untitled

breath clouds
sadness clinging
frost shrouds
moonlight bringing
sky bare
sparrow winging
sharp air
winter singing

Womanhood dump #2: Femininity

I also have a lot to say.

Main Entry: wom·an
Pronunciation: \ˈwu̇-mən, especially Southern ˈwō- or ˈwə-\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural wom·en \ˈwi-mən\
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English wīfman, from wīf woman, wife + man human being, man
Date: before 12th century

1 a : an adult female person b : a woman belonging to a particular category (as by birth, residence, membership, or occupation) —usually used in combination
2 : womankind
3 : distinctively feminine nature : womanliness

Being womanly, pursuing this...THING, this WOMANLINESS that supposedly we must possess, can be as elusive a mission as finding a candy wrapper under my bed.
it just isn't that simple.
There's a lot of crap that's collected around the real thing, a lot of misunderstandings, a lot of confusion, the media squirting collagen and implants and diets into the vision we have of Woman. We are going to have to dust off a lot of what the world has stuck on to this Woman thing and see what it really is.

BEAUTY
Being womanly, by the world's standards, is mostly about being good-looking.
Stealing some bad reasoning from 10th grade logic:

If all real women are perfect [LIE]
and I am not perfect
I am not a real woman

When your personal beliefs about who you are stem from a lie that Satan has put in the world, it hurts! The way you see yourself will be twisted, because you're looking into Satan's funhouse mirror. (He has a lot.) The fact of the matter is,

The King is enthralled by your beauty. --psalm 45:11

I think we tend to underestimate God sometimes. It's also hard to listen to His strong truth when the noise of a million billboards and commercials and magazines and even people we know can be so loud. But when you hold them up against each other, God's truth will always ring true.
Confession time. I used to hate myself. I did not like my body, I did not like my hair, how I acted...it went on and on. It was that still, small voice that finally got through my [rather thick] head that I was not ugly, worthless, fat, or stupid.
And once I bothered to believe that, I was joyful.
I still have [major] issues about liking my personality. That is between me and God.

Conclusion. Let's face it. We are not perfect. I am [definitely] not perfect, and I'm sorry, but neither are you. Let's delight in a God that loves us FREAKIN' ANYWAY!
And let's celebrate these shells we have for a few years. They are special creations that we're only going to live in for a few more years.

OUR HEARTS
We have special ones.
What do I mean? I mean that we were created to fill a void.

Adam steps forth, the image of God. Nothing in creation even comes close. Picture Michelangelo’s David. He is… magnificent. Truly the masterpiece seems complete. And yet, the Master says that something is not good, not right. Something in missing… and that something is Eve… And she, too, bears the image of God but in a way that only the feminine can speak. What can we learn from her? God wanted to reveal something about Himself, so he gave us Eve… Eve is created because things were not right without her. Something was not good. …Something is missing? What could it possibly be? Eve. Woman. Femininity. Wow. Talk about significance. --captivating

We are what was missing on the other side of the spectrum. What exactly is that? Gentleness. Delicacy. Strength. The kinds that complement a man's.

A few years ago, this is where I would've stopped reading.
Joanna's inner thoughts, circa 2007: "Complement? Really? You mean I'm not good enough on my own?" *bristle bristle *
Complement does not mean you're only worth something with a man. It means you were designed with pieces missing, so that in marriage you can work as a cohesive unit. Like two Pokemon Bakugan pairing up to form a deadlier, cooler robot. [So cool.]

It also means you were born to represent God's feminine side. Man represents God's leadership, strength, and powerful love. Women represent other stuff.
"That other stuff" is where we tend to get confused. Mostly because this happened:

...and we lost sight of this:

I don't know about you, but the Proverbs 31 woman is nothing to sniff at.

More to follow.

Selfish and curious.

i have no way of seeing how many people read this blog. I'm really curious about how many of you are out there, so if you could just like post your name or something, that'd be SWEET.

i also wanna gauge my audience just to make sure i'm not BC'ing about stuff nooooone cares zilch about.

Womanhood dump #1: Modesty

I have a lot to say.

MODESTY
is a scary word. Sometimes I immediately freeze up when I hear it, images of jean jumpers flashing in my mind.

NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH JEAN JUMPERS. The issue is WHY you're choosing to dress that way. We'll get into that later.
My thoughts on this issue stemmed from a conversation I had with a good friend. We were getting changed for a play, and she was discussing how much trouble she was having with her shirt. "What's wrong?" I asked.
"Well, it's so low. It keeps slipping down."
She leaned over to demonstrate. I thought it was fine, and said so.
"Oh, no," she said, eyes widening, "if you look down standing up and see the crack, it's immodest."

