a new story, an old story.

Sometimes, the dark places, dark things, can start to follow us. I mean, really follow us.

I started work on a new story yesterday for submission in February.
I've promised myself that even though I've graduated art school, I am going to keep submitting and hopefully winning some money for my writing. And some credit.
Unfortunately, sometimes my stories are pretty dark in nature.
The last one got me in a funk for two days, where I had nightmares and weird thoughts.
This latest story is starting to have the same effect.
I think sometimes when we open a door, we can't control what comes in.
In order to write these stories, I have to open myself (and my mind) up to some dark things. I have to be willing to think about my characters, and where the dark corners of their minds are, and just how far they're willing to go to get what they want.

The weird thing is- I like it.
I know that sounds bad. But, a part of me likes these dark places in people. They are more mysterious, they make better stories, they are a side of life that is exciting.
Not that I want to live that way.
But, it's just so interesting.
Don't get scared. I'm not dwelling there. But my characters are. They live there, they hang out in these dark places. They feed on them.
Yeah, I know. It's creepy.

But the creepiest part is that something inside of me really is a writer that never stops working, even in my sleep.
For example, I am writing a story about a bad boy and the good girl who starts hanging out with him because she's weirdly fascinated by him.
And last night, I dreamed with someone in my life who was very similar to this character. Someone in my past.
And in the dream, he locked my entire family in a house and burned it to the ground, while I was watching, because I had fallen for some "nice" guy.
Whoa.
So, I figure I'll stick this in my story. Hey, I may as well not suffer through weird nightmares for nothing.

But, I'll close that dark door once I finish it. And unlike my past self, I won't re-open it. I won't even walk in there, and I definitely won't make a home in it. Maybe my dark stories will help people wish for something light, maybe they won't. But they will for me.

heel prison.

I remember that becoming a Christian was an awakening for many reasons. But one night, as I was sitting out on the lawn of my apartment building, waiting for the breeze to pass- I remember the main reason that becoming a Christian rocked my world.

Hunched over, pressing my knees to my chest, eyes closed, I experienced the weirdest and greatest thing I ever have in my entire life:

God Talks.

Yeah, that's what I said.

And my life was never the same. For some reason, the thought that the God of all the universe could somehow communicate with me via thoughts, or the bible, or billboards, or other people, became an object of obsession. From then on, I thought, I pleaded:
GOD, PLEASE TALK. THAT IS SO COOL.


If you're not a Christian right now, you think I am crazy. Actually, even if you are a Christian, you might think I am crazy. But God has been talking to me a lot lately. I know some people think God doesn't care about the little things in our lives- but he does. He often proves he does when we least expect it. Although, he doesn't have to prove anything.
But he's God like that.

So, yesterday I am feeling down and bummed and miserable. I have been stuck in the house for six hours, the sun is not shining, and in a great vat of self-pity, all I can think about is how hard life has been post-grad. So, naturally, what do I do?

DSW.

If you don't know what DSW is, it's because you're a man.

DSW is the mecca of shoes. If you want a shoe, you can find it at DSW. They even have men's shoes. They have blue shoes, brown shoes, boots, heels, funny shoes, serious shoes, shoes on sale, shoes in leather, shoes in wicker, shoes that feel good, shoes that feel awful- but look good. Every shoe you could possibly imagine, and then some more on clearance.

Yes, I went to the shoe store.

And on the way, I felt so bad. I mean, the whole way there I kept hearing a voice inside of me saying: What are you doing? Why are you going here? What are you looking for? What do you think buying a shoe will solve?

And you might find it ridiculous, but for me, it's equivalent to alcohol or some strong narcotic. In the moment, buying a shoe will solve everything. It will make me feel better, it will give me a piece of identity for a few hours, and when I wear it for the first time I will feel NEW, just like my shoe.

Everybody wants to feel new.

But yesterday, I just felt bad. I just felt the voice of something inside saying: turn back, the more you buy, the more you own, the more you own, the more you are owned.
Life in bondage to your material possessions.

If you've never been to DSW, you don't know that in the back of the store, there is a cave-like structure, with dozens and dozens of racks filled with shoes, and this section, this cave is called: THE CLEARANCE. And in this section, as you walk through, there are full length mirrors. And the reason they put those mirrors there is so that you can pass by, assess your inadequacies, and decide that shoes will solve all of your problems.

Maybe you're just supposed to see how they look with your outfit.

But anyway, I was walking through the cave-like clearance, hearing God say to me: turn back, Luisa. You are already in debt, you already have stuff, stop buying more stuff, more stuff will not fill the emptiness inside of you. More stuff will not give you an identity. More stuff will not love you.

And I passed one of those full length mirrors, and saw my reflection. Now, mind you, women at DSW usually look pretty happy. They are galloping and skipping through the aisles, they make fairy movements. They stop, gasp at the "cuteness" of a shoe, and they pull out the box in wonder to try it on. Usually, this is me.

