I need to:
-Clean my Apartment
-Clean my Classroom & Connected closets
-Write up new Syllabi
-Write lesson plans for first two weeks for all five preps
-Send out christmas gifts(late I know...)
I think thats about it...but I have a sneaking suspicion that I missed somethings.
B
Monday, December 31, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
My Faith Journey ... Conversion story plus.
I don't really remember thinking about God, faith, or religion until I was about seven years old. This is kind of ironic because I went to a Catholic school for kindergarten and first grade. I knew the Our Father and they made us go to Mass. I once came home shortly after starting kindergarten, crossed myself and said "Hey mom! I'm Catholic!" Seems a little like prophecy. My mom gently explained that I wasn't Catholic and I went on my way.
In the second grade I went to California to live with my dad. I went to a school in the basement of the Non-denominational church he went to. One day my dad sat me down in my bedroom and we had a conversation.
Dad: Are you saved?
Second grade me: What do you mean dad?
Dad: Have you invited Jesus Christ into your heart as your Savior?
Me: (thinking. Beat) No.
And then my dad prayed with me. I asked Jesus to come and enter my heart and save me. Looking back, this moment in my memory almost makes me cry. My dad did this because he wanted the best for me. He believed in God and wanted me to give my life to him. It is probably one of my favorite memories of my dad. It was before all of the crap. I digress... So I was saved. I went to church and sang and prayed. I didn't have an understanding of exactly what I was doing but I had a relationship with God. At the end of that year my dad boarded the USS Abraham Lincoln to go to the Persian Gulf and I moved back with my mom.
We moved to Pennsylvania after she got out of the Navy. Mom never really went to church, not weekly anyway. But when we moved to PA I began going to a Methodist church with my grandfather. I started going to Sunday School and singing and praying. I was growing as a Christian. Again, I remember one specific moment with my grandfather. I hadn't been very faithful to the every sunday church trip. In fact it was pretty spotty. Anyway, Saturday night rolls around and I decide I am going to go to church tomorrow. For whatever reason I really wanted to go that Sunday. So I go to bed and wake up the next morning get dressed and put on my Sunday best. I'm combing my hair and I hear my grandfathers Cadillac start up and pull out of the driveway. I run downstairs and out the door, chasing after him on his way to church. I was crushed. I cried. He left without me! My church going was on and off in the next few years.
Meanwhile my dad moved back to Texas after he got out of the Navy. I think it was the summer of my seventh grade year, I went to my dad's for the summer. It was a normal visit. I don't even remember what brought the topic up, I may have asked my dad if we were going to church or something, but my dad and I began to talk about Christianity. My dad dropped a bomb. He did not believe in God. This shook me to the core. This made me cry. I'm not sure why. I don't think I was worried for my father's soul or anything of that sort, but this affected me. He explained that if the Bible is an accurate historical document, then the Bible says that the world was only 6,000 years old, 10,000 tops. Science, he explained, says that the Universe existed for least 4 billion years. I don't remember any of his other refutations of Christianity, but my dad was a confirmed Atheist. I was old enough to recognize that my dad didn't come up with this on his own. He had read it somewhere. So after that conversation I set out to find out about religion.
I read the Bible, about the Bible, about Judaism, about Islam. Over the next few years I fell away from Christianity. I became an Atheist. Not necessarily because of my dad, but partly because it was the 'in thing' with a group of friends and partly because if all of these different groups believed different things but proposed that they were true, then they were all wrong. So I began to read existentialists. I started with Emerson and moved to Thoreau. I read about collective consciousness and other non-theistic philosophies. I wasn't so much an advocate of one idea or another. I just loved to talk about religion and philosophy. I became the devils advocate in every conversation. I liked to question Christians about all of the points that an Atheist would ask.
Then I discovered what it meant to be an Agnostic. That was my new label. It is not possible to know beyond a shadow of doubt that God does exist. I still liked to talk philosophy and religion but I was certain no one could know.
By the time I got to college I began to feel something. It was a sort of uneasiness. I began to feel there was something more. Something tangible, feel-able, even if only internally. I had a friend that year who was a Wiccan. So I began to ask questions. I got into the occult type stuff. I did not wear black or turn into a hippy or anything like that. I began to do some reading about paganism and wicca. It all seemed plausible. Why not? The earth has a living spirit and 'spells' were nothing more than being able to move that spirit to my whims. It wasn't like The Craft or anything like that. It was more subtle. I never did any spells or join any covens and ultimately I dismissed it. It ease my uneasiness.
