I just received a message from an old college friend with whom I was part of the campus’ Christian group. He is preparing me for a call he’s going to make next Tuesday, asking for a donation to our college chapter now that he is employed by the fellowship and his salary comes from chapter funds.

He said one thing in his message that often bothers me about conversations I have with other Christians. He would like me to donate towards the chapter only if I feel like God wants me to give. So, if I’m not getting any message from God one way or another, I shouldn’t give, right? What if I want to give because an old friend is asking? If God really wanted me to give to the chapter, I wouldn’t even need an email from someone to propel me to do so, right?

I guess the part that bothers me boils down to this: why can’t I take credit for wanting to do something nice for a friend? Honestly, even when I was very heavily into the Christian life, I rarely did things against my will, just because I thought God wanted me to. Certainly a part of me would have to “agree with God” in order to do it. But that part of me still made the conscious decision, so why does some one else get the thanks? If I decide not to give, does that mean God told me not to or that I just didn’t listen?

This goes so much further than this one example. Historically, Christians give God the credit (or “glory”, if you will) for the great, wonderful things that happen to them. But then when bad things happen, it seems that the blame is always directed towards the sin or wrongdoing of the person. If the person gets the blame for bad things, shouldn’t they also get the credit for good things?

Lots of questions, I know. And I can’t say I’ll ever really know the answers, but I’m not content with the ones I’ve been given so far. So, I guess I’ll keep questioning until the answers are irrefutable and absolute.

On a 2nd (or 1st or 3rd) date, don’t mention my obsession with “Gossip Girl”, either the TV series or the books series. Noted.

There are some great things about riding a scooter. Besides the good MPG. Such as being able to smell the BBQ at the fancy house on your way home, or the chocolate cookies at the local bakery. Another is being able to feel the wind against your skin, having to squint a little because sometimes it hits a bit hard but you’re feeling it, so that’s good enough.

The downside is that you can also smell the dumpster at your bagel shop and the dead possum you just passed on the road (and had to actually concentrate to avoid hitting). The fact that you can actually see that the dead object is…was, in fact, a possum also is a negative aspect, I’d say. I actually feel more, now, for the little squirrels and birds I see on the road, when I’m not separated from them by a hunk of metal casing that protects me from their site, smell, and whatever else they project. Call me sentimental.

My kitchen sink drips. Slowly, but it drips day in and day out. I forget about it when I’m not in the kitchen, but every time I walk in there, I see it drip and am reminded. I’ve though about asking my landlord to look into it, but if I just avoid my kitchen for a few days at a time, it makes it a little less noticeable. It may cost me in the end, but for now, I don’t really want to deal with the trouble of fixing it.

If you think about it, this is pretty symbolic. But, yes. My kitchen sink does drip.

In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not posting much because my life is kind of at a stand-still for a while. And since I know this is a public forum and know it can be read by anyone, I’m not publishing my thoughts on the situation, just because it makes it more difficult.

Everything was supposed to be “final” last week, but, handling this on my own (aka sans attorney), I missed an integral step in the process and arrived at court only to find out I didn’t actually secure the date. It was quite upsetting at first, as you can imagine, but I soon came to grips with it and worked fast to take the necessary steps to secure the next available date, which is next week. If all doesn’t go as planned, it will be another two weeks before I get another slot. Its not that I’m in a hurry, but I don’t want to prolong the situation either.

One positive is that I’m going on vacation soon with my mom and brother. We’re going to the Outerbanks, which has been frequently suggested to me as a place to visit. So my mom is flying into Nashville next Saturday, and then we fly to Norfolk, where we’ll meet my brother, and drive to Nags Head for a week on the beach. I am very much looking forward to it.

The injury that was a result of my water sports accident last weekend is almost completely healed. I had the stitches taken out on Thursday and you can barely see it even now. Sorry, I don’t have any good pictures. I’m supposed to keep it covered with sunscreen to lessen the scarring, so that will be one of my primary tasks on my vacation.

Oh, and during my soccer games tomorrow. Tomorrow is the beginning of the Championship games, so if we win the first one, we’ll stay to play another one. I’ve had a week off and haven’t practiced at all. I hope I can hold up the whole game. Hopefully we’ll have at least 1 girl sub this time.

