Nostalgia: Fatick Friendship Edition

Liz and I are watching Veronica Mars together.  Mostly since we've lived together in Dallas, we've shared favorite movies or gone to the theater or kept up with current TV shows.  But we haven't been addicted to a series, not like how we watched Buffy in Fatick or anything.

It's nice, coming home and waiting for the other to arrive.  Then the one who has been waiting sidles into the other's room and says, "How was your day?  Oh, that's nice.  ...Veronica Mars?"  Then there is hysterical giggling and a rush to set up the DVD in a laptop and settle on someone's bed.

Sometimes we even drink tea and eat baked goods, and then it feels exactly like being in Fatick. 

(When Liz was properly obsessed with Buffy, there was one time at a Friday night dinner at the Forsythe's when Liz kept making eyes at me, so finally I stretched big and yawned, "Wow!  We'd better go home!"  Kim pointed out that it was only 9:00, so I stretched again.  Liz burst out laughing and confessed, "We just really want to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer!"  I think Kim was offended, but we moto-ed home with the cool night breeze in our faces and collapsed onto our cheap couch, exchanging ponjas for shorts and sinking back into the world of Sunnydale.)

A Case Study: Tricia's Brain

Me:  Oh my gosh.  I've had acne over half my life.  I thought I'd be over this by now!
Me:  Heh heh, that's kind of pithy.  I should make that my facebook status.
Me:  Someone might try to console me, and I only want it to be funny, so I'd better not.
Me:  I think this is a McGarrah thing.  I think we are cursed with bad skin.  I should probably not have kids and pass it on.
Me:  Another benefit to adoption!
Me:  But if I adopt a kid, they might very well have horrible acne.  Or much worse things.
Me:  Hm, true.
Me:  Nope, but any kid I might adopt already exists, and someone needs to love and care for them.  Me:  Good point.  Adoption is still a solid option.
*continues brushing teeth*

The Fable of the Pursuer

I was "pursued" recently, and it was utterly unromantic.  Mostly because I didn't like the guy who was pursuing me.  I did not understand how he didn't see the hints I was laying down.  Finally I told him I was interested in someone else, and he said, "I'm going to keep pursuing you unless you tell me to stop, because I respect you."  I think he thought it sounded romantic.  It felt creepy.  I immediately said, "This is me asking you to stop."  And it was super weird.

I complained about it to Liz, and she said something very smart (like she does).  She said that Christian guys have this "pursuer myth" rammed down their throats from an early age, and they just assume it always works.  You know, the one about how a guy was so sure God had told him to date a girl, but she wasn't into it, so he kept pursuing her until she gave in.  I used to think that was romantic (WHO WAS I, UGH, I'm so different now).  And I guess, in very specific instances, it might be.  Like, if the guy was someone you actually liked, but you wanted to see if he thought you were worth pursuing?  But that's so stupid.  How much better to be like, yeah I like you, thanks for liking me too.  Dating games are so stupid.  Let's all agree to stop them immediately.

So anyway.  That's one thing, if it's a guy you like.  But if it's a guy you don't like?  No.  Just no.  Maybe God specifically tells a few guys to do something like that, but by and large it isn't God talking.  It's hormones.  And I'm sorry that guys are told to pursue, and girls are taught to be pursued.  It doesn't have to be like that. 

Added to this, a friend of Liz's came over and told us how a guy in her small group at church was going back to his wife, because he wanted to make their relationship work.  "Aw!" we all said.

"Yeah, his wife put out a restraining order against him, but he really feels like he ought to try again."

Jessica and I gave her "are you serious right now?" looks, unsure how polite it is to tell off someone you've just met.

"Um, restraining order?"  I said.  "Shouldn't he, like, stay away from her?"

"But they're in a covenant relationship.  She left the faith and left him, and when he kept pursuing her, she took out a restraining order.  But, I mean, they're married."

"Nope.  Nope.  That doesn't matter," said Jessica, who works in a women's shelter.

And really, what is this!?  How have we taught men to disrespect women's wishes and comfort because God "told" them to?  How about instead, men pray that God moves the woman's heart to feel the same way, yeah?  God can do that, and it's not creepy, and it's not illegal.

Oh my gosh.  I have so many feelings about things.  

Loving Things is Not Idolatry

There is so much going through my head lately, but some things I don't want the interwebs to know, and most things I'm still processing.  However, I feel a weird obligation to update this blog (it's hard to let go of an 8-year habit) so.  What to talk about?

I love my connection group at church.  We all stood around and talked for half an hour in the sanctuary after service yesterday, and then we got together for three hours for dinner and discussion at night.  One of the things we talked about is something I've been processing.  This isn't complete by any means, but here's the short story.

