No Perfect Man

I feel like I need a template for my first paragraph, repasted with every new post, apologizing for my absence and promising to never do it again. While I know I can't make that promise, I always do have so many thoughts and things I want to say but the day is too short and entire months get away from me. I did hear about a "31 Days" challenge to blog about the same topic every day for the month of October. I have every intention of participating, covering the topic of balance.

Of course, I didn't just come back to post that and be on my merry way. I have something on my mind, and it seemed like something worth sharing so, fresh from my overactive mind, here goes.

There is no such thing as a perfect man.

There, I said it.

There's no such thing as a perfect woman either, but that's not the point I am trying to make. I've had a mostly good but mildly rough summer with my own relationship, stemming from a huge miscommunication leading into a rather unpleasant but necessary discussion. We are good now, mending at the expected pace, but it definitely planted a seed of uncertainty in my head that is hard to shake. My biggest issue is trusting my own reading and instincts of the situation without be "that girl" who overanalyzes and perseverates.

I've thought about small flaws that irk me or inaction that frustrates me. There is a constant grumpy old troll sitting in the back of my mind, reminding me of these insecurities and forcing me to revisit - over and over again - debates that I've already been over. And for a while, I thought I was alone. Everyone else seemed so happy and sure in their paths and their decisions.

One of my very best friends got engaged a couple weeks ago. It really is the sweetest love story of souls coming together and living for the glory of God. Their engagement was so happy and lovely, and we've been giddy about it around the apartment every since.

I'm completely thrilled for her, but it of course drug back up my uncertainties and discontentedness. I was certain that she'd found "the one" and was jealous of her surety.

Over the last few days though, I've come to realize no relationship is perfect. She has complaints about her fiancé and I have complains about my boyfriend. My sister has concerns about her relationship, and another friend is recovering from a heartbreak. Still another is in the beginning throes of a relationship and even through the excitement there are areas that are left wanting.

It's a realization I've always known, but what hit me most was this. There are no perfect men... Except one. The One who made us. The Son who saved the world. There will be no man who can live up to the Man. Ultimately, relationships, in spite of the pitfalls and missing pieces, are the closest we can get to God, because a solid relationship is the union of the halves of God - the two pieces created in His image.

What's important is forgiving and fighting for the relationships because even with the burdens and trials of working together, giving up is far worse. We can't expect the fairytale man or perfect hero because there is not such thing. But that doesn't mean that another person cannot be the perfect complement that you need in order to be your best self. Most important is the expression gratitude for the partner God has placed in your life, regardless of flaws, because they are a child of God, made in his image, with a purpose far greater than your single solitary relationship can imagine.

Why I Like Twitter

So I have figured out why I liked Twitter.

Deep down - regardless of my major or internship position or career goals - I am a writer. When I experience something, my first thought is how I can tell the world about it. How can I portray a rich, incredible moment in something as literally black and white as words? I love the challenge, and I always hope to find the right way of saying something so that it strikes a chord with whoever may be reading.

But you see, these moments always seem to occur at the most inconvenient times. I'm not just talking about the ones when I'm in the shower or driving - where I literally can't record my thoughts. I'm also talking about when I'm sitting in a meeting or a class, standing in the grocery store check out line, out to coffee with a friend. That's where Twitter comes in. In 140 characters I can at least wrangle my sentiment into something legible and sharable. Sometimes it results in a gross oversimplification of a situation, but sometimes it is a beautiful challenge of finding just the right, succinct words to get my point across. It allows me to be a writer (albeit limited).

But I do love writing - in the longer form sense. And in that way, I hope to write more. Both here and for my technology blog. So wish me luck. And keep me honest!

Book Review: Major Pettigrew's Last Stand

I really wish I could read more often and this summer would like to read at least 5 novels. I've finished two and started a third, so I'd say I'm on track.

 

The one I read first, Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson, was absolutely delightful. I don't even remember where I stumbled upon the recommendation - it may have been a blog, Pinterest, or simply Amazon. Either way, I'm glad I did. I would recommend the book highly to just about anyone.

