When I was in high school I was very active in my youth group. Now this was not your grandma's youth group- this was spectacular. A group of young people who thought (knew) we were hysterical and had decent to above average skills in video editing. Somebody call the lotto because we've got ourselves a winning combination! So we set out to make many video adventures for our peers to enjoy at our Wednesday night meetings. They usually coresponded with the sermon given by our awesome Pastor Jason (PJ tha DJ!).
One such video was birthed when PJ chose a theme called "Superheros". You may have heard of them? His sermon was based around the fact that all people have the same, "power" (the breath of God) in them. Just as superheros and supervillians are all born with superior powers- so are humans. And like the "supers" we can choose to use it for good or evil.
So it would make sense that my character in this video would be dressed in a white floor length flowing skirt. I would be wearing a white button up shirt with white elbow length gloves and would have my hair in a pony tail with a white ribbon in it. The dialogue at the Superhero check in table would go something like this,
Check in ladies (hurridly): Name
Me (enthusiastically): I'm SUPER V!
Check in ladies (inquisitively): And that stands for?
Me (matter of factly): Super Virgin.
Check in ladies (curiously): Super power?
Me (unrehearsedly): Saving virgins from not becoming not virgins... around the world!
Check in ladies (interestedly): And your real name?
Me (innocently): Chastity.
I was accompanied by many other young men and women who were willing to make complete fools of ourselves in order to help our beloved pastor with the task of a visual aid for his sermon. We featured characters including but not limited to: James Blonde (power: hot oil treatments), PMS Avenger (power: things in pink wrappers), Ultimate Hombre (power: never really disclosed), Flamer (power: fire), Drewperman (power: 5 finger discount), THE Gardner! (power: pruning sheers). Yeah... did I mention we're more like the Mystery Men calibre... but only a few notches under them.
Each of us was given a spot light where we really showed the world what we were capable of. In this video, I was filmed running into a jewelry store owned by a couple who attended our church.
"QUICK!" I yelled, "Give me all your promise rings!"
"Why should I give these to you?" He inquired, awkwardly.
"BECAUSE! There's virgins out there! Giving themselves away! HURRY!"
(He handed a collection of rings to me and I cupped them in my palm)
"YES! (power fist) Abstinance wins again!"
And I ran out of the store (and tripped. oops).
Years passed (but like a decade really) and on October 31st of 2010 I found myself doing an activity that I had never been presented with but could always see myself partaking in. A dream of sorts.
Sadly no, I did not get to motorboat a lion's mane and then be his little spoon while listening to my Al Green playlist (which IS on my bucket list, God willing-) But I did find myself dressed up for Halloween, at a bar AND flirting with boys. What? Now, I can't blame them, I am very gorgeous and my Halloween costume was quite spectacular (thanks Kim Walker!). You see, I was dressed in head to toe sequins and every so often I would rotate while my cousin shone a flashlight on me. What am I? A disco ball! (Yay.) So as you can see- I cannot blame a lad for being drawn to me, I'm basically awesome on all levels. Plus I have integrity and self control.
Or so I thought.
So give me a minute so I can back that thing up. Let me go ahead and fill you in on the holiday's activties. I had gone down to the Lone Star State to see my dear friend Brian graduate from basic training. Joining us were his wife (and my wonderful friend Kim), their daughter, his in-laws and our fabulous friend Candell. We all met in order to celebrate Brian's accomplishments at and graduation from basic. Interestingly enough, my cousin Brittanie was also at Lackland training to work with the K9 unit. So after Candell, Kim, Child and inlaws left on the 31st, I stayed behind and visited my cuz. That night we went out to celebrate halloween and I met a few of her friends. Brittanie was working the night shifts as were all my new friends from the night before. Except for one, so naturally, after Brittanie and I had the afternoons to chill she went to work and I got the number of the guy who had gone out with us the night before. Being he was the only soul on base I knew (if 18 hours counts). I asked him if he wanted to hang out. Turns out- we define that one differently.
Even though we were hanging out in Brittanie's hotel room- I tried to keep it platonic. I tried to steer the activties to be innocent and PG rated. Examples are funny youtube clips including but not limited to: funny things babies do (who needs condoms when you can plant the idea of child support in their minds?), and ugly people injuring themselves (I mean, they gotta know you're funny but you don't want them aroused). Eventually we even watched Sister Act because really there is no bigger boner shrinker than Whoopi. However, I really didn't stand a chance. For at the end of the day (movie) I was 25. I was horny. I was sitting on a bed with a boy. And so, after their take of Peggy March's, "I Will Follow Him" concluded and (spoiler) Deloris didn't die; I looked over and saw a guy who was willing to smooch me. My internal pep talk was as follows, "Don't be a turd about this. Just... everybody be cool."
Well, we made out for an hour or so, and I probably gave that guy the bluest balls he's ever had (I really struggled with making that more lady like- but I know when I'm defeated). I assessed the situation and decided I was satisfied.
"You should probably get going, don't you have class in the morning?"
"Really Lisa? That's it."
"Yeah. See ya tomorrow maybe? Although I think we've had enough nice nice* if we meet tomorrow it should probably be in public."
"Sure. (Smile) Have a great night."
And I did. I had a great night. I called my dear friend Heather and filled her in on the nights' activities.
"YOU DID WHAT!"
I couldn't tell if she was disappointed or happy for me.
