Megan's Blue

Summer

2009-06-08T08:01:00.000-07:00

Oh.

Its summer now. I have nothing to do. This isn't true. But I am finding it difficult to be honest these days. I actually have more to do than I can possibly imagine. However this summer was supposed to be different. I wasn't supposed to have this summer all to myself like I now do. So as I stare down the months ahead and hold myself in my hands I feel a bit at a loss. I spent the weekend grieving the loss of my imagined summer. Now here I am on Monday and I need to begin.

But how shall I begin? I've been here before, so many times that I would suppose that it would feel natural to have my summer to myself. Instead it feels lonely and isolating. I have to go out and rebuild my life as a single woman. I hadn't been other for very long, so really it shouldn't be that hard to remember how to be this person. And there is the hope that I could always be better than I was with all I have learned in the past year.

These are lessons I didn't want to learn.

Through

2008-05-14T20:48:00.000-07:00

Recently the word "through" has stood out to me. I like how it describes a process, with a beginning and more importantly an end. I like how it evokes the same image in my mind every time I read it.
Through is the way I am saved. Jesus saves me now through the work on the cross. I do not go by him, or under him or near him. I somehow go through him and am redeemed. I am active in the process and so is he. I must move, he must save.
And it is his joy to save.
I think this has been striking me more recently because I've begun to view the work I am doing in counseling as a process. This is a forum for Christ's healing through my memories and trauma. By working through all of this shit I hope to be born as whole. When the memories come they rise through my body. I often feel the fear and terror before I remember it. As it rises it begins in my stomach. I was nauseous for months this year. Then the feeling passes to my head as irrational thoughts, and to my heart as palpitations. When the memory fully surfaces it leaves my body, usually with tears. Then I feel somewhat normal again and wait. Another memory always surfaces and I push through the process again. But as each memory passes through me I learn some truth and rebuke some lie. That is what I crave.
"He chose to give us birth through words of truth, that we may be a kind of firstfruits of all he created."

Under the Burden

2008-05-07T17:54:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while all I want is for people to know what I know. I want for friends who agree that the Philip Stark chairs at Pinkberry are ridiculous without having to explain who he is exactly.

Really I just want friends who know what I'm talking about all of the time regardless of how obscure I'm being.

I realize this is unrealistic.

My friend and I were waiting outside of the taco stand that Julia Childs made famous last summer and this woman started chatting with us. We were talking about the best taco places in LA and about how great her daughter was. She was forty-ish and super stylish; tattoos, hip haircut, Toms shoes, and the coolest ring. It was like a small gold crown that turned out to be her wedding band. Her husband had made them. After telling me about it she smiled ruefully and commented that her husband had designed the rings before Todd Oldham had made them popular and I knew exactly what she meant.

I do love my friends for who they are, and if I really wanted friends who knew what I was talking about most of the time I would not feel as cool as I do. And I know there is an infinite gulf between one person and another. And that this chasm cannot be crossed by simply talking about stuff and things.

Yet there are still days where I want a friend who speaks every permutation of my private language, who can track with my ramblings about webcomics and books and music and humor. and after tracking just go, "I know, right?"

Oh well.

And

2008-05-06T18:11:00.000-07:00

I need to add to the list of things that could incite the world into peace.

3) Tortilla soup. The best I've ever had id a Guasalmex over on Holt. There may be other places that make as good a or better Tortilla Soup. God Bless Them. This soup may have been the only thing my ex-boyfriend and I agreed on. He liked it so much me went home and tried to make it from Campbell's tomato soup. The soup is made fresh each day (this is what the owner says at least, in his best "I'm telling you something very secret and important" tone) from fresh chickens that are stewed with spices and onions until they fall apart. When we asked what they did next we were refused. Whenever I feel sad or angry or lonely or sick this soup cures and comforts. I wish I has a picture to show you just how amazing it is.

So

2008-05-02T19:40:00.000-07:00

Here is a short list of the things that could bring world peace.
1)The pie Sara made tonight. It had an Oreo cookie crust and chocolate filling. She served it with fresh whipped cream and a raspberry sauce I made. All any of us could do after taking the first bite was grin. Please note that this pie would be most effective after a meal of vegetable curry, rice and beer.
2)The chair at Emily's apartment. Whenever there is a gathering at the Emily's house the chair is the only piece of furniture that is fought over. I have been known to call dibs on it from my car. It is impossible to feel stress in this chair. Its comfort is endless.

