On being grown up

First off, I don't like it. I suppose I haven't much choice though. No one ever asks you if you're ready to grow up, they just hand you a diploma, tell you to get a job and there you are. Ready, supposedly, and for all intents and purposes, a grown-up.

It's quite ridiculous really, that at twenty-three you'd expect me to know what the hell to do with my life. I haven't got a clue. I call my parents at least 5 times a week. I can't even order cable without their input. I crave validation in the same manner I did at age four, and I'm constantly reminded that by my age, Keats was dead and a masterful poet. Don't even get me started on my inequalities when it comes to Dylan Thomas. How he ever developed such a masterful understanding of the english language is beyond me. My personal opinion, I could write a plot like Bill Shakespeare, no problem, but to write a poem like Thomas? It's enough to make you quit.

I write all day, only to come home to no desire whatsoever to write anything. And if I do write, well it's no good. It sits in the journal and I read it six months later and hate it. Generally speaking. You'd think grown-ups would have more inspiration. We don't. If anything our inspiration is drained by the drum of a 9-5. Even if it is the 9-5 you've been telling yourself for the last five years that you want. Or a means to it.


Today someone I work with told me how much he hated hemingway...as a man, not a writer. Well who did love him as a man? Except his wives, and maybe secretly gertrude. The man was a bastard. but he's a loveable bastard. And you know, for all that he was, I don't think you could say he wasn't an honest human being. And sometimes, just for that, I love him as a man. Even though I never knew him, (and how can you hate or love someone you never knew- old hem would be pissed at that, we throw those words around too much) I still have an admiration for him as both man and a writer. Because to some extent, you cannot seperate the two.

It's like when you're listening to Harry Morgan think about killing Eddie. (to have and have not) And you hate him for it, but you identify with him, and you respect him for being honest about it. old hem doesn't bullshit. It's a quality I wish I had.

As a grown up, I realize just how much I aim to please other people. I never used to be like that. When you're a kid, everything is simple, black and white. You know who you are and you're proud of yourself. A kind of humble pride that only kids can have. When you grow up, the lines blur, you're not so sure of yourself, and even when you are sure, you keep your mouth shut. Sometimes I wish I had the guts to be my eight year old self.

Or the talent to turn a one liner into a story.

Sometimes I wish I'd experienced more, or loved more, or done anything to get me where I need to be, and sometimes I call that out as bullshit. I should be able to write with what I have. But sometimes I can't or I don't want to, or I don't feel like a grown up. So I gotta write what I feel, what I know. What's it's like to be uncertain and trapped within the world's expectations. Be a real, honest human being and hope that someone out there gets something from it. Live and drink deep and take in all that I can.

Maybe I'll be hated when I'm dead, but at least I'll have lived.

A good church.

I recently moved to Cleveland, and for a girl whose known very little other than Syracuse,NY and Grove City, PA, it's been an interesting transition to say the least. I don't mind living alone, though I do bake more and I am slowly learning to master the omelet, but living in a big city can get you down. And Cleveland is just the right size to be a total downer. See, there's not so much going on like NY, LA, Boston or Chi-town that a single girl could distract herself with. And there's not as much hiking, skiing or green grass around to satisfy the hipster country girl in my soul. (Cleveland doesn't have parks downtown like other cities, at least not ones with grass...that I've found yet) And so one gets lonely here, in fact, I think Cleveland has a better chance of crushing your soul than any other city. It doesn't swallow you whole like NY or LA, it chews you up and spits you out.

That said, it's not all bad, I like my job, I can see both buildings from my apartment, we apparently have a great art museum, theater district, and fresh market which old man winter has deterred me from exploring, and the rock n roll hall of fame and cavs are here too. But if you don't know anyone it's difficult to venture out and enjoy these things.

I miss my friends and I miss my family, and I am having a harder time meeting people than ever before. Mainly I think b/c there's some social stigma about really being friends with the people you work with (you never have this in high school and college) and no one bothers to really help you meet people (sure you have orientation and you're introduced around the office, have happy hours, but lets be honest, this is all done in an effort to get you to cooperate with your peers for the benefit of the company. Just get to know each other enough, but you're not going to find your bf or bff at work) If you have any sort of faith, finding friends can be even harder. Trying to find someone who would rather go to the movies than get wasted on a Saturday night is surprisingly hard to do these days, especially with the "young professionals": we have a lot of money and no one but ourselves to spend it on.

