Modesty: Inside or Out?

       Today, I swam laps in a two-piece swim suit.  Not one of those two-piece swimsuits that meets in the middle and from far away you would mistake for a regular bathing suit, a real, honest-to-goodness, two-piece swimsuit.  Now I know that may not seem like a big deal, but it's a first for me.  And no, it's not because I'm so fat or self-conscious that I never wore one before.  It's just that in my family I was raised to believe that bikinis are immodest and two-piece swimsuits should be avoided at all costs.
       I didn't wake up this morning and decide to be rebellious and do things my own way. It was much less dramatic than that.  It happened like this:
       I got out of my first test of the semester at 9 o'clock this morning and felt like swimming, but when I got to the pool and looked in my cubby I realized that I had taken all my swimsuits home except for my bright red, two-piece, life guard suit.  However, I really wanted to swim.  The test hadn't gone well and I was tired, disappointed, and pretty stressed out.  So, I bit the bullet and wore it.
       I'm not exactly sure how I feel about this.  I mean, I do know how I feel about it in the physical sense.  I liked it.  There was something nice about the way the water rushed across my bare skin, but as far as moral implications go?  I'm torn.  I didn't really feel all that immodest in it and only slightly more self conscious than I do in my normal Speedo swimsuit.
       I've always adhered to the rather old-fashioned Christian notion that skin (especially on girls)  should remain covered (especially when in swim wear).  I used to wear surf shorts and a rash guard whenever I went swimming in obedience to my parents' wishes, but I've begun to doubt the reasoning behind it.  After all, guys will be guys.  They'll check you out whether you're walking into class fully (and modestly) clothed, in a one piece swimming laps, or sunbathing at the beach in a bikini.
       Does it really make that much difference whether or not you have a piece of tightly fitted fabric stretched across your midsection?  I'm not sure, but it seems to me that much of the modesty that should be sought after comes more from a girl's attitude than her clothing.  Of course, there are some outfits that are knowingly provocative and rather inappropriate.  Some who would argue that any and all bikinis fall into that category, but there are people who would say the same thing about my Speedo.
       So what's the answer?  I have no idea.  I do know that I'm seriously considering buying  a bikini and wearing it to the beach.  I also am pretty sure my parents will be less than pleased to hear that.  We shall see.

Encouraged

Lately, I have begun to feel like I am sinking back into the same pit of depression that I was trapped in last semester, weighted down by a combination of utter exhaustion and unhappiness. It's just so hard to have someone that I love and have shown consistent thoughtfulness and support for imply that I deserve his complete physical and emotional withdrawal from our relationship.  However, throughout this storm of emotions it has been the occasional snarky remark, offhand comment, and unexpected text that have kept my hopes for the future just a little brighter.  These are my top 5 phrases of encouragement from the past few days.


"oh marissa, how modest you can be.  these little things (whether you know it or not) boost your cool points every time" -myles

‎"You're a pretty interesting person. I might even talk to you in my free time."     
-professor peterson

"how you doing?  emotionally and programatically?" -kayton

"You know you're one of the strongest people I know... Strong as in you can put up with life's crap and still be able to push on. I admire that :)" -matt

"No, you are not nosy.  Whoever said you were nosy, just tell them to SHUT. UP."  -julian

His Words

"For we were saved in this hope,
 but hope that is seen is not hope;
 for why does one still hope for what he sees?
 But if we hope for what we do not see,
 we eagerly wait for it with perseverance."

                                         -Romans 8: 24-25

Shattered

And the cuts keep coming
The blows keep falling
Till my shattered heart is nothing but fragments of vibrant color
Scattered across the ground
Fading quickly to colorless shards 
As the life oozes out of my broken vessels.


I look on 
Stricken with dismay and horror
I thought the danger was past
Yet, in my moment of unguarded affection,
My heart is struck from my sheltering grasp
And broken into a million pieces.


Just as the cuts were beginning to heal
As the pain subsided
The blows fall once more
Pummeling my very soul
And I am left
Bruised and afraid.


But in those ruined pieces
This mess of blood and tears
There is a beauty
Unique and undeniable
Though it cost me all I have
It is not in vain.


For that fading splash of light 
It is a token of what I can be
That even my hard heart
When softened by love
And shattered by life
Can make something lovely in the end. 