We discussed and I told her all the details (that I am not willing to share with you. I don't know you from Adam. You could be some sick s.o with a molestache and van full of candy ripping wifi off of a local coffee shop. Or even worse- you could be a parent. One of my parents. For the love of God stop reading! It's boring and it's riddled with grammatical errors. What have I done!?!). After making her privy to the events of the night she of course suggested I not see him again. (On the slippery slope theory).
But, like any person being led by their libedo, I had a Michael Jackson lyric playing in my head. And I would be damned if I stopped before I got enough. And quite frankly, I hadn't (gotten enough).
So the next night, I stuck true to my guns. I decided I would see him only in a public setting. I tapped into my only child abilities and entertained myself for quite some time. Despite the fact that I was flying out early the next morning, my cousin and a few of her friends and I were planning on going out when they got off work. So like any person who has no respect for other subcultures, I preoccupied myself by taking a nice long (unaccompanied) stroll through the base. I was never stopped but I'm sure they could tell I was an outsider. I was supposed to meet my cousin at 10:45. At 10:35 my new man friend texted me and asked my whereabouts (I had invited him to join the nights' festivities). Well what do you know I was near his hotel room. I agreed to go upstairs while he collected his things and then we would leave and meet Brittanie. I would not even be there 10 minutes.
Wro-ang.
Brittanie didn't get out till way late. I did not even hear from her until after midnight. And well, we'll just say a lot happened in the time gap.
I'm not going into the details (this is turning into a novel but not that type of novel) but I can tell you I was disappointed in myself. What I will tell you is this. Ears are apparently my kryptonite. Talk about earogenous zones (pun intended).
I inititally started this blog in early October of 2010. After this incident, I revoked my "virgin" status and decided that I was no better than that Mormmon girl. I was a big, dumb hypocrit. And even though the only people reading this blog were my friend Halie and another non confirmed reader that I am making up just to represent the unknown, I was still not comfortable coming on here and proclaiming my innocence.
I'm not familiar with "bases" but as they are defined by Urban Dictionary, we didn't even cross into second. However, I have very high expectations for myself and immediately I was overcome with conviction and remorse. After an explanitory conversation- I mean after a sudden transition from responding to sobbing, I felt it polite to explain if possible- I left and went back to my cousin's hotel room. He and I exchanged texts a few times but I'd be surprised if he has my number still.
After taking the past few months to work through this slip and to muster up the courage to write again, I decided that yes, I had made a mistake and I was not proud. But I think that night was a monumental one for me. I do not believe it was a landmark because of what I did, but because of what I did not do. It would have been very easy for me to continue on a certain course, but the real "stone pillar if you will, is the fact that I could have continued, and I made the concious decision not to. Up until this point, my decision to remain abstinent was largely founded on my church's stance of premarital sex and was nurtured by the fact that I had no prospects who would tempt me otherwise. I was never in situations where it was ever an issue. I chose my friends and companions carefully. I was not very good at interacting with males- so I never did. But in that moment I knew a decision had to be made to retract or proceed. That decision was no one's but my own. And I am pleased with it.
*Nice nice phrase taken from 30 Rock. Watch it and love it.
27 June 2011
20 June 2011
That Little Slut: Part I
The problem with the spoken word is that anyone can speak and when they do- they feel as though their words are monumental enough to claim all the ears in the room. That's why I have always loved the written word: it is easier to ignore. Just ask my homework. Just kidding, I feel the written word has always held some sort of... position in my head. Some type of authority. It used to take a lot to get your words into the world for people to read them. You had to have an interesting story, or a talent... a publisher. But in this generation of blogging and twitter and facebook statuses- everyone feels compelled to put their every freakin move online for others to see. "Just grabbed a soft drink and scratched my balls. Raise the Roof". It's pathetic. And I know I am absolutely a culprit (of abusing the blogosphere- not of ball scratching) but the difference is- I don't care if anyone reads it. I quite prefer it actually.
So why the "S" word? Well, it is an example of what happens when people think others give a shit about them. I am not ashamed to tell you that I was recently a subscriber to Glamour. I loved it. It made me want more things than I ever needed but all in all I thought it a very nice magazine.
Until one day they featured this little joke of a Morman. Now I've got nothing against Morman's per se. But if I ever met this one in particular- I would probably punch her right in the mouth. For you see, her story was that she was 27 and a virgin. Cool. I thought- her, me and Steve Carrell- well til the last couple minutes of the movie anyway.
Then I proceeded to read. And this little harlot was describing how she would go out with men and they would french kiss. And she would perform fellatio on them, and they would... do things for her. This continues and she describes how she met a fly mutha ucka at a bar and went up to a hotel room with him. After digitally satisfying each other she decided that this finely sculpted specimen is just not worthy of her hymen and the poor man is left to finish what she started.
I envisioned people applauding her for her decision and I got angry.
Then the next month came and the magazine featured letters to the editor who were so happy for this chick and her decisions. "Way to keep to your guns! You should have a talk show." and "I've never been so proud of a virgin! Keep those knees glued sweetlove!"
I was miffed. This bitch was was no virgin. I mean, technically she was. But surely she and I did not share the same title. I had yet to partake in an "over the sweater" type of action. And the closest I'd come to viewing erotica was my collection of Colin Firth movies.*
My friend Ana always says, "Don't hold onto your virginity as if it's a piece of gold, it's not, it's just a piece of tissue..." And I will always love Ana. And I know it's not gold (yikes) but I feel like I've made it this far, may as well prevail. I feel like you can make mistakes in your youth and give it up to some guppy eyed dillhole when you're 15 because he buys you flowers and compliments your sweater vest because it "brings out the hot in your eyes". But when you are 25- I feel like you should just simply be smarter than that. As my favorite female named Stevie once sang, "Players only love you when they're playin". I suppose, at this point in time, it would be trite to sleep with someone just for the sake of checking it off my bucketlist.
