The Soundtrack to My Life: Part 1

When I get completely and utterly overwhelmed by life...I tend to turn to music. I love artists and lyrics and melodies that say for me what I can't articulate. The songs that make pain beautiful and understandable. The songs that tell stories of bittersweet living. The songs that write the soundtrack to my life.

Transitioning to Iowa has NOT been easy for me to say the least. I have days where I am beyond proud that I took this leap and started to find...not a new me...but a new side of me. And then I have days where I wake up...get ready to shower...stare at the mirror and literally say out loud "what the hell were you thinking?"

As I have previously stated I am not a person who adapts easily to change. Small changes like detours freak me out. When my facial product gets new packaging I feel a little lost and anxious. I take comfort in routine and plans. Of course I have my moments where I can be spontaneous and feel fearless and welcome change and a state of complete unknown. But those moments are highly outweighed by the moments in which I wish "things would stay the same." I say that knowing that it isn't truly what I wish. I wish for change...but I want to be in control of the change. And God knows...very personally God knows...that I cannot be in charge of the things which change around me. Or sometimes...even the things that change in me.

My life for the past month has been beyond hectic. I've turned 26 (now in my late 20s not mid anymore) and have been in and out of town constantly. Most recently I was in Minneapolis for 2.5 days. I took Caitlyn to an Honor Society concert for her birthday (and let's be honest...it was a present for myself too). Music is most definitely a form of therapy for me. And Honor Society's music has helped in many situations since I've been in Iowa. The band is made up of gentlemen around my age and they sing about things that they've been through...things that I've been through. Graduating from college thinking you "made it" and realizing you had no clue what the hell the rest of your life was going to look like. And feeling like you've got nothing when after graduation you suddenly find yourself EXACTLY where you were before you went off to college.

But I digress. Music brings me alive...and takes me into dark places when I need it to. The concert was beyond amazing. And Caitlyn and I literally spent the day with the band. They are truly the most amazing and humble and sweet and interesting gentlemen that I have the pleasure of knowing. We've seen the band several times and had the good fortune to meet them each time...but this time we had the opportunity to have conversations with them. About college...grad school...work...tattoos. It was truly an amazing day for both Caitlyn and I. And I left Minneapolis the next day feeling....incredibly depressed.

Instead of maintaining the level of exuberance and sheer pleasure I felt from watching them perform their music the night before...the next morning I was in a state of complete depression. And darkness. And despair. I felt hopeless and trapped. Anxious and agitated. And I could not quite put my finger on what it was that was bothering me. After all...I had just had the most amazing time in Minneapolis with Caitlyn and I got to watch how happy she was with her birthday experience. I should have been proud of myself for taking on a "grown-up" road trip where I was completely responsible for all monetary aspects, hotel rooms, and navigation (although Caitlyn is THE BEST co-pilot ever). Yet instead of feeling proud and happy and excited I just felt completely defeated.

So I spent the next few days listening to music. Some Honor Society, some Motion City Soundtrack, of course some Something Corporate. Anything and everything I could think of that might help me pinpoint the exact emotions I was experiencing and perhaps even what it was that was bothering me.

After several days of incessant iPod use and lyric searching...I've come up with this conclusion: while the music makes up the soundtrack to my life...it can't define me the way I kinda hoped it could. Only I can define me. And I think that's what's bugging me. I don't have a definition of who I am right now. I am "me-less." I came out to Iowa not knowing who I was. I mean there's a rough idea sketched out. But I can't define myself as a mother or a wife or a girlfriend or a student...the list continues. Labels aren't everything and I honestly do believe that I am not a person who fits into any "box" in particular. However...I'd at least like some boxes to sort pieces of myself into. And it seems like I'm staring at these boxes containing pieces of me but I don't know what pieces go in what box or even what the boxes are. Apparently the label-maker was broken when it was time to sort shit out.

So I've been listening to music. I've been talking to my sister and my mother and my father. I've been watching TV. I've been going to work. I have NOT been sleeping. And I've been thinking. There are too many lyrics that swirl in my head to begin to compile a list expressing how I'm feeling (though I did consider just posting a blog chock full o'lyrics with artists and leave it at that).

