Currently Reading White Oleander (Oprah's Book Club) By Janet Fitch see related

I'm beginning to wonder if the little radar thing-a-majigs that cops use to determine the speed of a car are also capable of determining whether a driver is in desperate need of some sort of life-lesson. A reality check. A poke in the ribs. An awakening. Because that's what I always seem to get. The officer sits in his car reviewing my information, as long-stifled tears swell, hot and steaming, into my eyes.  I am entranced by the trees and leaves of swaying grass on the side of the road, flashing green, then blue, then red, green, blue, red... I sink inside myself and allow the pulsing orbs of color to enclose me and pull me deep, deep into dark and numbing tunnels.

This summer I have avoided, at all costs, facing the pathetic reality of my life, how I waste half my days, sleep as much as I can, and put no effort into anything of importance aside from my ridiculous "career" at a burger joint. I sleep when I'm awake and I'm awake when I sleep. It's been working for a while now. I can smile for hours when I'm asleep. Open doors, greet guests, take drink orders. I can even manage to hold a full conversation in a coffee shop, or while shopping for ruffled skirts and the perfect pair of heels with my good friend Debbie.

But I, I am found only in my dreams.

Only one person has been able to lure me from this sleeping state this summer.
I flipped open my cell phone and stared at the blurry numbers as I waited for the officer, and realized I couldn't call him. I can't do that to him.

Sweet boy. The closest friend I've had in years. He'll be a Senior at Taylor University this year, and he's interning at the local newspaper. He has been the most kind and patient and caring friend throughout my tough transition to WMU. Friend. Unbeknownst to me, he has long desired more than friendship. How could I not have known? Weekly e-mails became every few days, then phone calls, then text messages throughout the day. 

Now that I know, now that I've crushed his hopes, I can't bear the thought of hurting him even more. But I've lost my best friend, and I miss him.

I miss him.

I close my phone with a snap. A friend of mine said seeing a girl cry makes him feel awkward and terrible, so out of respect for him, I wipe away every tear. The officer kindly says he'll give me a warning for going 33 in a 25, but I'll have to pay for not wearing a seat belt.

I avoid his gaze and say "Thank you" as I take the ticket. He knows I was crying.

"Just be safe, ok?" His voice is so tender, I feel it's warmth wrap around my shoulders.

My eyes grow hot and prickly, like dry puffs of cotton on fire, and I start to cry again. But not until he is back in his car.

I wish I could feel the same way about him, just to make him happy.

I wish we could stay friends.

I wish... but what good does wishing do

Currently Listening Fall and Winter By Jon Foreman see related

My most recent accomplishments:

1. One of my poems was selected as a top ten finalist in the Frostic Creative Writing Awards-- a writing contest open to all Western Michigan University students

2. My manager said he wanted to give me a raise for being his best hostess

I know I can do so much more. Why haven't I? Why?

I have been stuck, motionless and numb, in a deep and grimy rut. I haven't even attempted to climb out. I drove down to Fort Wayne on Wednesday to see one of my closest friends. We met at school, went for a long, invigorating walk around Foster park-- (one of my favorite activities during fall semester at Taylor)-- and talked. Reminisced. I loved that school... the people.  

But now I am here. Western has many opportunities for writers, if only I would attempt to move forward. One of my co-workers writes for the Western Herald. She gets paid for it. And, the best part is, they have openings. They are desperate for writers, and I am a writer.

I have made up my mind. It's time to start climbing.

Ohhh wow. WMU is huge!!! I got lost. I am so directionally challenged, it's pathetic. I wandered around in the rain for about 20 minutes, and by some miracle (God took pity on me, and guided my feet, I'm sure!), I made it to class on time. At least I only have one class today.

Tomorrow I have Fiction and Poetry Writing, British Literature II, and to finish off the day, Shakespeare. I'm excited! The apartment my bro and I are sharing isn't too shabby either, and I can tell that we are already growing closer. Sunday we might check out a new church, Calvary, and get plugged in to their Sr. High and college groups.

It's so surreal... being back.

In order to fulfill the requirements of a successful Christmas break, I have been spending a good chunk of my time with my nose in a book. Or a few. That's not the point. So I was reading a book this afternoon on our living room couch, minding my own business, when I overheard my mom on the phone. She was sitting on the couch perpendicular to mine.

