Jenga!

I'm realizing that I am a lot like a Jenga game. Seemingly stable and put together, there are only so many pieces you can pull (or questions you can ask or topics you can touch on) before a piece is finally pulled and out comes me - loud, long-winded, verbal processing Italian me.

Funny thing is, the pulled piece that finally "does me in" is the same size as all the others. Nothing special about it. No great thing. Just the last thing. The last piece that can be pulled before "me" comes out.

*Sigh*

Consider yourself warned...

Conquering beautifully.

"...remind then that while we wait we may all work, so that these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so beautifully that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women." -Letter from Father, Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

To do my duty faithfully, fight my bosom enemies bravely and to conquer myself beautifully... sounds like a good thing to aim for!

In but not of...

What does it look like? How does it work?

Was it all damn worth it?

Two in a day... I know.

But for good reason!

Following is an excerpt from an article whose link is posted below. Thought it might be of interest.

"For the truth is, once you have ceased being single, you suddenly discover that all that energy you spent propelling yourself toward an independent existence was only going to be useful if you were planning to spend the rest of your life as a nun or a philosopher on a mountaintop or maybe a Hollywood-style adventuress who winds up staring into her empty bourbon glass four years later wondering if it was all damn worth it. In preparation for a life spent with someone else, it wasn’t going to be helpful."


The Cost of Delaying Marriage : http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0001135.cfm
Defending "The Cost of Delaying Marriage" : http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0001145.cfm

Bleeding Love.

I often will get scraps of songs stuck in my head on repeat. If it is a song I don't know I've found that it helps to look up the lyrics and read through them. For some reason it stops the track from playing on repeat.

Today I had a few lines of a song stuck in my head. I recognized it as a popular refrain but I had never really heard the song. I googled the words that were replaying over and over and found that it was the song Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis. Curious, I read the lyrics.

Wow.

Ok, as a love song from a girl to a guy it is decent but as I read the lyrics I found my heart repeating these words to the One who caused my dead heart to beat again and my unseeing eyes to look on Beauty.

I've been accused of reading into things too much. I smile quietly at such accusations. I don't think I read into things too much, I just read them with a different lens at times.

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Closed off from love I didn't need the pain
Once or twice was enough and it was all in vain
Time starts to pass before you know it you're frozen

But something happened for the very first time with you
My heart melted into the ground - found something true
And everyone's looking 'round thinking I'm going crazy

But I don't care what they say I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

Trying hard not to hear but they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that their goal is to keep me from falling

But nothing's greater than the rush that comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness I see your face
Yet everyone around me thinks that I'm going crazy
Maybe, maybe

But I don't care what they say I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

And it's draining all of me - oh they find it hard to believe
I'll be wearing these scars for everyone to see

I don't care what they say I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open and I Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love

--Leona Lewis

Broken Heart and Clenched Fist.

I just got back from a high school football game. I love football games. I love the energy of the fans. The determination of the players. Pretending I know what is really going on and really just cheering when everyone else is cheering.

This game however wasn't so much fun. The team played well (from what I could tell in my limited knowledge). It was beautiful weather. I had my camera. All good things. But I found it hard to enjoy myself as my heart broke to pieces within me and my fists grew tight from clenching.

The culture.

The culture I was surrounded by was seeped, saturated, basted and marinated in sex. It was e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. In the clothes (or lack thereof), in the walks, in the cheerleaders (no surprise there - except for the fact that they were 12 and 14), in the body language, in the conversation, in the coarse joking. I was grappling with the same sensations I get whenever I go to a bar or club- unable to remain focused on the masks, the facades, I can't help but see past the painted smile to the dark despair and increasing confusion beneath. Intense sorrow coupled with Sicilian anger. Not at the kids - they're just kids! Even those who think they know what they're doing have very little clue as to what game they're playing. No, when I think about the kids, the girls especially, that is when my heart breaks. Physical pain.

It's when I think about the culture, the lies, the ones propagating this... this... *hard swallow* stuff that I find my throat constricting and my knuckles whitening. It is when I consider the enemy that is having free play with the blind and the deaf and the dumb that I get angry. Vengeful. Defensive.

I hope it is a righteous anger. Or at least more like it than not. I hope that I am able to keep the anger directed towards those who deserve it rather than take aim at the crippled captives the enemy hides behind.

Oh Lord, what would you have me do? My heart cries out to You that You would somehow use me, a broken vessel, to reach out to those who are in the dark, stumbling, falling. Why should Your Grace extend to me if I can't in turn extend it out to others?

The lump in my throat is unable to be formed into words. Know the cry of my heart, Father. Know the desire of my being. To know You. To make You known.

