Me Too?

I was listening to a song that will be HOPEified, and although it says "men of God" I was totally relating to its theme of rising up and standing firm in faith. Then I learned it was for the mens, and that if I wanted, I could be a part of the bridge, as "the girl who isn't married, but is looking for a guy like this."

There usually aren't specific instances where I feel my feminism exploding, but this was one. Sure, a guy like that would be great. But you know what else would be great? If I could be like that! And I'm not going to sit around waiting for some mythical man when there is spiritual work God and I could be doing in my life.

I mean, sure, whatever. It's good we're encouraging the men in our church. But women need encouragement too. Next song, please?

I figured I would have mentioned this already, as it's fairly important, but I haven't! So here it is: I am genuinely happy to be in Peoria. I like my life right now. I'm not itching to leave.

I think my realization in Mongolia that I'm still in the waiting phase of missions did me wonders. With the possibility of "but maybe" hanging over my head, I could never really settle here. Just a simple brain click, and there it is.

It also helps that I have a friend at work, that I have kind of a lot of friends again, that I'm watching an awesome TV show, that I enjoy my job, that I've realized I can travel a lot by flying all over the US, and that God helps my fears.

And that's a fun story. The day I got back from Mongolia/Chicago, I actively stopped reading my Bible and praying. For no reason. I just didn't want it. And that whole first week, I would go to bed terrified that someone was going to break into my room and hurt me (no doubt influenced by conversations with Gany and Kim). But here's the thing--I thought, I bet if I read my Bible before sleeping, I wouldn't be so scared. And then I would think, "Meh, I don't care. I don't want to read it so there." Because I'm stupid and obstinate.

Finally after a week, I cent stand it anymore, and I got back into reading my Bible morning and night and praying. And I haven't been scared since. Weird.

So yeah, life is good. I love being happy.

Adventures and Being Adventurous

I think people sometimes view me as an adventurer.  When Stephanie and I interviewed our friends about what they thought of us, Bruce called us "spontaneous."  When I told people about Mongolia, they often said something like, "omg!  You're going alone?"  All of which has added up to me thinking that others see me as cooler than I am.

Because yes, okay, going to Mongolia on my own was pretty badass.  But the typical day in my life?  Goes like this:  I have an idea of an awesome party or adventure.  Then I decide to watch a TV show instead.  Or a friend calls me up to hang out, and I decline because I'm in the middle of a really good book.

I am usually very boring.  A homebody.  An introvert.

But then, I do like the idea of adventure.  I love new things, weird things, awkward things.  The getting me to do it, though?  Pretty difficult.

For instance.  Two years ago, Stephanie and I decided it would be totally awesome if we went to Harry Potter Land in FL.  At the time, I thought, "That will never happen."  Two months ago, Stephanie called to tell me that she had planned the whole trip....with two other people, but of course I should come too.  I mostly felt pissed and betrayed and unneeded, so I decided not to go.

And then I watched Doctor Who.  And the image of him, hand outstetched, offering new worlds and adventure, fun and possible danger?  It resonated deep inside me.  Having  a life of adventure means making choices.  It means choosing to do something out of the ordinary, throwing caution or good sense out the window for the sake of an awesome experience.

So now I'm choosing to go to Harry Potter Land.  I'm going to fly there and back in a weekend.  I'm going to drink butterbeer and buy Chocolate Frogs and take pictures of everything.  I'm going to have fun with Stephanie and her friend, and also....I'm bringing Laura.  Because even the Doctor, adventurer extraordinaire, likes to have a companion.

The Pain of Life, as revealed in doctor who

For several weeks, you got to have endless posts about Mongolia.  Now there are endless posts about Doctor Who!  Mwahahaha!  No, not really, because I have finished season 4 and must now take a break to catch up continuity by watching seasons 2 and 3 of Torchwood.

However.  I have feeeelings.  These kind of feelings:

You might remember how I got overly emotional at the season 2 finale of Doctor Who.  At the time, I had never cried so hard at a TV show (movie/book/etc) before.  And maybe this wasn't as bad, but it might have been.  There was definitely blanket biting and sobbing involved.

Which got me thinking.  WHY?  Why do these stories affect me so much?  And I figured it out.  In both of these finales, we are forewarned that the Doctor's companions are going to die.  So I'm prepared for the worst, ready to watch them go out as heroes and shed a few tears.  And then the loophole kicks in and THERE ARE WORSE THINGS THAN DEATH.

In season 2, Rose is forever (kinda sorta) separated from the Doctor.  She can never travel with him, see new worlds, and experience that kind of reckless, important, and awesome life ever again.  In season 4, Donna has her mind wiped by the Doctor.  She can never travel with him, see new worlds, and experience that kind of reckless, important, and awesome life ever again.

Some reviewers I read were complaining about that, how promising a character death but not delivering lessens the impact.  I could not disagree more, because their fates are much sadder to me than mere death.  They have to endure, to live on with the pain of separation.

And that is why I love Doctor Who, because it gets deeper than merely the pain of death.  It deals with the pain of life.

Geeking Out

On Friday night, I dressed up like Dumbledore and had the best time with 50 kids who came to the library aka Hogwarts.  They called me "Hey Dumbledore" the whole night.  When I got onto several boys who were wearing Dark Marks, half tried to duel me, and the other half I convinced to be double agents.  Many said it was "SO MUCH FUN" and one kid fell over in wishfulness, saying, "Why can't school be like this?"

Best library party ever.  Also, I want to find more reasons to dress up.  It is so fun!

I've been trying to watch as much Doctor Who as possible this weekend, which has been sadly interrupted by an unprecedented amount of social activity.  I hung out with Michelle, ate dinner with my grandparents, partied at the Monahan's, went to Missions Sunday, went golfing (er, golf cart driving with Lindsay, really) with the Wineingers, and stopped by the bowling alley.

