i am. thirty.

i was born.
a girl.
a daughter.
a granddaughter.
a niece.
a sister.

i started becoming.
a reader.
a rememberer.
an immigrant.
an advocate.
a friend.

some things you made me.
a sister-in-law.
an auntie-to-be.
a girlfriend.
a forgiver.
a better friend.

some things i made myself.
a researcher.
a writer.
a leader.
a follower.
my own friend.

some things i am still becoming.
a law student.
a cook and baker.
a discerner.
a jogger.
a listener.

some things i dream of yet becoming.
a defender.
a treeclimber.
a runner.
a mother.
a whole.

i am thirty.
and i'm becoming more.

"you *have* to be kidding!"

too many mornings, those are the first words out of my mouth. it's been taking me hours to fall asleep at night and forever to wake up in the morning. my dreams have been vivid and occasionally emotionally exhausting, so i often walk through my day like a zombie. the dumb kind of zombie. the kind that thinks cauliflowers are brains. [(c) seth grahame-smith]

last night, as i lay in bed, between playing "6 degrees of separation"* and realizing that i have only two weeks to complete my first draft of my thesis, it was very hard not to wonder what my life will be like a year from now. will i be in toronto? will i be more sure of myself? will i be more disciplined? will i - dare i ask? - be happy?

anyway, i think my cell phone is beginning to resent the abuse. does anyone know a surefire way to convince the body that sleep is for nighttime and alert wakefulness is for daytime?

* for instance: at his audition for "glee," chris colfer sang "mr. cellophane" from "chicago." his character, kurt hummel, also sang that song in the pilot. how can i connect "glee" and "chicago"?

glee - jane lynch - julie and julia - stanley tucci - it could happen to you - nicholas cage - the rock - sean connery - entrapment - catherine zeta-jones chicago

nb: this was before i knew that jane lynch was in talladega nights: the ballad of ricky bobby. this piece of information would have simplified things considerably, since john c. reilly is mr. cellophane himself.

n is for nightmare

over the last few months, my dreams have gotten more vivid. they've always been pretty weird, but they've become more detailed and memorable. and emotional.

a couple of nights ago, i couldn't sleep because of a bad storm - my windows are pretty lousy, and the wind made an enormous racket. i lay awake for about two hours, holding wesley close and fighting to find slumber again... but i also had a lot on my mind, and the coincidence of storms within and without left me sleepless.

since then my sleep's been quite shallow. (i know this because elements of "the west wing" have snuck in, which means i could hear the dvds playing on my laptop.) i've decided to avoid naps from now on because they leave me grouchy and throw off my clock even more.

last night, i dreamt that a bunch of us were being held at gunpoint in my parents' house. i managed to sneak away and kept trying to call 911 as i ran down the snowy road toward the main street. i misdialed. my fingers fumbled, my cellphone locked. it rang and rang and no one picked up. i begged the people i passed to get help, but they waved me off.

i was simply overcome with helplessness and anxiety. how overcome? well, this morning i found mystery bruises. also, one of my teeth is slightly chipped. my desire for genuine rest is taking a turn for the desperate.

she's talking in her sleep -
it's keepin' me awake,
and anna begins to toss and turn,
and every word is nonsense, but i understand...
~ counting crows, "anna begins"

c is for clueless

there's been a bug going around and as a result i've had lots of bonus shifts at work. for instance, yesterday was my third straight overnight at charbonneau house. this one was planned at the very last minute and actually involved a bit of a morning shift the following day. the deal is that whoever's getting up with the core members for breakfast also takes the monitor for the night. basically, i can hear how nancy's doing and, at the touch of a button, can check on her. nancyvision!

i hadn't done this in a while, but when i lived at charbonneau it was my turn at least twice a week. so, obviously, i'm a pro.

as planned, i woke up for the 7am pee and went to wake nancy. she was reluctant, as usual, but followed me to the bathroom. when we were done there, i brought her back to her room, assuring her that someone would wake her up in the morning. she settled back on her (new!) bed and i returned to mine. before i tucked my groggy self in, i went to reset the alarm for my real wakeup, around 7:30. which was when i finally looked at the time.

it was 1:30am.

