I see no need for an introduction to this post since the title pretty much speaks for itself. I write this from a place of frustration and since I’m not one to vent to anybody (since I find it creates no real solutions and it ruins someone else’s day), I’ve decided to write this and see if it gets some of the angst off my shoulders, at least for a moment.
- Unsolicited advice. A woman I’ve known my whole life casually asked what I’d like to go into, and when I told her I’d like to be an editor, she proceeded to inform me that in order to do this, I’d first have to prostitute myself to the whims of the mainstream media, and since print is “soon to be obsolete”, I’d be writing for a “cheesy, online forum”. Something about my openness and “free-spirited”* nature seems to lead some to assume they have say in how I choose to live. I accept bits of wisdom, but to be clear, no matter how long you’ve known me, the path I’m on doesn’t alter based on the opinions of others, and if God has intended on my writing a column, driving a bulldozer or creating canvases out of bodies, I’m damn well going to do it, whether or not it’s something you see fit.
- Being asked if I’m “okay” if I’m not crying, bleeding or showing signs of a stroke.
- Arrogance.
- Pretentiousness.
- Condescension.
- Those who are a little too familiar.
- Those who victimize themselves and assume the world is out to get them.
- Those who use their intelligence in order to decimate someone else’s confidence.
- Those who believe you are limited to their opinion of you (an addition to the first on this list).
- Oil paint’s resilient effect on hands. No amount of turpentine can help you, you simply must wait until you’ve made blood-colored fingerprints on nearby walls or dishwashers, which can only be removed with more turpentine.
- I’m out of turpentine.
- Conversations with those who love nothing more than a debate.
- Tomatoes.
- Myself, quite often.
- The gluttony that pulsates through this society.
- Those who attempt to show you what exactly authentic worship should look like. Authentic worship, dear friends, is intimacy with the Holy Spirit in a way that brings you outside of yourself and transcends past the expectations of others, not window-washing movements you participate in to show you’re more connected with the Spirit than the next guy.
- My authenticity, at times. It’s ironic, about a month ago, I said in one of these posts, “How I’d love to be authentic”, yet now, I find myself opening up left and right, attempting to erase my pretenses, and then an aching occurs; I feel raw and vulnerable, and it’s frightening. I’ve prayed multiple times this week that I’d learn to distance myself and maintain a facade of privacy. As you can see, this prayer has gone unanswered, and the wearing-my-heart-on-my-sleeve (I know that phrase is an utterly overused cliché, and I’m sorry for burdening you with it, but I’m not in an altogether too creative mood, so you’ll have to forgive me) continues.
- The romanticized way we see romance.
- The way I still crave approval of certain people whom I have sworn I’d not let affect me.
- Flip-flops.
This post feels dreadfully jaded and I’m sorry it wasn’t written in my usual somewhat-warm, somewhat-hopeful tone. It feels right to have one dire post amidst all the fluff and warm fuzzies.
* I say this in quotation marks because I am called free-spirit too often for my taste, a label thrown about that amused me initially but has since grown stale.
Observations of an Oddball 