I know she can GET the job, Harry, but can she DO the job?

I have always thought that making first-or-second-year college students pick a major was a little ridiculous. How on earth is someone supposed to know, at age 18, what they want to do with their lives? [1] I cannot tell you how many people I talked to in my senior year who decided that they didn't want to be an education or business or psych major, but they only had one more semester and changing their minds would mean more time and money spent at school. And yes, I know that (thankfully!) many employers are just looking for a degree in general, nevermind what that degree is in, and no (just for the record), I'm not saying that getting a degree isn't worthwhile (although see [1] and a probable future post for more thoughts on this), but the point is: that's a hell of a lot of pressure to put on someone fresh out of high school, who--thanks to senior year and an unrealistic sense of self-assurance--thinks they actually know what it is that they want to do.

Like me, for example. I knew exactly what I was doing with my life (note the rueful shake of the head). I never even changed my major, because I knew before going to college that I was going to get my English degree, and then go on to grad school to study Composition And Rhetoric, and then become a tenured English professor and teach college freshmen How To Write and have a book-lined office with a comfy swivel chair and be that crazy blue-haired professor who changed students' lives on the regular.

Confession: I had no idea what "rhetoric" actually was (something Aristotle something), and now after a year and a half of grad school I might be able to explain it to you. Same applies for "tenure." I have also learned (in a mere 3 semesters of teaching) that I'll settle for making sure my students remember to bring a pencil to class, and convincing them that teachers DO actually notice when you use 12.5 point font (and that it just makes you look desperate when I've told you seventeen times that there isn't actually a page requirement). [2]

--anyway the point is, being an English Composition professor just made the most sense. Writing has always been pretty easy for me (which is why I would wait until the night before to do it...), and I care about reaching students at the early-adult-stages because that's the time when most people deal with/go through a lot of pretty significant life changes. I certainly did. And you'd think (maybe) that the fact that literally all of my other plans had changed would have indicated to me that I should rethink the English Prof one--but no, I'm stubborn, and it was the one thing I was determined to hold on to. Going To Grad School was the reason I turned down a promotion at The Corporation (at least three different times), why I only half-heartedly looked for better-paying (and more enjoyable) jobs, why I spent my summers trying to study for the damned GRE and write up application essays instead of doing the thing that has always been waiting (patiently) on the sidelines for me to notice it. I was thoroughly devastated when I didn't get accepted on my first round of applications (surely the magna-cum-laude-with-honors and a talent for writing would up my chances of a killer statement of purpose?!) but then not getting accepted just became a challenge that I had to take on, which I did, because I knew that I could if I just tried a little harder.

Not once did I stop to think whether or not that was what I really wanted to do.

The summer before I started school was the first time I gave myself a break, took The Pressure Of Everything Else off, and allowed myself to take my writing seriously. After all, I had the time, and no other commitments, and I might as well make the most of my summer before I moved on with my "real" life. And then I wrote more that summer than I've ever written, and it was messy and mostly awful and that project has been temporarily shelved, but it underscored the thing I've always known and pretended not to: I want to write fiction. My heart has always been in the young adult fantasy shelves, with the stories about girl heroes and adventures, with magic and romance and learning about life and relationships and yourself. But then grad school happened, and there I was, doing what I'd worked so hard to do and trying (only somewhat successfully) not to be miserable while doing it.

This is a post about Making and Changing Plans (she explained), but allow me to take a small detour to talk a little bit about whining. The thing is, it's so hard to explain where I am with school without looking like I'm just pathetically complaining about having relatively-demanding responsibilities. On the one hand, my problems are directly related to the combination of the objective, widely-accepted stress about grad school and my own struggle with anxiety. Being a graduate student is all-consuming: you wake up in the morning thinking about the work you have to do, and frequently just doing your chores feels like reprieve. [3] But I also never feel like I am doing as much as I should, and I never reach a point where I can look at my to-do list and say "yep, crossed everything off for today." And because I'm teaching, I have the weight of the education of 48 students on my heart, and the constant feeling of failure when it comes to providing meaningful feedback on their work (which only about a third of them will read anyway), as well as managing my interpersonal anxiety when it comes to overly-confident-and-cocky students (or, worse, the totally non-confident students, when my Big Sister Function kicks on and it's all I can do not to hug them while they're crying). It's little wonder that I'll take my victories in the form of pencil-equipped students on a daily basis.

But that's only one side of it. The other side comes directly from the fact that I can't seem to stop from talking about how hard of a struggle this is. And that's the really upsetting thing about grad school: it consistently makes me feel like a failure, like I am the kind of person who would rather be doing anything other than the work she's supposed to be doing. It makes me genuinely concerned that I am lazy and/or incompetent, that I am bad at sticking things out, that I can't handle actual responsibility (so much for motherhood) and I'm never going to be happy because all I want to do is watch Netflix and color--and that all of this is my fault, because I'm useless. Personal life history and character references will probably (hopefully) prove otherwise, but grad school makes it hard for me to even know who I am anymore, and between weeks 1 and 15, sometimes it's literally all I can do to have a good solid cry on the couch (or the floor, or the shower, you know, wherever). [4]

For those of you who have asked me about school and gotten the overly-dramatic time-for-a-paxil answer, this is why. And then I hear myself say (again) how it's really challenging and how rough of a time I've had, and then I hate myself for whining about all of this, again, and then I shut up because methinks the lady doth protest too much.

And thus I return to my main point, which is that having plans is fine, and being the kind of person who pursues her goals is fine, but what we often forget to tell ourselves is that we need to take time to consider what it is we actually want to do, and whether our Well-Made Plans are really getting us there.

Last semester I had to decide whether to turn in an application to renew my teaching assistantship, as well as one to the Creative Writing department to Continue My Education and get a PhD (because regardless of the fact that The Plan had always been a PhD in comp/rhet, getting a PhD in general was still acceptable). It's such a good opportunity, everyone said, and it would be silly not to at least apply because you can always decide not to go later. And even if none of UWM's fiction writing classes will specifically help you with what you want to write, you can still benefit from the classes, because writing and sharing your work will always help you improve, won't it?

I am not ARGUING that with you, Harry. [5]

But for the first time (that I can think of anyway), I made an active decision not to act on something that I could have. I nervously took some deep breaths as December deadlines passed me by. Filling out some forms? No big deal. [6] But what was a big deal was realizing that even taking that step--even pretending that I would decide later--meant that there was a really good chance that I would make myself do it. Because, damn it all, I'm not a quitter! I'm not someone who flakes out on Serious And Important Life Goals! I am not someone who just gives up on her dreams!

Not arguing that with you, Harry. But just because I can get the job--and maybe, even if I CAN do the job--it doesn't mean that I have to.

Now (almost 10 years after Making Plans) I finally, actually, know what I want.

I want to write novels and raise a family. I want to go to a job that allows me to actually cross items off my to-do list, a job that I don't need in order to feel fulfilled, and I want to leave everything there when I come home. I want to read ALL of the books and learn not to feel like I'm disappointing anyone (myself included/especially) for not Being Productive every waking moment. I don't mind hard work, and I don't mind challenges. But if I'm going to face those, no matter what, they might as well be hard work and challenges on the road to doing the things I'm actually interested in.

So, long story short (much too late, they chorused): I'm about to hit the ground limping with my final semester of grad school. [7] I'm really, really overwhelmed by it (I have to write my thesis and teach a totally new class, not to mention ignore the noisy conflict of senioritis and highest-grad-school-stakes-so-far), and I could use your prayers, because I'm already a couple of emotional meltdowns in and the semester hasn't even started yet. But if Joe can jump into a volcano, and if Addie can leave the castle to find the cure for the Gray Death [8], then I can (probably) (hopefully) make it through the next 3.5 months.

