Blogging Everyday in July|On Being a Single Human

Hello.  I am a single human.  In that I mean that I am a human and I am single, but also that I am only one human, not multiple.  I got asked to blog about being single, and I think it’s because my group of friends is mostly from the “singles” group at my church.  That’s so weird to say, by the way.
On a side note, when I was in college, my friend Karina was part of a church in Pasadena, and the young, college aged group was called the “singles” group, and we thought it was so weird and hilarious, but not that I’m out of college, I realize I can’t be in a college group.  So it’s young adults, but my church has a young married people group too, so this one is the “singles” group.  Haha.  Laugh with me.
Anyway, my friends are mostly single, even though some of them might be starting relationships soon.  We love each other, and we’re content with where we’re at, I think.  I know I am.  And that might really be true for the first time in a long time.

For a long time I’ve joked about singleness.  I’ve laughed at myself, but on the inside wished I could change it.  Then, the last couple years or so I’ve had multiple guys in my life, but none of them were serious enough about me, even though my heart kept going farther than I wanted it to, so I kept getting crushed.  And occasionally I’d do the crushing.
One of my old flames texted me last week saying he missed me, even though it’s been so many months since we’re spoken.  I told him that he was just being lonely.  And I told him that I don’t want to be lonely, I want to be content being alone.  And I think that’s what I am.  Not just because there’s no one in my life right now that I really want to be with, but because I love my friends, my lifestyle, and figuring out my life the way it is.  I like that I’m becoming a healthier person.  I think I just needed to purge all of the pain out, and dating is one of those things.

I’ve heard a lot that as soon as you stop looking, you find someone.  I don’t want that to be true.  Because then, when you stop looking, you start looking.  All of the fun adventures that I would want to do on dates, I can do with a group of my friends here, and it’s a thousand times more enjoyable.
I want to be in love with life again before I fall in love with a person.

A lot of people believe in soul mates, or believe that they’re only half of an entity until they find their other half.  But I want to be whole and unbroken.  I want to be desired because I’m independent and following my dreams.  I want my heart to be full.  And I’m getting there.

So yes, I’m a single human.  That’s exactly who I’m supposed to be.  That’s exactly who I want to be.  And that is the end.

Blogging Everyday in July|Long Distance Best Friends

I think a best friend is someone your soul is tied to.  Like a soul mate, but better.  Because they’re more than that.  They’re a sister (or a brother), a friend, sometimes a parent, and they’re someone you get to choose.  Or at least we think we choose them.  My best friend and I, I like to think we stumbled upon each other.  We were thrust together by cosmic intervention.
We grew up going to the same camp, but never met.  We attended the same college previews, but never met.  I’m pretty sure we went to at least one of the same music festivals and didn’t meet.  And we were both at the same Nex Gen Convention in Anaheim when we were 15.  We spent so many hours in the same place at the same time, but were steered constantly apart, not aware of what could be waiting right around the corner.
Michelle and I were in the same quad our freshman year of college.  We liked the same music and long road trips and so many other things.  We had all these inside jokes, but were constantly preoccupied.  Junior and senior year crept up on us, and I had spent the last few years begging God for a friend, a best friend, someone who was my person.  It took me much too long to realize that it was Michelle.  Whoever marries her is one lucky person.
After college, we were pulled in separate directions.  I ended up in Mammoth, while Michelle stayed in LA, and then moved home for some time with her family.  We still carried our soul ties though, and our inside jokes live on.  Last summer, almost a year ago, Michelle came to visit me in Mammoth and ended up staying.  She did the school of supernatural ministry that I did, and works at the same camp I worked at.  She even lives in the same house, although it became beautiful after I moved out.  We spent eight or nine months getting to enjoy time in the same place, even though we were too busy to really acknowledge it, then my heart was again pulled elsewhere, and now my home is in the South.  However, our soul ties remain.
I know that if my world is crashing down, I can count on my bestie to listen to me.  I know that she’ll still get my jokes, and we’ll still find things that remind us of each other.  I know that if I go a week or so without texting her, that she still loves me, and that she knows I still love her.  We are content.
Plus, we have matching tattoos, so I think our friendship is kinda locked in.

