let's get louder in 2013-2014

Oh my. This editor is... new and strange. But I am determined to be mature and not let my anti-change histrionics win.

I've realized since the work Facebook ban for ludicrous reasons (did you know that just having Facebook open can give you a virus? Spoiler, it can't) that I'm only on the site at night, after my workout or nap. And I don't miss it at all, not like I thought I would. It's pretty nice. (And of course, my mom sent me a FB message inquiring as to my health since I wasn't as active on FB. lols.)

My legs, particularly around my knees and ankles and a spot in my left quad where I might have torn a muscle back in 2010, have been aching all week. I've been desperately resting, occasionally stretching, applying space heaters (it works!) and finally today I just gave up and took some Advil at work, because I was so tired of the frustrating minor ache. That worked out--the ache went away (it really is stupidly minor), and I also preemptively started to ward off a weather-induced migraine. I hate these things. It was a small one, with a sneaky aura that I just cataloged as random scatterbrain. I took a nap after work and fended off the bulk of it. But when I woke up about four hours later, I had no appetite or energy. Aaron nagged me out of bed via phone. I took some painkillers and got a Mountain Dew (panacea) and ate cereal for dinner, since my stomach was not in the mood. I still feel drained, but pretty pleased that I evaded the worst. I knew something was up when I woke up and my Christmas lights in my room felt too bright. They're pink. They're actually quite dim.

Since then, I've done some Russian studying on verbs of motion. It's spring break, so I need to stay current, but there's also a test next week. Stupid verbs of motion. Russian is such a sadistic language. Every time you start to roll with it, something insane like time-keeping, genitive plural, participles, or verbs of motion come along to punch you in the face. Rabble, rabble. I don't have the energy to do much more than some conjugation practice. I just kind of find that ironic. The migraine aura has robbed me of cognitive focus, so... I practice verbs of motion? LOL, okay.

The race is on Saturday. The weather forecast could be worse, I keep telling myself that, but I am so disappointed and more than a little apprehensive. It's my longest race yet, with by far the most obstacles, first of the season, and... it will be borderline cold and overcast as a slow cold front moves through. My wave will probably be around 50 degrees (10 C). There are at least two big water obstacles, waist deep and over-my-head deep, probably. Mother. Fucking. Damn it. So now I'm reading web articles on recommended clothing and evaluating my closet, thinking of things that are non-cotton, lightweight, not bulky, and that I wouldn't mind ripping or staining. I think I've got an outfit in mind, but this is going to be freaking miserable. I don't have the expensive Under Armor or Spandex or wicking socks because I take home $15k a year and just race registration is my splurge. I do, however, have a lifetime's worth of general athletic and dance gear. I will not match, but hopefully I won't get hypothermia, either. As soon as I cross that finish line, the clothes are coming off, new warm clothes are going on, and I'm shuffling to my car wrapped in my Snuggie.

I'm a little apprehensive about some of the obstacles, as well, but it's a good thing. One reason I do these is the mental component. I won't do electricity or ice water, because I know that my body just doesn't handle those well, but I need the mental challenge. Every time I conquer an obstacle that my brain looks at and says 'NOPE,' I can float on that high and newfound confidence for weeks. I've been looking at pictures on the site. There's a water jump--I can swim, but I'm not a great or fast swimmer, and being crowded makes me nervous. There's a high A-frame with only one two by four a little more than halfway up. I can do it by walking straight up once I have the rope and concentrating on my center of balance and keeping my weight evenly on my feet so I don't slip. But it's these mental challenges that I live for. There's no real guarantee that these obstacles will even be there. It might be easier than I think. Or I might need help. Or I might need to be bailed out entirely as I was in the river crossing last time--or I might just need a pep talk and some aggressive faith in me like I did the wall climb the last time. I'll just have to find out (cold and wet).

