My Lonely City

Well. As you may be aware, my next big thing is changing the theme of my blog. (And my other blogs, too – Lit in Progress which you should only visit if you’re feeling masochistic, and On Wanting More, which is my … devotional journal.)

My blogs now look different. Yes. But they are not yet the visions of loveliness I had hoped they would be. They all now use the web publishing system Mephisto – but I cannot take credit for this. My husband migrated them for me. (I’m picturing my fledgling blogs, flying with outstretched necks in a wavering V-shape, calling down derisive comments in a language no one understands…) And I’m kind of sitting here thinking … now what?

I don’t do programming. I took a Pascal class at a community college while I was in high school (concurrent enrollment, savior and bane of my scholarly sanity) and made – gasp! – a B, because I didn’t begin any of my programs until the day they were due, and I forgot about one of the tests, and … so I decided that it wasn’t for me. Because I slacked off similarly in every other class and got at least an A-. (This is me rolling my eyes. Can you see me?) I actually quite enjoyed the class, but … failed to pursue that line of study, as it were.

And that was several years ago, all I did was little dribbles of codespeak that looked things up and did simple calculations, and it was Pascal for crying out loud. So I’m not in the best of places from which to begin creating a design template.

What I’ve done: Besides piddling around on the internet wasting time? I’ve got my designs into html, using Dreamweaver. (Yes, cheating. Guilty. Lea’me-alone.) I’ve downloaded a few different themes that I like – almost, but not quite, as much as my own – and even taken a cursory look at their innards.

Which are clean and list-like, full of important-sounding chimera words like filedto and commentsblock textarea, and completely incomprehensible. Spaces, people. They have a purpose. So my first thought was, oh, I’ll just have a stare-and-compare between my little page and the template’s main css dealymabob, and Bob’s your uncle. (Side note: my husband actually has an uncle named Bob. This kind of freaks me out.)

Hah ha ha. Yeah. Right. Perhaps I’m thinking that by staring at them long enough they letters will start to rearrange themselves into some kind of recognizable syntax. Or perhaps I’m waiting for myself to lose interest. Neither has occurred.

What I need to do: Go through that article about creating a template again, and, erm, follow the directions.

Bah. I thought the point of this exercise was not to be bored?

I’m exhausted. I just spent an extremely intense week as a camp counselor at a children’s camp for kids who have been abused or neglected. Oh. My. God. I may be able to sift my thoughts into something coherent over the next few days or weeks, but there’s no chance tonight. So I’m going to talk about something else (or rather, something only loosely connected).

I spend a lot of energy and focus on things that don’t matter. Or rather, that don’t warrant the time that I spend on them. I need to focus on the things that _do_ matter: loving God with all my heart, my soul, my mind, and my strength; and loving others as I love myself. (And perhaps I need to work on taking care of, and loving, myself, too.)

I’m rapidly falling asleep. But I’m going to SLEEP IN tomorrow, so it’s okay. ^_^

So my Best Friend (at least since 8th grade, which seems like forever ago, so the term actually almost applies, scary as that is) has had a spot of trouble with snoopy out-laws lately. No need to go into the details (nor would I be at liberty to do so even if there was a need), but I got to thinking. I might as well be considerate and save any similar nosies some trouble, if they take a notion to snoop in my direction.

I drink, but I don’t smoke. I curse like a sailor, depending on the company. I don’t do any drugs that have not been specifically prescribed to me by a doctor, and I never have. Except for occasional speeding and an illegal u-turn or two, I have never broken the law. Unless you count jaywalking. I didn’t drink alcohol until I was twenty-one, even when I was in countries (Mexico and New Zealand) whose drinking-age laws would have permitted me to do so. The worst thing I have ever done was made out with a boy who was engaged – engaged! to someone else! what was I thinking?! – on the way back from my senior trip.

I didn’t have sex until after I got married. (Yes, really.) I have never cheated on my husband. I love him very much, and love sharing my life with him. Most of the time it’s easy to love him; sometimes I love him because I promised him I would. Marriage is harder than I thought it would be, but it’s also more rewarding.

I sometimes hate spending time with my family – immediate-ish and extended – because I feel we have very little in common. I spend time with them anyway, because it’s the right thing to do.

I love God but Christians piss me off. I’m a vegan, feminist social critic with dozens of radical, half-formed ideas and almost no-one to bounce them off of. I complain a lot about being lonely and having no-one to talk to, but I don’t seek out any new relationships because I’m a lazy fraidy-cat a lot of the time.