Niele

It seems that I cannot escape the adjectives that I am continually being labeled with.  I'm weird, socially inept, silly and stuck, and now I find that I am also nosy.  There are really only two people who keep applying these unwanted descriptions and they happen to be my two closest guy friends.  It hurts to have the people I care about describe me in such unpleasant terms.  Sometimes, they're saying it half jokingly, sometimes they're just being mean, and sometimes they're dead serious, but only occasionally are they correct.

weird - Of a strikingly odd or unusual character; strange.


I am more than willing to admit it.  I am weird.  I have 11 siblings.  I never spent a day in school until I started college at age seventeen.  I have never kissed a boy.  Most of my life is very much different from what is regularly considered "normal."  Still, you could also consider me unique or rare, but nope.  It's always weird.


socially inept - Displaying a lack of judgment, sense, or reason; foolish, bungling, clumsy, or incompetent in a social setting


Socially inept?  No. I have spent time in many different social settings and filled many different roles.  I have never had trouble adjusting to my surroundings.


Silly and stuck - Obviously wrong and stuck. i.e. you have a plan somewhere in your head and do not want to give it up


I can definitely be silly, but, in all honesty, I have not yet met a human being who can't be.  Stuck?  Occasionally, yes, I become fixated on an idea, yet at the same time I am constantly adjusting my decisions, opinions, and actions to reflect the advice and wisdom I receive from others.  


Niele - curious, inquisitive, nosy


Surprisingly, I think this one bothers me the most.  How can I be classified as nosy?  Curious? Inquisitive?  Yes, I am both of those  things, without a doubt.  However, my friend implied that I am more than that.  He implied that I am too curious and too inquisitive.  He called me nosy and that hurts.  I am not nosy.  I have spent a lot of time around some very nosy people and my level of curiosity in no way matches the amount of prying and prodding they have done into my personal life, thoughts, and decisions. 


So why did I write this post?  Just to rant?  Yeah, pretty much.  I resent being labeled.  Especially when the labels are inaccurate and are given without any supporting evidence.  My friend, Julian, gave me some words of comfort today along with some pretty solid advice that I am sorely tempted to follow.  "No, you are not nosy.  Whoever said you were nosy, just tell them to SHUT. UP."  

Exhaustion

The semester is only beginning and my days are already stretching into the wee hours of the morning.  I don't particularly mind it.  There is something nice about the solitude of early morning, but the lack of sleep is beginning to get to me.  I'm starting to feel a little bit sick and that is not acceptable.  Especially as I embark on a strict work-out routine to improve my swimming and beat my new rival.  So, with that said, I bid you a good night.  I'm off to study for my quiz tomorrow and then it's off to bed for me.  If I get there before ten, I will be one happy girl.