Now I remember why take-out and frozen dinners are smart choices when cooking for one. Fresh vegetables and bread seem to go bad quicker than they should. Or maybe I’m just not creative enough with the ingredients I have in my cabinet and fridge. That is very possible.

When my father passed away in 1992, I coped like any 12-year-old girl might cope. I imagined he was just away on a business trip and would come home soon. I would dream that I called home and he answered the phone and I’d be speechless. I’d wake up in the middle of the night thinking I heard him open the garage door.

Even 16 years later, I’ve realized I’m still employing some of the same coping mechanisms, but this time to my current situation. Although I know this “loss” is the result of a deliberate action, and not something completely out of my control, it is still a loss nonetheless. And I find its a little easier to pretend that the reason I’m ordering 1 burrito instead of two, or getting 3 takeout cups of salsa instead of six is because he is on vacation, and not the obvious reality that is quite the opposite. I imagine this is going to take some time.

So, as some of you may have heard, I have moved out on my own and will soon be “single” again. Its quite a weird situation to be in, and I won’t go into details here, but feel like I need to at least put it out there. I am living by myself for the first time EVER, and I’m still adjusting to the idea. I imagine it will take a while to fully comprehend the situation, but for now, I am keeping busy with work and laundry.

My new place is a cute spacious duplex not far from work (a “scoot ride”, I always say) that is the top floor of an “old money” home in West Nashville. Its at least 1200 sq ft and I have the coolest downstairs neighbors. We’ve already planned a Sunday at the humane society, which I do frequently, and they get regular tickets to the Titans games, so you know I’m excited about that. I was really lucky to find this place and I’m going to make it my own. Which I’ve never done. Every action will be deliberate because I want it to be that way.

Of course there are moments of solace interlaced into this time of change, and if you desire to know that element of my experience, please email me, as it is too personal to put here. I do see this as a new start, but also know that my life is forever impacted by the past 7 years and I have no intention of forgetting that time.

When I was a kid at summer camp, we used to trade in tokens for various “campy” trinkets and toys. Among the selection were rabbit furs and fox tails. I always though those were pretty cool and thought “awww, poor bunny. I wonder how it died”. Never did I think that someone had killed it for its fur.

Then on Sunday I just happened to choose to watch an HBO special on Ingrid Newkirk, the founder of PeTA. I have never really taken an interested in PeTA because of all the negative publicity they generate and their extreme approach to animal activism. To say that animals are, on every level, just like humans and should be treated as such is a bit extreme in my mind. That sentiment was absolutely reinforced through this candid documentary, but I also saw something I will never be able to erase from my memory. As they have a tendency to do, they flashed a graphic video without any forewarning and I didn’t have a chance to look away or even know what was coming. It was a video of an animal being skinned, alive. *shudder* It was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen and I am still reeling from it. (If you are even a bit curious about the video, google for “fur is murder” and it will take you to the PeTA video campaign site. Its the one about Chinese fur harvesting.)

I don’t know how I thought fur coats were made or obtained, but I guess I just never really thought about it hard enough to care. Surely I know deep down that they don’t take fur from already dead animals, but I never thought about the fact that there are actually “furriers” who raise animals just to kill them for their fur. And to know that in some areas of the world its done it such an inhumane way just so they don’t mess up the fur, it just makes me sick. How are there not rules against this?

And surely my friends who own fur coats don’t know this is happening, right? I mean, I’ve always had an icky feeling about fur coats or mink stoles, enough that I’ve never wanted to buy one, but surely those who have bought them don’t know about this. Or do I have sadistic, shallow friends who would purchase them even knowing the full truth? I just can’t believe that. Surely anyone who has seen this video or images like it would never purchase or want to purchase the product of such cruelty.

Surely.

I just met a relative of the 9-year-old boy mentioned in this article. She was walking from the garage into the clinic at the same time I was and asked for directions to the Children’s hospital. Knowing what a maze this place is, I told her I’d just walk with her so she didn’t get lost, even though I wasn’t going in that direction. After a short silence, she proceeded to tell me, in sporadic short sentences, that her nephew was injured in a car accident last night and that his father died in the crash. I tell ya, I started tearing up as we were walking over there. I felt so bad for her, but also felt proud to work at the hospital that was taking care of her family. I walked her through the Children’s food court and to the hospital elevators. As I wished her luck, she said “Bless you” and smiled a little. I smiled a little too.