limited

People can only anger me if I choose to let them.
People can only irritate me if I choose for such to be.

the price of a life

June 5-6, 2007

People long to be loved. But truly loved and so they might reject love over and over again in order to try it - see if it is truly love.

People long for meaning. This desire is usually eventually allowed to die from a quiet desperation and sad surrender to "reality" that there's not much to life (without so much as spelling it out, this is oft called part of becoming an adult).

And so then it usually becomes a living for oneself. Or a "good cause." A life is "devoted" (sacrificed/given) to things that are perhaps worthy in themselves, but too much is given to them. Lives, souls, are too high a price to pay for anything but the purest, truest, worthiest ideals and causes.

So what are these?

paper

June 5, 2007

On observing the plagued life of a highly fashionable (of the moment) model/actress, pursued and dogged relentlessly by celebrity photographers. She has ceased to become a person and at times she starts to realize this, to her horror. Even though she is popular, sought, liked, it is not her that they seek. It is the $20,000 reward one could get with the "right" picture of her. It is the status she brings. But she herself is no more. She has (almost) ceased to be. And in her place, where once was a person, is a bag of money.

---

A similar awful (but hardly as significant in magnitude) transformation happens when material things become even less than themselves. When they become plain dollar bills. When one hangs a painting or something that passes for art (or perhaps is honest enough to just be called home decorations) not for the beauty, or even appearance, but solely for the monetary value it represents (or facades). And so some are in houses of, dressed in, transported by, and surrounded solely by little drab pieces of paper.

love and sin

I'm a people watcher. Porter and I sat at the Powell's Books cafe one day, with books to read and coffee to sip. But as he read, I looked out on the busy downtown street, thinking and looking. So so many people. Longing to be loved. With some of them, this longing was obvious, their lifestyle cried out for it, but others it was well hidden, even from themselves perhaps. Drowned in pursuits, or rather, attempted drownings. Lives passing by, souls. Each one needing love. How can I bring God's love to them, and them to love's God? But this is only part of it...

June 5, 2007

"Unto you first God, having raised up his Son Jesus, sent him to bless you, in turning every one of you from his iniquities." Acts 3:26

This blessing, to many, is actually a curse. It is up to the individual whether it is a blessing or curse. Although, in truth, it is a blessing, but! A blessing that is not wanted/desired is thus, in a very sadly real sense, a curse.

It is too great a curse to be separated from their intimate sins to be blessed by God's love.

Chains

June 4, 2007

I am only bound by what I choose to be bound by. This is not true, some would cry, but it is. I might consider what I have or stand to lose by unbinding myself too great a cost, but I am the one determining even that. But your life! Aye, sometimes one might give that to break the bonds. Is it worth it? Only one can answer for himself. Does one bind only oneself? No, but only oneself determines whether he will let himself be bound.

An update (since I can't think of a more creative title)

It's been nearly 2 months since I moved to Oregon. Hard to believe sometimes. It is a new, completely different life. Oregon is breathtakingly beautiful. Trees overshadow my window, and through their branches I can see a lovely little marsh, and many more trees on the other side. One won't know there's a Catholic school for boys right across the swamp except for the occasional intercom, weekend event cheering, and nightlights. I'm not in the city - I'm in Oregon. A short walk through the quiet apartment complex brings me to Farmington Road, a Beaverton highway, and where I catch my buses. Beautiful lamp posts (Narnian, I'm sure) and trees line the street. (Pictures coming, hopefully soon)

There's a park nearby that Porter and I visited soon after I arrived, and it quickly became "our park." It's somewhat dark, as the tall, numerous trees tower above. Some trees have fallen, or perhaps not all the way yet. Moss and wildflowers and ferns and vines are on each side of the winding paths.

As I was flying to Oregon, I'm sure I was numb and dazed. Very much in autopilot. It was cloudy, and I hopefully scanned the clouds below for a peek at my new home. As we descended through the clouds and I saw the rivers and the hills covered in little houses and trees... wow. This is where I'm going to live? Porter greeted me at the airport with a lovely bouquet, and we spent a quiet afternoon together as he showed me a little of downtown, including Powell's Books and a nice Asian restaurant for dinner. He then dropped me off at my cousins, Jonathan and Annalyn, who offered to host me until I got a roommate situation. They live right by downtown, in a student apartment complex, and work with Intervarsity with international students. I wondered why Jonathan reminded me so much of my Dad, as he's on my mother's side, until I remembered they're both Merchant Marines...

I hit the ground running, which has really helped, but quite left me breathless and blinkingly dazed later. I filled out numerous job applications online while I was still in Missouri, and already had a few interviews lined up. I explored roommate possibilities, and found one that was very promising - right price and Christian roommate. And there was a surprising bonus - it was nearby Porter (who ended up in Beaverton, a large town right west of Portland).

I got a job at Sears almost right off the bat. The interviewers really liked me, even recommending a different job than I had applied for (cashier), seeing my talents were better suited for being a Softlines MCA (Merchandise Customer Assist). That's the people who, when you walk into a department store, come up and greet you and ask how they can help. They also keep the place clean, organize the racks, and (in Sears' case) keep the fitting rooms clean (never ever leave piles of clothes on the floor in a fitting stall or I shall haunt you and turn your pet chihuahua against you). And within two weeks I had signed with Becca and moved to my new apartment.

