the end

Maintaining a blog was just as difficult as anticipated. I showed no follow through and updated as infrequently as people read it. What I struggled with the most was finding a niche and understanding if that niche was for me or the invisible audience reading my blog. This is why blogs upset me. My journal is for me; I can write narrative some days, sarcasm others and no one bats an eyelash. Whenever I write in this blog, I feel like I am writing for someone else simply due to its publicity. Any inconsistency and I have lost the point of the blog. Also I dislike the word blog. I do not enjoy the cacophony of 'og' words, bog, fog, log, sog-gy. Not to mention it sounds a whole lot like blob, another discordant sound to the ears.

I am sure in months to come I will revisit these digital pages and attempt once more to write. Until I have something constructive to say I will keep my paws off the computer, well the blog stratosphere (the blogosphere). Until then, peace out internets.

all the days ordained for me

So as senior year comes to a close I have found myself struggling with the idea of want or need. I do not think I have wanted anything more in my life than this particular job. I find myself rationalizing that if I get this job, life will turn around and I will feel so much better. The struggle of this year will be washed away in one simple acceptance. I know it is not true. I know that my happily ever after will not manifest through one year but it is so easy wish it would.

I have been taught that wanting something hinders God's dominion in a situation. (I am not talking about wanting the twix bar in the vending machine, or the cute pair of flats you saw in Bloomingdales. Although perhaps I should not diminish these wants to frivolous because everything has influence and impact). Maybe I do not need to work this job, but if I did would I be negatively influencing my life? I would argue this internship, whether painful or a year of glee, would challenge me spiritually, mentally and emotionally (maybe physically, who knows what kind of work-out plan they have). It would provide me with valuable work experience and a community. Now is me wanting this hindering God's dominion? If She has providence, whatever She wants to occur will.

This leads me to a second struggle of mine. God's Plan. If something does not work out, it is all part of God's divine plan. What if you did not work hard enough, you were not qualified, sometimes life just sucks. People mess up, are stupid and flawed; we should take responsibility. I do not think poverty, the HIV/AIDS epidemic, civil rights abuses, or Perez Hilton are part of God's Plan. They are a result of our own injustice and our own inability to act. I do not think we are fated to do anything. God grants us gifts, talents, predispositions, passions, personalities, gender, sexuality, cultures and families; it is through all this that we define ourselves and pursue our lives.

It is too hard for us to define God's will in specific, tangible moments. Humans are too flawed, too wavering and too manipulative to discern literal moments. Do I know if it is God's will for me to do the job or to pursue the Jesuit Volunteer Corps? No. Both are good, both will challenge me and allow me to grow. However, when we are in relationship with God, praying with God, we can understand the will of God in respect to the fruits of the Spirit. I know both will bring goodness, self control, love, kindness, all these. So each decision is good.

So I have basically thrown a thousand thoughts out, all stemming from my desire to work this job  next year. It is something that I want, but does me wanting that hinder God's dominion? Is God's dominion an exact plan or rather the path that I follow when I am in relationship with God? When we know what is good, (and we will only know what is good through prayer and relationship) we will do what is right.

not even close

I am single and incredibly proud of it. I am a quiet independent who is not very vocal in her actions but tends to counter everything that is institutionally placed on her. I have come to understand this as a result of my tendency to question absolutely everything. I will accept nothing for simply as is, which is probably why faith is something I struggle with so consistently (that is for a separate rambling).

Nevertheless, as of late I have been bombarded with the question, "so do you have a boyfriend?" The answer I respond with is a most definitive, "no, not even close". I am not sure why I tag on the "not even close" but most interpret it to mean, single and in need of some loving. But to me, it means single and incredibly content. Do not get me wrong, when I find someone that I want to be with, I will throw my everything into that person and love them forever. But so much of life is driven by finding that person. And for some reason because I am almost twenty-three and single I have arrived at the front door of spinsterhood.

I have noticed within the Christian community a need to marry early. Girls are driven to college so that they may find their soul mate and then if they don't they are hounded with questions as to when they will. I am not sure why the pressure exists, probably the need to procreate and to put to good use the ovaries God has given us. It just amazes me that this is the focus. The idea of a new monasticism is so appealing to me, to a degree. I desperately want a family and children so the idea of celibacy is not exactly what I have pictured for myself. But the devotion that a monk, priest or nun has for God is unmeasured. Such an unwavering dedication to God that She becomes the sole relationship in your life. When a woman is single and unmarried, she seems to be coated in a layer of inadequacy rather than strength, independence and dedication.

