i have hit a new low

years ago i promised myself i would never ever ever live in a basement. this is due mainly to my fear of spiders. in case you never made the connection, spiders really really really like basements.

Well, due to financial reasons and a handsome, godly, incredible man running away with my best friend, i am now living in my brother's basement. which is at times cursed with the odd spider. the biggest problem here is when i am trying to fall asleep i always feel them crawling on me and i freak out. i have devised an ingenious (i think) solution to this problem. All summer i have slept in a bed on my tent.



spread the word! it works, although i can't really fully stretch out. but sometimes i can pretend i am just camping outside which is mostly fun until the bears try to eat me (and others who happen to be around). But besides the being eaten by bears part, things are pretty good.


later,

by the way, i have added a "take some sweet action" section to the sidebar. I'll be posting some easy ways you can take action to promote some uber-important peace and justice issues. feel free (and feel encouraged) to click away!
bre

geeky

It is official. I am a geek.

There are 2 things which happened to me in the last 24 hours which really excited me. I mean, giddy excited. Like a little schoolgirl. They are:

1. Standing in line at the U of M. Yep, standing in line. Made me giddy. I got to pretend that I was again a full-time student. There is NOTHING better than being a full-time student. There was such a buzz of energy around, so much excitement. A huge line-up at Tim Hortons. Freshmen with a mixed look of terror and confusion. The smell of academia in the air. Good deal. It made me very happy.

2. Roller Coaster Tycoon. Yes, like other areas of my life including my clothing and musical preference, I am also 8 years behind everybody else in my choice of video games. I stayed home yesterday because I felt ill. I tried to hard to do something productive but my basic discomfort coupled with my prescription medication made that nearly impossible. It was honestly a feat to walk to the kitchen sink. So I was forced to whittle my time away exploring this “new” game Roller Coaster Tycoon. It is so fun. I made this great little park and finally got everything to a point where it was smooth and all of my guests were happy. Is that strange that I get a great feeling when I think of the good times these fake computer people are having at my park? I even kept my entrance fee low. My nephew was really annoyed and that and told me constantly to up my fees. But then I told him that if I did that the low-income computer people wouldn’t be able to come and then everybody at the poor computer orphanage wouldn’t be able to have fun at my great park. I thought this was pretty straightforward. Until he reminded me that these people don’t really exist, and I am really not helping anybody. Still, I have not raised my park admission price. I have yet to decide if this is really cool of me or really pathetic. I’ll let you know when I make a judgement call on that one.

Mennonites are Great

Check out this article:

The Economics of Shalom


Let me know what you think . . .
Bre

soapiness

Another excerpt from Girl Meets God.

Again, it is very hard to reduce a linkage of thoughts of another into a short succinct paragraph. But I will try. Here Lauren speaks of her friend’s marriage, and what it means to her.

“I look at Hannah and I am . . . jealous because I believe that marriage is a school of sanctification . . . I have seen clearly the holy work done in Hannah and Jim’s home this year. Being stuck with each other, being forced to stumble through her (affair) and his heartbreak, has made them better spouses and better Christians . . . God has been who he said he would be “He will be like a refiner’s fire or a launderer’s soap.” . . . He has used their marriage as soap.
I praise God for his soapiness, and then I get so jealous that I think I might literally start to see green. It is the old question, the pathetic question: Why them, Lord? Why them and not me? . . .
I try to picture watching her being pregnant . . . I try to picture the baby shower . . . I try, while I picture these things, to picture myself being happy for Hannah, and I can’t. I can’t imagine feeling happy. I just feel jealous and pathetic and lame. I feel miserable . . . like a bad, selfish person, so uncharitable that I can’t summon even a shade of joy when my friends do great joyful things like have babies. . . .
Later, in the shower, I get it. I get that Hannah’s pregnancy is my own school of sanctification. God is sanctifying Jim and Hannah through marriage and parenthood, but He is not just blessing them and leaving me out in the unblessed cold . He is using my ridiculous jealousy and my endless self-pity to sanctify me . . . He is using that baby shower to somehow grow me into the person He wants me to be.”
- Lauren F. Winner, “Girl Meets God,” Colorado Springs, CO, Shaw Books: 2002.

