After almost six miserable months of no direction, the needle on my compass has finally found its way back to North. I've been barely surviving these past few months: living at my parents' house, just got a job last month at Walmart, singing a little, reading, and wasting time online. I wasn't working towards anything and didn't even know what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go. If asked where I saw myself in 5 or 10 years, the honest answer was, "no idea." The future was a huge hole. Rather than a light at the end of a tunnel, I felt like I was on a train hurdling faster and faster into a cave with no other end. And then my "fever broke."
I was in a meeting with my counselor on Wednesday when I gave her one of the "missing puzzle pieces" which I thought she had known all along. With that information, she helped me make sense of connections and priorities between my main goals/dreams in life. By the end of the session, I had a plan of action (somewhat) and something to work towards. Later that day, I was able to understand a decision I had made a few months ago. I knew that the decision was somehow logical, but until I saw the connection, I had no idea how or why it made sense. I get it now. And, with changes I'll be making in my life, the decision will probably be reversed in time.
In the short-term, my plans are still being worked out. There are a number of different paths I can take but at least now I know where they are leading.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Reality sucks
During my year in Budapest, every few days I would have "pinch me" moments. Those moments where it hit me again: I actually am in Budapest. I'm living in my favorite city in the world. Being in Europe is my "normal." I'm not 4000+ miles away from my favorite ice cream and pastry shops. I have a full-time job with benefits and can afford life.
After being back in the States for a few months, I'm having those "pinch me" moments again. Only this time I want the pinch to wake me from a bad dream even though I know this is reality. Make all of the statements above negative and that's pretty much what these moments strike me with.
And, it's even bigger than that. I swore when I started college that I was never moving back to Steubenville. Now, my options are live here with my parents or be homeless. That's not much of a choice. On top of being back in the States, being stuck in Steubenville is like adding insult to injury. Unless you go to the university, there is very little of interest or value in this town. I don't know when I've ever felt so trapped. There are simply no opportunities here. I finally have a job (part time in a walmart bakery) but still don't have a car and pretty much anything meaningful requires a trip to Pittsburgh which requires use of a car, gas money, and large amounts of time.
If I was still in a city, I think things would be better but, as it is, I'm not. I keep getting information about auditions for all kinds of choirs and shows in Pittsburgh but, if I'm honest with myself, I'm just too far away for that to really be feasible. Which means I'm stuck with VERY minimal musical opportunities and little chance to improve them. Church choir, while good, only goes so far. The one community group which I've joined is disbanding after the next concert and, even if it wasn't, I wouldn't stay with them because the director's rehearsal and conducting skills, or COMPLETE lack thereof, make me want to walk out every week. I *am* splurging and driving into Pittsburgh every other week or so for voice lessons with a new teacher. Unfortunately, while they are going as well as they can, we have to go painfully slowly as we work to correct years of bad (or not ideal or something) technique that I had drilled into me. I wish God would give me a new dream based on the way this one is falling apart but that doesn't seem to be happening.
To make an already bad situation even worse, my depression is at the worst that it's been in years if not ever. I have no interest in doing much of anything and find plodding through the day about the most I can handle. It's as if, rather than seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, I'm realizing that I've driven into a cave. My doctor isn't helping as it takes four months to get an appointment (I wish I was exaggerating). Since it's easier to see the nurse practitioner, I'm going tomorrow but since she hasn't been treating me since the beginning I'm worried that it will be harder to move forward compared to my doc who knows all the different meds I've already tried. I'm furious with my ex for nagging me into stopping my meds and myself for caving to his radical views. There is so much rage bottled up inside toward him that some days I almost want to write a nasty email telling him just how badly he screwed me up mentally and emotionally. I know he didn't "mean" to but it doesn't change the facts.
As for God, I know He's out there. And I guess I believe He cares. Maybe. I'm just spiritually dead. Oh, sure, I'm going through the motions: reading my Bible, working through a spiritual book, going to daily Mass most of the time, praying before meals, etc. but mostly because I have time and I feel like I "should" go. I love the new translations of the Mass except for one in the prayer after the Our Father --
After being back in the States for a few months, I'm having those "pinch me" moments again. Only this time I want the pinch to wake me from a bad dream even though I know this is reality. Make all of the statements above negative and that's pretty much what these moments strike me with.
