Yes,

I calmed down.

Thanks for asking.

;)

Come on, America

My forebears fought. They fought tirelessly for me to have certain rights which, by the way, were labeled as "unalienable" in our own U.S. Constitution. And yet here we are, undermining them with decisions that move us not in a direction of positive change and supporting the document that this (once great?) nation was founded on, but in the opposite direction, toward all that we despise. Have we gone this far to REMOVE rights from taxpayers? Have we come so far to encourage MORE GOVERNMENT INVOLVEMENT in our everyday lives? Do we really want to INCREASE NATIONAL AND STATE DEBT? Can you sleep at night knowing that you have RIGHTS which other AMERICAN CITIZEN DO NOT?

I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't.

How many women had to be beaten and bruised, tortured and STARVED for our right to vote? And yet, many of us decided not to use that yesterday. How many couples, forced to live in silence because their love, which crossed race lines, was ILLEGAL? How many women, victims of rape or incest, had to resort to DISGUSTING and UNHEALTHY practices to abort the babies they could not bear had to DIE before we passed Roe Vs. Wade and HOW MANY TIMES ARE WE GOING TO CHALLENGE IT? More importantly, you religious conservatives, where were you to help SCARED YOUNG WOMEN and try to save their lives, rather than bombing clinics, threatening, harassing, and brutalizing employees, and protesting things which, by the way, are not even legal? WHAT DO YOU CARE MORE ABOUT? Being right? Forcing your Bible down the collective throat of this nation? Or the well-being, health and safety of its citizens?

We fought for equal rights, and I was raised to believe that we are constantly moving toward them, but today, TODAY I DOUBT THAT. Today I have nothing but fear and doubt for the well-being of this nation. We are sick.

I don't believe that abortion is morally "right." I do believe in extenuating circumstances, but in my life, I make choices for myself, and I would not choose to have an abortion. BUT DO I GET TO DECIDE FOR OTHERS? Is an abortion ban upholding the greater good?

I am not a gay American, but does it hurt or even AFFECT me that some Americans are? Is it my place to tell these AMERICAN CITIZENS that they are not WORTHY of the rights I have? Is it my place to prevent them from collecting the estate of the person they have CHOSEN to commit their lives to? And in our fractured times, when the divorce rate soars and it seems all around us that marriage is broken, society is seen accepting children born out of wedlock and the dissoltution of vows and dreams, WHO ARE WE TO PREVENT LOVING COUPLES FROM CEMENTING THEIR LOVE in a way that straight Americans enjoy? Is it a big deal? Well marriage was a big enough deal to me that I went throught it. Isn't A CIVIL UNION ENOUGH? Is it for you? It's NOT for me. Next time you drive across the state line into Nevada, imagine that you were no longer married. Flying to D.C.? Well I hope your plane doesn't crash along the way, because your marriage isn't recognized. You have NOTHING.

So maybe I "chose" not to be gay, or maybe I was not born gay, either way, I am not. And because I am not, I suppose I do not honestly know whether or not homosexuality is a life choice. But I can think of HUNDREDS of other life choices that I do not agree with, and NONE OF THEM ARE PREVENTED BY LAW. None of them.

Could we have spent 63 Million Dollars elsewhere? Stopping other "sins" like RAPE, MURDER, ROBBERY, ADULTERY...the coveting of our neighbor? Sins that actually hurt Americans? Gay marriage is a VICTIMLESS CRIME, and if you wasted your time voting against it, congratualtions, you're un-American and a bigot. Have a nice day.

Why I try

I wrote in my last entry about my frustration with writing and the disconnect I felt to myself, and this was the response I received:

"now ...believe. believe that you were created to write. believe that the world needs you to create art through words. and then move forward. move forward in this understanding of who you ARE, not who you have been since denying your love for reading and writing. because really, korey, we're all afraid of pursuing the passions that reside deep within the darkest corners of our souls. they're daunting. seemingly too irresponsible and frivolous. but that's who you were. who you are moving towards, is a person that believes these are the very things that will change the course of humanity. we need you to do what you love. i'm with josh. let me know how i can help."

She also quoted from The Alchemist: "people are afraid to pursue their most important dreams, because they feel that they dont deserve them, or that they'll be unable to achieve them."

Was that written for me?

Now I sit here, sifting through reasons why and why not.

It may be true that most of my last novel is now missing--somehow misplaced on a flash drive I cannot locate. The previous novel, well I have re-written the ending five times and never liked it. I don't have much time. There is laundary to do. I have been working a lot...

