Mood: sexy
Yeah...you read that right. (And daddy you CAN keep reading...I promise).
Today I had a meeting with other Christian educators in the area. There were 5 of us. 3 are married...2 of us are single. 3 have a seminary degree...I have 2/3...and one had no formal education. 2 have kids....3 of us don't. That's an incredibly cursory glance at who we are.
As the conversations progressed, sex and the church came up. One of the educators is in the midst of a two month conversation with middle/high school students on sexuality. The idea is to promote a healthy awareness of sex...it's dangers, implications, ways to express it...all from both an emotional and physical viewpoint. She had said she wanted to discuss pornography with the kids, but decided she didn't want a lawsuit. We all laughed but then had a discussion on the subject of what is and isn't safe to talk about in a church. With children...and adults.
Here's why I'm sharing this on my blog...it's my nice thing for today. Not that I talked about sex...but that I'm doing part of what I think the church needs to do. I'm talking about it.
See, as a 26 year old single woman who happens to be employed by a church there are several stereotypes. The only one I am going to discuss (at least in this post) is the one that employees of the church fall into one of two categories: prude or sexual deviant. How did that even start? (I'm looking at you naughty priests....). I joke but in all seriousness, why can't we just be normal people with a healthy attitude about sex and sexuality? Why must we be one or the other? And I get this from every single potential date (or on the first date) that I talk to. There's always the "oh you work in the church" discussion. And there's always me trying to prove that I can be a sexual creature despite my job. Which gets old and annoying and isn't me, because there is more to me than a sexual being.
Anyway...point is. One of the educators jumped down her throat for suggesting mentioning pornography to the kids. I applauded her. If we don't talk about sex and all the aspects of human sexuality...including the dirty, messy ones (hahaha...messy.....) then the stereotypes and negativity continue. The more you educate the less there is to be afraid of. The less there is to hide. And I'm not saying sit down and watch a Ron Jeremy special with your high school youth group...but at least acknowledge that it exists. And that it's not inherently evil in nature.
They say knowledge is power. And the church is trying...or I keep hearing anyway...to embrace that. But until we acknowledge who we are...we can't tell our kids who we want them to be. Or who they can be. Or who they can't be.
It takes an honest person to acknowledge his/her sexuality in a church. And I don't intend on going to my next youth group meeting and swapping tips or advice...but I'm not going to ignore the subject either. Though...I am in a precarious position as a SINGLE woman...but that's for another day.
I hear that Jesus came to our world to understand and partake in our every human experience. I think it was...maybe the Bible that told me this? So even if you believe Jesus was completely chaste and pure...you have to admit the man at least had urges...he did, after all, experience the human life. I mean...ultimately it wasn't for him so...
No seriously. That was probably blasphemous. But...in a very sacred and special way I urge you to be honest with yourself about who you are. Sexually and otherwise. And let people get to know THAT person...not what role you think you SHOULD play. Let that be your nice thing. I promise it will yield true happiness.
Also as a nice thing...seriously watch this video...I mean when was the last time you heard this song? Oh the early 90s.....enjoy!
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
2011/01/31
2011/01/26
Peace, Love, and Jeggings
Mood: pensive
I don't usually blog first thing in the morning, unless I have something of major importance to say. And I don't. It's just that since I got home last night I've been thinking about something, and I need to get it out.
As I was doing the dishes/making dinner...and then later going through my face cleansing ritual...I kept thinking about Will & Grace and Friends and Scrubs and Sex and The City and how those shows portrayed older (slightly) people attempting to figure out life, and perhaps most important love and relationships. And when I say older I simply mean my age, the 20something. Who inevitably deals with the 30th birthday somewhere during the shows run. Or...the 35th. Whatever. Anyway, as these are the shows that I watch to comfort myself I can't help but think of how modern culture holds the ideals and beliefs of these shows to be slightly antiquated. Or is it just Iowa?
Hear me out. Every woman I know that is my age in Iowa is either married, married with children, separated, or divorced. Or some random combination of the above. If they don't fit that, they are engaged. Most of the women I know that are younger than me fit this too. In fact...all of them do. And I keep reading that society is making a swing towards younger marriages again. Women are no longer putting careers ahead of romance. Men are no longer wanting to be George Clooney. People are looking to settle down and have the family, then figure the rest out. Which is backwards from everything I've learned about modern culture since high school. You get your education, you work, you live, you figure yourself out THEN you add to your life. But it's all very egocentric until that point.
