Accountability.

For the record, I am not a very direct person. Which is a bad quality of mine. But hey, we all have them, right? But I’m going to try to be direct for now. Because I have to.

What I need is accountability. I really and truly need it. Hardcore. For about 50 different things.

I need accountability in the world Bible study and quiet time. Someone to ask me daily what I read about and what I got out of it.

I need accountability in terms of school work, I’ve been pretty good thus far. But still. Study with me. Make me study. Make sure I’m going to class.

I need accountability in my food habits. Remind me what is healthy and what is not and how much is okay to eat and remind me to every now and then. I also need accountability with exercising. I haven’t run in forever.

I NEED ACCOUNTABILITY IN MY WRITING. I need to write a book. Make me write one. Remind me to write. Read my stuff, make me let you read my stuff, and tell me to freaking carry on or I will never do it. And I want to. I do. My English teacher said something today like, “Nothing’s going to get written by you staring at a blank word document. You’ve got to get the physical act of writing out before anything will happen.” And gosh, not like this is big news. But it hit me, because I stare at blank word documents all the time. But please, please, make me write. If I haven’t blogged in forever, tell me I haven’t and that I need to. Tell me to write. Motivate me. Remind me that I have potential as a writer. Something. Because I forget, and I beat myself up, and I don’t blog, and I haven’t written anything besides blogs and papers in months. So hold me accountable if you like me or my writing at all. Make me make it happen.

It would be nice if I was just a driven enough person that I didn’t need people to hold me accountable. But I tend to be lazy, so help. Please. You will be rewarded with baked goods and/or my undying friendship, which is priceless, eh?

Again I am reminded just how small and broken and worthless I am without God’s daily presence in my life. I makebelieve and pretend that I can do without him for a while, and do stuff on my own. I can’t. I really can’t.

My writing suffers without him. The two don’t seem like they relate, but they totally do. I don’t have to be writing about anything religious. I can be writing about my day, or a short story idea, or a letter to a friend, or an essay, and they all just suck. When me and Jesus are on good terms, my writing rocks. I think.

This should be some kind of motivation to get my prayer life in line and mend our relationship as best I can manage. Not solely because it will help my writing, but because everything kindof goes to the pits when I don’t try. Things look glum, and I cuss more, and I don’t feel good.

I get reminded of how things can be better when I turn my attention to others who are on track and loving the Lord. All it takes is someone to quote a verse to me and I’m like crap. That’s what’s wrong. I haven’t touched my Bible in X days. I should get on that.

Do I?

No.

Why?

Because I’m frustrated.

Why?

I don’t know.

*sighs* Get it together Caitlin.

I know that he has great things in store for me if I’d just start talking to him again. I don’t know how to right now. I’m angry and confused and I don’t understand why things are the way they are. I need help and prayers if you’re willing to send them my way.

So I’m in College Now…

I only had two classes today, Biology and Art, but that is because my Biology class is two hours and forty minutes. Yes, you’ve seen that correctly. It’s only that long on Wednesdays, Mondays are labs. But still. Two hours and forty minutes of my very least favorite subject ever in the history of learning ever. On the plus side, I learned all of the stuff it said we were studying this semester in the 7th grade. I’m hoping for an A. We’ll see. And art, well I love art. And the teacher is pretty snazzy.

But let me just say, that what could go wrong on my first day of school, did.

1. Traffic. Traffic everywhere.
2. Hit a cat.
3. Cried over dead cat in the car.
4. No parking spots, already 5 minutes late. See #1.
5. Parked a mile away. 12 minutes late. See #1 again.
6. Cue panic attack.
7. Hiked across campus, made it in alive (Unlike Mr. Whiskers) approximately 22 minutes after class started.
8. Had to embarrassingly ask for the roll sheet in front of the whole class.
9. Got the roll sheet, cue realization of not having a pen or pencil. Or anything to write with for that matter.
10. Embarrassing question number two to girl behind me. Can I borrow your pen?
11. The pen was neon green ink.
12. Cue teacher’s frustration with “my” pen color choice.
13. Class out, I have an hour and fifteen minutes until art.
14. I’ll go to Starbuck’s to pass time! I’m going through the drive through.
15. I get up to the window.
16. No wallet. WHAT THE HECK.
17. Starbuck’s barista recognized me by name, and said it was on the house. Kind of lucky, mostly embarrassing because they know my name.
18. Go home to fetch wallet and writing utensils.
19. Park even further away than before.
20. Guy in parking lot gives me a free pen, making my trip home pretty pointless.
21. 2 minutes late to Art.
22. Don’t care at this point.

So while it was a painful first day, it is over. Praise him. So I’m in college now…. What?

What God is Not.

God is not rules and regulations. He is not boundaries and limitations. God is not these things, and it is infuriating when I hear people talk about these things that God is not.

God is not politics and he does not know race. He does not judge. Not while we’re here. One day he will judge, but even then, it’s not about the minute sins you’ve committed, it is judgment based on whether you know him or not. The end. He doesn’t care if you smoked a blunt once or a thousand times. God is not waiting to strike you down. He does not care if you shoplifted or skipped school or lied or cheated. He cares if you know him.

God is not religion. He is not Baptist or Methodist or Presbyterian or Catholic. He’s not a strand or a branch off of the only truth he gave us – the Bible. God is so much more than church and Bible study and theology and blessing food before you eat it.

God is life. He is love. In the truest and purest form. And I genuinely believe that the only way you will love is if you find his love.  The trick is that you really won’t want to do those sucky things that you thought would send you to hell anymore. You’ll still do them, sure. But you’ll do them less. And you won’t feel a need to. Want, yes. Need, no.