But not yesterday.

Instead, I passed a mirror, looked into it and saw a hunched over, frowning, baggy-eyed, dark circles version of myself. I was miserable.

And suddenly, I began to think how much I was disappointing God by looking to everything BUT him for my fulfillment. I began to realize how little faith I was having that he really was telling me the truth when he says that our material possessions will own us, and that the love of money is the beginning of many evils. So, I started to feel really down (which just makes me REALLY want to buy shoes) and I felt ashamed.

Then, a song came on overhead, one of those songs they play at retail stores that repeat the same thing over and over. And I AM NOT KIDDING. It said:

I love you. I have nothing but love for you. I can't give you anything but love.

God's voice.

And I ran out of there so fast, I mean, running-shoe fast.

And as I walked away, I thought: my God is a God of freedom. He frees me from even myself. Following him, I will never be in bondage. No matter how it appears to the outside world, I am free because I have been given the ability by God to say "no" to those things that cave people in, that make them slaves. And the power, through him, to say "yes" to those things that make us free.

:)

Bumps.

I spent my Saturday doing the last thing on earth a Floridian would ever do with the inside of a tire: sliding down hills of snow.
I've got a few brand new purple bruises (mostly on my knees and hip bones), and a lot of good memories.
I guess inner tubing is kind of like life:
You climb up to the top of this hill, and then you slide, slide, slide down.
And on the way down there are lots of bumps. Sometimes, the bumps are good, and you fly through the air, and when you land, you laugh.
Sometimes the bumps aren't so good, and they kind of throw you off your tube, and when you land, you hit your face on packed ice, and maybe you lay there thinking: what happened? The last time, that bump was fun. The last time, that bump made me happy.
And maybe someone comes careening toward you while you're facing in the other direction, and their sled hits your inner tube, and you come crashing down and slam (again) into the ice.
But then, you get up, and you brush yourself off, and you move out of the way (because you've learned your lesson) and you start your ascent back up to the top of that hill.
And as you climb back up, slipping and sliding your way up, you wonder if the next trip down will be one that ends in laughter or in bruises.
Either way, you're glad you did it.

Yemen

Yesterday my boyfriend informed me that he has made the decision to apply for a one year mission trip to Yemen.
I don't even know where to begin dissecting this one.
We've been dating for nearly 3 years- and there is honestly no end in sight for our boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. We love being together, but neither one of is ready to commit to a marriage.
Yemen, however, is so far away.
I am so torn. I have felt often, in my relationship, that I am in a waiting stage. I know a marriage between my boyfriend and I could work. But mostly, I wonder if he knows that. Most of the time, I know it's not my job to convince him. It's God's. Even if a marriage between us could work, that doesn't mean it's the best God has for both of us. Maybe it would work even better with someone else.
I don't know.
I think those are the kind of questions that we haven't been able to answer as a couple. Are we made for each other? Or for someone else?
Now, there's this trip to Yemen, and any logical person would think that God is closing the door on our relationship. That's it. Say bye. The boy is going across the world.
And I am most hurt by the fact that he kind of put down the life I am living with this decision. In the assumption that those of us working 8-5 jobs, doing the same thing every day, living the simple life are somehow not really adventurous, we're not really living the gospel, we're not really doing anything for Jesus.
So, now I am at work and feeling like my job is meaningless.
And I think that on top of everything that was already happening, that is the worst blow.
You are not really living radically for Christ.
This isn't what he said, but it's definitely what I heard.
I told him I support his decision to go, but not as a girlfriend. I will gladly be his friend while he is overseas. I will gladly support him financially, and if God is calling him to do something, then I don't want to stop him.
But, I can't be the girlfriend forever- with no promise or even hope of a future while my boyfriend careens around the world having the time of his life, completely forgetting the girl he left behind, and maybe even deciding to stay in Yemen permanently.
I think we have passed the line of what is considered "fair" to ask of me in a relationship. I know life for God is not fair, but I am torn as to whether my heavenly father would just want me to let someone lead me on forever.
If he does, I hope he shows me, and enables me to do it. I have no possible idea how I will cope with this. What if my boyfriend comes back and decides then that he wants to do something else, somewhere else? How long do I wait around? 5 years? 10 years? With no talk or even glimmer of a future commitment?
I just can't do it.
I'd rather accept that we're not meant to be, and begin the process of moving on.
Maybe I am just a do or die type.
God, how I wish I could break down this entire office with a machete and suggest these people do something real, something radical. I envy him. I envy his freedom, his ability to get up and go, the way he can just DECIDE to go somewhere. I am so angry that I am stuck to the ground with loans and relationships and GARBAGE. I feel like I have failed on a magnitude so great I don't even know how to describe it.
You are ordinary.
Your boyfriend wants to be extraordinary.
And you're not invited.
Thanks.

