Circles

So today I read that there is to be a new exhibit in the new art building of student art called Found.  The irony slapped me nekked and hid my clothes, as Dr. Alden would like to awkwardly say.  My life has been running in circles lately and I just seem to sit and watch it.  I worked at the AACC conference for the department last week.  Our booth was right across from George Fox University (where I flew out for 4 hours of group interviewing and wasn't told a thing about the program but was accepted) and down the way was an entire booth of Jesus paintings where Jesus is the man's arm while he does heroine; Jesus has boxing gloves, flowing curly hair, and a glittering smile in the corner of a boxing ring gazing pointedly at you; and Jesus has a tattoo on his arm of a fiery heart with words on it I'm too embarrassed to read because he is staring directly at me with a look on his face that says "You know you want it".  Oh bad Christian art, and the days of Christianity and the Visual Arts.  Just because brother Joshua loves Jesus a lot and sees him this way doesn't mean he's good at ART.  As much as I was cringing, I wonder how God felt.  I have no idea what I would do if people pasted pictures of me everywhere like that...probably develop a sense of humor in self defense.  And then around the corner I saw a man who I worked with to develop some groupings for a phone app for ADHD medication maximization, I almost just ran away.  So awkward and so crazy, but then maybe not as crazy as running into Hannah Smith's first boyfriend ever who knew only two people at Lipscomb University, Jesse Smith and Hannah Smith. And me trying very hard not to ask, "Aren't you the one who sang 'I am every thing you want!  I am everything you need!  I am everything inside of you that you wish you could be!  I do all the right things at exactly the right time, but I mean nothing to you and I don't know why?' under her window after she broke up with you?"  Really life...chasing your own tail much?  When do I get something new?  When do I get to live in a place where I run into people I don't know?  When do I get to be new?  Can I be the new art?  Can I be something found? And of course the fundamental, clinical, counseling answer to myself is always...Yes.  Make it happen tomorrow...because the Tom Bake scarf and your homework isn't finished tonight.




Did I mention this guy in high school who had a crush on me messaged me creepily the other day?

New Shoes

Everything is looming, everything is dooming, and all I can do is cower and fear that what I want so much will never be mine.  That I will enter into the next hardest job of my life and ruin another's while I'm at it.  I pray and grovel, but I feel so selfish, begging and sitting still, crying out while drinking champaign.  What have I to offer, what have I to give?  True honesty, or a life that flies by my face at the speed of light so I taste only drops when I'm not thinking about unimportant things.  But America doesn't let you think of unimportant things for long, unless it's the new Harry Potter movie, or the next 5 episodes of Arrested Development.  Or maybe it's even a new book, a never friend, or 6 pages of sudoku.  What do I do with my time?!  I know I have so much, and yet I sit and wallow and waste!  How do I not move, how do I not shake?  How is this power sinking from my grasp!  I will return to Europe just as depressed as I left it, panicking in my foolishness yet again.  Only God can save me now, only he can take me by the hand and say, "Maia, I will put on your shoes for you...since we don't have time for you to figure out how to put them on yourself."  And I will understand and in my heart, I don't want to be independent from these hands, I don't want to be an adult, forging ahead without a hand to hold.  I want him there, to pick out my shoes and lead me to the door to go out into the world.  Please hold my hand.  Please take me out into the world.  Please, please help me with my shoes.

~love, Erin

Convincing

    I'm not ready to do it again, to constantly feel, worry, and wait.  I just want to be me and not worry what others think and how it seems or what my dreams mean.  I want time and space to bloom and grow, to forget to do yoga, to start playing harp, to listen to friends, to be sore after not working out for a long time.  I want every chance to forget and remember, to relish December, and to not think about what others think about my moments of passion, my moments of fire followed by pouring water, stagnant water.  I will move again, but sometimes, I just need to be still, to understand myself and be understood by those who know me best.  Freedom is what I want.  Freedom to ebb and flow, freedom to fade and grow.  Freedom to be the best parts of me and even the boring, unattractive parts in between.  Space and time and all that's mine.  That is what I want.