Dear Diary...

 

Here it is, another week, and once again I don't feel like I have anything very meaningful to say.  I know precisely the reason why:

I haven't been journaling as much lately.  I need to journal.  Journaling hangs out with food and sleep on my personal hierarchy of needs, and when I don't journal, my soul starts to wither away a bit, just like my body would start to wither away a bit if I didn't eat or sleep enough. 

I have felt bad for my journal lately, I think, and that's one reason I haven't been journaling as much.  I mean, I know that technically my journal doesn't have feelings, and that technically she can't get bored, but I have felt like such a broken record in my journal lately that I think even my poor journal must be getting tired of me.  I thought maybe she needed a little break.  I've gotten a bit bored with myself--I can't imagine how she must feel.

Also, Matt and I have started exercising together.  Exercising with him takes up more time than exercising alone, since we are going through this program thing that I'm not going to tell you about unless I get totally fit and hot, which so far hasn't happened, so you don't need to know about it.  Anyway, we have been working out some in the mornings, which seriously cuts into my journal time.  Also, I'm tired, partly from exercising and partly because it's been ridiculously cold and partly because I'm a little depressed right now, so I have not been exactly kind to my alarm clock when it cheerfully chirps at me at 5:00 in the morning. 

But let me tell you, I need to journal.  When I don't journal, I get really cranky, and I feel lost, and it's like I'm walking around in a body and soul that don't really belong to me, because I've forgotten to keep myself acquainted with myself. 

I find, though, that sometimes, when I'm working my way through a rough patch, I quit journaling.  It's weird--those rough patches are when I should be journaling the most, and I know it, but the darkest days of my life have often been greeted with silence in my journal.  I need to change that.

So, I have a great idea.  I will use my blog as a journal today, because I'm sitting up in my attic, and my journal is downstairs, and because of this exercise program Matt and I are doing I think twice before considering movement up or down those evil things called stairs.

I always start my journal entries with the date, of course, but I also include the time, and I usually include where I am writing.  One of my professors in grad school recommended this, and I'm so glad he did.  I've been following his advice ever since English 801 (Thank you, Jerry Dees).

Sunday, May 5, 2013
5:23 p.m.
attic

Yesterday I had to go to the stripmall where Leia's vet was.  I hadn't been there since she died.  My insides all twisted up, and I cried as I walked by and peered inside.  I shouldn't have walked by the entrance, but I had to.  I was sad, so sad.  I cried a little, except not much, because I didn't want anyone to see me in tears.  It has been nine weeks, I think, since she died, and I feel a little silly that I'm still sad.  Suddenly I desperately wanted a puppy.  We can't get a puppy until we get back from farm-sitting, and I don't want to get a puppy for the wrong reasons--like, you know, to fill this Leia-sized hole in my heart, but truthfully, I don't care if we do get a puppy for the wrong reasons.  I want a puppy.  I want a sweet puppy.  I want one I can absolutely smother with love. I'm also scared to get a puppy.  What if he gets hit by a car or eats hair and dies from a bowel obstruction or, worse, what if he doesn't like me? 

We are going to farmsit for our Old German Baptist friends soon.  I am excited/nervous/apprehensive.  What if we destroy their crops or forget how to milk a cow or leave a lantern lit at night and set their house on fire or what if they find out that we brought a camp shower because I just could not hack six days without a proper shower? 

Matt and Jack's massive birthday party is this weekend.  I'm pretty sure that it will snow and/or rain and/or no one will come and/or those that come will have a horrible time and/or we will all be sick. 

I found out this week that the blog post I published at Practicing Families and the Mennonite World Review is going to be in the print edition of MWR!!  I am very excited about this.  My parents and grandparents are very excited, too. My grandparents have no idea what a blog is, but they thought it was pretty cool anyway.  They have always believed in me, which is super nice.  I figured that everyone would hate the article, but one guy with a very German last name said that he "wept while reading this delicate reflection."  It can't suck too badly if I made someone cry, right? 

I still weigh 1__ despite the fact that Matt and I have been working out like crazy.  Don't even tell me it's muscle.  Don't go there.  I weigh six pounds more than I did when I hit my goal weight, and if working out like a crazy person doesn't help me lose those blasted six pounds, I don't know what the heck will.  Perhaps I am supposed to balance out working like a crazy person with NOT eating like a crazy person. Interesting thought. 

I'm worried that I am going to hang out in this rocky place with God forever.  He feels so far away, as He should, I think, since he refused to lift his pinkie finger, point it Leia's direction, and save her life.  I still just don't think it would have been that hard to fix.  What worries me, though, is that I feel like I'm the seed that fell on the rocky ground, which withered away because it could not root.  Or maybe I am like the seed that fell on the thorny ground, and the worries of life have choked the life right out of me (see Matthew 13).  Whatever the case, I feel shallow and weak.  Nothing God-related rings true to me right now.  Songs seem pointless, sermons seem empty, prayers seem hollow.  I hate it, but I guess I will hang out here for awhile.  There's nowhere else to go at the moment anyway.

I should probably quit hiding in the attic.  I need to help Amélie with her piano, and I don't remember what I jotted down on my to-do list this morning during church that must be done before the week begins, and I feel guilty for spending so much time up here alone. 

Remember Sixpence None the Richer?  This morning I put this album from college days on before we went to church.  I hadn't listened to the album in ages, but I wanted to hear the song "Within a Room Somewhere."  If you were really my journal, I would copy out the words, but since you aren't really my journal, I can include a You Tube video and then just copy and paste the words.  I actually like writing in my journal much better with pen and paper, but this has been good for me today, especially since I haven't had to maneuver stairs. Oh wait...I can't stay up here all evening I guess, can I?  :)

 

"Within A Room Somewhere"

I breathe the mist
Floating about the stars
I can caress with velvet hands
I breathe the mist
Floating within without
This pen between my fingers

Messiah
I know you are there
Within without me holding me
Messiah
I know you are there
Catching carrying this beautiful mess

Escape the pain
Within a room somewhere
Escape the pain
So deep inside the soul
I have no key
No map to find