Facebook. It's fun, it's quick, and it's convenient for keeping in touch. But oh so shallow. The more I delve and get sucked into it, the more it hurts to see parts of people's lives that I never got to share with them. And then something akin to loneliness gnaws at my heart.

But only for a couple seconds. Too busy with packing up to move out of the house by next week. It's been an adventure, to say the least. I've learned a lot about purchasing things for a home, how easy it is to accumulate junk, how much work and financial losses are involved in selling what was accumulated, and how humbling it is to realize what isn't needed or is important. For a while, I was on a materialistic rampage, only to realize that "Gosh, we won't have space to keep the stuff!" And then Al and I discuss and evaluate what to keep and what to let go. At first, we wanted to keep as much as possible, even possible rent a house instead of an apt for the sake of keeping everything. Then we considered a condo. Then a multi-bedroom apt. Then a 1-bedroom apt. And... it's weird to realize that a 1-br will meet all of our needs. It was interesting to see how dogs change everything: dog rent, grass availability, how far the apt is from the dog's bathroom (grass), surrounding areas being walkable (or dangerous highways dogs might get injured on)... but I digress. Now that we know we're going down to a small apt, there's a need to sell off whatever furniture we have. And Al and I keep revisiting, "What can we sell? What can we keep?" and in the end, we have our hearts set on a mattress and a couple paintings that I'll never let go, because Q-Tip and Charmin are subtly camouflaged in the painting.

It's been a whirlwind marathon. Still more to survive, between our board exams, selling off the house and furniture (>100 items/sets), finding places to live, changing addresses and phone numbers and changing bills, job hunting, job negotiations, and after all... it'll just be nice to breathe. I'm really looking forward to taking a break come July, but if I get a certain job and start immediately, then I'm not sure I'll get that break. But I won't- I CAN'T complain, because everything so far has been so much more than I dared to hope for.

Matthew 6
25"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life[b]?
28"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' 32For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

And when I take a moment to look up from my hectic schedule, I look up and my eyes are clouded. When there's a twinge at my heartstrings, I look around and wonder what everyone else is up to. So I turn to Facebook. And get swept away for hours on end laughing at so many funny things, tearing up on the precious things people share (photos, videos, news), and wonder WHY THE HECK DO I HAVE TO WADE THROUGH SEAS OF CRAPPY WALL-POSTS AND LAME PICTURES OF THE SAME STUPID POSES TO FIND THE GOOD STUFF???

At first, it was too much fun getting back in touch with blasts from the past. Old students, high school friends, college friends, pastors, relatives, etc. But the people who I really want to keep up with how they're doing... don't post that kind of stuff on FB. As Jerry put it, "Whatever happened to just talking over a beer?" Not that I care for beers or bars, but the principle is there - whatever happened to quality bonding/catch-up time?

Justin's recent sermon opened with studies on Facebook, how Facebook affects GPA and how Facebook can decrease one's compassion. I think it's true, that being overloaded with inane facts about people's lives desensitizes others to the important facts. I really don't care about who's brushing their teeth, or who's cute in whatever picture. I want to know how you're doing, how you're developing as a decent human being, what makes you stop and think and reflect. I want to revive the part of me that actually cares about how you're doing, how you're really doing.

But that means I have to call you, and you know how often that happens. =( I hate this part of me, the part that utterly sucks at keeping in touch. Yes yes, I know that life comes at you fast, and that I'm insanely busy, but still. I don't want to make excuses. I'm somehow wired to be a GREAT friend if you're within a certain proximity. Outside of that, it's a huge struggle.

Uh... why is my eye twitching? Is it that late? ~realization~ UGH. Good night!

Every time I meet a pharmacy student that loves technology, it's like finding a diamond in the rough.  I just love telling them about informatics and how awesome it is.  There's something so gratifying to find someone you're looking for, who didn't know how to look for you, and to know that just 1 meeting with this person will change the course of their career and the world of healthcare and technology forever.

It's similar to the feeling I had when I first saw Al on our first date.  When Al walked in and sat next to me, I reached out, wrapped my arms around his neck and said, "At last... at last."  Nothing will ever be the same again, and you know the world's becoming a better place, because we found each other.

P.S.  I didn't take the job.  Now I just whimper when I think about it.  Thanks for everyone's input!

NO NO, not Al… it’s me.  And get your mind out of the gutter - I'm not talking about that kind of impotence.  I feel like I’ve failed Al as a wife.  He asked me to buy a loaf of bread, and I didn’t.  He almost never asks me to do any errands, and this ONE time he asks, I failed to deliver.  Because I was reading manga.  It’s so stupid how one trivial task becomes a parasite that invades and devours you from the inside out.  A measly… loaf… of… bread.  Of course, if you ask Al, he thinks nothing of this, especially since it was just so he’d have carbs to munch on with his soup.  I whipped out a box of saltines; problem solved.  But the parasite of doubt and self-loathing still lives on, as all my shortcomings as a wife unfold before my eyes.

