Home of the Brave

It was a year or two ago I wrote in a song, "Bravery is the art of knowing when to say yes/but I never learned the art of saying no/cause the honor of being considered at all/is often enough to make me go..."
Now that idea has surfaced again, but I'm wondering if I was right: what is bravery? Is it the art of knowing when to say yes when it seems impossible, or when to say no, when you know you simply cannot do something? Is that redundant?
I'm starting to think that bravery might be the act of knowing when to say yes, but confidance is the art of knowing when to say no. Its having enough strength in who you are regardless of your actions that the ability to say no is independent of your view of yourself. It is understanding that you are you regardless of what you do. Now I'm rhyming, this is super. And then I got up and watched the rest of ER and totally forgot my train of thought, and thus it will end there.

Not so much Green Beer

So yesterday I said I'd talk about what it means to be successful, and I did actually think about it this morning, but now I'm on a totally different vein all together and may get back to that one sometime in the future. So my friends couldn't get their act together so instead of being in a bar, drinking green beer and singing irish drinking songs like any good Christian girl should be doing on St. Paddy's day, I was left high and dry with Hatch at Burger King in Leesburg. I was in a FOUL mood. So we gave up and went to see the final Lord of the Rings--not because we wanted to (just the opposite) but because we felt that we'd dedicated enough of our lives to the other two movies that we might as well see the trilogy through to the finish. So yeah, went to the final, 47 hour movie that won every oscar known to man (and some that aren't invented yet). I was bored for the most part. Don't like that kinda thing, though Sam is quite a stand up guy. But here's my thought: Gollum is a character that struggles so much with an object that he has attached so much of his identity to--he knows it will kill him to keep it and part of him wants to let it go, but he struggles with being confident that it is worth it. That letting go of something that embedded into a life is worth it, simply for the life that is possible without it. But he never fully lets it go, and thus that desire to live in both worlds (that with the ring and that without it) proves his downfall. Did he genuinely want to see the ring destroyed? Most likely no. But he knew its power, he knew its harm, he had some compassion for Froto because of it.
What in my life is my ring? Too much.
I stumble.

Success-full

So what is success anyway? What is being "successful" in a life? Is it a highly personal status, or is there an actual sign that you have "arrived"? There's been a thought that some women sleep their way to the top--is this always literal, or is there a figurative undertone as well? What do we "sleep with" in order to become successful? Is this always the case? Do we feel successful when we feel 'full', and if that is the case, is it ever possible to be successful when we so often live in a constant search for the suspended gratification that is a life w/o any solid beliefs? Why am I asking so many damn rhetorical questions?
I do not have the energy right now to process this question, only to ask it. Maybe I'll answer it tomorrow...but tomorrow is St. Paddy's day, and if I am 'successful' in my plans, I won't really be in the shape to type. I mean seriously, it's a holiday with green beer. That's just cool, and by cool I mean totally sweet.
Yes I did just mention the need for a solid spiritual relationship and the wonders of green beer in the same blog. So what? If I am a contradiction, then I shall be a strong one...or a successful one at least.

Fig-ure it out...

Today I shall quote shamelessly from Sylvia Plath's opus, The Bell Jar, which I think everyone should read at some point.

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
From every tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a briliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above those figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."
Wow. I read that yesterday and almost cried; I could never articulate it like that but I feel it so!

More Flight than Fight

My posts are reminicent of my life now--not steady or quasi-constant, it bubbles up occasionally, just to prove it still exists. It doesn't have much to say, except to exclaim its presence in some other realm. Well I'm bubbling up again I guess.
Today I'm thinking about commitment, and why it is completely revolting and terrifying to me right now. Like I can't even commit to a real job because I'm that paranoid. It breaks my heart, because it used to be so easy. I remember picking colleges--it was so...so clear where I was to go...I miss that clarity. Does age muddle lines, turn translucent into oblique? Or is it just the process of being burned in some form that causes a heart once willing to embrace to sieze up at the mere mention? When did I stop the fight and just automatically revert to the flight?
Today it really became clear the degree to which my aversion has spread. I had a meeting with the high school WYLD Life leaders this morning at 7am, and I was leading the meeting for some reason, with Erin and Tammi there. I can do the planning fine, but when it comes to building relationships, I attempt to flee at an alarming speed. Erin is pushing me to make up my mind in some way, and I cannot blame her...I just can't do it. Maybe it was the whole presidency thing--that was so much more than I expected, with less support than I had expected. How much more when working with kids!
I can't commit to a single job, so I dabble in multiple fields. I can't commit to a single guy, so I daydream about the unattainable or long-gone. And in so many ways I feel like I can't commit to my faith; at least not to the degree that I see around me. I want my belief and faith to be strong, but every time I get close something occurs that makes me say, "Wait, do I really want that in my life?" Can I really keep my political views and love Jesus? Can I really keep my friends and still be able to lead in some capacity? Why am I so critical of others being "real" when I am clearly not real with them?
Why am I so narcissistic?
There's my bubbling...who knows the next time I'll come up to vent.