Chicago Banana

Personal musings of female residing at times in the greater Chicago area.

Monday, January 08, 2007

Blow Blow thou Winter Wind

It's a line from one of Shakespeare's plays:

Blow Blow thou Winter Wind
Thy tooth is not so keen
Because thou art not seen
And thou thy breath be rude
Hey ho, sing hey ho
Unto the green holly
Most friendship is fading
Most loving folly
So hey ho the holly
This life is most jolly

I miss being in a place where people understand me. And here few do. And I haven't seen them recently. So I've been living in a world of loneliness. I've gotten used to it again. The numbness factor. I can either cry myself to sleep at night or be grateful that my friends aren't around, for I wanted to watch a movie anyway, instead of talking to them. I'm digging myself into the latter again. No wonder I and others feel so close to actors and muscians. They are the ones who are there for us when no one else is. They are the ones who will share their hearts when everyone else stays tight lipped.

I'm scared that I'm going back to a place I thought I escaped from, but coping mechanisms exist for a reason. And I don't know how to fill up this hole except with these legal drugs.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Stand in the Rain...

It's raining outside, and I'm listening to Superchick's "Stand in the Rain." The only thing keeping me from going and doing the action myself is that I already had a shower today, and because it is cold rain, I would only stand out there a few minutes. Besides, it would be consumed by loneliness and self-pity.

I don't post on here much anymore. It is because there is not much I feel the need to share with someone, yet not share with anyone who knows me. But today there is something. I've spoke of the difficulties I had with a roommate last year. This year I moved in with girls from my church, and as a whole it has been incredible. But community incorporates the pain in life as well as the joys, and this evening is painful.

A few minutes ago two of my roommates left for downtown Chicago to celebrate the birthday of one of our friends. I really wanted to celebrate that friend's birthday with her, but I didn't know about this excursion until an hour ago. And it was because I asked where they were going; I wasn't invited.

And that hurts. I know the thoughts in my head saying that no one likes hanging out with me are nothing but lies, but it still hurts. My other roommate works tonight, then has plans to hang out with a coworker who will be leaving soon. I don't fault her; she didn't know about it either. But it is hard to ignore the anger towards the other two. A picture of the four of us sits on a side table, and I turned it over so I won't have to look at during this long lonely night.

Because my emotions hurt, because there is a hole, the temptation is to fill it with a movie. Or an endless stream of songs, such as this one. But I think I will try to do homework instead. Get it done now so I'll be available if something comes up where people do want to hang out with me. The songs may have to be in the background, however. When one is lonely, the sound of rain hitting the pavement only makes one lonelier.

It is moments like this when hope is hardest to hold on to. And when it is most necessary.

Stand in the Rain...

It's raining outside, and I'm listening to Superchick's "Stand in the Rain." The only thing keeping me from going and doing the action myself is that I already had a shower today, and because it is cold rain, I would only stand out there a few minutes. Besides, it would be consumed by loneliness and self-pity.

I don't post on here much anymore. It is because there is not much I feel the need to share with someone, yet not share with anyone who knows me. But today there is something. I've spoke of the difficulties I had with a roommate last year. This year I moved in with girls from my church, and as a whole it has been incredible. But community incorporates the pain in life as well as the joys, and this evening is painful.

A few minutes ago two of my roommates left for downtown Chicago to celebrate the birthday of one of our friends. I really wanted to celebrate that friend's birthday with her, but I didn't know about this excursion until an hour ago. And it was because I asked where they were going; I wasn't invited.

And that hurts. I know the thoughts in my head saying that no one likes hanging out with me are nothing but lies, but it still hurts. My other roommate works tonight, then has plans to hang out with a coworker who will be leaving soon. I don't fault her; she didn't know about it either. But it is hard to ignore the anger towards the other two. A picture of the four of us sits on a side table, and I turned it over so I won't have to look at during this long lonely night.

Because my emotions hurt, because there is a hole, the temptation is to fill it with a movie. Or an endless stream of songs, such as this one. But I think I will try to do homework instead. Get it done now so I'll be available if something comes up where people do want to hang out with me. The songs may have to be in the background, however. When one is lonely, the sound of rain hitting the pavement only makes one lonelier.

It is moments like this when hope is hardest to hold on to. And when it is most necessary.