I’m writing about Michelle today, not because missing her is unbearable, but because I’m not the only person with a long distance best friend.  Another girl who just moved here has a different kind of relationship with her bestie, because she has a different personality.  They need to talk almost everyday.  They talk on the phone and they text and they miss each other terribly.  How they survive?  I have no idea.  Their contentedness looks different than ours does.  But it’s the soul ties that hold us together.
Sometimes your life takes a different path than your soul tied best friend.  Sometimes you need time apart.  But this relationship isn’t like a romantic one.  It’s better, because distance doesn’t matter, it might even make it stronger.   Distance just makes being together that much better.
I don’t know when I’ll be going back to California to visit.  And Michelle has no plans that I know of to come to the land of the humid and the heat anytime soon.  And I think we’re both okay with that.  We are content in our life paths.  We are content with each other and without each other, because we still have each other.  That is all.

Gelato in London

When I think about the important relationships in my life (relationshits), about the ex boyfriends who mattered, who left a mark, there is no magical love story.  My connections have always been easy, non existent, or instant.  And sometimes they were only one-sided.

I had a lot of boyfriends in high school, but I only count one.  He’s still one of my closest friends.  We were best friends, in the same friend group, and after more than a year of liking each other without saying anything, we kind of just fell into a relationship.  When it ended, we both wanted it, even though we both ended up hurt in the long run.  We both made mistakes.  But we’re better off not together, even though we’ll always have that connection.

I did an internship the summer after I finished high school.  We weren’t allowed to date in the internship, and when it started they told us that we would probably start having feelings for one another because we were only around one another.  They called this “beer goggles.”  They promised that our feelings weren’t real, and they didn’t want any intern drama.  All totally understandable.
About halfway through this internship, I developed a crush.  *dun dun dun* Anyway, I thought that it was just that, even though it didn’t feel fake.  I was starting college in the fall and I wasn’t wanting to date anyone else until I found who I wanted to marry.  I was sure he didn’t reciprocate my feelings, even though we hung out a lot.  We never did anything wrong, anything against internship rules.  We just had feelings.
The last day of the internship, after we had graduated, everyone had packed up and left.  My car was ready to go, but his parents hadn’t shown up yet.  So we hung out.  I had already planned a trip out there with another friend of mine to visit, so I knew that I would see him again, but I still was sure that after that trip our friendship would pause.  And then he kissed me.  I think he was trying to be romantic.  It was unexpected and like a word on the tip of his tongue.  And I laughed in surprise.  He brought up that laugh later, but I still think it was warranted.
Anyways, we ended up dating my entire freshman year of college, long distance.  As the months dragged on, I grew more and more unhappy with our relationship.  When we were together, we never had anything to do.  And when we talked on the phone, he never had anything to say, because he did the same thing everyday.  He lived with his wealthy parents and didn’t have a job.
He told me dinosaurs weren’t real.  He refused to ride a tandem bike with me.  He was against adopting a teenager, assuming we actually got married.  Our kids would definitely be home schooled.  And he was far too chivalrous for me.  He wouldn’t let me walk on the outside or open my own car door.  Not that he wanted to do these things for me to be nice, but he forced me to let him do them.
Eventually I had to end things.  It was the day before Easter, we went on a walk, and it was over.  I’ve always felt kind of like a jerk for ending things the way I did.  But it had to be done.  And I’m older now, hopefully wiser too.
But really, he was just beer goggles.

Then there was the on again off again guy from my hometown.  He never remembered me from high school.  He always thought I was younger than I was.  He was Catholic, although not really practicing, so I’d just tell people he was good enough, because he was hot.
We would talk, he’d pursue me, and as soon as things would start to become a little serious, like he might actually want to be my boyfriend, he’d disappear.  This went on for three years.  The last time, he may have broken my heart, because I tried too hard.  I didn’t want to lose him again, so I lost him in my efforts.  But it’s probably not my fault, and I just need to accept that.

There was the guy I worked with, who wasn’t ready to be a boyfriend again, even though that’s basically what he was.  We hung out late at night.  We went on drives and adventures.  We loved all the same shows.  We talked about our beliefs.  He cared so much for me.  Until he didn’t.  Until he disappeared.  And I was once again too much for him.