apparently, it wasn't my alarm that had woken me up! i'd just woken up on my own, assumed the alarm had gone off, and went along with the routine!

a hundred thoughts ran through my mind: "did i just dream that?! 'cause sometimes i daydream within dreams, and this could be one of those times... no, i'm pretty sure that really did just happen!!! what if she can't fall back asleep?! it's ok, we have some her sedative on standby! too bad we don't have a protocol for when assistants have sleep disturbances! should i still get her up again at 7 and then *again* at 9?! oh, also: are you stupid?!" though i was ducking and weaving, eventually sleep hit me.

fast forward to 7:30: i was packing up my stuff when i heard a thud downstairs. i hit the button on the monitor and *poof!* nancy wasn't there! jogging down the stairs, i wondered why her door alarm hadn't gone off. answer: houdini was sitting on the floor. just chillin'. i joined her in playing it cool, and pretended this was her normal 7am interlude from sleep. it all worked out fine, and she went back to sleep for nearly 2 hours. so forgiving!

in my life there have been plenty of nights when i woke up multiple times, worried that i might oversleep. before tests, trips, work. this was certainly the first time i assumed it was morning already.

what a way to (false) start the day!

edited to add:

first of all, given the dreams i forecast in my last post, i think my 1:30am adventure may have been rum-induced!

secondly, i wrote to my mom about all this, and this was her reply:
very funny! i hope you're not too worried about it. it can happen to anyone... remember how i once woke up in the middle of the night, tried to warm some milk in the microwave, and set the time starting with 416? or the night when i went for a glass of water, placed a cup under the light switch, and waited patiently?

hmmmm

i dreamt it last night. that thing that will never ever happen in real life.
you made a decision, and it was the right one. then we both made life decisions that made it even more right.
we wouldn't have been happy.
sometimes i think that, at least, we would have been less lonely. but is there anything lonelier than being with someone who can't understand you?

it's strange to know it'll never happen. not sad. just... very strange. because, you see, never seems like an awfully long time.

i wish you love.

wonder six

i couldn't figure out what we were reading. the more i tried to grasp at details, the more they slipped away. all i remember clearly is that i raised my hand and reflected: "wisdom seems to be about unity, more than anything else. that's counterintuitive, because my view of a sage isn't that far from my view of a hermit. more than that, i feel like wisdom alienates you from society: you end up weeping in a dark corner by yourself. but this text suggests that wisdom draws us into community and communion with others."

wisdom is an enigma to me. maybe that's why i dream about it. i took a course on psalms & wisdom once, and we talked about hokmah and its definition... but that seems to fall short now. in "blue like jazz" don miller describes a moment when it felt like something true and beautiful had hit the table with a thud. that's what wisdom feels like to me. and, even though i have no clue where this idea came from, i'm beginning to see that my thirst for wisdom should lead me into community, into conversation with the world around me. here's some of what i'm hearing:

i went down to frwy to have a hummus sandwich, drink tea, and work on my senior paper. a few hours later, a vocal coach and four of her students had a concert on the little platform of the coffee house. one of the vocalists was retired; she'd dreamed of being a singer for years and years, and was finally in a position to follow her dream. she was a charming lady - forgetting the lyrics here and there - and she sang a song that has always brought tears to my eyes.

"what good is sitting alone in your room? come hear the music play..."

i watched this woman who had deferred her dream for so long... she was glowing. and it was like one day she had finally found the courage to be who she had always wanted to be.

when brian melo was reflecting on being in the final two in this year's canadian idol competition, he said, "this is something i've been dreaming about since i was a kid. the fact that it's happening makes me think that my heart wasn't lying to me."

my heart wasn't lying to me.

some things just feel right. and it's like your whole self is on board: you aren't constantly plagued by doubts, there are no dead butterflies in your tummy. it's born of a real desire for goodness and beauty and celebration and self-sacrifice. you know your conscience is clear, your motives are pure. it's not about selfish ambition or shallow achievement. the difficulties that come your way are real, and painful, but they pale in comparison with the prize. it feels like if you don't pursue this vocation, this skill, this virtue, this relationship, this work of art, this mountain, this truth, with all you have, you'll just dissolve into nothingness. it feels like this is what you're meant for.

may we all discover that, in those times, our hearts aren't lying to us.