I'll wrap this blog up with a few things that are prancing around my head with all the various artists and songs and the feelings these stir up. While I don't want to be considered a stereotypical anything (because there is little about me that fits into any particular stereotype...I mean the theology student with the tattoos)...I wouldn't mind being able to put some specific labels onto the various parts of myself that there are. I am determined to find myself. I know this will not happen in Iowa. This will not happen once I get married. This will not happen by getting my dream career (winning the lottery if you're wondering). However...I will find pieces of myself if I keep pushing myself to accept that there are changes of which I cannot have control. And that for me there is no deadline to find who I am. I will constantly be redefining who I am and what I like and what I do.

There's two songs that I have been listening to tons in the last few days (okay there are quite a few playlists that have been playing nonstop but these two in particular have stood out).

"to the ones who cared and who were there from the start. to the ones that left and took a piece of my heart. to the few who'd swear i'd never go anywhere, where are you now? where are you now? cause i'm thinking of you. you showed me how, how to live like i do. if it wasn't for you i would never be who i am. if it wasn't for you, i'd be nothing. where are you now?"

-Honor Society "Where Are You Now?"

"so let go, let go. jump in. oh well what're you waiting for? let go, let go. cause there's beauty in the breakdown."

-Frou Frou "Beauty in the Breakdown"

These songs speaks to me in way that others haven't recently because...I'm learning a lot about myself. I'm learning a lot about what boxes to pack myself into and which ones to just throw out. I'm learning how to live. I'm learning how to be who I am. And it's hard and it sucks and there are days where when I'm staring in the mirror and asking myself what I've gotten into that I just want to either stumble back into bed or jump out the window and run towards home. And then there are days when I realize that it's okay to be confused and reluctant to change. And it's okay not to know where I'm going next. It's okay to not know a whole hell of a lot because when it comes right down to it....there's very little that I'm actually in control of. God has a plan for me. And somewhere along my fumbling steps I'll find my path. And I'll find where those people who care are (and who they are) and I'll show those people who doubt me. I know that it's okay to breakdown and that truly beautiful things happen when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and open. And I'll live knowing that I'm doing the best I can with what I've got and as long as I continue to dream and desire to grow...I'm doing alright.

As long as there's music.

Johnny Depp and Jesus?

It was Easter yesterday. And John's account of persecution and crucifixion and while we're at it resurrection, to me, is lacking at best. Hear me out. John's Jesus is so passive during the whole proceeding that it's almost...unbelievable. Okay I get that Jesus was the definition of divine obedience and knew that he was destined for a divine purpose here on earth. But John's Jesus is just...too divine for my liking. Not that I'm a fan of reading heartbreakingly tragic and gruesome scenes of suffering, but I mean....where is the Jesus who feels abandoned and alone? Where's the Jesus screaming to the heavens? And I realize that one can easily make the case that allowing oneself to be NAILED to a cross in the first place is gruesome and tragic...but John's Jesus just bows his head and dies after proclaiming "it is done."

Really? Cause my Jesus, that knows all MY human emotions and sufferings, would at least be throwing a few punches at the Roman empire. Okay maybe the Prince of Peace wouldn't throw punches, but wouldn't he feel like it? Or at the very least roll his eyes and throw up his hands going "alright already just kill me. (and for some reason while saying this my Jesus uses Dane Cook's voice)" This is something that has bothered me since I was a child. How can one be put to death unjustly and not at some point feel completely and utterly alone. And think "wow this is really really unfair." Perhaps I would throw in some more colorful language than that, but Jesus would probably stick to "really really unfair." I have, since childhood, disliked John and his too quiet Jesus.

And since childhood, as my mother worked in the church, Easter was a BIG deal. Maybe not with the huge meal and ham and whatnot, again as my mother WORKED at a church thus was exhausted by the time Easter dinner rolled around...but certainly the Easter baskets. The closeness of friends and family, Easter was the definition of a "community of Christians" for me as a child and young adult. And this was my first Easter 100% by myself. I had little Maddie (Cait's Pomeranian) with me all weekend, but beyond work I had nobody. I felt like Jesus in the wilderness. My advantage over Jesus,? I had Blue Moon beer to get me through.