So maybe the shows aren't dated, but I am? I don't know. I do know that this year I will be 27. Which I know in the grand scheme of things isn't old, but let's face it, I'm 3 years away from 30 then. And once you're past 21 a year is NOT, in fact, a lifetime. So am I the modern 20something? Or am I the outdated model who worshiped Carrie Bradshaw, but was slightly younger than the average viewer?
Or are all modern 20somethings actually dated? Aren't we all kind of just like our parents? Young versions of them, perhaps with more education, perhaps with more money, perhaps with more independence...but aren't we SOME part of them? I maintain that we are. And that the modern 20something is a myth that is either trying to scare me into marriage or education OR convince me I can have "it all" and carry a baby and a Chanel at the same time. Dream on.
Honestly I think this "modern" 20something is kinda crap. Look, our parents experimented with drugs and sexuality. Maybe it wasn't as accepted...but most of them did at some point. And at the end of the day, they were just confused 20somethings running around, chasing the job, the car, the partner. And all they wanted was to be happy. Isn't that all we want too? To find that person that loves us despite our flaws, and our 20 minute face washing routine. To have a career that you're proud of, and hopefully somebody to cheer you on? I think so.
I think the "modern 20something" is still yesterday's 20something...we just do it all in jeggings.
PS - there may or may not be another blog later today...just really needed to get that out there
I don't usually blog first thing in the morning, unless I have something of major importance to say. And I don't. It's just that since I got home last night I've been thinking about something, and I need to get it out.
As I was doing the dishes/making dinner...and then later going through my face cleansing ritual...I kept thinking about Will & Grace and Friends and Scrubs and Sex and The City and how those shows portrayed older (slightly) people attempting to figure out life, and perhaps most important love and relationships. And when I say older I simply mean my age, the 20something. Who inevitably deals with the 30th birthday somewhere during the shows run. Or...the 35th. Whatever. Anyway, as these are the shows that I watch to comfort myself I can't help but think of how modern culture holds the ideals and beliefs of these shows to be slightly antiquated. Or is it just Iowa?
Hear me out. Every woman I know that is my age in Iowa is either married, married with children, separated, or divorced. Or some random combination of the above. If they don't fit that, they are engaged. Most of the women I know that are younger than me fit this too. In fact...all of them do. And I keep reading that society is making a swing towards younger marriages again. Women are no longer putting careers ahead of romance. Men are no longer wanting to be George Clooney. People are looking to settle down and have the family, then figure the rest out. Which is backwards from everything I've learned about modern culture since high school. You get your education, you work, you live, you figure yourself out THEN you add to your life. But it's all very egocentric until that point.
So maybe the shows aren't dated, but I am? I don't know. I do know that this year I will be 27. Which I know in the grand scheme of things isn't old, but let's face it, I'm 3 years away from 30 then. And once you're past 21 a year is NOT, in fact, a lifetime. So am I the modern 20something? Or am I the outdated model who worshiped Carrie Bradshaw, but was slightly younger than the average viewer?
Or are all modern 20somethings actually dated? Aren't we all kind of just like our parents? Young versions of them, perhaps with more education, perhaps with more money, perhaps with more independence...but aren't we SOME part of them? I maintain that we are. And that the modern 20something is a myth that is either trying to scare me into marriage or education OR convince me I can have "it all" and carry a baby and a Chanel at the same time. Dream on.
Honestly I think this "modern" 20something is kinda crap. Look, our parents experimented with drugs and sexuality. Maybe it wasn't as accepted...but most of them did at some point. And at the end of the day, they were just confused 20somethings running around, chasing the job, the car, the partner. And all they wanted was to be happy. Isn't that all we want too? To find that person that loves us despite our flaws, and our 20 minute face washing routine. To have a career that you're proud of, and hopefully somebody to cheer you on? I think so.
I think the "modern 20something" is still yesterday's 20something...we just do it all in jeggings.
PS - there may or may not be another blog later today...just really needed to get that out there
2011/01/25
To the Dreamers Go the Dreams....
Mood: confused
I woke up several times during the night last night. Really didn't sleep well at all. Which isn't unusual for me. Sleep and I...we aren't usually the best of friends. But we try hard damn it.
Anyway what made last night unusual...and I blame my mother for this...is that every single time I awoke and would fall back asleep I would fall into the same dream. Which typically only happens when having a nightmare, not a decent dream. And I say decent because...I can't tell if I think it's good or bad. I can certainly say some parts were excellent (Joel McHale with anointing oil...we'll get there don't worry) and some parts were terrible (being lost by myself in Chicago...I think anyway). The weirdest thing was HOW MANY PEOPLE there were in my dream. People I haven't thought about since elementary school. And people I thought about right before bed. So bear with me...this is going to get really random...but so do I.