And then?

I guess we'll find out.

---
[1] Not to mention the fact that we tell them to go directly to college, do not pass go, do not collect any money for having a full time job to grow up a little and figure out what you want out of life (because you certainly won't be making enough money to pay for college, to the collected dismay of the older generations) -- but that's for a different post.

[2] For the record, blue hair washes out right away and looks terrible with my complexion, and besides, I don't even like to own books.

[3] If that doesn't capture the sense for you, I don't know what will.

[4] For my Catholic friends out there: how do I nominate my husband for sainthood?

[5] This, the title, and the images are from the movie Joe versus the Volcano, which if you haven't seen yet you absolutely should.

[6] Sending in creative writing samples and actually getting accepted to the program? Much bigger deal. All things considered, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have gotten accepted anyway (realistic observation, not self-depreciation). But that's not actually the point, so this got footnoted instead.

[7] I've considered quitting, but Aaron has convinced me that I should have something to show for all the work I've done (emotional and otherwise), so I guess I'll at least give it a shot. See [4].

[8] Bonus points if you know what this is from -- looking at you, Minte.

Rhetoric, Anxiety, and the Apology I'm (Supposed To Be) Living Without

It's been a while.

Mostly, I blame grad school--there really isn't time to do much outside of schoolwork. And summer is always much crazier than I expect it to be, and any writing I did was working on my novel (which I have since decided I need to shelve and ponder for a while because of reasons).

But the time away has given me a chance to think about the point of having a blog in the first place. I can certainly tell you what I do with it: sometimes I vent, occasionally I post an article I find interesting, and once in a great while I just like to update the virtual community about the goings-on in my life. But somewhere under all of that I know what this is really for--and I try to pretend I'm not avoiding it.

When I created this blog in 2011, it was because I was sick of not saying what I thought, sick of hiding from the things that I think and believe and care about. I was fresh out of college and everything was new and different and I decided: this is it. This is my space to think out loud. I'm going to create a blog that people have to choose to read, and it's not my fault if they don't agree, and if they don't care enough to hear me out and respect my perspective then that says more about them and the true nature of our relationship than it does about me.

That determination lasted for about three posts, and then I moved on to "I loved this book" and "ooh look at this interesting article I read." And now, years later, I'm still hiding.

Some of you may know, or have guessed, but it's not really a secret: I deal with a lot of anxiety. I've been told by a professional (but just one, so take that as you will), that I rank in the 93rd percentile for the amount of anxiety I have. (That means, she explained to a mathematically-challenged Piera, that only 7 percent of the population has more anxiety than I do.) That's... well, that's a lot of anxiety. I've lived with it for long enough that I don't always notice it, and teaching myself TO notice it has been the real challenge, but it's been getting better. Mostly. But it doesn't help me much when it comes to being honest with people about what I think. It's to the point now that a lot of the time I try to figure out how to say as much of what I mean in as little words as possible, because I can't believe that anyone would want to hear me talk long enough for me to get to what I'm actually trying to say. Mostly, that belief just shuts me up--I can't think fast enough, can't get to my main point fast enough, so it's probably better just to say nothing at all.

You might be wondering what I'm talking about. If you've made it this far (see my disbelief, above), then rest assured that I'll get to the point. Eventually. Probably.

It's hard, I have discovered, to exist as a practicing Christian in largely non-Christian environments. So hard, in fact, that a few people have been surprised to discover that I am a Christian. Someone told me once that they appreciated the way that I went about being one, because I didn't shove it in people's faces. In a certain sense, I was quite pleased to hear this, because I have little patience for people (Christians and non-Christians alike) who aggressively shove their beliefs in the faces of others. Underneath that initial pleasure, however, was the sinking feeling of failure, of being lukewarm. What does it say about my faith if I hold it so close to my heart that it surprises people to discover it there? And (more importantly) what does it say about God and what it means to have this faith--especially one that, as too few of you know, I hold at the very core of every way that I understand the world?

People (Christians and non-Christians alike) have an increasing tendency to make declarative statements about their beliefs, without considering (a) whether that statement truly aligns with and represents their "worldview" or theology, or (b) how they sound while making these broad, generalized comments. I have tried for my entire life to avoid doing either of these things. When non-Christians do them, I feel a vague sense of "that's not fair," because if I were to voice my beliefs about a particular topic, it would be generally written off as being preachy and obnoxious (and ain't nobody got time for that). But the thing is, when Christians make ignorant or abrasive comments, it makes me annoyed, nearly to the point of angry. Sometimes it's a matter of theology, and by theology I mean that what they are saying is not what the Bible actually says or means. Sometimes, even if their theology is correct, said Christian comes across as just generally being a loudmouthed jerk. Either way, Christianity, Christ, and the faith are all sorely misrepresented.

Before half of you who are reading this explode into a kind of frenzied alarm about my theological values, let me add this: I am not saying that Christians shouldn't advocate for their beliefs when those beliefs are fully grounded in what God has told us through his Word. I'm also not saying that those beliefs will be welcomed by the world, or that we should amend our beliefs so that they will be accepted by everyone. I'm not saying this at all. Both Jesus and Paul, among others (okay, like everyone in the Bible), make it perfectly clear that what we have to say is not going to be popular, and that is part of the challenge we face while we are still on earth. But there is a difference between holding firm to what you believe and being belligerent or rude about those beliefs.

In Paul's letter to the Colossians, he writes: "Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." [1]

Paul's not telling the Colossians (or us) to "say things that people want to hear." But he is explaining that as children of God, it's our job to live in a way that demonstrates the love and peace of Christ Jesus.

But, because this post is really about me and my issues (hashtag selfie...!), Paul also doesn't say "hide the truth, defend your pride, keep your mouth shut so you don't cause any conflict." And this is my daily struggle. This is the battle I continue to lose.

I'm so jealous of the people who seem to find it easy to state their beliefs on any given topic. Many of them even do it gracefully, in a way that people listen and accept that while they may have a different view, that person is entitled to those beliefs. Some of them have told me that I just need to "care less about what people think," which might have some value, but then again, might not be a value that I can fit into who I am. And besides I've spent too many years being told, by different people and in different ways, that what I have to say is only valid so long as it doesn't run contrary to what the other person is saying. Most of the time, in my effort to be humble, I give up on expressing myself in order to validate the other person (which, I should add, is more out of cowardice than actual humility). And now, here I am, trying to exist as an adult (ha!) with many people who don't share my beliefs or my faith, and with whom I am trying to maintain various types of relationships.

The problem, I have realized, is that there are so few people that I actually trust to hear me out, to let me hold the shrew-stone [2] long enough to make sense of my "divided mind" [3] and get to some kind of point. It's hard for me to accept that I take a while to process my thoughts. I like to think I have a quick wit, generally speaking, but when it comes to things I care about, things that matter, things that have to come from the very protected core of who I am--it might take hours, or days, or years. I might never say it, no matter how much I need to, no matter how much I want you to hear it. Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing you, afraid of inviting an argument, afraid of damaging your feelings, afraid that I might have any kind of effect on you at all, and that you might resent me for it.

