Burned (By Stupidity)

At long last, a day at the lake. Just what I had been wishing for!

For 5 hours, I swam and played with my nieces and a friend. Five hours of sunshine, water, and relaxation. It didn't occur to me that I should put some suntan lotion on. I don't know why, since I ALWAYS wear it when I'm outside. Even when someone told me I was looking "pink", even then I didn't whip out my bottle of Hawaiian Tropic. Nor did it cross my mind that two of the medications I take say to "avoid prolonged sun exposure." Oops.

Several times, I swam out as far as I could go without being hit by a speed boat. No one goes out that far, the water is deep, and it's fairly quiet, I like to swim out there and just float on my back. No balls being thrown over your head, no rocks to step on, no 10-year-olds wanting to cling to you because they can't touch the bottom. While I was out there, I realized I had a pounding headache and an upset stomach. I blamed it on sea sickness and slowly swam into shore.

Once I reached land, I peeked into my bathing suit top to find out what was itching me. I was covered in sand, sludge, and green algae that looked like fur. Disgusted and done with swimming for the day, I went to the showers, which are public, so I had to lean forward and let the freezing cold water splash down the front of me. I went into the locker room to change and that's when I realized it wasn't sea sickness that was bothering me. I was burnt to a crisp.

I saw that my entire body was lobster red, and realized I could reach around to take my suit off. Disrobing was a lengthy process, complete with ouches and AUGHS!!! I came home and basically coated myself from head to toe with aloe gel, then took 4 ibuprofen. I then took an excruciating REAL shower.

I never get simple sunburns. At the Creation festival in 1997, I got sun poisoning which required an ER visit, several days spent in bed, and sitting in ice. Three years ago I got so burned while visiting Atlantic City, I had chills and flu-like symptoms the whole way home, and then my shoulders turned into giant orange blisters. At the time, I hadn't had my breast reduction surgery yet, and I couldn't wear a bra because of the blisters. I could possibly get away with going to a job bra-less now, but definitely not then. As a result, I missed almost a week or work.

I suspect I will make some dermatologist very wealthy one day. Pin It

Tired

Today is the day I try to figure out who is lying to me. I'm going to look over my notes and figure it out. I'm praying God will show me who is in the right, and who is in the wrong, so I can stand with the right people. If I need to apologize, I'll apologize. I just want to know.

I'm sick of being used. I'm going to define the word "family" once and for all... I hope... with God's help. Pin It

Words of Advice

If you're a businessperson... don't be rude to the person writing an article about you. Don't ever make writers angry. Especially if they're freelance, like I am. It's a great way to get bad publicity.

Enough said. Pin It

You Just Never Know

I wish I could elaborate, but I can't. Still, this is my blog, so I'm going to vent here.

There is a good chance that *I* am the fool. And, if I am, it changes everything. It changes it drastically. It changes it in a life-will-never-be-the-same-again kind of way.

I don't want to be wrong.

But if I am... I'll have to eat this sneaker.

Last night, I prayed for guidance and wisdom... for God to effectively open my eyes to the truth. This morning, I opened my Bible to read it for the first time in far too long. Leviticus 6.

Funny how even when God answers you directly, you spend the next few hours trying to dismiss it away. Pin It

A Long Walk Away, A Short Walk Back

Faith. It's an interesting thing. It's something I have struggled with all my life. I "got saved" when I was 13 but have battled God because of things I've gone through in my life, and things I've seen, and not being able to understand why God allows certain stuff to happen.

For the past 6 months or so, I've been walking away. Maybe it was depression, I don't know. I've just done my own thing and left God in the shadows. I've always felt like I didn't "fit in" with other believers. I have always said I just can't hack it as a Christian. I'm too this and not enough that. I guess at some point in the past year, I decided life would be easier for me if I just... left. It wasn't that I stopped believing in God, I just had myself convinced that I was not good enough of a person to live a Christian life.

Now, I didn't go out and do terrible things. I didn't become a drug addict, I didn't cheat on my spouse, I didn't start playing with Ouija boards, I didn't rob anyone. I suppose my worst crime was just believing the lie that I'm too defective, and that God wasn't big enough to fix my defect. I have always had a hard time putting anything in God's hands, for fear that He would disappoint me.

In some ways, I was right. It was a lot easier not injecting God into everything. It allowed me to be sarcastic and obnoxious, and it allowed me to let my warped sense of humor come out and take over. I was surprised to discover how miserable I was, though. I may have my issues, but ultimately I still have a heart for God. So, I guess you could say, I've come home.

I have questions.
How do you live as a Christian? That's the biggie. I'm not the type to hand out Bible tracts and preach at people. I have no problem talking about Jesus and about my faith, but I don't want to assault people, either. There's a time and a place and a way for everything.