Back to my martyr's complex.  This is what God is currently killing in me, I think.  There are many facets to this weird thing in me (it's not SO weird, unfortunately, I think it's strongly bound up in my legalistic background), but one aspect is the fact that I feel guilty when I love things a lot.

That sounds ridiculous, but I have examples of how I became this way.  For instance, during one of my Harry Potter fanatical days, I was going on and on at church, and a woman I super respect gave me a snarky look and said, "Just make sure you don't love Harry Potter more than God!"  And.  That made a huge impression.  Add to that numerous sermons and youth group lessons about idols, and how the things we love most in the world are often idols, and I've developed a severe case of turrets ("Oh, I love that!  BUT NOT AS MUCH AS GOD").

And yes, things can become idols.  But I don't think it happens nearly so often as we assume, and I don't actually think that's the idolatry God was talking about in the ten commandments anyway (side story, for later maybe).  There is a lot of good in the world, and I think God wants us to love it unreservedly.  Indeed, there is a good chance that by not seeking out the beautiful and loving it, we are dishonoring the God who gave it to us.

I think God wants me to be passionate, to love overmuch, to smile and giggle and talk incessantly about the things that I'm fond of.  God is always first in my heart.  I've realized that lately, that even though I suck at keeping quiet times and I'm no longer so concerned with a "good girl" facade, I love God.  In moments of stillness, my mind goes to Him.  God and me, we're long term.  And He is such a generous lover that He showers me with gifts and stories and beauty and nerdy fandoms.  It would be an insult to ignore them.  And I don't need to remind Him that "thanks, but I love you most!"  HE KNOWS.  We're solid.

I'm learning so much about living in grace.  It's completely wonderful. 

I Terrify Children (And Enjoy It)

I am Black Widow, tiptoeing to hide on one side of the refrigerator.  Ketan, Spiderman now, clomps toward my hiding place.  Anju is in the playroom putting on lip gloss in some sort of preparation to be Wonder Woman.

Ketan thinks he is sneaking up on me, but I glide around so that when he jumps on my previous hiding spot, I'm no longer there.  I'm behind him, and I scream at him until he falls on the floor gasping for breath and laughing in panic.  That was so fun I decide it ought to happen again.

Ketan and I hide on the stairs outside the playroom where Anju is singing One Direction songs and still applying lip gloss.  Ketan says, "Come out here Anju!" and grins at me.  When she walks to the doorway, he leaps down at her, which makes them both scream.  Before Anju can recover, I jump down as well and roar at her.  She falls to the floor and skids halfway across the room.  She clutches her ankle and absolutely sobs.

I hurry to her, but despite her expression of utter despair, her ankle is fine.  So I giggle.  That pisses her off ROYALLY.  She screws up her face, flings a fist at me, and yells, "I HATE YOU.  I wanted to have fun, but you SCARED ME."

I still giggle.  "I wanted to have fun too.  And I did when I scared you!"

This does not make her feel any better.  As she pouts I poke at her and explain, "Scaring people can be fun.  Do you know what you can do when someone scares you?  First you scream in terror, and then when you can breathe again, you tickle-attack them."

Anju's glare turns half mischievous, and then she launches herself on me.

The Past

I was flipping through my old xanga blog from junior year of high school (eight years ago!) and well crap.  I talked about EVERYTHING.  With such enthusiasm!  I mean, I would discuss the intricacies of a lunchtime conversation then wax lonely about how much I wanted to get married in a couple years, then freak out about some nerdy thing or another.  Now, I realize I do all those things still.  I'm the same person.  But I used to do all of that in one post.  Every day.

What changed?  Am I aware that people are not actually interested in the mundane events of my life?  Did I used to not know that my life was mundane?  How sad!  Did I really used to think that every part of my life was exciting and worthy to be shared with the interwebs?  And now I've lost that?

I don't know how I feel about all this. 

EDITED TO ADD:  I used to end every post with a quote, and one resonated with me, so I put it as my facebook status.  IMMEDIATELY, two high school girls liked it.  Hahahahaha.  It must be especially meaningful at that time of life.  

Hermione is a Boss, Don't Mess With That

Person:  What would be different if Harry Potter were set in the United States?
Me:  *oh my gosh, what a fantastic question, I'm so into this*  Well, Harry would definitely be the surprise star quarterback.  And he would obnoxiously say "dude" all the time.
Person:  Yeah, football.  And I think Hagrid would be a redneck.  Also, I think Hermione would be really promiscuous.

At this point, I set my phone down.  Hermione?  Promiscuous?  What the hell?  However, I was willing to give Person the benefit of the doubt.