Friday, May 26, 2006

Financial Catastrophe

Financial catastrophe:

I don't know if it is something even worth being upset about, but I am. To the point that I don't want anyone to know. Except an anonymous blog.

I want to be able to sort through this and for someone to be able to help, but I don't want to journal about it and have to deal with the lies that might pop into my head as I do so. I want someone there to tell me when the thoughts are lies.

But I don't want anyone to know. So I hang my head in shame, averting eyecontact, as I question God.

And maybe its those last four words which make me the most ashamed.

Financial Catastrophe

Financial catastrophe:

I don't know if it is something even worth being upset about, but I am. To the point that I don't want anyone to know. Except an anonymous blog.

I want to be able to sort through this and for someone to be able to help, but I don't want to journal about it and have to deal with the lies that might pop into my head as I do so. I want someone there to tell me when the thoughts are lies.

But I don't want anyone to know. So I hang my head in shame, averting eyecontact, as I question God.

And maybe its those last four words which make me the most ashamed.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Writing to no one

I've lost my readers, haven't I?

Not that that matters, for at peak I think I had three. It is most discouraging to loose Feesh. I only knew her through blogs and to know that all contact is gone is pretty discouraging.

At times like this my default has been, and to a certain extent still is, to wonder what I did to drive them away. Was it something I said?

I'm trying to not automatically assume now that people are mad at me when we lose touch. It is probably healthier this way, but doesn't do much to deaden the pain.

I'm considering writing a book comprised of letters to people who have died. That is the easy part, though, writing to the dead, for I know they won't reject the letter, they won't reply, they won't hate me for it. It is writing to the living that is truly difficult, for they can reject.

Who cares about ghosts, deep down I fear the living more than the dead.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

The desparity of Holy Weekend

I've observed Holy Weekend in a much more significant way this year than I have since entering college. The despairaging thing is exactly how sad this all makes me. Not a visible sadness, but something very prevalent. I can't tell if it is the happiness or the joy that is gone. No, you won't see that if you're around me. I am too happy around people, and I forget how hard this week is. But in these silent moments, alone, this is when I find myself in the state of mourning, wondering if I really understand the joy that will come tomorrow, or have I missed out on that too.

In reality, I'm afraid, afraid that in my heart I don't understand why Jesus had to die, despite the benefit of hindsight and two thousand years of theology to explain to me. Why did he have to die? And how could one man, even a perfect man, atone for all of us?

I worry that I don't understand. I worry that even after tomorrow, I still won't understand.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Crying for Shani

I meant to post this a long time ago, back when the Olympics were still on. But here goes...

The Chicago Tribune had a fair amount of coverage for one of its hometown heros, Shani Davis. One of the articles talked about the antagonism between Davis and Chad Hedrick. Hedrick was mad at Davis for not supporting the team and losing sight of that aspect. Davis' argument was that no one supported him when the going was rough, so now he was just out there for himself.

I identify with Davis a lot. I felt alone and abandoned by my high school cross country and track teams. I'm still not sure how close I feel to my college team. In early March some hard thinking brought me to a place of feeling very, very alone when I was around them.

But God is a God of grace. I'm working to forgive all of these teammates, every single one of them.

Meanwhile, for Shani, I say this. My sophomore year of highschool track I had a huge fight with the coach right before the State meet. We're about the same age, you and I Shani. You're less than a year older than me. I nearly got kicked off the team the night before we left. It was agony. I went to State and I ran my event. Second, I got second, and a PR. Silence from my teammates, silence from my coaches. They saw me as someone who had neglected the team. I won't go into details. Fact of the matter is I did push them aside a little in pursuit of my own goals, with their original approval. When they withdrew that approval, they were all mad.

I don't regret my stance. I had to stand up for myself, not get walked on. But it is a lonely, lonely thing to conquer and have everyone turn their backs. For you, Shani, my heart weeps.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

The Geraniums on my sill

One of my geraniums is blooming.

I don't understand why it does. It lives on a basement sill in the Chicago winter, in a pot much too small for its current height. I water it once a week or so. I never talk to it, or play Mozart. No fertilizer is involved.

And yet is blooming. Five red blossoms doing their best to share beauty with the world, while two buds wait expectantly for their turn.

They overcome such adversity. And yet, they bloom.