I used to have days where words just came to me, and I'd sit down wherever I was and jot them down furiously. These days, I feel lucky to remember what I want to write on my grocery list. And so, I will leave you with this: while I gather the strength to try to succeed, and weather whatever response comes of that trying, I ask that you ruminate on this today:

Sometimes you just might get what you need. Now, you can call them what you want (coincedences, good luck, what have you), but I call them angels. I don't visualize feathered beings who travel the world with harps or in old-fashioned nightgowns, waiting to save George Bailey. I see them as God's way of communicating with us in a way that we will be receptive of. For you, a burning bush might totally rock your world, but it wouldn't do it for me (I'd just call 911). My angel was in the form of my friend, Krysta. She showed me, even across the digital connections of two computers, that God's love, promise and hope can transcend all else. She also encouraged me to see my doubts as a challenge that should only increase my willingness to perservere.

She reminded me that we are so lucky, and blessed, that we are fortunate beyond belief. This alone should incite confidence in me. She says: "we still have more solutions and more hope and more potential to see the light at the end of the tunnel than majority of humanity. why?" Because we believe in something bigger than all else.

It's been described to me as the centerpiece of Christian faith. The idea that in our darkest times God can bring light. That when we despair, we must remember to hope, and to have faith. There are times when He delivers, and we must never forget.

I find that I can see this more easily in the lives of others. In particular, Krysta, who is so amazingly talented and confident, she's like my dream alter-ego on steroids. To hear that even she fears...it takes my breath. Earlier this year, I was gifted with Lisa, an incredible friend who continues to amaze me with kindness that knows no depths. If she were the poster child for Christianity, everyone would be lining up for conversion. If Christ is the reason for the light she has inside of her, everyone would want it. Recently she has fallen upon dark times, and my heart goes out to her. Of course, when I look at her, I see something very different from what she must see. I see purity of soul, potential, strength, wisdom, and generosity. I see a person that no one could help but love and a person who could accomplish absolutely anything. These are the thoughts that we should be able to turn inward, and imbue our lives with an increased confidence and vigor.

How do we do this? Does it begin with my expression of these strengths in others, to teach them what they have and what they are capable of? Is that my calling? Or must we find it for ourselves?

Life is not perfect

...but there is beauty in the inperfection.

At least I try to think so.

I had received some bad news. I was already home from work because I wasn't feeling well, and I get a message that my grandpa is in the emergency room. He has been completely "out of it" for lack of a better phrase, for weeks, and yesterday he was doing really badly. The thousand fears that crowd the far-back, dusty reaches of my brain started to creep up and crowd all of my everyday thoughts. At a million miles an hour these monster thoughts hurtled at me: it's the chemo, but what if it's not? He'll go off of the chemo, and he'll be better, but when he does, it's over? What will my grandma do? What can I do to help? Nothing. You missed your chance. What will I do? Live with regret, it's your only choice.

I was shaken, by this, and by other thoughts, running out of the dark corners and into the light.

I cried yesterday, to my husband (yes, it still sounds weird), and said these words, and as I said them, I shook: "I don't do anything that is me anymore."
I hadn't meant for such a revelation to come forth, and yet, here it was.
"I don't write, I don't draw, I don't even read anymore" I said, my frustration coming through in violent spurts of tears.

"You have to make time for it, then" he said.
"Well that's easy to say," I retorted, stubborn in my sadness.
"What can I do to help?" he asked.

Just like that, my stubborness gave way. There is nothing he can do, because I have so much to do. It's completely my fault. I am in an artistic "no man's land" because I've been upset, overworked, and stressed out. But here I am, continuing to make job searching, writing, reading, or drawing a priority. I let the other things in. I do.

They say acceptance is the first step toward healing, so...
Now what?

blank page

I used to love to see a blank page of paper. It was enticing and wonderful, freeing. I remember even eyeing the blank pages in the beginning and ending of books, and I saw only possibility. It even overwhelmed me then, thinking of how I would fill that page with the perfect drawing or story. The blank page was too valuable to waste.

The blank page has become my empty computer screen. The white stares at me, the cursor blinks as if yearning for use. And why? The computer blank page is forgiving. If I make a mistake on it, I can always press delete, and just like that, blank returns. Unlike a pad of my favorite drawing paper, the computer allows many new documents, one after another, seemingly with no end.

so why?don't?I?write?

Frustration, Validation

This week has been intense. The highs and lows have seemed stronger, more diluted than normal.

For starters, married life is, in a word, wonderful. I don't know how or why it has changed us both, but it has, in ways that are both nearly-noticeable and astounding. I have tried to explain the ways in which Josh seemed to change, almost immediately. He has always been sweet, kind, and devoted. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and it's one of my favorite things about him. But something else was different. It is as though the weight of the ring on his hand has caused a seriousness about him. He has matured somehow, grown up, and become just the slightest bit more intentional in dealing with me. Apparently I have changed as well. Last night Josh came in, all smiles, to thank me for being "the best wife ever."
"That was fast" I responded. "How did I manage that already?"
"You've just changed" he said "you were great already but you seem so much more easygoing. Trusting. It's great."

Is it confidence? If so, I am the world's biggest proponent of the importance of marriage now. It's not just legal, people.

