Train Rides and Thoughts on Purpose.

I have so much inside of me tonight, but I’m having a really hard time starting to write. Honestly, I’ve started and stopped, and erased, and started and stopped about 12 times. I have already broken my commitment to write everyday this year, and that sucks. Honestly the derail happened due to wanting to be intentional with spending time with the people that have been currently round me (and that doesn’t suck, FYI). For instance, my brother Scott visited from home, and instead of insist on taking time out of my day to sit down and write while he was here, I vowed to write a summary of the whole trip once he left. However, that will have to come later. As, right now, I don’t really want to write a summary about anything…I simply want to try and write out some of the things that are wirrrrring within my heart.

Who am I? What am I doing here on Earth? Why does it matter?

No really.

Right now I am currently typing on my computer while riding a train back into Los Angeles. There’s something about riding on a train that always propels me to want to write. In fact, I really like trains. Often, when I was a youngster, I’d imagine what it would have been like to live back in a time when trains were simply the main source of long-distance travel. You see, there’s certain elegance, or maybe it’s simply an over-romanticizing, that I feel trains possess. Regardless of whatever attachment I may have to this source of transportation, I cannot deny the fact that the gentle swaying of the car, and the elegant music swarming into my ears from my headphones, makes my current surroundings very conducive to wanting to write. Not necessarily being successful at the act, but desiring it nonetheless.

I struggle sometimes with caring. I honestly struggle with wondering why anything matters in the world. Why does it matter that I’m alive, why does it matter that you’re alive, why does it matter that I care about either? However, when you tell somebody those things, they tend to look at you with frightened eyes, suggest you see a doctor, and scamper off…not knowing how to address the seemingly dark and ominous questions you’ve presented before them. Is it wrong of me to think that my questions on this matter aren’t wrong? Is it wrong of me to feel like there must be people like me? Maybe they don’t struggle with these same questions constantly, but who feel the gentle heart-tugs that whisper every now and again “Does it…really…matter?” “Do you really matter?” What are you striving for? Really? Why? That doesn’t matter at all.”

I can’t be the only one.

There are times, like tonight, as the train lulls me into typing, that I feel so…lost. So purposeless. So utterly unresponsive to the whispers of beauty around me. And, I was doing so well for a while. I’ve been really intentional with seeing the beauty in the things around me, with making friends, with caring. And, tonight, the dark questions are slowly creeping in over the light. But, that doesn’t scare me. No. What scares me is the fact that I’m not scared. What scares me is the fact that I’m not sure if I should be scared or not.

I don’t think I’m depressed, but I do think I tend to let my mind wander to places that perhaps it shouldn’t? I’m not sure. And, I think that sometimes when I let my mind wander too much, the only things that seem beautiful, the only things that seem worth pursuing, are the ones that are far off. The ones that I cannot, for whatever reason, in this current time, have.

Tonight, my heart just cries out to feel the weight of the reality around me. I don’t want to struggle with the dark questions of purpose. Tomorrow, when I wake up, I want to feel the sunshine on my face, and see the beauty that spreads through the earth because of it. I want to hear a baby laugh, and be able to laugh with him. Not because I think he’s particularly funny, on the contrary, few babies are born of the immediate hilarious breed…simply because I want to be able to partake in the beauty of his innocent joy. This is not something that is easy to participate in when you’re struggling with the question of “purpose.”

Something that keeps coming into my mind are the words of the apostle Paul when he wrote to the church of Philippi: ²¹ For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. ²² If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! ²³ I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; ²⁴ but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. ²⁵ Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, ²⁶ so that through my being with you again your boasting in Christ Jesus will abound on account of me.”

I know that I have several theology major friends, and pastors who might come across me taking this passage out of context and scold me for it. But, honestly, I don’t care. It’s what is currently the only positive thing rattling around my head and so I’m going to cling to it, and talk about it…in context or not.

I guess, the overall feeling I walk away from after reading this particular part of Paul’s letter, is the fact that Paul was struggling with what he thought his purpose to be too. And that’s reassuring. Or, maybe he wasn’t struggling with what he thought his purpose on earth to be, but maybe…the importance of it. He wanted to go home. Christi-summary: “If I am going to live on this earth, the thing that I have to focus on is Christ…but, selfishly, I really, really, really want to go home. It will be infinitely better to be home with Jesus, than it will be to be here on earth, in prison, and with you people who I have to write these ridiculously long explanatory letters to. I love you, but seriously, these things are long.”

Something in me resonates with this tonight. Honestly, I want to jump over the voluminous woman sitting next to me, stand up in the middle of the train aisle and bellow “WHY AM I HERE, GOD?! AND YOU” *points to loud lady up a few rows* “WHY ARE YOU HERE, AND YOU, *points* AND YOU, *points* AND YOU!? Do none of you stop to ask yourself why!?”