This is all I can remember at present. The list used to be quite long, but all in my head.

Unintentional

2008-04-28T20:39:00.000-07:00

Last week I was gripped by an urge to use the rest of my emusic downloads to get some Dar Williams songs. I was in love with her in college, but had felt vaguely ashamed of this since I moved to California. Sometimes I suffer from the burden of coolness and its a heavy one. On to the point! Hearing her songs again after so many years made me realize how much her music had to do with my faith. Her music isn't explicitly Christian, but her music is incredibly honest about herself. Her honesty encouraged me to be authentic with myself which in the end led to being authentic with Christ. It began to make me wonder what other people or things had unintentionally shaped my faith life.
Unintentional Disciplers :
1) Ms. Baird my sixth grade teacher who taught me to be unafraid. She was the first single woman I met who lived in Seattle with a roommate. I loved her for that independence.
2) The song "Baby Blue Sedan" by Modest Mouse taught me that "its hard to be a human being, its harder as anything else".
3) "Heartburn" by Nora Ephron drove home the hard truth that even if I am good other people may not be good to me. I can't earn love, least of all God's. This lesson came only after reading this book about 100 times in high school. I carried it around with me like a security blanket my whole senior year.
4) Jack White taught me that God is the essence of creativity so in art all we create should be in the image of our creator.
5) "Northern Exposure" stressed that you need to open up to people and invite them into your life. Also that you can never really leave your home. Oh and about love's selflessness.
6) Aimee Mann in all her work instilled in me the value of accepting the junk you are given and how to move through it.
7) Emily of New Moon and Opal Whiteley taught me about the sacredness of the mystical and natural world.
8) Mr. Ries, my coworker, is the essence of servant leadership.
9) George Tooker.

14th of April

2008-04-13T19:28:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is Ruination Day.
Awful things are happening every moment of every day, but April 14th seems to have had more than its fair share.
On this day in American History:
1. Abraham Lincoln was shot.
2. The Titanic struck an iceberg
3. Black Sunday, the worst storm of the dust bowl hits Oklahoma.
I know it is all coincidence, but I will choose to spend this day reflecting over the nature of tragedy and loss. And how random it is. And how terrible. And how sad. But also how it makes me slow down and reflect upon the nature of God and his grace to have kept me safe so far in my life. It is a mystery.

Everything's a Miracle

2008-01-10T21:24:00.000-08:00

Or nothing is right? I said Am I Right?
(mood: punchy)
I am a person who sees the small actions in my day to day life as miracles simply because I can. I grew up living in various imaginary worlds, waiting for the veil between this world and the mystical one that lay beyond to lift so I could go to my true home. Some days I still look for the seam.
Fortunately for me Christians believe in miracles. The unexplained, fantastical, and wondrous are supposed to exist for us. So I re frame the normal everyday things that happen to me as miracles. My hope is that if I have faith in the small I will one day see the grand.
So my miracle today was Anne. I knew in the morning that choosing to pack salad dressing was a lost cause. Somehow I was going to loose my balsamic vinaigrette and, having no desire to eat a dry salad, use the cafeteria's watery ranch instead. As all life is a risk, I took the vinaigrette anyways. During lunch I was opening the dressing container while talking to coworkers (awful idea). Opening the container towards me was also not the smartest. I spill food on myself constantly. Once a friend in college asked, in all seriousness, if I had any clothes that were not stained. The spillage of the dressing was magnificent. It cascaded from my navel to my toes and pooled on the floor around me. I was stupefied and my coworkers (Gold Bless them) hurried to clean up the mess. Anne, one of our aides, offered to run home and get me some clothes. She is also tall like me, but skinny where I have been compared to both a horse and an elephant. I told her it was alright, I am a size 14, and couldn't possibly, oh. Her daughter is a size 14 as well. So she brought me clothes. The best part of my day was taking off the stinky vinegar soaked clothes to put on clean ones.
Her generosity was a miracle to me. She took off her whole lunch to go home and bring me clothes. She saved me from having to suffer from embaressment the whole day, which I was fully expecting to do (kids have no mercy and think adults are immune to pain). And really not having to smell was such a blessing. Later when I put the clothes in the wash the stink really hit me. Thank God I didn't have to wear that smell. Thank God for small miracles and wonderful kindness. Thank God for Anne.

