Goofy

I guess if I had to use one word to describe myself, it would be "goofy":

1. I sign up for stuff in a flurry of excitement, convince myself that I really want to go inspite of much evidence to the contrary, and then at the last minute I don't want to go.


2. I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to please strangers but then blow off my family.


3. I shun real life relationships in favor of back-and-forth single paragraph blog-friendships.


4. I spend a ton of $$ to pursue things I really don't want (see #1, i.e gyms, classes, etc).


5. I volunteer for things and then don't show up (the guilt is a killer, but obviously less than the effort it takes to just show up and get involved).


6. I join groups that I know I won't fit in to to hang out with people I have nothing in common with, who I know will ultimately reject me (makes sense, no?).


7. I go to church when it bores me to tears, hate singing (in public, for all the world to see-- worse than standing there in my underwear), and am fearful of the nice people..


8. I somehow end up taking New Age classes and am then completely weirded out by how creepy and lost the people are-- and offended at their disdain for my beliefs. Why is it that sooooo many of them have completely absent/vacuous eyes, as if they have no soul?


9. I complain about having nothing to do but then sit on my ASS when I have plenty of time to get out and whip up an adventure (usually on the computer).

Etc and etc... I could go on forever.

I also realized when speaking with someone the other day that *nothing* in my life fits together:
I'm a:

• fairly conservative Christian (+/-) who loves yoga, swears like a sailor, and adores most everything else no one in my church likes (art, dirty movies on HBO... and martinis!)


• nurse who believes in alternative medicine, accupuncture, supports not vaccinating, etc


• conservative politically with a longstanding interest in protecting the environment, organic farming, alternative energy, etc and etc.
  Boo.
  
  And if all this weren't goofy enough, apparently someone I've recently gotten to know has me pegged as a baby stalker/snatcher:
  I chatted back and forth with this gal via e-mail for weeks; I offered support and assistance with my background as a nursery nurse for her concerns regarding nursing, etc --even met twice for lunch and chatted in person for several *hours*. We seemed to have quite a bit in common.
  But now that the baby's come, she tells me that her husband doesn't want me talking with her any longer; she's not interested in pursuing a friendship and doesn't want me to come and see the baby or e-mail her anymore...
  
  As if!
  
  I used to get *paid* to visit moms and babies at home, and never once had a hankering to steal, pinch, or otherwise cast an evil eye at a single one (knowing what troublesome little critters they are, and what they rapidly become has been a good deterrent). That, and it's fairly well known that I am not exactly a "baby person"; I've come to see them after so many years as a nursery nurse as, well, WORK. I'm not going to trip over myself and beg anyone to hold their baby... they all kindof look the same to me and are fairly unpredictable, wiley little creatures whose moms can do all the cooing and holding, TYVM, at least until the're about 3 and start running and jumping and talking and capable of more fun times than just crying and pooping.
  Goofy.
  I even made a super cute hand-sewed bacon n eggs bib and had the blogging ladies sign a card, but I guess I can file those away until I can find another pregnant woman to stalk and harass with my offers of trained support, friendship, and handmade gifts. Egads!
  I always thought the polite thing to do when trying to dissuade a friendship that isn't going anywhere was to not answer e-mails, phone calls, etc-- not send a creepy "Dear John my husband doesn't want me talking to you in case you're a serial killer cleverly disguised as a nurse who also happened to attend the same church I do". WHAT-everrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
  An average of 1-2 e-mails a week does not a stalker make, but it just feels strange to have someone react to you in this manner, as if you committed some huge faux pas instead of trying to be nice and make a new friend. I guess that's the risk you take when you start meeting people on the scary in-tra-net.
  But in this instance, I think she's the goofy one-- n'est pas?
  Really tho, I didn't need another nice, Christian gal to bluntly refuse to associate with me-- and another Grace (church) lady at that!
  Those women must truly be able to see me for what I REALLY am: a fairly normal person who refuses to pretend or perpetute the illusion that I'm perfect (a serious crime, I know, but one I've paid the price for in every MOPS group I've joined, Bible study, retreat, mother-daughter campout, and small group I've participated in since becoming a deeply flawed Christian. Anyhoodle).
  I suppose I should move on, before I give you the impression that my feelings are hurt... (Totally not appropriate, I know...)

On a side note, I've learned so much about myself in the last two years, it isn't even funny:
Some tidbits, mostly work related--

• I don't like office nursing. I don't like catering to all the return patients, the endless phone calls, med refills, etc and etc. I love the variety and fast pace of hospital nursing, where you see new faces quickly, over and over again.



• I don't like working all sorts of different places. I want to establish a routine with set hours, days, work duties. I'm sick of having 3 different things to learn and do, with different shifts to adjust to.



