Summary: Days off of work are supposed to be relaxing. (Oh, by the way, since I last wrote, I've started an internship at a record label in Great Falls, Virginia. It's actually almost over. Oops.) I don't know if it's possible to be relaxed in northern VA, but today was extra hectic. I picked up the film I used while snorkeling in Key Largo last week with my Dad, which was amazing. One of the best, coolest, most mind-opening days of my life. The photos don't do it justice. Had an interview with Homestretch, Inc. (I say "interview" because it was to be their photographer for a benefit breakfast for homeless families, however it is a volunteer job) -- got it. I began the process of moving my stuff up here and into a lovely storage unit just nine minutes away. The woman at the storage unit place, Joy, was forgetful as hell, sweet as can be, and was so overly concerned with my understanding the "moving in" process that she ended up printing 22 pages of information from the mere four pages I needed to "move in." How four pages turns into 22, I do not know. So that made me late for my oil change appointment at Koons Toyota. That is how I ended up meeting Fredrick D.
First, let me say that I AM on my third glass of wine right now, and my writing may reflect that. Moving on.
Fredrick is a middle-aged black man who happened to have beads of sweat under his eyes when the Koons' front desk woman sent me to him. A fellow sweater, I immediately felt empathy toward him. He was supposed to help me - a young, frazzled, frizzy-haired girl, now 30 minutes late for my initial appointment because storage unit Joy was a hot mess. He asked me to wait until he was done assisting a military mom. They'd been having a very friendly conversation. He told the service guys to not make her wait. Then an older woman walked in and, upon being asked how she was, she replied, "I've been better." Alright, lady, let's not wallow in our own self-pity; we've all had a shitty week, and this is the last place any of us want to be. This was at 4:20 (on 4/20, too! She must have been high). Of course, she went ahead of me. At 7:45, long after the military mom and the older woman had left, Fredrick came into the waiting room where I was glaze-eyed over a new game application called "Unblock Me!" to make sure I was still alive and ready to go home. In those three hours, Fredrick had told me:
-He fought in a war.
-Upon coming home from war, he started a career at Freddie Mac making $14/hour, boosting up to $17/hour within two months.
-A man with whom he didn't get along became his manager, and he fired Fredrick.
-Fredrick ate nothing but bread and peanut butter for a week. (I told him that didn't sound so bad, but he said he preferred Jif and could not afford it. Understandable.)
-He felt helpless because he'd been a good Christian his whole life, with the exception of breaking the whole sex-before-marriage rule, and was receiving no reward for his good deeds.
-At that point in his life, he decided to "step out on [his] faith." He thought it was an epiphany; however, he then described it as a time in his life where he became especially appreciative of what he DID have in comparison to those he saw while fighting in other countries. And he was scoring - not with women, for once, but with financial success - on a regular basis. Perhaps an epiphany, perhaps not. Perhaps in God, but perhaps not.
-He put his life in God's hands, and he soon after began reaping benefits, such as an $80k job at Koons Toyota.
I asked, "Are you liking God to experience? Hypothetically, if I felt down in the dumps because I'm unemployed and working - with a college degree - my third unpaid internship, then went to an impoverished country and met children who lost their limbs before they knew how to use them, I'd, relatively speaking, feel appreciative of my situation. I'd, hypothetically, suddenly be happy to live with my grandparents until I gain enough experience to land a paid job in my field. I would know that I'd eventually get lucky and hear back from an employer, compared to women in some other countries whose employment is harvesting rice." He used the word "lucky" to describe his situation, as well. From a completely non-religious point of view, wouldn't you feel these exact same things given the circumstances? Can't mere experience create the same feelings as a Godly epiphany? Likewise, can't luck feel like an answered prayer? Regardless of what you title the feeling, they are the same.