I still have crushes; I still daydream about the family that I will have and I will love every moment when I am finally in a relationship with someone. But for now, I am content, supremely content.

Green.

I was walking home from work this evening and everything was so green. Maybe it was the nature of the midnight sky or the fact that I had been staring at a computer screen for hours but green crashed over everything. The grass, the weeds, the trees they were so fabulous. I don't know why but I felt God's love in the green of the grass and trees. It was odd but I just felt so at peace about everything. In the book, The Alchemist, the young boy goes on a journey, a quest for treasure and along the way he is asked to look out for omens - to lead the way. God gives us moments, illogical moments. Maybe these are our omens - glimpses of something tangible in an intangible spirit world.

theme

I follow a few of blogs. Some of friends, actually all are people I know. Some receive high viewership, others are read by about as many as mine: a little more than none. I have noticed that people have themes. A woman, and by woman I mean recent graduate of BC, spoke at this writers retreat I went on, she has a blog called 20-nothings (free publicity). It is a clever discussion of the life of a twenty-something in Manhattan. Several of my friends have blogs from their abroad experiences, others are theological ponderings. As I start to play around with the idea that I could maintain this blog I have considered, do I need a theme?

I am neither smart enough nor funny enough to keep either a consistently humorous or consistently serious series of postings. I have no expertise in anything but shelling out papers and eating large quantities of food. So as I throw this out to the interweb and the no people that are reading this, I offer the truth that my blog will have no theme except for the theme of Hannah. My life is jumbled, my thoughts are jumbled. Sometimes I am funny (maybe, usually just sarcastic) and sometimes I am serious. So take it or leave it, the themeless blog of this most amazing.

shes and hers

I was walking back to my room today, after a rather vigorous work out at the gym. So everything I describe might merely be a sentiment born from endorphins but I think it holds a little more worth than that. As I was approaching my building I saw two parents standing idly outside their car. All of a sudden a girl came running out of my building and jumped into the arms of her parents. She would not let go. It was beautiful. The sun was shining down, it was the first warm day in months, my endorphins were through the roof. I had to hold myself back from joining in the love.

I have been trying to find new representations for my image of God. As I try to understand who is God apart from the gender exclusive term of 'father', it becomes increasingly more difficult. I want to be able to appreciate God fully, both masculine and feminine qualities. In an attempt to make myself aware I have tried using the feminized pronouns of she, her and hers. But I know that God extends beyond the socialized terms that we associate with the masculine or feminine. So what is it that I can use, in this limited world, to represent a God that is so much more than all of that? The image of this girl running into her parents arms seems to serve as some kind of representation, an expression of love that extends beyond father, mother, or friend. It is so hard though because we want to associate God with person, because that is what we know, those are the people we love. For now, in an effort to break my idea of God as strictly father I will continue to imagine her as mother.

I forget how.

I hate that I can be a jackass sometimes. Well not sometimes, all times. I love people. I really do. It is the people in my life that allow me to see God in all things. A touch, a smile, a joke, some sarcastic jaunt at my good looks. All of the above helps me keep going, to know that I mean something to someone. But how do you keep that love going? Relationships get dirtier and dirtier as time passes. The goodness that once initiated your friendship evaporates.

I do not know how to stay in touch with people. The phone is my greatest adversary. Part of me wishes letters were the only way we could communicate, that way no one would expect that much of me. I love to send letters, when I actually remember to send them, well write them. E-mails always seem to be a satisfactory substitute. I mean, yes, I wrote it when I should have been paying attention in class, or while I was watching the season finale of Project Runway but I was still thinking of you when I wrote it, I promise.

I am not much better when I am around the person either. A conversation that extends further than a few sarcastic jabs, a re-telling of last night's Office episode and a detailed examination of what I ate for dinner and what more I could eat, drains me. I have the attention span of a six month old. My husband has it coming. All I want out of my distant, somewhere in the future marriage is someone to watch Tina Fey with and eat chocolate.

I do not know how to give anything back. And if I do, it is unintentional. I want people to know that I love them. I want them to be able to feel my heart so that they know every time I see them, it grows. But there is no physical way for each of my friends to grab my bleeding, pulsating heart every time they see me. Each person is different, each person wants to be loved differently. Some people want me to hold them, to laugh with them, to punch them, to point fingers with them, to call, to text, to write, to listen, to sing, to dance, to sit, to cry with, to just shut up.

I forget how to love sometimes. I never forget to love but I often forget how.