What does caring less look like?

How does one care less without givimg up altogether on something?

One day I was talking to my managers about some things that were frustrating me at work…and I was so upset I staryed crying.

One of my managers said “It’s refreshing to see someone who cares so much” and I responded,”I wish I didn’t care!”

Part of the reason I get so stressed at work is because I see so many people not caring and that reflects on the kind and type of job we do and the impression we leave on our customers.

One lady standing in line when I worked said “this is the slowest Starbucks in the city”…that made me mad cause I try my best and I hate that is what is going around about us.

Someone once told me that i’m too sensitive and that I shouldn’t take things personally. After all ‘it is just coffee’, and yet after 6 years I can’t seem to get that.

And so I wonder what does caring a reasonable amount look like? What does being responsible for myself inspite/despite others look like? How do I care less without changing the core of who I am and just feeling despair that things just won’t change

it will be 7 ye…


it will be 7 years in august.

7 years.

hard to believe.

7 years ago I was planning on getting married in August. I broke it off for so many reasons.

and there are days that I wonder ‘what if’…and how my life would be different.  and yet i know I made the right decision. I would have been miserable. it would have been a very bad decision…one in which i would have been very unhappy, which I was coming to understand right before I broke it off.

and yet it seems like such a different lifetime ago. Like i don’t really know that person I was anymore. I guess in some sense, I felt like it would fulfill my idea to get married by 25…to have the ‘happiness’ that i was so looking for. to be with someone who seemed to adore me. and yet there were so many aspects that become red flags that just started revealing to me little issues that I had previously been willing to overlook.

in some sense, i guess you could reflect on my fear of commitment…but at the same time, there were so many ways in which I knew i would be supressed in this relationship if i remained in it.

whats with the frills?

this post has been percolating in my mind for a bit.

last weekend I talked to my friend L about this very thing and it actually came to me when i was chatting with her.

i was thinking about my view of myself as a female. and how i don’t really think that i’m very pretty or have much to offer as far as being a woman goes. in some sense i’ve rejected who I am as a woman.

growing up I wanted to have attention. and since i always felt like an outsider in some sense in my younger years i would be willing to be used as a go between in relationships just so I could have some interaction with the guys I was crushing on but knew (or thought that i knew) would never look at me twice.

growing up i did have some good guy friends, but it was platonic even though i had a crush on all of them at one point or another and then came to an idea of just settling into a platonic understanding.

at some time i just came to realize that if i became like ‘one of the guys’ even talking like them and realizing what they might like in a girl….that i’d be able to hang out with them, and while not get attention of being a girl…but rather seem to remove my feminity from myself. there are times when i knew that i was rejecting a very core part of who I am…but it got to be something that was easier and easier to turn to.

when i first got my hair all cut off and short…one of my teachers sons (a 6yr old) told me i looked like a boy…and that cut me to the core. i had never felt more ugly. i went out and bought makeup both times i got my hair cut in the hopes of sharing that i was a girl…i just wanted my hair short.

lately i’ve gotten my hair cut short because its easier to take care of…and so i’ve come to terms with it. but i wonder if in some sense i’m okay with not really looking feminine. i love things with frills sometimes, sparkles sometimes..and yet there are some things i see that i can’t just wrap my head around.

so then i get to thinking…i don’t even know where to start to one: have an understanding of who God sees me as and has created me to be and two: what a true view of feminity would be in my life. i don’t really know who I am…well i know aspects of myself but not a well rounded aspect. however, i wonder if perhaps i want to know more than is mine to know.

Thoughts too loud to ignore

Her thoughts were too loud to ignore.

She doesn’t know that if she doesn’t find joy in the moments, she’s going to lose those months to a black abyss of needless worry.

There is NO wisdom in fear.

She has been given all that she needs for this one day.

This day can be wasted without a single person knowing its gone. But this one day, by itself, has worth.

Chatting at the sky excerpts

annie dillard writes thoughts

Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

When you write, you lay out a line of words. The line of words is a miner’s pick, a woodcarvers gouge, a surgeon’s probe. You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself in new territory. Is it a dead end or have you located the real subject? You will know tommorrow, or this time next year.  You make the path boldly and follow it fearfully. You go where the path leads. At the end of the path, you find a box canyon. You hammer out reports, dispatch bulletins.

The writing has changed, in your hands, and in a twinkling from an expression of your notions to an epistemological tool. The new place interests you because it is not clear. You attend. In your humility, you lay down words carefully, watching all the angles. Now the earlier writing looks soft and careless. Process is nothing; erase your tracks. The path is not the work. I hope your tracks have grown over; I hope birds ate the crumbs; i hope you will toss it all and not look back.