But this entry is not about me. It's about that little urchin and her schemes. It's just like when people who eat fish still consider themselves a vegetarian. Technically? Yes. Realistically? Not so much. Which leads me to my point, just because you're only eating crotch meat (aka fish) does not qualify you as a v...egitarian.
No matter your stance on eating meat though, I suppose it important to note that the purpose of this message is just to vent about the fact that two people can seem to make the same life decision- but it looks completely different. A lot of wiggle room I suppose. (That's what she said).
*Copied somewhat from 30 Rock. I love Tina Fey and love whichever writer created that line
So why the "S" word? Well, it is an example of what happens when people think others give a shit about them. I am not ashamed to tell you that I was recently a subscriber to Glamour. I loved it. It made me want more things than I ever needed but all in all I thought it a very nice magazine.
Until one day they featured this little joke of a Morman. Now I've got nothing against Morman's per se. But if I ever met this one in particular- I would probably punch her right in the mouth. For you see, her story was that she was 27 and a virgin. Cool. I thought- her, me and Steve Carrell- well til the last couple minutes of the movie anyway.
Then I proceeded to read. And this little harlot was describing how she would go out with men and they would french kiss. And she would perform fellatio on them, and they would... do things for her. This continues and she describes how she met a fly mutha ucka at a bar and went up to a hotel room with him. After digitally satisfying each other she decided that this finely sculpted specimen is just not worthy of her hymen and the poor man is left to finish what she started.
I envisioned people applauding her for her decision and I got angry.
Then the next month came and the magazine featured letters to the editor who were so happy for this chick and her decisions. "Way to keep to your guns! You should have a talk show." and "I've never been so proud of a virgin! Keep those knees glued sweetlove!"
I was miffed. This bitch was was no virgin. I mean, technically she was. But surely she and I did not share the same title. I had yet to partake in an "over the sweater" type of action. And the closest I'd come to viewing erotica was my collection of Colin Firth movies.*
My friend Ana always says, "Don't hold onto your virginity as if it's a piece of gold, it's not, it's just a piece of tissue..." And I will always love Ana. And I know it's not gold (yikes) but I feel like I've made it this far, may as well prevail. I feel like you can make mistakes in your youth and give it up to some guppy eyed dillhole when you're 15 because he buys you flowers and compliments your sweater vest because it "brings out the hot in your eyes". But when you are 25- I feel like you should just simply be smarter than that. As my favorite female named Stevie once sang, "Players only love you when they're playin". I suppose, at this point in time, it would be trite to sleep with someone just for the sake of checking it off my bucketlist.
But this entry is not about me. It's about that little urchin and her schemes. It's just like when people who eat fish still consider themselves a vegetarian. Technically? Yes. Realistically? Not so much. Which leads me to my point, just because you're only eating crotch meat (aka fish) does not qualify you as a v...egitarian.
No matter your stance on eating meat though, I suppose it important to note that the purpose of this message is just to vent about the fact that two people can seem to make the same life decision- but it looks completely different. A lot of wiggle room I suppose. (That's what she said).
*Copied somewhat from 30 Rock. I love Tina Fey and love whichever writer created that line
18 June 2011
My Chiffon Cape
When I was (meh, we'll say 8. Ish.) I received a package in the mail from my fabulous Grandma Anna. This part of the memory is vague, but my guess is it was either in July (my birthday), or December (Christmas). I opened the parcel and there inside was a gorgeous dress that I was going to have so much fun wearing. It was maroon and knee length and all sorts of wonderful. I ran and showed my mom. Holding it up in the air and running through the house with it draped over my shoulders like a sort of layered chiffon cape. My mother beat me to my room and grabbed a hanger from my closet and extended her hand to take the dress. I refused. I held it to my chest in a full bear hug and swung side to side with it exclaiming how much I loved my grandmother for giving me this dress. My mom, getting a little tired of the fiasco extended her hand again. And again I refused to give it to her as I swayed saying, "I love grandma Anna! I love her! I love my grandma Anna! Grandma Anna is my lover!"
My mother abruptly withdrew her hand and scolded me. "Don't say that."
"But why not, it's true! I love her and she is my lover."
I will never forget this moment so long as I live and I will fight anyone who states that it happened otherwise.
My mom dropped the hanger to the floor and said, "A lover is someone you have sex with." and then immediately left the room.
That is the only time to my recollection I have talked to my mom about sex. Which is absolutely more than fine with me.
You can imagine my shock, dismay and curiosity when 4 years later I heard the words sung (beautifully) from the church stage, "Jesus, lover of my soul". I mean really, exactly what were they insinuating? If this is surface level I have accidentally gotten myself involved in some really kinky business. Immature I know, but truly, a kid has a right to question...
Why was I so uncomfortable with these words? I believe it's based on the conversation I had with my mom (that fateful day), but I think the un-comfort level goes even further than that. Maybe it's because the only sex talk I ever really had came from my best friend in elementary school who filled me in on what on the activities witnessed on a pay per view television program ("You'll never guess what I saw!"). Maybe because the topic of sex was never discussed in my house (Praise be to God), or maybe because I always sort of saw it as a sticky, dirty mess. A very primal instinct, the solution for the animal like gyrations that seem to occur on a monthly rotation (so many pieces I'd yet to put together). But I never saw it as anything more than an animalistic need. And then it hit me. Well, what should have hit me then I realized just now. Everything (no really, everything) I knew about sex I'd learned from my friend who'd learned it from the accidental viewing of a porno. It really was very primal. And it was really not very intimate.
