Monthly Archives: November 2015

Pondering what I didn’t do on Thanksgiving…

“Yes, I’m introducing you to my family strictly to get their opinion of you. What you do and say does matter and you are being judged for it. The outcomes of this meeting could either make or break our relationship. Good luck!”

I’d like to go back in time to when this was acceptable and use my family as a screen for potential suitors. Oh wait, that is totally still acceptable, right?

I’d like to find the guy that I’m comfortable enough around to say this too, and for him to totally understand my degree of seriousness, and rush into the task of meeting my family headlong.

I don’t trust the opinion of every single one of my family members when it comes to suitor potential, but I definitely think some of them would have something good to say, and a potential suitor would have to meet their minimal requirements in order for me to truly accept them.

…Or maybe I’d just accept them and then my family’s approval would just be the cherry on top of being happily in love.

It’d be nice to be happily in love.

 

 

 

 

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Regarding my personal life…

I’m not half as interesting in person as I am when I am composing blog posts which speak mostly to myself. Or maybe I am. Maybe I’m crazy interesting. I do tend to spend most of my out-in-the-real-world time contemplating one-line responses to questions and statements that will make the people around me laugh. Maybe I like attention too much…

At any rate, this propensity for humor has been useful for generally increasing the cheeriness of people around me, but it’s apparently useless in the one-on-one date context. Maybe it’s the people that I elect to spend one-on-one date time with. Maybe I care too much about what they think and so I turn down the humor level and turn up the serious-thoughtful-intelligent-smart Catherine level. (I know, I know, how is it possible to turn that up, how can you get to a level of brilliance that is past “Catherine”?…) I don’t know, but what I do know is that in the presence of a certain male I seem to lose all my great conversational ability.

It’s all…”How’s life?” and instead of saying, “Oh you know, it’s horrible and I think I’m barely hanging on, but I made cookies today, so actually it’s pretty good”, I blandly say “Fine”…and I let the conversation die.

I wonder if this is my fault.

Perhaps I care too much of this person’s opinion of me, and instead of being my wonderful humorous self, I become the reserved Catherine who doesn’t speak up. This would be less annoying if they weren’t doing the exact same thing. Two people hanging out who are too afraid to speak for fear of making the other person lose interest become incredibly boring to each other, and ultimately lose interest.

Let that be a lesson to you, if you let fear control you, you become boring.

Don’t be controlled by fear.

Side note: Wisdom and fear are two different things, knowing that a stove is hot and not wanting to touch it and burn your hand is not fear, but wisdom. So be cautious and be wise, but be not afraid.

– Catherine

 

 

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Pray and Love.

I haven’t posted for ten days, and my last post was on such a deep important issue that it’s hard for me to go back to the unimportant basics of my day.

It’s not hard for my mind to wander back to thinking about myself and my own problems, my own self-love and lack of superior concentration had me doing that within several minutes of composing that post…But thinking about it and writing about it are two different things. What justice is there in me talking about myself and my problems when there is so much suffering in the world? What justice is there in me writing about anything but that which is most important?

There may not be any justice in it…Unfortunately, I am not skilled and I am not perfect and I am not that dedicated. There are people who devote their time and their lives to writing about only important issues in the world, and philsophies, and such…and I…I am not one of them.

Sometimes I dabble…Like we all do…But it’s easy to throw in your two cents, a lot harder to dedicate a dollar.

I don’t know if I even have a dollar.

My thoughts on the issue so far…I’m not knowledgeable enough on the topic to give my thoughts.

I don’t want to give my thoughts.

I’m in this blog to vent and run away from my problems.

Not contemplate serious issues.

But now I’ve already thrown out my thoughts on a serious issue and it seems hard to walk away from.

I believe in God. I pray for Paris. I want people to love and take care of people, and I want people to be safe and protected.

I want life and love to be given a chance.

Speaking of which, babies are cute, and also, they are tiny humans.

Fetuses may not be as cute, but they are still tiny humans.

Zygotes may not have terms of endearment attached to them, but again, they are their own little humans. Unless it’s like a sheep zygote, in which case it’s a tiny sheep. At any rate, a zygote is the cell formed when two gametes/sex cells meet, and has it’s own tiny set of DNA making it it’s own unique self which has never existed and will never exist again. It’s entirely unique.

Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Just because you don’t understand it, doesn’t mean it’s not important.

Just because they haven’t been born yet/don’t look like what you think a human should look like, doesn’t mean they aren’t valuable.

And there ends my post.

Love everyone, including the human zygotes.

 

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I will Pray for Paris.

I believe in a Creator of the universe who always existed, and being perfect, and loving so much, his love could not be contained and resulted in Creation coming to be as something outside of himself, created by his love.

I believe that this Creator, out of his supreme perfection, made the crown of this creation like himself, and gave human beings the capability to choose to love him, rather than compelling them to love him without choice, because real LOVE is an active choice of the will, to continuously strive for the good, and choose the good.

From these two religious beliefs spring the beliefs I have about life and how it should be lived, and what is required of me as an individual to remain true to my Creator and loving him. From the belief that we were created out of love comes the belief that we are created to love. From the belief that we must choose to love, comes the acceptance that sometimes people choose not to love, and the recognition that free will allows for both the beauty of choosing the right way, and the pain of choosing the wrong.