Shadows and Sunshine

       Last semester was a really hard time for me.  My best friend transferred to a different university and it just so happened that my best friend was also my boyfriend and when he transferred he broke up with me.  I was devastated.  I loved him so much.  When he looked at me I felt my worth.  When he held me in his arms it sent shivers of excitement and delight to my very core.  When he said he loved me it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard and I was sure that it would always be true.  And then he was gone and I was left to carry on.  Heartbroken.
       This experience made me question everything about myself.  Was it something about my character?  I've always been a good kid, but perhaps not good enough?  Was it my personality?  I can be very forceful and straightforward, but it's never caused friction in my friendships.  I usually make friends easily and most people I know seem to enjoy spending time with me.  So what had I done wrong?  Perhaps, I wasn't pretty enough.  I could see that one.  I'm not exactly a stellar example of beauty, but what could I change?  Was I too fat?  I began to lose weight simply because food no longer seemed worth eating.  I wanted to know so badly what I had done wrong.  What I could have changed to make him stay?
       My self worth plummeted.  My grades plummeted.  My normal cheerfulness and positivity vanished.  Concerned co-workers checked up on me.  They kept asking why I looked so sad.  Friends worried about me constantly.  They did everything in their power to console me, but to no avail.
       Then reality came knocking on the door in the form of a B on my Calculus 3 midterm.  My professor called me into his office, sat me down in front of his desk, closed the door, and asked me what was wrong.  It all came out, my sorrow, my frustration, my questions, the whole sad story.  An hour later I was still crying my eyes out with my face buried in my arms.  My professor listened and nodded along, waiting for me to finish.  Finally, I had said it all.  Every doubt and fear, every question, all the thoughts that had swirled endlessly in my mind.  I told him about how I couldn't focus anymore, not in class, not on tests, not on hw.  He said he had noticed.  He could see how distracted I was in class and had wondered what had made my attitude so cocky and uncaring.  It was a huge relief to get it off my chest.  Just crying for a while made me feel better, but it wasn't over.
       Even after receiving guidance, comfort, and some gentle reproof about the folly of letting myself become stuck in this quagmire of despair, I still didn't see how I could keep going.  I tried my best to change my attitude and I succeeded to some extent.  I paid more attention in class and managed to pull my grades up a bit, but I was still confused and hurting.  I hated school.  I hated life.  I wanted to hate my friend.
       My professor continued to counsel me.  He helped me work through some of my emotional turmoil, especially the feelings of inadequacy that had plagued me.  Every time I talked to him he assured me that it would get better.  That eventually the pain would go away and I would be happy again.  In fact, he always said that not only would I be happy, but that when the mess I was in now was over I would actually be happier than I had been before it started.  He said that the bitter would only make the sweet that much more appealing.  I didn't believe him.  I was so depressed that it seemed things could never be alright.
       Then one morning, just a couple of days before this semester started, I woke up and realized that my professor was right.  The world was a happy place.  I felt so light and free.  Nothing had changed really, my friend was still gone, he was still "just a friend", and I still missed him terribly.  Something had changed in my heart though and, somehow, everything was better.  I'm still not quite sure what happened.  I suppose I just realized that it wasn't fair, to myself or anyone else, to let my happiness, self-image, and attitude toward life be based so exclusively on the actions (or inactions) of a single person.  Maybe everything will work out between my friend and I.  I hope with all my heart that they will, but maybe they won't.  Either way, I decided it was time to start bringing joy and smiles to those around me, instead of sadness and tears.  The world is beautiful and I am ever so happy.

A Note on Notes

I do not like to take notes.  Why?

1. Taking notes means I have to pay some amount of attention to what my professor is saying and what is on the slides and/or board, which means I can't be completely lost in my own thoughts.

2. Taking notes is boring, very boring, especially if the class is boring.  If the class is interesting, I want to pay attention to the lecture not to transcribing it into my notebook.

3.  With an average of 3.8 hours of classes every day my hand is beginning to get pretty sore by my last class.  Particularly on Wednesday, when I have 5 hours of classes spaced out from 8 to 3.

4.  Did I mention how much I hate taking notes?

So, as much as possible, I have avoided taking notes throughout my college career, but I decided to end that trend this semester.  Why?

1.  I am taking 7 classes.

2.  I need to maintain a 4.0 GPA.

3.  I really like to spazz and/or facebook and/or Skype and/or g-chat during class and that will occasionally result in my retaining very little of a lecture's content for future reference.

4.  I am a poor example to my fellow students with my completely chill classroom attitude.

It is because of the aforementioned reasons that I have begun to take notes and it is because I have begun to take notes in all 7 of my classes that I have, in the first fortnight of this semester, accumulated more notes than I did throughout the entirety of the past 2 semesters combined.  Crazy, right?

His Words

"For I am the LORD your God 
   who takes hold of your right hand 
and says to you, Do not fear; 
   I will help you."
                                 -Isaiah 41:13 

Across an Ocean

Yesterday, I visited my friend in his dorm room,

And saw the towels hanging haphazardly by the door

I sat on his desk watching the shadows move across his face as he spoke.

Yesterday, I could see his hazel green eyes,

And listen as he told me stories from his day, his hands illustrating his words.

I could see his face crinkle with laughter, twinge in disgust, and then subside into its cool mask. 

I could hear him say hello, see him smile and hear his teasing voice,

But I could not greet him with a hug.

Today, I looked another friend in the face,

And listened as she read me an essay she had written just that morning.

I followed her through her house and up the hill that climbed steeply behind it.

Today, I stood beside her looking out across Palolo Valley,
And saw the skyscrapers of Waikiki etching their sharp silhouettes against the horizon.
I watched white clouds drifting lazily in the bright sky that arched high above the crowded houses.

