There is something in your voice that makes my heart beat fast...
Hope this feeling lasts for the rest of my life....
It feels like home to me...

There are moments in my life when it is so real and so unbelievable that I don't just feel it. I can taste, smell, touch, see and know that it is real. It is a sensation that books are written for and the theatre tries its hardest to portray. I call them Dawson Creek moments. Those kids can convey themselves better than anyone I have ever seen. When I have those moments and I am clear enough to catch the moment, then I have to look around to see if there are cameras anywhere. I have had plenty of those moments that are twenty-twenty hindsights. To catch it in the moment though...

...it is all encompassing and makes my fingertips tingle...

I know people who live thier whole life like this because I have seen them actively persue it, create it and maintain it. It makes my heart stand up just thinking about it. The most interesting thing about these moments is that when I bring them to my consciousness and no one is around, emotionally, I go right to that spot. It makes me know that I am human capable of love. That has got to be what that sensation is. It can't be anything other than love.

My first recognition of the moment was when a friend came to me and told me that what they had done was wrong and they would try not to do it again and the sheer honesty, integrity and courage mixed with humility was.....not like anything I had experienced before that moment. Or the time I had someone leave me who was one of the first who I had tried desperately to be a friend and who I had opened myself up to be vunerable to and had them not just leave but slam the door leave and the pain of that loss spewed out of every pore in my body to a point that I didn't think I would ever stop crying. Then there was the reality that I didn't want the life that I was leading and needed something more and had to make great strides to change that would be hard and painful and joyous. Or the time that I was honest about what I wanted with another person who to this day I love every ounce of and yearn to have in my life at that level only to face the determination of them as contrasting and incompatible, which I let go of on a moment by moment basis. Or the moment when I knew...

...I knew that I wouldn't rather be with any other man for the rest of my life...

I love moments like that.

It was a good day because something got done!

It is amazing how hard work and a little luck will get you places. I say luck even though I don't believe in it, but I am sure you understand. Today has been one of those days that I need every once in a while to remind me why I like my job and why I like myself. I didn't used to like myself, but today is another story. I took care of fifty gozillion things today. They were all bits and pieces that needed to be cleaned up and got cleaned up. That is so empowering. It is like when I get my whole house clean just in time to go out of town so when I come back it is sparkling and inviting and homey which is so nice after a long trip. I am revving up for my first concert that will make or break me. Or at least I think it will make or break me. Maybe it won't break me at all, but it is going to WEAR ME OUT. I am excited. Someone told me yesterday that this job is all about my personality. I think that is partially true. I think it is also about what I like to do which makes my emphasis go up. I hated working for someone else to sell a product that was simple. I hated dealing with complaints from all around the world and processing them throughout a plant. I hated...loved...hated...burned out on waiting tables. Some days I still think I can do it, but the truth is that I can only do it at one place if I ever do it again. Besides, thirty year olds, waiting tables is not pretty to me any more. Not that some people are okay with it, I am not okay with it for me. This job is six months in and I still like it. Who would guess? I really like it that things got done. It is a good day.

Sorry about the surreal comment.

I thought the apricot honey was the real low point.


Have you ever loved someone so much and didn't know how much until they ended up being nothing like the person you loved? Or maybe they are the person you loved,...they have just warped out and the perception looks right but all of the sudden, I don't know. I hate being in this place of perception where it is changing and there is no way to not change it or to go back to before, only to wait until it settles and isn't in that sense of shock and shatteredness. I can remember talking to this woman once and trying to explain my feelings and using the illusion that I had a mirror and knew what I looked like and someone took an icepick right to the middle of it and there were shards of glass and reflection everywhere and I didn't know what I looked like any more. That is how I feel right now.

God said in a big booming voice STOP. START OVER. (okay maybe there was no voice, but situations collided enough it felt like a big booming voice) So I did. I stopped. I started over. I swear there were other people who claimed to be friends, who claimed they were on the same path, who claimed they were by my side. I know that they are my friends even now and if I were hurt or in emotional, mental, spiritual or physical pain of any kind and asked for help they would be there. I know that when I ask them to come to the wedding they will do everything they can to get there. I know that they are by my side, but they are no longer on the same path I am. It is a break in the mirror. What I saw is not what it is now. There is no way to fix the mirror.