But even in those moments when I get over myself, when I truly believe that the things I have to say might be more important than either of our feelings, I am faced with the paralyzing fear that I will say the wrong thing. At the core of it all, I'm a writer. Words matter. And if I haven't had the time to draft and reflect and revise, then I'm not ready to tell you. And conversations move so fast, and you're almost done with your beer, or I have to get to class, and my ideas are exploding like fireworks and I can't pull the shells together fast enough to even hand you a piece of shrapnel as we walk away from each other. And anyway, even if I was a little faster, I might hand you the wrong piece, something out of context that doesn't really say what it's supposed to mean.

It's better to stay quiet. It's safer. I can't fuck anything up that way.


I've been writing this post in my head for years. I've started it twice and walked away from it. Right now I'm working on my third version of this draft, and I'm still fighting the urge to tuck it away somewhere, to not say anything at all and certainly not share this post on any kind of social media. This is my problem, my particular dramatic emotional issue. No one really needs to know about it.

Why do we blog, anyway? Why do we tweet, or repost, or share pictures about our lives? Do we really think our mostly-unregulated circles of kind-of-but-not-actually-"friends" care about what we have to say? Do we really think we'll make some kind of impression on anyone? Do we want to? Do we care?

I care. I care too much. I care about the person who's upset that I used the word "fuck" just now (and in a post about Jesus, too!). I care about the person who's caught up on my having a faith that's not even supposed to be widely accepted. I care about the people who are going to leave a comment to be supportive, to tell me that they care, that they think I have worthwhile things to say. I care too much, but I don't think any of that matters. I don't think I'm doing this for you. I think I'm writing because I have to, because it's eating at me from inside and if I don't start writing, don't start sharing in some capacity, don't take my rants out from behind my shower curtain and make them in some way public, I'm going to drive myself mad.

Peter tells us to "live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God." [4] That's why I started writing: because I am a free servant of God, and because's he's given me a capacity to write. He planted all these fireworks, and he's going to keep setting them off. I don't know if I'll ever know whether I'm affecting you. I don't think that's the point. I have to trust in the freedom I'm given, and trust that he wouldn't set me loose on the world if he didn't think it was a good idea. I have been saved by grace, through faith, [5] and that faith sets me free--free from fear and from the constant pressure I put on myself to be perfect.

Living without apology is the single most difficult thing I have ever tried to do. And it might never get any easier. But since I have the hope of Christ "as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul" [6] --what have I got to lose?

---
[1] Colossians 3:12-17
[2] it's a Redwall reference. basically everyone has to shut up while the person with the stone says what they have to say.
[3] in Greek, the word "anxious" translates most literally as "drawn in opposite directions" or "divided into parts." See here for more details.
[4] 1 Peter 2:16
[5] Ephesians 2:8
[6] Hebrews 6:19a

countdown

I think it finally hit me that my life is changing again, and I'm sort of in backpedal mode. No, I'm not pregnant. But I am starting grad school in September, and I am instructing two sections of English 101 in addition to taking my actual graduate courses (and still barista-ing on the side!) and basically, two weeks from now I will be trading in life as I know it so I can start all over again.

This was always part of my 'plan' [1], but it's hard to accept that I am, in fact, actually going back to school and actually getting hands-on, with-guidance practice/experience for the thing that I want to do as my career. I don't know how to be excited about that, because it's not even really ... real. It's like this pretend on-paper thing that's happening and it's all sort of still vague and overwhelming. Plus, the thought of actually teaching and being responsible for not one but two entire classes is just ... I mean, it's terrifying. Exciting, but terrifying. And I know in the back of my head that I really just have to--you know, show up, and go through the motions, and try not to stress out about how it's not going at all how I planned, and we'll all get through it together, but for the right-now, while I have the time to be thinking about it, it's sort of looming overhead as this big, all-consuming unknown thing.

And the weirdest part is that right now, I'm looking at the time I have before the four (count 'em, four) orientations before school starts, and I'm thinking, maybe I shouldn't have done this in the first place. I feel like I just started to figure my shit out. I somehow magically jumped the hurdle of "getting my ass in gear" and I have been faithfully writing, working out, and reading the Bible. Like, pretty much every day, or in a comfortably-alternating pattern. [2] I am creating, rather than finding, a balance of work/social life/Piera time. I've stopped stressing out quite so much about the times when I decide to do something relaxing, because it's occurred to me that it's actually good for me to let myself chill out for a while (who knew). In some ways I feel that I have a lot more on my mental/emotional plate than I have in a while, but in other ways, I feel a lot more at peace with myself in general. And I'm excited about it, and about being generally positive and happy, and I'm not ready to give it up yet! I just freakin got here!

Two weeks. Two weeks and three weekends of actually being the way I've been trying to be for the last three years: content. And that's already slipping away because the list of "things I have GOT to do before school starts" is growing--things like my proofreading gig, and having to actually research and decide on (and pay for....) my own health insurance, and cleaning/organizing my study (and finding a desk to put in it, which is really the most important part), and changing my facebook settings so that students can't see my stuff, and making sure I have some quality time with the sibs before they leave for school again, and buying things like nice pants and shoes maybe? and I already have upcoming weekend plans, and ... suddenly I don't even have my two weeks anymore, and I'm careening down the slippery slope into the future.

Don't get me wrong: I absolutely would not take it back. I can't wait to be back in school. I like me the best when I am in school--I love constantly learning, constantly writing, constantly being presented with new ideas and new ways of thinking. I love the schedule and the routine and the whiteboards and all of it. It just seems that I have been working so hard to get here that I have wasted the last three years, and it's almost ... not fair? to suddenly have figured out how to live a life that I enjoy. That I want. I finally hit my stride, and haven't I been looking for it my entire life?

In a way, it's probably taken these last three years of work and discontent and disappointment and hope in order for me to be "ready" [3] for this. A friend of mine pointed out that I needed to go through all of the challenges of the last few years in order to to learn how to face Life and find some kind of balance. I have to stop thinking of it as a waste and start trying to see it as the learning process--but that's hard to do when I am finally here, and I can't remember what was so hard about it in the first place. Then again, I will have had a few months of this before I get started... maybe I needed it all to happen right now in order for me to be excited enough to carry it with me into the upcoming semester.

What I'm saying is, I just want to BE at the start of Orientation #1. Once I hit the ground running I won't have the time to look back, even if I wanted to--and I definitely don't want to.

---
[1] don't worry, I never actually counted on said plan, but it was, you know, there
[2] side effects may include: not knowing who you are anymore; wondering how long it's going to last before you fizzle out; random bouts of ridiculous excitement over the amount of productive I feel in a given day
[3] I'll probably be referencing this post from now until the day I die...

how i became a writer

For my entire life, I have wanted to be a Writer.

Naturally this means getting published, and even, maybe, (although I would never admit to such a wishful hope) producing a bestseller one day. I've been journaling and daydreaming and telling stories for as long as I can remember, and with nothing really to show for it, except a box of diaries, a computer folder dedicated to notes and story ideas, and one novella that I "completed" in high school and can't bear to re-read.

This week, I decided to take a page out of Castle's book, and take myself seriously. [1]

...anyway. In college, for my senior honors project, I decided I was going to start writing a book. At the end of the semester, I presented on it, I graduated, and under the pretense of "stepping away from it to let it develop in the back of my mind," I haven't opened the file since. [2] I had 41 pages, a lot of notes, and most importantly: inklings of an idea about what it means to Be A Writer.

