Lordy lord it’s been a while. It’s this thing of my laptop (The mid-2010 edition of the elite Grove Shitty Crappy Lappy freebie fleet, complete with useless touch pen, mysteriously pointless antenna thingamabob, and a missing P key) is on its deathbed. By which I mean most of the posts I have written in the past few months take forever to load, are interrupted by several petits morts of it making this whirring car engine noise, then a shotgun PEWWWW noise and suddenly dying. Let’s not even mention the recent virus it acquired or how I can’t let it rest on my lap without getting actual red burn marks.
No more. Now I type this on a glorious beautiful Chromebook. It is a little internet machine and nothing more. It cost less than an iPod. I am so happy. Its battery last 13 hours (aka 17.33 Gilmore Girls episodes, for those of you currently gorging as well.) (I’m on season 5 and what is the DEAL with Rory??? She is so selfish. Poor Marty. Poor Lane. Poor Logan. Do I dare say — poor Dean. Poor literally everyone. How does everyone worship her when she loves books more than people? I digress.)
So anyway. I’m in Tate Street Coffee with Julia avoiding finishing my taxes. Can you blame me, though? In 2014, I lived in 3 (sorta 4) different states, worked 4 different jobs…one of those jobs I worked, I lived in NJ, then NY, then NJ again. Simple government forms cannot possibly capture the complexity of last year. They need to design a special Quarter Life Crisis one for flighty freaks like myself. There would be one question: “how much money do you have?” You can check one of two boxes: “I AM A MISERLY TYCOON WHOSE WEALTH SHOULD BE DISTRIBUTED IN ORDER TO NOT RULE THE KNOWN WORLD” and “I AM 22 AND WILL GIVE YOU MONEY WHEN I’M A TYCOON, PINKIE PROMISE”. Boom I just solved bureaucracy. You’re welcome.
Other than taxes and viruses, I’ve had other excuses for being so internetually MIA. One being my job, which I very much enjoy. I’m there from 8:30-5 every day, and haven’t taken a vacation day since starting in January. So today, Good Friday, which is a PAID holiday, is kinda like Christmas. I’m storing up that vacation for ALL the weddings this summer. (4 so far, but I’m anticipating more.) I genuinely enjoy what I do there most of the time, which is more than 90% of entry-level jobs I could have had, so I’m thankful. The people I work with are delightful, talented, and nice to be stuck in a building with. Still, since my job is editing, writing, and working with words, which <em>is</em> life-giving, I find myself more apt to be creative by cooking than writing at the moment. More Artist’s Way residual memories of how being creative is work, and takes discipline, sacrifice. I’d much rather watch a movie than edit my story or write a new one.
Another reason is that I’m dating someone. (!) A man. A good man. Half of me wants to shouts from the tallest building in Greensboro — which isn’t very impressive, the tallest one is like 14 stories, but still — that I’m really lucky. It’s true. He’s an amazing friend and all-around wonderful person and spending time getting to know him has been a joy. The other half of me wants all of the nice things of dating, as in, a handsome man purchasing burgers for me and having a Netflix buddy, but none of the inconvenience of things not limited to but including: seeing some of my sin and selfishness exposed in places I could hide it before, the inevitability of Relationship Talks, not getting to live in a turtle shell whenever I want, realizing I am at times blunt, overgeneralizing, quick to judge, controlling, etc. So it’s very much a learning experience, one I sorely need. One that is humbling. For that, and him in my life, I’m really thankful.
In my perfectly imagined world — one where I am Pinterest Joanna, who has fantastic upper body strength and is always patient with children and has linear conversations — time would be a flexible, moldable material, one in which it would be no problem to work full-time and begin a relationship, but still maintain the intimacy of college friendships, continue pursuing new friends in Greensboro, stay connected with my family in San Francisco, thoughtfully write back to all the letters stacked on my desk, pursue hobbies, exercise, and volunteer. And do my laundry in a timely fashion. I’ll give you a moment to quietly chuckle as you reread that foolish sentence. Because it’s so not possible!
I occasionally see shadows of frustration and disappointment when I let a voicemail from someone dear to me linger in my inbox for a week…or two…sorry Kate. Sorry Elia. Sorry other people important to me. But time isn’t squishy. In this universe, it runs in a line. And the time I am given is short. Each day, week, month, feels shorter than the last. Or it at least has felt that way recently. I fear losing touch with people from high school and college. I fear failing. Of course, I think it’s my job to make everyone happy, and that lie is a factor, too. I know I’m not Disappointing anyone — you all have lives, after all, lives I am not the center of — but I am disappointed in myself, that ideal Pinterest self. The self I sometimes would rater be than be like Jesus.
Some good reminders from the Lord: 1. In heaven, there will be all the time I need to be exactly who I was created to be. One day, there will be complete peace in my heart, calm over those deep waters, nothing restless, no grasping at others for love, just peace. 2. I am being shaped to be more like Christ, not someone with great upper body strength. Perhaps in God’s goodness, part of his plan for drawing me to himself will involve becoming a professional and very sexy rock climber. I highly doubt it, though. Does that make God less good? Never.
Well. As per usual, I told somebody I’d meet up with them 15 minutes ago. So I’m going to go now. Now that I have this magic device, (WHICH has in the past 2 hours only used a tiny sliver of its battery…it’s like it runs on UNICORN DREAMS) you’ll be hearing more from me. I’m going to be bold and publish this without editing it first. Much love.