Though justice charges me with guilt, Your grace will not refuse me.
Goal for tomorrow:
Live to serve others with humility, without expecting anything in return, and without complaining about it (even, or especially, within my own mind).
Philippians 2:1-11
My head is a mixed up jumble of thoughts. And my mind races too quickly from one to the next for me to put fingers to keys and have them come out in any coherent manner.
I care about people too much. I spend too much of my time worrying, both about my own situation and about other people.
But every day my heart aches for the people I care about. And I feel so helpless and sad because there's often nothing I can do to fix the situation.
I know my posts have become increasingly vague and sparse. People who know me in real life have started reading this page, and as such, I can't write exactly what I'm thinking most of the time. And coming up with something both neutral and interesting, of course, is nearly impossible.
I'm determined to stay on track this semester, even if it is too late at this point. So back to the grindstone goes my nose.
So, not only is my Epidemiology professor the head of the department here at UGA, but he also won't be teaching the class this week because he's overseas at a big international epidemiology conference.
This is going to be the coolest class ever.
Getting plugged in with the head of the department is going to be wonderful when I'm working on my MPH or trying to get approval to do stuff with the College of Public Health or need a letter of recommendation for CDC or something.
I shouldn't have enjoyed explaining the distinctions between the terms endemic, epidemic, and pandemic as much as I did. I'm a nerd. But at least I've found my passion, right? How many college kids can say that?
I wish I could be completely honest.
I'm sure most everyone feels this way sometimes, but it's been on my mind lately. I wish I had the guts to tell people exactly what I'm thinking without regard to what they'll think of me as a result.
Maybe it's the liquid courage coursing through my veins that's making me feel this way at the moment, but there are a couple of people to whom I would love to speak my mind.
I'd tell her that she should stop trying to be amicable and that I see straight through her lies.
I'd tell him that it's not going to be enjoyable, but that I promise he will survive and that no one will think less of him as a result.
I'd tell him that he really pisses me off sometimes, especially when he's just not thinking, but that that's most likely my own fault more than his.
I'd tell her that she's not worth the stress and heartache, and that she should just live her life without paying too much attention to the cloud of stupidity and heartbreak and mind games that follows her around.
I'd tell him that I still care about him a great deal. And that I'm not so sure I was wrong the first time.
And I'd tell him that he's being completely ridiculous concerning this whole situation, although that's not going to change his mind, of course.
I pride myself on being pretty open with my thoughts on a given situation, but I tend to self-edit far more than I like to admit. The opinions I give are truthful, but they are stated in a more subdued or non-confrontational fashion than they actually are.
Maybe someday I'll be able to tell someone the complete, honest truth without fear of repercussions. That's my hope, anyway.
I may have finally found what I've been looking for.
But, in true Stephanie fashion, I've also managed to jeopardize that find as well as make myself some enemies.
I find it poetic, however, that without such a mistake, I might never have reached the first realization.
If actions speak louder than words, then clearly I spent my summer worrying over nothing.
On the other hand, I'd really prefer I weren't speaking for my actions right now.
Spent a wonderful evening with my Becky... I've missed her so. We had the kind of heart-to-heart I never could have had with a friend in high school because no one would have understood. Got great big hugs from Leah's parents, who might as well be my own, along with instructions to come visit and hang out, even though Leah's still in Florida. And that's why her house was the place that I could get in my car and go, unannounced, when things were so bad with my parents, and always be welcomed with open arms and a plate of food. I am so grateful for Karen and Dave.
I also got to spend an evening with a bunch of band kids, a lot of whom I'd missed. I asked a lot of questions about how people's first years in college went, and I got almost no questions about Georgia. (I think the farthest I got was, "Oh, I love it! I love the South so much.") But I don't really mind. I don't mind listening to people talk about themselves. Most of the time, I'd rather do that than share about my own life. I did have a nice conversation with Christina about grades and having to learn how to study because we never had to in high school, even with rigorous schedules littered with Honors and AP courses at a school with as good a reputation as Milford's. It was bittersweet to know that I'll never get together with that particular group of people again; tonight really made me miss the dynamic that made being a part of the Milford band so great. However, I have plans to see the most important kids again before I leave.
