Perfect

It is really hard to be perfect
Even if I was made that way
I really wasn’t made that way
Born too soon into a broken reality
Everyone’s eyesight is skewed
And mine is too

Perfection isn’t what I strive for
Because I know I’m more than mediocre
I am more than meets the eyes
Every single time

I feel lost in a mess
Where I’m trying too hard to impress
Everyone around me who can judge
And then they do judge
And judgments will always find the imperfections

I don’t want to be flawed or broken
But that’s the world I was born into
We are all flawed and broken
Constantly striving to be more than
Always feeling less than
Perfect

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Do You Know What Breve is?

Sometimes I really wish I had made different decisions in my life.  I wish I had gone to a different school and made different career choices.  I wish I had been more rebellious, instead of stuck in a Christian bubble that made me think God was telling me to be a youth pastor, thus altering the whole course of my life.  Because I could have been anything.  I could have gone to school to get a real career.  I was smart enough.  I was almost a 4.0 student in high school and college.  But instead I went to Bible college.  And my degree is almost worthless, as far as living my dreams or having a fulfilling career go.  I realized real quick that I’m not meant to be in ministry, and that I would actually be miserable there.  I had heard wrong.  I wish I had gone somewhere to get my degree in English or creative writing or something, so I could have maybe been a teacher, so maybe I would have an impact on someone else’s life.  Or maybe that I would have gone immediately to school to study counseling or psychology, because those have also always been interesting to me.

And I know that if I had made different choices in my life, not only my life would have been affected.  I never would have met Michelle, and she never would have moved to Mammoth.  I never would have moved to Alabama and met the best boyfriend ever.  My friend Sarah probably would have never met her boyfriend.  There’s a lot of things.  So maybe I’m selfish, wishing things were different.

Today, a woman told me that I didn’t know what breve was (half and half).  She explained to me that it wasn’t milk, it was cream (even though it’s half whole milk, and half heavy cream, so technically it’s both).  She told me she wanted more breve in her drink, that was made out of breve.  You can’t add extra water to a full glass of water.  You can’t fill a cup above capacity.  I can’t add more humanity to my humanity.  It does not make more, it just fills up.  So she tried to imply that I was stupid.

I am an intelligent human.  I might be more intelligent than most of the people that I’m surrounded by.  But I didn’t do anything with that intelligence.  Instead, I work at Starbucks, with a wasted college degree, somewhere much too far from home.

I could have been anything.  Instead, every stranger automatically assumes I’m beneath them.

I miss home.  I miss my people, my church, my community, my family.  I wish things had been different.

Unwelcome

Have you ever entered a room and felt completely unwelcome there?  Like you didn’t belong at all?  Because I have a thousand times.  I feel that way at parties.  But I feel that way the most in the company of Christians.  I hadn’t felt that way in a long time, and I had almost forgotten the feeling, so I guess it was time to remind myself.  Why do I even try, sometimes?

It makes me feel like I’m not good enough.  Because I’m not part of the elite.  I have differing opinions.  And it makes me want to run away completely.

After my mom died, I stopped getting invited to things.  It felt like no one wanted me around.  I never knew if my original group of friends was doing anything.  But if I invite some of them to do anything, the ones who weren’t invited get upset.  And the odds of anyone showing up are slim, at best.  They ask me to have more great ideas, but only so they can take them as their own.  But I’m not playing the blame game here.
Because, if I get invited, there’s a 75% chance I won’t go.  Partly because I might be working.  Or maybe I’ll already have plans.  Or maybe I’m just not interested.  But whenever I am interested, I feel like I don’t belong anyway.  It just makes it all very draining.

I used to do a lot.  I used to plan things and attend things and have a lot of fun.  But then I moved the south.  And I’ve started making my life smaller and smaller, till almost no one fits in it anymore.  So maybe it’s my fault that I’m not good enough.

My 90s party was better anyway.

All the Little Things that Break My Heart

A thing that I’ve been really bothered by lately is how cruel people can be to one another.  And I’m not even thinking on a large scale.  I’m thinking, small scale, people you work with, people you’re related to, people you serve or buy coffee from.

It’s like, we all try to see what we can get away with.  We tease, until our teasing turns to cruelty.  We go too far, and refuse to say we’re sorry.  We refuse to admit when we’re wrong.  And the cycle keeps spinning.

And I’m probably guilty of this.  I’ll do my best to accept some of the blame.  But really, what’s the point in making someone’s day miserable?  What’s the point in calling someone dumb, or making them feel dumb, or spreading their little mishaps around?  What’s the point in making someone feel useless?  We are all useful.  Everyone has a purpose, so why do we like to try to take that purpose away?

I’m really bummed out that so many people have excuses for their actions.  They say we’re too sensitive.  Or they ask us to have an open mind, without first having one themselves.  They’ll say it’s their religious duty.  They’ll say their protecting our country.

But this country does not define me.  This religion does not define me.  We were all made with much larger definitions, much larger purposes, much more reason to exist than just… existence.

It sounds too simple to just beg everyone to get along.  But all of this getting under each other’s skin has really gotten under my skin.  Get out of my skin.  You’re breaking my heart.

Waste of Time

You can watch the grass grow
And be lost in it
You can be broken by overwhelming love
You can spend years just wasting your time
But it’s not a wast of time at all

He teaches you to chase
And to be chased
He chases you as you follow him
And every time you fall apart
He puts together all your pieces

So wast your time here
Dedicate your minutes
Dedicate your hours
Know him
Know yourself
Fall in love again

Remember when he called you?
Remember who you were?
You can be that again
It never was just a waste of time

Find something that makes you excited about life

On days when I have to get up really early for work, my dog is the most excited.  I don’t know what it is about early mornings, but she wags her tail and makes funny groany sounds and runs around my bedroom and the living room.  She’s not like this on days when I sleep in.  I’m wondering if it’s just because the sun isn’t up yet.  But she loves mornings.

The other morning I got up and she got extra excited.  She ran as fast as she could around the living room, then launched herself full speed onto my couch while I sat down to put my shoes on.  If you only knew my dog, you would know that she’s usually indifferent to everything.  We call her a cat dog.  She doesn’t even get that excited to be fed, unless it’s part of your dinner, or it’s her night time treat.  It was absolutely hilarious.

It just makes me wish I was that excited about things in my life as she is to go on a walk at four in the morning.  And maybe I am.  I’m excited about music and poetry and my future with my love.  But do I show it enough?  I want to run around and wag my tail and jump on the couch.

Find something that makes you as excited about life as my dog is about going for walks in the morning.

I Think I Know

Today I went to church and work and home.  I’ve been working a lot lately, a closing a lot lately, so I haven’t been able to make a decent meal at home, and since going to Europe, I haven’t had a lot of money outside of bills, so I’ve been waiting to get paid again (I did last Friday) so I could buy groceries, which are now bought, so life is becoming normal again.  Anyway, I’ve been eating out (a lot of Taco Bell) or making due with what I can get at work, or eating cans of soup, for the last couple of weeks it seems like.  But tonight is different.

While I was at work, my boyfriend went to Publix and bought steaks and squash and potatoes and is currently reverse searing a ribeye and making mashed potatoes and sautéing some things.  I love home cooked meals, and he’s really good at them.  So I’m pretty sure that I think I know what love is.