But before the Sears happened, I got another call from another online application, Costco. It was my first interview, and I think the day after I arrived. I was very nervous and totally not with it, and the questions caught me offguard... and I figured I "flopped." It did help me prepare for the Sears interview, though, which went much smoother. So I was surprised when Costco called back, about 2 weeks later, wanting me. Initially I refused, as I was working the Sears job, and didn't think the schedules would sync (they both wanted my nights and weekends), and didn't think I'd like it as much, but decided it would be best to take it (it paid once and a half, and had good benefits, and my sister and a friend highly recommended working for them). That was rather embarrassing calling back and changing my mind like that, but they were cool with it, and soon I was working 2 jobs. I would get my schedule from Costco on Tuesday, give it to Sears on Wednesday, and get it from Sears on Thursday. It was a day by day, doing the next thing life. Shower, make lunch, hop onto the bus, work, go home, collapse into bed. I usually was working until 10pm, and sometimes working two shifts a day.

Until I got sick. Got a bad headcold and took a sick day off from Sears, so enjoying lying in bed all day, even if I didn't feel so great. I took the next day off from Costco - I could have worked, excepting I work in the food court in Costco, and must keep with food regulations. Back to work the next day... and the next. But that second evening, I collapsed. Completely lost strength and started having painful spasms. Feverish and such. Drat, another sick day. Hated that, but there was no choice. I could barely walk and only the tiniest. And also had to take a fourth sick day (3 sick days for Costco, 2 sick days for Sears). And I realized... for the whole month I'd been working up until then, I had had only 3 days off work (including weekends). Two of those I'd gone up to Seattle to visit my brother and sister (and worked the evening I got back). My body was saying enough was enough. So I took it at its word and quit the Sears job.

I was rather glad to quit the Sears job, for though I liked it at first, I soon discovered what jobs can be like. I hadn't finished my training when they tossed me onto the floor in the busiest section of the store. And it wasn't long before I was on my own. It was understaffed and I was usually scheduled during the busiest times. I now hate sales days. The store started slipping in its status (was very highly ranking state and nation wide), and we had to work harder, smile more, and it even got to the point we were supposed to ignore our work to help as many customers as possible (since customers are the arbitrators of ranking). And turned out, the Costco job in the food court, which I thought I won't like as much... I do. I wrap hot dogs and slice pizza, fill cups with smoothies or mocha freezes, make a quick sundae, or wrap a churro. Or run the register. I haven't started making the pizzas or chicken bakes yet. And then "closing."

"You working until closing tonight?"
"Nope, I get off at 6:30." :said grinningly:
"Lucky."
:still grinning:

Usually I close the patio, while the rest of the unlucky few close inside the food court. Closing the patio means cleaning all the tables, putting them aside with this lil wheeled table moving thingy, taking apart the condiment containers and bringing them in to get washed, and wiping down the condiment tables and soda machine. And sweeping and mopping. And garbages. It takes at least an hour. And inside they're wiping down everything, counting down the registers, putting food in the cooler (or throwing it out, counting. If any of us ate any food, he'd lose his job), washing dishes, hosing the floor (nonskid shoes are not optional)... and when we're done, someone fetches a manager to check us, inspecting the place for the least lil crumb. And then they let us know if we've passed, if we're done, and then we joyfully take off our aprons and hairnets and zap ourselves out (lil nametags have barcodes on the back for recording in, out, and lunches). We're oft working 15 to 30 minutes longer than we're scheduled for. Only once have we finished early.

At the beginning of this month, the Portland area public transit system changed some of the schedules, and since then it's been frustratingly unpredictable. They don't even keep with the new schedules, There's been several times I've almost been late. I used to buy myself weekly passes ($20), but now am buying monthly ($75). This can get me all over Portland and the immediately surrounding cities. To get to Sears, I'd walk 10 minutes to a Farmington intersection and catch a bus that'd bring me right to the mall. To get to Costco, I catch a bus right outside my apartment complex and take that to a MAX (commuter train) transit center, ride the MAX, and then walk 10 minutes to Costco. All in all, I have to give an hour to get to work. When I'm working late, Porter drops off his car and takes the public transportation home himself. One late night I was on my own to get home. When I got off the MAX to catch the bus, I discovered the bus had left only maybe 30 seconds before the MAX arrived. The next would be in an hour (night runs are infrequent). So after some puzzlement, I hopped onto the next train, hoping to catch a different bus. When I arrived at that TC (transit center), and called the tracker number for the bus... even though on the schedule there was supposed to be one more bus for the night, there wasn't. Next was at 5 in the morning. Eek... ok. Back on the MAX to try for the first bus (just going the other way). Get off at Beaverton Central TC (the TC Porter told me to avoid at night...) and look around for my bus. Walk over to what I thought was it, but, no, that went the other way. Where's my bus? After looking around dazed for a while, and looking at the bus maps to see if any would bring me close enough, I realized that the bus was the one I wanted... I just had gotten so confused, I almost missed it...

Between working and late nights, Porter and I've only been able to go to church once since I moved over from my cousins. We're planning to go again to one we've visited, a relaxed, informal quaker that meets at a community center. I've asked for my Sunday mornings off at Costco now that I only work one job.

Porter and I have also attended two of the Plett's dances so far (one the Regency Ball). Porter enjoys ECD and promises to be an elegant dancer. It's been great to continue dancing. Another thing I miss is playing the piano. I did drop by one piano store and ask if I may play pianos, which I might, but I hadn't brought my books, and besides one song, I couldn't remember anything else by memory. I hope to go there again soon, armed with books, or get access to a keyboard or piano elsewhere.

But meanwhile... I got a guitar, or rather, I'm borrowing Porter's. Needs to be restringed and tuned, and then I shall try to figure it out. The guitar was the instrument I liked the least, but I'm getting desperate and will give a lil on my prejudices. ;)

Anyhow, I think, besides pictures, that catches my readers up on my life (questions welcome), and from now on, I'll try to have this blog be more of a thinkings and ponderings blog as intended.