Sanctification. Soapiness. It is a struggle to see my struggles as soapiness. Once I was able to, but now this seems sufficiently more difficult considering the numerous deaths I have witnessed this past little while. I am unsure as to the value of being cleaned and sanctified when death is an imminent reality. It seems so futile.

But I digress. Back to the issue at hand.

I wonder about the events in my life and whether they were intended as a sanctification school for me. And I think about how I have approached these – some I have embraced as opportunities to grow. Some I have cursed and resented. There are so many possibilities which overwhelm me. What is God trying to use to clean me? My job? My living situation? My stupid new car? My relationships with people who have hurt me? My jealousy of my friend’s attentions which are no longer focused on me? My unhealthy view of my place in other’s lives? My bus rides? The dog who lives upstairs? My pen which exploded yesterday? How far does this reach?

I don’t know. But I will try to know. And that is always a fun journey.

But now this is my biggest challenge. This has added another dimension to my perpetual cycle of struggle – now I struggle with my struggling with struggles, if you can follow that. Is this struggle in itself a method of sanctification as well? I believe so, which is encouraging. Now I have decided to take steps to deal with my hurts and my pains, with the real possibility of more hurts and pain looming over me almost daily in terms of my medical health.

I am fearful that with these new health developments that I will again forget and spiral downwards into a heartless oblivion. It is my intent to become healthy again. To get myself again in that position where I approach God in a humble and gracious manner whether I am seriously ill or whether I am seriously healthy. And that is my struggle. And that is my goal. And this is my attempt at embracing my sanctification schooling. I have even become so cheesy as to hide little “remember what you goals are” post-it notes around my office and around my room. It is my commitment to try hard to re-orient myself to my God. And through that to allow myself to be soaped. Cleansed. And sanctified.

ponder ponder ponder

One of the best gifts I received this last Christmas was a poster entitled “How to Build Global Community.” My wonderful friends Dave, Janie, and their then-unborn superchild Corrina gave it to me. They got it from Ten Thousand Villages (yay!)

It has been a great thing to hang on my wall in my office and ponder over. Ponder ponder ponder. Lately I have been pondering over the second point on this how-to list, which says “Don’t confuse your comfort with your safety.”

At first I really didn’t get this, although it sure sounded good and poetic and powerful and I felt freaking smart and activist-like having it hang on my wall. But over time I have begun to understand what is going on in this little line and it is outstanding. So much so that I have tried to intentionally make this statement impact my life and influence the way that I live.

Don’t confuse your comfort with your safety. How many times have I used that excuse – I don’t feel safe – to cross the street from a particularly offensive looking panhandler? From somebody rifling through a trash bin? How often have I walked the long way around downtown just so that I don’t have to walk down Spence or Balmoral? Or stood at certain bus shelters instead of others? I think that I have very often confused my comfort with my safety, and have used the “I don’t feel safe here” excuse in order to cover up my simple discomfort with a certain situation or certain people.

So why do I feel unsafe? Is it because the environment is unsafe and that person on the corner is going to hassle me? Or is it simply because I am uncomfortable? Is it because I do not have control – that I did not choose this person to be there asking me for money. That I did not choose to consort with these people who obviously had too much alcohol. It is more likely that I am merely uncomfortable. When I think back to all of the situations where I felt unsafe there is only a slight few which any real action was taken against my safety, and these actions have always been relatively minor. My feelings stemmed only from the presence of another who seemed different than those whom I normally choose to consort with. And that is my problem, I believe.