In the last week of trying to Write More, these ideas have begun to resurface in the practical, hands-on kind of way, and I am eager to share [3] what I believe to be a decent foundational approach to the insurmountable task of Getting Started. [4]

1: the muse is a tease

Basically every creative person I know waits to write or draw or whatever until "the muse descends." Because when you've got some down time and you're just feeling really inspired and passionate, it's a great time to bust out the old moleskine and be clever. Except the problem is that we then tend do nothing until we get those surges of creative energy, and let's face it, the most common time to get them is either right as you're falling asleep, or when you're in the shower. [5] If you only wait for the muse, the number of times you are actually productive dwindles significantly, until you all but forget that you like to write in the first place. So don't wait. [6] You can't rely on the muse (that fickle minx) and you shouldn't. When I'm feeling inspired I'm also at the height of my perfectionism, and I hardly ever get anything done, because I'm too worried about losing the Perfect Moment to horrible writing. On the flip side, however, if you condition yourself to write every day, or every other day, for some concentrated amount of time, you are at least producing something. One and a half pages of crap is still better than nothing. Which brings me right to my next point, which is this:

2: editing and writing are not the same thing

I like to edit. In fact, I could spend all of my Designated Writing Time reviewing the last four pages, making them the best four pages you have ever read, and at the end of this time period (which really is never long enough, but it's what I have), I haven't actually written anything. This ... well, this defeats the purpose. Four pages of really brilliant writing is still only four pages, and doesn't get me a publishing deal. And yeah, it's awful to skim yesterday's work and not do anything about the fact that you hate it, and is that even what you want to say? And does this ramble? And is that a good character-driven bit of dialogue? But the thing is, it still doesn't get me another page. I'm training myself to leave it alone, to look forward to the time that I can red-pen the hell out of my ~*finished manuscript*~ and until then, I'm going to focus on actually producing said manuscript. Which means no editing.

3: there's nothing permanent about your decisions

is very closely related to #2, but I make it a separate heading because it has two main points I want to address. The first is for perfectionist, anxious creatives like me: it's okay to pick a direction for the sake of getting some writing done. Nothing is final until probably like, the final publishing date [7], and if you spend your whole 47 minutes of writing time dithering over character names or period settings, you still don't have more than four pages. Pick one, and go for it. If you hit a problem somewhere in the future, reassess as necessary. Names? Use one so ridiculous you won't become attached to it, and wait until it presents itself. Or better yer, spend some time outside of said designated writing time in order to brainstorm ideas and make notes for yourself.

The other side of this section is for perfectionist, anxious creatives like me: it's okay to change your mind about a past decision. Even one you were in love with. It's hard to let go of the things you loved (especially when they were just so good!) but more often than not, it's necessary. Mostly in terms of editing (because let's be honest, that's when you basically destroy everything you wrote and start over), but also in terms of just writing something down. You have to let the writing go in the direction it wants to go, and not get caught up in "but I was going to do it this way!" I only half believe in the writers' myth that your characters and story run away from you, but that half of me is pretty darn convinced. [8]

I'm pretty sure that Stephen King said something about "killing your darlings," [9] and that's ironic, because it brings me to my next thought:

4: there really is nothing new under the sun

I have a friend who doesn't even like to use the term "creative" because she believes that if God created the world and everything in it, all we are doing is copying it in a variety of ways. I think there's some truth to that. There are limitless scenarios and nuances, but the core ideas about humanity, relationships, and emotions are never going to change. Someone is always going to say "wow, way to rip off ___." Obviously there's a fine line here, and I'm not suggesting that 50 Pairs of Shoes is going to be a successful romance novel, but when it comes down to it, you can't spend all of your energy trying to create something completely new. Because it won't be. And anyway, the Greeks probably did it first.

5: writing is writing is writing

People keep telling me that the menial journaling and blogging that I do still counts as writing. I have a really hard time accepting this, because as previously stated I am an anxious perfectionist. But in the end, every little bit still counts toward the final goal. Everything you produce is proof that you can produce something, even that page of terrible poetry or the sketch of the family on the back of a napkin. Not everything you produce in the course of your life will be worthy of publishing or selling--but that doesn't make it meaningless. Do you write for the recognition of having written something, or do you write because writing is just...fun? Goodness knows I have to remind myself this. And goodness knows--writing isn't always fun. It's almost like a relationship: you have to dedicate the time and energy, even when your heart isn't in it, even when you wish it could be better. Writing isn't just an isolated magical Thing--it's a process, a habit, a way of life. It doesn't get better unless you do it, and you can't do it if all you care about is the end result.

Am I a writer? You know what, I think I am. I might not be a good one, I might be a little rusty--but I write, and I do it because I adore it. And I think that even for anxious perfectionists like me, that is enough.

---

[1] I use "decide" as a very loose term here, but that's a story for a different post. Also, look at all the clever jokes. ahaha.

[2] except for just now, to see how many pages it was. Sorry, Andy. It's lost but not forgotten.

[3] primarily with other struggling creatives out there, because I feel your pain, but with everyone too because what the heck

[4] I mean, for whatever that's worth, since I have approximately four pages of Brilliant New Story and have never been remotely published

[5] that last bit might just be me.

[6] I think this is essentially what Stephen King is saying in his infamous "butt glue" quote (you know, about making yourself sit down to write and then staying there until it happens). I quite enjoyed On Writing, but I also appreciate Peter M Ball's objections to it, because--well, because he gets me.

[7] clearly, I don't know the first thing about this process

[8] see also [4] because I will be the first to admit I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm guessing Being A Writer is sort of like Being In Love ... you just know.

[9] or he was quoting Faulkner? It doesn't matter enough to research this right now

why i've been going crazy for the last few months

I can't decide if posting this is cheating, since I didn't write it for my blog in particular, but I guess it's no worse than posting a link to someone else's blog? So here it is: my grad school application essay. It feels a teeny bit pretentious to show it off, but I'm kind of proud of it, so...whatever.

Oh, and while I'm being self-conscious, I thought about taking out the school-specific details at the bottom, but then I didn't.

Anyway, enjoy.

---
When I assign the first paper in my future English 101 class, it will be on a current and controversial topic sure to elicit strong opinions from my students. This will encourage them to share their perspectives while giving me a snapshot of their writing abilities. But my favorite part of this assignment will come at the end of the semester, when I ask them to write a second paper on the same topic—except this time, they have to write it from the opposite point of view.

I can’t wait for the uproar when they learn that this is their final.

This assignment epitomizes what I find so glorious about writing. On a practical level, it requires a structured outline, thorough research, and the ability to present information in a logical progression. But this assignment is about more than just composing The Perfectly-Written Essay. It forces students to build an argument from scratch, and to learn how to use language to support an idea—even an idea they disagree with. In committing to the writing instead of only to the position, students learn the value of each and every word used to present a perspective. In using their writing to communicate to the world, students learn the power those words have, and the importance of having reasonable support for their ideas.

There comes a time in our lives when we have to figure out what we love and what we stand for. We have to account for ourselves, but in order to do so, we first have to understand ourselves. In college—right when we need it the most—we learn a beautifully structured method for thinking through an idea and supporting an opinion: expository writing. The classic essay format provides a way to identify the questions we are asking, and gives us the medium with which to answer them. But most of all, the essay calls for order in the form of a thesis. And when students are inspired to create and deliver a personal opinion by means of that thesis, they not only learn to write effectively, but also they also come to a better understanding of their own beliefs.

The unfortunate reality, however, is that college writing assignments are often a wasted effort. Working in the Concordia Writing Center for four years revealed to me that even the most diligent of students do not take their English Composition classes seriously simply because they are boring. The essay is established only as an arbitrary format for future homework assignments, and students walk away uninspired. And what a shame that is, because learning to write is the perfect platform for learning how to think critically. English Composition must not become obsolete, and I intend to be a part of its regeneration.