The thing that is so unusual is that while I am shocked and hurt and overwhelmed, I am not surprised or concerned for their well being. I am not afraid...I know that the path they are on, even though it is not the path I am on, is the one they are supposed to be on. God has them. God has me. God has us, just not next to each other anymore.

Is this growing up? Is this being an adult? It is really heart wrenching.

A woman told me once that however much I love was equal to the amount of pain I would experience when there was a loss. I don't know that I have loss these friends, but I know that I have lost them on this road. Damn is she right.

Haven't you ever been in the depths of despair Marilla?

No, to despair is to turn your back on God.

I know that I have been in the depths of despair. I know that I have turned my back on God. I know that for unknown reasons, I believed that God was in a bottle of Jack Daniels or Crown Royal. I tried desperately to get to Him and couldn't. I know today that God isn't in that bottle. I know that when I drink, despair is just one of the things that goes wrong. You want to know the thing I hated most about drinking?

I couldn't stop.

I just wanted to be able to stop one night, just one...and know what it was like to be a normal person. I can remember coming to, crying over my Bible and wishing there was an answer in there. And there was, but I couldn't not drink in order to find out what it was.

When I am in a place these days that feels hopeless, powerless, demoralized, I recognize it is nothing like coming to in a hospital with little to no idea of how I got there. It is the places of granduer that get me. When I am on the top of "my" game. When "all the pistons are firing" and "things are going my way" is when I forget. It is when I am more likely to despair than any other. I don't want to have anything to do with the bad things that happen, but when it is good, when it is great, when it is better than great: like right now, I want to take all the credit.

My life couldn't be better than it is right now. I am in a great job where I get to do things I like. I am in a great relationship with a man who wants to declare committment to me in front of God and my family, where God is the center of that relationship. I have a hero, who is also known as a best friend who actually likes being around me. I have several girlfriends who want me in their life so much that they leave their children with me or list me as an emergency contact at school. I have the cutest apartment in three counties. I can pay all of my bills even when I forget to write down a check. I have a savings account that has money in it. I am going to visit my girlfriend in New Hampshire, who I have known my whole life and am so excited to have a friend like that. I have a relationship with my parents today that is not explosive and is grateful. I have a relationship with my brother today that is healthy. This is the top. This is where I have wanted to be since I was eighteen. This is where I was when I was sixteen. The top. The best at what I do. So is it mine to claim? Is it mine to say, "I did this"?

Only if I am in the depths of despair.

I had nothing to do with it.

But for the Grace of God go I.

Sick & Tired

More posters today...bleck, I am posted out.

So I have a confession to make: I am hate my weight.

I AM NOT saying that I am fat, because I am not. I am not saying that I am ugly, because I am not (except during pms and then the witchiness is brutal and ugliness is a byproduct). I am saying that I am not comfortable being the size I am. For the first time in my life I am not in shape and am heavier than I have ever been. In high school, I was an eight varsity letterman. I had my own letter jacket that did not belong to some ragged male who played football (stupid judge who gave me $60 charge for my running a redlight ticket asked me if it was my boyfriends or if I was cheerleader...SHE WAS A BLACK FEMALE JUDGE. You'd think she would not stereotype and I am still pissed and proud), it was mine. I was active in college on the volleyball team. I also danced every semester they would let me. I worked on a golf course hauling wood because them men there didn't think I could cut grass on the machines (not that I encouraged them to believe that I could because it was hot and sweaty) but would let me haul wood! I was in the best shape of my life as a result. I am in love and in gaged. . .engaged and heavier than I have ever been in my life. BLECK.

God give me the desire to be healthy.
God give me the desire to eat healthy.
God give me the desire to continue to be a better person.

I have begun to write down what I eat. YIPE. (Fear: what the hell do I eat? What if someone finds out that I am a lover of pasta and have secret meetings with Ben & Jerry's in the middle of the night?) I have begun to realize that what I eat sucks. YIPE. (Fear: What if I can never have sugar again?) I am not willing to rationalize my behavior. YIPE. (Fear: No more gym slacking? EVER?) I am just not willing to to live in fears and foods any more.