So I floated spiritually for the next year or so looking for peace. I began taking a class on Buddhism. This I could get into. What could be more peaceful than Buddhism? I read about the different types of Buddhism. I read about the monks. It all made sense to me. I have to say, I never became a monk or began practicing Buddhism with a group, but what I did do did not give me a full sense of peace.
At this point in time, I was dating a girl. She was Catholic. She invited me to Mass. I went. This was a wonderful experience. I wasn't an active participant. I tried to do the calisthenics with everyone else (sit, stand, kneel) and not stand out. After the reading of the Gospel the liturgy of the Eucharist started and I was brought to tears. I didn't understand it. It didn't make sense. Why was I tearing up? It was a good cry, but I held it in it. I didn't want to look weird! I felt at peace. It was wonderful. I didn't share this with my girlfriend. A couple days later at two in the morning I went to the church and just sat in the pew. Just hanging out with God. I decided to give it a chance again. About a month later I called a priest friend and scheduled a meeting. We had a drink and just chatted. I continued to go to Mass every once in a while to fill up on peace when I needed it.
That March the Holy Father's, Pope John Paul II, health seriously declined. I was stuck to the TV for two weeks. First of all, I understood the historical significance of what was happening. We were watching live on CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, what have you, the death of one of the holiest men ever to live. I continued to watch all through the novena and the conclave. It was during this period that I discovered the Rosary. I decided then that I was going to enter RCIA the following fall.
I realize now after reading what is written that I have missed a few major points like the DaVinci Code, my roommate Greg, and Rose's Dad. I'm sure I will come back to those topics in the process of writing in this blog.
I want to end this entry by saying I was nervous about putting most of this down. Most of the people I know from college, whom I would want to read it, don't really know this side of my life. Its not even a side of my life but is my life. My faith is so important to me. But never in my past have I been this into religion as something I am part of. I remember telling one of my college friends that I was going to RCIA, that I was joining the Catholic Church, and he said with moderate disdain, "Why?" Had I been looking into any other religion, Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, no one would've questioned. I don't know. Let it be as it may.
Peace,
B
In the second grade I went to California to live with my dad. I went to a school in the basement of the Non-denominational church he went to. One day my dad sat me down in my bedroom and we had a conversation.
Dad: Are you saved?
Second grade me: What do you mean dad?
Dad: Have you invited Jesus Christ into your heart as your Savior?
Me: (thinking. Beat) No.
And then my dad prayed with me. I asked Jesus to come and enter my heart and save me. Looking back, this moment in my memory almost makes me cry. My dad did this because he wanted the best for me. He believed in God and wanted me to give my life to him. It is probably one of my favorite memories of my dad. It was before all of the crap. I digress... So I was saved. I went to church and sang and prayed. I didn't have an understanding of exactly what I was doing but I had a relationship with God. At the end of that year my dad boarded the USS Abraham Lincoln to go to the Persian Gulf and I moved back with my mom.
We moved to Pennsylvania after she got out of the Navy. Mom never really went to church, not weekly anyway. But when we moved to PA I began going to a Methodist church with my grandfather. I started going to Sunday School and singing and praying. I was growing as a Christian. Again, I remember one specific moment with my grandfather. I hadn't been very faithful to the every sunday church trip. In fact it was pretty spotty. Anyway, Saturday night rolls around and I decide I am going to go to church tomorrow. For whatever reason I really wanted to go that Sunday. So I go to bed and wake up the next morning get dressed and put on my Sunday best. I'm combing my hair and I hear my grandfathers Cadillac start up and pull out of the driveway. I run downstairs and out the door, chasing after him on his way to church. I was crushed. I cried. He left without me! My church going was on and off in the next few years.
Meanwhile my dad moved back to Texas after he got out of the Navy. I think it was the summer of my seventh grade year, I went to my dad's for the summer. It was a normal visit. I don't even remember what brought the topic up, I may have asked my dad if we were going to church or something, but my dad and I began to talk about Christianity. My dad dropped a bomb. He did not believe in God. This shook me to the core. This made me cry. I'm not sure why. I don't think I was worried for my father's soul or anything of that sort, but this affected me. He explained that if the Bible is an accurate historical document, then the Bible says that the world was only 6,000 years old, 10,000 tops. Science, he explained, says that the Universe existed for least 4 billion years. I don't remember any of his other refutations of Christianity, but my dad was a confirmed Atheist. I was old enough to recognize that my dad didn't come up with this on his own. He had read it somewhere. So after that conversation I set out to find out about religion.