 

As a quick summary, the novel follows the title character, Major Pettigrew, through his journeys as an old man. It felt somewhat of a coming of age story, but at a very different point in life. He is a stand-up, respectable, thoughtful old man with the rich traditions and standards of the British army. He lives in an adorable small town in the English countryside where he lives a proper and amiable life after his wife and brother have passed away. The Major must come to terms with what he considers to be his son's appalling lack of manners, civility, and respect for tradition. He also reaches a point that he must find within himself his own values and how they fit into a world that is so different from when he first transitioned to adulthood. Charming and sagacious, Major Pettigrew might be one of my new favorite literary characters. He is friendly, but unapologetic, in a world of people-pleasers with noodles for backbones. He is also an introvert, not needing a whole lot and thoroughly enjoying his books, tea, and view of the countryside. What I really like though, is the fact that he can be both traditional and poised without being cynical or bigoted. Throughout the book, he has moments of heart-wrenching frustration at the world, and in other moments, clarity about what has changed and how he must follow suit. There was so much chance of the Major coming off as crotchety and begrudging, but he is open-minded and logical in a way that compliments his commitment to what he knows from his earlier years. His outlook is  infectious and endearing - I could listen to his commentary on life for many more precious pages than are contained in this novel.

 

I would love to share a few of my favorite quotations from the book. Simonson writes with a tone of simple and observant truth. She finds a way to make comments about people without making judgments, observations about shortcomings without being condescending. It's thoughtful and meaningful without being heavy. She truly is talented.

 

Part of what makes the Major charming is his internal observations of others. A few of my favorites are:

 

"The Major marveled anew at the way so many people were willing to spend time and energy on the adverse judgment of others." (page 155). This theme runs throughout the book in a powerful, powerful way.

 

"Such an awful fragility of love, he thought, that plans are made and broken and remade in these gaps between rational behavior" (page 291). I believe Shakespeare would approve of this line.

 

"It was all unfamiliar and therefore very taxing" (page 305). From one introvert to another, I hear you, Major!

 

Just as (if not more) powerful that these internal thoughts are the Major's interactions with other characters. He has a few strong and meaningful relationships, making up the fabric of the story, as he finds out more and more about cultural and generational gaps and how his mindset is not always popular or fitting - with either crowd.

 

In a scene when Major Pettigrew is interacting with a young, single mother who has a tough skin and abrasive (yet somehow endearing) demeanor, they have a revealing conversation about the generational gap regarding respect (among other things). At one point, the Major says,

"…in my own case, I believe there is a great deal too much mutual  confession going on today, as if sharing one's  problems somehow makes them go away. All it really does, of course, is increase the number of people who have to worry about a particular issue… Personally, I have never sought to burden other people with my life history and I have no intention of meddling in theirs."

Noreen counters with, "But you're making judgments about people all the time - and if you don't know the whole story -" The Major interrupts with,

"My dear young woman, we are complete strangers, are we not? Of course we will make shallow and quite possibly erroneous judgments about each other… But we have no right to demand more of each other do we? I'm sure your life is very complicated, but I'm equally sure that I have no incentive to give it any thought and you have no right to demand it of me."

She responds to this by saying, "I think everyone has the right to be shown respect." The Major shakes his head and replies, "Ah well, there you go. Young people are always demanding respect instead of trying to earn it. In my day, respect was something to strive for. Something to be given, not taken." (page 150).

 

The scenes when the Major interacts with his son can be the most difficult in the novel. Their relationship is stilted and the Major struggles to see Roger's approach to life as admirable. At one point, he is attempting to scold his son for his poor judge of character in business partners and Roger cheekily counters by saying, "Oh, it's simple pragmatism, Dad. It's called the real world. If we refused to do business with the morally questionable, the deal volume would drop in half and the good guys like us would end up poor. Then where would we all be?" To which the Major suggests, "On a nice spit of land known as the moral high ground?" (page 175).

 

There are light moments too, where the Major's outlook brings such logical and  clear answers to questions that you can't help but smile. In response to a comment on relationships, the Major states, "The human race is all the same when it comes to romantic relations. A startling absence of impulse control combined with complete myopia" (page 181). Well said, Major, well said.

 

The Major's conversation topics vary impressively, and touch all the corners of the reader's heart and thoughts. At one point in the story, he is with a new friend Mrs. Ali. Looking out over the ocean from the tops of magnificent cliffs of England, he says, "… there is something about the edge of the land that does make one feel closer to God. A sobering sense of one's own smallness, I think" (page 193).