Plans for the week and a half between getting back from the beach and leaving for Georgia for good:
I feel so much happier and more myself after tonight... I really needed it. Thank You.
I don't like to admit how much I need Him. But I depend on Him for everything, and I don't thank Him enough.
Thank You for tonight. Thank You for trips to the beach. Thank You for lifelong friends and for precious time with them. Thank You for parent figures who are there for me no matter what. Thank You for all that You have given me.
And thank You for allowing me to be in the state I love, with people I love. Thank You for new friends, for the people in which I can confide, for the people who understand. Thank You for the amazing opportunities I am afforded in Georgia, and thank You especially for the opportunity to study what I love and to continue the activity I love most: WGI. Thank You for Southern hospitality, for the many people who have opened their homes to me over the past year. Thank You for the weather and the red Georgia clay and the antithesis of everything in that frustrated post from so long ago about Ohio. Thank You for my beautiful baby and for the fact that she has gotten me economically and safely everywhere I have decided to go, and may that continue. And thank You for that special boy... he is fantastic, so witty and charming and kind. Besides... drummers are hot.
It's the thirteenth of the month, which means it's time for my grandfather's classic joke. He's always so proud of this one:
"This month, Friday the thirteenth came on Saturday!" He's always incredulous, or at least he pretends to be.
Just smile and nod, folks.
I'm going to stop telling people the story of yelling at my father in the middle of the Skyline in Blue Ash. (I apologize to the staff and patrons, and I understand if I am kindly asked not to dine there in the future.) But, basically, I keep getting blank stares from my audience whenever I get to the point of the story wherein I scream at my father that feelings have nothing to do with love. Apparently, that's not a very widely held opinion nowadays, even among my eighty-year-old grandparents.
But stick with me for a second. If you're married, go back and read your wedding vows, and if you're not, I'm sure you know basically what the typical, stock vows say. Yeah, there's that bit about "to love and to cherish, to have and to hold." But even that isn't really about how a person feels at any given moment. By definition, in taking a vow, you are making "a solemn promise, pledge, or commitment," according to dictionary.com. Furthermore, the second definition clarifies that a vow is "a solemn promise made to a deity or saint committing oneself to an act, service, or condition" (emphasis added). The third definition adds a public dynamic to a vow, "a solemn or earnest declaration" (emphasis added). Therefore, we learn several important things about the nature of taking a vow from these explanations. A vow is not something to be taken lightly, and it carries a great deal of weight and implies the intent of the person taking the vow to carry through with the promise or commitment he is making. Especially in the case of Christian weddings, the idea of a vow as a covenant between God and the vow-taker takes on monumental importance. Wedding vows are not promises made to another person, that person about to become one's spouse. They are promises between a person and God in regards to another person. It's a lot harder and, I would argue, a lot more serious to break a promise to God than to a person, even if that person is your spouse. And third, we learn that vows are made in public, and for what reason? I can think of a few. He who vows may be excited to tell the world of his decision, or he may be proud to have convinced his beautiful bride-to-be that he is "the one."
Or, maybe, the reason that such a solemn promise is made between the speaker and God, but in public and with one's family and closest friends present, is to add a degree of accountability. Most, if not all, of the people important in the lives of the bride and groom are present to witness the ceremony. The promises made by both sides are no secret, and there are many witnesses. Therefore, if one of the parties decides to back out on those vows, do not those who care about the person in question most have a right to speak up and remind the vow-taker of his promise?
Besides "to love and to cherish, to have and to hold," most participants in the typical Christian wedding utter such juxtapositions as "in sickness and in health" and "for richer, for poorer." No matter how many wrinkles appear on the face of one's aging spouse or how many trips to the hospital drain the joint bank account, those vows stand. And then, those most solemn words pave the way for the "I do"s to come: "'til death do us part." That's not "until something better comes along" or "until my feelings change" or "until my spouse is horribly disfigured in an accident." That is until death.
My parents, like many couples, read a famous passage from 1 Corinthians 13. You know the one: "Love is patient, love is kind," etc. Love does some interesting things in that passage. Love "always perserveres." Furthermore, "Love never fails."