Gosh darnit, I do. I want to know why. I want to know why so badly. SO BADLY. And, I guess the only thing that I feel God saying in return is “Because. Honey, you are my example, you are my fingerprint, and for the current time that you are alive, I need you to represent me. I need you to be the evidence that this world needs.”

Would it be a sin of me to tell Him back, that tonight I don’t want to be? Tonight I’m not satisfied by that answer? That, tonight, I want to feel purpose here? Tonight I want to be able to look to the person on my left and say “Do you know how to feel purpose? No? Well, let me tell you, you feel it by doing A, B, C, and D...” But no. I can’t. I can’t, because I know without a shadow of a doubt that doing these things do not bring purpose… as much as I may want them too. I know that getting a job at Disney or Pixar, or having the opportunity to schmooze with some of the biggest and best in the industry doesn’t bring purpose. Why? Because, I’m doing those things currently…maybe not to the same extreme that some are, but I can taste it. The fulfillment of my dreams is on the tip of my tongue. And, I can promise you, although the flavor brings immediate temporary-satisfaction of self, overall purpose, and sustenance, is lacking greatly. So greatly, that tonight I felt the need to write it all out.

Tonight I want to go home. Tonight I don’t want to feel empty, and alone, or to be writing a stupid blog post on a swaying train regarding the fact that I feel empty, and alone, and feel purposeless. Tonight I want to understand what my greater purpose is for. Tonight I selfishly want to feel fulfillment from un-Christ like things. And, I don’t. And I never will… and, it frustrates me, despite the fact that I know my perspective is off. I’m weak.

I guess, I know that my conversation topics can be pretty heavy, but I don’t understand how some people can go through life and not have some of these questions. I don’t know why pastors, or highly intelligent people, when I bring these concerns to them, look at me with those scared eyes and say “Oh, well, maybe you should see a doctor, or a counselor, or…get involved with several of our woman community groups.” Pardon my French, but that’s complete bull-poop.

It’s time to get serious about some of these questions. About, purpose. About the constant struggle that we, as Christians, will always feel regarding purpose. The push and pull between wanting to be Christ’s fingerprints here on earth, to use our talents where we are…but also, the deep longing our hearts will ALWAYS have for “more”, for…home.

Don’t ignore those longings for more. Don’t write it off when you hear someone say “Oh, you’re wondering about why you’re here on earth? Well, that’s kind of dark, isn’t it?” No. It’s not. In fact, I wager to say that if you, as a Christian weren’t feeling those things or haven’t felt or thought through those things, then you haven’t really struggled with the idea of Purpose…or the idea of finding your identity in something other than the unimportance that surrounds you 95% of the time. And that, I would wager to say, is a far greater thing to fear, than those presumably dark thoughts themselves. Because, first off, I think there’s a certain responsibility that one feels and walks with, when they know what their ultimate purpose in life is. Or, they’ve at least begun to wrestle with it. Secondly, the fact that death itself, (the DARKEST earthly topic we as humans can fixate on) was conquered by our savior is something to be CELEBRATED, not feared. We have a brilliant flame of eternal hope, which can never be quenched by the darkest earth dark. We, have the ultimate reason to look death, and darkness in the face, and to smile with the assurance of eternal living with our Pappa. Why then, do we shy away from talking about it? Why then, do we shuffle people who are struggling with purpose, and with “I don’t feel like I should be here on earth” – questions, into fluffy support groups and watered down consoling. I don’t want watered down food, I don’t want watered down messages, I don’t want watered down advice, I want to hear the truth. Life sucks, purpose isn’t here. It’s as simple as that, People. If you’re struggling as a Christian because you feel a constant push and pull, by golly, please if anything, walk away knowing you’re not wrong to question these things…and you’re definitely not alone in your purpose pursuit. I for one, feel I will be struggling right along with you for the rest of my days.

Lastly, I’m ridiculously tired of having more purposeful exploratory conversations with my non-Christian friends than I do my Christian friends. I’m tired of not being able to openly talk with some Christians I know, about some of these “dark” thoughts I have, for fear of them not knowing how to answer me, because they’ve never allowed themselves to struggle to find their own solutions to these questions. They rely on the answers that they’ve been spoon-fed and that have been regurgitated throughout the years through their theology and traditions. I just…I for one, cannot not struggle with these things, and I cannot not admit that I wrestle with the idea of purpose anymore.

I recommend that everyone should ride a train sometime. Let your mind wander to places that many don’t suggest it to wander to. Allow yourself to ask hard questions. And, for goodness sakes, you tough question-askers, remind me that you’re there. Tonight, I desperately need to know I’m not alone.

Luffs and stuffs,

CP

GASPS!

My brother is here!