Help.

Solitude.

I haven't been alone for any amount of time since May. This is not good for a closet introvert like myself. Not good at all.

I'm numb. I have a stack of things to process that is taller than my stack of places I want to go and I don't foresee anytime in the near future for me to chip away at it.

I'm in definite need of "plunking." A week at a beach somewhere might do it.

Trail Blazing.

By Eileen Putman

WASHINGTON (AP) -- A shocking trend is gaining ground in teen dressing: modesty.

Teens model at the 2008 Pure Fashion Show.

Here's an example: Last summer, my 13-year-old daughter needed a dress to attend a friend's bat mitzvah.

What we found was a black concoction with a neckline so low that my condition for buying it was a fill-in-the-gap black undergarment. She wasn't happy about it, but complied.

This June, for her eighth-grade graduation, my daughter debated between a slinky blue dress with a plunging neckline -- more lounge singer than middle schooler -- and a flowery cotton print that was strapless but not low-cut.

After much consultation with her friends, she opted for the strapless and decided to top it with a sedate, white cardigan sweater.

What had happened to teen dressing in those intervening 10 months?

Layering. The economic downturn. Traction from an entrenched parents' backlash against highly sexualized looks for their daughters. Oh, and fashion's do-or-die need to throw something new at the gigantic but fickle teen/tween market as quickly as you can say "MySpace" or "Facebook."

I like the result: too-revealing camisoles and tank tops now paired with a covering hoodie or graphic T-shirt. Dresses topped by '50s-ish cardigans or shrugs. Vintage '70s-ish pieces picked up cheaply at thrift shops.

Also, layered items are interchangeable and can be put together in different ways, so I think (hope) we're saving money.

Money is the name of the game for retailers, too, especially in the current economic climate. Apparel sales for the 13-to-17-year-old set were nearly $30 billion for the 12 months ending May 2008, according to market researcher NPD Group's consumer tracking service. Add "tweens" and near-tweens -- 7-to-12-year olds -- and college-age kids -- 18-to-24 -- and that figure soars to nearly $70 billion.

Overall, sales are increasing only slightly. Department stores are struggling to compete with discounters like Wal-Mart and specialty merchants like Hollister, Abercrombie & Fitch, PacSun, Aeropostale and American Eagle Outfitters -- which typically feature darker lighting and throbbing music to welcome teens.

And with the economy in a downturn, many teens had trouble getting summer jobs and have less to spend.

"We're in a very challenging time period," said Allison Levy, merchandise manager for menswear and childrenswear at the Doneger Group, which advises major stores on what fashions to buy. "We have to work harder to get them in the door and satisfy them. ... It's about capturing their attention."

That's done not just with colorful clothes in stores in malls where teens congregate, but also on the Internet, where they gravitate for social networking -- and fashion chitchat -- at sites like MySpace and Facebook. Teens also pre-shop online. My daughter, for instance, will check out Delias.com before she drags me to the store, her favorite place to buy skinny jeans.

The Internet also means that new fashion trends -- whether driven by music or by TV shows like "Gossip Girl" and "Hannah Montana" -- spread with almost viral speed and intensity. That feeds into tweens and younger teens' desire for their favorite celebrities' clothing brands, says Michael Stone, CEO of The Beanstalk Group, an authority on celebrity licensing who developed the Olsen twins' fashion brand when they were young TV stars.

"It's all media-driven," Stone said. "It's about girls seeing celebrities on TV shows, movie and concert tours and now they get to communicate about clothing on social networking sites. More communicating tools are available ... to spread the word about fashion a celebrity is wearing. That drives tween fashion."

In the emphasis on layering, many parents see a welcome trend that is long overdue.

"A lot of the very fashionable looks right now are very modest," said Brenda Sharman, national director at Pure Fashion, a Catholic-based organization that has put on modesty teen fashion shows in nearly two dozen U.S. cities. "It's almost a flashback to looking very demure and proper."

The group has long deplored the low necklines and sexy looks that have marked teen fashion, and they aren't alone. Last year, an American Psychological Association task force reported that cognitive performance and health can suffer when teens and young women make themselves into sex objects by wearing sexy clothing or styling themselves after sexy celebrities. Eating disorders, depression and low self-confidence can result.

Happily, there's evidence that the covered-up styles for teens might continue into next season and beyond.

At the spring Paris fashion shows, Stephanie Meyerson -- trend director for youth culture at Stylesight, a retail forecasting firm -- saw a definite "moving away from overtly sexual" in teen fashion, especially through layering and comfortable baggy looks.

