Keepin' it real.....real awkward.

I went away to camp for three months this past summer. While I was gone my parents found Jesus. I thought Samantha was kidding when she told me, but she was completely serious. I flew home on a Saturday. The next morning my mom woke me up to ask me if I wanted to go to church with them. Me. In a church. Can you imagine? I laughed because I thought she was kidding, but the look in her eyes stopped me mid-chuckle...she was honestly inviting me. I declined as politely as I could.

Now, I have the advantage of having a sister who is just like me. We are a pair of liberal, pagan heathens (it is possible that is redundant, but we had a neighbor growing up who referred to children as "heathens" so I associate that word more often with wild children rather than godless hellions). I have a partner in staying home Sunday mornings, even though I am usually the one staying home and she is usually the one going to work what with my current state of unemployment and her current state of employment.

Now, let me be clear, I don't actually care if my parents go to church. I wouldn't even care if Samantha started going to church. If that makes them happy (and please allow me to assure you, it makes them VERY happy) then I am all for them going. I am just not going. And it kills my mom. It just eats at her that we are not interested in going to church. I am sorry, I have never been to church with you before in my life...I am 24 years old, don't try to help me find Jesus now.

For Thanksgiving the church had a lunch/dinner party thing after the service. Both of our parents wanted us to go, and Samantha was on board, but they didn't wake her up beforehand, so she didn't get the chance to go. Sweet. I was not so lucky this time around. Samantha made it a point to let our parents know she wanted to come to the Christmas program and dinner, and if she was going to go that meant I had to go. Not only because I couldn't send her alone, but because I would NEVER hear the end of it.

So, this morning we got up bright and early (you know, at like 9:30 am!) and got ready for the program. We elected to skip the service and show up, instead, for just the Christmas play...you know...Joseph&Mary and the angels and the shepherds and the wise men and Jesus and all that. Samantha had drove across town to pick Cheri up since her daughters were both IN the play and everyone agreed it'd be sweet for her to get to see them, so we showed up a little after the play started. Once we found the door, we realized we had to wander through the ENTIRE cast waiting for the cue to start their way down the aisle to the front of the church.

Awesome.

We interrupted the entire thing and managed to make it to an empty pew IN THE FRONT of the church (since, for some reason, everyone was sitting in the back). Cheri went in first with Samantha right behind her, and they both sat down without leaving me any room, so I had to make them move down further. At this point, I would say I was definitely wishing for an anonymous death. There were 30 people trying to figure out who the fuck we were and what we were doing there...of course, it became all too clear when CC came tearing out of the back squealing "MOMMY!" at the top of her lungs. We sat and enjoyed the show (my dad was a wise man, Shelby was an angel, and Zeb was a shepherd).

After the play (and after "Joseph" knocked an ENTIRE pew over), everyone wandered into the back to eat. Because what is a Christmas play w/o tons of food, amirite? Samantha and I are obviously very uncomfortable, but she was willing to wait it out, so I sucked it up and kept my mouth shut. My dad introduced us to the pastor, which was painful, and then we, too, made it to the back corner and took up shop at what I referred to as the pagan table with the structurally questionable chairs. I mean, these chairs looked like they were being held together by rust and miracles, so yeah, I did not sit down because I was seriously terrified that the chair would not hold me. Being fat rules.

Our mom came back to say hi and introduce us to some more people. We mumbled hello uncomfortably, and then were offered food by several passersby, our parents included. My mom asked me 5 or 6 different times if I wanted a plate. Even Samantha asked me. I said no every time. I was not hungry, and I couldn't focus on eating, I was too busy trying to keep from throwing up, crying, or both with my fantastic luck. As the other tables filled, patrons wandered down to our table and began taking seats there. Again I was told "you can eat, if you want to," to which I politely replied "no thank you, I am not hungry." I KNOW I AM ALLOWED TO EAT. I COOKED HALF THAT SHIT. IF I WERE HUNGRY, I'D EAT. BUT I'M NOT HUNGRY.