Me:  I can't actually ever imagine Hermione being promiscuous.  She's far too level-headed.
Person:  Yeah, but an American nerd is just too boring.

Alright, that's it.  I never responded, and I spent the next couple hours going back to look at the text incredulously.  (You think I'm kidding, but this time I'm not.)  Finally, Liz came home.

Me:  LIZ.  Guess what Person did!  You'll never believe it!  I'm SO UPSET.  *reads texts dramatically*
Liz:  Oh no!  *laughs hysterically*
Me:  Person MALIGNED Hermione Granger.
Liz:  She is basically you!
Me:  Yeah!  American nerds aren't GOOD ENOUGH?
Liz:  They totally are.
Me:  And Person literally took the one girl mentioned and made her sexual because that would make the story better?  It's like Person did everything possible to personally piss me off.
Liz:  And in one sentence, too.
Me:  Yes!  I would almost be impressed.  If I didn't hate Person so much.
Liz:  I'm sorry.
Me:  Thank you.

Don't mess with my fictional characters.  It will make me judge you, probably forever.

I Finally Catch Up With the Rest of the World

Woman:  I'm sorry!  I thought she was their mother!
Me:  Oh, I'm not their mom.  I'm their nanny.
*walk outside*
Ketan:  That was mean of her.
Me:  What?  Why?
Ketan:  Obviously you couldn't be our mom.  *gestures to skin colors*
Me:  Sure I could.  I might have adopted you.
Ketan:  Will you adopt us!?
Me:  No!  I don't want your parents to die.
Ketan:  But if they die, will you adopt us?
Me:  That's sweet.  We'll see.

Ketan is always the one who creates memorable conversations, but Anju is pretty hilarious in her own right.  And she's super cuddly.  After piano lessons today, I took her home (Ketan went off with his dad) and she sat on my lap while we both read to ourselves.  It was literally a page out of my "I want my future family to be like this!" picture book.

All of which leads up to this:  Every once in a while, over the last couple weeks, I have... *deep breath*  I have...wanted kids.

I know, WHAT.  There have been times in the past when I've thought, "I want to indoctrinate kids," or "kids would be useful for visiting the zoo three times in one month" or "it'd be cool to have the adoration of kids."  All those things are still on the table, but now I kind of just...want kids for the sake of having kids.  Of doing life with half-formed people, seeing their perspective and teaching my own.  Putting on lotion and getting kleenexes for bloody noses.  Complaining about dinner and dog piling on a bed to wheezing laughter.

Those big feelings don't last.  They're fleeting.  But they're NEW.  And maybe they'll get more common from here on out.

It took me nearly 25 years, but I finally learned to stop thinking of kids as parasites (adorable parasites, but still).  Who knew this nannying job would be so important?

My Schedule

Last night I dreamed that I went on a date with Robert Downey Jr. in order to make Louis Tomlinson jealous.

I think my awesome dreams are a direct result of having the absolute best schedule this semester.  I never have class until 1:00 in the afternoon.  I have every morning free!  I've gotten ahead on my homework, I've started working out a bit, and I'm never tired.  This is how my life works best.

Wake up at 9:00.
Eat breakfast leisurely.
Fiddle around on the internet.
Watch my online class and lift weights like a boss.
Collapse in my chair and read school books.
Shower.
Eat lunch.
Drive to class.
Go to work.
Get home at 9:00.
Watch TV with roommates.
Do some homework.
Go to bed at midnight.

It's like the world is revolving around me.  I love it.

Unthinking Jerks

I expect seminary classes to discuss homosexuality, and I'm not surprised when my professors take the traditional evangelical position.  But what I hate is when students in class turn to smile at each other when the professor defends his conservative view or snicker at the outrageous claims of gay Christians.

I guarantee you there is someone else in class who is either gay or who loves someone who is gay.  Let's discuss things, of course.  But let's do so in kindness, yeah?

EDITED TO ADD:  I overheard this conversation in class.

Woman:  Do you know *this show*?  There are lesbians!  In your face!  It's not a joke anymore, or something hidden.  I just can't believe it.
Girl:  Yeah, and she's just so pretty.  It's too bad.

I just can't.  I honestly don't know where to begin with all the unthinking ideas exhibited in that conversation.  I'm not saying all Christians need to accept gay relationships.  I know that won't happen.  But I'd like to think people can understand and be respectful of people regardless.  Or else why don't we say, "Did you see that show with a divorced couple!?  Can you believe it?  And in one episode, the whole plot hung on a LIE.  The shock!"

Think of something as sin, sure, but it's not necessary to be rude.  And also, people aren't lesbians because they're so ugly they can't snag a man.  How is that even?  I can't.