 

Occasionally, the Major made me smile with deprecating, hysterical truths: "… Philosophical rigidity is usually combined with a complete lack of education or real-world experience, and is often augmented with strange haircuts and an aversion to bathing." He isn't wrong, and never means it in a rude way. I laughed out loud more than once while reading this book.

 

Something about the Major that makes him so likeable is that he doesn't remove himself from reproach. In a conversation with his friend Grace he notes, "It's so much easier to tell other people how to do their job than fix one's own shortcomings, isn't it?" (page 288).

 

I have many more highlighted passages, but I'll end on one of the best. The Major - exasperated, desperate, and confused - goes off on Roger about what he considers to be love. In a very powerful turning point he says,

"Unlike you, who must do a cost-benefit analysis of every human interaction, I have no idea what I hope to accomplish. I only know that I must try to see her. That's what love is about, Roger. It's when a woman drives all lucid thought from your head; when you are unable to contrive romantic stratagems, and the usual manipulations fail you; when all your carefully laid plans have no meaning and all you can do is stand mute in her presence. You hope she takes pity on you and drops a few words of kindness into the vacuum of your mind" (page 298).

 

While that collection of quotation covers a lot of ground, I cannot communicate the simple power and endearing nature of this novel without typing out the entire book. I highly recommend it. It has a place in my top five books, and I hope to enjoy it again someday.

Soaking It In

Tonight we watched the live broadcast of a man crossing the Grand Canyon on a wire, without tether or rope. He'd practiced and prepared, but the adrenaline in that moment had to be utterly terrifying. He was on the rope for just under 20 minutes, completing the feat with a running finish. But on the wire, whilst being blown about by a fickle sirocco, he had an earbud in, connected to his father who was talking him through the walk. Add onto that the fact that the man had a constant stream of heavenly praise flowing from his mouth, praising Jesus and asking for help, it was quite a site to behold. He thanked God for the beautiful, stunning creation of the Grand Canyon, even as it was beneath him and his sure death should his footing falter. Moments like that absolutely inspire me. I love it when we can see the world around us as God's thoughtful creation, with beauty abounding.

Once the broadcast was over, I glanced out the window. What do you know, there had to be 20+ fireflies dancing around the backyard and garden in the late dusk light. I was entranced, and sat outside on the patio just watching the bobbing lights, trying to track individual flights and spot the next flash. I am completely convinced that there will be fireflies in heaven. Seeing those little critters brought on a wave of amazement and gratitude for God and our incredible surroundings here on Earth. I've had the feeling before, and yet somehow, it always takes me off guard. Things like the Grand Canyon or the Pacific Ocean are usually apt to stir some emotional response and urge to say thank you to the Creator of it all. But little things, like the fireflies, evoke a somehow even stronger reaction of praise. God didn't only think about the grand things, but He thought about every detail. The spark and serendipity of the fireflies' dance brought a smile to my face and joy to my heart in a way that only God could put there. I was filled to the brim - my cup is running over.

I think it is so important that we notice these small things. Not in a way that neglects the true Majesty of it all, but in a way that notices every single thread and stitch as a beautiful and creative masterpiece in and of itself. Like a large, ornate rug, every piece is essential to creating the larger splendor. I love lists of "Things that Make Me Happy" - like Stephanie May's "Loveliest Things" series in her blog. It's a reminder that God is so grand and so good, not only because of the huge (and important!) things, but also because He is so thorough and thoughtful. The fireflies were a lovely reminder. In that moment, I simply couldn't soak in the beauty fast enough. I wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever. I guess that is kind of the idea: stirring up a yearning that cannot be fulfilled here, but with a beauty so delightful that the specks and sparks of light just leaving you reaching for more, not dejected by it's temporary unattainability.

My goodness, God is amazing.