I KNOW.

I was trying to get Emily into Doctor Who.  Unsuccessfully, to her detriment.  You know when you say something, then realize just how true that thing is?  Different parts of the brain sparking at different speeds.  I told Emily that Doctor Who is generally a decent show, with average fun episodes.  But one fourth of the show just suddenly becomes mind-blowingly awesome, and it is those episodes that make me a fanatic.

I just watched two such episodes.  AND MY MIND IS BLOWN.

Yesterday I put as my facebook status: "Some girls are waiting for their Prince Charming.  I'm waiting for the Doctor."  Not very many people got it, but I meant it so hard.  Traveling through space and time, being witty, marveling at his genius?  Yes please!

I really enjoy being a geek.

Huh.

I had dinner with a high school friend, and I started to talk about how I really missed college but not high school, which.  You know.  Is vaguely insulting to a friend from high school.  But she picked up the dropped ball and said, "Yeah, you always seemed just done.  From the beginning.  Didn't you even try to graduate early?  Yeah?  We all thought you couldn't get out fast enough."

And.  I didn't know other people thought this about me?  Which I realize is stupid because I talk about it all the time.  I am constantly searching for the next adventure, the next place, the next fun.  I just didn't know that everyone was as aware (or more so) of this as I am.

So I'm going to stop that.  Hopefully.  Because now it just feels really rude.  Even though she didn't say it as an accusation or anything, I just felt like it is no longer an okay emotion when everyone is aware that you are always mildly dissatisfied.

Quelfing (not as dirty as it sounds)

I've been busy since returning to Peoria.  Working.  Unpacking.  Fixing pictures.  SEEING HARRY POTTER.  (Which maybe doesn't deserve caps.  I didn't love it, which seems to be an unpopular opinion on the interwebs.  But, the scene where Harry walks to his death?  Oh, the tears.)  In the midst of all this busyness, I have neglected to relate my Senegal Reunion Weekend.  Which was very awesome, and therefore totally deserving of a blog post. 

I was a bit nervous on Friday, because Mallory and Mary were coming around 4:00, and Liz wasn't coming in until midnight.  Mallory and I had had some epic adventures in Senegal, but I didn't know Mary at all, and I feared being the third wheel.  Silly worrying.  I love them separately, and I love them together.  You know when you find someone with your exact sense of humor?  Mine is irreverent, sarcastic, constant, and dry.  Previously shared with Josephine.  Now shared with Mallory and Mary.  Oh my word, they crack me up so hard.

We played Quelf on Friday night.  It's a game that advertises itself as random, and the advertising doesn't lie.  If there is one thing I like, it is randomness, so obviously, Quelf is my new favorite game.  I had to move my piece with my elbows and mime falling down an elevator shaft.  Kim had to belly dance.  I had to shout, "I command you to be silent!" every time someone laughed.  Mallory did a one-man can-can.  So much fun, every second.

At midnight, Kim and I went to pick up Liz from Midway.  I love that we can instantly reconnect and laugh, which granted, was made easy as I regaled her with my love life.  Some things were embarrassing in front of Kim, because I cannot quite get out of my mind that she is my spiritual mentor.  But whatever.  You're supposed to share your life with your mentor, yes?

Liz and I stupidly stayed up until maybe 3:00 a.m. talking even though we had to get up at 7:00 to go to Chicago!  The whole Forsythe fam came, plus Kim's sister Tammy, who served as our guide.  The main thing we did was walk and walk and walk.  We saw Grant Park and Millenium Park.  We saw the Spirit of Chicago and the new Marilyn Monroe statue.  We went to Borders and the library.  AND.  We ate at Ed Debevics, the restaurant where the staff is rude to you.

Our waiter was cute, let me get that out of the way first.  While ordering drinks, I was the only one to get water, which made him mutter, "Of course you do."  When he returned with drinks in hand, he stood behind me and said, "High Maintenence!" at which point I turned around and took my water, before realizing I had answered to "high maintenence."  Oops.

Ethan had been skeptical about people being mean to him, but he quickly fell in love with the concept.  So much so that he started hitting the waiter every time he walked by.  Travis also had a ball, and thought it would be hilarious to ask the waiter which one of us he thought had lived in Africa.  He chose Liz (of course), and then we all had a good time saying, "It was all of us!"  With this new information in hand, our waiter left.  Ethan hit him.  Our waiter shouted, "Stop punching me, missionary!"  Best.  Of.  All.

Also, all the waiters did a dance.  In the windows.  With twists and swim arms.  And our waiter didn't smile at all!  I leaned over to Nate and Liz and said, "Is it horrible that I have a crush on our rude waiter?"  Nate made a face, but Liz said, "Oh my gosh!  I do too!  Why do we always like the mean ones?"

Chicago was a win.  We were all dead tired when we got home to Joliet, however, and instead of staying up having fun, we fell asleep by 10:00.  The next morning, the four of us drove to church to hear Kim and Travis talk about Senegal.  Then it was back to the house to eat leftovers and wait for the Woodlanders and Friendshippers who came to the big Senegal reunion party.  Where we played Quelf again!  And it was still awesome.

I had a really excellent weekend, and I love Liz, Mallory, and Mary an awful lot.  It is nice to be around people like myself, who remind me that I am not totally weird.  It's so fun to have conversations that go, "I just got back from Mongolia.  How was your time in Nicaragua last month?  And how do you feel about leaving for Scotland next week?" without anyone being even slightly surprised or impressed about traveling.  Also we're all kind of weird.  Maybe that is a pre-requisite for living in Senegal?