And, it's even bigger than that. I swore when I started college that I was never moving back to Steubenville. Now, my options are live here with my parents or be homeless. That's not much of a choice. On top of being back in the States, being stuck in Steubenville is like adding insult to injury. Unless you go to the university, there is very little of interest or value in this town. I don't know when I've ever felt so trapped. There are simply no opportunities here. I finally have a job (part time in a walmart bakery) but still don't have a car and pretty much anything meaningful requires a trip to Pittsburgh which requires use of a car, gas money, and large amounts of time.
If I was still in a city, I think things would be better but, as it is, I'm not. I keep getting information about auditions for all kinds of choirs and shows in Pittsburgh but, if I'm honest with myself, I'm just too far away for that to really be feasible. Which means I'm stuck with VERY minimal musical opportunities and little chance to improve them. Church choir, while good, only goes so far. The one community group which I've joined is disbanding after the next concert and, even if it wasn't, I wouldn't stay with them because the director's rehearsal and conducting skills, or COMPLETE lack thereof, make me want to walk out every week. I *am* splurging and driving into Pittsburgh every other week or so for voice lessons with a new teacher. Unfortunately, while they are going as well as they can, we have to go painfully slowly as we work to correct years of bad (or not ideal or something) technique that I had drilled into me. I wish God would give me a new dream based on the way this one is falling apart but that doesn't seem to be happening.
To make an already bad situation even worse, my depression is at the worst that it's been in years if not ever. I have no interest in doing much of anything and find plodding through the day about the most I can handle. It's as if, rather than seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, I'm realizing that I've driven into a cave. My doctor isn't helping as it takes four months to get an appointment (I wish I was exaggerating). Since it's easier to see the nurse practitioner, I'm going tomorrow but since she hasn't been treating me since the beginning I'm worried that it will be harder to move forward compared to my doc who knows all the different meds I've already tried. I'm furious with my ex for nagging me into stopping my meds and myself for caving to his radical views. There is so much rage bottled up inside toward him that some days I almost want to write a nasty email telling him just how badly he screwed me up mentally and emotionally. I know he didn't "mean" to but it doesn't change the facts.
As for God, I know He's out there. And I guess I believe He cares. Maybe. I'm just spiritually dead. Oh, sure, I'm going through the motions: reading my Bible, working through a spiritual book, going to daily Mass most of the time, praying before meals, etc. but mostly because I have time and I feel like I "should" go. I love the new translations of the Mass except for one in the prayer after the Our Father --
"Deliver us, Lord, we pray, from every evil, graciously grant peace in our days, that, by the help of your mercy, we may be always free from sin and safe from all distress, as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Saviour, Jesus Christ" the priest prays.I can't help but give a silent, morbid chuckle every time I hear it. If the prayer is asking (as it appears) to be kept safe from distress then either God's not listening or He and I have very different opinions of what constitutes distress. I'm not saying that things couldn't be worse (which, with my luck, they probably will become) or trying to imply that no one has ever dealt with more crap than all this, but I'm not exactly walking through a field of daisies.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Smoking and a deer
My two favorite moments about Valentine's Day yesterday were a man smoking a cigarette and a song about a deer. A close second (which would probably be first if it actually happened on the day) was a comment from Mass on Sunday.
It's been just over a year since one of the worst mistakes of my life began. Thankfully, it's also been about six months since it finally ended. I can dwell on the "if only I had known"s but that wouldn't change the facts. I ended up in a toxic relationship. I allowed that person to affect multiple areas of my life which they really had no business interfering with. I am dealing with the results. While there is still a long way to go, I am making progress. More and more days I make it through Mass without thinking about the fact that I'm wearing pants or worrying if my shirt is cut lower than "two finger-widths below the pit of the throat" OR snarkily wearing a shirt precisely because it's cut lower than that (I can assure you that if anyone EVER tries to admonish me about those blasted two fingers again I will tell them exactly what they can do with them). My medicine doesn't get a second thought . . . well, except for needing to talk to my doctor about upping the dosage or finding something else because after almost weaning all the way off of them in the fall they aren't enough anymore. Even knowing that there was a chance Mass would be a TLM, I still went to St. Pete's on Sunday, admittedly telling myself over and over "even if it's TLM, it's still Jesus' Mass and no one else's. I don't go on the guy's blog or check facebook. I haven't even been on Catholic Match since December.
But Valentine's Day was nice. I was walking across the FUS campus to daily Mass when I happened to be behind a student smoking a cigarette. I don't smoke. Never have, never will. And I'm not a big fan of smoking in general. But as I smelled that smoke for a few seconds I realized again just how free I really am. No one can yell at me because I'm "endangering my future children" because the five seconds of second-hand smoke exposure will harm my eggs thereby resulting in deformed descendents (I wish I was kidding). No one can embarrass me by loudly exclaiming "EWWWW SMOKE!!!" and pulling me to the other side of the street (again, I wish I wasn't speaking from personal experience). No, I am free. And in that moment of smoke, my freedom was clear as day.