Year of Creativity - Day 3 - I'm blind, and I love Ewoks

I'm going to make this post short. I'm beyond tired, and am practically typing blind, because I'm not wearing my glasses. Side note, Yes. For all those who don't know, when I'm without my spectacles, I really can't see anything at all, including your face. I really hate wearing glasses, and I really need a new pair because mine give me terrible headaches, so seldom will you see me with them on except when I drive. Or when I really want to see your face. But, I can't think of a reason that would make me want to look at your face that sharply. I've gotten used to the softer look of most things.

Tonight, I went to Hope Chapel and although the message was awesome as usual, I am not feeling up to typing out a summary, because I'm a sleepy-head. But, instead, I would like to share a funny that happened during the service: The pastor used the term "Epoch" during his message tonight, and although I internally applauded the use of the rather rare word, I couldn't help but giggle a bit, because instead of "Epoch" I imagined he said "Ewok" and instantly my mind was transported to StarWars. Totally made my evening.

The End. Story time over.


Sweet dreams you crazies. You make my world sunshiny. 

Year of Creativity - Day two - The Great Key Saga

Oh my goodness, guys. I'm a mentos addict. Somebody take this foil tube of slightly circular squishy candies away from me before I eat them all.

...too late. Great, now I feel like a sugar-buzzed fatling.

Welp, now that my highly nutritious dinner is completed, I shalt begin my key-saga.

Actually, before we get started, allow me to tell you, in summary, my relationship with keys. People, I am hands down, one of the worlds worst key-keepers. If you give me a key, I will undoubtedly misplace it MANY times during the duration of its' sad little life with me. My morning routine usually consists of me leaving myself a good 10 minutes of extra time to play my favorite morning game "Where are the keys hiding this time?" This game consists of Christi running around, looking under pillows, on shelves, in drawers and on top of all the flat surfaces in her apartment for her sneaky little keys. What makes this game more interesting is a current addition to Christi's daily wardrobe: her motorcycle helmet. As you can imagine, this adds an extra layer of challenge to these lovely morning festivities. For, her peripheral vision is undoubtedly obscured a good 40%, and her head sized increased a good 50%. However, those pesky little key-hiders never go unnoticed, for, she always manages to locate them one way or another, big head and all.

I'm not sure how I started writing in third person, but I think this might be a good time to stop being a weirdo and switch back to normal writing. *Eheeem* So, yes, folks. I have a hard time keeping tabs on my keys. For all I know, at night they're out partying with the neighborhood keys while I'm all snoozin' and stuff. Shame. On. Me.

But, now onto my key saga; the tale I originally desired to ramble on about...

Tonight, after work, I rode my leedle motorbike (PS - I LOVE MY MOTORCYCLE WITH ALL THE LOVES IN MY HEART) to Orchard Supply and Hardware on Bundy street, a delightful little hardware store, just under a mile from my apartment. I remember the first time I went to Orchard Supply, I literally thought it was going to be a store filled with apple-growing supplies and such. That night I was on a quest for Mason Jars, I wanted to bake leedle banana breads' in them. Like dis:

Unfortunately, Orchard Supply store was NOT an apple-growing supply store as I originally hoped it would be. Orchard Supply store doesn't even have a very big selection of foliage anything. In fact, it mostly has supplies that range from paint, to dead(ish) looking cactus's, to semi-cheap tools, to 30 year old candy. It's a great place, really. I wrote a Yelp review about my 5-star experience trying to locate non-existent Mason Jars and poking my hands 9-million times while rummaging about trying to find a semi-not dead cactus in a giant behemoth pile of dead cactus's. Actually, that's a lie. I'm totally being facetious right now. I did not write a Yelp review. I should have though. A bad one. Those cactus's were atrocious. Maybe I just went at an off-cactus season time? And, if I did, when is an on-cactus season time? Somebody enlighten me.

Moving on, although they didn't have Mason Jars (I ended up ordering those puppies online like I should have in the first place!) I remembered they had a key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys. Woah. That. Is. A. Tongue. Twister.

Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.

Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.

Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.

Ok, I'm done, promise. 

Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.

Nope. Had to do it one more time for good measure. So, with this previous key kiosk knowledge in the back of my noggin, I decided I would take my second-ever trip back to the not-really-an-orchard supply-store, and craft a key for my brudder who is coming to visit me on WEDNESDAY! So, hence the "jumping on my motorcyle and riding it to Orchard Supply and Hardware," statement above.

Whew. It took me a long time to get caught up. Telling stories via little digital letters, is harder than one would think. Anywho, because the R2D2 StarWars key was not the right size for my door (CURSES!) I decided to go with the next most masculine key I could find: PINK LIGHTING BOLTS! How could I say "no" to this bad boy? I mean look at it. It's all sciency and stuff.