My point with this little anecdote is NOT to demean personal modesty rules. I think they're great, and if you have some that you believe are right for you, stick to 'em. But that's just it -- they're personal. And that's why there's so much controversy over the modesty issue. What's modest? Immodest? Where's the line between them? It's different for every girl -- and there are rarely universal rules. If I had a bigger chest, I'd have to be extra careful about what kind of shirts I choose to wear. If I have a really long torso, maybe I'd buy extra-long tees. That sort of thing. And whether or not you see a crack does not automatically make it immodest. And wearing a jean jumper does not make you modest. I hope you get that.

Back to the "rules." I'll quote God here. Jesus came to earth. Turns out the people who annoyed him the most were Pharisees: leaders who cared more about looking holy and following rules than loving God. In Matthew, Jesus spends almost a whole chapter yelling at them.

23"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cummin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. 24You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel.

25"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. 26Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean.

27"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men's bones and everything unclean. 28In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.

Ouch. I can already say that some of what I try to do just turns me into a whitewashed tomb: trying to change stuff on the outside to make myself better on the inside. Jesus says it's the other way around.
So, cracks aside, our modesty will stem from changing our insides, by chasing after God and listening to Him. Paul urges believers to WEAR Jesus!

Romans 13:14 Clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the sinful nature.

Your (and my) question: "Okay, if my modesty's stemming from my insides, what is the right kind of modesty that's supposed to stem??"

Well, welcome to SubjectiveLand. This is where you and I end up, looking for advice, if we're trying oh-so-hard not to be gratifying our sinful nature.
This is a vague and confusing land to be in. But this is where you can start connecting your heart, glorifying God, and your outward appearance to each other.
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?
That means looking at yourself in the mirror and asking, is this Christian of me today?
It means asking your brother how you look before going somewhere! (Or scarier, your dad!)
It means knowing that you're not going to distract people from your inner loveliness and outward beauty by wearing clothes that take away from those two special things.

A very wise man named Chad Eastham that I had heard at a girly conference once asked us all in the audience a question.
"Are you a treasure or a target?"
Not, "are you dressing slutty or not?" Modesty is so much more than clothes! He asked us if, by the way we dressed, talked, and behaved, we were modest.
Were we being kind to our friends, including guy friends? Were we building them up?
Were we flirty?
Were we acting needy? Were we dependent on guy's approval?
Were we dressing in a way that said, "I'm an easy target?"

God says we're treasures. God loves us so ridiculously much that He died for us. And He chose us especially to live with Him forever. And He wants us to shine that through all the things we do! Our bodies are temples, because the Holy Spirit is inside us.
The conclusion I reached is, I want to dress respectfully because of that.

OTHER SIDE OF THE MODESTY DISCUSSION
"Men are disgusting!"
"They're animals!"
"You know they only want one thing when they look at a woman..."

Hearing this stuff breaks my heart. It hurts that women live in fear of men because of the sexual nature God gave them. (Side note: we have it too. And just because they manifest themselves differently does not make women holy, or men disgusting. Sheesh.)
Modesty can be used as a form of worship -- clothing yourself like a temple housing something precious, God's spirit within you. But it can also be a tool of fear -- being modest because you are scared of men and how they might look at you.

As Christian women, our reason for modesty shouldn't be out of fear. We should want to be modest because we love our brothers, in the same way that we are modest because we love God, and we respect our parents' wishes about how to dress because we love them!
It's mean to be hot, most of the time. Chances are, if your guy friends are trying to follow God, they are already having enough issues as it is. Satan teamed up with the twenty-first century, and he does not make it easy for them. Once upon a time, they had to worry about maybe seeing a girl's ankle. Nowadays, they have to carry around spiritual machine guns and grenades to battle all the stuff that comes at them 24/7. (Guys out there: keep it up, we're rooting for you.)
So be kind. Cover yourself accordingly. They'll probably appreciate it.

YET ANOTHER SIDE OF MODESTY

So you're modest. Or are you?
Modesty is special, powerful, and born out of something inside of you.
That thing could be fear. It could be love. It's better when it's love, by the way. I think I already said that.

What else is in there, nestling inside you? Are you tomboyish, and you don't want to be "cute?" Or are you self-deprecating (you hate yourself), and you think you're "fat" so you wear baggy, big clothes to hide in. Or you wear jean jumpers so that you will appear righteous and holy? The list goes on.

Since there's a lot of reasons, I'm not going to talk about those. I urge you to look at your insides, and see where your modesty, or lack thereof, is stemming from. After all:

The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.

Anyway, I've been careful not to state too many things as gospel truth. There is always, my friends, a chance that I am completely out of line. Please agree and disagree accordingly.

Next up: Femininity.

what a grey day

I never know how to spell grey. Grey or gray? whatever.