I volunteer. I tithe. I pray. I read the Bible semi-regularly, though not as often as I ought to. I try to understand how God wants me to apply what I read to the way I behave. What I keep coming back to is this: Treat others the way you want to be treated.

I tip. I sing loudly in the car by myself. I sometimes preach sermons to people who are not, physically, present with me. I pick up paper towels that bastards in public restrooms throw on the floor. (Sometimes.) I wear underwear when trying on swimming suits.

I have a concealed-carry permit (somewhere). I enjoy shooting bottles and targets, and I’m pretty good at it. I doubt I could shoot a person, though, because I don’t want to be shot. Even in self-defense.

Sometimes I carry insects and spiders outside when they get in; sometimes I kill them. I don’t feel guilty. My cats are both declawed – though I wouldn’t make that decision again.

I lost my first child this year – a missed miscarriage six weeks after conception, discovered around four weeks later. It tore my world apart. I’m getting used to the pieces floating around, and I’m not trying to fit them together yet.

I think too much. But I’m okay with it.

Satisfied?

Is here.

And, later: the second funniest is here.

Sorry for the delay; I’ve been on vacation in Galveston for the past week. More on that later.

I just wanted to give a quick note to let you know I’m not dead (or otherwise inconvenienced) and will be returning soon.

And as a temporary nugget: we went with Jared’s family to Chili’s yesterday for lunch. And our waitress, after taking my brother-in-law’s order, recommended a particular dish for him to try – at BJs. (A competing restaurant.) It was funnier in person.

I was going to send individual e-mails to everyone, but I realized I would just be writing the same thing over and over again. So how are you? Anything new and exciting? Keep me posted on what’s going on in your life. ~Christina (05/18/2007)

Hey Christina –

Things are pretty good. I miscarried our first baby three weeks ago, so they could be better, but there you go. I’ve just left one job (an administrative assistant for a Realtor in South Oklahoma City) and will be starting another – as a tech with Jared’s Dad’s telecommunications company, SKShemor – on Monday. I’m excited, but a little nervous, about that. Jared’s doing well & staying busy. His tag-printing business may be expanding later this year depending on how the state legislature rules on some pending temporary used car tag legislation. He’s not doing custom websites anymore, for the most part. We’re still on the board of CAM, helping prep for this year’s summer camps (the eighth year, can you believe?). I realized yesterday that I graduated high school six years ago. That was a jolt, rather; I’d thought I’d be … further along, you know? I’m not sure exactly what I expected from myself then, but I feel like I haven’t quite lived up to it, whatever it was. But things are good. I’ve become a vegan, which is something new and different (and I like new and different – I’m also finding that I like cooking, which is odder still). My closest friend since High School is moving to Texas with her fiance. And I’m thinking again, as I usually do when the weather starts warming up, about finding a hobby besides piddling on the internet and putting off doing dishes. How are things with you?

Yours,

Melissa

I’m in the office, and over the speaker the receptionist lets us know, “Mork the Plumber is on park 71 returning a call.” For some reason, I found this quite hilarious. I think he would make a great charachter. That’s nugget one.

Nugget two: Yesterday at church Pastor Ken said, “Without commitment, there is no meaning.” Chew, chew.

I got some beets when I went to the store last week. I’ve never eaten a beet in my life; they’re freaky weird when pickled, and I’d never had much experience with them fresh. So I got them intending to make soup; I found a recipe that didn’t have dairy in it, and I thought I’d give it a try. Well, a few days later, there I was with still unsouped beets, and no time to try it for lunch that day, but the desire to try something new nonetheless. So I juiced them.

And ended up looking somewhat vampiric, carrying around what seemed quite eerily to be a Pinnochio’s glass full of blood, staining the edges of my teeth so that I looked like a vampire bat with a day job. It was so much fun. Yes, the juice was actually pretty good, especially after I put some ice in it, but drinking it and looking at it was the best. I’m totally dressing up as Ms. Dracula for Halloween; I’ll have to go to Hot Topic and get a suitably gothic gown to wear. I’m thinking black & purple, with corset laces.

Awww – look at it smile, and laugh, (okay, I guess it’s probably at least a few weeks away from laughing)and throw up. On me, and on my carpet, and on my upholstery. However you spell it. Whatever, anyway. The point is, now I have an article to watch grow and change and eventually ruin its life with drugs, sex, and bluegrass. Because we don’t tolerate conformists around here.