I read the Bible, about the Bible, about Judaism, about Islam. Over the next few years I fell away from Christianity. I became an Atheist. Not necessarily because of my dad, but partly because it was the 'in thing' with a group of friends and partly because if all of these different groups believed different things but proposed that they were true, then they were all wrong. So I began to read existentialists. I started with Emerson and moved to Thoreau. I read about collective consciousness and other non-theistic philosophies. I wasn't so much an advocate of one idea or another. I just loved to talk about religion and philosophy. I became the devils advocate in every conversation. I liked to question Christians about all of the points that an Atheist would ask.
Then I discovered what it meant to be an Agnostic. That was my new label. It is not possible to know beyond a shadow of doubt that God does exist. I still liked to talk philosophy and religion but I was certain no one could know.
By the time I got to college I began to feel something. It was a sort of uneasiness. I began to feel there was something more. Something tangible, feel-able, even if only internally. I had a friend that year who was a Wiccan. So I began to ask questions. I got into the occult type stuff. I did not wear black or turn into a hippy or anything like that. I began to do some reading about paganism and wicca. It all seemed plausible. Why not? The earth has a living spirit and 'spells' were nothing more than being able to move that spirit to my whims. It wasn't like The Craft or anything like that. It was more subtle. I never did any spells or join any covens and ultimately I dismissed it. It ease my uneasiness.
So I floated spiritually for the next year or so looking for peace. I began taking a class on Buddhism. This I could get into. What could be more peaceful than Buddhism? I read about the different types of Buddhism. I read about the monks. It all made sense to me. I have to say, I never became a monk or began practicing Buddhism with a group, but what I did do did not give me a full sense of peace.
At this point in time, I was dating a girl. She was Catholic. She invited me to Mass. I went. This was a wonderful experience. I wasn't an active participant. I tried to do the calisthenics with everyone else (sit, stand, kneel) and not stand out. After the reading of the Gospel the liturgy of the Eucharist started and I was brought to tears. I didn't understand it. It didn't make sense. Why was I tearing up? It was a good cry, but I held it in it. I didn't want to look weird! I felt at peace. It was wonderful. I didn't share this with my girlfriend. A couple days later at two in the morning I went to the church and just sat in the pew. Just hanging out with God. I decided to give it a chance again. About a month later I called a priest friend and scheduled a meeting. We had a drink and just chatted. I continued to go to Mass every once in a while to fill up on peace when I needed it.
That March the Holy Father's, Pope John Paul II, health seriously declined. I was stuck to the TV for two weeks. First of all, I understood the historical significance of what was happening. We were watching live on CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, what have you, the death of one of the holiest men ever to live. I continued to watch all through the novena and the conclave. It was during this period that I discovered the Rosary. I decided then that I was going to enter RCIA the following fall.
I realize now after reading what is written that I have missed a few major points like the DaVinci Code, my roommate Greg, and Rose's Dad. I'm sure I will come back to those topics in the process of writing in this blog.
I want to end this entry by saying I was nervous about putting most of this down. Most of the people I know from college, whom I would want to read it, don't really know this side of my life. Its not even a side of my life but is my life. My faith is so important to me. But never in my past have I been this into religion as something I am part of. I remember telling one of my college friends that I was going to RCIA, that I was joining the Catholic Church, and he said with moderate disdain, "Why?" Had I been looking into any other religion, Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, no one would've questioned. I don't know. Let it be as it may.
Peace,
B
About the move to Texas.
I realized last night what makes my situation here in Texas a little lonely. At first I thought it was a lack of 'true' friends. Now I realize it is a lack of friends that I can call up and say "Hey, where are you? ... Wanna hang out?" and then just sit around and shoot the breeze. I mean, I have friends. People from work, people from church, 20 somethings. I think its because we are all adults with lives and stuff. I met a lot of people, great people. But these people went to college together, work together, grew up together. I also have this personality that doesn't allow me to 'impose'. I don't know. Soon I will have those friends, I have no doubt, new friends not replacement friends.
I will do a post later on my faith.
I apologize for being long winded.
I will do a post later on my faith.
I apologize for being long winded.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
My take on education(aka how I became a teacher).
