Re-Identification

How do you let go of a person you were and become the person you want to be? Why am I even asking a question like that? I have decided, for the hundredth time, to quit smoking. I wanted to quit before I headed off to Philadelphia, but what I'm finding is that quitting isn't so much "quitting" as it is "reidentifying". I have been smoking since I was 16. And as some people already know, I considered it, at the time, the lesser of two evils. There's no point in rehashing that whole process. The thing that bothers me is that I cannot seem to overcome this first step: Just getting rid of my cigarettes. I think that a part of me thinks I will fail, and that I will be miserable without them. The other strange thing about this time is that I actually believe I can quit. Why do I believe that? I'm really asking.
I'm hoping to document my journey through smoking cessation here on this blog (that no one is reading, but who cares), not only for someone else's benefit, but also as a kind of "accountability". It helps that no one is reading this blog, because it will be easier for me to be honest. Tomorrow is my official "quit" date. And I will keep you updated.

The reason I called this post "Re-Identification" is because that is really the process my life is going through right now. First, I had to manipulate my perception of myself as a healthy person into that of a semi-unhealthy person. You can't consider yourself "healthy" when doctors tell you that your Vitamin D is toxically low, that you have something akin to Narcolepsy, and that you are bipolar (and have borderline personality disorder (I took that with a grain of salt)). I will never qualify for health insurance...and I've come to grips with that... Second, I had to change my perception of myself from a student to, well, a worker. I am no longer a student, because I am no longer in school. That, particularly, was difficult. It might have been easier if I had finished a degree, but I didn't - and it has been incredibly hard. Third, I went from completely independent to almost totally dependent. I no longer pay bills or cook my own food. I own almost nothing, and I cannot see a time in the near future when I that trend will reverse itself. So, now, this identity of rebellious, smoking, drinking rock chick is the last one standing. I don't consider myself "rebellious" anymore; I call it "alternative" now (with a smile). But the smoking thing, which used to be a socializing mechanism, has become a way of isolating myself. No one would believe how much I like isolating myself. And that identity has replaced some of my old ones...
I'm not sure how much my life should change. I only know that I can barely handle one thing changing at a time. But cigarettes are expensive, and I'll die someday if I don't quit. I know it, even if I don't really think about it. So, I'm going to quit. Tomorrow. June 1st.

Why Is This So Significant?

What I mean by "this" is change.  Why is change such a big deal?  Why have I never been able to deal with it?

I opened the file called "writersblock", which is a compilation of all of my blog posts from 2002-2006.  I deleted them a couple years ago and put them all on that document, because, let's be honest, it was about time to let go of some of those old ones.  But it's strange, reading those old posts from 2002 and 2003 - six years old, man.  And, I'll just say it, I was definitely a better writer when I was younger - probably because I read more.  Who knows...?

But it's so sad to me.  I don't like thinking about those years, because I can't help wondering who I would be if some of that shit hadn't happened?  There was so much more that went on in Sweden than what I wrote on my blog, and the person I was when I came back was so completely different than the person I was before I went, or really the person I would have been if I hadn't gone.  And that sounds like no big deal, because that's what happens.  But it still makes me feel angry that I did it.  

I'm rambling.  I blame Scrubs.  I just watched the series finale, and it made me sad, like when I watched the series finale of Six Feet Under (fantastic show, by the way).  And probably the way I felt when I watched the last Gilmore Girls episode.  Whatever.  I hate change, and I'm terrified of what's coming next.  I keep looking to Philadelphia as this monumental, life changing thing, and I know I'm going to be disappointed if I see it that way.  But what can I do?  I'm barely holding on here.  Sort of like how I felt the summer before I went to Sweden (I won't pretend that I don't see a pattern).  All I can look forward to is one thing, and nothing past that seems even remotely clear because I know how big of a life changing thing it is.  That's how I feel right now:  like I'm looking at my future and seeing nothing past July.

And I feel like I'm going crazy.

Beautiful

I heard this beautiful song on Bones the other night, and, well, it got me.  

Here are the lyrics:

Maria Taylor - Time Lapse Lifeline

I'm keeping up, keeping up with the time lapse lifeline / And they can run they can run from the font to the last rites / And we can hear we can hear the first beat to the flat line / I'm keeping up, keeping up with the time lapse lifeline / And once it's done

Oh we dream a life / It was just like that, was like that / And just like that, and just like that it's done / Oh we dream a life / It was just like that, was like that / And just like that, and just like that it's done

Back it up, back it up / Stop, fast-forward, rewind / And watch the sun watch the moon taking turns in the same sky /And you were dead as the leaves now you're new like the spring-time / Back it up, back it up / Stop, fast-forward, rewind / And once it's done

Oh we dream a life / It was just like that, was like that / And just like that, and just like that it's done / Oh we dream a life / It was just like that, was like that / And just like that, and just like that it's done