Being a woman, I have been taught to always be careful around strange men who are “different” in any way – in dress, smell, ethnicity. I do not believe that this has been taught as an intentially racist statement, but it does reflect general Winnipeg values of who the “good” and who the “dangerous” people are on the street. A drunk white woman is far less dangerous than the same-sized drunk woman of another ethnicity. No matter how much I am convinced I am not a racist, these truths of my beliefs come into play when walking around downtown. And I am ashamed of them.

But this is a slippery slope. At what point should I respond to a feeling of un-safety? Certainly some situations are dangerous. And not listening to my inner voice of caution could be quite dangerous and have severe consequences. I think I just need to practice a bit more on telling the difference between a truly dangerous situation and a merely uncomfortable one.

Just some random thoughts.

i know. its childish...

but funny. janie and i had a great time the other day letting spiderman free into the world. some of our misadventures are below.

by the way, those of you who are fearful of the comment box. this may be a good chance to stretch your wings. use a fake name even, i don't care. comments are fun!
bre

a confession

I have just completed reading a stellar book. One which has crept into my top 2 favorite books of all time. (Well, top 3 because I guess I have to stick the Bible in there somewhere. Just kidding.) I have finished it and now have to return it to its rightful owner and therefore the next few posts will revolve around some responses to this book before it leaves my pretty little hands.

This is my first post. Some background which is essential - This book, Girl Meets God, written by Lauren F. Winner (Shaw Books, Colorado Springs, CO: 2002), tells of the story and struggles which Lauren deals with as she becomes Christian after converting to Orthodox Judaism.

I recommend it highly. Especially for females. Anyway . . . this struck me when I first read it:

Sometimes divorce is the only thing to do. Sometimes it is the more loving thing to do. Sometimes, you have to do it. But before you divorce, you try every imaginable avenue to stay married. You quit your affair. You find a good marriage counselor. You tell your husband everything you should have told him three years ago .. . and then you get down on your knees and you ask the Lord to help you forgive your husband, and you remind all of your friends who witnessed your wedding that they witnessed it and are supposed to hold you to the promises you made, and you do anything else you can think of to save your marriage.
To further the analogy: I had married Judaism and then I had an affair with a foreign God, another religion, I took another lover. And I realized I was in love with that other lover, and I wrung my hands for a while. I struggled through my own inner turmoil and angst and then I handed my shocked husband divorce papers, threw my stuff into some empty cardboard boxes, and moved out, setting up house with my new love before an even passably decent interval elapsed.
I did not do what I should have done. I never once sat my husband down and told him the cold, hard truth, that I had fallen in love with someone else but I wanted to try to make this marriage work and what, exactly, were we going to do about it? Not one conversation. I never said a word to Rabbi M. about Jesus. Nothing to Beth, no discussions at all. I never said, I made that mikvah pledge and I am failing and I need you to help me.
The marriage analogy cuts both ways. My husband was not really a hapless dope. Those divorce papers were not the first hint of my affair. There were the unexplained absences at dinnertime, the strange men calling on the phone, the lipstick stains on collars and the otherwise inexplicable cycles of ecstasy and depression: glowingly happy when I'd seen my paramour, morose to end the world when I hadn't.
I doubt Beth or Tova or my rabbi suspected I was out on the town with Jesus, but they knew, all of them, that I was around less and less. That I was going to shul less frequently, that I was spending Friday nights lingering over Shabbat dinner less often . . . I doubt any of them thought I was filling my shul time with church, but they knew I was filling it with something, and none of them ever said anything. None of them ever said, Hey, just checking up on you. Is something up? Is something the matter? Or, harsher, Lauren, you know shul. You really
need to be there. I was part of their religious body; saying those things was their job.
So now I tell all of these words to Beth . . . The words spill out fast with anger . . . I want her to have tried to hold me to those promises . . . to have said something, to have asked me why I wasn't doing what I said I would do. It want her to have done the rude, invasive thing, the hard thing. I want her to have read my own words back to me and to have stood there in the silence till I somehow had to respond.
- Lauren Winner

I read this section about a month and a half ago, and I had marked it to respond to later. I had all of these thoughts in my head about blogging this, interacting with it, and pleading with my friends to hold me accountable to my faith in Christ which seemed to be slipping away so uncontrollably.