Intimate, there's a scary word for you. If you'll let your mind come out of the gutter for some fresh air, I will tell you that I have experienced intimacy with people. (Just not the sexy time kind). Even though I feel this, I would still have a hard time defining it. I have never really felt like I knew what the word means- in any respect. For example, when I was in 8th grade, I was walking through a Target store with my dear friend Anna. We walked past the lingerie setion and I saw my first nighty.
"That's a really cute dress!" I exclaimed "Kinda see through".
"Lisa. That's not a dress." corrected Anna.
You see. I had no understanding of intimates, and I had no understanding of intimacy.
To say I understand intimacy today would be a lie. I have friends, both genders, whom I am or was at one point very close with. Yet I find myself still confused by the subject matter. If I were to say I understand fully and am not afraid of/confused by the idea of intimacy with my Savior, I would advise you to not stand under a tall tree or powerlines with me (get it? because lightening?).
I believe that part of my problem is that I have been looking at things from a completely wrong view point. I have definitely been people focused in my quest to find knowledge on intimacy. Merriam- Webster defines intimacy as, "The state of being intimate: FAMILIARITY" (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/intimacy). I'm wondering if Merriam's English teacher ever told him not to use the word in the definition? I do like the second part, however; where it speaks (in one word) about a familiarity.
Immediately, John 10:4 pops into my mind "And when he brings out his own sheep, he goes before them; and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice."
This is a beautiful concept for me. I often times get a very discouraged heart when I'm going through a hard time and cannot seem to decipher the Lord's will for me. In 2007 when I was attending Univerity at Central Michigan I was having a particularly hard time trying to figure out what to do with my life. It was my first senior year and I had just discovered I was not going to graduate on account of failing an English class. Here I was, a failure of a child having to repeat the most basic course offered in my school. I had no idea what I wanted to do or who I was supposed to be. I was definitely falling victim to the lies of the enemy- but I still did not feel like I could positively identify what the Lord was saying to me. I could not comfortably verbalize what God's purpose was for me at that time.
As I drove to work, I heard a new song come on the radio.
**I interuprt this program to fill you in on some of my personal history so that you will be able to fully understand where I am going with my radio story**
When I was little... 4+... my dad would often (everytime we were near music) play a game with me where he would play his radio stations or media that featured his favorite musicians (anything classic rock). I would get brownie points if I could correctly identify the artist and song title, but I had to know it from heart (baracuda). My dad's favorite was when "No Sugar Tonight" was playing. My dad would ask, "Guess Who sings this?" to which I would respond, "True". As I grew older and I realized that other genres of music besides classic rock existed, I began to play this game with myself when listening to music. Yes, sometimes I can even identify a song as early as really early in the song.
**I return**
The song was Nelly Fertado's, "Say it Right". I had never heard it before, but I knew it was Nelly before the first stanza was over. Why did this make me distraught? I realized that I had become more familiar with Nelly's voice than I was with my own Savior's. There's a chance that I'm over spiritualizing this but I think it is a problem with people today. We want to know God's heart but yet we don't even recognize his voice because we never listen to Him. Silly earthlings.
It's come to my attention that I am constantly proposing questions yet fail to answer them. Which is why it would be nerve racking to me if I ever popped the question to myself. I would sure be left in a lot of suspsense.
Well I suspect that I follow my thoughts easier than you do, so let me quote a more articulate person to bring you up to speed. I was listening to a Pastor (Paul Washer) who said that every relationship on earth is set as an example of the relationship humans have with God. For example, marriage is an example of God's relationship with man. The relationship between a parent and child is to further explain the relationship God has between himself and man. Of course he said this more eloquently and did not leave room for confusion about the terrible relationships people have established with each other (abusive boyfriend v. battered girlfriend; malicious boss v. oppressed worker) but as I listened to this sermon (some time ago) I realized that any understanding of intimancy between humans will need to be taught to me through an intimate relationship with God- not through people's misguided perceptions. Please understand that this is going to very a very awkward and most likely lengthy process. However, I would love to share with you as I learn. It is always a skosh unnerving for me to share such intimate (there it is again) details with you but if He makes me an example, so be it. As my once friend who goes by the stage name, "Le Professeur" sings, "Jesus gave his life in offering, for the ones who could care less. So when I felt like quitting on you, I asked for Jesus to bring out my best. And he showed us all the garbage, that I didn't want you to see. So now I'm wavin' my flag of surrender, and I'm saying that Jesus can lead."
Basically, that's what I'm doing here.
My mother abruptly withdrew her hand and scolded me. "Don't say that."
"But why not, it's true! I love her and she is my lover."
I will never forget this moment so long as I live and I will fight anyone who states that it happened otherwise.
My mom dropped the hanger to the floor and said, "A lover is someone you have sex with." and then immediately left the room.
That is the only time to my recollection I have talked to my mom about sex. Which is absolutely more than fine with me.
You can imagine my shock, dismay and curiosity when 4 years later I heard the words sung (beautifully) from the church stage, "Jesus, lover of my soul". I mean really, exactly what were they insinuating? If this is surface level I have accidentally gotten myself involved in some really kinky business. Immature I know, but truly, a kid has a right to question...