Still we stand with the help of a steady hand / Capture images of boy and man / Till it's done
And 7 years combined is just a flicker of neon sign / Little negative of hopes replayed / Till they're done, oh they're done

Oh we dream a life / It was just like, was like that / And just like that, and just like that it's done
Oh we dream a life / It was just like, was like that / And just like that, and just like that it's done

Time Lapse Lifeline - Maria Taylor

Morning

A couple days ago I volunteered to drive my pastor's wife to the airport in Omaha at 3:30 in the morning.  It's not a long drive, and the round trip usually ends up being somewhere around 2 hours.  But this morning there was an ungodly amount of fog everywhere.  Driving there was worse because it was dark, and there wasn't much traffic.  But as I explained to Karen, I love driving early in the morning - I don't care where I am or what it's like (as long as it's not blizzarding, hailing, or pouring rain), I love driving in the early morning.  I love being awake early in the morning.  

On my way back to Lincoln, it began to get brighter, and something magnificent happened to the fog.  It became the same color as the sky (which, I suppose, isn't really that amazing).  The reason it looked so cool was because I was suddenly surrounded by blue everywhere - in every direction.  It was like driving through the ocean - with slight traffic and some construction.  Seriously.  It was really cool.

I think the most tragic part of my sleeping difficulties is that I am never waking up in the morning.  If I see the sunrise, it's usually because someone has dragged me out of bed or because I haven't gone to sleep.  This morning it was because I hadn't slept.  It wasn't a huge sacrifice to drive Karen to the airport in the middle of the night/early morning.  The real problem was an appointment I spaced at 10 AM, so there was little chance I'd make it if I slept.  So, here I am, blogging (and probably not doing a very good job of it) at 6:30 in the morning.  But, I'm not really complaining, because this is probably the only morning I'll see for a while...

Sleeping is a curse

I can only feel so bad about missing everything. Missing church, though tragic, is not as bad in my mind as missing a test. But I wish anyway that I hadn't missed anything. I hate that sinking feeling that I get when I wake up and the clock tells me that I've been sleeping a lot longer than I should have. And no one can tell me why my alarm can go off for hours and I don't hear it. The longer this goes on, the less I believe anyone cares.

Who would have ever guessed...

that when I walked into the Keyzer male establishment I would be greeted in such a way. First, I was nervous because a guy was there that, when I had last seen him, told me he hated me, because I hadn't returned any of his phone calls. That was during a time when the only people I talked to on the phone were Gunter, Beca, and Ember. But, he was incredibly friendly, and even suggested we "catch up". Finally, the opportunity to apologize, right? Then, Matt, who let me just say was beyond drunk, told me, "Becca, you're a good person. I hope you know that I mean that." If you know my history with Matt, this is probably the last thing I would ever expect him to say to me, but, hey, he totally did. And then there was the cuddling with David (who, I think, was also kind of drunk, but whatever). It was kind of like the old days, before all that other crap.
One thing I know about those two boys, whom I love like brothers (though I'm not really sure what it would be like to have a brother since I don't have any), is that they are both collapsing deep down. I feel like a cliche saying this, but they both want Jesus so badly, and I think they both know it deep down but won't accept it. And that kills me.
They both called me a recluse tonight. I take some satisfaction in that, since it was their fault I kind of hid out in my apartment. I don't mind it now, being alone I mean, but they don't know me like that. The Becca they know is super dependent and outgoing. So I can see how it would be hard for them to fathom a "reclusive" Becca. That's alright with me.
I would love to say that I'm "over" what happened last year - losing them in such a dramatic and let me just say stupid way - but I know that I'm not really. I mean, I don't hold it against them anymore. I really don't. But I don't trust anyone in that family now. I know that's sad, but I think that's fair too. I put so much trust in them (I never knew people like them), only to feel totally betrayed. When I look at those months now, I know that it was completely a blessing in disguise, but it was one of the most difficult trials I have ever faced - I could barely get of bed - and I don't want to suffer like that ever again.
How do you learn to trust people? I've never been very good at it. I think most of the time I chose to trust them on a surface level but never trusted them on that deeper more spiritual end. If I can't learn to trust them or even my own family, how will I ever learn to trust a man enough to marry him? That's not my "goal" in life, but I want that kind of relationship someday, you know? I want that "forever" kind of thing. But I'm not sure that I am the kind of person that gets the "forever". Luckily, Rob Bell points out, God can fill that hole too. Whatever. I felt that those last few hours of my evening were worth documenting. They were super drunk and won't remember what they said to me, and they'll also never know how important it was for me to hear them speaking the truth finally - and find out, on top of that - that I actually still matter to them, and they feel the loss of me. It's always nice to know you're missed, you know? Especially by people who betrayed you.

Songwriter Power Ranger

This is the flier I made for Ember's new deal at the Box Awesome.