God give me your grace.......

Again.

Poster Day and a touch of grace

Today is poster day. I have a huge concert to prep for and the second round of information is posters. It is the hardest part of my job because it means that I have to go door to door and drop them off to every business in seven to ten cities in just one county. Unfortunately, our area doesn't operate off of just one county. No one I know stays in just one city (that is unless they were born and raised here and then they find that going from one city to the next even if the butt up against each other is too far to go...it is an odd mentality in contrast to Atlanta when you are never really sure what city you are in for any reason!) or one county. No one county seems to have everything you need so there is about a three to four county radius that extends out in order to get all the chores and shopping done. Although within the next ten years, I suspect this county will be self-sufficient.

The door to door thing is a throw back to when I used to drink and go to work at the same time. Being a door to door salesman, drinking is an easy thing to do because you just drink listerine and life is good and no one knows you are lit. But it makes me flip out a little emotionally. Not like pms does, but there are some definite butterflies in the stomach. Pms makes me PSYCHO. Not normal Rachel psycho, really bolt the door psycho. Which is why I stay in doors on those days with no one close by!

The good thing about poster day is that I get to wear sneakers and jeans with my t-shirt for the concert series. I am supposed to have a lady come for community service that is going to help me, but she isn't here yet which makes me believe that she is not coming. Oh well. I was hoping for help, but I guess I am out of luck. The other good thing is that all of the community people who critisize the city for not doing anything get to see me working to make the city better and mostly stop whining for about two seconds. Although the mentality regarding that is changing too. It is lessened in the past three months. It was worse when I first started. I guess that means that I am doing my job. Imagine that. Me being employable. That is not a Rae thing incase you are curious. Five and a half years ago I was a drinking on the job--unemployable person. Today, people want to employ me. Not me, just grace.

Speaking of grace: The Book of John is on his second sign. . .he is so etherial. Nothing about his gospel is anything like the others. He is the hoity-toity of the disciples. Some people say that he is the beloved disciple, but by the way he writes, it makes me think that he gave himself that title. My guess is that there will be seven signs to go with seven fires to go with seven goblets to go with seven keys to go with. . . yeah, I think Christ was out there going door to door and getting the word out and numbered signs were something that John is making up. Might be wrong though. Might be making folks mad by saying so too. Just my thoughts, that is all. I do like the fact that the centurian said I need help. Christ said, help is given and without question, the centurian said OKAY!!! (there is a happy dance in that okay)and ran off to see his son healed. That was a cool miracle.

Weird Life

Weirdness comes when we least expect it. I went to clean up the river yesterday and a group of us met at a central location. I didn't know anyone, but that didn't seem to matter. It was a common purpose and together we ventured. The weirdness came as the last three folks approached: a family of three, Dad, Mom and daughter. Mom had on an ASC sweatshirt. I asked her if she went to Scott and she said no that she had bought the sweatshirt from the battered women's shelter thrift store. . .yeah, it was mine. Weird.

Weirdness comes when we are totally afraid. If there is anything more terrifiying right now for me it is the concept of marriage. Forever is a long time and I am a flirty girl, yet I love John more than I have ever loved anyone ever. It makes me tear up just to think about him not being there. We are going to the priest next Friday to set a date for the wedding which I am sure will make lots of people on the outside happy, me I don't care. I just like the idea that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. I could have sworn we were looking at a spring wedding, even though I wanted a fall wedding (but this fall seemed unreasonable two weeks ago because it was so close) and now, he wants to be married before next February 27, which is the date he proposed to me. Since Episcopals do not marry during lent or advent (not that I want to be married in the winter anyway!) that leaves only this fall and I am not getting married in summer. So now this fall seems more reasonable. I could have sworn that my friend and florist was booked in November two weeks ago. We looked at her calendar, turns out she has four available weekends between October and November. (The third weekend in October is the prettiest and she has it open!) Wierd.