To do so, my idealism needs to be met with the reality of experience and the structure of a strong education. My attraction to the English department at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee lies in the department’s dedication to writers, evident in its cross-cultural, interdisciplinary studies as well as in the active support and involvement of the writing center. I look forward to the guidance of scholars with such diverse backgrounds and research interests, particularly Alice Gillam and her course “Teaching Writing as Process,” and Dennis Lynch’s experience as Director of Composition. I am also eager for the opportunity to hold a teaching assistantship, which is the ideal method of a hands-on education for my intended career as a professor of English. I hope to use my experience at UWM to reshape the way we write, and consequently, the way we think, one thesis at a time.

Today, the essay. Tomorrow, the world.

here, have a lame non-post

...because it's really kind of silly to just repost someone else's blog, but seriously, this one, Men and Women are Not Equal, speaks to my soul. plus it's a lot more straightforward than what i probably would have done.

I'm writing a book called "How to Make Enemies" ... let me know if you want an autographed copy

I'm on dangerous ground here. You may know that I like to stay away (far, far away) from today's social issues and politics, because there's too much emotion riding on everything and I have noticed that it is generally hard for people to see reason when they're on a soapbox.

But therein, kids, lies the problem. The pursuit of Justice and Equality is never actually a reasonable one. It's always skewed by someone's agenda, someone's pride, or someone's real or imagined (but mostly imagined) suffering. It's far nobler to fight for a cause than to just look out for ourselves, but when we fight for a generalized cause, we tend to lose sight of ... well, reason. Intelligent, semi-objective, philosophical thought. All of it, out the window, because it's the idea that counts (right?), and not the specifics. [1]

So what got me so riled up that I decided to step out of my cave and make some enemies? Two things that will always provoke in me some ~~feelings: Doctor Who and Feminism.

I've been sitting on this rant since I read this article. Today, I read this one. And I'm already mad at my boss, so it's easy to sort of channel that anger into an I-don't-care-I'm-gonna-say-it-anyway-this-is-my-gorram-blog kind of post. You have been warned. It's not too late to turn back.

[Also, I have issued a Spoiler Alert for the rest of the post.]

Ladies and gentlemen (have you ever noticed that this very common phrase begins with "ladies"? Interesting.), I find this whole "the Doctor should be a woman!" rant to be quite disheartening. Maybe if the arguments were, I don't know, solid, I could get behind them. But when the premise of the argument is made with unsupported claims, they effectively make the people arguing them (and thus, the cause as a whole) look idiotic. (please see [1] again because it applies here too)

Kissell and Helmuth are opposed to having "yet another white British dude" [*] playing the Doctor for, as far as I can tell, two reasons:
a) the Doctor has thus far always played by British white guys, and clearly that's the sexist choice to portray men superior to women, and
b) because the show/Moffat portrays women as "sad and broken." [**]

...wait, what? Sad and broken? Have you even watched the show before, Elizabeth Lopatto?! Let's examine her argument for just a minute: "I'm fine with the next Doctor being a dude, as long as we get more interesting women and a more emotionally competent writer." [**]

I see two glaring problems with this sentence alone. The first is "more interesting women," and the second is "a more emotionally competent writer."

Lady, do you realize that the reason this show is so popular is the overwhelming amount of emotional connection viewers have with the characters and the story? "The Girl in the Fireplace" was the reason many of us fell in love with the Doctor in the first place, because of how much he cared about Reinette and how devastated he was that she died before he came back for her, even though he barely knew her. "Silence in the Library" and "Forest of the Dead," once you understand why, have one of the more tragic plot elements I've ever seen, and the kicker is that you don't even realize how tragic until well into season 6 (I'm not telling you if you don't know). "Amy's Choice" presents the question everyone is asking--Rory or the Doctor?--in a way that makes you sit on the edge of your seat and wonder which Amy will choose, because you sure as hell can't decide for yourself. I don't think the problem is that he isn't "emotionally competent." If it's just that you don't like the way he plays with your emotion, then don't watch the show.

And then--more interesting women? Because Clara, who jumped into the Doctor's entire timeline and rescued him without him even realizing it, and Rose, who absorbed the time vortex to defeat the Daleks, and Martha, who traveled the world to save the Doctor, while being hunted by tiny childlike weapon-aliens, aren't interesting enough? And how could I forget "abuse victim River Song, whose lives are stolen from her by the man she loves, for whom she later goes to jail for a crime she didn't commit; although placeholder/perfume model Amy Pond should get special mention for blandness." Yep, that's right, abuse victim River Song, who is so wounded and broken, except for the part where she stares down a Dalek until it cries for mercy, and how she has the Doctor wrapped around her finger and he doesn't even realize it. Because Amy Pond is a bland placeholder--bland?! really?? you couldn't find any other word? What about Donna, who saved the Doctor and the world and created the Doctor-Donna, and can't even remember it? If that's not "interesting" then I can't help you, Elizabeth. And if you don't like your characters to be "sad and broken" then stick to picture books, because I can think of no great work of literature that doesn't feature someone who isn't sad or broken in some way.

Honestly, it's not the cry for a female Doctor that bothers me. In fact, I think that would be quite the road to go down. From a literary perspective, or a philosophical one, or even from a "hey let's just mix things up!" perspective, it would be very cool if the Doctor was a woman. I'm just honestly so offended at the weak and ridiculous arguments being made for it to happen. It's evident that Laura Helmuth [**] isn't overly familiar with the show, based on the fact that she slips up and says "an actor playing Doctor Who" instead of "an actor playing the Doctor."

Of course, she also refers to Tim Minchin as a "dreamboat." [**] Do you see how her credibility might be plummeting?

Ted B. Kissell [*] actually started to form an argument that might have made sense; one of the most compelling statements I've heard on the subject is his comment on "Moffat's handling of his female leads," which was that "River Song, Amy Pond, Clara Oswald--all of them were mysteries for the Doctor to solve, instead of simply people."

You know what, that's a fair point. [2] This one makes me think a little: does the Doctor just view his companions as mysteries to solve? I can see the argument about those three companions. But then, the Doctor also sort of treats everything as a mystery to solve--and what about Craig in "The Lodger"? He's a "dude" [3], plus, the only reason the Doctor moved in with him was the mystery on the second floor. So if we're arguing that the Doctor doesn't treat people as people, then we have to include...everyone. And that's an entirely different topic than the one at hand.

The other big point Kissell argues is the "structurally sexist" [4] element: "i.e., the power imbalance inherent in the relationship between the male Doctor and his usually female companion." Let us keep in mind that Ted Kissell is upset about the fact that "the insidious cultural marinade known as The Patriarchy has penetrated your brain," so no one let on to him that he's a part of it. [5] Seriously though--the superiority argument is confusing to me. The fact that the Doctor has companions doesn't really seem establish a hierarchy. The term "companion" is an accurate description, and I fail to see how it's insulting. [6] The "inherent" distinction is between Time Lords and humans, but that seems appropriate, doesn't it? Besides, the Doctor needs a companion. He goes a little crazy (and a little miserable) without one. And haven't we just gone over the part where various companions save the Doctor, the world, the universe, reality, etc? These are the kinds of arguments that strike me as really trying to create a problem. Companions are only "inferior" if you choose to perceive them as such, but I don't think that perception is necessarily supported by the actual plotlines, given the textual (episodial?) evidence that the companions are friends, traveling partners, and often heroes.