Why was I so uncomfortable with these words? I believe it's based on the conversation I had with my mom (that fateful day), but I think the un-comfort level goes even further than that. Maybe it's because the only sex talk I ever really had came from my best friend in elementary school who filled me in on what on the activities witnessed on a pay per view television program ("You'll never guess what I saw!"). Maybe because the topic of sex was never discussed in my house (Praise be to God), or maybe because I always sort of saw it as a sticky, dirty mess. A very primal instinct, the solution for the animal like gyrations that seem to occur on a monthly rotation (so many pieces I'd yet to put together). But I never saw it as anything more than an animalistic need. And then it hit me. Well, what should have hit me then I realized just now. Everything (no really, everything) I knew about sex I'd learned from my friend who'd learned it from the accidental viewing of a porno. It really was very primal. And it was really not very intimate.
Intimate, there's a scary word for you. If you'll let your mind come out of the gutter for some fresh air, I will tell you that I have experienced intimacy with people. (Just not the sexy time kind). Even though I feel this, I would still have a hard time defining it. I have never really felt like I knew what the word means- in any respect. For example, when I was in 8th grade, I was walking through a Target store with my dear friend Anna. We walked past the lingerie setion and I saw my first nighty.
"That's a really cute dress!" I exclaimed "Kinda see through".
"Lisa. That's not a dress." corrected Anna.
You see. I had no understanding of intimates, and I had no understanding of intimacy.
To say I understand intimacy today would be a lie. I have friends, both genders, whom I am or was at one point very close with. Yet I find myself still confused by the subject matter. If I were to say I understand fully and am not afraid of/confused by the idea of intimacy with my Savior, I would advise you to not stand under a tall tree or powerlines with me (get it? because lightening?).
I believe that part of my problem is that I have been looking at things from a completely wrong view point. I have definitely been people focused in my quest to find knowledge on intimacy. Merriam- Webster defines intimacy as, "The state of being intimate: FAMILIARITY" (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/intimacy). I'm wondering if Merriam's English teacher ever told him not to use the word in the definition? I do like the second part, however; where it speaks (in one word) about a familiarity.
Immediately, John 10:4 pops into my mind "And when he brings out his own sheep, he goes before them; and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice."
This is a beautiful concept for me. I often times get a very discouraged heart when I'm going through a hard time and cannot seem to decipher the Lord's will for me. In 2007 when I was attending Univerity at Central Michigan I was having a particularly hard time trying to figure out what to do with my life. It was my first senior year and I had just discovered I was not going to graduate on account of failing an English class. Here I was, a failure of a child having to repeat the most basic course offered in my school. I had no idea what I wanted to do or who I was supposed to be. I was definitely falling victim to the lies of the enemy- but I still did not feel like I could positively identify what the Lord was saying to me. I could not comfortably verbalize what God's purpose was for me at that time.
As I drove to work, I heard a new song come on the radio.
**I interuprt this program to fill you in on some of my personal history so that you will be able to fully understand where I am going with my radio story**
When I was little... 4+... my dad would often (everytime we were near music) play a game with me where he would play his radio stations or media that featured his favorite musicians (anything classic rock). I would get brownie points if I could correctly identify the artist and song title, but I had to know it from heart (baracuda). My dad's favorite was when "No Sugar Tonight" was playing. My dad would ask, "Guess Who sings this?" to which I would respond, "True". As I grew older and I realized that other genres of music besides classic rock existed, I began to play this game with myself when listening to music. Yes, sometimes I can even identify a song as early as really early in the song.
**I return**
The song was Nelly Fertado's, "Say it Right". I had never heard it before, but I knew it was Nelly before the first stanza was over. Why did this make me distraught? I realized that I had become more familiar with Nelly's voice than I was with my own Savior's. There's a chance that I'm over spiritualizing this but I think it is a problem with people today. We want to know God's heart but yet we don't even recognize his voice because we never listen to Him. Silly earthlings.
It's come to my attention that I am constantly proposing questions yet fail to answer them. Which is why it would be nerve racking to me if I ever popped the question to myself. I would sure be left in a lot of suspsense.
Well I suspect that I follow my thoughts easier than you do, so let me quote a more articulate person to bring you up to speed. I was listening to a Pastor (Paul Washer) who said that every relationship on earth is set as an example of the relationship humans have with God. For example, marriage is an example of God's relationship with man. The relationship between a parent and child is to further explain the relationship God has between himself and man. Of course he said this more eloquently and did not leave room for confusion about the terrible relationships people have established with each other (abusive boyfriend v. battered girlfriend; malicious boss v. oppressed worker) but as I listened to this sermon (some time ago) I realized that any understanding of intimancy between humans will need to be taught to me through an intimate relationship with God- not through people's misguided perceptions. Please understand that this is going to very a very awkward and most likely lengthy process. However, I would love to share with you as I learn. It is always a skosh unnerving for me to share such intimate (there it is again) details with you but if He makes me an example, so be it. As my once friend who goes by the stage name, "Le Professeur" sings, "Jesus gave his life in offering, for the ones who could care less. So when I felt like quitting on you, I asked for Jesus to bring out my best. And he showed us all the garbage, that I didn't want you to see. So now I'm wavin' my flag of surrender, and I'm saying that Jesus can lead."
Basically, that's what I'm doing here.
The V Card
This entry is about how one of my new friends inspired me to write this blog.