I could see the sun shining down on those glittering roof tops,
But I could not feel its heat.

Yesterday and Today
I came face to face with two dear friends
I listened to their voices and watched them smile

My heart leaped with joy at the chance to share their stories
My excitement spilling onto my face and filling me with happiness

Everyday
I wish that it were real
That the distance would disappear
That I could break through the fragile screens that separate us
That I could, with the click of a button, bridge the ocean between us and pull them into my arms

Creeper

I was just sitting in class, minding my own business and checking some resources my professor posted online, when I look up and see THIS on my browser's facebook tab.

That's just creepy.  No two ways about it.  I see you, too.  I see you, too.

Props to my awesome CS 321 classmate, Jamie, for his lovely, stalker post.  

Flowers

Classmates: Friends and Foe

I have a lot of awesome classmates.  The kind that make me smile whenever I see them.  I walk into class, see their backpack leaned against the desk, and instantly the world is a better place.  Before the professor gets to class we compare notes, talk over homework, and share the most interesting happenings of the past few days, whether bragging about a new phone or complaining about our boss who can't seem to get our schedules straight.  During lecture we share an occasional smile or roll of the eyes as I scribble down one of our professor's especially funny or appropriate comments.  Occasionally, we decide to throw a facebook party and half the class will be on facebook, commenting on the lecture, our fellow classmates, or each other.  Sometimes we'll start to write a reply before the last person has posted their comment, because the truth is we're sitting side by side and, often as not, can see exactly what the other is typing.

Then there is that one classmate who isn't quite so fun.  She comes into class late and I have to conceal my disappointment that she showed up at all.  She sits right in front of the teacher and answers all the questions before I even have the chance to open my mouth, but that doesn't bother me.  It's the way she always speaks which really gets to me.  Her voice is full of this infuriatingly, cocky confidence, even though I know from experience that, like as not, she's wrong.  Still, the professor smiles encouragingly at her, inviting her continued comments and wrong answers.  All I can do is bite back the sarcastic remarks that come rushing to my mind and count down the minutes till I can flee from class and her frustrating presence.

Chatter

The chatter at work fluctuates.

It is a silence punctuated by bursts of conversation and laughter.

A silly story from class is shared or perhaps a funny YouTube clip and laughter breaks out.

A juicy bit of gossip is retold and tongues run fast but quiet, evaluating, responding, and expanding.

The hours pass and the shifts change with salutations and farewells all around.

The sun shines and I smile.

The chatter of class is hushed.

The rapid clicks of keyboards under flying fingers.

There is the blink and flash of facebook notifications and new chat message alerts.

Silent laughter erupts and curious faces peer from behind their monitors.  

Tabs open and close, and the pretense of attention is given to the teacher, who, unperturbed, drones on.

The clicks continue and I smile. 

The chatter of home is noisy

The voices around me rise and fall,

I can hear the fierce exclamations, loud interjections, and laughing replies of the children's conversation.

There is the steady, deep tones of a man's voice as he reads a story book to his little brothers.

The vacuum hums loudly fading in and out of the conversation as it moves from room to room.

I look and listen and smile.

Fix Me

"When you love someone, but it goes to waste.  Could it be worse?"

I love Coldplay's song Fix You.  It describes my life so perfectly sometimes.  It seems like I'm always trying, but no matter what I do I keep falling farther and farther behind.  Well, tonight as I studied I was listening to Fix You (on repeat, mind you) and while I listened I was thinking (yes, thinking).  Stuck in this haze that is known as "studying for finals" my mind often wanders off to extremely tangential and often trivial topics.  This time it happened to be the topic of love going to waste.  There have been two very distinct times in my life where I felt that my love was simply thrown away.  It seemed to me that I had sullied my heart and squandered my time completely in vain.

Tonight something happened to change that perspective a bit.  As I listened to Coldplay a thought struck me, "Can real love ever go to waste?"  I've been reading 1 Corinthians 13 throughout the past week and one of the verses stood out to me, "Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.  Love never fails."  How can a love that deep be a complete waste?  Sure, it may be painful.  Perhaps, it will turn your world upside down and inside out.  It may even leave you struggling to remember who you really are, but it can also leave you stronger, more hopeful, more faithful, and more persistent.  I don't think that can be called a waste.  To love someone like our Savior loves us?  No, definitely not a waste.  Scary?  Sad?  Uncertain?  Heartbreaking?  Certainly.  Just remember that, "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."  Surrender your heart to Jesus and He WILL fix you.  