The dream started off as a trip (class trip maybe?) to what I think was Chicago because I remember telling my friends (who were high school/college/and old work friends) that we had to go find this one restaurant I had been to with my parents when I was like 14. So obviously I was older in the dream. Anyway. We get there...and I'm looking at all these skyscrapers wandering around...and suddenly I'm in an alley alone, lost, and crying (stupid watching SVU before bed). Anyway I hear noises and start screaming "NO I'm not ready" over and over. Which, retrospectively was actually a very honest scream for what was about to take place...but I think I was screaming because I thought I was going to be murdered.
Then my family (dad, mom, sis, bro) are standing with me telling me we're late. For what? I don't know. Mom throws a robe (as in preaching vestment) at me and tells me to put it on. It's weird how similar it is to a ballet costume...even though it is clearly a robe (Black Swan flashback?). I rush to put it on and as I slip my head out of the top...we're in a gorgeous old church. It's reminiscent of the first church my mother worked at in Pennsylvania...and like the one I preached at in India. White. Huge windows. Stained glass. Maroon carpeting (okay the Indian church had no carpets...but it still looked similar). Deep wood pews. Anyway...we take a seat near the top and Mom starts putting on a robe as well. Dad's now in a suit and Caitlyn starts crying. Zach holds her hand.
The next thing I know I'm being led down the stairs by Mom. The stairs are steep and unending and somehow I've managed to put ridiculously high heels on...but I gracefully get down the stairs (I woke up crying because I thought I would fall thus it's important to note I did not). As we reach the altar, Mom walks to one side of it and a short, bald man hands me a bulletin telling me he will now begin my ordination service.
WHAT?
Random shit. It gets so much more bizarre though. The service is...unimportant as I have no part in it. But we get to the laying on of hands...which I in reality I always cry during. It's such a beautiful tradition. Anyway...we're at that point in the service and there must be 45 people or so surrounding me. Through them all walks Joel McHale telling me that since I'm not traditional we're going to use a new method before the actual laying on of hands. And he lifts the robe gently from my back and anoints me with oil...by signing HIS name. I think this part of the dream was just purely for me...thoroughly enjoyable...but highly odd (an oil autograph? I am so odd). Back to more important issues...so the laying on of hands is done...I'm ordained and it's then that I see how many people have come to Chicago (?) to watch me as I begin life as an ordained minister.
And I wake up crying again...only they're happy tears. I'm truly touched by the faces I saw in my dreams. Some are deceased in actuality. Some are very much with me. And some I never expected to support me...but I am touched nonetheless.
So here's why I'm confused...besides the host of The Soup rubbing oil on my back at an altar...is this dream me telling myself how important I really think going back to school is? And beyond that, how much ordination means to me? Even when I was in school I wasn't sure that I wanted to be ordained.
I know that the simple answer is yes...but...there are so many things about the dream that just don't make sense to me. I left school 3 years ago this spring. My class has since graduated and have had wonderful callings into ministry, ordained and those who are not ordained.
In 3 years I...ended a relationship. Worked in a dental office. Moved to Iowa. Worked at a nursing home. And I've finally found my way back to church. That's the thing about a calling...you can run, but you can never hide. Be it God, fate, destiny, Ganga (goddess of the Ganges), or some other higher power...if you're called to do something...eventually you end up doing it. In some form or another, whether you're aware that you're even doing it or not.
I set up...I feel truly proud of my work.
It's not about the degree so much. I don't think it's about the title, either. And trust me...I've ALWAYS wanted the title more than the paper that says I've graduated. Or the education behind the title. I've always been a status person. Until I was forced at 25 to move back in with my parents because I couldn't afford gas for my car let alone food...and my ex boyfriend just kept shoving any money I made up his nose.
3 years seems like no time at all. And a lifetime. I think...that for today my nice thing will be to sit with the confusion and emotions that this dream stirred in me. Including the emotions related to Joel McHale (I mean what woman doesn't want a gorgeous, hilarious, smart man rubbing oil on her back?). And as I do...I'll contemplate what I really want. And when. And I'll stare at a nice thing I did for myself yesterday:
A little color to brighten my...already pink office. I arranged them myself. Gorgeous.
I woke up several times during the night last night. Really didn't sleep well at all. Which isn't unusual for me. Sleep and I...we aren't usually the best of friends. But we try hard damn it.