When talking to my friends about this dilemma, especially when I was back at my Alma Mater last weekend, the question inevitability arises: "Have you found a good church yet?" sometimes said in curiosity, but more often than not, as if the affirmative answer holds the key to all my troubles. Oh you haven't met anyone, well have you found a good church? oh you need something to do on weekends, have you found a good church, oh I'm sorry you miss your friends here but have you found a good church?

What these people fail to realize is that I had a good church, a great one, I still do. The problem is I am estranged from it. No I'm not talking about a building or a denomination. I'm talking about the relationships I had while at grove city. Ones I still am trying to maintain through letters, emails and phone calls, but its not the same. I imagine this is how the early church felt with their leaders and friends spread out around the globe. Paul did not cease to encourage his brothers and sisters when he was far from them, and he often longed to be with them. But his place was elsewhere and he needed to be focused there. Lucky for him, he usually had at least one guy with him.

I moved out here alone, and while I must be forward looking, it's hard not to compare the churches I go to, to the one I had. To yearn for the people who already know me intimately. To not have to start over.

It also makes me wonder, what to you makes a good church? What do they mean have I found a good church? Actually I got this great little place where we're having grape kool aid on Sunday? nope. how do we measure a church? is it what's "right for us", are the teachings scriptural? Let me tell you, if they aren't, it is a bad church, get out, get out now. But I wouldn't be going to a church where the teachings aren't biblical, and my friends know that so what do they mean? When catching up with a classmate who was also there last weekend, he asked me that question, and I said, well, I've found a church, (it's not hard to do, look in the yellow pages, talk to anyone you know, go online and search for your cities churches, read an online statement of faith etc) but I'm not sure I wanna plug in yet, it's a little 'seeker friendly' which is great, especially downtown, but I think I want to be around a body that's more mature in their faith (see Hebrews 5:11-14 if you disagree with me). But I'm making sure I'm going to church every Sunday, somewhere, so that I can at least try to meet new people.

But what I also said to this classmate was that I haven't found anything like Grace (a church I went to while at school) and his response was "well it's not about Grace, it's about God" which took me back, and I thought, wow, way to call me out, you're right. It's not...except that it is... the thing I love about Grace is the people, the genuine love they have for each other, worshiping with others who I know would hold me accountable, who truly desire to know how I'm doing, what I'm struggling with and how they can help me. That we break bread together and recite the liturgy (which as an intellectual I love, but as a generally emotional worshiper, am surprised that I would like a church with a liturgical base) and pray with each other, striving to grow more in our Lord. I miss that. and I haven't found that in a church yet...and here's why...I haven't connected with the people in a church yet. Finding a good church is really really hard. It's not something you can do in a month and a half (how long I've been here)because it's not just about the doctrine or the worship or the preaching, those, in some form are in every church. What makes it a good church is how the people interact, how they love each other. And that is something that takes time to experience. With Grace it was easy. I already knew all the people from college, and so to go there and say it was a good church was easy for me. Pastor Ethan's teaching was strong and biblical, I enjoyed the liturgy, and thanks to my brothers and sisters, left feeling uplifted and full of the joy of the Lord (manifested by their love for me).

Now I feel like I'm going to church to go. Because I should, when I could talk to God just as easily at home. I could call up a spiritual mentor and seek their wisdom as easily as I could that of some pastor. This is why it's not easy to find a good church. Because as the pastor at the church I've been attending said this morning. It should not be about the building. The church is not the building. It's the body, and we are called to come together and support each other, which is why I wish when someone asked me in response to my sadness and loneliness, "have you found a good church yet" they would instead say, I'm sorry sister, what can I do, how can I help. Could I call you more, do you like letters, what if I took time to visit, or I have a friend out there I could introduce you to. Why do we think that because we no longer worship together because of distance we must be separated? That it's someone else's job to shepherd that person? It's not.

A good church is a wonderful thing. Don't let it become an excuse for you not intentionally pursuing a relationship with someone. Don't make it the be all end all. Because here's the rub...it's not about a church, it's about God. But when I moved away to Cleveland I didn't move away from God. I moved away from my church. From my friends and believers who strengthened me. I have God, He is always with me. What I need is for his children to come alongside me, and me alongside them. that's the thing...if it's not about *insert churches name* then it's not about finding "a good church" Overall it's about communion with our Lord alongside our brothers and sisters. and in a mediocre church I can do that, but when it comes to needing someone to be with me and pray and just spend time with me, I need a good church. I don't care if some of that church is spread out (technology eliminates that excuse) and I do need a good church here, but it may not come for a while.