God was not weaved into my life from an early age. Having moved to the Shenandoah Valley in the 8th grade from Northern VA, I was kind of freaked out by the explosion of "faith," partly because I knew nothing of it except what I'd felt or thought. I liken people in Nova to the doctors who think of medicine as science, and the people in the Valley to the doctors who think of medicine as a miracle. I'd never connected my feelings to any religious titles, such as "stepping out on my faith" when I felt lost or "going to God" to find an answer to my confusion. If I felt confused, I'd think, "Damnit, Marie, you're confused again," and I'd close my eyes, put my hands together and start talking. I didn't preface my concerns with "Dear Lord,".
I've never had any trouble understanding the mildness or extremity of people's commitment to God. If someone needs more guidance than another, then they will probably live a more religiously involved lifestyle than someone who does not need as much guidance. Fair. Recently, though, I have had difficulty figuring out why someone would look to God for such extreme guidance as to tell them who their company should be, or if they've chosen the right company to be around. Almost apologetically, I believe that, unless we are totally lost souls, we should know ourselves enough to recognize who we want to surround ourselves with. If I like being around somebody, "by God," I'm going to spend as much time with them as I'd like. Both my grandfather's and my grandmother's respective best friends died within this past week. Needless to say, it was sad. Grandpa is 93, Grandma is 90. My friend said, "They're lucky; they did it right," as in they had lots of kids, spent lots of time together, and stayed close with those they wanted to be close to. Last night, my grandpa said, "The first time I kissed your grandmother, I thought I was getting away with murder. And then she says, 'I thought you were never gonna do that!'" They're lucky now because he kissed her then. You know what you want when you want it, and you don't need anyone or anything else telling you how to be happy. Sure, there are general guidelines. Grandpa said that when she looked at him, the look in her eyes was irresistible. It made him happy. He said he knew he'd die if she ever looked at another guy the way she looked at him. Bottom line: If you liked it, you shoulda put a ring on it. That goes for anything and everything that makes you happy, assuming it's not on the list of general guidelines for UNhappiness.
Neither my grandparents, nor anyone else, know for sure, though, when their last day is. That is why you choose to "do it right" from the beginning. I may die tomorrow on my drive to work. On Tuesday, I saw a man get rolled into an ambulance after driving his little speed-racer right off the road, through the fence in someone's front yard, and wrapping it around a tree that was 20 feet farther into the yard. In his shoes, right before smashing into a tree, I think I'd be saying to myself, "Man, I wish I would've just kissed her instead of asking God if I should."
I hope he'll get to kiss his girl. And if he likes it, put a ring on it, too.
First, let me say that I AM on my third glass of wine right now, and my writing may reflect that. Moving on.
Fredrick is a middle-aged black man who happened to have beads of sweat under his eyes when the Koons' front desk woman sent me to him. A fellow sweater, I immediately felt empathy toward him. He was supposed to help me - a young, frazzled, frizzy-haired girl, now 30 minutes late for my initial appointment because storage unit Joy was a hot mess. He asked me to wait until he was done assisting a military mom. They'd been having a very friendly conversation. He told the service guys to not make her wait. Then an older woman walked in and, upon being asked how she was, she replied, "I've been better." Alright, lady, let's not wallow in our own self-pity; we've all had a shitty week, and this is the last place any of us want to be. This was at 4:20 (on 4/20, too! She must have been high). Of course, she went ahead of me. At 7:45, long after the military mom and the older woman had left, Fredrick came into the waiting room where I was glaze-eyed over a new game application called "Unblock Me!" to make sure I was still alive and ready to go home. In those three hours, Fredrick had told me:
-He fought in a war.
-Upon coming home from war, he started a career at Freddie Mac making $14/hour, boosting up to $17/hour within two months.
-A man with whom he didn't get along became his manager, and he fired Fredrick.
-Fredrick ate nothing but bread and peanut butter for a week. (I told him that didn't sound so bad, but he said he preferred Jif and could not afford it. Understandable.)