A couple weekends ago I started getting hit on a lot more than usual.  The lead singer of a band that was playing became infatuated with me.  He would come to the front desk where I work and find excuses to talk to me.  He would flirt incessantly.  If I came to his show, he would buy me a drink.  And he told everyone that he liked me.  And he has my number and asks for things that I can’t give him, because I’m not that kind of girl.  I couldn’t be, even if I wanted to be.
I know he’s not the person I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

This morning I had coffee with my friend, Natalie, who is mentoring me this summer.  I was talking about how I’ve noticed how important connections are in relationships.  And she talked about how, when it’s there, it just works.  I think connection is something that I’ve tried to force, but I have been lacking.  I’m not someone who has ever believed in soulmates, but maybe… maybe that’s starting to change?
Natalie told me a story about a couple she knows.  I don’t remember the details exactly, so I’ll improvise.  The woman was from Iceland and taught at Julliard.  The man did some other important thing (I can’t remember what).  They were both in London doing one thing or another for their various occupations.  They both ended up in a gelato shop, one that neither of them usually went to.  There was only one table left, so they shared it, and ended up hitting it off.  Connection.  And they got married.  And it’s been like 20 or more years.
I want that.  I want a story like that.  I don’t want to meet and be forgotten in the small town I was born in.  I don’t want a friend from work.  I don’t want a random band member that stays in my hotel.  I want a chance meeting in a gelato shop in London.  Or on a bus in Ireland.  Or on a plane to New Zealand.  Or hiking alone in the Sierras.
I want something amazing.  I want connection that lasts forever.  So maybe I’ll have to wait.
I am someone who lowers her standards, and maybe it’s because high standards are easily lowered when feelings are involved.  So maybe instead of setting standards, I’ll wait for connection.  If he’s not fun to talk to, sorry.  If texting him is more of a nuisance than a pleasure, no thanks.  If he makes me uncomfortable ever, I can’t.  If I find myself trying, worried that he’ll stop liking me, than I’ll be okay.  If I’m not excited about his very existence, if my heart doesn’t beat faster, if I’m not giddy about him, if it doesn’t come easy, than it’s not worth it.
I’m done with heartbreak.  I’m ready for connection.  I’m ready for gelato in London, no matter how long that takes.

Lacking Creativity

Lacking creativity, I sit here at my keyboard, searching for the right words to put down.  It seems that there should be so much to say, and that I should have so much to reflect on, but I’d rather spin fiction than share the trivial thoughts that are on my mind.  Yet, I don’t write at all.  I have characters that need developing, but it’s almost as if I’ve fallen out of love with them.  However, I realize that maybe characters are like any other person, and that if we don’t spend time enough time with them, we forget what once was so powerfully drawing us toward them.  And I realize further that this is what God is like.  Until this week, it had been months since I had sat down and spent significant amounts of intentional time with Him.  And it’s still not enough.  I want to fall in love with Him again.  I want to fall in love.  That’s it.

See, most would expect me to mention that I graduated from college more than a week ago.  And as that was such a big moment in my life, I find it pales in comparison to what it would be if I had gotten my degree in something that I actually plan on using.  I want to be a writer, although I have been writing so much less than I should if I wish to actually call myself a writer.  Yet I digress.  If I had gotten my degree in journalism or literature or creative writing I would probably be freaking out and loudly announcing that I had surely walked across a stage and received a diploma for a degree that I was passionate about.

God’s funny like that, isn’t He?  As a fifteen year old girl I was certain that I had a heart for youth, assuming that meant being a youth pastor.  God audibly called me to attend Life Pacific College.  Soon after beginning my college career I realized that I don’t want to be in vocational ministry in any form at all, and soon after that I found my passion as a writer.  God told me to write, and I still haven’t finished anything to be proud of.  I tried to leave school, but I knew that LIFE was where I was meant to stay.  After four years of perseverance, I have finished and I have my Bachelors, and now I have even less certainty about my future than I did a year ago.  I know what I’m doing with my summer.  I know I plan to move to Portland in August.  But how easily can everything change?  So I still wonder why God called me to LPC at all?

I went to a wedding yesterday.  It was by far the best wedding I had ever attended.  I even regained the courage I had in high school, if only temporarily, and talked to a cute guy.  Yet I still don’t feel compelled to write so many words about it.  I often say that I don’t believe in soulmates, but I know that Erica and Robbie are truly meant for each other.  It makes me wonder if maybe some people do have soulmates.  It makes me wonder if I have a soulmate, if people will one day say, “they’re meant for each other,” about me and some man.

Does anyone have any creativity they’d like to send my way?  Do you have any extra motivation?