Before I actually began my wilderness experience, I was indignant and angry and hurt and lonely. Without going into details which I unfortunately cannot vent about here, I'll just say I was NOT planning on spending Easter alone. At all. However there were "extenuating circumstances" which made it completely acceptable for me to be left behind on Easter weekend (sarcasm noted?) And the main reason I was upset was that the whole situation could have been avoided if um, say, people gave advance notice of plans to parties that may be involved. Whatever. Anyway.

So I left for work on Friday morning convinced that my Easter weekend would feel like Good Friday with no resurrection in sight. Then I got home from work on Friday to take Maddie out and immediately prepare for my Good Friday service at work. I felt right at home behind that pulpit (and the residents LIKED the liberal theology). It was good to be back. I went home that night looking forward to the day of resurrection, hoping to feel as renewed as I did on the night of Jesus' death.

And then Sunday came. It's Monday evening and I'm still waiting for the wonder of the resurrection to hit me. Seriously. Usually the glory of the morning doesn't hit me until I hear my congregation singing and smiling and in unison affirming that "Christ the Lord is risen today..." We sang it at the manor, and, well...I was checking my watch to see when the pastor would leave to be honest. And bothering myself with charting the activity. I was NOT rejoicing in the glory that is life everlasting. And the miracle that is the resurrection of the body (which I won't even get started on here because I have deep theological reservations about a bodily resurrection). I was...just working as if it were a normal Sunday church service. I didn't even join in praying the Lord's Prayer.

Part of experiencing worship and religion and spiritual practices for me is to NOT partake in anything with which I am uncomfortable or does not bring me some sense of divine closeness. I will not say out loud parts of creeds which I do not believe, I will not sing hymns if the theology of the hymn is offensive to me. And on Easter Sunday, it wasn't that I wasn't partaking because I didn't agree with or believe what was being recited or prayed or sung...I just wasn't present at worship. I was in my own little world. And I'd say I was grieving the loss of my youth and the fact that my life has changed, except that isn't quite it either.

I did talk to my mom and dad on Easter. I didn't feel as alone as I thought I would. After all I was surrounded by the residents, and Maddie's love at home. And since nothing about yesterday felt like Easter to me, I didn't miss the new frilly dresses and the early sunrise service at all.

Today, however, I am grieving the loss of my Easter holiday. I am grieving that I am stuck in a mindset of darkness and oppression as opposed to heavenly light and freedom. Given my current situation, I feel like I'm preparing for my own crucifixion everyday. Constant judgement and disapproval. Ever present condemnation and disappointment. And every day I take my cross a little closer to my Golgotha.

My presence in Iowa has been... an experience. I have learned more about myself in these past few months than in my entire 26 years. I have learned about other people and how I react to them. I have learned what I DO NOT want to be when I am old. I have learned that I have desires and wishes that I professed to vehemently despise before. And I have learned that I like planning and having a schedule.

I was originally planning on being in Iowa for one year. This is fast approaching and I want out of Iowa as of the minute my mom pulled away from the house. But I've stuck it out because, I've met some people who are really truly awesome. And I've got a job that I wake up excited to go to (I mean...so long as I know I can just tune my boss out all day). But now I'm waiting on circumstances that are in God's hands. And damn it God, if you're reading this, I'm impatient so let me know what's going on already.

I will find my way home at some point. And I don't know exactly what that "home" looks like. But I know I'll get there eventually. And while everybody else on Easter was reciting the Apostle's Creed...all I could recite was the final soliloquy from the movie "Blow." Yes, the Johnny Depp cocaine movie. And yes, I have this memorized. And I know that one day I'll look back on my time in Iowa and think this:

"So in the end, was it worth it? Jesus Christ. How irreparably changed my life has become. It's always the last day of summer and I've been left out in the cold with no door to get back in. I'll grant you I've had more than my share of poignant moments. Life passes most people by while they're making grand plans for it. Throughout my lifetime, I've left pieces of my heart here and there. And now, there's almost not enough to stay alive. But I force a smile, knowing that my ambition far exceeded my talent. There are no more white horses or pretty ladies at my door."

A very blessed Easter to all. And may we all experience the resurrection the way in which the Lord intends for us.