 

Teeheeheehe. When I hold it in my palm, I can almost feel 1293823 volts of electric current pulsating through my palm into the tips of my leedle phalanges. ZAP ZAP ZAP!

Just kidding. I don't really imagine that kind of weird stuff....or do I?

The man who attended the key kiosk was very nice. He was older, smelled of spicy stuff, and had a brown beard that had flecks of tan something in it. I'm hoping that the flecks were wood-chips of sorts, and not bread crust. Or, if it was bread crust, that it was recent bread crust, and not bread crust from 42 days ago. But, whatever, who am I to judge about beard-bread crusts and the keeping of them. He asked me about my helmet, and we joked about his glory days spent on motorcycles and picking up the ladies. He also told me about his dream to ride helmet-less across the United States, a feat which would not only be very long, very bum-soreifying, but also very illegal in most states. All in all, it was a nice little visit at the key kiosk with, Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man.

Then, he handed me my pink electric key, I stuck it on my key-chain, walked out to my bike, started it up and off I zoom-zoomed away through the traffic, back home to my apartment. When I arrived at my destination, I unloaded my body from the saddle of my bike, and walked to my apartment door with my prized electric pink key in hand. I stuck the little neck of the key in the key hole, smiled, turned the key, and then smiled a little less...for it did not turn.

NOT THE PINK ELECTRIC KEY!? Y U NO WORK KEY!?

Suddenly all the magical electrical power that was once vibrating through the supercharged key, slowly died...as my hope for the key to ever open my front door died too. It was a very sad moment in time. I jiggled, and wiggled, and tried and then after I tried...I tried again...but the pink electric key would not open my front door. 

Defeated, I took the pink electric key in my palm, wound up my arm, and launched the key across my apartment parking lot as far as I could muster.

...Just kidding. I didn't do this. I really wanted to though.

Instead, I loaded myself back onto my bike, rode back to Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man and presented him with the ill-manufactured and broken pink electric key. "Here" I mumbled. "The electric magic is gone." I stated, the key clanking softly as it fell from my hand and tumbled across the counter. Actually I think I said "This isn't working." But INSIDE, I wanted to tell him the later. He looked rather surprised, but took the broken key in his giant bear like paws, and stuck it back into the machine to grind what I think might be more electric magic into it.

This time, while the key was grinding, he told me about his health. And, let me tell you what, folks. Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man, does not have good health. His knees are going bad, and he really should sit on a stool while he's working, but sadly, he is not allowed to sit on a stool. So, instead, he stands and grinds magic into keys all day long, while his knee bones grind on one another. Suddenly, I felt really bad for making him grind my keys, and I told him so. I told him that he should be at home in a chair, reading the newspaper and eating brownies. He liked that idea. Right around that same time, the grinder stopped grinding, so he opened the machine and presented me with a NEWLY CHARGED PINK LIGHTING BOLT KEY saying "This one will work, I promise."Oh man, I was excited.

I repeated the ride home, unmounted my bike, stuck the electric key into the key-hole with eager and anticipation, closed my eyes, turned the key...and...nothing. NOTHING. Happened. The door didn't open. Lightning didn't come from the sky...unicorns weren't dancing on my front step...nothing.

He had told me specifically that it would work this time. HE PROMISED. I felt my face become hot, I WAS ANGRY AT MR BEARD BREAD CRUST MAN, He promised me the key would work! I was tired of his electro-powered magic keys, that weren't very magical at all.

Defeated, and angry. But wanting to keep my composure, I started up my bike again, rode it to the not-really-an-orchard-suppy-AND-a-horrible-key-makers-store and presented the non-supercharged key to the key Kiosk man. "I like visiting you, but I don't want to come back again." I mumbled. When I looked up, I was surprised to see the man I mumbled to was no longer Mr. Beard Bread Crust man, instead Mr. Beard Bread Crust man, was replaced by a rather attractive man with a name tag that read "John." He thought I was weird for saying that, but took my broken pink lightning key, laughed a bit at its' atrociousness and asked me to pick out another key. I decided to give the Pink electric lighting bolt key ONE LAST chance. As I handed the brand new un-cut key to John, I whispered a silent prayer over it, that it would Puh-lease, oh-Puhlease, oh PUH-lease, work this time. As John cut my key, he hummed a couple lines of a Mumford and Sons song. He wasn't as entertaining to talk to as Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man (in fact, he didn't talk at all), but he was much more nice to look at.

Fast forward...

I stood nervously pacing outside my front door. Still wearing my helmet. Newly cut key (by John) in hand. Sweat accumulating on brow, under helmet. There was one thing that was keeping me on the outside of my apartment. And it was, my door. Which was locked. I held the answer to get inside, or did I?