• My kids need more responsibilities
  



• I am sooo spoiled with my pool wage that I'll face any permanent position with trepidation, as it would mean a significant pay cut.
  



• I would only like to work THREE days per week at best. I function so much better and have greater home/work balance when I follow this.



• I *hate* sit down jobs where I have open ended responsibilities-- I am not good at self direction and tend to flounder about in aimlessness all day.



• I NEED TO WORK. Being home every now and again is very helpful to get stuff done about the house, but it tends to make me melancholy--neurotic, even. I was feeling pretty blue this am, but after being at work for an hour or so and forced to be perky and friendly, I completely forgot about being bummed and felt 100 times better... cheaper than therapy, and pays better, too. I noticed quite a few staff were cranky this morning, too. Must be the weather... I dread going to work in theory, but in practice it's usually better than being home all by my lonesome, surrounded by things I probably should be doing (but probably won't, tee hee).



• I really don't like doing things by myself, except shopping-- that I prefer to do alone.



• I don't want any more things in my life I have to take care of. That includes gardens, animals/pets, plants, and, of course, children (see "baby snatcher" post above).



• I have too damn many hobbies; I am strangely talented at a great many things, but not exceedingly good at ANYTHING. Some people have a passion for cooking, sewing, knitting... I'm pretty darn good at all those things and more, but have no great passion or talent for any one thing in particular. Jack of all trades, master of none (in my private life as well as at work, go figure...) . Is it a gift-- or a curse?



• I adore my husband, the super handsome guy I'm fortunate to be able to sleep with whenever I am (or HE's) awake enough to.



• I am not so worried about my kids as I let on; I think they're actually pretty smart, level headed people and will end up just FINE. I'm the one that's overreacting most of the time, while they behave like normal children.

Spiritual Constipation

After sitting in church this am and listening to our (awesome) pastor (this is the guy who dressed up like the "red pill blue pill"character from the Matrix and did a few sermons, Matrix style), I realized that I am likely suffering from a form of spiritual constipation:

To be a Christian entails some degree of being in relationship with other followers, and I am avoiding it like the plague. Because, as Bob says: being a Christian means you have committed to not only loving God, but loving all people-- unconditionally. And since *true* love (vs romantic love) is a gift, a choice--it requires you to lay yourself open, leaving you vulnerable to being hurt. And since I have been found lacking in so many ways and snubbed in the past (the spurned lover! a tale as old as time...), I realized that I have found it less painful to discount my fellow parishoners out of hand, before they get the opportunity to reject me-- turning me into the bitter, lonely old gal I have become. Snif!

Because it is always easier to love people you know aren't going to reject you...

BUT: being afraid of rejection is no excuse for becoming an asshole.

The tech people (my husband among them, of late), are starting to put Bob's sermons on line. He just completed a series on the origins of the universe, which incorporated a fair amount of philosophy 201 and a smidgen of quantum physics. Bob (and lots of other pastors, truth be told) always says not to leave your intellect and scepticism at the church door on Sunday, which a long time doubter like me can appreciate. I am hoping those sermons make it, and soon-- my attention span isn't so great, and I probably take in about 35% of what is said (the doodling and list making probably don't help). He mentioned something a couple weeks ago about how the phrase "All Men Are Created Equal" would not have been spoken in a culture that espoused an evolutionary worldview (which, in the secret, blackest, depth of my heart I sometimes embrace, much to my shame.) And for some reason, I thought it was important enough to write down on my program. Wish I remembered why...
http://riverwood.net/

My Husband's Infidelity:

My husband received a call yesterday, which he was very hush hush about-- in fact, he was cowering in the corner on the phone, almost whispering-- making himself as conspicuously inconspicuous as he could, which immediately aroused my suspicions.

Was it my greatest fear (of late) come true? Was he indeed setting up an evening rendezvous, abandoning his wife and kids for yet another night? Noooooooooooo!






But yes, my husband, despite my protests, agreed to work the sound board for the worship team at church. Ugh!

Which normally, in a different time, wouldn't have been a problem. You see, at one time, I was just as eager to jump in and participate in the church experience as any new Christian would be...but after realizing, after many painful attempts, that I don't fit the "profile" of a pious Christian woman, I want nothing to do with it.

Point in case:

1) I swear. Sometimes, a lot. I heard one time in Bible study that Jesus would fix this somewhere along the way, but he hasn't gotten around to it yet. Shit.

2) I have an adventurous streak that nice, churchgoing folk just don't seem to get. I have no desire to scrapbook as my primary outlet of socialization; I don't sponge paint-- I could care less about decorating my Christian home with stenciled Bible verses on the walls, and I much prefer my Pee Wee Herman collection in the china cabinet to acrylic crosses from the local Christian bookstore. I want to hike, and bike, and interact with God's creation. And I have an incredible urge to shake my booty every now and again! If any of the congregation members we've met in the past 8 years has had an interesting past anywhere along the way, they've done a STELLAR job of concealing it. I like how my past has made me into who I am today, and I hate how much that threatens my fellow churchgoers.