I went to pre-school for two years. This should make me a genius but that is not why my mother put me in pre-school. It was more a necessity because both of my parents worked. I learned the alphabet, got my first make out session(no joke ask my mom), learned to swim, and pretended that toy boats were guitars with my friend. That was the good life. Nap time, snack time, alphabet time. Although, those were the forming years that cemented my hatred of grits. Yuck! tastes like soupy sand with butter. Gross!
I went to seven different schools before the fifth grade. One catholic school, one evangelist christian school, one inner city school, and four other nondescript public schools in the suburbs. Again I wasn't a genius child but I pretty much met no difficulty until the third grade.
I got a 'U' in handwriting(back when 'U' was still a grade). I still can not write in cursive and not have it look like a third grader wrote it. I hated cursive. Mrs. Shay sent me home with note cards with our spelling words written in perfect script for me to trace using my index finger. I got 'U's! Finally I went to the fourth grade with my crappy cursive and have written in print ever since.
Eventually, I went to sixth grade. I found some sort of social life and my grades began to suffer. I don't remember much from middle school except from a few experiences in choir and band. I remember in eighth grade Mr. Spudy tried to make it dress code that the students tuck their shirts in and wear belts. For some reason, in our 12 year old brains, this was unacceptable. So we organized a walk out. Most of the eighth grade students were walking out when, near the front door, we hear, "GET BACK TO CLASS!" Like roaches running from light we scattered. I look back at our civil disobedience and laugh at our lack of fortitude.
Then I went to high school. It wasn't that I didn't already know that I needed an education and a record that identified my exceptional completion of the grades, I just didn't care. I was in the a marching band so I spent a lot of time at the school doing band things. My grades were sufficient, mostly C's. It wasn't that I wasn't capable of getting an 'A'. I didn't like to do homework. This still haunts me even today. My sophomore chemistry teacher was impressed at my ability to pass her class with a 'C' without turning in any homework or lab reports. I knew the material. I aced all of the tests, to the chagrin of some of my fellow students. By my junior year, the calling of college and the permanent record full of mid level grades made me step up ... sort of. I dropped all of the honors classes I had been taking. I took a schedule of all regular classes. All of my friends were honors or AP type kids and they all got straight 'A's. I picked up my homework and got almost straight A's. I was ready to start taking the challenging classes.
Guidance Counselor: Why do you want to take honors physics?
Me: Huh?
GC: That's one of the hardest classes offered in this school.
Me: Oh, um, I can do it.
GC: Looking at your honors chem grades, I have some reservations.
Me: What? No, I can do it.
GC: Let's call your mom and see what she says.
(dials)
GC: Hello Mrs. Snyder ... Huh? Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Loutsenhizer ... Yes, your son would like to take honors physics ... Right ... well, I feel it might be too challenging considering his previous experience with honors science ... right, well ... ok ... yes, um ... thanks for speaking with me ... uh huh, have a good day.
(To Me)
Alright, but if you have difficulty remember I warned you.
I got straight A's in honors physics. I sent her my mid term and final with bright red A's on the front with a note that said "Thanks for the encouragement!"
I got into two colleges. I chose the one that would not keep me in debt for a million years. My college transcript reads a lot like my high school transcript. For different reasons. I was a drinker ... allow me to clarify. I had friends who were drinkers and were twenty one. I failed two liberal arts requirements that fall. It was tough to climb out of that hole. A theater major is required to participate in productions. During production I was always on campus until late. Not an excuse but relevant information. I still hadn't received the grace of an appreciation for knowledge and learning. That came later in college.
Once I got it I contemplated staying in school longer. Maybe pick up a second major with the plan for law school or grad school of some kind. I decided to finish the first degree. I could always come back. That last year I was planning/hoping to get a directing internship at some regional theater or hit the audition circuit. I wanted to begin the next chapter in my theatre career.
My father was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma in August of 2003. It was a tumor in the base of his tongue. Our scattered phone conversations were becoming more difficult because of the swelling and growth of the tumor. I found myself at a cross roads. Do I go begin my artistic career or do I move to Texas to live with my dad? I decided to move to Texas.