My hand trembled a little as I extended it while holding the key. With each continued arm extension, the jostling increased, until I had to grasp my key-holding hand with my other hand, for stability purposes. The key slid inside the lock, I let out my breath with a giant puff (not realizing I had been holding it in the first place) and firmly turned the key to the right. IT TURNED! Wait. No. It didn't. It half-turned. I tried to finish the turn, to complete the full turn, I jostled and jostled, but the key would not move. At this point, I was still in denial, this key works, I just knew it. I must have simply turned it too fast, or perhaps too slow? I pulled it out, gained some ramming speed, and shoved it back into the lock again. Slowly, I turned the key to the right, *click* it hit what felt like a little itsy bitsy lock-wall, and it would not budge any further. "ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!?" I bellowed up into the sunny sky, my giant helmet-head flailing about in protest. In retrospect, I should have closed my eyes while I did this, because when I looked back down at the lock and proceeded to attempt to find the key-hole with the key again, I couldn't from all the sun-spots which clouded my vision. So, there I was, grumbling, moaning, half-blinded, big-helmet head, perhaps slightly-swearing, sweating, and cursing Mr. Beard Crumb Man and John for all of my key troubles....when it hit me: The giggles.

It started out slightly. The awareness of the absolute ridiculousness that was happening on my front porch, the idiocy of what I probably looked like to the passerby's, the fact that I was still wearing my helmet and trying to make a magical pink lightning key work in my door, when it obviously would rather not. All at once, it was all so very hilarious to me. And, so, there I stood with my giant head, on my front porch, 3rd pink lightning bolt fail key in hand, shaking with the giggles.

Thank God I got the giggles, no seriously. Because I'm pretty sure if  I wasn't granted the giggles, I would have gone back to John, and with my furry taken the 3 broken keys, unlocked his chest with them, pulled out his still-beating heart, and thrown it at Mr. Beard Bread Crust man's face. That's how angry I was in that moment. Something so silly, like a key, not working in my door, gave me the furry of 1 million momma bears, who's cubs have just been antagonized. It really is quite silly, how furious we can get over the most idiotic things. Like magical lightning bolt keys, that don't work.

"Fourth times the charm, right?" I muttered to myself as I loaded my rump onto my bike for what I prayed to be my final time. When I arrived at the all-too familiar Orchard Supply and Hardware store, I was greeted by the door man "There was a girl who just came in here...she looked just like you!"  "You don't say!?" I laughed. Then, I marched over to the key kiosk counter, looked John in the face and said "John, John, can we be real with one another? Let's be real right now. This is my fourth time back at this same counter, with my fourth pink-lightning bolt key that does not work. I believe Jesus is trying to teach me patience with this experience, so I'm not angry, but I would really like this teaching lesson to be over, very, very soon. So, you're going to take a new lightning bolt key, cut it correctly, inspect it to make sure it's cut correctly, and Lord willing I won't be back here to bother you again. Deal?"

He looked at me with big eyes, squeaked "Deal." and quickly went to work. While he was working, I busied myself with the mentos. There was practically a whole shelf solely dedicated to mentos. I like mentos, so I took a couple roles, hoping they weren't 30 years old, like some of the other candy looked.

When I got home, I stood on my porch with the fourth pink lightning bolt key in my hand. I wasn't angry, I wasn't giggly, I had come to the point of accepting that perhaps this key wouldn't work too. Perhaps I would have to go back to Orchard Hardware and Supply store 20 more times, and that would be OK with me. Why would it be OK? Because I first off, John was really attractive. Secondly, (and more importantly) I realized, in the grand scheme of things, it really didn't matter how many times I got the wrong key, what mattered was that eventually it would be the right key. And, no matter how many times it was the wrong key, I was determined that eventually...the door would open. It was just a matter of time.

I placed the 4th magical pink lighting bolt key into the lock, gave it a little turn to the left, and felt the lock-mechanism working inside until the door, swung open freely. It worked! I was inside! Ecstatic, I cried a little, did a mini happy dance (while still wearing my helmet) and attempted to kiss the key. Although, due to still wearing my helmet, I accidentally just bonked it on the front of my mouth-guard piece. But, I think it was the thought that counts.

Lessons learned through this experience:

1. Patience
2. Sometimes you just have to disassociate from the emotion(s), and keep trying.
3. I will NEVER loose this key. There will be NO "Where are the keys hiding this time?" games with this fella. 
4. ...and do not go to Orchard Supply and Hardware for cactus's, mason jars, or keys.

Love you all, I'm going to bed. And, brother Scott, you better appreciate this pink-lighting bolt key. Or. Else.

Day 1 - Year of Creativity - Church and sunburns

Oh man. It's 10:59PM on the first day of my "Year of Creativity" challenge and I'm just now beginning to write. Lamesauce. For those of you who didn't have a chance to read my Year of Creativity blog post, or who have no idea what this "challenge" thing is, you can feel free to zip on over HERE and read about it! I'm challenging myself to get into the practice of writing every day, and I'm digging up some of my unfinished projects, to complete them once and for all.