Shame

2008-01-06T20:14:00.000-08:00

Shame is a really useful tool in dealing with kids. I read once that its because children don't automatically have a conscience. Shame is used to help children determine what is right and wrong as they grow. They learn to establish limits with others and in our world. Often my twenties have felt like a second childhood, in that I am learning to navigate my world as an adult. I've found a desire to re-look at everything from what I like to eat to how often I feel deeply ashamed.
When I moved to Pomona one of my first realizations was that I didn't like cold cereal. I had never thought about it before in terms of a choice. I quickly decided that I hated it, and I never wanted to touch a soggy, wretched bowl of cornflakes again. That small decision (which I didn't stick to) made my whole being feel more solid and real. I noticed that as I continued to make decisions as an adult I could feel my person more fully.
This past week I've spent time reexamining shame. Shame caught me by surprise. I finished a book about slavery in the United States today and I instantly felt ashamed that I was a teacher, educated, and well-off. I wanted to write letters to the Coalition of Immokalee workers and beg forgiveness for my selfishness. I knew without a doubt that I would be the first against the wall when the revolution came. The shame began to spread. I felt that how I have lived my life thus far was very wrong, that my choices (being single, living with a family, teaching, ministry, Pomona) had been misguided and foolish. I was bad. I would do whatever I had to do, just so I could feel like I was good again. Was this how I felt as a kid? I don't remember.
I wrestled with shame for the rest of the day. In the end I came to my usual conclusion; my life is weird. I feel bad about that sometimes, but like the cereal I made the choices I made for a reason. The cereal was gross, I threw it out. I asked Jesus for a life where following him was the focus. So everything else flows from that. So the normal (getting married, having kids, house, suburbs) may never happen, and if it does it has to come through Him. Weird. And I'm learning to not be ashamed of that.

Favorite(s)

2007-12-17T20:51:00.000-08:00

Bands:
1. Lavender Diamond because they are a true neo-hippie band that preaches love and peace.
2. Danielson, though I know his music is so weird I can't help but to love his theology.
3. St. Vincent who rocks hard and is incredibly girlie.
4. Andrew Bird writes playful lyrics that blend with sublime melodies. Thank you. Thank you.

Comics:
1. We the Robots, like "We the People" except better.
2. The Non-Adventures of Wonderella is what happens when ignorance, super powers and alcoholism collide.
3. Kate Beaton is wonderfully funny though she is a complete nerd.

WebSites:
1. Goodreads allows me to foist my opinion about books on others.
2. Etsy allows me to purchase the unecessary directly from the crafter of the item.
3. Daytrotter interviews the most indie of indie bands than provides free podcasts.

Television:
1. Pushing Daisies. Fairy-tale fantasy is highly addictive.
2. Flight of the Conchords kept me sane this summer. God bless all those who posted the new episodes on YouTube.

Singles:
1. Pots and Pans by Les Savy Fav. The concept of the song, a band that is so bad they are a test to the people, is better than the actual song though the song is still great.
2. This Year by The Mountain Goats. On the day before my birthday I played this song non-stop. Mainly for the line "There will be feasting and dancing in Jerusalem next year."

Movies:
1. Once. I loved the small solemness of this film.
2. Juno. Far better than I hoped. Good use of Kimya Dawson's songs.
3. Danielson, a Familie Movie. This documentary did a wonderful job at looking at all parts of this artist's life.