I had delayed writing this blog, due mostly to my fear of transporting this book to my workplace and somehow wrecking it in the process. (I have a huge fear of destroying other people’s paperback books. One which is valid because in the transport a teeny corner of this book got damaged. SICK! Sorry, Kara!) So there is much of a delay, and my situation and place in life and faith has changed a bit. However, I would still like to send a plea to my friends, albeit a little differen than what was first conceived.

Life changes quickly. And faith seems to change quickly, which confuses me, but I think that the core stays the same. My journey is not completely the same as Lauren’s. No affair or luring from anybody or anything - I had have many conversations with Jesus about friends and he was not kept in the dark. Many friends have conversed with me about important matters of faith, and I appreciate their boldness and courage in this. Thank you, friends. I know that I have a great family of support and care for my spiritual well-being.

I do ask that you would keep it up. That you would feel free and encouraged to ask the hard questions, to “read my own words back to me and . . . (stand) in the silence till I somehow (I have) to respond.” I need people to remind me of the promises I have made to my God. I need people to read back my words of commitment, of love, back when things seemed so clear. I need to, when I stray, have a gentle (or maybe not-so-gentle) reminder of my baptism.

Times have changed. I have straightened some things out, and the threat of divorce is not quite as imminent as it was a few weeks ago. I am trying. I am committed to Christ, but the pains attached to that life and life in general are oftentimes so overwhelming, so intangible yet so cutting. I feel like I have lost who I am. But I am trying to get back on track, and I feel empowered and supported by so many. Thanks.

So this is really a post of hope, and of thanks, and of a request for help. Things are better. I am determined to make them better. But I need your help to keep me accountable to who I was, who I am, and to my words of commitment to my faith which I expressed in more clearer times than these.

Thank you for your friendship, support, and challenge. You are all very important to me.
B

it's the most wonderful time of the year!

This may be a bit heathenistic, but I’m not really a big fan of Christmas. Instead, my favorite time of the year is Fringe time!

And hey, there is lots of spiritual stuff in here, so it sort of gives me some heaven points.

This year . . . so far (it’s not quite over yet!) I have learned about Jewish kids camps, feminism, old cranky people, bad dialogue, the life of a famous showgirl in the 1950’s, that you can hip-hop to Spanish guitar, bus 24 is highly unreliable, and that there is no such thing as an ugly duck.

Here are my top 3:

1. So Kiss Me Already, Hershel Gertz. Funny. Clever. Poignant. A Jewish kid gets sent to Jewish kids camp and has some problems there. Very good. Check out a clip here.
2. Flamenco Con Fusion 2. Picture this. Some amazing guy on a Spanish Guitar. One (very passionate-less and uncomfortable looking, unfortunately) flamenco dancer, plus one hip-hop sassy teen. Perfection. Watch a clip here.
3. You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown. Its been a dream of mine to see this on stage, so even if its performed by 10 year olds I will for surely check it out. I was impressed with these kids. Lucy was amazing – she’s such a jerk! I love it! It made me ponder today whether I will be able to watch Charlie Brown and other things like it in heaven. I doubt it, but that thought makes me so sad. It is so clever and so innocent and teaches me so many things everytime I watch or read it. Perfection. Clip!

Anyway, that’s it. Oh, and I also watched Lady in the Water yesterday. Its good – I recommend it.

Later,
The Fringe Fanatic

oprah and bikinis

I’m growing. In unexpected ways.

There are a few things that I have done in the past little while which I swore I would never do. Here is a list:
1. Eat a Rotton Egg Jellybean.
2. Buy a bikini
3. Live in a basement
4. Like Martha Stewart
5. Fall in love with the Oprah Magazine.