Then again, why would Moffat make it clear that there could be a woman Doctor if he wasn't going to create one? [7] And what if the Doctor WAS played by a woman? I mean, "having a woman as the smartest, bravest person in the universe, being able to fix any problem, save the world with her wits, a magical vehicle, and boundless courage--who wouldn't want to watch that show?" [*] Sure, I would love to watch that show. It would be awesome. [8] But both Kissell and Helmuth make the observation that Moffat would obviously screw up the female Doctor, since "during the regeneration of Mels into River Song, after all, we were treated to such Moffaty gems as her 'focusing on a dress size,' weighing herself, and going shopping." [*] Because women don't do that? Ever? Wouldn't you, if you weren't a member of the insidious Patriarchy [9] and you transformed into a different body? I think (surprisingly!) Helmuth actually gets closer with her observation that "if Moffat writes us a female Twelve, I imagine she'll be just as sad and broken as the other women he's written." [**] That I actually agree with. And then inevitably, someone would complain that the Doctor was under too much pressure, and she never got the thanks she deserved. Someone else would argue that she was portrayed as too giving, too self-sacrificing, and her goodwill was being abused. Her maternal instinct would be subject to question--why does the fact that she's female mean that she has to take care of everyone? Is that like her role, just because she's a woman? Yet another indignant viewer would be upset that the Doctor's hard decisions made her look like the badguy, and how come she can't be better at saving everyone? Unless the argument is that a female Doctor would find a way to save the world without any casualties. In which case, I don't want to watch that show, because part of the beauty of it is the raw, realistic (well, sorta) element of "you can't win all the battles all the time." The Doctor has to make the hard decisions, and I don't think that should ever change.

I just ... I can't figure out what you want, Feminist Cause. I think it's power for all women, and to ensure that women are not portrayed in pop culture as inferior to men, but it doesn't seem like you're actually evaluating the story, or the characters' relationships, or the philosophy of the Doctor himself. The arguments you are making are sort of trickling through to sound like "I want a woman Doctor because there aren't enough women who do badass things in this show" (false) "and how come it's always weird rando British guys that no one has actually heard of until they were Doctors?" [10] In fact, you're so busy being upset about the fact that the title character is a man, that you're completely missing all the fantastic stuff women in this show are doing. And yeah, the characters are broken. Yeah, people get hurt, and the Doctor is a little bit of an island. But the Doctor doesn't change, not at his core, and we're used to him. It's the women of the show who keep it running, keep it interesting. It sounds like you want someone incapable of being wounded, someone with no sense of fashion, someone who is fearless and flawless and independent and perfect. But I think you would hate her twice as much as you hate that Twelve is a male Doctor.

But then again, I'm on my soapbox. Maybe I'm just not seeing reason.

---
[*] from "The Depressing, Disappointing Maleness of Doctor Who's New Time Lord" (The Atlantic)
[**] from "The Next Doctor Should Be a Woman. You Should Care Even if You Don't Watch Doctor Who" (Slate.com)

[1] This applies to everything, including, mind you, a lot of Christian theology, which will sacrifice actual doctrine in order to support a cause like "evangelism" or "youth ministry." This is an entirely different rant but it was worth noting.
[2] Never mind that basically every woman I know wants to be a mystery ...
[3] Why do both of these authors refer to men as "dudes"? Are they trying to be insensitive to men in order to dole out some justice? Or something?
[4] He took that quote from some other blog, but if you read the article you can find it for yourself. This ain't no research paper, deal with it.
[5] Or that his "favorite doctor, Tennant," is also "another white guy." Just sayin.
[6] Merriam-Webster's first definition is "one that accompanies another: comrade, associate; also: one that keeps company with another."
[7] Maybe because it's an interesting fact for the Doctor Who trivia bank, like the fact that he has children. Or maybe because Moffat is going to change the Doctor into a woman or something, and wouldn't that cause an uproar (and make a lot of people feel really stupid).
[8] Arguably, I watch it every time I sit down to watch Doctor Who. But I think I must be watching a different show than everyone else ...
[9] That's HIS capitalization, by the way, and he didn't capitalize any of the terms he uses to refer to women. Someone explain this to me.
[10] Really, I just wanted to use the word "rando" because it makes me giggle.

get a grip

I am, for the most part, of the opinion that people grow in little spurts, which occur as a result of an external cause (which is usually a "bad" experience, but I find that I learn the most through these in particular). I myself can look back and identify large changes and how they correlate to my chronological life: parents' divorce, starting college, breakup, breakup, etc. To be honest, while I usually dislike the event itself, in periods of stasis I find myself looking forward to these occurrences. That's why I enjoy school so much -- I am constantly finding things to think about, and these thoughts act as little catalysts for development. And I crave this development. Only when I am actively learning, academically or otherwise, do I feel that I am exercising the truest and best parts of my brain and my personality. The thrill of processing new ideas and information carries me through until I get the next hit, and I can sail through life high on inspiration and creativity.

Which is why, ultimately, I was so very upset about not getting into grad school. My reaction probably came across as pretty overdramatic, since it's not unusual not to be accepted the first time you apply places, and it's not like I can't apply again. But for me, it was more than just a delay in reaching my career. Grad school was going to give me another few years of intellectual high, and probably/hopefully give me that one last boost into "adulthood" that I've been waiting for. I couldn't tell you what it is that I'm going to learn or do that will make that happen, but I was (am?) pretty positive that a step or two remains between current Piera and useful-member-of-society-Piera. And grad school felt like my opportunity to reach that change, because it was moving on from barista-ing. I enjoy my job, but once the new-job thrill died down, Starbucks was just ... Starbucks. In some ways I'm jealous of the people who have found their calling in, as we say, "the industry." There's something to be said for contributing in tasty little ways to people's lives, and going home at the end of the day feeling fulfilled. But what I know is that it isn't MY calling, and it'll always make me restless and hungry for something more. Working there has given me plenty of time to observe society, but no way to respond to it. I have learned a lot of useful skills, but now I am just ... re-using those skills, and I don't know where or how to find new ones. I even put off getting promoted because I was positive that I would be moving on, and I didn't want to waste anyone's time by training me.

Anyway, as we all know, God usually has something in mind that is very different from what we expect. This time around, it was not going to grad school in the fall of 2013. And I could not for the life of me figure out WHY--what else was there to learn about this job? How else can I change, besides becoming a shift supervisor (which will only provide a quick intellectual buzz and then fade back into the status quo)? How am I supposed to go to this job every damn day and not worry that this is all I am good for?

Gradually, I figured it out. It took getting a second job, working on two shows (in two capacities), and going basically nonstop with barely enough time to sleep and/or shower for a couple of months before I did, but here I am. Realizing (again.) that some of the stuff my mom used to tell me is actually, in fact, great wisdom.

In high school, and when I was home from college, I would have this problem where I would over-commit. I had friends in different circles, and I hated to tell someone I couldn't do anything because I already had plans with someone else, because it felt like I was picking a favorite. So I would agree to all of it, and drive all over everywhere so I could make it work. [1] And every so often, it would really get to me, and I would be sick of everyone and just want some time for myself--which of course I realized too late, since I was supposed to be going somewhere and I didn't want to let anyone down by backing out. In these moments, my mom would tell me that I needed to stop letting everyone else dictate the course of my life. I, of course, would be furious that she thought I was such a pushover.

Well kids, here I am, nearly 25 years old and realizing how much of a pushover I am. Less so by people, I guess, although I still cave pretty quickly (especially depending on who it is). Mostly, however, it's like Deirdre also used to say: I am so good at adapting to my surroundings that I forget to be myself.