Today was one of the best days I've had in a very long time. It started out with a challenging church service at my beautiful little church Clarity La. If you're interested in attending with me, let me know! Currently, we're going through a series in Ephesians called "Awake" - good stuff, folks. I always walk away from Sunday mornings feeling challenged and/or as though I learned something applicable. In looking back through my notes, here's something that quickly stood out to me from today, it's a quote (sorry folks, I can't find the author!):

"Satan is a headhunter, he's a murderer. Your mind is his battlefield, your imagination his trophy."

I think the biggest thing I walked away with from this message was the fact that our minds and imaginations are incredible tools. And, if not kept reeled in and in-check at all times, or our imaginations used for good, we have a tendency to let it wander places, or to thoughts which could be potentially destructive to our beings. Here's a (slightly corny, hehe) acronym that pastor Nathan shared with us. These are the times that we need to proceed with extra caution, or be prepared to potentially "halt" the distructive thoughts of our minds, and the actions which could result from them:

Proceed with extra caution when we are...
 
H  - Hungry
A  - Angry
L  - Lonely
T  - Tired
E  - Entitled
D  - Discouraged

Out of these, I think the biggest area where I have a tendency to let my mind wander or to potentially act on destructive/unhealthy thoughts is when I'm lonely. Los Angeles is one of the largest-populated cities in the United States, and although it's constantly humming with action, people and noise, it's very easy to feel lonely and solitary due to feeling as though you don't necessarily fit in with the majority of the crowd. I've struggled with that off and on throughout the years though too. So, I don't want to use my location as an excuse. What's helped me is pursuing community, having accountability partners...people I can be real with...and staying actively involved in that community and those people.

In addition to seeing my Clarity family today, I had a wonderful time spending the majority of the afternoon with a dear friend! We shared a lot of laughs, enjoyed the glorious California sunshine, and I got a nice tan. And, by tan, I mean I'm a pretty adorable red tomato. 

I hope your Sunday's were just as remarkable as you are. And, here's to hoping tomorrows blog post will be slightly more exciting. ;) I'm sleepy.

Thanks for sharing in my journey with me, as always, invite me into yours too! I'd love to hear what's new in your worlds and if there's anything that I can pray for you for.

Luffs and stuffs, you ridiculously attractive faces, you. 

A Year of Creativity, and 365 blog posts.

I've been struggling a lot with my lack of motivation, with my procrastination, and with my desires to anything other than the 9 million creative projects I have stacked up in the back of my closet. It never used to bother me, you know. The fact that I had all of these unfinished projects. I've always thought "Well, I'm to busy for this right now." or "I'm not very good at this..." Or "I'll put it away for a bit..." or my personal favorite "I'll come back to this tomorrow." And "tomorrow" ends up being 4 years. I'm sick of it. Ridiculously sick of it. It gnaws at me with unrelenting annoyance, and for the first time in my life, I desperately, DESPERATELY want to do something about it.

Here's the way my brain works:

• Christi thinks of a project
• Christi is SUPER EXCITED ABOUT PROJECT AND TELLS EVERYONE
• Christi throws herself into her work for several days/weeks
• Christi gets burnt out
• Christi starts to doubt the value of her work
• Christi stops working on project as often
• Christi puts current project in the closet to work on "later"
• Christi thinks of another project
• Christi is SUPER EXCITED ABOUT NEW PROJECT AND TELLS EVERYONE
• Christi throws herself into her work for several days/weeks
• Christi gets burnt out...
• Christi starts...

Do you see the horrible circle of creative-failure I've succumbed to over the years? I want to openly admit this to everyone, because I very, very, very much so want to change. I'm sitting here on my couch, tearing up because of how much I want to change. To be honest with you, I know that I have some natural talents in some creative areas. Whether it be writing, poetry, drawing, painting, chair refurbishing, making super-awesome power-point presentations (That my boss LOVES) singing, music...I believe I do have a bit of natural talent in these areas. But, due to this failure to complete anything, I've often fallen very short in producing anything using these talents that God has given me. And, over the years as I've watched my friends also with a bit of natural creative talent FINISH their projects and become masters of their work due to their dedication and follow-through.. it's compounded my desires to break whatever this procrastination/lack of motivation/creative cycle is. So much so, that today when my friend Josh passed this comic along to me,  it was the final kick in the pants to break this lack of follow-through cycle. (Careful, it's a doozy)

Holy cow. That guy is me. And, I desperately don't want it to be me anymore.

This blog post, July 13, 2013 is the launch of a personal project called "Year of Creativity." Right now I'm single, have no personal ties (I don't even have a goldfish!), have some extra time on my hands and funds, am living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and I'm doing nothing about it.