Weirdness comes when I am being nice. This woman who I met for the third time last night, is sweet as pie, has just begun a journey to seek God. I don't know if she realizes that, but she has. For the first time ever with this woman I don't understand the reasoning, I was not attached with her plight nor judgemental of her past. I was not condescending or hurting with my words. Usually, I am a witch when I first meet people and inevitably they say this line later on: "You know Rae, when I first met you, I thought you were a real witch but as it turns out you are not so bad." I finally gave up in overcoming that line about a year or so ago and decided who cares. If they end up realizing I am a good person afterall what difference does it make that they see my defects of character right off the bat? It felt good talking to this woman. She was easily relatable and not once did I say something rude. Weird.

Weirdness comes when I take care of me and let the world be its self. Last night I went to the gym, ran for 15 minutes and walked for 15 minutes consecutively and at high paces. I went home took a shower and went off to Grace where I met with friends to talk about God. I normally am very jealous of women, but last night there was not any jealousy. The two women who I have had to pray for many nights were of no threat at all and for some reason, last night I was not better than or less than them. I was a part of them. I wasn't doing anything different from what I normally do or maybe I was. I was taking care of me all day yesterday and putting one foot in front of the other and even though I may have had crazy thoughts, I didn't have crazy actions. That peace/serenity/calm whatever you call it was there last night. Weird.

Maybe it is not so much wierdness that I am experiencing as it is life with God (as opposed to life without God, which never is as good for me or life in fear which is awful because I know God is out there and I just can't get to Him). Reality is when I let God in, when I let go of my life, it is so much easier for me. Weirdness yes, Life with God, better than yes.

Life is short, Pray hard

80 degrees and sneezing is how I woke this morning. My AC is still out because I have not called the landlord until now and I had my windows open thinking it would cool off last night. WRONG. Stupid Spring. It never can make up its mind to be rain or summer or pollenated or what. I could have sworn that God gave Carter the allergies and me the glasses. I don't know how I ended up with some allergies. I wonder if that means that he will end up with crazy sight in his elder years.

Went to the future mother-in-laws and spent thursday through sunday. She intoduced me to everyone (even if I had met them previously) as her soon to be daughter! YIPE (fear) She is so excited because she has never gotten to be a part of a wedding before, which to me was sad because she has three children, two who have all been married. I am glad that she wants to be a part of all of it and is so proud to have me as a part of her family. YIPE (fear) It was a good visit, but very exhausting. (fears and yipes are exhausting to not express and wait until an appropriate time to express them) I am tired from smiling and trying to politely say, um well maybe not so much with wedding thoughts. For example NO WAY to frozen bunt cakes for a grooms cake, politely. YIPE.

See regular family to me is a bit scary so new family who I don't know at all make me flee from my skin. I didn't know this was going to happen, this fear of future family, but I hope God removes it quickly.

Removes the fear and the allergies.

We thank thee then, O father, for all things bright & good. . .

I am to the point in John where Mary presses upon Jesus to do his first miracle and he turns water into wine. It makes me laugh because there is a book called Lamb, gopel according to Biff, Christ's childhood pal. It is totally sacriligious. Some might even go as far as blasephemy. But it sure is funny. He uses this scene in his book, but instead of Christ only changing the water into wine, he also gets drunk. There is a funny scene about a camel that tickles my tummy. It is a book like rosencrantz and gildenstern perspectives on Hamlet. I love the role he gives Mary Magdalene in the book too. Funny but not true.

I do like the true stuff too because it tells me that Christ had an encouraging Mom too. Come on, I know you have potential, she says. You can do it, put a little power to it, she says. Then for no apparent reason, we hit our thirtieth year and poof. We emerge. Kinda wish my potential was in miracles and healing, but that's okay, I like my social eptitude and event planning skills.

. . . put de lime in the coconut and drink it all up . . .