I feel so clumsy and big and awkward and goofy. i have no idea WHY. as usual. give me some emotions but please don't bother labeling them or explaining them.
that would be to easy.

i had a giant starbucks, but it hasn't woken me up. it just made me have to pee a lot.

i sat on a baby last night. for like 7 hours. I hope he recovers.

i'll get back to you when i start making sense.

yeah...the school rant.

I really don't like precalculus. I've never been so miserable as today when i got back the test i swore I aced. an 84 honestly isn't bad. it's just annoying to study for 5 hours and get an 84 because of a negative sign and putting a "one" instead of "three" in my answer booklet. really.
it's not like i need the grade to be a comm major...pff. it just annoys.

and the final's on trig. moooore studying.

but did you know that like my lassst semester of high school is gonna be killer. i'm so happy. and maybe i can do everything i want to because
A) i will have my license
B) i will have NO science courses and NO math courses
C) I might find my heart again over winter break.

I'm kind of just on autopilot to survive. I just want to be more than ok. But i feel like I need to be done with math and science first.

i dunno. math and science may come easy to other people. for me it's such a stretch, it's always a challenge to understand the most basic stuff. the smart-___ [indian] [prepster] guy that sits behind me in precalc laughed out loud at me this morning when i had to ask the professor to explain something for the third time. it bothered me, because i know half the other people in the class didn't get it either, so who is he to be whatever.
i dunno. there's a guy in physics like that too. i say to him in my imagination, well if you're so smart-___ then go to freakin' rutgers and leave the remedials alone, you dork!
not speaking of the word ___, (trying to be tasteful...) my lab partner from last week is amusing in the way that he adds -___ to the end of all his adjectives.
so i was talking to him, told him something. he responds with, "yo, that's mad interesting-___." I kinda look at him and repeat, "interesting-___?" Then we're both able to laugh at his ridiculous habit.

i like physics, because it makes sense. precalc is more annoying. what is the point of sines and cosines?
the answer: they're ratios.
question: but like how would you use them in real life? like logarithms help you do interest problems?
answer: uhhh....i dunno.
question: but you're in your sophmore year and in calc II....shouldn't you know what you've been doing the past 3 years?
answer: .....

that is why i do not like higher math.
except i would have lots of fun studying stuff like math theory and infinity and imaginary numbers and black holes.
but they don't teach you that until you learn the numbers e and i. e and i are numbers? really?

we spent two hours this morning talking about wavy lines. why?
good question. a good question that no one will answer for me.

i swear it's a conspiracy.

DtDtU's mission statement

DtDtU will aspire:
1. To be God's megaphone.
2. To give warm fuzzies.
3. To enlighten or remind readers of a world bigger than themselves.
4. To strip blogging of pretense and consciousness of writing.
5. To amuse.
6. To bacon.

I.O.U. One Brilliant Thought

I need to say something
I don't even know what it is!
And the more I stare at the paper
the more ways my brain invents
to be squeezed through a pen
like i was a giant sponge
waiting to rain.
i could tell you thing thing,
it's brilliant (or at least, I'll try to make it seem, with fancy verses and quotes from musty books I haven't actually read)
and it's important (or at least, I could pretend, by writing it in a poem or facebook status) and it's special (or I hope you'd think it was, and I'd try really hard to make it seem it).
But I don't think I will.
I'll keep it to myself. I won't call it art or inspiration or revelation.
I won't call it anything.
I'll hold it tight to my chest and let it hum to me all day.
Sorry. I owe you for this one.

revamped, remodeled and remusic'd!

enjoy enjoy. more words and things that are supposed to be on blogs coming soon.

i'm kind of tired, but it hasn't really hit me yet

sitting here in my chik-fil-a uniform...wanting to take my socks off, but being merciful to those in the general vicinity. work goes by fast with the awesome people I work with. there's mary and melmo and the two andrews. we throw stuff at each other and make faces. i also sing to our last customer when i feel like it. there was this chick who recorded me singing this epic broadway song to her about her chicken nuggets. it's probably on youtube. no shame.
anyway.

finally understanding physics. i actually like physics. a lot. because it matters. and i'm good at it.

i'm so lazy, i don't even capitalize. cause the key is so far away from where i'm at with my 2-4 finger typing. and to capitalize, i'd have to lift my wrist.

i got a spot on the paper next semester. i'm head copy editor. happy happy. copy editing might seem a bad idea for not-capitalizing woman, but i love editing. i just don't edit my blogs cause none of you care cause you're awesome that way.
i did just go back and change youre to you're, though.
so yeah, editor. it's a big deal. now i just have to actually register for the internship.