-He felt helpless because he'd been a good Christian his whole life, with the exception of breaking the whole sex-before-marriage rule, and was receiving no reward for his good deeds.
-At that point in his life, he decided to "step out on [his] faith." He thought it was an epiphany; however, he then described it as a time in his life where he became especially appreciative of what he DID have in comparison to those he saw while fighting in other countries. And he was scoring - not with women, for once, but with financial success - on a regular basis. Perhaps an epiphany, perhaps not. Perhaps in God, but perhaps not.
-He put his life in God's hands, and he soon after began reaping benefits, such as an $80k job at Koons Toyota.
I asked, "Are you liking God to experience? Hypothetically, if I felt down in the dumps because I'm unemployed and working - with a college degree - my third unpaid internship, then went to an impoverished country and met children who lost their limbs before they knew how to use them, I'd, relatively speaking, feel appreciative of my situation. I'd, hypothetically, suddenly be happy to live with my grandparents until I gain enough experience to land a paid job in my field. I would know that I'd eventually get lucky and hear back from an employer, compared to women in some other countries whose employment is harvesting rice." He used the word "lucky" to describe his situation, as well. From a completely non-religious point of view, wouldn't you feel these exact same things given the circumstances? Can't mere experience create the same feelings as a Godly epiphany? Likewise, can't luck feel like an answered prayer? Regardless of what you title the feeling, they are the same.
God was not weaved into my life from an early age. Having moved to the Shenandoah Valley in the 8th grade from Northern VA, I was kind of freaked out by the explosion of "faith," partly because I knew nothing of it except what I'd felt or thought. I liken people in Nova to the doctors who think of medicine as science, and the people in the Valley to the doctors who think of medicine as a miracle. I'd never connected my feelings to any religious titles, such as "stepping out on my faith" when I felt lost or "going to God" to find an answer to my confusion. If I felt confused, I'd think, "Damnit, Marie, you're confused again," and I'd close my eyes, put my hands together and start talking. I didn't preface my concerns with "Dear Lord,".
I've never had any trouble understanding the mildness or extremity of people's commitment to God. If someone needs more guidance than another, then they will probably live a more religiously involved lifestyle than someone who does not need as much guidance. Fair. Recently, though, I have had difficulty figuring out why someone would look to God for such extreme guidance as to tell them who their company should be, or if they've chosen the right company to be around. Almost apologetically, I believe that, unless we are totally lost souls, we should know ourselves enough to recognize who we want to surround ourselves with. If I like being around somebody, "by God," I'm going to spend as much time with them as I'd like. Both my grandfather's and my grandmother's respective best friends died within this past week. Needless to say, it was sad. Grandpa is 93, Grandma is 90. My friend said, "They're lucky; they did it right," as in they had lots of kids, spent lots of time together, and stayed close with those they wanted to be close to. Last night, my grandpa said, "The first time I kissed your grandmother, I thought I was getting away with murder. And then she says, 'I thought you were never gonna do that!'" They're lucky now because he kissed her then. You know what you want when you want it, and you don't need anyone or anything else telling you how to be happy. Sure, there are general guidelines. Grandpa said that when she looked at him, the look in her eyes was irresistible. It made him happy. He said he knew he'd die if she ever looked at another guy the way she looked at him. Bottom line: If you liked it, you shoulda put a ring on it. That goes for anything and everything that makes you happy, assuming it's not on the list of general guidelines for UNhappiness.
Neither my grandparents, nor anyone else, know for sure, though, when their last day is. That is why you choose to "do it right" from the beginning. I may die tomorrow on my drive to work. On Tuesday, I saw a man get rolled into an ambulance after driving his little speed-racer right off the road, through the fence in someone's front yard, and wrapping it around a tree that was 20 feet farther into the yard. In his shoes, right before smashing into a tree, I think I'd be saying to myself, "Man, I wish I would've just kissed her instead of asking God if I should."
I hope he'll get to kiss his girl. And if he likes it, put a ring on it, too.