Anyway what made last night unusual...and I blame my mother for this...is that every single time I awoke and would fall back asleep I would fall into the same dream. Which typically only happens when having a nightmare, not a decent dream. And I say decent because...I can't tell if I think it's good or bad. I can certainly say some parts were excellent (Joel McHale with anointing oil...we'll get there don't worry) and some parts were terrible (being lost by myself in Chicago...I think anyway). The weirdest thing was HOW MANY PEOPLE there were in my dream. People I haven't thought about since elementary school. And people I thought about right before bed. So bear with me...this is going to get really random...but so do I.
The dream started off as a trip (class trip maybe?) to what I think was Chicago because I remember telling my friends (who were high school/college/and old work friends) that we had to go find this one restaurant I had been to with my parents when I was like 14. So obviously I was older in the dream. Anyway. We get there...and I'm looking at all these skyscrapers wandering around...and suddenly I'm in an alley alone, lost, and crying (stupid watching SVU before bed). Anyway I hear noises and start screaming "NO I'm not ready" over and over. Which, retrospectively was actually a very honest scream for what was about to take place...but I think I was screaming because I thought I was going to be murdered.
Then my family (dad, mom, sis, bro) are standing with me telling me we're late. For what? I don't know. Mom throws a robe (as in preaching vestment) at me and tells me to put it on. It's weird how similar it is to a ballet costume...even though it is clearly a robe (Black Swan flashback?). I rush to put it on and as I slip my head out of the top...we're in a gorgeous old church. It's reminiscent of the first church my mother worked at in Pennsylvania...and like the one I preached at in India. White. Huge windows. Stained glass. Maroon carpeting (okay the Indian church had no carpets...but it still looked similar). Deep wood pews. Anyway...we take a seat near the top and Mom starts putting on a robe as well. Dad's now in a suit and Caitlyn starts crying. Zach holds her hand.
The next thing I know I'm being led down the stairs by Mom. The stairs are steep and unending and somehow I've managed to put ridiculously high heels on...but I gracefully get down the stairs (I woke up crying because I thought I would fall thus it's important to note I did not). As we reach the altar, Mom walks to one side of it and a short, bald man hands me a bulletin telling me he will now begin my ordination service.
WHAT?
Random shit. It gets so much more bizarre though. The service is...unimportant as I have no part in it. But we get to the laying on of hands...which I in reality I always cry during. It's such a beautiful tradition. Anyway...we're at that point in the service and there must be 45 people or so surrounding me. Through them all walks Joel McHale telling me that since I'm not traditional we're going to use a new method before the actual laying on of hands. And he lifts the robe gently from my back and anoints me with oil...by signing HIS name. I think this part of the dream was just purely for me...thoroughly enjoyable...but highly odd (an oil autograph? I am so odd). Back to more important issues...so the laying on of hands is done...I'm ordained and it's then that I see how many people have come to Chicago (?) to watch me as I begin life as an ordained minister.
And I wake up crying again...only they're happy tears. I'm truly touched by the faces I saw in my dreams. Some are deceased in actuality. Some are very much with me. And some I never expected to support me...but I am touched nonetheless.
So here's why I'm confused...besides the host of The Soup rubbing oil on my back at an altar...is this dream me telling myself how important I really think going back to school is? And beyond that, how much ordination means to me? Even when I was in school I wasn't sure that I wanted to be ordained.
I know that the simple answer is yes...but...there are so many things about the dream that just don't make sense to me. I left school 3 years ago this spring. My class has since graduated and have had wonderful callings into ministry, ordained and those who are not ordained.
In 3 years I...ended a relationship. Worked in a dental office. Moved to Iowa. Worked at a nursing home. And I've finally found my way back to church. That's the thing about a calling...you can run, but you can never hide. Be it God, fate, destiny, Ganga (goddess of the Ganges), or some other higher power...if you're called to do something...eventually you end up doing it. In some form or another, whether you're aware that you're even doing it or not.
I set up...I feel truly proud of my work.
It's not about the degree so much. I don't think it's about the title, either. And trust me...I've ALWAYS wanted the title more than the paper that says I've graduated. Or the education behind the title. I've always been a status person. Until I was forced at 25 to move back in with my parents because I couldn't afford gas for my car let alone food...and my ex boyfriend just kept shoving any money I made up his nose.
3 years seems like no time at all. And a lifetime. I think...that for today my nice thing will be to sit with the confusion and emotions that this dream stirred in me. Including the emotions related to Joel McHale (I mean what woman doesn't want a gorgeous, hilarious, smart man rubbing oil on her back?). And as I do...I'll contemplate what I really want. And when. And I'll stare at a nice thing I did for myself yesterday:
A little color to brighten my...already pink office. I arranged them myself. Gorgeous.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)