I am surfing the web to surf some foreign couch via the freeloader’s delight website known as www.couchsurfing.com. A pretty cool gig actually, and the people that my roommie Bridget has had usurping her couch space have always been groovy to the max. Here’s the real problem, and it’s a mathmatical one so get your thinking caps on (you can also feel free to use a graphing calculator for those who are trying to get their money’s worth from Geometry class).  Here goes: I leave the first of October. It is now the twenty fifth of September.  I don’t at present have any confirmations for sleepovers in foreign cities. Therefore, I am .  . . ???

Yes, it’s a word problem but I will use the numerical equivalents if that will help.

1 Oct – 25 Sept = 5 days

5 days + 0 leads for accomodation = :(

I’ve sent out two emails.

I know it’s easy to get discouraged when nothing seems to be happening, and even moreso when you really haven’t put forth enough effort to deserve things going your way. I am a procrastinator, I won’t lie. But, in my (weak) defense, I will say that part of the reason that it’s taken me so long to get on the ball is that I’m pretty sure the people that I would want to stay with (i.e. quadroplegic investment bankers with locks on the door who have no reason to or ability to follow through with stabbing me in the middle of the night) are totally not the people that Kristen wants to stay with (as in, hip young cool kids that like to listen to live music and raise a few).  What to do, what to do . . .

At this point, the answer has become: get in wherever you can. Wish me luck. And perhaps if I’m fortunate on a more grand scale, all this impassioned desperation will make me more prolific in the future. (Sorry for being somewhat AWOL of late . . . )

So it seems that I’m the only one of my friends who’s single these days. What is it about this stupid season? All that crap about birds and bees and flower blossoms is apparently at least somewhat true. No wonder Ricki Lake was able to have all those shows about Summer Fling Reunions. No wonder the VD clinics get such a boost at this time of year.

Not that I envy Ricki Lake guests or clinic patients . . .

Anyhow, the truth of the matter is that this is all a hopeless, hopeless case. That’s the real disappointment. As I was telling my brother when I was going through the submissions on an online dating site I was a fool to let my ex set me up with: all I want is a gigantic Christian. Is that so much to ask? Apparently. All the giant people aren’t down with Jesus and all the Christian boys are small. Who knew fulfilling two characteristics would be such a big freaking deal? Well, even if not a big freaking deal then at least seemingly impossible.

Sigh.

The trouble is what the trouble always is, and it’s that I want something specific. I can’t be satisfied to take up with just anyone anymore. It’s the worst possible idea to take a time when the sources are drying up and become even more picky than you’ve ever been before. But that’s the way of it. Especially when you’ve decided to quit trying to run your own life and instead look to what the Lord wants more than what you do. Because what hope do you have if you don’t?

What I am inclined to is usually not at all what I need. I’m headstrong. I’m distracted and misguided. I get bored with being on my own sometimes. And then I watch the scourge of the screen, Anne of Green Gables, and it’s enough to make me want to mope till the morning light. Still, it’s better for this kind of mood than Persuasion. What I don’t understand is . . . why I should even care. This isn’t the time, right? If it were, wouldn’t it just happen?

We should pray in faith. But what to do if what you have faith in isn’t panning out? Do you continue to lament to the Lord of hosts that you don’t have what you’re pretty sure you should? Like this:

Me: “God, I want this.”

God: “Not right now.”

Me: “Maybe I forgot to mention it, but I want this.”

God: “That’s not what I have for you at the moment.”

Me: “Ok, uhh, maybe I didn’t make myself clear: This is what I want!”

God: “What are you? Daft?! You can’t have IT!”

Embarassingly enough, this scenario has played out more often than I care to admit.

The truth of the matter is that this is another of those little things. This is the little thing that nags until it seems much bigger than it is. I’m not saying I’m one of those desperately lonely spinter ladies who just sit around sighing for a man-friend. That’s not really it. There were and will be and for all I know, are, possible man-friends around. But how to find the right one? When your ideas seem so specific?

It is enough to be with myself. Really, it is. And perhaps still my wounds are mending and my heart is getting itself back in working order. Maybe it’s just not the moment. I can’t deny that there have been tragedies. There have been heavy blows. There have been aches brought to me that still twist sometimes when I least expect it. There are still moments when what has transpired in and of itself seems like far too much. And perhaps even now being in relationship with another person could be too much of a burden or too much of a crutch. I can’t say. And I must admit also that I don’t want to say it. It seems all so silly. But it is what I’m feeling in this single moment.

I could do it right this time. I’ve been taught how. Only now there is no one else on the other side of the plus sign.

Yes, I feel that way.

But maybe it doesn’t matter so much how I feel. Maybe feelings are little more than a garnish for a plate. Maybe there’s nothing substantive about what I’m saying.

Who wants me to ad-nauseum them with some anti-porn rhetoric? Who wants me to get into the murky waters of domestic violence? Who wants a good old fashioned railing against modern socialization and how it injures everyone it touches?

Who wants to hear how one should invest in the spirit instead of the body, because one of them is surely going to fall apart one day? Who wants to be preached at by someone who has made every mistake in the Book but has been blessed enough to be granted wisdom of how to learn from her mistakes? Who wants me to relate the depth of pain that sin will take you to?

Who wants to know what it was like to watch someone die? Who wants to feel from a mother’s perspective what it is to offer your child to someone else to raise and know that each day that passes takes her farther from her and deeper into a new life of which she isn’t a part? Who wants to listen to someone bemoan about losing out on someone she wanted, in whatever capacity?

Anyone?

Anyone???

If you happen to be unfamiliar with the term “to winge”, let me please explain. To winge is to whine excessively, to become so frustrated with one’s circumstances that one is paralysed from the top lip up and the bottom lip down. To winge is to make a thorough annoyance of oneself based on consistent and usually ridiculous complaints issuing forth from one’s mouth, preferably with an alternating, but always very high, pitch. To winge is to take a long hard look at the cruel world you live in, stick out your tongue, and call it a meanie face. To plant your feet firmly on the ground, cross your arms, and pout like a three year old.

It is this practice that I would like to demonstrate for you now.

(more…)