I met with Halie on a Friday night at an Arby’s on Benson and 43rd. Halie is a wonderful woman with an incredible story to tell of the physical trials that she suffered on account of her terrible back pain and diseases. (When I get the chance, I will find her blog and then cite it here so you can read firsthand how cool this chick is). Halie and I have been going to the same bible study for a hot minute now and every time we’re together we seem to have a blast (despite the fact that I am 5 years her senior- but who’s really counting?).
After we had ordered our food and taken a moment to scope out the best seats in the house we sat down with our meal. When we finished praying for our food to be nourished to our bodies (that's right, our God is so powerful He can pull nutrients from Arby’s) we sat down and began to discuss our deepest goals and desires. Our most frightening needs and experiences and other very deep, deep, sentimental thoughts stored in the inmost confines of our hearts. But I’m not going to tell you about those (a lady never talks and tells. But she tells while she’s talking. Because that’s what talking is. Though what you talk about is very telling. Allow me to continue my tale) I am going to tell you a little about her health issues. It was all very detailed and I am not confident I can regurgitate it accurately, but I can sure try. And more importantly, I can assist you in understanding how that conversation was relevant to why I started this thing.
She began by talking about a curve in her spine. It is apparently like scoliosis but is actually its own distinct curvature. It is very hard and painful to correct, but it can be done (again, this is where I would put the URL for her blog). Halie concluded her story about all the surgeries she’s had, all the medications she’s been on, all the fights she’s had with doctors, all of the above- she concluded by proudly stating that she is working on blogging it now so that people can see exactly what she went through. And in understanding what she went through, see exactly how awesome and amazing our awesome and amazing God was through the entire process. (That’s one thing I like about Halie. Every word I’ve heard her speak is to the glory of God).
For the small amount of time I have known her, I’ve known that she too holds a passion for writing.
I don’t remember many details about this night, but I do remember my train of thought as Halie spoke about how she was going to use her writing to start a blog so that everyone can know how cool God is.
I remember feeling extremely happy for her, but oddly saddened. I really enjoy writing and I've wanted to start a blog for a while now. However, I feel like I have nothing to write about. For you see, I have a very typical history and a traditional upbringing. I am Kathy America. I have had my trials and my tribulations. I’ve had my heart broken and I’ve lost very dear friends. But I did not really feel like I had any original thoughts to write about. I felt like I had nothing unique to bring to the table (laptop). And as ridiculous as it sounds, the entire time Halie spoke about her back problems, I was trying to conjure a health problem for myself- maybe I could find something to write about. She explained to me the curves in her spine, the degrees, the this and the that and do you know my response? I literally started to convince myself that my back hurt more and more as she talked. And it probably did, because I have back problems as well. But for me to complain about my back problems to Halie would be comparable to someone who broke a nail complaining to an amputee about their frustrations in living with incomplete body parts.
I was racking my brain. I could not think of anything to write about. All my wounds have since scabbed over. I have dealt with what I have been given and I am in a pretty good place. I could not think of anything original to spin off with. I have no health issues or diseases that people would want to read about. In fact, the only disease I may have is hypochondria, which is born of plagiarism. And while I honestly know I Romans 12:15’d this dinner I thought for days about what inspirational literature I may have to contribute to the world.
A few days passed and nothing.
A few more days passed and I forgot about my desire to write.
Then, one not so very special day (when I was ovulating like a son of a gun) I remembered a fact about myself.
I’m a virgin.
***GASP*** We do exist! I know that it’s pretty rare. (I know it’s probably not as rare as I think it is). But sometimes I feel like I am the only virgin left in America. At least in my age group. Sometimes, when people talk about their “dry spells” and how they haven’t had sex in days, weeks, or God forbid even months; I want to punch them in the face and say, “A flippin’ quarter of a flippin’ century.” and then walk away triumphantly. But then I don’t. Because my anger and haste would be a reminder of how desperately I need to get laid.
So if I recognize that this much is true- why on God’s green earth do I abstain from *intercoursing? It’s a decision that up until recently, I sort of felt was made for me. For you see, I am a **Christian and that entails abstaining from sex until you’re married. And once you’re married, having sex with only the person you’re married to.
Recently, I’ve been out in the big, bad world. And I am not going to lie to you. I am very curious, and there are certainly days where I feel like I would be more susceptible to partaking in certain activities than I would be other days. But, there has been one fact hanging over my head since I joined a small group led by a wonderful couple in my home town church. “Sex before marriage is wrong”.
I was more enthused to agree with this statement before I was 25 with no prospects.
While living in the suburbs of Seattle I have managed to meet a handful of men. Some more appealing than others-but will you not drink warm water when you’ve been in a desert for days? And because I do not meet people with the intentions of sleeping with them, it’s hard to say if the opportunity to sleep with any of them would have even been broached. But I believe that it would definitely have been a possibility had I met them under different pretenses. What I’m trying to say, in a round-about way, is that it was always ingrained in my skull that I am to abstain from such behaviors until I am in a committed, marriage relationship. Lately I have been challenged through many different friendships, personal struggles, and conversations regarding my choices and I have chosen to revisit this decision. Not with the intentions of changing my mind- but to truly look at why this is my decision; and why it is a good one. My intentions are neither to sway people nor to infuriate (although this is usually inevitable), but to be able to experience for myself the logical and biblical thought process for making this decision in such a sex driven world. Now I you’ll excuse me, I have some thinking to do.
Stay tuned…
*Verbiage taken straight from 30 Rock
**Christian= Believes Jesus is God. Period. There's more actually, but the jist of it is that God came to earth as a person and died for us and instead of us that God's wrath be satisfied and we might come to know Him.