Oh, glee. And Kids in the Congo.

Yesterday, I am sitting on a black leather couch at my bible study.

We are watching a video about kids in Sudan being held hostage by some crazy Bush-Jungle- Man in Africa who kidnaps them during the night, and forces them to join his rebel army, arming them with machetes and BIG GUNS. I mean, big. They're called the Lord's Resistance Army (go figure, crazy murderers just love to associate themselves with God) and they are pretty ridiculous. If you can think of the craziest crimes EVER- this guy has thought of them before you, and he is definitely doing them. His thing is all about gaining spiritual power- so he controls his army by making them think he is a God (yes, this actually works) and through fear (the other thing that actually works). He's nuts, no doubt. And what he's doing sucks, no doubt.

Not to make light of that- but to be honest: the whole entire time I am watching this video (about the kids in Sudan), filled with manipulative violin music that tries to make me feel something more than what I actually do, and horrible pictures I really don't need to see in order to understand that the situation is dire- I am thinking about: GLEE.

Not that I'm heartless or anything. Honestly, I care about these kids. I am sitting there- trying so hard to make myself think about the kids. Every time my brain goes back to GLEE, I think "NO! I have to think about the kids! They are suffering!" But I can't. I just can't force myself to get angry, or force myself to feel anything about the situation. Then I think "I will be judged by all Christianity- All I can think about is GLEE. People will think I am so shallow, so not-filled-with-Jesus, so apathetic, so heartless."

So this battle is raging on inside of me and then I look over at the woman across from me. She is the epitome of a Christian woman's Christian woman. She is a stay at home mom, beyond beautiful, gorgeous (I am talking 6 feet tall, blond hair that waves but isn't frizzy, and lips that say "kiss me"). She's had 3 kids (one that is 6 weeks old!) and looks like she could put on a very revealing swimsuit, no problem. When she looks at her husband with those honey suckle eyes, you kind of want to barf.

And she starts to tear up at the video. Just a few pretty tears, and she is holding her baby and just making me feel COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS because I am thinking about whether what's-his-name on GLEE will really leave his wife for that teacher with OCD. I can't do anything in order to muster up the kind of feelings this woman is having, the kind of life she obviously lives, the way she is just sooooooo perfect that I can't even begin to describe- one of those people who is just such a CHRISTIAN.

And inside I think: "FAIL."
Total fail. You will never be like that.
You will never cry over videos about children in Africa. You will never have hair that waves without frizz, and you will never look at your husband without a hint of sarcasm in your eyes. You will never be Ms. perfect Christianity.

But then: Then, I think: And God will always, always love you anyway. And he will always have given his son for you anyway, and he will always try to make you more of who he made you to be, and not someone else. And he will never care if you cry during the video, because it doesn't make him love you more or less. He already loves you enough. And he will change whatever he chooses to change about you, so stop condemning yourself.

Oh, and I do think hot teacher will leave his wife for OCD cute dresser. No doubt.

Post-grad.

God, do I spend a lot of my time avoiding grieving.
I even avoid the word grieving. Ugh. It sounds like something you have to say in a support group while weeping, sobbing women stuff their noses full of tissue and reach their arms out to you in gestures of fake-niceness you can't begin to want to enjoy. Do these people even know me? You wonder.
God, I hate my own weaknesses. How I wish I could just bury them somewhere, under cement.
Either way- any kind of pain or bad feeling, I spend so much of my time preventing, avoiding, distracting myself from.

Yesterday was a sad day.
I always hesitate to write about sad days online in the fear that someday someone will bring up what they read on my blog. And on that day, I'll actually be having a good day, in fact, a great day. And when they bring it up, they will mock how I felt on that sad day- and I'll agree with them. I'll mock it too, and I'll demean what was really a very sad day.
Like, yesterday.
A very sad day.
Yesterday, I woke up and it was dark outside. And the whole world felt like it was going to crumble down. Sometimes, I think Chicago has two faces: the winter face, and the summer face.
But yesterday, it wasn't the weather.
For some reason, graduating is the arm pit of life for me. No real direction from here. Don't know where I'm going. What I'm doing. Don't know my motives. Don't know a lot. Most days, I try to live in the moment, and be thankful that I have so much.
So, why do I feel so empty?
You'd think I would compare myself to people in prison, people with cancer, people in combat overseas. Those people really have a reason to complain. They are really suffering. This is the kind of thing Cuban parents tell you: Don't complain, some people really are suffering.
But it was sad.
Some idiots tell me I should pray harder and spend more time with God. Be more holy.
I can't imagine why Jesus himself didn't think of that when he CRIED.
hmm.
Some people tell me that it will all be okay, and eventually, God will work things out in his own way, and I'll see soon enough.
I like the second answer better.