When I graduated I became the first in the family to graduate from college. Shortly afterward I looked for jobs in the Austin/San Marcos area. My girlfriend at the time told me to look into AmeriCorps. "They will help you pay off your loans a little too" Sounds great! After a lot of searching I found a couple of interesting placements. I applied for a position as a mentor/tutor to 'at risk' youth. It would put me on a school campus helping out kids. It sounded way better than some of the positions which seemed like paper pushing internships. They called and asked me for an interview. The rest was history. I got the job. I was placed at a middle school in Kyle, TX.
I enjoyed the work. It was kind of an escape from life at home. I was dealing with about 20 kids on a personal basis but I met and got to know many more. Over the course of the year I began to hear about the theater teacher. He was an older man and apparently he didn't relate very well to the kids. My boss was the first to mention the possibility of me teaching theater arts.
Teaching never appealed to me, at least not since pre-school. While all of the other kids wanted to be rock stars or astronauts. I laughed at their unrealistic goals. I was reasonable. I wanted to be a teacher. That slowly faded as a I took an interest in computers and programming. Then I started performing in High school. I wanted to be an actor. Even through college I thought teaching is what out of work actors do(this is true but it is a choice). Working on a middle school campus made me respect what teachers do. Slowly the bug bit me. I was entertaining the idea more and more. Finally, word got out that they were not going to invite him back.
Me: What do I need to do to get that position?
Principal: Get certified.
Me: Done.
Principal: Submit a resume and application.
Me: Done.
Principal: We'd like to interview you.
Me: Done ... I mean okay.
(Insert interview here)
Principal: We are recommending you for the theater arts teaching position to the district.
Me: Great! (Pumps fist)
Now I am a teacher.
I went to seven different schools before the fifth grade. One catholic school, one evangelist christian school, one inner city school, and four other nondescript public schools in the suburbs. Again I wasn't a genius child but I pretty much met no difficulty until the third grade.
I got a 'U' in handwriting(back when 'U' was still a grade). I still can not write in cursive and not have it look like a third grader wrote it. I hated cursive. Mrs. Shay sent me home with note cards with our spelling words written in perfect script for me to trace using my index finger. I got 'U's! Finally I went to the fourth grade with my crappy cursive and have written in print ever since.
Eventually, I went to sixth grade. I found some sort of social life and my grades began to suffer. I don't remember much from middle school except from a few experiences in choir and band. I remember in eighth grade Mr. Spudy tried to make it dress code that the students tuck their shirts in and wear belts. For some reason, in our 12 year old brains, this was unacceptable. So we organized a walk out. Most of the eighth grade students were walking out when, near the front door, we hear, "GET BACK TO CLASS!" Like roaches running from light we scattered. I look back at our civil disobedience and laugh at our lack of fortitude.
Then I went to high school. It wasn't that I didn't already know that I needed an education and a record that identified my exceptional completion of the grades, I just didn't care. I was in the a marching band so I spent a lot of time at the school doing band things. My grades were sufficient, mostly C's. It wasn't that I wasn't capable of getting an 'A'. I didn't like to do homework. This still haunts me even today. My sophomore chemistry teacher was impressed at my ability to pass her class with a 'C' without turning in any homework or lab reports. I knew the material. I aced all of the tests, to the chagrin of some of my fellow students. By my junior year, the calling of college and the permanent record full of mid level grades made me step up ... sort of. I dropped all of the honors classes I had been taking. I took a schedule of all regular classes. All of my friends were honors or AP type kids and they all got straight 'A's. I picked up my homework and got almost straight A's. I was ready to start taking the challenging classes.
Guidance Counselor: Why do you want to take honors physics?
Me: Huh?
GC: That's one of the hardest classes offered in this school.
Me: Oh, um, I can do it.
GC: Looking at your honors chem grades, I have some reservations.
Me: What? No, I can do it.
GC: Let's call your mom and see what she says.
(dials)
GC: Hello Mrs. Snyder ... Huh? Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Loutsenhizer ... Yes, your son would like to take honors physics ... Right ... well, I feel it might be too challenging considering his previous experience with honors science ... right, well ... ok ... yes, um ... thanks for speaking with me ... uh huh, have a good day.
(To Me)
Alright, but if you have difficulty remember I warned you.
I got straight A's in honors physics. I sent her my mid term and final with bright red A's on the front with a note that said "Thanks for the encouragement!"
I got into two colleges. I chose the one that would not keep me in debt for a million years. My college transcript reads a lot like my high school transcript. For different reasons. I was a drinker ... allow me to clarify. I had friends who were drinkers and were twenty one. I failed two liberal arts requirements that fall. It was tough to climb out of that hole. A theater major is required to participate in productions. During production I was always on campus until late. Not an excuse but relevant information. I still hadn't received the grace of an appreciation for knowledge and learning. That came later in college.
