Stuff I am Thinking.

Sometimes I think maybe I am just looking at the lint in my own belly button and this is all just a waste of time and energy, and then I think about someone who said if you want to know God, you have to get to know yourself, or something like that. Which makes me think maybe this will all be worth it someday.
I am, slowly, becoming more sane. I am reading this book that takes you back, way back, to all those childhood memories and experiences that formed who you are, memories you thought were nothing but a thing of the past, but really they are why you said A today instead of B, why Bob is your friend instead of Mike (these are just silly names, of course).
Why all the mind mucking goes on and on in your head everyday.
You see, if you remember the cause, then you can know where the weird feelings come from, and it's easier to say, "Get lost."
I am angry at this one gal. I asked Joey what I should do about it because he always gives good advice. He was quiet for a while and then said I should just keep being polite.
I was thinking about writing her an email asking why she's been such a *BLEEP* lately. Or maybe I should facebook her?
Anyhow, I am learning to feel these things. I definitely don't know how to deal with them yet, but I am allowing myself to feel them--anger, for one, and it's quite thrilling. "Be angry, but do not sin". Now that's a mind rocker.
I am learning to set boundaries on idols I've made (Idol numero uno: Mr. Lear. Idol numero dos: never get fat ever ever and ever) and maybe not think about them so much.
When I get stressed I am remembering God is near, even when I don't feel Him anywhere. And then I say, "Where in the blazing are you? This is when you need to show up! Now!" And then I wait and tap my fingers or bite my hangnails and when I still don't feel him, I blame Him when I start to bleed. Sometimes, though, I know He's there and my heart quiets a little bit.
I am thinking about being fearless.
lAtEr...
I am at home. Much saner than usual, especially under the circumstances. I won't go into details because I don't want some gross blogging stocker to know my schedule but I have not seen Mr. Lear in quite some time. At one point we crossed each other at the intersection by our house, and I waved. I could see his outline through his dark tinted windows, his Oakleys jutting out on the sides of his head.
Another thing I am thinking about is women. Not anything gross, sickos. But women, like me and who we are. Why we were made.
Digging down deep in my soul, I have found some surprises there. Weird things I didn't think I thought but really I did, like a tape recorder in my head everyday. Goes a little something like this:
Women are sex objects. Women are evil, and cause otherwise good christian men to sin. Women have no worth apart from men. Women are only to be helpers and don't have the emotional sensibility to stand on their own two feet. Women are emotional basket cases and are to be disregarded.
Yikes. I could keep going but you get the main idea. Where do these ideas come from? I don't really care, all I know is they are dumb.
I take that back. I have my guesses about where and when these ideas surfaced, but it doesn't really matter. What matters is that I have believed them and they are holding me in some serious bondage. Fear.
So maybe I'll scroll back up and read what I wrote yesterday.
lAtEr...
It really pisses me off I can't sing like Kari Jobe. My voice sounds like a dying duck compared to hers. I really am not supposed to be saying mean things like this to myself if I ever want to not be so darn codependent, but it's true. But maybe I could say it to myself in a nicer way, in a nicer tone of voice, something like, "Oh hunny sweetie pie, you may not sound just like Kari Jobe, but who the hell cares?" Also, I like to think that when I am singing my heart out in my bedroom with all the doors and windows closed so no one can hear me, God is looking in, just like when I look at Ethan when he does his singing thing in his bedroom, thinking, man, my kid is so darn cute it busts my heart.
It's a start, at least.