there are endless stories about finding your voice... and with it the courage to let your voice ring out in joy, in mourning, in doubt, in trust, in truth. let's search together.

it's never too late to become what you might have been.
~ tag-line for "away from her"

o me! o life!... of the questions of these recurring;
of the endless trains of the faithless - of cities fill'd with the foolish;
of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than i, and who more faithless?)
of eyes that vainly crave the light - of the objects mean - of the struggle ever renew'd;
of the poor results of all - of the plodding and sordid crowds i see around me;
of the empty and useless years of the rest - with the rest me intertwined;
the question, o me! so sad, recurring - what good amid these, o me, o life?

answer.
that you are here - that life exists, and identity;
that the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
~ walt whitman

what good is sittin' alone in your room?
oh, come hear the music play,
life is a cabaret, old chum,
come to the cabaret!
put down that knittin',
the book,
and the broom,
it's time for a holiday!
life is a cabaret, old chum,
so come to the cabaret!
~ "cabaret"

ten-minute dreams

before this river
becomes an ocean
~ faith, george michael

been having some funny between-snooze-button-slams dreams . . . one involved my having gorgeous hair which - shocker! - i do. but, seriously: that human imagination is enough to make me believe in intelligent design. i don't just believe it because they tell me to. fyi.

in other news, i'm happy. and if that isn't an exciting update, i no know what is. it doesn't take care of the whole world, but it helps a wee bit.

morgan's face makes me sad, i drew a puppy in a cape ('cause i'm a girl), and i heart you all.

un bon reve . . . for a change!

i've been having disturbing dreams, stressful dreams, lately. last night was wonderful, therefore, because it not only offered a break from the disturbingness, but spoke to me. i'll cut to the chase, though there's more to it than this (including a very bizarre diet vanilla coke episode):

as part of an audition for a job (!!!), i had three seconds to prepare a devotional for teens . . . on the subject of true love. so i started in: today we're going to talk about a story most girls are excited to find in the Bible . . . a love story. but before we get going on the story of ruth, let's pray. Father, i know we're just doing this for auditions, but i pray that You would illuminate Your word and that we could learn from this passage. let my words flow from Your heart. amen.

i began telling the story of ruth - more from her perspective than naomi's - all the while wondering what my point was going to be. i paused to decide whether i should go into the whole bit about "even if i took a husband tonight, would you wait for my son to be of age?" . . . it involved explaining some of the customs of the time, and might get lengthy. i went over it briefly. when i got to the end, i reflected back. we so often remember ruth for her boldness - for uncovering boaz's feet and basically throwing herself at him . . . but i didn't want to talk about that. ruth's true love didn't begin with boaz. it began with naomi and with God, when she vowed to stay close to them.

it's dangerous to read about people's lives - in or out of Scripture - and think 'if i just do what she did, i'll get the same result.' in this case, 'if i'm a devoted friend, and promise to follow God, i'll find my boaz!' God doesn't operate that way. ruth didn't make her decisions based on the best strategy for getting a man. quite the opposite. naomi made it clear that she had no sons to offer, and israel wasn't the ideal place to snag a husband - at least, not for a moabitess. most jewish men wouldn't touch her, because she wasn't one of them! ruth had no expectations of marriage or kids - she came for naomi, because she truly loved her; and she came for God. that's important.

how many of us have made decisions based on guys? how to dress in the morning, or which path to walk around the school, or which stories to tell when he's around? ruth didn't work on that: she focussed on loving and caring for naomi. she wasn't looking for a date qwhen she started gleaning in boaz's fields, either. she was doing her best to provide for her family. and she found so much more than grain.

i'm not saying that caring about marriage or thinking about guys is silly or evil, but don't tell yourself that you won't have true love 'til your boaz comes along. that's a lie: ruth had true love with naomi and she had it with God - potentially at the expense of romance. remember, though, this isn't a formula: God is not a means to an end, and neither is love. besides, as i said, there are no guarantees. you can be a ruth for the rest of your life and never find your boaz. what's certain is this: boaz-types never settle for less than a ruth. and vice-versa.

God's never spoken to me in a dream before . . . i thought that was pretty cool. maybe someone else needed to hear this, too?