12/13/2010

Missing

       You know how it feels to fall off your bike and rip your knee open on the asphalt?  At first it hurts really bad. You keep thinking about it, because the pain keeps it fresh in your mind.  You sit next to your bike nursing your wound unwilling to get back on just yet.  Eventually you get back up and start riding your bike again and before you know it you're having so much fun that you forget about how much your knee hurts.  

       It's just the same way when a close friend leaves.  The difference is that instead of your knee it's like you get a tear in your heart.  It hurts so badly that for a while you aren't sure if you can keep going.  Everything fades out of focus, even the important things, except for the memories of that one person who isn't there anymore.  Yet, try as you might to stop it, life goes on.  You wake up everyday and each time the hurt and missing is a little less, until one morning you realize that you're okay again.  Sure, you still miss your friend, but it's not the same constant, unrelenting feeling that it was before.

        But you can't ride your bike forever.  After a while it's time to go home and when you get there you realize that even though you forgot about your cut it's still there....bloody and dirty.  Out comes the rubbing alcohol and wet cloth and suddenly, as the cloth wipes away the blood and grime, the alcohol hits your raw skin and all the pain comes rushing back.....sharper this time....and burning like fire.  

       It's like finally seeing that friend who you missed so much.  All the old hurt comes back....stinging your eyes....making you bounce with nervousness and excitement.  Memories start tumbling through your head and you realize that your wound wasn't gone it was only covered by the dust of passing time.  You bite your tongue to hold back the tears and as you look into your friend's face you can see some of your own turmoil mirrored there.  You wonder if it will always be this way.  Month after month....semester by semester.....year to year....until the cut finally closes and the missing subsides and all you're left with is a scar to remember them by........or will you one day be together again?  Like a fairytale with a happy ending?  Someone driving by shouts at you and asks if you're leaving soon.  Suddenly you realize that you're still standing there in the busy parking lot in front of your friend.  So you shake away the thoughts and try to smile.  You wave goodbye and life goes on.

1/9/2011

Bullet to the brain?

I've been hearing Grenade by Bruno Mars an awful lot lately.  It seems to be playing several times an hour whenever I'm working and/or working out.  I was thinking about the lyrics and it occurred to me that I could sing the chorus to nearly every one of my friends.  Seriously!  I would give my life in a heartbeat to save one of you guys.  Ever since I accepted Christ as my savior as a little girl I haven't really felt afraid of death.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't WANT to die.  I have way too many things left to do with my life, but I'm definitely not scared to die.  I would much rather die than see one of my friends lose their life when I could have somehow prevented it.  However, there are very few people in this world who I would LIVE my life for.  After all it's MY life.  I can live it how I want to, right?  Nope.  Wrong.  

 "Or do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and you are not your own? For you were bought at a price; therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God’s." 

Now that verse always makes me sort of scared.  I'm a pretty independent person.  I don't like being pushed around by people.  I have my own ideas, my own plans, and I want to live my own life my own way, but my life isn't mine.  "in your body and in your spirit, which are God's"  and that's where it gets tough.  He's not asking me to GIVE my life for Him (at least not yet).  He just wants me to LIVE my life for Him.  I was thinking about how very hard it is to live for someone.  To sacrifice your hopes, your plans, your pride for them.  It made me think of how the chorus of Grenade might sound if Jesus were singing it to us.  

Would you swallow your pride for me?  Would you say your goodbyes for me? 

I know you would die for me, but would you live your life for me? 

You would take any pain for me, but would you carry the shame for me?  

Yeah, you'd catch the grenade, you'd throw yourself in front of that train,  

you say you'd do anything, but I'm not asking for your death.  I died to give you life. 

So I'm asking you now, will you live for me?  Will you give your heart to me? 

Will you risk all your plans for me?  Will you join your hands with me?   

I already gave everything for you.  I don't need anything from you.  Just follow me.