Okay, I can't let it go.  What is the point of media but to display stories, true people and true situations.  Media at its best doesn't pass judgment, it just shows.  Sometimes it does pass judgment, but the simple fact of having lesbians in a show does not automatically pass judgment.  It just says, "lesbians exist.  we're honoring that by letting them have adventures and drama too."  I see absolutely nothing wrong with that.  If all media only included perfect people, it would be Jesus sitting by Himself.  That is not the point of media.

I Will Raise Up a Generation (Of Two)

One of my favorite things about nannying kids is passing on my infinite wisdom, especially when it comes to gender and sexuality.  Yesterday Ketan and I had this conversation.

Ketan:  Miss Trish, what's your favorite girly color?
Me:  I don't think there's such a thing as a girly color.
Ketan:  No, like fushia or pink or purple?
Me:  Colors are colors.  There aren't feminine or masculine colors.
Ketan:  Miss TRISH.  What's your favorite girly color?
Me:  My favorite color is green.
Ketan:  That's not a girly color!
Me:  There are no girly colors.
Ketan: ...I'm glad you think that, because my favorite color is purple.

AW YEAH.

And maybe a month ago, I was especially pleased with this conversation.

Ketan:  This kid in my class is so annoying.  He's so gay!
Me:  Oh yeah?  What makes him gay?
Ketan:  He's annoying!
Me:  That has nothing to do with being gay.  Why do you think he's gay?
Ketan:  He wears crazy clothes.
Me:  Sometimes I wear crazy clothes.  I love when people wear crazy clothes!  But that doesn't make him gay.  What makes someone gay?
Ketan:  Miss TRISH.  I'm just saying he's gay!
Me:  Because he's annoying?
Ketan:  Yes!
Me:  That has nothing to do with being gay.  C'mon.  I know you know what it means to be gay.
Ketan: ...It means being a boy and liking boys.
Me:  Right.  Is that kid gay?
Ketan:  No.  But he's annoying!
Me:  Yeah, okay.  I believe it.

Halfway Through the Semester (in a winter sort of way)

I am three days into my five day class.  I wake up at 6:45, drive half an hour to school, attend class from 8:00-5:00 with an hour lunch break, drive half an hour to pick Ketan and Anju up from school, then work until 9:30.  I was handling this 14-hour schedule really well for like, two days.  Which, to be fair, is the equivalent of going to class for two months.

But right now I am DYING.  And I want to read fun things.  And what is television?  And SLEEP.  And ugh, I'd like to stop wearing my glasses.  Oh, and I contracted for a B so that I don't have to write a final 20-page paper, and it's the first time I've ever chosen to get a B, and I'm really proud of myself for doing this because it's a big character development moment for me, but I'm worried about people yelling at it for me and making me doubt myself so I'm just slipping it in here.

Despite my extreme level of tired, I think I would definitely do a January class again.  It's the kind of challenge I like to force myself to achieve.  This is pretty much a student's marathon run.  I CAN DO THIS AND I WILL FEEL SO GOOD FOR IT. 

Because I'm never going to run a real marathon.  The girl next to me in class tried to make small talk and said,

Girl:  Do you run?
Me:  "HAHAHAH no."
Girl:  I'm thinking of joining a running club.
Me:  That could be good.  I hear people do that and enjoy it.
Girl:  Yeah!  I mean, you could totally join one, there are some near school.
Me:  No, no.  I will never join a running club.  But that's good for you.
Girl:  Oh, you could--
Me:  No.

I'm tired.

Hunter or Hunted

I told a friend about my dating exploits over Christmas, and she asked, "Aren't you worried about being the hunter?"

And.  Well, I'm going to use "pursuer" instead of "hunter" because the latter makes me think of aggression and killing.  That is not how I want a relationship to go, no matter who initiates things.  So.  Pursuer.  Do I hate being the pursuer?

No.

For one thing, I'm convinced there is no "biblical" way to date.  People didn't even date in the Bible.  I think there are overarching themes of gentleness and kindness and respect that ought to be applied to dating relationships just as in all relationships.  I'm also not convinced of any specific "biblical womanhood" or "biblical manhood."

So what to do if the rules are laid out plainly in Scripture?  Find truth in experience and prayer, and trust in God's grace to cover any mistakes.

With all that in mind, I allowed myself to wonder, "Would I rather be pursued or to pursue?"  And honestly, neither sounds great.  I don't want to pursue someone, and constantly be asking them out or telling them I like them, and only ever receive similar affection secondarily.  But I also do not want to be eternally pursued.  If someone is always asking me out and I never initiate something, it's because I do not feel strongly about that person!