I met with Halie on a Friday night at an Arby’s on Benson and 43rd. Halie is a wonderful woman with an incredible story to tell of the physical trials that she suffered on account of her terrible back pain and diseases. (When I get the chance, I will find her blog and then cite it here so you can read firsthand how cool this chick is). Halie and I have been going to the same bible study for a hot minute now and every time we’re together we seem to have a blast (despite the fact that I am 5 years her senior- but who’s really counting?).
After we had ordered our food and taken a moment to scope out the best seats in the house we sat down with our meal. When we finished praying for our food to be nourished to our bodies (that's right, our God is so powerful He can pull nutrients from Arby’s) we sat down and began to discuss our deepest goals and desires. Our most frightening needs and experiences and other very deep, deep, sentimental thoughts stored in the inmost confines of our hearts. But I’m not going to tell you about those (a lady never talks and tells. But she tells while she’s talking. Because that’s what talking is. Though what you talk about is very telling. Allow me to continue my tale) I am going to tell you a little about her health issues. It was all very detailed and I am not confident I can regurgitate it accurately, but I can sure try. And more importantly, I can assist you in understanding how that conversation was relevant to why I started this thing.
She began by talking about a curve in her spine. It is apparently like scoliosis but is actually its own distinct curvature. It is very hard and painful to correct, but it can be done (again, this is where I would put the URL for her blog). Halie concluded her story about all the surgeries she’s had, all the medications she’s been on, all the fights she’s had with doctors, all of the above- she concluded by proudly stating that she is working on blogging it now so that people can see exactly what she went through. And in understanding what she went through, see exactly how awesome and amazing our awesome and amazing God was through the entire process. (That’s one thing I like about Halie. Every word I’ve heard her speak is to the glory of God).
For the small amount of time I have known her, I’ve known that she too holds a passion for writing.
I don’t remember many details about this night, but I do remember my train of thought as Halie spoke about how she was going to use her writing to start a blog so that everyone can know how cool God is.
I remember feeling extremely happy for her, but oddly saddened. I really enjoy writing and I've wanted to start a blog for a while now. However, I feel like I have nothing to write about. For you see, I have a very typical history and a traditional upbringing. I am Kathy America. I have had my trials and my tribulations. I’ve had my heart broken and I’ve lost very dear friends. But I did not really feel like I had any original thoughts to write about. I felt like I had nothing unique to bring to the table (laptop). And as ridiculous as it sounds, the entire time Halie spoke about her back problems, I was trying to conjure a health problem for myself- maybe I could find something to write about. She explained to me the curves in her spine, the degrees, the this and the that and do you know my response? I literally started to convince myself that my back hurt more and more as she talked. And it probably did, because I have back problems as well. But for me to complain about my back problems to Halie would be comparable to someone who broke a nail complaining to an amputee about their frustrations in living with incomplete body parts.
I was racking my brain. I could not think of anything to write about. All my wounds have since scabbed over. I have dealt with what I have been given and I am in a pretty good place. I could not think of anything original to spin off with. I have no health issues or diseases that people would want to read about. In fact, the only disease I may have is hypochondria, which is born of plagiarism. And while I honestly know I Romans 12:15’d this dinner I thought for days about what inspirational literature I may have to contribute to the world.
A few days passed and nothing.
A few more days passed and I forgot about my desire to write.
Then, one not so very special day (when I was ovulating like a son of a gun) I remembered a fact about myself.
I’m a virgin.
***GASP*** We do exist! I know that it’s pretty rare. (I know it’s probably not as rare as I think it is). But sometimes I feel like I am the only virgin left in America. At least in my age group. Sometimes, when people talk about their “dry spells” and how they haven’t had sex in days, weeks, or God forbid even months; I want to punch them in the face and say, “A flippin’ quarter of a flippin’ century.” and then walk away triumphantly. But then I don’t. Because my anger and haste would be a reminder of how desperately I need to get laid.
So if I recognize that this much is true- why on God’s green earth do I abstain from *intercoursing? It’s a decision that up until recently, I sort of felt was made for me. For you see, I am a **Christian and that entails abstaining from sex until you’re married. And once you’re married, having sex with only the person you’re married to.
Recently, I’ve been out in the big, bad world. And I am not going to lie to you. I am very curious, and there are certainly days where I feel like I would be more susceptible to partaking in certain activities than I would be other days. But, there has been one fact hanging over my head since I joined a small group led by a wonderful couple in my home town church. “Sex before marriage is wrong”.
I was more enthused to agree with this statement before I was 25 with no prospects.
While living in the suburbs of Seattle I have managed to meet a handful of men. Some more appealing than others-but will you not drink warm water when you’ve been in a desert for days? And because I do not meet people with the intentions of sleeping with them, it’s hard to say if the opportunity to sleep with any of them would have even been broached. But I believe that it would definitely have been a possibility had I met them under different pretenses. What I’m trying to say, in a round-about way, is that it was always ingrained in my skull that I am to abstain from such behaviors until I am in a committed, marriage relationship. Lately I have been challenged through many different friendships, personal struggles, and conversations regarding my choices and I have chosen to revisit this decision. Not with the intentions of changing my mind- but to truly look at why this is my decision; and why it is a good one. My intentions are neither to sway people nor to infuriate (although this is usually inevitable), but to be able to experience for myself the logical and biblical thought process for making this decision in such a sex driven world. Now I you’ll excuse me, I have some thinking to do.