I believe strongly in conviction tonight. Having your flaws and wrongdoings pointed out is really awful and painful. I do think that if you look at it with the right mindset, like constructive criticism, it can help. And you can move forward. And you will be so much closer to that happy you that you want to be. Conviction works. We are called to conviction.

I am telling you that God is not what you think he is. Find out. I’m begging you. Let him show himself to you. He is more.

Hands

Hands
build.
They
create.
They
paint,
and they
design.
Hands
mold
and
make things.
They
are magical.
They
cradle babies
but also
hammer nails.
Hands
are
diverse.
They
touch
and
feel.
They
tell you
what exactly
is
going on
around
you.
Hands
are
helpful.
The wrinkles
and callouses
are beautiful.
Not
ugly.
They
define
and
tell
stories
of you
and
your life.
But
hands
are
also
flawed.
Hands
break
and they
destroy.
They
beat
and they
restrain.
Hands
are
responsible
for hurt.
Hands
are
dangerous.
They
can
be
the
enemy.
If
you
let
them.

Dreamland

I dreamed about you again last night. First you were crying, telling me how you’d wrecked your life and your family’s life… And then you realized you were talking to me, and you shut up real fast when I acted interested. I pulled out my phone and texted you “I miss you” even though you were standing right next to me. You looked at it and laughed, then told me I was stupid. I said I know I am. And you laughed again. Then I was furious, so so furious, I lunged at you and tried to punch you repeatedly, screaming and yelling, telling you how much damage you’ve caused. Asking you why. But my fists couldn’t reach you, it was like there was a force field around you, and I kept missing. Like we were magnets of the same pole. I’d go for your left cheek, and my fist would get about a centimeter away from you before it swerved around your head and hit nothing but air. Same thing when I went for your gut, a miss. Always a miss. It was frustrating, beyond frustrating. And I kept trying, and you kept laughing. I grew tired and I sat down, exhausted. And I didn’t know what to do. And then your foot collided with my head, and I woke up.

It’s really a very good analogy of us.

But I hate dreaming about you. So much. I’ve tried to bury and burn every memory of you and trace of you that I have. But I can’t stop the dreams. My subconscious sucks.

Panic Attack

I’m currently having a panic attack, in case you were wondering. Every couple of days I have one of these because I am so stressed out about my future.

“I’m going to be an English major. I’m going to write books. That’s not smart. I’ll start off as an English teacher, and write books until I make enough money to fully support myself on that. Wait. That’s not smart. English teachers don’t make enough money. Okay, I’ll get my masters in English. That’s a lot of school. A lot of school costs a lot of money. There aren’t many jobs in the liberal arts… Maybe I should consider a different major. I’m good at math. Maybe I should be an engineer. No. I’d hate that. An accountant? Should I work for the IRS? No, I don’t want to be a Zacchaeus. People hate the IRS. I’d have no friends. Oh wait. I don’t have any friends now. I’ll make friends at school. Maybe. Hopefully. Shit, what school am I going to go to? I should go to one that’s the best for my major. No, no, no. Smart schools don’t have good football teams. I want to go to a football school. I could go to Auburn… But I don’t really want to stay in state. I want to drive around with my Alabama tag in a not-Alabama state. That’s dumb. Why should that matter? Whatever. I could go to UGA… That’s a great football school. It’s also a party school… I don’t party. Hm. Well hey, I could always go to Georgia Tech. My whole family’s gone there. I am good at math. Georgia Tech doesn’t really have anything great besides engineering to offer… But I’d like to live in Atlanta. And it’s a football school. Maybe I could cheer again. Maybe I could be a Georgia Tech cheerleader. That would be really cool. No. No No. If I cheered, I’d never get any work done. I’d be too busy. Then I’d fail out. Crap. I’m not smart enough for Georgia Tech. So what if I went to Auburn… But Auburn’s colors are blue… I really don’t want to wear any more blue or orange or red… Hey, what about Tennessee? Tennessee’s colors are orange… Crap. Double crap. What do I do? I guess colors don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things… You know. It’s the education that counts. Am I smart enough for college? What if I graduate, and then I can’t get a job, because I’m stupid? And I can’t write a book, because I didn’t major in English? And I don’t get married, because let’s be real. Who wants to marry me? Then I’d just be… Right where I am now. Maybe I’ll work at Marco’s forever. I DON’T WANT TO BE STUPID!” *dramatic sigh* *slams head into wall*

And there you have it. It can be counted on that I will have this thought process at least once a week. I need a life. And friends. A support system. Seriously.

Keep On Swinging.

A lot of people keep on asking me how I am, or how my heart is, or what I’m learning from God and the Bible this week. Let me answer these questions for you:

Crappy.

Really crappy.

Absolutely nothing.

I feel like I am in a boxing ring with God. Only he’s the three time world champion, and I’m, well, me. He doesn’t even have to try to beat me. I am furious and swinging and yelling and demanding to know things. And all the while, he’s standing there yawning while I frenziedly attack him. He doesn’t move or sway or get offended, and he doesn’t fight back, he just stands there.

“Daughter, stop fighting, talk to me.” I can hear this said to me clear as day. But I’m angry. I’m so furious.

I don’t want to stop fighting. Which is stupid. I am up in arms ready to take him down and get all of my answers and force him to fix everything, but we all know this is not going to happen. He’s sovereign or something like that, which sucks when you desperately want to control everything around you.

I’ve never understood people being angry with God. I’d never been angry with him till now. Nothing really happened. I’m just so furious. I suppose because I’m not in control and I won’t ever be.

I need to talk with him and get closer and work on this, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to do it. I just keep on swinging.

Help me.