"Girls are dressing for themselves, as opposed to dressing for guys," she said. "The guys might not like it but the girls are not wearing really tight shirts. They're covered up."

Covered up can mean put-together (think "Gossip Girl") or disheveled (a bit of Mary-Kate-and-Ashley grunge meets Amy Winehouse). And even that look can have sexual connotations.

"It's the one-night-stand look," Meyerson said. As in the disheveled morning after, clothes with a slept-in feel.

OK, so parents won't rejoice over that notion. But I'm rejoicing over anything that keeps my girl from looking like a lounge singer.

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I don't know how long this "trend" will last - but I'm excited about the possibilities. There are girls out there that are tired of the current cultural pathways. My heart is full in wanting to encourage them to "..not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." (Ralph Waldo Emerson.)

Ah Blogging, I've missed you...

...and for the record, I've missed journaling too.

I don't know how people live without journaling or blogging. How do they remember everything they've experienced, thought, learned and grown from? I'd have lost half of me by now if it wasn't recorded for me to go back over. I have lost parts of me, my past that has helped form me, by my poor consistency in journaling but I have a large part summarized and preserved. (Not always a glamorous thing to be sure.)

At the moment I want to record the fact that I am content. And excited. And hopeful. And tired. And a little achy. And tired. And happy to have this time with family. And sad about the loss of Aunt Deb. And content. And excited.

Yes, and now that it is recorded I can relax and stop thinking about it. It's actually kind of scary how much of a verbal processor I am. I should have a minion who can follow me around and record everything I say. No wait. That's a bad idea. I prefer to have the ability to edit what I save.

At this point I am in fact rambling. But it feels good to be rambling again with the click-clack-click of the keyboard keys beneath my fingertips and the bright blueish light of the computer screen reflecting back on my face. It is a similar feeling to a clean sheet of paper and a nice pen when I'm journaling.

Sigh.

I am content. And excited. Ah - I won't start that up again.

God is gracious. He is surrounding this family with His grace and peace during a truly gut-wrenching time. I'm glad that I'm here with my grandma, uncle, cousins and their kids. Ah my cousin's kids are fantastic! All boys, ages 5, 6, 8 and 9. They think I'm cool! I'm loving it.

God is good - so life is as well.

Hobbies.

Some people collect misery. I'm realizing this and it astounds me. Theirs, others, true, imagined - there are a variety of miseries to collect. And people who gather misery love to display their collections. In fact, its hard to get them stopped once they get started. So-and-so's daughter... a neighbor's father-in-law's son... this country... that people group... their childhood... on and on and on.

And if you get two or more misery collectors together they can sit for hours and show off their own collections while trading miseries with each other.

"Did you hear about so-and-so? *dramatic sigh*"
"No! Tell me!"
"Well.... yada, yada, yada."
"Really! Oh my word. That sounds like so-and-so from such-and-such-place. Something similar happened to them."
"Really? Tell me!"
"Well..."

And on and on it goes until they each walk away with increased collections as they can now tell each other's woeful tales of misery simply by adding, "Well, so-and-so told me that so-and-so..."

Everyone needs a hobby I guess.

The Day After

Have you ever been in a home the day after the funeral of the one that caused the structure of wood, brick and drywall to be called a home in the first place?

The day after the body, the empty shell, has been buried beneath six feet of cool, damp earth.

The day after the sympathizers, empathizers, comforters, mourners and gawkers have dried their eyes, ate their food and gone home.

The day after the house has been filled with beautiful, overbearingly fragrant arrangements that cause you to tear up from renewed grief at the sight of them, although the nose blowing has more to do with the abundance of pollen.

The day after the light of a family's eyes, the joy of their hearts and the strength they depend on has been officially and finally "laid to rest."

I don't mean to sound cynical or bitter - I promise I am not. But I'm realizing... as I experience for the first time this "day after" that I have never really before understood what this separation called "death" does to people the day after.

It is like someone ripped off your right arm. Yes, you get medical attention and yes it will heal. But to wake up the next morning and realize that life has "returned to normal" for everyone else and for you... it is only a vague semblance of "normal." Normal now has to be redefined because everything you knew and loved and took joy or comfort in was tied to, influenced by the heart, life, love and touch of one that is now separated from you. Life can go on without an arm - people survive without certain appendages. And life "will go on" without the vibrant heart that once lit it up. Without the laughter that lifted sorrow. Without the touch that soothed hurt. Without the smile that smirked at depression. Without the quiet wisdom that led, taught, admonished and encouraged.

Life will go on... but on this "day after" I have to wonder how.

Aunt Debbie, your light penetrated every sphere you entered; your life, every heart it came in contact with. I miss you.