God and i are talking, but not as much as i'd like. always my fault. it's kind of a good sign that i did bother to capitalize him, though. habit.

i got kind of a story idea from looking at a leaf today. i thought, if this was the sail to a tiny boat, that would be awesome. (yeah...my mind jumps weird places. if your mind goes from A to B, mine goes from A to leaf to boats.) so i'll probably think about writing, and then not write.

to get from my door to my bed, i have to toss aside stuff. it's like a sea of crap. papers that are crumpled and important and lost....clothes that i wore for an hour and then changed out of because i'm stupid like that....broken ipod headphones....stuffed animals....small children....

my family went to ihop without me tonight. let me tell you why this is annoying. first of all, it's ihop. second, i've been bugging my mom about going to ihop for forever. i've only been ONCE (yeah, that's right, capitalization) and that was a loooooong time ago. since then my mom's avoided it. but all of a sudden, now that my grandma's visiting, they decide to go ihop exactly at the time that i work. orchestrated? doubt it. cruel? yeah. it hurts real bad.

i'm going to take my precious bundle of pancake pain and cry myself to sleep.

my cheeks are really warm. now don't ya wanna ask which ones.

I really want a thumb piano. Like, really bad.
i found a hippie flute from Peru in a cabinet yesterday. needless to say I have been annoying my family a.m.a.p. ( as much as possible.)

in other news, I'm scared about my first Precalc exam. Which is on monday.Yay.

i'm also tired. and i have to go to work. for like 7 hours. minimum wage baby!!

falafel.

frumple!

so i was sad because i wasn't happy. then i was not happy but i wasn't sad. now i'm happy for no reason. maybe it's because i'm not sad. maybe it's because i stopped caring whether or not i was happy or not. or because i decided to be happy instead of thinking about being happy or trying to make myself happy. because when i try to do that...i get sad. so i'm happy.

Me! Babbling! Again!

she rises to find a tool
to etch herself into paper,
to pull herself out of thought
and into existence.
she reaches to find a place
to put herself into being,
to find a book to hide her words in,
and begins.

the swish-swish of long skirts
with exotic prints and colors, eyes
painted dark, cradling novels like
children, cradling children like
dreams, and dreams are dreams.
A future like infinite particles,
and reaching out, touching --
and the possibility overwhelms.

Being a person is so strange. I feel
as if I was meant to be a tree,
and there was a mix-up in Heaven.

I like talking to God in my own room.
Or by myself.
It is strange to have people talk God to me,
to put me in a chair
and to put God into a time zone.

Mirrors aren't measuring sticks
mirrors aren't to see ourselves

Remembering hammock days
ice tea days dock days the days
that we pretend we are most happy.

I wish I had a word to fit
everything into -- to squish
happymelodylighteyelidsmeadowsbelieve
and scream it in ice cream parlors
and pizza joints and into the ears
of girls who think they are fat
and make people look up again.

In Heaven,
Jeremiah and I will have a lot to talk about.

Untitled

I cannot remember the first time
I skipped a meal on purpose. Skipped is
the wrong word -- like I wasn't
screaming inside for the food on my
plate, like I wasn't imploding, like
I wasn't ready to eat the stupid
burger already, shove it down my mouth
and smile to say "just kidding." I
watched the mirrors in my house that
year, always watching, looking at my
thighs and my love handles. I remember
my goal was to be able to stand, look
down at my toes and see my whole
feet, not eclipsed by the tiny roundness of
my pale stomach. The doctors told
me 125 pounds was healthy, my
friends told me that I looked fine, but
all I heard was fat fat
fat fat fat fat fat fat, the
sick tattoo of an internal drum.
"All I want is to be skinny and
beautiful" I kept saying, like if I
became skinny, true beauty would follow.
"All I want is to be beautiful" I said,
which really meant I want
to be liked, which really meant
I want to like myself.
I was 15 and tall and gawky and just
wanted crushes to crush back, wanted
to be stunning and amazing and
womanly. My cup size
and my shoe size told me I couldn't.
My daddy said i could and so did
the Bible on my shelf. But the creaking
in my stomach made me burn, made me
feel better, made me smaller, made me
better, I was pretty, I was pretty --
and one day, God said, "no more." Just --
stop. And I did. It was hard. It hurt.
They never tell you that it hurts to
start eating after not really eating.
It feels strange, and then you have to
not throw it back up. But then you can live again.
I am not 125 pounds anymore. I am more.
But I am beautiful. And it has been a long time
since I did not eat, on purpose.

Glass Girl

the careful way she smiles
with her glass teeth and
porcelain face fragile and
breakable scared to walk to
breathe to speak she would
shatter if she moved
glass blown eyes forged in
fear glazed with insecurity
chips in her china hands
she has made herself a
doll body she hates she hates
she hates this herself her
but it is too late if
she opens her mouth to
speak her lips will break
and fall away