a Middle-Earth fan. At some point soon after (er, I think it was soon after), I asked them if they were familiar with TV Tropes.

And it was at this point that the shadowy, very hard to see male standing on Will’s right, closer to the fire but still the harder to see because he blended in so well to the sheer blackness of night, threw back his head and laughed manically. I might have actually wondered, for a brief moment, if he really was crazy. “DO I KNOW TV TROPES?!” Compared to how seamlessly he fit into the night around him, almost as though he was made from it (and I am being deliberately melodramatic, to the point of corniness, for the amusement of anyone who takes it that way) and belonged to it, he was very, very loud. I don’t think he’d said much, if anything, until he burst out laughing, and it was very, very startling. I hadn’t expected such a dramatic response, especially at such a volume (which I now find hilarious). He explained he’d been on the site almost since it began and that he was a GM for several discussions.

And that was how it began. I finally found someone who knew what TV Tropes was and had completely fallen down the rabbit hole, even more than I had.

We talked about tropes, comics, and Deadpool, and I’m not even sure what all else; Will mentioned a few times that his girlfriend was supposed to be coming, and eventually, a brunette a little taller than me approached; I couldn’t see her, but she was introduced as Marci.

And there, for the first time, the Four Musketeers were all assembled. Our first goal, within minutes of meeting, was to spend an entire day at Powell’s at the earliest possible opportunity (we were also going to take Tugboat).

Anyway, brief hellos aside, that was my first interaction with Jonny: maniacal laughter in the dark of night.

How did I get his number? I don’t remember. But we talked a lot. And eventually, people started asking–or just assuming–that we were dating. People asked us if we liked each other; and once, when Jonny was dressed up for wait staff that evening, someone asked if we were actually on a date. This lasted for a little while, with the two of us laughing about it because seriously, man, no, we’re just friends…except apparently both of us were secretly hiding our feelings even from ourselves, and eventually, Jonny accidentally implied that he liked me. This was after we joked about pretending to date just to troll people, because our shippers were not going to stop shipping us no matter what we said or did anyway, so we might as well have some fun with it. And that was when I realized I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t like him back anymore; I talked with Caeli, and determined that not only was I not ready to date, but I didn’t think he was, either–that said, we needed to talk.

So we did. We talked–the whole “before we get into anything, you should know this….” thing–and agreed that we’d take it slow. We needed to get to know each other first, because while we knew each other enough to like each other in a more-than-friends way, we didn’t actually know each other well. If we were going to enter into a relationship, we were going to do it right and be committed.

Fast forward to the end of summer, when people started asking me when we’d started dating. We were taking a walk on the beach–I think this was after he’d gotten back from a trip back up to the Seattle area, where he’s from–and I decided to ask him exactly when we started dating….because no one had ever actually officially asked. We’d just mentioned in conversation with each other that we were dating, or agreeing when someone else said we were. We’d started dating without either of us asking the other out. And he said it was probably some time in late August; I agreed.

So, Jonny and I have been dating since late August; neither of us know an exact date.

I have a boyfriend, and I love him =) It’s difficult for me to put into words with other people, but I do. He loves me, respects me, and treats me right. We also just get along really well. When I look back on what I knew I needed in someone before this summer–and mind you, while I jokingly brought a skirt in case someone actually asked me on a date, I wasn’t actually looking for anyone–I see that Jonny is it. I needed someone who could understand and handle the fact that I get really down sometimes, that I struggle with depression, and that I like spooky stuff. I needed someone strong willed, so that I wouldn’t have to be afraid of bullying him. I wanted someone who was willing to try things with me, and who wasn’t interested in a cookie cutter existence. I knew that, to be fair to myself and whoever I ended up with, I’d have to tell him that I’m not exactly what one would call ‘normal’, no matter how I chose to present myself (I don’t really bother anymore), and he had to be okay with that.

I found him. Boy, did I find him–or, rather, God just put him in my life with no more ceremony than a vague introduction from Tugboat followed by nighttime crazy laughter. And it was great. In fact, the longer Jonny and I are together, the more I see how we work well together.

He gets me. He loves me for who I am and for who I could be. He lets me be me, and doesn’t want me to be anyone else. He more than ‘gets’ that I struggle with depression–he gets it—and he’s definitely more than ‘okay’ with the fact that I like ‘spooky stuff’–because he’s into it, too. Relationship goals: Gomez and Morticia Addams, all the way. We share similar interests, and he doesn’t want a normal existence any more than I do. And he is not a weak-willed individual.

In Cannon Beach, I have been really really blessed. This is the prettiest stretch of beach on the entire Oregon Coast, and the town is so quaint it’s almost unreal. I got to befriend a great group of people who turned the staff lounge into what I good-naturedly thought of as the G-rated Cheers! bar, and what Marci similarly thought of as Animal Crossing: a Ragtag Bunch of Misfits trying to figure out their stuff and follow God, good people with real issues trying to do better than they were before. I mean all this in the nicest way possible. I have made friends for life, particularly with the Musketeers (Jonny, Will, Marci, and I). I’ve met someone that I hope to spend the rest of my life with. And I finally found somewhere where I feel absolutely free to be who I am, where I’ve felt free to let myself try things, because, in a new place, I didn’t feel like anyone was really judging me. I didn’t have to worry about disappointing them if it turned out that I was the sort of person they wanted.