I have beliefs and I practice a religion. The more questions you ask me about my faith, the more I will attempt to explain the little parts of it and the reasoning behind it, the more I will try to explain how my love of God results in a love of my religion which only exists to show me how to best love my neighbor.

I suppose my love of neighbor can best be summed up as the following:

Treating my neighbor like they were created by the same love that created me and not harming them in any way.

And that is key to my religion. As part of my religion I pray, for myself and for my neighbor. I pray for the strength to love better, for guidance, and I pray for the world and that people can see the love of God in their lives and live it out more deeply.

Do not tell me that religion is the problem. Do not tell me that people hate each other because of religion, that without religion everything would be fine. Because yes, people use religion as an excuse for hatred, but more than that people use it as a way to love. I use it as a way to love.

And so I will pray. I will pray for the people who don’t believe that we were created out of love, who don’t believe that we are designed to love, and who don’t believe that love includes putting others before ourselves and not harming each other. For the people who use their beliefs as an excuse to hurt each other, for the people who believe that hurting each other somehow fulfills their beliefs. I will pray for Paris and I will pray for the world, and I will pray because I believe in the strength of prayers, and I believe in love.

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Tea date.

“How’s life?”

I’m freaked out that I’m gonna suddenly become a blind mute because of my bone disease that is super rare and I didn’t tell you about, but I probably shouldn’t be freaking out about because I’ve done pretty well so far, and I can’t remember anyone ever saying that such horrible scenarios were likely, but I stayed up til 1am looking up potential effects of my disease, and then I joined an online support group to talk to the 1 other person on the internet that I found with my condition, and like, I’m super stressed about that. Not to mention the burden of grad school and my friend with cancer….

“Oh it’s fine. How’s your life?”

—————–

Surprisingly, things didn’t go super badly after this brief, half truth I gave him in response to his question. We’re both introverts and so my lack of detailed response could have been viewed as simply that awkwardness that you still have when getting to know someone.

We spent the rest of our date (??? He paid for my Chai tea …does that make it a date?) staring at empty cups, each other, and the walls, and then speaking when sitting in silence lost its glamour.

We have the introvert thing down: You think a million thoughts, and then you choose the best one to say out loud, then you spend a good ten seconds hoping the other person will say something first.

After an immense amount of time hanging out in the coffee shop and attempting to converse, he drove me home and gave me a hug goodbye.

It’s going rather slowly…our conversations, our text messages, the rate at which we drank our drinks in the coffee shop, because if you’re not drinking something you have to be talking and that is just, so hard….but, it’s good.

I usually fall for people really fast and he’s kinda forcing me to think before I write five page poems about how obsessed I am with him. Like, he’s cute, he’s nice, he likes me, and I’m not obsessed. Things are just patiently taking their time. We’re developing a friendship. It’s good. Friendships help you talk to people more openly and tell them about things like…bone diseases…and your deepest fears. But there’s no reason to just, relay that part of yourself to someone on a first date. Or all of it.

Slow and steady wins the race, right?

I mean:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. – 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

So, I’m just making sure we got the first part down…There’s always time for the rest.

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The words I don’t know how to say.

Dear guy I went on that date with,

I forgot to tell you,

I have a bone disease.

Yeah…

If we get married there’s a 50% chance every kid we’d have would have it. Not that you’re even thinking that far, but I am.

Also, I’m still recovering from a surgery I had a couple years back, and I totally downplayed it after I accidentally brought it up at dinner. You asked me if I was completely fine and I think I said something along the words of “pretty much”.  To be honest, I don’t know how fine I am, and while the concept of going on four hour hikes with you sounds theoretically pleasant, the reality might consist in me falling over halfway through the first hour and crying while rocking back in forth in a fetal position.

That could be an exaggeration, but you seem to be fit and think that my slimness is a sign of my own fitness, but it’s merely a sign of the fact that I don’t know how to cook and most of my meals consists of salads and sandwiches.

Also, back on the bone disease topic, I don’t know how that impacts me in the long run. It’s kind of one of those “rare” sorts that hardly anybody has so they can’t really tell me much about, except that they can use it to explain why I break bones more easily than most people and why I’m already getting arthritis at the age of twenty-four.

So yeah. I guess it would have been more convenient for both of us if I had simply told you about this bone disease when we were on our date last weekend, but I kinda didn’t want to ruin everything right off the bat by immediately having you questioning my health. I think I am trying to convince you that I’m just like anybody else, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to do that. I mean, I am, I’m just also not.

And the concept of you ceasing to be interested in me upon finding this out kind of hurts. So I was probably also scared to tell you. Maybe you’re special and won’t care, but the experience of one guy not caring afterward was too much for me. Now I kind of protect the information until sharing it becomes absolutely necessary.

So, there it is.

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Poem: Text me.

Text me and say you love me.

Text me and say you care.

Text me and say you know that I have my imperfections and flaws, but you love my imperfections and flaws, and you just want me to be near.

Text me and say I’m funny.

Say I’m smart and kind and wise.

Tell me I’m pretty and gorgeous and beautiful, and you want to behold me with your eyes.

Text me and say that I’m perfect, not really, but perfect for you.

That with all my broken and sickness, you still want to be me and you.

Text me and write words of affection, of kindness and sweetness and love,

text me and tell me something,

because this nothing is not enough.

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