Number 5 surprises me the most. I’m not a big Oprah fan, but her magazine, I would like to tell everybody, is stellar. Very good content, inspirational stories, thinkpieces, serious consideration of women and equality issues. I highly recommend it. The only thing I don’t like is the cover. Oh, and there is a certain amount of inconsistency with some of the articles . . . Such as having a story on body self-hatred which attacks society and corporate media for “decree(ing) what we should look like," when 15 pages later it has a section called “How Not to Look Fat in a Swimsuit.” Hmm . . .

Anyway, I have copied a section of the article which has impacted my life. Copyright info is below. Please don’t sue me, Oprah.




“Body hatred has been defined as a personal problem. But it is a social problem, a poilitical problem, a cultural problem. It is not accidental or incidental. It is induced, injected, and programmed. We Americans like to tell ourselves we are free, but we are imprisioned. We are controlled by a corporate media that decrees what we should look like and then determines what we have to buy in order to get and keep that look. We are controlled by our mother’s idea of how we are supposed to look, and our father’s idea. We are controlled by other women’s ideas. . . .
The antidote to body hatred is social activism and community. None of us alone is strong enough to stand up to the daily onslaught of propaganda, imagery, programming, seduction, and mind control. But as a group we can shift and lift the tyranny. Resisting this ideology requires support. It requires a movement. No diet, no surgery will fix the problem. It is collective, pervasive, and ongoing.
Hating one’s body is an all-consuming occupation and a dangerous distraction. It is an addiction. As we spend our days focusing on our thighs and butts, thousands die in Iraq, 37 million live below the poverty line in America, more rivers become polluted, more civil liberties disappear, more rights for women are being erased. In our isolated pursuit of thinness or the perfect body, we give up our power, our vision, our rights. We abandon a world that is in desperate need of our attention.”
- Eve Ensler, “Belly Dancing,” Oprah June 2006 216-218



I think it is revolutionary to state that “the antidote to body hatred is social activism and community.” However, I am not sure if that is correct. I am all about focusing not on our bodies, but on our community and helping the oppressed and downtrodden. However, is this a permanent solution to this particular body hatred problem? I think that it can only serve as a distraction to the problem, as it does not address the real issues involved here, including our society’s obsession with physical beauty or manipulation by the media at large.

Thoughts?

the jenny's are wailing and they want company

does anybody want to come see the wailin' jennys with me? september 22. $25. Let me know by Wednesday so I can order tickets. right now they are selling second row. :-)

it's a new day

this is how i feel today. a mixture of both.




a poem:

But today is going to be different
You can stop the leak when you know where the hole is
Cause a thousand yesterdays have kicked the crap right out of me
But today I'm going to throw a few of my own punches
I'm gonna drink from the living water
I'm gonna eat from the broken bread
And the day I finally get into heaven
Ends the war between my heart and my head
- Miranda Stone


thanks for all of your support during tough times, friends.
bre

paralyzed

Where do I begin? I am thinking a lot this week about why I have been so sad lately. What it means. How it affects me, how it affects my family, how it affects my friends. It is a strange place to be in when you do not know exactly who to be. When you do not trust that the real you will actually be welcomed or accepted or at all desired. I asked sarah this week where the line can be drawn between being honest and between testing the patience of your friends.

Another friend this week, wonderfully oblivious of what is going on, lamented to me about her roommate – how she has been sad for so long and how this person doesn’t know what to do or how to deal with it anymore. She was pretty upset about all of this and seemed at the end of her rope. She doesn’t know what to do with her roommate anymore.

Where is the line? I don’t know.

So I feel left with the choice between being a huge burden to the people that I love, and trying their patience, and lying to my friends saying that I am stellar. Which I did to somebody this week. Sorry, friend. I don’t want to drive people away. I don’t want to be an overwhelming burden.

This sounds sort of pathetic. That makes me sad.