I want you to know that that fear is absolutely nothing that any of you friends in GP have instilled in me–it’s something that I’ve struggled with inherently for years. I’m simultaneously too much and not enough, and surely people want/expect something different of me than I can give them–those are thoughts I’ve wrestled with for a long time. And you welcoming me into the Bible study was the first step in me getting over it. Through you guys, I learned that I’m wanted. You were happy I was there, you missed me when I was gone, and you wanted to hang out, something which took me a long time to realize and understand. But I still felt like I had to conform, not because of anything you guys said or did, but because of my own fear of not being accepted if I’m not like everyone else. And through the folks in CB and particularly the Musketeers, I’m learning that I’m wanted even if I’m different. I’ve tried to blend in and go unnoticed for so long, but away from the pressures of disappointing people, where I’m free to try new things, well…

I’m now learning to not worry about what other people think of me. I’m learning to accept myself for who I am and not worry about anyone else’s approval. I’m starting to learn that, seriously, everyone’s too worried about their own self-image to give a care about how I look and what I like. Nobody is judging me or evaluating my performance as a friend; nobody is out there thinking they can find someone better. Nobody is reviewing how many boxes I check off for membership (because who likes a poser, right?) in this group or that. People who care about me will see me, not an image or a stereotype or a space alien. See, when I first started experimenting with this, with something I’d been inclined toward for a while but too afraid to express, I was wondering what people would think of me; I reminded myself that these people never saw me before, and I also decided that I just didn’t care. I was going to try it, and the more I did, the more I found I was comfortable with it and liked it. I was also pleasantly surprised that I actually got compliments, even if my outfit was entirely black.

What I learned was simple: nobody cares! So what if I want to wear acid wash skinny jeans, crazy heels, a corset top, black lace gloves, and a leather cuff? That’s just me. Nobody treats me any differently than they did before I started this.

It’s amazing how freeing it is to learn that I can stop worrying about whether or not I measure up.

I hope nobody’s taken offense to anything I said. Any offense was unintentional; I’m not trying to blame anyone for anything–I just have my own problems to work out, and I’m getting through them. I’m just tired of trying to be someone I’m not. Authenticity and honesty are important, and honestly, I’m not bohemian or a hipster. I can still appreciate those lifestyles, but they’re not for me.

So that was my summer. It wasn’t always great–I can think of a few negatives–but I was so very blessed. I was blessed with a degree of independence, which lead to greater self-esteem, and I was blessed to live in a place as beautiful as Cannon Beach. I was blessed with a great group of friends (all for one and one for all!), the freedom to grow as a person, and I was blessed with an amazing boyfriend. I’m starting to trust that what will be will be, that what’s meant to be will always finds its way, because God is in control, so stop worrying. Just do what you can at the moment let the next day come when it will. 

And now, the time has come for me to leave Cannon Beach (Jonny is leaving, too). I’ll be returning to Grants Pass theoretically around December 17th, since that’s when we’re all off for Christmas break anyway, but I might have to go back earlier than that, despite how inconvenient it would be to do. I don’t think I could, or should, stay at CBCC any longer; I was very blessed to be here over the summer, but as I’ve gotten away from the summer, the more I’ve been thinking that I’ve gotten what I could out of it and that I need to move on with my life. So, at some point this winter, I’ll be going back to Grants Pass, and I’m hoping to get into the girls’ internship at Edgewater while I finish getting my Associate’s degree. Meanwhile, Jonny is going to go back home as well, to get his Associate’s and then go to art school (I am so happy for him! He’s going to do great! I can’t wait to see what he does!). In the fall, Marci is planning to move to Portland, and she’ll drop me a line when she does, so I’ll be back in northern Oregon for the fall (idealistically). She’ll be going to school for animation, and I’ll be working on getting some kind of film degree; somewhere in all that, Jonny and I’s paths will link back up for good. Being on opposite sides of two different states is going to be hard, but honestly, I’m so excited for him, so happy to see how much he’s looking forward to this (when he’s not anxiously making sure that I know he’s not ditching me), and, increasingly, looking forward to seeing what happens in Grants Pass. I’ve been dealing with this frequent question of whether or not it’ll turn out that I needed to go back to GP to straighten stuff out, put stuff behind me, and generally stop running from things (from what, I’m not exactly sure). But suffice to say, I think that, provided that we do this right, my returning to GP and Jonny returning to the Seattle area will be really good for both of us as individuals, and my hope is that once we’ve gone through that, we’ll be more ready to be together in the real world, as opposed to living in the CBCC bubble. The catch is that we do, indeed, do this right, which is a reason why I’d like to wait to leave CBCC until Christmas, because it gives us more time to really make sure that we know what we’re going to do when we leave. I’m not entirely sure what Will’s plan is, which is why the four of us really need to sit down and talk, so we know what we’re doing, but I’m a shipper for he and Marci. In my mind, while we all might spend some time physically apart (Skype definitely being a thing), we’ll all end back up together somewhere at the end of it. The four of us are determined to stick together, and keep each other as priorities in our lives.

For such a cynic, I do have a very idealistic side of me, and the above is merely the plan as we all see it so far. We don’t actually know what’s going to happen, but this is what we’re planning on so we have an idea to strive for, and we’ll see what actually occurs.

But I just wanted to catch everyone up on what happened this summer, and let you guys know what my plan is now.