I've spent ...well, at the very least, the last 12 years or so letting life have its way with me. Occasionally I would put my foot down and Make A Change, but pretty much only for the glaringly-big things. In daily life, in the course of weeks and months and (apparently) the last year and a half, I just kind of go along with things, because that's how it goes and I can deal.

But the thing is, I can't deal. I've been going crazy and I have been waiting and waiting for something to change so I will be happy and -- just ... what?

It occurred to me--during tech week, I think, or shortly after--that it's my goram life, and maybe there are things I can't change right now, but there are definitely things that I can. I can't just sit around and wait for conditions to be perfect. [2] If I want things to be different, I need to change them. I got lucky--I got so lucky [3]--that I spent the last several years being literally presented with problems to deal with, and ideas to work on, and people to interact with. I got so comfortable with it that I never really learned how to ... well, self-motivate, I guess, although that phrase seems sort of trite and cliche. I was always jealous of the friends who just Get Shit Done because I never seem to have the time or the inclination to Do those things. And what I realized is ... why not? When people say "you have to make the time" I always respond with "I literally don't have any."

...but Piera. Why not.

Because I spend all of my energy waiting for something to cause me to move. And when nothing does, I find the closest most appealing activity that I can get my hands on, because clearly the magic of discovering a new thing signifies that it will change me. Obviously, this isn't working for me. I have so many things to write, so many books to read. I have let my intellect sort of wither and fade, because nothing external is pushing me to use it. And then I had the audacity to complain that I was losing myself -- because I kept looking for external forces to give me a reason to use them. I was bored, and I forgot to use the one resource I have always had: my own mind. [4]

I will not just be carried downstream anymore; I'm building a raft and I'm learning to steer. This is why I didn't get accepted to grad school: because I can't keep waiting for life to flow in the direction I want it to go. Some parts are necessary and unchangeable--I have a good job, and full-time hours, and I don't love it all the time but it's what I have and that's how it goes right now. But that job doesn't define me. But that job won't define me unless I let it. And I am very done letting it.

So this is my plan. I quit my second job. I turned down a stage managing offer. I claimed the desk in the new apartment and I will assign myself Office Hours, and I will Get Shit Done. Grad school apps, round two. Blogging. Reading. Catching up on my Greek. I even completed day one of my couch-to-5k program this afternoon. [5]

Sometimes, we have no control over life. I believe firmly that we are incapable of controlling it as a whole, because we are broken and human. We are, however, able to control how we react to it, learn from it, change because of it. It's easy for me to look at Big Scary Life Events and say well, we can't control what happens, we just have to learn how to deal. I'm good at that. But what I learned recently is that we also have no control over the fact that sometimes life is mundane. The Big Stuff, I accept as a challenge. I welcome challenge. The little stuff, however, I let take over. And I'm going to... stop letting it. It's going to take more self-discipline than I am used to exercising, because let's face it, the only reason I was so motivated in college was because grades were involved. Real life doesn't have grades. It just has me, being supremely disappointed in myself, which honestly has never been enough of a reason for change. [6] And I have a sneaking suspicion that starting to change this part of my life will create the groundwork for my alleged final level-up into "adulthood" (if not shove me into it altogether, but let's not get too excited).

So this is my plan, because it never gets easier. Hell, it never gets anywhere if you don't start trying.

---
[1] Well technically, I would make my mom drive me everywhere. Which is probably why she started telling me to cut it the hell out.
[2] My last post, but the body is weak, talks a lot about this already, but with less ... I don't know, revelation. That post was a recognition of the situation; this one is ... A Plan Of Sorts.
[3] Except I don't believe in luck, I believe in design, but it sounds sort of poetic here so I'll stick with it
[4] I get bonus points for saying Very Dramatic Things, right?
[5] It was pathetic. Just sayin.
[6] As aside here about stewardship, and how not using my talents for the glory of God is like burying them to "keep them safe," and I'm feeling very passionate in this post so it's coming out from a "I have to be good enough for myself" perspective when there's a whole lot of Jesus and grace and things actually involved. I'm just stating for the record that all of this falls under the category of "Already Assuming XY and Z"

lately.

This isn't quite as cool as my idea of a Tim-Burtony-pop-up-storybook-werewolf video, but since it's actually by the band, I guess it's okay.

Anyway, I'm hoping to return from my accidental hiatus sooner vs later.

---

Edit: I guess you can't really have a hiatus, accidental or otherwise, if you don't really post on a regular basis. I guess what I mean is that I actually have some things I want to blog about and I keep putting those things off.

pretty awesome.

here's another commentary-less link for y'all! Just some ideas to think on.

wanting, wishing, and peaches

This filibuster of a post is something of a response/continued discussion of (or at the very least, inspired by) the article/presentation "Grammar, Identity, and the Dark Side of the Subjunctive" by Phuc Tran at a TEDx conference. Thanks to Jasmine for sharing it with me on The Facebook (...a long time ago. whoops).

wanting

I love that this guy's dad just straight up told him, "don’t study something you don’t like. What do you like? Study that." Because ... yes. Just freakin yes. Life is too short to get caught up in "but what if" or "should I." We have purpose here, and we crave meaning and fulfillment for our lives. Too often we do things (or don't do things) because we feel that we must, or that we are stuck in the a holding pattern and it's too risky to break out of it. And in doing this, we aren't living meaningful lives. We're just accepting the circumstances we fell into, and giving in to the pressures that got us there, and (essentially) we aren't living the life that we were meant to live. [1]

The key is figuring out what it is you want and pursuing that thing. There's no equation to calculate which decisions will add up to a perfect life, plus, you have zero control over the future. Over your actions and your reactions, yes. But there is no way to know what the future will bring, or who you will meet, or what you might have to go through. There is an infinite amount of possibilities in the unknown, and if you spend all of your time trying to only make the "right" choices (or not making any choices, for fear of the wrong ones), you never really get anywhere, or pursue your own goals. Decision-making, for all its stress and drama (and believe me, I would know), really IS as simple as "what do you want?" Because if you aren't pursuing your goals or your dreams, what are you living for?

Don't get me wrong. It isn't wrong to have a somewhat subjunctive view of the world. It's always wise to consider the possibilities, to weigh the options, to be forward-thinking and responsible. And you can't just live your life by making rash, spur-of-the-moment decisions because you feel like you want something at that moment. Because most of the time I want to sit on my butt and watch tv and eat ice cream. And I never, ever, want to get out of bed to go to work in the morning. But that's not the kind of want I mean. I'm talking about the goals you have at your core, the things that come from your faith and your dreams and your imagination. I want to live in a heated apartment, eat decent food, and drive a safe car. I have neither an inheritance nor a rich husband, therefore, the logical conclusion is that I go to work to help pay for that stuff. I want to go to grad school and become a professor, so I took the damn GRE even thought I hated every second of it. We make sacrifices and compromises in order to meet an end goal, an ultimate desire.