I could tell from her curt responses and the tone of her voice that she was conversing with a salesperson of some sort.

"You can lower the interest rates of my credit cards?"

--Hmm. Fishy.-- I thought.

I stopped minding my own business, and soaked up every word that leaked from my mother's  mouth.

"Yes, I have my credit card here, but I don't have my husband's." She pulled out the shiny plastic square and fiddled with it, and I noticed the small crinkle between her eyebrows, the slight, downward curve of her lips, as she continued listening to the sales person.

"You need my credit card number?"

I decided to mind my mom's business. "Mom! Don't. It could be a scam!"

"I'd rather not give that over the phone," she said. The crinkle deepend. Apparently the guy could tell mom was too tough for him to crack, so the amateur transferred her to another sales person. He brought in reinforcements! Slimy.

She listened for a few more minutes, and I thought she was about to hang up, so I decided to go back to my book.

"**** **** **** ****" My eyes shot to the opposite couch, and I saw my mom reading off the numbers on her credit card. "You need the 3 numbers on the back?"

--Oh, for the love of all that's good! Why!?!-- I shrieked inside my head

"MOM!" I tried to soften my vocal shriek... a tad.  "Don't! No! You're never supposed to give out those numbers on the phone!" I guess I'm a bit of a drama queen.

Well, she gave the lady all the numbers. When mom was put on hold, she looked calmly at me and said "The lady explained it all to me. She's from Freedom [something stupid] Resources, and they are going to lower the interest rates on all our credit cards by 1%."

--Ok,-- I thought-- I'll just let her do what she wants. And pray. Really hard.

"Wait, this is going to cost me $700.00? Why weren't you up front with me about that?"
Pause. "I'm having second thoughts about this."

--Yes!! Sense has arrived!--

"Mom," I tried to reason with her, "why don't you tell her that you  need some time to think it over and to consult dad?"

"I would really like to take some time to consider this and talk with my husband. Can you call back later tonight?"
Pause.
"Well, yes, my husband respects my judgement, at least to some extent..."

My righteous anger is boiling, and I so desperately want to act on it!
I want to grab the phone and say "Listen you manipulative, conniving, greedy, desperate sales hag! My mother is trying to be polite, which is much more than you deserve at this moment. I have worked for a prestigious book company as a customer service representative, and I know that the tactics you are implementing are downright deceitful. As a potential customer, you should be treating her with respect and allowing her time to consider your proposition. If you are not willing to grant her this, then we choose to politely refuse your offer. Goodbye." Click.

Unfortunately, I did not intervene, and my poor mother was cornered into it. She accepted the offer.

At this moment, my dad is investigating the company that just charged him $700.00, but he is skeptical, too.

Poor mom! She said she wishes she would have listened to me. I do, too. For her sake.
But, most of all, I wish I would have been wrong. I wish I didn't need to be so distrusting and skeptical. I wish stupid sales hags wouldn't prey upon people, especially my mom!

One Last Time

Tonight was rather ordinary, I suppose, from the eyes of any onlooker or outsider. Yet, tonight was supremely valuable and memorable, for me, at least.

My friends gathered together (during finals week-- and 3 of my friends are in high leadership positions with busy busy busy schedules) and took me out to Steak 'n' Shake for a "goodbye party." It was a night of laughter, joy, heart-felt appreciation, and good-wishes.
My friends pitched in together and bought me a book by my new favorite author, Madeleine L'Engle, and they each wrote a special note to me on the first couple of pages. One of my friends, whom I greatly respect and admire as a devoted and passionate lover of God, wrote "I have seen a beautiful woman in whom the light of Christ shines fiercely. It is obvious that your first love is Him." I felt so unworthy of those words the moment I read them, for she is not aware of my faults, at least not as deeply and vividly as I am. Yet, I know I must continue to remind myself that my sins are payed for, and that is all the more reason to keep on trying!  

I am overwhelmingly grateful for the time I was privlieged enough to spend with these wonderful girls. I have learned more from them than I am even aware of, I'm sure. I will treasure the discussions we've had, and the memories we've created, together.

Oh, such bitter-sweet goodbyes. . .