The line of words is a hammer. You hammer against the walls of your house. You tap the walls lightly everywhere. After giving many years’ attention to these things, you might know what to listen for. Some of the walls are bearing walls,; they have to stay or everything will fall down. Other walls can go without impunity; you can hear the difference. Unfortunately, its often the bearing wall that has to go. It cannot be helped. There is only one solution, which appalls you, but there it is. Knock it out. Duck.

Courage utterly opposes the bold hope that this is such fine stuff the work needs it, or the world. Courage , exhausted stands on bare reality: this writing weakens the work. You must demolish the work and start over. you can save some of the sentences, like bricks. It will be a miracle if you can save some of the paragraphs, no matter how excellent in themselves or hard won. You can waste a year worrying about it, or you can get it over with now (are you a woman or are you a mouse?)

The part you must jettison is not only the best-written part; it is also, oddly,  that part which was to have been the very point. It is the original key passage, the passage on which the rest was to hang and from which you drew the courage to begin. Henry James knew it well and said it best in his The Spoils of Poynton, he pities the writer, in a comical pair of sentences that rises to howl: ‘Which is the work in which he hasn’t surrendered, under dire difficulty, the best thing he meant to have kept? In which indeed, before the dreadful done, doesn’t he ask himself what has become of the thing all for the sweet sake of which it was to proceed to to that extremity?”

A painting covers its tracks. Painters work from the ground up. The latest version of a painting overlays earlier versions , and obliterates them. Writers on the other hand, work from left to right. The discardable chapters are on the left. the latest version of a literary work begins somewhere in the works middle, and hardens toward the end. The earlier version remains lumpishishly on the left; the works beginning greets the reader with the wrong hand. In those early pages and chapters anyone may find bold leaps to nowhere, read the brave beginnings of dropped themes, hear a tone since abandoned, discover blind alleys, track red herrings and labouriously learn a setting now false.

there have been…


there have been times in the past when i have been told that sometimes when you are most frustrated or angered by someone it is because they are reminding you of something you yourself fail at or perhaps are reflecting back on you your own poor choice.

when Mshe starts posting about how she wants to see justice come to the world, i don’t see her doing very much. all i want to say is ‘what are YOU going to DO about it?’ and then i look at myself and the diverse things that i’m incredibly passionate about and what am I doing about it? who am i to say ‘get your butt moving’ when i am so much into the ingrained. i was going to say i enjoy sitting on my butt doing nothing, but that’s not really the case. there isn’t any joy. i know i’m stagnant, doing very much of nothing as i try to avoid what i’ve been called to do.

and when Eshe talks a bout how God is blessing her, it rankles. i mean right down to the core of me something inside me just rebels at that thought. and i’m thinking you know what God shows blessing to both the just and unjust its just the way life works…though there is mergy and grace for the forgiven…not perfect…in repentence. i understand the concept of having an affair because your husband did…it seems very immature. But then i’m back to my old distrusting ways…no way would i ever recommend anyone i know marry her because i wouldn’t trust that she wouldn’t fall into that again. if she’s been unfaithful once, then whose to say she won’t again. and yeah there are blessings and yeah we’re not perfect and we fall down…but it just so gets me when she claims blessings when its so evident that yeah there are blessings but there are also consequences for actions..and you’ve got to face those too. true i’m just seeing the side of the story she chooses to share…but it just gets under my skin.

and when i chatted with Tshe and she told me about how she loved the retreat but then people kept asking her about her disabilities and she was so frustrated cause she couldn’t believe that people would think they could just throw that out after talking to her for a bit…and i’m sure they weren’t meaning ot be rude, but it made her anxious and  upset…and wanted to be seen as more than a woman with a disability. i don’t think i would ever ask someone unless they offered up the information to me…i just don’t think of it and perhaps its not important to me because i’ve known people who have had disabilities and though i know they have them, they are more than their disability. people need to look past the outside that isn’t quite what society thinks it should be and see the person inside who is human and emotional and needing and vulnerable and loving and joyous and frustrated and heartbroken and loved and not what they are limited by. because in reality we all have limitations, some are more visual than others.

A constant refrain

Your name and face
Keep circling in my mind
I’m stuck on this idea of you
Thinking u share values and morals
Unspoken between us
All i’ve got about u is a smile and a name
Not much to go on
When your voice makes me blush
But it all just seems a game
A kind of interaction we are so known for giving
Kind of like a bartender
Knowing so much and so little all at once

And the ring question still lingers
Pushes its way to the front
I’m taking it too far,hes just being kind
not flirting,flirting in kind,
throwing a couple quips here and again
What if he has a wife, dreams, vows, kids

I know Nothing
and yet the infatuation (mind consumer that it is)