Books: Reviews are on my Goodreads page.
1. Housekeeping
2. The Mozart Season
3. The Cartoon History of the Modern World

Moments:
1. Driving my brother's now sold Cabriolet convertible with my dad.
2. Getting the AMOCA flier for the George Ohr show.
3. Driving away from a horrible production of Hamlet at the Hollywood Cemetery
4. Teaching my reading class what a plith is.
5. Seeing the Danielson movie.
6. Watching Jesus Camp while baking a cheesecake and wearing rhinestone earrings that would do my Great Grandma proud.
7. Reading "God Went to Beauty School" to my befuddled church.
8. Finding out Angela's baby was born on my birthday.
9. Watching Crow do the elf dance.
10. Reading chapter 10 in Housekeeping.
11. Hearing my students say "Ms. Krogh I recognize that painting!" at the Getty.
12. Taking Gaby and Lorena to the beach.
13. Going to the Seattle Sculpture Garden with my mom.
14. Getting tipsy with Mark at Michelle's goodbye party.
15. Painting my bathroom lavender tan.
16. Getting head-butted by Eli.
17. Coloring with Syd.

Good

2007-12-12T21:17:00.000-08:00

I got word today that my old coworker is pregnant. This is good.
A little background:
My first year of teaching was atrocious for two reasons. One being that I am not suited to teaching Kindergarten. The second lay mainly in my working relationship with this woman. She was very particular about how everything must be done, from where the scissors went to making sure the crayon cups were in the right order. While she was upfront about how picky she was, she was also completely inflexible and made it clear I was the one who was going to have to change. I like to think her private motto for me was "That's nice you want to do it that way Megan, but adjust or die."

Once she bribed my students with candy. Both classes were there because it was a short day. My kids were sitting at the tables, talking and giggling as they got ready to go home. Hers were being angels on the rug. So, to make a point, she told my kids if they were quiet during dismissal she would give them all candy. It worked beautifully, my loud awful kids were quiet and got candy. I got her not so subtle point.

As the year progressed our relationship got worse. Soon we didn't communicate with one another directly. She would comment on what I was doing wrong, (being messy, not helping enough, not teaching the correct content) to other teachers, parents and students, often while I was standing there. One time I walked in while she was on the phone. She looked at me and then said "She's just not being helpful at all." in to speaker. I began to understand what it meant to hate someone. Her anger terrified me and my fear was magnified by the fact that I felt like a failure in the classroom.

She was a Christian. That meant we should have been treating each other better than we were. I should have been able to apologize for my actions and she would have forgiven me. I remember trying once and how she had brushed me off, far too little far too late. So at a loss I decided to pray for her. She was mine enemy.

She was newly married and wanted to start having kids right away, but she was older and so was her husband. Having kids might be difficult for them. While I knew I was being asked to pray for this part of my heart was really reluctant. She had been so awful to me and was so picky. She would not make a good mom. But that wasn't my call to make. I was simply told to pray. I've been praying for her since I left in 2005 and when I got word today that she is expecting I felt forgiven of my anger and hatred and rage.

Seeing Dave

2007-12-11T18:28:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to see Dave Bazan at the Glass House. Right now he is going through a crisis of faith, and that figured in heavily to all of performances. Much of what he expressed was either fear of the separation this is causing between him and his wife or his general disdain for a God that has the audacity to send people to hell. I understand from the Inland Empire Weekly article published last week that he has decided he no longer needs Jesus and has rejected hell. Which makes perfect sense. Why would you need Jesus to save you if you do not believe in hell? Really the two theological concepts are tied together.

I feel his plunging into doubt is very brave. These questions he is asking about God and the nature of Christ are ones I simply can't ask. Dave has clearly been hurt by the actions of Christians. He mentioned that God seemed to historically be on the side of the white majority culture. I can see how he came to that conclusion. I also see the many ways in which God's Spirit today seems to be more active in emerging world countries. In contrast I also feel he is full of fear. In my (biased) opinion anyone who rejects the idea of a compassionate God who loves, forgive, accepts and redeems has to have some level of self-loathing that is based in a type of fear of knowing ones true self. But that belief is based in the idea that through my relationship with Christ I know myself better.

Dave's level of self-knowledge is profound as is his understanding of how this change in his belief system affects his life, family and friends. His decision is in no way flippant or careless. He was completely honest about this being painful. Which I guess puts in my heart a deeply felt respect. He is willing to look doubt in the face. He is not a man of shallow faith (he does have faith, in what I'm not sure). And I would rather listen to the music of a man who is honest and struggling than the pop-y sounds of 100 Contemporary Christian musicians.