The second moment of Valentine's Day was at the end of church choir practice. I had jokingly told the choir director last week that if I "had to be at choir practice on Valentine's Day we had better be singing more of the Tallis and Palestrina and less of the rest" although, the music we're working on now is nothing compared to some pieces we've done (in the words of my sister "kum ba ya by any other name is still kum ba ya"). We had gotten to nearly the end of rehearsal and neither of those pieces had shown themselves. Finally, as the last piece, our director passed out Sicut Cervus by Palestrina. We sang through and I realized (not for the first time) that my love of this piece of music is one of the few things that I shared with my ex with which I do not have negative associations. I think that comes from the fact that I had loved it long before he was part of my life and I will continue loving it now that he is no longer part of my life. In any case, I'm very glad that I didn't "lose" it in the mess.
Finally, Sunday was World Marriage Day. As I mentioned, I went to a different parish and so, got to hear a homily by a priest I rarely see. There were a set of very interesting coincidences about this particular Mass.
It's been just over a year since one of the worst mistakes of my life began. Thankfully, it's also been about six months since it finally ended. I can dwell on the "if only I had known"s but that wouldn't change the facts. I ended up in a toxic relationship. I allowed that person to affect multiple areas of my life which they really had no business interfering with. I am dealing with the results. While there is still a long way to go, I am making progress. More and more days I make it through Mass without thinking about the fact that I'm wearing pants or worrying if my shirt is cut lower than "two finger-widths below the pit of the throat" OR snarkily wearing a shirt precisely because it's cut lower than that (I can assure you that if anyone EVER tries to admonish me about those blasted two fingers again I will tell them exactly what they can do with them). My medicine doesn't get a second thought . . . well, except for needing to talk to my doctor about upping the dosage or finding something else because after almost weaning all the way off of them in the fall they aren't enough anymore. Even knowing that there was a chance Mass would be a TLM, I still went to St. Pete's on Sunday, admittedly telling myself over and over "even if it's TLM, it's still Jesus' Mass and no one else's. I don't go on the guy's blog or check facebook. I haven't even been on Catholic Match since December.
But Valentine's Day was nice. I was walking across the FUS campus to daily Mass when I happened to be behind a student smoking a cigarette. I don't smoke. Never have, never will. And I'm not a big fan of smoking in general. But as I smelled that smoke for a few seconds I realized again just how free I really am. No one can yell at me because I'm "endangering my future children" because the five seconds of second-hand smoke exposure will harm my eggs thereby resulting in deformed descendents (I wish I was kidding). No one can embarrass me by loudly exclaiming "EWWWW SMOKE!!!" and pulling me to the other side of the street (again, I wish I wasn't speaking from personal experience). No, I am free. And in that moment of smoke, my freedom was clear as day.
The second moment of Valentine's Day was at the end of church choir practice. I had jokingly told the choir director last week that if I "had to be at choir practice on Valentine's Day we had better be singing more of the Tallis and Palestrina and less of the rest" although, the music we're working on now is nothing compared to some pieces we've done (in the words of my sister "kum ba ya by any other name is still kum ba ya"). We had gotten to nearly the end of rehearsal and neither of those pieces had shown themselves. Finally, as the last piece, our director passed out Sicut Cervus by Palestrina. We sang through and I realized (not for the first time) that my love of this piece of music is one of the few things that I shared with my ex with which I do not have negative associations. I think that comes from the fact that I had loved it long before he was part of my life and I will continue loving it now that he is no longer part of my life. In any case, I'm very glad that I didn't "lose" it in the mess.
Finally, Sunday was World Marriage Day. As I mentioned, I went to a different parish and so, got to hear a homily by a priest I rarely see. There were a set of very interesting coincidences about this particular Mass.
- The priest preached about marriage (OK, not surprising as it was World Marriage Day)
- The girls sitting in front of me thought that was funny.
- I'm pretty sure their amusement was due to the fact that they are two of his granddaughters.
- Yes, Mass on World Marriage Day was celebrated by a married priest (he used to be Episcopal)
- Fr. mentioned at the end of Mass that it was also the 29th anniversary of his ordination to the priesthood.