My husband's family has come apart at the seams. Well, actually, it's more like a giant firecracker went off and now there's just little cardboard bits and smoke left behind. I said a number of hateful things and made a number of judgment calls I shouldn't have. They, in turn, have done the same. Got into a huge argument with one of my husband's family members last night that left me with a head full of stuff I can't shake. I apologized, he forgave me, but he never apologized for his own actions. My sinful nature is clawing it's way out. Anyone with a smart mouth has met their match with me. And this reminds me of why I walked away so many months ago - one of the reasons, anyway - because I've met a lot of Christians who just aren't any different than anybody else. I fit myself into that category. I've been no great saint. In this instance, the only clue that anyone believes in God is the way we've hurled Bible verses and theology at each other, not to teach and uplift, but to say "IN YOUR FACE!!" When both sides claim to be holy and the other side is evil... that's a fight nobody is going to win. It's a wonder God doesn't just chuck some lightning bolts at us or something, because He's got to be pissed. When you call Christian family members "evil" that's a pretty good sign... that you've got it in you, too.

We're all evil and defective. If we weren't, Jesus never would have shown up. Deep down, we're screwy. I've got enough anger and cynicism in me for 20 people. I don't like it and I don't want it anymore.

One thing is for sure: you can't become more like someone by walking away from them. So I've walked back. Pin It

Kid People

My first clue that I wasn't a "kid person" should have been in the 10th grade. I signed up for a class called Child Development because it seemed like it would be easy. That was how I picked my classes in high school - they either had to be what I considered mindless, or at least mundane enough that I could sleep through it. Just about every female took Child Development. The teacher who taught the class was a very popular one, and only grew in popularity when it became obvious she was more of a life coach than an instructor. Most days, she stared up at the ceiling, weeping gently, while trying to impart life lessons on her pimple-faced, gum-chewing kids. Don't have sex before you're married. Don't have a baby until you're at least in your early twenties. Don't do drugs. Stay in school. Crack is whack. That sort of thing.

While many kids were fascinated with watching complete strangers give birth on VHS, I was horrified. The miracle of childbirth looked more to me like a massacre and I couldn't understand why everyone teared up. Everyone oohed and aahed the bloody, slimy scalp emerging from Betty Birth Canal's crotch. I opted to draw pictures on my textbooks, instead.

As a woman, I feel like I should adore all children. Like there should be some maternal instinct in me that causes me to look at all kids as cherubs that I feel inclined to hug, play with, or in some way nurture. My heart should skip a beat, tears should well up in my eyes, I should automatically begin ovulating... something.

That, unfortunately, isn't me. After much soul-searching, I have come to recognize that I am not a kid person. I have quite a few nieces and nephews and I love them dearly and geniunely look forward to spending time with them. Apart from my nieces and nephews (OK, and my godchild)... no thanks. I love the ones I'm related to. I can do without the rest. This doesn't mean I hate children; far from it. I just don't have the patience or innocence to deal with kids.

I like babies, toddlers, and teenagers. It should come as no surprise that toddlers and teenagers are the two groups most people can't stand, because both give you back-talk, and both get themselves into things they shouldn't. A 2-year-old, for example, might insist on wearing a plaid skirt and a polka-dot sweater; a 16-year-old might insist on wearing a miniskirt and a tube top. A 2-year-old might get into a can of ant repellent; a 16-year-old might get into your liquor cabinet. In both cases, you are likely to spend a lot of time shrieking, "YOU'RE NOT WEARING THAT OUT IN PUBLIC!" and putting padlocks on cabinets and cupboards.

When I took Child Development, each class ran their own temporary daycare. Where they got the gullible chumps who dropped off their kids, I don't know. We reacted to them as if they were iPods (not that we had them back then), not human beings. We marveled over their pudgy fingers and blond hair and their inability to correctly pronounce words with the letter "r" in them. Each day started off with staffing rolling up their sleeves, getting down on the floor, and playing with the children. That was when I realized I was unable to play. I couldn't relate; I didn't know what to say. I got the ages all wrong. When I stood over a 4-year-old with a rattle and said, "OK, goo-goo ga-ga, kid" and he looked at me as if I were one of Santa's elves with a cigarette dangling from my lips, I gave up and went back to drawing on my textbooks.

I think if I had had kids when I was in my twenties, things would be different. As it is, that never happened, and after 10 years of marriage I am very set in my ways. I get annoyed tripping over cat toys, so how would I fare with a household of kid toys? I get irritated when I'm at the pool and little kids are swimming head-first into me and splashing me. Even my cat understands - when anyone under the age of about 15 comes into our apartment, she runs and hides as far away as possible. We both like quiet, predictability, and sleeping in as late as we want.

People tell me I'd feel different if I had my own kids, and I believe that's true. Generally speaking, however, I can do without children. Well... children between the ages of about 3 and 14, which is quite a span. I worked as a cashier in a grocery store for a year, and I think that's where I got my ages from. Kids between 3 and 14 are the most likely to scream in the ice cream section, beg for Silly Putty, and humiliate their parents in the check-out line. Just my experience.

Cats don't do that. They poop in a box and eat off the floor and when they meow, it's cute. They ALWAYS act like toddlers, are ALWAYS cuddly, and they even catch and devour household vermin. I'd like to see your kindergartner do that!

Maybe someday God will give me my own children, and I can experience for myself all the wide-eyed wonders of parenthood, but until then... no, I can't babysit for you. Pin It