Anyway. These are my thoughts. A friend this week said “you want to know who I am? Meet my family.” This has inspired me to say “you want to know who I am? Read my blog.” It has seemed to become a good friend of mine, albeit somewhat unreliable. But I can overlook that.

It has been made painfully aware to me this week that I have a problem giving grace to people. Sorry about that, everybody.

Please don’t put comments on this post.
Bre

i am sure i am breaking copyright laws . . .

...but this is funny. copyright Scott Adams (I assume). If you are Scott Adams' lawyer please don't sue me.
b

what can i say? i have fallen hard. ernie, this is for you.

"You Owe Me Nothing In Return." By Alanis Morisette. For my hot Mexican. this is us.

I'll give you careless amounts of outright acceptance if you want it.
I will 'll give you encouragement to choose the path you want if you need it.
You can speak of anger and doubts, Your fears and freak-outs and I'll hold it.
You can share your so-called shamefilled accounts of times in your life and I won't judge it.
And there are no strings attached,

You owe me nothing for giving the love that I give.
You owe me nothing for caring the way that I have.
I give you thanks for receiving, it's my privilege,
And you owe me nothing in return.

You can ask for space for yourself and only yourself and I'll grant it.
You can ask for freedom as well or time to revel and you'll have it.
You can ask to live by yourself or love someone else and I'll support it.
You can ask for anything you want Anything at all and I'll understand it.

This is the only kind of love
As I understand it that there really is.

You can express your deepest of truths Even if it means I'll lose you and I'll hear it.
You can fall into the abyss On the way to your bliss And I'll empathize with.
You can say that you'll have to skip town To chase your passion and I'll hear it.
You can leave and hit rock bottom have a mid-life crisis and I'll hold it.

This is the only kind of love
As I understand it that there really is.

feet

Our Niagara and Toronto blog has been updated. To save you the trouble of going there, here is the post:

My man Ernie has calculated how much we walked during our trip to Niagara Falls and Toronto. He figures that we walked 14 kms in Niagara, and 26 km in Toronto, for a total of 40 kms!

_____

"how dearly i paid for those happy periods when the presence of God was so real, for this possession which seemed to me so perfect was but the preparation for the times of total deprivation." -Madame Guyon

Similies

When you don't eat sugar
a free cookie
is like a free penlight
you don't really need it
you don't really have a use for it
when you really think about it, you don't even want it
but even so,
it is still hard not to take.

nude beaches
are like Neelix from Voyager
simply a bad idea all the way around
but you still can't help but watch

a cup of decaffinated coffee
is like an escalator
no matter how hard it tries, it can never really justify its existence

ketchup
is like rat poison
its a stupid thing to eat

Same old line - by The Five O'Clock People

maybe you´ll never know why
i stare off into silence sometimes
maybe you´ll never see
maybe that´s what scares me

it´s the same old line
if it makes you happy i´ll say that I´m fine
it´s the same old line
look in my eyes and i´ll lie everytime

what can I say? i've turned granola

check out this link: fritter car!!!

ouchies...it hurts

Ok. So today I was surfing a desktop wallpaper site which I always use, clicked on the “insect” section and among the options were 4 different pictures of flies and hornets mating.

Who the heck wants that for their wallpaper? Ridiculous.

I was a social deviant today, in a strange way. I was walking down Spence to work after seeing my crazy chiropractor. It was so nice outside, and there were a bunch of people sitting on a front porch just hanging out. I, of course, ignored them because that’s what Winnipeggers do best. But they didn’t let me ignore them. When I walked by one of them said “good morning” in a way which startled me because it was the most sincere “good morning” I think I have ever received. It made me feel good. I said good morning back and smiled. And then realized how rude I was in the first place to ignore them sitting ten feet away from me. I was deviant because I didn’t say hi. And it was great. And now I want to live on Spence street. That’s awesome.

Anyway. Here is a picture of me wearing full makeup for the first time in my life. Enjoy.
Bre