Stay tuned…
*Verbiage taken straight from 30 Rock
**Christian= Believes Jesus is God. Period. There's more actually, but the jist of it is that God came to earth as a person and died for us and instead of us that God's wrath be satisfied and we might come to know Him.
Pilot
While doing some research for this blog, I found online the advice given by a Greek proverb:
“Friends should be few but good.”
Young people today grow up with similar word compellations resounding in their ears. It starts in middle school (appropriate timing) and echoes through high school. In my own personal experience, this mantra died a little in college (since at University anybody who’s anybody is a friend). However once you flip the tassel and you don’t live within a 5 minute radius of everyone you know, you come to truly understand the fact that most people are in your life for a season. There are only a few who will be there with you from the time you meet them, til the time you meet your Maker. You may come to realize that even though we are equipped with facebook and mobile phones, you are not going to have the same caliber of friendship that you presently do. And you further realize that soon you will have to start the friendship making process All. Over. Again. -There sneaks that proverb up in your head, reverberating in your ears as if someone outside you were actually speaking it, “friends should be few but good.”
It sounds so wonderful. All you have to do is find a few good people, no less than one, no more than many. Sounds doable, wonderful actually. Sounds ambiguous but we can move past that. Sounds like I only need to find a few people to talk with in my everyday life. To whinge at when the feces hits the oscillator. To be vulnerable with when I’m feeling low and like crap and just want to spontaneously combust on the bus whilst coming home from work and then maybe people will be curious about my terrible, horrible, no good very bad day (Alexander is not alone on this one…).
Person 1: “Look at that girl- she just combusted spontaneously on the Metro. Her day must have been really bad”.
Person 2: “I didn’t even notice her until she exploded. Man, I wish I would have been more attentive to her circumstances before she was a pile of sporadically placed innards”.
(Oh right like I’m the only one who while going through a trial dreams outrageous exits where people finally are paying attention to me and my needs. Please).
Oh who am I kidding? It sounds like a sad existence. To be completely honest with you (which, if not now when?) I must say that I have always found proverbs like this to be for the weak sauce- a sad excuse for the un-relatable to justify why they can only find a few people who will choose to communicate with them on a regular basis.
Out of all the crap that I have been through in my life (which in the grand scheme of things is not much) I have had the honor and the privilege of having numerous really, really good friends standing with me, fighting for me, and laughing at me. In all seasons of my existence (well middle school and after), I have an eclectic collection of very treasured men and women who put their hearts and souls on the table for everyone to see. Exposing their strengths and flaws and choosing to love each other (and me!) no matter what. While every single one of their friendships has molded my life- made me wittier, more lovable, more relatable, more comical, more approachable- this blog is not about them. But you should know that all the decisions I make today, I make with a foundation in Christ and an unshakable support system from my fellow earthlings. My cyberspace real estate would be much duller without the influence of the aforementioned.
Thought you should know.
“Friends should be few but good.”
Young people today grow up with similar word compellations resounding in their ears. It starts in middle school (appropriate timing) and echoes through high school. In my own personal experience, this mantra died a little in college (since at University anybody who’s anybody is a friend). However once you flip the tassel and you don’t live within a 5 minute radius of everyone you know, you come to truly understand the fact that most people are in your life for a season. There are only a few who will be there with you from the time you meet them, til the time you meet your Maker. You may come to realize that even though we are equipped with facebook and mobile phones, you are not going to have the same caliber of friendship that you presently do. And you further realize that soon you will have to start the friendship making process All. Over. Again. -There sneaks that proverb up in your head, reverberating in your ears as if someone outside you were actually speaking it, “friends should be few but good.”
It sounds so wonderful. All you have to do is find a few good people, no less than one, no more than many. Sounds doable, wonderful actually. Sounds ambiguous but we can move past that. Sounds like I only need to find a few people to talk with in my everyday life. To whinge at when the feces hits the oscillator. To be vulnerable with when I’m feeling low and like crap and just want to spontaneously combust on the bus whilst coming home from work and then maybe people will be curious about my terrible, horrible, no good very bad day (Alexander is not alone on this one…).
Person 1: “Look at that girl- she just combusted spontaneously on the Metro. Her day must have been really bad”.
Person 2: “I didn’t even notice her until she exploded. Man, I wish I would have been more attentive to her circumstances before she was a pile of sporadically placed innards”.
(Oh right like I’m the only one who while going through a trial dreams outrageous exits where people finally are paying attention to me and my needs. Please).
Oh who am I kidding? It sounds like a sad existence. To be completely honest with you (which, if not now when?) I must say that I have always found proverbs like this to be for the weak sauce- a sad excuse for the un-relatable to justify why they can only find a few people who will choose to communicate with them on a regular basis.
Out of all the crap that I have been through in my life (which in the grand scheme of things is not much) I have had the honor and the privilege of having numerous really, really good friends standing with me, fighting for me, and laughing at me. In all seasons of my existence (well middle school and after), I have an eclectic collection of very treasured men and women who put their hearts and souls on the table for everyone to see. Exposing their strengths and flaws and choosing to love each other (and me!) no matter what. While every single one of their friendships has molded my life- made me wittier, more lovable, more relatable, more comical, more approachable- this blog is not about them. But you should know that all the decisions I make today, I make with a foundation in Christ and an unshakable support system from my fellow earthlings. My cyberspace real estate would be much duller without the influence of the aforementioned.
Thought you should know.
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