At around this point, Samantha had managed to fix herself a plate of food and to bring us both glasses of tea, but neither of us was comfortable. At all. My mom asked me AGAIN if I wanted a plate, and I told her to stop asking me because she was going to give me a panic attack. I think it hurt her feelings, but what was I supposed to tell her? No was not cutting it, and I wasn't going to say yes because I have better things to do than lie about wanting a plate of food. Yeesh.

After a bout of child wrangling (our three were absolutely horrid, but that's par for the course) that resulted in me standing in the kid's area watching over Zeb and CC plus two other kids I didn't know to make sure they cleaned their plates and watching Shelby stand in the corner for a timeout because she kept playing with her food, we traded keys with my dad and got.the.fuck.out of there.

I came home, changed back into my pajamas, and went back to bed in the hope that I would be able to mentally lower my blood pressure.

Never. ever. ever. again. I hope they know that.

The Builders and the Butchers

Mermaids

Zeb: There was this girl who was born with mermaid syndrome.
Me: Oh really?
Zeb: Yeah, that means she only has one leg.
Me: Yeah, that happens sometimes.
Zeb: The doctors said she wouldn't live 72 hours. She just had her 10th birthday!
Me: That's awesome! Is she in your class?
Zeb: WHAT?! NO! I saw her on OPRAH!!!!

Quote of the Day

"If you're not scared, you're not taking a chance."
-Ted Mosby

(don't judge me.)

How to Ensure I Will Adore You Forever

Bring home the second book in a series of children's books from your elementary school library for me to read. 

Cold.

It is so cold I think my nails have stopped growing.

Hilarious Conversations Online

bekah: oh did you click on the first or second link
me: the second
and I just made it my bitch
bekah: interesting
me: so I can see it now.
and the first

I do not know why I said the second
obv b/c I am a liar after ten p.m.
bekah: hahahahahahhAHAHAHAHAHDFLIJEWG)WGHKNEhlN!

p.s. Bekah, I hope you don't mind.

Mixed Signals

Sometimes I feel fine. Really and truly. Hopeful about the future and like I am doing alright. This is just temporary and I know it and I can still breathe when I think about it because I know it's just a point on the line of my life.

But other times I feel like my molecules are splitting apart and my atoms are going to fly out of me. Those days are more often. And they are hard. It is a lot of "why me?" and "if I had fought harder would I still be in this situation?" That one is the worst. Because I can't change the past, only the future.

I keep telling myself the same things over and over again in hopes that at some point they will stick. I want to be better. I will be better. It will be better. I have a future.

My grandma called me yesterday to inform me that there are 8,000 jobs in South Dakota and they have NOBODY to fill them. Sadie has offered me her spare room in her house in AZ, Allie and I have tentative plans to move in together in TN in May, Bekah has shown me several different job sites and offered me a spot in her future apt in MD. It appears to me that I have a fair amount of opportunity, I just need to get my head on straight and figure out what I want. I know I don't want to be here. And I know it's going to be difficult for both me and my family when I do leave.

It's like that Forget Cassettes song: "I know it hurts, but good god, girl, get up and fight for it."

Keeping it Together.

Let me just start by saying, I have had a REALLY rough week. Not for any particular reason. I mean, there are people in my county whose houses burned down this week (I think three different families), so I could be any one of them complaining about my week, but I'm not. It is just my crazy all built up and brimming over.

I am trying to enjoy the season. I wasted fall, my favorite season in the history of seasons, hating everything. It's just really hard. My grandma always says you should just pretend you are happy, and then one day you will be. Mind over matter. I try. I really, really do, but because I have no actual plans for the future it's really hard to pretend to be happy now. The only thing I know for sure is that I will be here for the foreseeable future...and that breaks me.

I am still crocheting. Not with as much fervor as before, and not because I like it less, but because I am less driven to do anything. I don't really have the patience to concentrate on anything.

At least there is winter camp! I am super excited about that. And, afterwards when I spend a few days in PA with Danielle, we are thinking about taking a day trip to NYC. Matt and Jenny are supposed to be going, and David lives there, and I haven't see him in five years, so I will probably die of "OMFG IT'S YOU!"

I need a plan. I just need a plan that I can follow. I am good at following. I am not good at ideas, but if someone tells me what to do, I am pretty good at making it happen.