While that collection of coincidences was fascinating, my favorite thing was something he mentioned in his homily. He told the story of a couple who were meeting with their pastor for the last pre-marriage counseling session before the wedding. The priest told the couple that everything they had learned about the Catholic Church's teachings on marriage could be summed up in one sentence: "And the two shall become one." The groom-to-be nervously asked "which one?"
On hearing this story, the congregation appropriately chuckled and then Fr. continued, reassuring us, as the other priest had the groom-to-be, that this did not mean that the couple would become totally absorbed into one indistinguishable entity. According to Pope Paul VI in Humanae Vitae, they do become one in a mystical sense while retaining their individual personalities and the like. Although I have no plans to get married, this was such a relief to hear articulated. At one point in our relationship, I had been chatting with my ex about the idea of women keeping their last names when they married (yet another red flag -- we should NOT have been talking about marriage a few months into a friendship when we hadn't even spoken to each other let alone met). He vehemently opposed the idea saying that by keeping her maiden name a woman was "saying the marriage meant nothing more than a partnership and not a true two become one union." I tried to articulate what I believed (basically what Fr. described on Sunday) but he still disagreed. The only concession that I managed to get out of him was "well I suppose you still have individual souls." God help the woman (if she exists) that marries him.
As I'm sure as been evident by this post, I'm still a mess. Healing from this relationship is going to take plenty of time and the other circumstances which have surrounded it don't make it any easier. I'm trying not to be bitter and, in some strange way, the fact that I'm done with relationships has helped. I pity my ex as he has many issues (some of which he can help and others not as much) which may prevent him from having the type of relationship he wants. All I know is how thankful I am to be out of the situation.
Friday, January 6, 2012
I could do that... really, I could
That's my most frequent feeling when I read through job postings these days. Because I honestly feel that I would be able to do many of the jobs I see listed. Retail, food service, administrative assistant, secretary, etc. the list could go on. But, I have no proof that I can do any of those things. Looking at my resume, people have no reason to believe I'm capable of much more than teaching working with costumes (and my ability to do one of those is shady at best).
And, what makes it worse, is I feel like I have no direction. This afternoon, it hit me that I have no idea of where I would like to be in 5, 10, 25 years. None. Frankly, what I'd like to be doing is singing, but that's a slow process at best and a pipe dream at worst. Because, again:
You have to have the experience to apply for graduate school and young artist programs.
And how do you get that experience outside of graduate school or young artist programs?!
Yet another vicious cycle.
No one wants you unless you've got the experience.
And how do you get the experience without a job?!
It's a vicious cycle.
And how do you get the experience without a job?!
It's a vicious cycle.
And, what makes it worse, is I feel like I have no direction. This afternoon, it hit me that I have no idea of where I would like to be in 5, 10, 25 years. None. Frankly, what I'd like to be doing is singing, but that's a slow process at best and a pipe dream at worst. Because, again:
You have to have the experience to apply for graduate school and young artist programs.
And how do you get that experience outside of graduate school or young artist programs?!
Yet another vicious cycle.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Happy New Year?
I'd love to think that 2012 will be better than 2011. I wish I could believe it. That there would be fewer
- friends stabbing me in the back
- unwanted moves
- full-time jobs lost
- problems finding a car
- toxic relationships
- persons in positions of authority randomly going crazy
- weeks of work lost due to illness
- work (hard since I've got nothing at the moment)
- living situation (although, I'm already at my parents' so it's hard to get worse unless I was actually homeless -- unlike "technically" homeless which I was last month)
- health (that was the "lightest" of my problems last year... "just" bronchitis which lasted a month, kept me out of work for two weeks, and left a cough which still lingers)
- friends (not something I like, but it is almost a relief when people show their true selves... the effects can be particularly unpleasant, however)
but there's no way of telling which of these (or something completely different) it will be.
I'm so sick of the "things will get better... this is just Calvary before Easter... blah blah blah..." crap that I've been getting from people (add 25 fail points if the person that says it contributes/has contributed to the disaster). Frankly, it's trite and makes me want to vomit: particularly when it's from people who aren't dealing with their whole life falling apart around them.
No, this is not a particularly positive way to start the new year. At least, hopefully, by expecting the worst, there's always a possibility that I will be pleasantly surprised. Right?
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Four weeks in and all is well
Happy Fourth Week of Advent! While that is enough to celebrate in and of itself (well, mostly because it means Christmas is nearly here), this year there is extra reason to rejoice (ok, maybe this would have been more appropriate last Sunday... lol). Today marks the fourth Sunday that the new translation of the Roman Missal has been used throughout the English-speaking Catholic world.