Once I got it I contemplated staying in school longer. Maybe pick up a second major with the plan for law school or grad school of some kind. I decided to finish the first degree. I could always come back. That last year I was planning/hoping to get a directing internship at some regional theater or hit the audition circuit. I wanted to begin the next chapter in my theatre career.
My father was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma in August of 2003. It was a tumor in the base of his tongue. Our scattered phone conversations were becoming more difficult because of the swelling and growth of the tumor. I found myself at a cross roads. Do I go begin my artistic career or do I move to Texas to live with my dad? I decided to move to Texas.
When I graduated I became the first in the family to graduate from college. Shortly afterward I looked for jobs in the Austin/San Marcos area. My girlfriend at the time told me to look into AmeriCorps. "They will help you pay off your loans a little too" Sounds great! After a lot of searching I found a couple of interesting placements. I applied for a position as a mentor/tutor to 'at risk' youth. It would put me on a school campus helping out kids. It sounded way better than some of the positions which seemed like paper pushing internships. They called and asked me for an interview. The rest was history. I got the job. I was placed at a middle school in Kyle, TX.
I enjoyed the work. It was kind of an escape from life at home. I was dealing with about 20 kids on a personal basis but I met and got to know many more. Over the course of the year I began to hear about the theater teacher. He was an older man and apparently he didn't relate very well to the kids. My boss was the first to mention the possibility of me teaching theater arts.
Teaching never appealed to me, at least not since pre-school. While all of the other kids wanted to be rock stars or astronauts. I laughed at their unrealistic goals. I was reasonable. I wanted to be a teacher. That slowly faded as a I took an interest in computers and programming. Then I started performing in High school. I wanted to be an actor. Even through college I thought teaching is what out of work actors do(this is true but it is a choice). Working on a middle school campus made me respect what teachers do. Slowly the bug bit me. I was entertaining the idea more and more. Finally, word got out that they were not going to invite him back.
Me: What do I need to do to get that position?
Principal: Get certified.
Me: Done.
Principal: Submit a resume and application.
Me: Done.
Principal: We'd like to interview you.
Me: Done ... I mean okay.
(Insert interview here)
Principal: We are recommending you for the theater arts teaching position to the district.
Me: Great! (Pumps fist)
Now I am a teacher.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
So this is what is on my mind.
I have to preface this entry with this: I just came from a Catholic Christmas party.
The Christmas party was fun. I enjoyed myself. Had a little bit to drink. I took my own white elephant gift home. I left alone. This doesn't disturb or annoy me. I went there knowing I would come straight home afterwards. But watching all of the couples go home, even the ones that had connected tonight, made me wonder when I would be part of a couple again.
I realize that this is becoming an old LJ entry but bear with me.
I am in the middle of a year long singleness. This is something self imposed. Even if a girl had asked me to go home with her(knowing that nothing would happen aside from further conversation), I would've said "no," and explained why.
I ended a sort of secret relationship in July. The previous relationship (the one before the secret one) ended for distance reasons and ultimately was a good decision on my part.
Here is the story.
I graduated from college in May of 2006. I was dating a girl. I began dating her in September of that year. I also began formal formation for entry into the Roman Catholic Church that month (that decision had nothing to do with the girl). She was supportive of my conversion. We had a physical relationship, one that was not approved of by the Christian faith. I love my faith and struggled with the relationship, especially after my baptism. I was never up front with her about my struggle and allowed the physical aspect of the relationship to continue. I can remember a specific conversation that took place before my baptism in which I said, "I am not going to do this halfway." I was referring to my Catholicity. She got offended. She took the statement as a comparison to her Catholicity. Her response was, "So you think I'm doing it halfway?" This was not a judgement on her faith. It actually at the time was a veiled attempt to see if she would mind the change in the relationship. In the end, I moved to Texas after graduation and she moved to Poland. I am not very good over the phone. I can get jealous and my imagination runs with me. We often got into fights over silly stuff but they were emotionally draining. We held onto what we had until one fateful conversation. After I moved to Texas, I began attending the local church. Over a period of about three months I decided that I couldn't live in a way that wasn't in accordance with the churches teaching on sex. I told her this and she was upset. She was upset because I had made this decision without her. She said that she didn't know if she knew me anymore. She was worried that my other views had changed, like my political stances, she essentially called me a conservative christian. I don't blame her. I should've presented my quandaries long before that discussion and I could've presented them in a way that made her feel like more a part of the process. I ended that relationship while she was in a lot of personal strife. I am incredibly sorry for the pain I may have inflicted but I am not regretful. So that relationship was over.