That all changes today.

For one year, I plan to write a blog-post every single day, that's 365 blog posts, people. These posts will probably not be anything grand or amazing, but will serve to get my brain moving and thinking creatively. To become dedicated to the idea of writing. To follow-through.

Secondly, I have a creativity-accountability partner. And, with their help, I will start to rummage through the back of my closet, and pull out all of my unfinished creative projects to now complete. Due to the fact that I work well with deadlines, every other week I have to turn in a creative project to them. Whether it be something grand, or something small like a poem...it doesn't matter. What matters is that I always remain actively pursuing the finish-line for that particular creative project. I will also share pictures or snippets of these projects on my blog as well.

I'm excited, but I don't want this Year of Creativity to become something that I am easily excited about, and then, once again get burnt out on. That's why I've given myself the year-long goal, bi-weekly project due-dates, and am openly admitting it for all of you...to help keep me accountable as well.

Thanks for your help, you guys. Be prepared for an influx of Christi rambles. (Insert Lion King: "Bee preeepaaaaaareeed!)

Also. Here's a picture of my doggy Rosie Jo, laying under a past Christmas tree. My mom found this picture of her on her ipad and sent it over to me this morning. Maybe I'm just having a rather ridiculously emotional day due to this creative stuff, but when I saw this picture, it made me cry a bit. This doggie was the bestest doggie in the whole world. If you think your doggie is the bestest doggie in the whole world, you're wrong. Because, she was.

Booya. You're beautiful. And, so was my puppy.

I want to be a wife and momma someday.

Why hello there, Lovelies.

As I sit upon my bed, click-clacking on the keyboard in front of me, body thoroughly wrapped up in my owl-print fuzzy bathrobe...I am filling my ears with melodies from this delightful soundtrack mix. You're very welcome to listen along if you so wish. Generally, when I listen to slower-instrumental soundtrack mixes I am in a melancholy mood, but this isn't the case tonight.

Tonight, my spirit is resting with content happiness, but my heart is alive with passion. Passion about my future, passion regarding what is to come. I often find myself writing about what is to come as though it were a far-off distant dream to be ridden after with fervent pursuit, with unrelenting longing, and perhaps with a smidgen of curious exploration. And, that it is. However, tonight, the future doesn't seem so far off anymore. And, I'm not immediately sure why that is, but I suppose this blog post is as much for your reading enjoyment, as it is for me to attempt to answer that slightly gnawing question.

What future dreams I may have been chasing seem rather close now. Almost as if these dreams, instead of being a far-off beautiful land to be pursued, were an early morning fog. A fog that rises from the depths of the dewy earth after a long, hard, rainstorm...surrounding oneself rather unannounced. Moreover, as fog often displays itself, perhaps these dreams weren't immediately evident. Perhaps what I may have thought was a messed-up masterpiece of atmosphere confusion, a blurry set of missed chances and expectations, a temporary road-block on my way to my destination...slowly fades into the glorious morning sunrise? And, for the first time, as the milky haze disappears into the rays of warm sunshine around me, I can see with clarity the dreams within the immediate moments surrounding my being. And, it's beautiful. Within this clarity, I find that the air is thick with a weight of the importance of immediacy and intentionality with the people and things currently surrounding. Not immediacy or intentionality for the things, or the destinations down the road. But, for the now. For the right here. For the future(s) within the little moment(s). For the salty ground beneath my feet, for the people on my left and on my right...immediacy and intentionality for the dreams within the moments I've spent too many years missing.

I think that past paragraph was a long rambling round about way to say...I might be growing up.

There's a part of me that contemplates whether or not society (generally speaking) has done a horrible disservice to little girls. We've raised our pig-tailed, pony-loving, freckled face little-ladies to be independent. To be strong. To be capable. We've raised them to have careers, ambitions, goals and to chase those far-off dreams as long, and hard, and courageously as they possibly can. All of these things I believe to be extremely beneficial to instill into their little beings and hearts. However, perhaps somewhere along the way, we've downplayed the desires of many little girls - to become wives, mothers, and perhaps homemakers. We've downplayed and downgraded them to the degree of secondary. As if those desires, dreams, hopes, and wishes were something less than a woman who in contrast, wants to become highly successful and respected in the business world.

I believe myself to be in the latter category. Although not extremely successful...I live in comfort, and moderate confidence of my potential continued success within the corporate world. This is a fancy way of saying I've spent the past two years in LA networking, making valuable connections, and building my reputation within the business world and in my field. There is a career-path set before me, one which has the great ability to continue forward for a very long time if I choose to keep trudging along. Of course, as I've learned many times before - nothing is permanent, everything is malleable, and job situations are as fluidly changing as a rapid river is winding. However, hypothetically speaking, and looking to the current career-climate for my field in California, I am confident in saying (Lord willing) I do not see an end to the path on which I am currently walking if I choose to continue forward on it.