There is nothing like a new store to make me spend money. On principal I hate that we have a new store because we don't really have a new store we have a store that upgraded for more land and a bigger floor base, but instead of expanding right where they were, they left their building standing empty (which is a good size building) and have moved across the street. Several things will happen as a result of them upgrading: bets are on that a local wine shop and organic produce store will fail, at least one out of the four pharmacies will fail, a florist will bite it, there will be more accidents than ever at the already difficult intersection they built at and there is an empty building in the middle of the city. There is nothing like it though. I went in there because I have no where else to shop for french vanilla fat free yogurt and since there was nothing in the old building I couldn't go there. I could give up french vanilla fat free yogurt, but it is one of the few healthy things I eat and I have started asking God to give me a desire to eat healthy today. Normally, when I go into that store, I spend right at fifty bucks, plus or minus a few bucks depending on specialties I might need (like band-aids or something) that I don't always get.

I SPENT $73.69.

Am I haveing friends over for dinner?

No.

Am I stark raving mad?

Why yes, yes I am.

There were all kinds of cool things in there that I have never seen in the small empty building. There were protien drinks that were chocolate mocha omigosh. There were pecan and cranberry granolas in the cereal section (which by the way goes great with bananas and french vanilla fat free yogurt for breakfast). There were real cheeses and real pastas and boiled shrimps and a greeting card aisle to avail myself to when I have half a day and can stand in front of seeking the perfect birthday card. They seduced me with their cheap books and legal addictive stimulants. And I will continue to go back over and over sometimes twice or three times in a week for noother reasons. I am so torn!

All in all, the reality of the situation is no matter how torn I am, I have no choice because I have no other grocery store to shop. What am I going to do? Start a vegetable garden on the back porch of my city apartment? Yeah, hell will freeze first.

Theological Rhetoric

I have finally finished the book of Luke and am not into the second small section of John. Matthew was verbatim talk, talk, talk of Christ, Christ, Christ. Mark had the secret identity of Peter and now Luke knows everything there was to know about the life, death and resurrection of Christ and kept writing and kept writing and kept writing. I wasn't really sure that I was ever going to get through Luke and then then last section was more like: and they lived happily ever after. He's a nut! Now I am beginning with John who IS NOTHING LIKE THE OTHER BOOKS. How is it that there are the first three who by the time I got to Luke knew pretty much what he was going to say because they were so similar and John is just out here on his own like a ship lost at sea. John just freaks me out with divination. I feel like I open the book and the heavens should open and sunlight shines down on me and a chorus of angels singing starts and when I close the book they go away again into darkness. It is very etherial. You think I am kidding, but have you really seen the way he writes? Good grief. Christ went from being this everyday kinda guy who I totally relate to and love, to this untouchable being of light who might melt me if I touch Him and am not sure that if I ran into Him would even consider Him a co-host to the David Copperfield show. I hope this book gets better. I mean I get that Christ is born of Man and God. I get that, but being a human and all, wasn't the idea to connect with us? I wonder if maybe John didn't write Revelations. That book scares me too. For no other reason than lack of comprehension and tens of thousands of people trying to comprehend it and tell me about it. SCARY. I don't care about the dadgum thing. It is nonsensical so leave it that way and accept it. Anyway, let's hope that John doesn't scare me into not reading any more and tames out a bit.

There are some pieces of music that evoke enough emotion that it takes me straight to a memory of my life so fiercely I want to act on it. A lot of people think that I am crazy when I talk like this and my family knows exactly what I mean. I am sure for my Mom it is a constant because if you say certain words she starts singing using those words. Mom has a song for every word in the English language (and some foreign languages) except poinsetta. Dad on the other hand appears to be moved by the quality of the music. He can hear the same piece of music sung by two different groups and one of them will knock his socks off. The way that you know, is that he makes no comments other than, "that's it," or "man" and then just walks off to his bedroom or office or sitting room. Then there is Carter (and his roommate Ben for that matter) who when for no particular reason will burst into a cantata or something random he is learning in choir or something he has already learned a hundred years ago, but likes the effect he has on the people who jump at the loud choral voice.

Me, I don't really sing, except at the meal times when it is the least appropriate and when I am at Sherry's house, Grace reminds me that I am at her house and it is against the rules. Or her brother Cooper gives me that look like RAY-CHEL! Right, no singing at the table, but for some reason, I can't stop myself. If I am in the Huddle House it is really bad. They always have the most singable songs on.

