RAWR!!

I'm mad today. I'm mad in a eat-all-the-brownies kind of way. Like- destroy the brownies! Brownies must die! crush and mascerate all the brownie bits!

I even drank some beer that I didn't really like. Just to hurt the beer- I'm drinking you, and I don't even like you!

I suppose by doing something, like eating and drinking things that I don't really want, is my way of acting out against doing nothing. Which kind of makes sense, because it's a lot of doing nothing, and some of doing something that has brought me to this place of frustrated anger.

I'm mad at mediocrity. I'm mad at my own complacency, and I'm mad that when people do stand up for injustice, abuse and inequality, they get handed a shit sandwich and a boot in their backside.

It must be why most of us settle for a mediocre life. It takes a lot of energy to disagree with popular opinion, or to speak up for someone who can in no way pay you back or make you look good. It also takes energy to constantly dig boots out of your own rear end.

I hear that they are killing each other in Sudan again. Using a radio station to propogate hate over the air waves. Killing the women and children who were born in the "wrong" tribe. Sound like Rwanda all over again? That's what I thought too. No one cared then either, Rwanda doesn't have oil for us. Who cares.

Closer to home, there's some tension at the thrift shop about the bad people who steal things. The people who clearly don't know the difference between right and wrong. Or worse yet- they know the difference and MCC is being taken advantage of! *gasp* So while the shops which are filled to overflowing with donated items are sending thousands of dollars to charity work, bringing relief around the world,(waaaaay out THERE somewhere...) they could be sending thousands plus maybe a hundred more. If only we could straighten out the thieves! And don't bother your pretty little head with questions that maybe those bad people are mentally ill, or desperate, or just teensey weesey petty thieves who would greatly benefit from love and joy instead of suspicion and finger pointing?

 

I'm judging them for judging. I'm very judgemental of judgemental types.

I'm running low on brownies, but let's talk about the "little guy" who speaks up at his or her job about inequality. What if she speaks up for someone who can't do a thing for her? Big Boots. That's what. For doing the right thing, for taking that narrow road, for being that crazy Samaritan.

I have a different view on faith now than what I've had before. This gives me hope, and simultaneously makes me fear a bunch of boot-ectomies that might be in my future.

I'm afraid that if I actually say that I follow Jesus, I should probably doing some brave stuff that might stir some shit pots and might not earn me friends and fans. Stuff that might make mobs want to kill me. Yikes.

What's particularly scary is that I'm more afraid than ever of good church ladies. I'm practically phobic of them. Do they ever say bad words? Want to hurt their children? Hate their job? Of course they do. But I don't think they're allowed to say so. I think they'd have to burn their pew or hang their front door Easter wreath upside down on the back door for penance. I just can't live like that, and I have to admit some snobbery over the same.

So as I apparently distance myself from church lady status, I come face to face with my own hypocrisy.

Dang.

ooooh.. Owie.

And- dang!

I should probably have pinned something about not picking away at people's splinters when I'm carrying a giant log around, but I didn't. Go ahead and alert the mobs.

So, to actually follow through on convictions means a lot of boots, a broken heart, a bunch of tears, and probably a whole bunch of so mad I have to eat the brownies now type behavior.

(Yes. I pin a lot of things on Pinterest. a lot.)

It's a great quote. I didn't write it. Mine would go more like: (In a whiny voice)--

I DON'T WAAAANT TO DIE AN UNLOVED LIFE.. BUT WHAT IF I FALL OR CATCH ON FIRE??

I ALWAYS PLAN TO INHABIT MY DAYS. TO FULLY BE WHEREVER I AM. BUT SOMETIMES WHERE I AM IS SO UNBEARABLY BORING AND TEDIOUS THAT I GIVE MY LIFE TO PINTEREST, JUST TO AVOID PUNCHING AGGRESSIVE HOLES INTO THE DRYWALL.

I DOUBT THIS WILL OPEN ME, SO I AGAIN RESOLVE TO INHABIT MY DAYS MORE FULLY.

HOW LOVELY IT SOUNDS TO BE LESS AFRAID, MORE ACCESSIBLE, TO LIVE MY HEART AS A WING, A TORCH, A PROMISE.

I SUSPECT THAT LIVING LIFE AS I PROFESS TO BELIEVE MEANS TO RISK LOSING MY SIGNIFICANCE. THATS A REALLY BIG DEAL.

BUT MOSTLY I'M AFRAID AND KIND OF MEDIOCRE.

 

If I were an awesome church lady, I could wrap this up. Maybe talk about goals or small groups or getting up earlier to pray. But, no can do. I'm thinking more about the Jesus who stirred so many pots that people wanted him dead, and that's some serious food for thought. Sure, there are still brownies, but that's not exactly what I mean.

Today's anger was brought to you by little guy nerve. Little guys who spoke up, got their ass kicked, and who might suffer more agony than ecstacy in their practise of speaking up for what's right. This kind of courage has got me thinking and hoping for more nerve of my own. Little guy nerve that says- use your voice! Stick up for the underdog! Be the crazy radical who thinks its more important to love the thieves than teach them right from wrong!

(But can't I change the judgers and the ass-kickers? PLeeeeze?)

 

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Blogging. Goodness knows I've tried.

 

Two posts are stuck in draft.

I have much to share.

But by the time the children leave and supper is swept up and evening obligations are met, my brain has turned to sludge.

And that's disappointing, because in the mornings, I have words forming into sentences, and my fingers itch to write, but there are other obligations.

The kinds of obligations that drain me of any type of coherence.

If I had the time, I would consider channelling that energy into other creative ventures. But if I had time for crafts (which I hate), I would surely have time to write.

So all that's really left by the end of all that, are the daily affirmations,

And hope for tomorrow.

Because goodness knows I've tried.

 

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Mexico. Really.

 

All you world-wise, world travelling show-offy worldly people have seen all this before. You're over there, all *yawn* been-to-Mexico-a-zillion-times, I'm-sooooo-resort-y, we-always-have-guacamole-at-lunch.

 

And I'm over here- HOLY CRAP WE'RE GOING TO MEXICO!!

Or, rather, we've been to Mexico. We can join your special clubs now.

The patio doors stayed open all night for our first sleep. There was green stuff! And ocean wind! And humidity! (remember humidity? I think I'd forgotten). And it was so. not. cold.

Plus pretty purple and pink accents to the green stuff.

I may have wept.

Even before I saw the make-your-own Mimosa section at the breakfast buffet.

And then it was really just a question of which bikini- black? or blue?

And which book? (I do believe I packed eight.....)

Brian had the courage and wherewithall to breathe underwater and search for transparent Mexican fish.

While I read my stories.

In my blue bikini.

 

At times it was prudent to pause for refreshments.

Look around for a bit.

Meet the locals.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Maybe change it up a little, somewhere around Tuesday? mid-morning?

Repeat.

So good.

So very, very good.

Then, having grown accustomed to our bellies sated, we found ourselves at the end of our trip, and hungry at the Cancun airport.

With so much to celebrate.

Not the least of it being the apparent arrival of spring in Manitoba.

Our boy Micah having turned sixteen in our absence.

And our second daughter Jane about to become an adult, right after our return.

 

And did I mention the honeymoon?

Crummy picture, awesome time.

There's nothing quite like a honeymoon,

after the honeymoon has been over

for twenty some years.

In Mexico. Really.

 

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