Other highs: I started road biking. I really like it! (shock and awe). I saw my friend Lisa, who I have missed dearly as she recuperates from surgery, and who I have prayed for more fervently than I have prayed in quite a while. I have gotten to revisit and share my "teaser" wedding pictures with family, friends, and even co-workers (I'm proud of them, okay?).

I've also been dealing with a frustrating and exasperating wedding vendor who has given me many momentary "yucky" feelings about my wedding. Thankfully, they are passing.

My work has a tradition of decorating a person's office or cubicle when they get married. After seeing this about 6 times since I worked here, I was excited to see what they would do to mine.

They didn't.
It felt rather like a bad day in high school, when you realize that everyone hates you, and they aren't ashamed of letting you know it in subversive but very public ways. Even having them ask me about my wedding (and therefore acknowledging that they knew about it) feels...wrong, disrespectful.

But these things right themselves.
I talked to my amazingly talented wedding photographer on the phone and I felt my insecurities melt away. I was able to remember how incredibly blessed I am to have worked with such a talent and a positive soul. I am so blessed that I was able to marry the man I love, especially now. I had a wonderful day, it was beautiful, breathtaking, and special. Why is it so easy to brush aside compliments and praise and focus on the negative? I will choose not to.
My mom sent me flowers at work. I called her, laughing, to ask why she did so.

"So your co-workers would know you got married. And your desk will be decorated."
I smiled, for what felt like the first time in ages.
"I love you" I said.
For knowing what I need when I don't. For reminding me what is truly important. For reminding me that the silly things I get caught up in truly amount to nothing. For reminding me that I am loved beyond measure, whether or not I am well-loved by my co-workers.

I got home from work and my husband wasn't there yet. I decided to pass on the love I was feeling, and I made him cookies. He walked in the kitchen to a mouth full of cookie dough. I could only smile. My life is ridiculously awesome. It's just not fair. I should really try to spread it around.

"I really like my ring" he said.
"So do I" I said. "It looks good on you."
"No" he replied. "That's not it. I like having it on. I'm glad to have it."
"Great" I said, and I turned around to hide my smile from him. It spread across my face like wildfire.

What more could I ask for?

A thin slice of perfection

The day was clear, crisp, and vivid, giving the appearance of having been freshly scrubbed. The air was brisk and cool, trees shuddering mildly in the mid-morning breeze. It was beautiful.

I awoke with a stomach ache. The hotel phone rang, ending whatever dreams I was having for a robotic wake-up call. I sat up, feeling the tension in my gut. I was nervous.

I showered, carefully and slowly, trying not to dwell on what could happen that day, or even what would. As we loaded my Maid of Honor's car with item after necessary item I told myself, "breathe it in. Breathe in the beauty of this day." I felt as though I were floating, somewhere outside myself and looking down on the scene before me. Could it be possible that nothing was going wrong?

As the makeup artist was finishing with my makeup, I started to feel emotional. In response, my bridesmaids, relatives and closest friends that they are, began to sing and dance. I should thank them, and Rhianna, for the un-smudged eyeliner I enjoyed that day.

When it was finally time to put on the dress, I was elated, nervous, and just not feeling myself. I walked up to see my groom, and my breath came in short, choppy spurts of excitement. I saw his back, the line of his shoulders in the black tuxedo, and my breath caught in my throat. I held back tears as I walked toward him. We were nervous with each other, as though it was our first date as bride and groom, and neither of us knew what to say. We giggled and held hands and just the touch of him anchored me. I felt whole again. We loosened up in front of the camera, and we were suddenly there, in the moment. Our wedding day. And we loved every minute of it.

The smile that nearly never left my face was not plastered on by the protestations of others, it was genuine. This was our day. We were surrounded by people who love and support us, and we had not a doubt between us that what we were doing was anything but right.

Throughout the day, my emotions swelled and calmed like a mild ocean tide; momentum would build, feelings would intensify, and then flatten, but with the promise of return. The sun shone fiercely through the cool fall air. Leaves rusted, trees swayed, butterflies played in patches of sun-dappled branches. My husband looked at me, his smile laden with nerves and joy, and my heart melted. My dress swished pleasantly around me, my nose filled with the aroma of rose-scented geraniums. The hand that held mine, now adorned with a heavy band of metal, squeezed mine three times, our secret message to one another, I love you. It gave me strength, joy, and peace of mind. It reminded me why the trials were worth it, why we had pushed so hard to make our relationship work, to make it great, why we had put so much time into preparing this day until every tiny detail spoke the language of our hearts. It reminded me of the power of good, the joy of family, the mystery of love. It gave me hope and the promise of wonderful days ahead. It reassured me that every trial would be met with the tried-and-true team we have become, and that nothing would conquer us.

Perhaps it is for these reasons that my smile seems different somehow. Life, in all of its unpredictable and often mundane glory seems a little sweeter. My course in it seems a little more true. There are heavens on this Earth, and we will find them. But we already have the greatest of all, which is love.