Aaron and I have agreed to religious talks. He's been asked, and agreed, to start up as a home teacher, so I asked him to, you know, teach me all the things I don't know about his/their beliefs. He was a little overwhelmed, I think, but not backing down. I was pretty clear that I want him to do it, although we'll probably end up meeting with his home teachers and asking them the thorny questions. I was reluctant to do that, because I don't want to hijack their meetings for LDS 101, but he swears he wouldn't mind. I am dying to crawl around his head and find the ins and outs of his faith and have been restraining myself since Day 1, so I'm probably straining at the bit a little bit. It would be so good for both of us, though. I stuck around for the adult service last week at my church. I've heard the sermon before, but it's so good--Andy Stanley's Christian part 2. About how the word 'Christian' is a misnomer and Anne Rice's quitting. Every time I hear her quotes on that I want to throw my arms around her and say thank you over and over again. But it rekindled a fire under me to really hash out our own beliefs and interpretations, because I'm a shameless spiritual hippie and he's been away from it all for so long.

I reread Galacians this week, in one quick sprint. It's only about six chapters. The intro page in my Bible refers to it as the Declaration of Spiritual Independence from the old rules, which I love. I'm supposed to be plugging through Jeremiah again, but I couldn't shake the bug for Galacians and James.

This is going to be so weird. I dislike structure and dress codes and social codes because I'm developed enough in my faith to find them hindrances (and I also end up with awful social anxiety for the only time in my life, so my mind is never in the right place to begin with). But he needs them right now to get back in shape. Two to three hours in little rooms being spoonfed and wearing nice clothes is definitely not how I prefer to spend my Sundays, but if it's what he needs, then I'm obliged to suffer in silence and be supportive. The silent perils of relationships. As long as he doesn't leave me with a bunch of women. I can survive anything but a room of women who are in religious mode and already know each other.

This is probably why "being unevenly yoked" is such a no-no. But I couldn't imagine doing or being anything else. Sure, maybe if I were "evenly yoked" I wouldn't be doing religious 101 or sitting in a building for hours. Or maybe I would. Maybe I would with higher expectations because that's what Good Christian Women do. But as much as I am not excited to give up such a giant chunk of Sunday, I am so excited to watch him grow, to lead me into church and explain what's going on. I like the slightly uneven accountability, that he takes encouragement from me, but I have to be in the position to provide it. It certainly keeps me on my toes. It's... it's really a mind-boggling honor, that God has entrusted me with it, and it's been something I've prayed about and worked on with God since we met, really. When we were getting to know each other, and I was the unabashed "Christian girl" who volunteers at church every week and doesn't put out (and waiting for inevitable rejection), he was slightly defensive, saying that he had slipped away and done some things he wasn't proud of, that he was tired of living like that but lacked the support/impetus to change his life. (Because Afghanistan.) I didn't really believe him at first, but he really did use me as that support/motivation to climb out of that crappy pattern. (Yes, there were some major setbacks and hurts and PTSD makes everything a thousand times worse but also so much more understandable.)

But that I can watch the softening heart and the whole process unfold is beyond my ability to describe. I can't imagine anything more special or intimate than that, which is why I've kept my mouth shut and given him his space as he works it out. He's a completely different person than he was when we met, than he was in the winter of last year. It drives me nuts in all the best ways. It's a huge exercise for me, that I have to dig down and find the grace and forgiveness and the right words or tone where I thought there was none. Man. I freaking love watching God work.

...Then I come back to the social rules and regulations, about what to wear and who to date and how long and gender norms and I find myself increasingly violently opposed. I think they're all on their face good guidelines, especially for teenagers who are just looking for bad decisions to make, but sometimes I read some pastor's line about how all uneven relationships are [bullshit], destined to fail, and I start to see red. Who are you to pass that kind of judgment? The self-prescribed isolationist philosophies, of only playing and dating and mating with people exactly like yourself and who come pre-approved, are so... snotty. Lest you become tempted. Or how about just challenged? Is it really a conviction if you're going to fall over at the slightest breeze? How are you supposed to do as Jesus commanded, to love EVERYONE, if the majority aren't good enough to come close? Uuuggghhh. Preach it, Anne Rice.

I think I'm becoming allergic to most churches. It's not faith, it's not love, it's social control and navel-gazing. I'm in it for the kids and the music. But the cliches, the catch phrases, the voluntourism (i'm sorry missions for those with $5k to blow), the cliques (i mean exclusionary small groups) are all bugging me more and more. Don't even get me started on the gender roles and separated groups that defy all logistics.

It's late. I need to finish my water and go to bed. I really, honestly, did not mean for this to be so long, but apparently I needed to word vomit.