"Always" and "never" are big words.
Therefore, in my view, once someone is married, his feelings fall to the wayside. The heart-fluttering, pulse-quickening feeling that may have caused the couple to realize that they are "in love" invariably deepens to a less exciting but more committed love. Love is a commitment, a decision. It is not a feeling. And the fact that one's feelings are changing is not a reason to move on to something better, but rather to recognize the changing stages of one's relationship.
So, no. I'm not just going to dismiss it lightly and "get over it" and "move on with my life" when you throw away something that I see as so sacred and so binding a promise. I don't support the decisions you've made, so why should I be expected to accept your lifestyle? I don't.
I've entertained your arguments and your ideas; they don't stand up to my scrutiny.
I've been thinking a lot lately about what constitutes personality.
I have to admit: a lot of that is due to my obsession with the television show House. So many of the cases Hugh Laurie's character works to diagnose on the show are based on what effect pathology can have on personality.
A classic case study in personality development is that of a man named Phineas Gage. I don't recall the details, but unfortunate Mr. Gage ended up with a railroad spike through the frontal lobe of his brain, which caused a pronounced and immediate change in his personality. The previously nice man turned nasty, constantly snapping at those closest to him.
A patient on House displayed the same symptoms earlier this season, though of course sans railroad spike, which would have made Dr. House's diagnosis profoundly more simple. The man constantly spouted off any thought that entered his head; it was as if he had lost his "filter." In the process, he alienated his daughter, jeopardized his job, and nearly ruined his marriage. He was willing to go to great lengths and undergo several highly risky procedures in an attempt to fix the problem, as he pointed out that he couldn't live his life with the personality changes.
The patient was a successful book editor who had built his career on a reputation as a brutally honest editor but a perfectly nice man. To paraphrase a conversation between Dr. House and another doctor, the man's true, less-than-glowing assessments of his life, his family, and his wife's job were now revealed. But if he built his reputation as a nice person, wasn't that as much a part of who he was as the thoughts he kept to himself?
The episode is called "The Social Contract," which highlights another interesting issue that the show raises. Dr. House refuses to adhere to the "social contract," which is why he comes across as such a jerk. He gives his precise opinion, he says what he means, and he doesn't mince words. Most everyone else, as he is quick to point out to his best friend Dr. Wilson, will tell a lie to someone else as part of the "social contract." Anyone will reassure the Jewish doctor that his nose isn't too big, that it instead "suits his face." To tell the truth would violate the social contract, would hurt someone's feelings. And we can't have that.
In an older episode, we find that a woman feels her sick husband has made her a better person because he is so incredibly nice that it made her jealous, and so she changed to be more like him. At one point, the team decides that the man has neurosyphilis and that the lesions the disease has caused in his brain are the cause of his excessive kindness. This did not turn out to be the actual problem with the patient, but the doctors warned the man's wife that putting him on the medication to treat neurosyphilis might cause his brain to return to normal, resulting in personality changes.
How would you feel to know that the husband you're in love with is so kind and wonderful because a venereal disease has attacked his brain?
What constitutes real personality?
If you take antidepressants so that you are a happier and more pleasant person, have you changed something fundamental to who you are, or have you truly fixed what should be viewed as a problem? (Please don't give me heat about whether depression is a real illness for this statement; I've been down that road.)
At what point do we stop "fixing" things and trying to make everyone the same?
At what point have we changed something fundamental to a person's being?
Soon we'll be able to "fix" nearly anything we want with gene therapy.
At what point have we gone too far?
I'd like to find some common ground with those who oppose the legalization of rape. I mean, sure, it's preventing someone from controlling what happens to his or her own body, but surely we can find some common ground when it comes to the fact that people have needs! If you bought her dinner, she owes you, man!
Doesn't that sound absurd?
I don't want to find "common ground" when it comes to homicide. There is no common ground in that case. There is only whether homicide is legal or illegal.
He tries to sound noble, but our fearless king is full of hot air. And I find it truly frightening how easily he deceives America.
Recent Comments