 

I have not…

• prepared a single meal for him to take to work during his nightfloat
• cooked for him in maybe a year
• cleaned the house in forever
• paid the bills yesterday like I said I would
• finished updating my resume & job hunt
• picked up the nasty nasty monster bugs I keep killing with Raid (they’re frickin’ HUGE, like flying daddy-long-legs; tiny body with lonnng appendages).  I spray ‘em and cry and wait for Al to come home and rescue me.
• walked the dogs regularly
• attended nor called in sick for kickboxing class on Sat
• etc.

I’m greedy, lazy, sloppy, anal, demanding, unrealistic, fussy, unhealthy, strict, and downright crazy.  For the most part, these traits magically meld together to make our marriage entertaining, like a manga story where I’m the loser heroine who miraculously lands and amuses an adorable, patient husband, and now she starts to develop all these complexes of inferiority.  Maybe this really started to manifest when I was gabbing with Al’s aunt, raving about how awesome Al is and how much he does around the house:  dishes, lawn care, walks dogs, taxes, etc.  She asked, “So what do you do?”  ~ paralyzed silence ~ “Uh… I do laundry, pay bills, uh… grocery shopping, scheduling appointments and vacations, uh….”  After a question like that, well of COURSE I want to prove to her that I’m a good wife and that I’m treating Al well, like he deserves.  Well… am I?    (>_<);;

 

There’s something about being with Al that forces me to be so painfully honest with myself.  Upon honest introspection, all the greediness comes spilling out.  I LIKE having a trophy husband.  It wasn’t what I was originally looking for, but it sure is nice to have one.  I WANT people to “ooh” and “ah” over him.  I also want people to consider me a trophy wife.  If we walk into a room and people are intimidated, I enjoy it in some sort of weird, twisted sort of way.  But that’s just image.  Image is hypocrisy, if there’s no integrity to back it up.  And the reality is this:  I’m a lazy, greedy woman who farts and picks her nose in her sleep, who hates doing dishes, lawnwork, vacuuming, and so much more.  I do try to work hard, and nothing ever seems like it’s enough.  Probably ‘cause I’m just so foolishly heads-over-heels in love with Al.  I don’t want to drag him down from being any less of a great man.  I don’t want him to slow down to go at my lazy pace.  I’m scared that someday… someday he’ll wake up and wonder why he married me.  The logical part of my brain knows he loves me, he’ll always love me, and that’s that.  But the darned woman part of my brain is thinking all the rest of this stuff.  The darned competitive part of me fears that other people wonder why he’s with me, or mutters behind my back that he could do so much better.  And the parasite slowly sucks the life out of me…  Like hell would I ever roll-over and let that happen without a fight.  This world is not kind, so I expect no freebies in life.  SEIZE LIFE BY THE HORNS!  The only footholds you get in life are the ones you carve yourself!  The only way to stop people from thinking these things is to never give them a chance to think it to begin with!  I must become more successful, wealthy, clever, hard-working, healthier, patient, and more!  I must be more!  Better looks!  Better clothes!  Better hair!  Better reputation!  And I try to run at the speed of light.

 

Then Al just looks at me from the couch and asks, “Are you ok?  Why don’t you just sit down and watch Terminator:  Sarah Conner Chronicles with me?”  Even the dogs look at me like, “Mommy, what are you doing?  Come chill with us…”  ~ Liz helplessly slumping down wall ~

 

The realization sinks in.  It’s not about fulfilling what other people wants or opinions.  It’s Al that matters, not anybody else.  He doesn’t care how much I prove myself.  He doesn’t want me to run at the speed of light, or be devoured by parasites of doubt and self-loathing.  He just wants me to be by his side.  And as always, I realize, gee, God’s probably the same way.  I try so hard to be a “good Christian” that I end up trying to do so much stuff that I end up missing just being with God.  There’s something so weirdly gratifying about criticizing and justifying your self-worth on your own power, rather than accepting the acceptance others freely give you.  I wonder if Martha felt like this.  I can see how she got so frustrated with Mary.  Arrrrgh…

 

Anyways, for those of you Al-fans who blame me for the death of his Xanga, Al also has similar struggles.  He sees me struggle and spiral into a vortex of self-loathing, and then he feels somewhat responsible, that he’s lacking the good-husband department.  Then I hug him and he falls asleep in my arms, which drives me nuts.  He insists, “But it’s soooooo comfortable and relaxing!  I can’t help it…” as he starts to drool.  Then he completely forgets to blog altogether.  So yes, I guess I am responsible for the death of his Xanga.  Sorry… so as a reward for reading this long blog, here’s another Al-moment:

 

Kickboxing tangent:  I joined a kickboxing Muay Thai class a little more than a month ago.  It’s not the frilly cardio-kickboxing-wanna-be crap, it’s the real thing where you really learn how to fight.  And it’s ridiculously expensive.  But it’s an amazing workout.  Al took some Wing Chun in the past, so he keeps hopping around and challenging me to a Wing Chun vs Muay Thai competition.  We spar a little.  Isn’t it… romantic?  Gimme a year and then we'll have a real sparring match!  I started to show Al some of our training workouts, and in less than 5 minutes he was sweating.  In 15 minutes he was having a blast.  In 30 min, he was horrified and cried out, “This is like a reverse mugging!!!!  You pay them first, and then they beat you up!!!”