This morning I was on my way to work, and I don't know why this happened the way that it happened. I have a new cd that is the Best of U2 from 1980-1990. It might not be new to the rest of the world, but it was nine bucks at Wallyworld and is one of my all time favorite groups of all time and couldn't resist and ended up with a new cd. It was haphazardly in my cd player in the car. I don't know if it was the music and the sun or the cool air. I don't know if it was gratitude of the way that my day was headed or the comfortability I feel with my life right now. I don't know. I attribute the sudden memory jump to the music. It is the third track on the cd, "With or without you" that caught me off guard. I was immeadiately to that place the first time I heard it. I think I was fifteen or sixteen years old and it was summer at the pool and my good friend Casey was there. He is the one who intoduced me to U2. He was driving me in his car (so it is possible that I was fourteen) and it was on the cd player. I can smell the leather in his car. I think we were on the way to swim practice or a swimmeet or coming back from the Pizza Cafe. I know that if my parents had known that I was riding around with a teenager in a car they would have shot me, but once they found out that it was Casey, they didn't mind so much. Maybe he was taking me home from the pool. I don't know. He was always so nice to me. I loved Casey, but not like a teenage girl has a crush on a teenage boy, but more like he was my friend and he took care of me when I needed it and was just nice to me. I was a pest I am sure because generally when I was that age I was a pest. Lots of the older kids in Avondale were not nice to me, but he was. He taught me how to swim. He taught me how to swear. He taught me about U2 and REM. He taught me when to be quiet and when it was okay to let go. He taught me to be competitive and to keep pushing myself. He taught me how to play corner tag and not get caught and if I did get caught, how to immeadiately catch someone else. Although, he did have a slight advantage that I will never have, he was six-four and could hold his breath longer than any person I had ever met. He would stand on the bottom of the pool and reach up and grab my leg and sink me everytime and I would never know he was there.

I can't imagine being him though. His Dad had Lou Garig's disease (spelling) and his oldest brother had AIDS in a time where people were still not sure what AIDS was. He had to stand there and let his Dad die because there was a DNR on him and Casey knew CPR and could have saved him. He didn't speak for about a month after that happened. His brother died when we were life guards together. It was sad and he never brought it up. It was something I read in the paper when I was first learning to read the paper outside of the comics. His younger brother was a holy terror. There were five of them altogether and I think probably Casey might have had a terror streak in him too, he just knew how to get away with it and Jeremy didn't have a clue.

Casey almost never smiled. He almost never spoke either. I remember when he started dating his first real girlfriend. I was so mad. I did not like her. He dated her forever, like they might be married forever. I don't know why I didn't like her other than when she was around he didn't pay attention to me any more. I became the essence of the little sister that he never had. My hands on my hips and my pouted lips with the very idea that he would go off and like some silly girl who couldn't even swim. All she did was lay out. I am sure he must have really liked her.

I loved him though. I don't know where he is or what he is doing. I don't know anything, but I know that my heart is with him when I listen to this music.

Shaved legs, painted toes and short skirts: Spring is here. Thank goodness. The whole spring forward is very warping to the mind, body and soul, but who would guess it would cause a tornado warning? Guess God got warped out too! Tornado was what I awoke to this morning. I thought my apartment was going to cave in and turns out it was a spring shower bringing me May flowers. I had quite a thematic weekend, can ya tell? It was enegizing and refreshing all the way around.

First things first, the movies were firing with teeny boppedness. I watched a personal favorite of mine from Netflix: Some kind of Wonderful. Great 80's kick off. Then on the girls night out with Grace & Sherry there was She's the Man. It was funny but terrifyingly bad and all about the teeny bopperness. Spending time with girlfriends was great. Then to round it out, Netflix sent me another oldy but goody: St. Elmo's Fire. I think I like the movie so much because I can relate.

Finally, there was the rearranging of the closet. It was not an easy task to find something in my closet that was eighty degrees during the day and forty at night. It took some work to get to my khakis and short sleeves, but they have been unearthed. Today I am in my famous black flowered skirt my Mom got me from New York City and purple sleevless top with a black cashmere sweater to throw over my shoulders in air conditioning and evenings. Yesterday for church is was a long, light black and tan skirt with sandals and sleeveless hepburn necked cotton top. Huzzah.