Of course, if the focus is only on getting what we want, then we become self-involved and obnoxious. Enter stage left SIN, and the danger of choosing to live in a way that makes us ~~happy. This entire argument does not exist without the caveat of "sin does tend to make us 'happy' but that doesn't make it okay, or good for us." And when we're dealing with such a precarious concept as "wants," it's extra easy to let our sinful nature rule our actions. For example--I want to not lose face or dignity when I fight with Aaron. Regardless of what the fight is about, I want to be Right, and I want to Win. And if I give in to that desire, and fight for my pride (rather than try to actually resolve a disagreement), then I am, in fact, being self-involved and obnoxious. The argument is also twice as long and three times as awful. If, however, at the core of my desires, I want to maintain a loving, understanding relationship with Aaron, I have to forego my pride and maybe (gasp!) admit defeat. It's the difference between momentary, physical pleasure, and long-term overall happiness. "Usually, the right thing to desire is what makes you the happiest in the long run." [2]

wishing

Of course (if you're me) you then have crises about what is going to make you happiest, and whether you're wanting the Right Things, or if pursuing your desires is making you selfish because you aren't aware of the people around you. And here's where the "subjunctive" (as Phuc Tran would use it) gets in the way. We have a tendency to look back and think "man, if only I had ____" or "I wish I could be more like ____." This thinking is, in short, both pointless and harmful. The fact is that you didn't do that one thing, and you are not like said person. It accomplishes nothing to spend your whole life looking over your shoulder and wishing things had gone differently. I will be the first to admit that I struggle every day with doing this. I worry all the time about whether I screwed up and what people are thinking about me. For the most part I am pursuing my goals (with, at present, an agonizingly lengthy waiting period), and living the way that I feel I am called to be living. As mentioned in footnote [1], I also believe this is exactly where I am supposed to be right now. But that doesn't stop me from feeling guilty that I could not do more, or from being afraid that I have made or will make the wrong decisions.

Lately I have been having a lot of self-conscious anxiety, primarily because I have a tendency to stick my nose into other people's (relationship-related) business. With good intent, mind you, and because I love and worry about my friends, but still in a proactive, confrontational kind of way. [3] And because I care deeply about my friends and their wellbeing, I have a tendency to get vocal about the things that concern me. I have definitely learned that all relationships are different, and that they must be carried out in their own way, and I have also learned that all people need to learn in their own way, and that means usually you have to let them figure it out for themselves. But I have also heard too many times "why didn't anybody say anything," and there have been a couple of times that I could have said something and chose not to, and therefore I am determined to... well, say something. The only problem is that this kind of thing only occurs at those times when the friend in question doesn't really want to hear it, and then I begin to second-guess myself, because who am I to make any sort of comment on another person's choices.

When I expressed some of this self-conscious angst to Caitlin, she responded with resounding encouragement. She commented that we get extremely focused on not messing up, which, in her opinion, is backwards. "We should be focused on proactively doing the right thing," she told me, and it's better to go overboard with good intent than to not say what you felt. She added that because I am "the only one who feels [my] particular feelings," it is up to me to be the one to share them. "There's only one of you, and you were made that way on purpose. Just be it to the full. Care about people exactly the way you care about them, not in a more 'acceptable' way." [4]

This conversation effectively ties together both the indicative wanting and subjunctive wishing. I want to be there for my friends, because I want them to be happy in the overall sense. This means that I choose to do something that I don't really enjoy (such as telling them what they don't want to hear, and probably upsetting them, and possibly even ruining our friendship), in order to accomplish an ultimate goal. Because even if I'm wrong, saying what I said gives them cause to prove me wrong, which then in turn helps to solidify their feelings and opinions. So there is no point in wishing that I had done it differently, because it's already done, and now all I can do is trust that God will use their choices and my actions to help them find meaning and fulfillment in their lives. (see [1] in regards to "meant to be")

another catchy header

Believe it or not, this post was originally in relation to Phuc Tran's article/presentation. And I have one more speculation to make in regards to his discussion of grammar and identity; naturally it is in regards to his use of Star Wars to emphasize his point.

In the Star Wars saga, the Sith Lords speak in opaque subjunctives. Darth Vader says to Luke, "If you only knew the power of the Dark Side." Vader obviously knows how enticing the use of a present contrafactual optative sounded. And Yoda? He speaks with the bare bludgeon of the imperative and indicative. "Do or do not. There is no try." Yoda knows how hard and uncompromising the indicative is. It takes courage to embrace the indicative--it takes real courage. And even though what Yoda says is true, Luke doesn't stay with Yoda in the swamp because he has his own path to weave in between Yoda's indicative truth and Vader's seductive subjunctive. [5]

I'm going to top that nerdiness and add some good old Lutheran theology to the mix, just to see what happens. Obviously, the Sith are the badguys (or, you know, sin); the subjunctive is about guilt and shame and making up for the past or the missed opportunities. The indicative, as portrayed by Yoda, represents the Right Way To Do Things (in other words, the Law, which is of course good, but also impossible). And Luke, human dude that he is, can't stay in the Swamp of Righteousness because, requote, "he has his own path to weave."

And so do we, thanks to our sinful human natures. We are commanded to follow the indicative path of what is right, and yet we are completely unable to do so. We are tempted by the subjunctive of guilt and possibilities, and this causes us to pursue our physical desires, while feeling ashamed of the things we know we've done wrong or that we think we could have done differently. So while we try to live like the Jedi, we will never be as awesome as Yoda, and this failure makes the Dark Side seem more and more inviting, and the truth seem more and more unattainable.

But we have what Star Wars does not: we have grace. Our path is woven out of the fact that we are redeemed, and our salvation comes from outside of ourselves, outside of the confusion of our desires and the regretfulness of wishing. [6] This grace gives us the freedom to live the way we were made, and to pursue our desires: "there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live." [7] We will spend the rest of our lives wishing we had acted differently, or that we ourselves are different, because as long as we are on this earth we will be plagued by our sinful nature. But even when we do look over our shoulders and wish it could have been different, we have the reassurance that "for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." [8]

"And this way of seeing the world? It has real force." [9]

the asides

[1] I will digress to comment (briefly, I hope) on the idea of "meant to be." Because I don't like to use this phrase lightly, and it could theoretically be argued that whatever situation we are in is the one that we are meant to be in. And by "theoretically" I mean that I can and do argue that point. I believe that simultaneously we are where we are meant to be, but also that we need to actively pursue the things that we are meant to do. Those things might change depending on the choices we have made, but then again we are designed in such a way that we are best suited for certain roles, which, if we are pursuing those roles, will place us in situations that allow us to use our talents and personalities to their highest potential. But even if we are not reaching our full potential, we are still exactly where we are meant to be, and in being there we are acquiring the necessary experience in order for us to carry on that pursuit. So it's all "meant to be" but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be ... trying to be what we are meant to be.
It's all sort of wibbly-wobbly.
[2] This is a quote from my favorite older brother, Keaton. Who may or may not remember saying it.
[3] I will abstain from a digression into my feelings and/or passionate opinions about relationships, but rest assured I have a lot of them.
[4] Dear Aussie, please excuse my paraphrase; it was for the good of the narrative. I hope I have done you justice and feel free to send me hate letters if I have not. Just do it in free verse poetry, please.
[5] Yeah yeah, I know I'm an English major and everything, but guess what, I am still too lazy to look up how to correctly cite a quote that some guy said and someone else wrote down so you could read instead of watching the video. I didn't make up that stuff in the quote block or that following phrase in quote marks (which look like this: " "), and you can hear/read it in the original text if you click the link at the top of this post. That Vietnamese guy is the one who thought it in those words first. I'm just using his argument to support my own. Happy? Good. That's all you're getting from me.
[6] "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast." Ephesians 2:8-9
[7] Ecclesiastes 3:12
[8] Romans 8:28
[9] Another direct quote from Mr Tran. See [5]. Please note that I intentionally used his quote to mean something else entirely, and that's probably wrong and stuff. All credit and respect to Mr Tran and his article and original intent. And stuff.
[10] I didn't know what to entitle this post, and I was all out of clever and witty things to say, and Minte told me to call it peaches. So I did.