So next time someone comes to you with troubles, especially if it's someone distanced from you, don't ask them if they've "found a good church" be that good church for them. Encourage them to worship with believers where they are, but don't think just because you are separated from them by distance you are no longer your brothers keeper. Be a good church.

For Souvenir & Other Women.

When I picked up her picture I couldn't put it back down. I tried to, I tried to make excuses in my head, I don't have the money, I don't have a job, how could I take repsonsibility of a child? I had friends who had sponsored, my friend Mel said she never had to worry about making her payments, God always provided. It hit me then that I was just a vessel, and so I went back to the table. I scanned the faces looking for, I don't know, what do people look at when they scan those? The cutest kid? The kid in the worst country? My eyes fell on Souvenir and I couldn't look away. I knew she was the one. I picked her up, still hestitant if I could commit to taking care of her, even from miles and miles away. I just felt convicted to make her life better. I had just read Devil on the Cross by Ngugi the year before for literary criticism, I think it's technically out of print, but if you can find it, read it. And I felt convicted about the very real hardships women in other countries are still facing.

Today is international women's day,a "global day celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future." Today I'm thinking and praying about little Souvenir, that she would be protected from rape and other male abuse, that she would find drinking water, and food for her family, that she would be kept free from the burden that is HIV, that she could go to school and learn, and love learning as much as I do. That she would grow up to be a strong vibrant woman, the head of her household.

For me, today is not so much about equality, in the workplace, or in my relationships, it's not about, women losing their jobs because they got pregnant, or getting paid less than men. Though I think these things are unfair, what I'm focused on is making sure girls like Souvenir get to grow up in a world that respects them. That she would not be seen as weak or easily manipulated because she is a woman. No matter what your views on today are (and I've heard plenty of ridiculous ones this morning) remember that there are little girls out there who should know that they are beautiful and loved. They should know that they are precious and do not deserve to be abused or in pain. They should know that they can do anything, even if it is "just" staying home and managing their family, because that is not an easy task.

nor is it always enough for us. Some of us are strong intellectual women who crave a family, but also desire to be something, to bring something else of worth into the world, as a woman and a writer I struggle with this tension but I also revel in it. That I was created to be whatever I want to be, and my parents loved me enough and supported me enough to let me be whatever I want to be. I pray that Souvenir feels the same thing.

I hope you understand today that it's not about equality in everything, it is, for me, equality in the important things. Her safety, her understanding, her value of herself as a person and not a lesser creature. I hope you will understand, and maybe even help.

Daughter you wear my name, those are my eyes keep em raised.

Chad Stokes has been haunting my mind since I moved to Cleveland. Since I live downtown now, I walk pretty much everywhere, and everywhere I walk I pass by a homeless man of woman on the street asking me to help them out. The other night Peaches was watching my friend's money exchange hands as hers shook "from the cold." Today I passed a man on a corner selling newspapers. I admire this, and these are the only guys I'll give change to. The newspaper is put out by a local shelter and some of the articles are written by the guys on the street. The sellers wear badges with their names on them and ask for whatever you can spare in exchange for the paper.

To make it easier on my conscience, and force of habit, I rarely care small bills or change, so when I tell them I can't help them out today, I mean it. I don't have change. and When I offer them a homemade cookie as consolation from the container in my hands, they shake their heads and so no thank you miss. I hear the repetition of the phrase "could you help me get somethin to eat" over and over as I walk to and from work each day and inevitably I too try to avoid eye contact as I meet the speaker. Enter Chetro. "he wasn't beggin' he was just keepin' time with his cup. You go on and believe that, and keep your eyes straight up." The lyrics to Gunship Politico haunt my mind, provoking questions.

"do you think if you don't look at him he'll go away?" "Do you think if you pretend to cough, or dial a number on you're phone he won't know you're ignoring him" "Why don't you help him?" "Do you think that just because you spent a week volunteering once you have any idea what HIS life is like?" "Do you really think that just because you don't have spare change, you don't have change to spare?"

The thing is, I know not to give them money, not because I assume they're alla boose hounds or that they wouldn't buy food with it. I know that places like the salvation army and rescue mission can help them more, and that the men who are going to them for help really want it and want what they cna give. Especially since you have to be clean to live at the mission. I have shared meals with these men, and stories. I have heard their testimonies and experienced their rejections and their baptisms. When I pass the men on the street I don't just see a homeless guy, I see Will, and Ace and the other men I shared breakfast lunch and dinner with for a week. I hear their stories in my head and it makes me want to know the stories of these new men in this new city. It makes my heart break that I look away just like everyone else.