3) I like sinners. They're fun, and they're real people. Give me an openly practicing homosexual anyday vs. a calm, quiet, constantly smiling, (vacuous), clammyhanded Christian, who will make you feel like you're from a different planet, even when you're on your very best behavior. I know these people are hiding something... I'd rather know what I'm in for when I'm dealing with people. Plus, I'm sick of always trying to hide who I am-- I don't have to do that with people who aren't hiding who they are, either. I figure, if you're always trying to hide your sins, how are you ever going to overcome them? You aren't. And those ever smiling, always happy people creep me out, big time. Zoloft, anyone?

4) I LOVES ME A TASTY COCKTAIL!!!! Where o where in the Bible does it say that "thou must abstain from the evil wiles of the Chocolate City Martini (a la BJ Wentkers)"? Really, when those tasty friends o my soul are $9 a pop, I verily shall avoid wanton drunkenness.

5) After many attempts, I have realized that I am not a fan of Christian music (Third Day is the only exception. That lead singer has a great voice and isn't to hard on the eyes).
Ok, ok-- you love Jesus! Me too! But your music is still lame.
Have you ever been to a Chriatian concert? Bizarre. You can hop around and do the "Christian Bop", but no dancing. Dancing is bad. And don't wiggle too much, either... Watch those hips!
And I have met the stupidest, most irritating folks at Christian concerts. I'm sorry-- if you have a baby, and you can't find a sitter, don't sit in the 5th row, right in front of the speakers, unless you have a special "hearing aid" fund for little Elijah. This is a bad parent maneuver I'd expect to see at the Grateful Dead concert, not the "Jesus Jubilee" at the Grace Church in Racine.
And no, I do NOT want to drive 50 miles out of my way at 1 am after a concert to find the nearest Krispy Kreme (with the Young Adult Ministry group-- dude!). I really don't think the drunks in Skokie thought it was funny that you were messing with them in the Drive Thru, giving yet another example of God's grace that you didn't get a cap popped in yo ass. I learned that night that downing a dozen doughnuts is an acceptable balm for the deep seated pain these young adults bear for their lack of casual sex and abstention from drugs and alcohol.
I resolved that night that my kids wouldn't grow up to be so gosh-darn DORKY. Kids, if you're still playing with video games and saying "dude" at 26, I will harass you relentlessly.

I'm just wondering what this new development will mean for Jake and my spiritual relationship: We've always cycled in our own little orbits; when I was a budding new Holy Roller, Jake wanted nothing to do with it (I think he was afraid I'd make him get rid of his porn collection-- and these days, I'm wishing I hadn't!) The Worship Team folks asked a few weeks ago if I wanted to do Power Point, which would be fine, I guess-- but when I told them I'd be happy to, since "I hate to sing, and it would be great since I wouldn't have to anymore", they kindof backed away slowly, as if my horns were briefly visible and the truth was revealed that I wasn't the full fledged convert they thought I was. Tee hee. That's ONE way to keep from being asked...

In Answer to Your Question, Part 1:

In response to the two comments I received earlier today (thank you, BTW!):
I really do love the gothic history and architecture of the Catholic church; I could sit and stare for hours at the statues, paintings and stained glass if the pews weren't so damn hard and I could understand a word of what they were saying
But really, I wish I could-- 'cause my daughter attends a very costly Catholic high school, and I know I'd be saving a bundle if we converted.
And to answer Heather's question (and remember, you DID ask): when I was a kid, I was a natural born atheist. I had a gut feeling that Jesus and Santa Claus were invented by our parents to trick us into good behavior, and in my deep conviction, I told every kid in my Sunday school class from age 6 on. I was a stinker, and eventually I shamed my mother into letting us sleep in on Sundays.
But, in retrospect, I never gave Christianity a chance. I had no idea what it was really about-- I grew into adulthood thinking it was about shame, fear, and the old "tricking us into good behavior" bit. My spiritual thought processes hadn't evolved one iota from my 6 year old misperceptions…pretty sad, if you think about it.
Spiritually lost, I wandered through young adulthood, taking the Modern Intellectual's standard journey thru the alternative traditions: shamanism (lived on an indian reservation), Wicca (my firstborn was "Wiccanized" at a Pagan Gathering when she was a baby—but please, keep that under your hat), was a whiz at the Tarot, and even visited a Rainbow Gathering or 2 (eek! Don't ask...)
I ultimately thought I'd discovered the best of *all* worlds when I stumbled upon the Unitarians, who provided a really good pseudo church-like experience with all the standing, sitting, singing and other vaguely familiar rituals that simulated a religious experience fairly well, without all the messy responsibility of committing to actually BELIEVING or worshiping anything in particular (other than your own cleverness at being able to circumvent the "rules", tee hee.) My spiritual growth came to a standstill under the guidance of the Unitarians, where I came to realize that singing praises to the "Spring Flowers" and "Winter Spirits" while dancing the Jewish dance and singing the "Rainbow Connection" wasn't bringing me any closer to an understanding of God or my place in the world. So I quit going.
But when your kids get old enough, it's fairly common to get freaked out about how insane the world is and try to find answers; ways to protect your kids from harm and from making the same stupid mistakes you did. Wandering aimlessly thru life is not a terribly productive way to spend your adult years, and I was hoping to spare my children the legacy of confusion I had wrestled with since childhood.
Eventually I grew tired of making up my values as I went along, realizing that I didn't have the first clue how the world fit together, completely stymied at how to convey our values--right from wrong--to my kids, when I had no idea what they were. So life, being the cyclical journey that it is, pointed me back to the beginnings of my spiritual quest. I had explored the alternative belief systems and found them lacking (the naked wedding at the Pagan Gathering was pretty much a "no Wicca" deal clincher for me), and thusly decided to give the religion of my forefathers a genuine chance.
I church shopped for a long time: I began enthusiastically with my childhood church, the Lutherans, and everything was familiar and hunky dory until I realized that I had not the slightest clue what any of the traditions were, not even the most basic ones. Why were they randomly quoting from the Bible? Why couldn’t I understand what the Bible readings were all about? What was the creepy reason behind drinking Christ’s blood (and eating his body? Yecch!) And when I mustered up the courage to ask the minister what "communion" meant, not only didn't he understand the depths of my ignorance, but he could barely explain it to me!
It was at that point that I realized I was on my own; I had negotiated myself thru doubt and pride into my atheism, and only I could wrangle myself out of it. Instead of continuing to use my intelligence to stunt my growth, I decided it was time to break free from cynicism and learn actually learn something USEFUL, dammit.
I realized early on that I needed a church that explained everything, pretty much word for word-- sort of a "Christianity for Dummies" kind of experience-- which was only to be found in a non-traditional church. In my efforts to read and understand the Bible on my own, I was lost, utterly lost. This eliminated the Catholics, Lutherans, Episcopalians, etc, and anyone else who expected me to yodel hymns written in another century or another language (I can’t sing).
I also wanted to avoid the snake handlers and tongue speakers, thankyouverymuch, which took quite a number of churches off the table as well.
(to be continued...)

Good Friday?

Once again, the holidays have arrived, and we aren't in the least bit prepared for them: I have bought all the kids' their (pagan) Easter basket stuff , but I still haven't mustered up the requisite "Easter" feelings necessary to fully participate in this holiday.

IDK, maybe it's because I was such a naughtygirl at heart growing up-- I just never made the connection between a bloodied and tortured God-as-man and sugar coated marshmallow chicks in a pastel basket (um, but it's not like Jesus was wearing a bunny costume and tossing colored eggs at the crowds... Really, He wasn't).

I think it's the problem I have with all the religious holidays: am I religious, a believer-- a true follower? Or am I, like most of us in the culture, simply clinging to the meaningless childhood rituals of overconsumption?
'Cause Lord knows, I've consumed enough...

I have the same existential dilemma during the Christmas season: is it about the birth of our Lord and savior, or the happy anticipation of a jolly obese man bearing food and gifts?
'Cause again, I surely got enough crap to fill TWO Airstream trailers and an extra storage unit, to boot.

I would really prefer that holidays weren't religious at all: I would like the freedom to celebrate the "Spring" ritual of welcoming the warmer weather and return of the birds and flowers with chocolate, sugar, and lots of color; without the pressure to "feel" anything more profound than happiness that I am no longer freezing my ass off and reveling in my depressive state.

And then, when the time is right, feel the profound wonder of how our loving God came to earth, not in the form of a king, but as a pauper born into a shit filled cave, helpless and needy and depending on the failings of common, everyday people to help him as he grew into adulthood-- and then was welcomed, one week, as a precious guest by an adoring group of followers-- only to be turned on by the same people and tortured, mocked, humiliated, stripped of dignity, and brutally murdered, Ed Gein style. This Jesus could have snapped His fingers and kicked our deserving asses for being flaky, for being so blind, vindictive, and horrific-- but instead, He died for us, choosing to endure every awful aspect of being a human, just so He could experience what it's like to be US and then take the burden of responsibility for all the crappy things *we* do onto Himself. Pretty unbelievable.

I couldn't take communion tonight, because I just can't reconcile the chocolate with the weight of what God chose to do, and what so many of us, myself included, just can't fathom. Any suggestions?