Hippie Dreams

Today, I got my hair done. It happens about twice a year (about a third as often as it ought to) and it always an indulgent pleasure. A chance to change things up and pamper myself. I went to a new shop, called The Head Shop, which is located beneath my dad's new office. It's in an offbeat part of Kansas City and it absolutely adorable. It is vintage and funky and doesn't feel anything like a traditional hair parlor. The walls are plastered and painted, the ceiling is punched tin, the stations are old vanity desks, and the owner is a character. While she did my hair, we had a pleasant and uninhibited conversation, all the while I was admiring her myriad of tattoos and her giant, glamorous poof of an up-do. She told me about her back story and all the grand adventures and forks in her road. Then she told me about her ultimate dream: to live in a self-sufficient, repurposed school bus in the middle of an avocado farm. It was so specific, but I could see it. With her tattooed and pierced husband and their already-developing-dreadlocks three-year-old daughter. The image was absolutely quixotic.

Ok - backtrack to yesterday. I drove down to Branson in hopes of seeing Emily before she left for summer school at Ole Miss. To make a long story short, my car broke and we had to leave it and she had to drive me back to Kansas City. Not ideal for her, but it was lovely to have the whole family in one place for a night.

On the drive back up, she played me some new music (my sister is a total music hipster even if she doesn't want to admit it). One song, "Gang of Rhythm" by Walk Off the Earth has been stuck in my head ever since. This is where it ties back into the avocado farm. The song is folksy and wonderful and absolutely full of life. I have listened to it at least three times since Em played it for me. It brought to mind bonfires, dancing around in long skirts and loose hair, singing at the top of my lungs, soaking up life and friends and the beautiful, beautiful world. That is my hippie dream. No avocado farm or planet-saving school bus. Just me, barefoot next to a bonfire, singing soulful folk music without the slightest consideration to the fact that my voice is far from perfect. It sounds awfully free-spirited for me, I know, which is why it will forever remain a dream unrealized, but it's a nice image to dwell on - to pretend.

I don't think there is anything wrong with having hippie dreams. And sometimes, I consider just running away and doing just that. Life stops me, which I find amusingly ironic, since my hippie dream is so full of life, but you get the gist. But it nice to have something to dwell in. A small possibility. Emily Dickinson would be so proud.

Counting Down

The end of the year could not come fast enough. I know I know, I shouldn't wish the time away. Ithaca is finally in its "gorges" phase, elegant flowering trees with sunshine and good smells around. But quite frankly, I am ready to go home. If I could spend my days wandering campus, taking pictures of flowers and laying in the grass looking at the sky, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But unfortunately, that's not quite what my last few weeks promise. My days are planned nearly to the minute from 6 AM until midnight or 1 AM and it still manages to feel rushed.

I have found, that while sometime I complain about the long walks across campus taking up value time, my "commutes" are my best "me" time. I love walking across campus during springtime. I get to think, draft blogs, call home... If my plan pans out as I have it now, I will be spending next summer here, and with a prelude like this, I am actually quite excited.

What is making me so excited to go home is the people here. Don't get me wrong, there are some wonderful people and friends who I get to interact with regularly. But there are also the people I could seriously use a break from. Even people I don't know who email rude things to the Service Desk where I work. Tangential PSA: when you email for help, it goes to a real person. Email etiquette baffles me sometimes: people who don't sign their name, say hello, and are painfully abrupt or curt with their message. But that's beside the point. I am so ready to be home, with my family, in the slow-moving, routine splendor of summertime.

Countdown to May 17...

Those Silly Little Metaphors That Make the Big Differences

I'm a sucker for clichés and metaphors and "symbolic moments." Some people find them silly; they roll their eyes because they don't see the beauty and find their joy and hope in other ways. But for me, finding little things coincides with moments when I feel closest to God. I feel like it's His pat on my back, a quick shoulder squeeze, an acknowledgement that we've made it through whatever "trench" I found myself swimming through.

Right now, sitting in Libe café after an incredibly taxing 48+ hours, I am feeling at peace, if for only for the moment. And the window facing The Slope is covered in raindrops and the setting sun is streaming in. It's beautiful. It feels like a nod and a deep breath and a helping hand all at once. And Florence just came on my iPod: "It's hard to dance with the devil on your back, so shake him off! It's always darkest before the dawn." The finishing touch.

I'm never going to have all the answers. I am always going to fall short and am always going to be wrestling with something. But these moments - the sun streaming through the raindrops - bring hope.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.