I have been excited about the new translation for over a year and a half after attending a workshop for musicians. As someone who has studied Latin (not that much, but enough to know the Mass parts) and also knows the Mass in Hungarian along with understanding enough Spanish, French, Italian, and German to follow along some what, it was easy to see how great of a gift these translations would be for our Church. Compared to the languages listed, the English one was hardly an accurate translation of the Latin. "And also with you" does not translate to "Et cum spiritu tuo" like "Es a te lelkeddel" or "Und mit deinem Geiste" or "E con il tuo spirito." Conversely, "And with your spirit" as in the new translation is a perfect fit. I don't know a word of Tagalog but just looking at the text for the Confiteor shows that "sa aking salà, sa aking
salà, sa aking pinakamalakíng salà" shows that "through my fault" is repeated thrice and with an additional word the third time. (All of the translations, except the Hungarian, are from "The Traveler's Mass" page on http://www.angilella.it/missa/ )
Another big advantage with the revised translation is the uniformity throughout the English speaking Catholic world. In the past, there have been different translations (albeit with only small differences, but differences nonetheless) in different countries. This became interesting with a group of Catholics from different English speaking countries like the English Mass community that I was part of in Hungary. The new translation solves that problem.
I know that many people were unhappy about the revision. The use of more sacramental vocabulary was off-putting to those who want the Mass to be as common as possible. They argued that it was foolish to "go back 40 years" and have to relearn something "so ingrained." "Bah Humbug!" say I! The Mass is not something common. It is a miracle. An amazing gift that we could never fully comprehend. So why should the language used be anything less? And as for relearning... go to daily Mass for a few weeks. I can't guarantee that you'll get it perfect right away but the extra grace will benefit you in more than just remembering to say "and with your spirit!"
Finally, a very clever parody as to why this is such a good thing. Just like sacramental language sounds funny in this setting, so is "kitchen English" ridiculous for the most sacred ritual on Earth. I doubled over laughing as I read this out loud to my family after a friend posted it on facebook.
(http://www.commonwealmagazine.org/blog/?p=16347 although, many of the people who commented didn't seem to realize that to make something worth parodying it has to be good. They seem to think that this is an example of why the translation isn't wonderful... silly people.)
I have been excited about the new translation for over a year and a half after attending a workshop for musicians. As someone who has studied Latin (not that much, but enough to know the Mass parts) and also knows the Mass in Hungarian along with understanding enough Spanish, French, Italian, and German to follow along some what, it was easy to see how great of a gift these translations would be for our Church. Compared to the languages listed, the English one was hardly an accurate translation of the Latin. "And also with you" does not translate to "Et cum spiritu tuo" like "Es a te lelkeddel" or "Und mit deinem Geiste" or "E con il tuo spirito." Conversely, "And with your spirit" as in the new translation is a perfect fit. I don't know a word of Tagalog but just looking at the text for the Confiteor shows that "sa aking salà, sa aking
salà, sa aking pinakamalakíng salà" shows that "through my fault" is repeated thrice and with an additional word the third time. (All of the translations, except the Hungarian, are from "The Traveler's Mass" page on http://www.angilella.it/missa/ )
Another big advantage with the revised translation is the uniformity throughout the English speaking Catholic world. In the past, there have been different translations (albeit with only small differences, but differences nonetheless) in different countries. This became interesting with a group of Catholics from different English speaking countries like the English Mass community that I was part of in Hungary. The new translation solves that problem.
I know that many people were unhappy about the revision. The use of more sacramental vocabulary was off-putting to those who want the Mass to be as common as possible. They argued that it was foolish to "go back 40 years" and have to relearn something "so ingrained." "Bah Humbug!" say I! The Mass is not something common. It is a miracle. An amazing gift that we could never fully comprehend. So why should the language used be anything less? And as for relearning... go to daily Mass for a few weeks. I can't guarantee that you'll get it perfect right away but the extra grace will benefit you in more than just remembering to say "and with your spirit!"
Finally, a very clever parody as to why this is such a good thing. Just like sacramental language sounds funny in this setting, so is "kitchen English" ridiculous for the most sacred ritual on Earth. I doubled over laughing as I read this out loud to my family after a friend posted it on facebook.
(http://www.commonwealmagazine.org/blog/?p=16347 although, many of the people who commented didn't seem to realize that to make something worth parodying it has to be good. They seem to think that this is an example of why the translation isn't wonderful... silly people.)
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