… you just have to call it a day.
That moment when you realize that afternoon classes are the worst #zzzzzzzzz
That moment when you realize you just had a perfect night.
I always seem to miss the anniversary of this blog by one day (Happy 3rd birthday to us!), which then reminds me that I haven’t written in here for quite some time (I guess that whole “Mini Moments” test in breaking procrastination failed slightly…). But that’s what New Year’s is for: for making copious amounts of resolutions and then failing to accomplish every single one within days of the new year hitting. But, well, maybe this year will be the year. All it takes is a bit of motivation, organization, and time management to make a resolution stick…
Hold on. What am I saying? That’s why I always seem to fail with resolutions: motivation, organization, and time management are not usually my strong suits. I feel like recognizing my shortcomings, however, is a step in the right direction, isn’t it? Baby steps, my dear Watson, baby steps.
And yet… I just went back and reread last year’s New Year’s Eve post and you know, I feel like those things that I hoped to accomplish during 2014 really did come true. For the most part my family, friends and I have been in good health, and I have had my share of blessed experiences that have, I believe, helped me continue to grow into a woman I love and am proud of.
Perhaps that’s what I need to remember for this year too, that it’s enough to take each day as it comes and seek the little moments that make the bigger picture fantastic. Indeed, I have already begun to speak the mantra “One Day at a Time” several times a day. It really does help put things into perspective and take the pressure off ‘future-thinking’ (which I do a lot).
So, with that in mind, I take my leave. The only thing left to say, it seems, is I wish you all God’s blessings for the last remaining hours of 2014 and the beginning of 2015!
P.s. I totally will start the “Mini Moments” thing… Promise!
It’s a brand new segment! Well, it’s not that new, since I’ve been thinking about creating this segment for about a year. The new part is valid, though, because I’m actually doing it. Near the end of my stay in Dublin, I found myself being caught up in what I have come to call “Mini Moments,” i.e. those moments that you would share on Twitter or Facebook and have a number of people knowing exactly how you felt in that moment. I began writing them down while I was at work (very productive, I know) and now I find I want to share them, plus all the moments that I find myself experiencing every day. I’m hoping this will be an exercise to get me writing again, just a little bit every day (though I actually am writing quite a lot; studying theology does that to a person).
Okay, and it’s also an exercise in procrastination…
*Cracks knuckles* Back to work!
“We’re so excited to have you here!”
“Yes, it’s always great to have more lay women here with us.”
I am a lay woman. That is my label. I’ve never really thought about it before, but as of yesterday I’ve been called that twice. Not only that, but I’ve been heartily welcomed into my Eastern Christian Theological classes because of that. Not because of my personality, or my obvious thirst for knowledge and a deepening of my faith, but because of my gender and vocational orientation.*
This would never happen to a man. There is no such thing as “Men’s Studies.” Whether due to historical tradition or patriarchal hierarchies, a man** is always the default setting, the norm, and anything outside that (i.e. a woman) is abnormal and therefore solicited. In this case, I am praised for having chosen to study a subject that, like many, is chalk-full of the male perspective, no doubt so I can chime in with my (supposedly) opposite, female perspective.
This begs the question, “What if my views aren’t any different from a man’s?” Does that all of a sudden make my opinion any less female and relevant? Of course not! Because my opinion comes from me, it is automatically a female perspective (see Always’ “#LikeAGirl” video to see what I mean).
That seems like a lot of pressure, to be welcomed into an area of study because of one’s gender and vocational orientation, almost as if one is a mythical creature. Because the truth is, I am just like any man, lay or otherwise, who comes to study the same subject. We all come because of an itch, of that thirst to know more, to have a deeper understanding of things we can never fully know. Yes, the product of our studies may be different, but our faith and scholastic journeys are the same. We’re all going to the same place, whether we’re female, male, religious, or lay. So why does the distinction need to be made here and now if in the end it doesn’t really matter?
Food for thought. Your turn.
*Not true for all of my classes, but I’m simply making a point.
**If I’m being completely accurate, I should say a white, straight man is the default setting, but since I’m only discussing gender, I thought I’d stick just with men in general.
Well, I’ve done it: I’ve moved to Ottawa. And that’s really all I have to say about that because right now I’m in this place of calm that I really don’t care for. Not calm, as in I feel calm, but calm as in being smack dab in the middle of stillness; of not moving; of stagnant, stifling serenity. I’m simply… waiting, and I hate waiting. What am I waiting for? I’m waiting for life to begin again and that means waiting for school to start. I mean, it’s true that I’ve been doing things and seeing people almost from the moment I got here, but I don’t feel like I’ve done anything yet and that’s what’s bothering me. I know, I know, I’ve only been here 4 days, but knowing that doesn’t change the fact that I feel stuck.
Yes, stuck is the word I’m going to stick with right now, the epitome of feeling like you’re wading through peanut butter. No, even the term ‘wading’ is far too mobile. More like… standing stoically. The thing about standing stoically in peanut butter is that on the outside you seem perfectly okay, calm, serene, and though people may notice you’re in peanut butter, you yourself look fine, so they shrug and move on. However, on the inside you’re screaming, wanting to move, to stop being a statue, to break those frozen limbs because even if your arms are broken, at least they’d be swaying. Alas, it’s your own, damn fault the stoic statue is you and that you fell in the peanut butter in the first place because you saw the sign, the one that says, “Caution: Peanut Butter Straight Ahead.” Or maybe people keep saying you saw it and you start to believe that they’re right even though you’re sure you don’t know how you ended up here in the first place.
Yes, I’ve decided to be a sad, cynical girl this evening, mostly because I’m not tired yet and need to do something, anything to feel like I’m getting something done. Of course, I’m not doing anything productive at all like working on my résumé or writing my book or practising for my audition (although I have been doing a lot of that) or embroidering or stretching or doing the dishes. Nope, all that is far too much work, so I just spiral further and further down the snake tail, winding up at number 4 when I was at 52 previously.
I will say one thing: I’m loving my imagery right now.
That is all.