If I was to rewind into past-Christi-land two years ago and whisper into her ear that in two years, she would be sitting where I am...I think she wouldn't believe it. Not that it would be overwhelmingly exciting to her, simply because it would be so remarkably different than the dreams she had in her head...that I think she might be a bit upset and disappointed at future-Christi. Where did the girl who dreamed of Pixar, Disney, Animation, making it "big" go? Where did her far-off dreams, her passions, her curiosity dissapear to? Because, to be honest with you all, the person that is currently sitting on her bed, typing and listening to mellow music...is not the kind of person past-Christi would have appreciated. Sure, she's O.K...but...she's just...different?

Past Christi measured importance by successes within the business world and corporate notches on ones' belt. Past Christi would have probably done anything to get her name in the credits of a Pixar film. And, I'm not saying that having those goals were necessarily a bad thing. Or that current Christi wouldn't enjoy it just as much! But, I can tell you as the fog has faded, the future-path seems far less important, and the little moments and the dreams round' me more important. Questions like "Who can I bless today?" "What can I learn today?" are more readily floating around my head than "When I do this..." or "If this happens..." or "If only I..." 

Someday...I want to be a wife and someday I want to be a mom...a really awesome mom like my mom was and is. I think I've honestly been afraid to admit that for a supremely long time. Sure I'll write something silly about a future "husband" etc...but deep down if you were to ask me "Do you want to get married, do you want to be a mom?" I probably would have felt my heart clench up with fear and my mouth begin to mutter "Naw, I have too many things I want to do...men, who needs em!" With so many far-off goals looming in the distance, several horribly-failed past relationships and many self-inflicted fears, I've run away from the topic of marriage with the men I've gotten semi-serious with. And, that's hard to admit. Because, deep down, I think I've always wanted it...but I've struggled so very much with combining the desires mentioned above (wanting to be a wife, a mom, a homemaker) with the desires of pursuing those crazy, far-fetched dreams. And...people...it's tough...it really is, as an independent woman, trying to figure out how those things will possibly fit together. I wont expound on it, but for those who know what it feels like, I'm sure you can relate. Laying down individual dreams, and picking up shared dreams. Tough stuff. Even if you're 100% confident in your decision, it will always be a bitter-sweet goodbye.

Plus, I think I've been hesitant at times to admit that I want to be married and have kids, not because I'm ashamed of those desires, but because when someone asks you "What do you want to do with your life?" "Be an awesome wife and make the worlds best kids!" Isn't exactly what they're expecting you to say as a female in the 21 century. Especially out here in LA. Especially when you're on your way to being successful within that business world. And, what I've found is; when you do respond with these things, the tendency that I've found for them to reply back with is "Anything else?" As if the career I've built for myself in LA would be more important than loving and respecting my husband and raising children who fear the Lord. As if ANY other job would be more important than the tasks of loving, caring for, and instructing the children that God has blessed me with, and charged me with. Uh. I don't think so, quite the opposite really.

Lastly, what I desperately don't want people to walk away with after reading this, is an assumption that I think women can only be one or the other; wives and moms or career ladies. On the contrary, I think that one can be both...however, I think we can all agree that having children DOES change things. Priorities shift, responsibilities change as you are no longer simply responsible for yourself. It IS possible to be an awesome mom and a stellar career-lady (I see it everyday at my office!). However, I think the kind of mom that I want to be is one who is incredibly intentional with her children. Lord willing, I don't want to have someone else spending more time raising my kids than I do.

I know I'm all over the place tonight...but I guess this post was mostly just a ramble to encourage women of all journey-stages. Whether you are just starting out and wildly passionate about your future dreams like I was a couple years ago, whether you are currently where I reside in finding more fulfillment within the little dreams and people around you, whether you are married, perhaps a momma, chasing new dreams with your family...or maybe your kids are grown and you're revisiting the far-off dreams you had as a single person. Wherever you are...I think this post is mostly to encourage you in importance of those pursuits. To encourage us all.

So specifically....to all my female friends who are married, have children or will potentially have babies someday soon..I want you to know that you're absolutely remarkable. And, when you guys post pictures of your beautiful little families and your strivings as mommas and wives, my heart is filled with joy, and sometimes a bit of hopeful anticipation for my own family someday down the line too! I respect you all very much, for I know that the tasks that you are faced with currently are far greater than many of the tasks I will experience on a daily basis. So, keep at it wives and moms! I know that it's thankless work, and that the grass may seem greener on the other-side sometimes, but you all inspire me very much, as I know you do the same for many other young women as well.

Your journey is a beautiful one and you are a remarkable creation.

Luffs and Stuffs,



Christi