reedy's rambles

Starting over is never the hard part. The hard part comes later when you the "started over" needs to be restarted . . . again.

I think we become obsessed with starting over. And I am the worst. The smell of a new notebook, the feeling of an unused credit card in my wallet, seeds. They sing of possibility and it is exciting, but I can come crashing when the newness wears off. O either replace the old or I push it aside or I worry about its usedness. I could apply this in so many areas. After I feel that I have screwed up, I just want to start over. I think it is why I pay someone to clean my car, file my nails, wax my eyebrows. I love the newness. I always convince myself, "Now that I have a fresh start, I'll keep up with it." I estimate this has cost me well over $50,000 so far in the last ten years. Obviously, my current plan is not working.

I think I could go on and on, but Medium is on.

When I read the back cover of The Burn Journals, I physically winced. Seeing burned people or reading about burned people always gives me that weak in the knee deeply affected sensation. However, I bought it and read it. I thought it was a deeply moving, honest portrayal. I also know that my next encounter will move me to compassion, not disgust.

I could not be more excited about Thanksgiving. Rent comes out. We are going to see Wicked. And Theresa will be home. I miss that girl so much!

I think I will go to Borders tonight. I received a $5 off coupon from the MNEA conference, and I need a new book. Technically, that is a lie. I bought Shadow Baby last weekend, and I am excited about starting that book. But I have a condition that forces me to always have a "back-up." For example, as soon as I start a new deodrant, I have to buy the "back-up." I hate running out . . . of anything. Toilet paper, deodrant, shampoo, toothpast, Clorox bleach wipes, candles, it doesn't matter. I just hate the feeling of reaching for something, and it not being accessible. I think this might be borderline OCD.

So, I definitely need a new book, before I can even start Shadow Baby.

I was always a good student. However, I also enjoyed sleeping through classes or finding excuses to stay away from classes. I graduated with honors, but I skipped a lot of class and never got into trouble.

Today, after Aaron asked to get a drink twice and go to the bathroom and asked if he could go to the nurse, I looked at him closely. He wasn't sick, he was bored. IN MY CLASS! I recognized him immediately and knew that at any moment the boredom was going to swallow him whole and force him to envision himself throwing himself out the window. So, I did what any teacher would do. We played Connect Four.

Making my list . . .
Celestial Seasonings's Peppermint Tea
Yankee Candle's pumkin candle
Torn jeans
The sound of leaves behind my house
DQ's Pumpkin Pie Blizzard
Veronica Mars
Singing along with the Mamas and the Papas
My 90 year old Grandma Reedy and her 92 year old boyfriend, Joey
Quick Trip's 1/2 Toffee Latte mixed with 1/2 Dark Roast
Sudafed's new shower tablets
Vaporizers

I finished A Million Little Pieces. I mailed it to mys sister promptly in an obvious used condition. She criticizes how hard I am on books. But I can't help it. I don't just read before I go to sleep. I read in the bathtub, in between classes, on planes, in waiting rooms, anywhere the book can travel. I never use a bookmark, I am a librarian's nightmare how I fold corners. The book I mailed to my sister was missing a sticker on its cover. It was one of those Oprah stickers. I see nothing wrong with Oprah's club, but the sticker bothered me, so I peeled it off. It left that gummy residue-- I hate gummy residue on anything.

I have been thinking a lot about church lately. What I think about it, what I want from one, what I could give to one . . . But the question that keeps coming back to me is how to get "The CHURCH" to truly be the bride of Christ. I want to be a part of a community where I am excited to bring friends to because it is an honest representation of the bride. I don't feel that way now. I am not a happy church-goer. My church baptized me, sent me to Bible college, encouraged me in Puerto Rico, but now I can't pray or speak in church because in the words of my minister, "If women stepped up, the men would step down."

It is ironic that my parents criticized the amount of time I spent at church when I was in high school, but now when they call and I am home on a Sunday morning, they seem sad. I know they are sad that I am not happy with a place where I once felt so much joy. We discussed this over sushi last week. I discussed church and what I thought it should look like with my parents who haven't stepped in a church for years.

I am not sure what to do about this or where I should go. I refuse to "give up" on church, but I wish I knew where to go from here . . .