It's hard to do anything else. Managers of shelters will tell you not to give the men money, that it's better to donate to the shelter so they can get the men what they need. But how many people do you think walk by these men shaking their heads and justify not reaching out to them because "they would just spend it on alcohol anyways"and never do anything else. I do it every day. I know the stories, I heard the lies first hand, and I adviced my team about them when we volunteered at the mission. But just because they lie to you, they tell you a story that either they think will make you help them, or that they wish were the truth, it doesn't make them any less needy.

So what do I do about the haunting voices of Chad Stokes and Jacob Dylan tormenting my conscience wherever I go? I write a blog post. I pray for the men, and I think that when I'm not living pay check to pay check I'll be able to do more for them. I remember that I've been told by people who work closely with these men everyday that I shouldn't give them money. I cut them off to save their breath and smile apolgetically as they say "thanks anyways sweetheart" and move on to the next pedestrian. and my heart breaks. and I hope that someone who reads this who can reach out, will reach out and buy a paper or give a donation to the mission or the Y or the salvation army. Or even better buy them lunch or dinner or a breakfast sandwhich and a cup of coffee.

Nothing

This is one of those nights when you want nothing more than to write but you sit staring at the blank page unable to commit yourself to anything of substance. Well not you, me. I'm staring it a blank page wondering why I can't think of anything to write and praying that whatever ghost inspired ginsberg would posess me and breathe life into my hands, into the keys. Wondering if I write about nothing long enough, will something come. Wishing I knew where to find inspiration and thinking of everything and nothing at once. craving sleep but yearning to do something more with my life.
The line keeps running through my mind: "I saw the best minds of my generation"... who are the best minds of my generation? where are they hiding, why haven't I met them, why aren't I one of them? could I find them and follow them around.

SEO day 3

Hullo Dad, and anyone else who happens to read this. My humblest apologies for the delay in posts, but my life as been rather hectic lately.
For the inspiration on these verses.
On Monday I started a new job as a content writer at Rosetta, an advertising agency in Cleveland. This morning I got my first indepth introduction to exactly what I will be doing. Search Engine Optimization is structuring your webpage, and writing content for said webpage in such away as to increase the visibility within organic search engine results. (aka the ones not sponsored/paid for) I have a much better understanding of what this is, now I just need to figure out how to apply my flowery writing skills in order to dominate this task. It's my job to create a page that will drive search engines and therefore, users to it based on what I write, and how I write it.

This is still a relatively new method in the agency world and very new to me. We write for users first, but then optimize that content for search engines. My skills so far have honed in on writing for professors first and others second with little or no focus on what search engines want to see. If Gertrude Stein wanted Hemingway to quit his job as a journalist to focus on his writing, I shudder to think of her opinion of my chosen career. If Hemingway had spent time and energy writing in form and content appropriate for his paper, we would not have several great ex-patriot American novels. However, If Hemingway had not been a journalist, he would not have developed the sentence style which characterizes said novels.

While Stein felt he could not be a writer while being a journalist, Hemingway, truly, could not have been one without having first been the other. Part of being a writer is learning how to mimic the voices of others, the styles of others, and through this you discover your own voice.

SEO content writers are crafty, intentional, concise, and even, as those who disapprove of the ad industry in general might say, sneaky. Search Engines are not witty, they don't understand puns or double entendre, and they don't care if your English professor would have found your writing profound and insightful. That being said, you, or rather, I, do not need to eliminate these elements from our writing. We must write for the reader first, understanding that they will appreciate our slight witicisms, but prominantly focus our strategic keywords at the top-lefthand side of the page where both reader and search engine begin their scan. Stategically placed keywords will draw the search engine to the site without overloading the reader.

As consumers, you, and my colleagues in the English department, might find this underhanded. However, all we are doing is helping you find what you need, and our clients happen to have it. Without SEO content writers you would scour the internet looking for the right site, with the product you were looking for. We'd much rather do the work for you, it helps us, helps our clients, and we get all warm and fuzzy helping you too! So when you're looking to build your own watch, and you want to know who will let you do that, you go to Google. If you search "buils your own watch" Fossil is the second website that will showup in the search results. This is not just because we manipulated the website design, it's because that's what they do, and that's what you want them to do. It brings a whole new meaning to online matchmaking services.

All that to say, I'm pretty excited about this new job and the ability to do what I love share my gift with others. Who knows, maybe someday it will help me to write the next great American novel.