In summary, I want a relationship in which I am both the pursuer and the pursued.  I think those roles should be interchangeable, and that context determines someone's actions more than gender.  I want someone who will both initiate and respond.

So no, I am not worried about being the hunter.  If that were always the case, yes.  But no one-time event is determinative. 

My Gender-Bending Family

In my human development class, we learned that women usually live longer than men because they tend to get health check ups regularly.  Upon hearing this, I thought, "Well, I'm going to die early like a man."  It's been over three years since my last physical.  I thought I had a growth on one of my eyelids for like, two weeks.  I kept thinking I would go to the doctor to see about it, but I never did.  Then one day it was gone, and my inaction was validated.

That's not all.  I mean, I can be feminine; I like dressing up and doing my hair.  I'm overly fond of animals, and I like to talk about my emotions.  But I've got a wide streak of masculinity.  I don't clean, I don't care about dust or dirt or washing my hands.  I express affection by punching people.  I don't craft, and I love video games and fantasy and superheroes.

I think that's part of why I became a feminist.  I don't fit into a stereotyped gender box, and I've learned that it's okay.  I want everyone else to be comfortable with their boxes as well.

I'm not the only one, either.  Roy taught me to stop fighting to fit into a stereotype when he started expressing his feminine side.  At Christmas, Mom got Cat and I stick on fingernail polish, but Roy got nothing.  "Christmas is ruined," he deadpanned, until we realized there were enough safety extras for all of us to have red and black swirly nails.  Later that day the three of us sat at the kitchen table.  Cat took her time, meticulously applying each nail.  Roy and I hurried through, ignoring the not-quite fitted nails and snagging the edges within minutes.  We're a mix of femininity and masculinity, my brother and me, wanting nail polish but not caring if it looks like crap.

A couple days later while discussing high school life, Cat asked, "Wait, what instruments did you guys play?"

"I played saxophone, and Roy played clarinet," I explained.

"Of course you did," she smirked.

We're a gender-bendy family, and I love it. 

Dating

Years ago when I lived with the Hughes family, Jennie said she admired how I'd handled dating and boys and that she hoped I would influence Hannah.  I should have laughed in her face, because I'm the most neurotically unhealthy single person I know.  I won't argue that I haven't learned things or avoided potentially hurtful relationships.  But reaching the age 24 without ever going on a date is not like, some higher way of singleness.  It is a way.  But I don't think it is better or even preferred.

I'd been thinking about this a lot lately.  I have a roommate who is very open to dating and meeting new guys and being honest.  The other three of us stare at her in wide-eyed awe and confusion.  Because of her and a few other things, the last month or so has fostered a building pressure inside me, part of me desperate to stop being so single, and the rest of me confused as to how to change anything.  In the end, before I left Texas for Peoria, I decided to melodramatically confess my affection for a guy I've liked for a while.

However, when I got to Peoria, I discovered another guy I've been fond of was home as well.  I thought, "Why not?" so I asked him out via text.  This is obviously the swankiest way to express interest in another human being.  He said yes and planned a double date.  It was fun and also anti-climactic.  When I rehashed everything with Liz later, she said, "I think that's what dating mostly is."  It's fine.  I'm grateful.  I got to date someone I like, but I didn't have to deal with all the messy feelings of being overly invested or wondering what would happen next. 

All those feelings were for the original guy, the one I'd planned on confronting with melodrama and planned speeches.  We hung out, like friends, like usual.  While giving relationship advice, Roy asked, "Do you ever feel romantic energy from him?" and I don't.  Being with him is fun and lovely, and I don't think he feels what I feel.  But then I thought, "Who cares?"  I'm tired of melodrama.  I'm tired of living in a junior high mentality that is constantly reading the situation, wondering what the other person is thinking and agonizing over every move or touch.

So on Sunday, I cornered him.  I said

Me:  If I asked you to be my date to a wedding in June, what would you say?
Him:  Maybe.  I don't know what I'm doing in June.
Me:  Well, consider yourself pre-asked.

And that was it.  A tiny step, a little honesty.  It wasn't fireworks or angry tears, and THANK GOODNESS.  That's the only way I know how to frame romance, and it is exhausting and terrifying.  I'm learning to think of boys as people, and my feelings as legitimate and worth being expressed.  If I tell someone I like them, and they say, thanks but no thanks, so what?  It's no different than not saying something and therefore not dating them.  But at least I feel better about myself.

It was a big week, I guess I'm saying.  I feel like I've taken a measurable step toward adulthood.  Not because I dated someone, or spoke up a little to someone I like, but because I was honest about my feelings.

Yay me.