[edit 12/17/2007 after reading this again. This is an over simplification of the end of this relationship. It also had a lot to do with my father's illness. I will write on that more someday.]
Not long after that I began a new relationship that made itself very physical very quickly. Again, I didn't express myself about the moral quandaries that were in my head. Finally, when I did it was too late. That discussion quickly heated up. I didn't want to be seen as the "Jesus Freak" and she didn't want to be seen as the "Pagan Heathen." Ultimately I think it ended for reasons far bigger than that.
The point is that here I am alone, now for almost 6 months. I am uncomfortable being single. I feel like every female friend I make is a possible mate. I find myself (and I hate that I do this) rating girls as possible mates. I meet a girl and I wonder if she's the one. I really do want to marry the next girl I date. Wouldn't that be wonderful? If it were that simple?
So this self imposed singleness ... I suppose if God dropped in my lap the perfect girl for me, I would be open to that, but I feel as though that is not the case at the present time. I met a couple of different girls tonight. All of which were wonderful, beautiful, and pleasant to talk to. None of which set off the spark. I guess what I am trying to say is that I don't want to force it anymore.
All of the couples I met tonight were in their late twenties. Maybe I'm in for more than a year. I'm okay with that as long as it lasts until I die. I didn't even touch on the possibility of a calling to a holy order, but thats a distinct possibility as well.
God will let me know in his own time.
Much love,
B
The Christmas party was fun. I enjoyed myself. Had a little bit to drink. I took my own white elephant gift home. I left alone. This doesn't disturb or annoy me. I went there knowing I would come straight home afterwards. But watching all of the couples go home, even the ones that had connected tonight, made me wonder when I would be part of a couple again.
I realize that this is becoming an old LJ entry but bear with me.
I am in the middle of a year long singleness. This is something self imposed. Even if a girl had asked me to go home with her(knowing that nothing would happen aside from further conversation), I would've said "no," and explained why.
I ended a sort of secret relationship in July. The previous relationship (the one before the secret one) ended for distance reasons and ultimately was a good decision on my part.
Here is the story.
I graduated from college in May of 2006. I was dating a girl. I began dating her in September of that year. I also began formal formation for entry into the Roman Catholic Church that month (that decision had nothing to do with the girl). She was supportive of my conversion. We had a physical relationship, one that was not approved of by the Christian faith. I love my faith and struggled with the relationship, especially after my baptism. I was never up front with her about my struggle and allowed the physical aspect of the relationship to continue. I can remember a specific conversation that took place before my baptism in which I said, "I am not going to do this halfway." I was referring to my Catholicity. She got offended. She took the statement as a comparison to her Catholicity. Her response was, "So you think I'm doing it halfway?" This was not a judgement on her faith. It actually at the time was a veiled attempt to see if she would mind the change in the relationship. In the end, I moved to Texas after graduation and she moved to Poland. I am not very good over the phone. I can get jealous and my imagination runs with me. We often got into fights over silly stuff but they were emotionally draining. We held onto what we had until one fateful conversation. After I moved to Texas, I began attending the local church. Over a period of about three months I decided that I couldn't live in a way that wasn't in accordance with the churches teaching on sex. I told her this and she was upset. She was upset because I had made this decision without her. She said that she didn't know if she knew me anymore. She was worried that my other views had changed, like my political stances, she essentially called me a conservative christian. I don't blame her. I should've presented my quandaries long before that discussion and I could've presented them in a way that made her feel like more a part of the process. I ended that relationship while she was in a lot of personal strife. I am incredibly sorry for the pain I may have inflicted but I am not regretful. So that relationship was over.
[edit 12/17/2007 after reading this again. This is an over simplification of the end of this relationship. It also had a lot to do with my father's illness. I will write on that more someday.]
Not long after that I began a new relationship that made itself very physical very quickly. Again, I didn't express myself about the moral quandaries that were in my head. Finally, when I did it was too late. That discussion quickly heated up. I didn't want to be seen as the "Jesus Freak" and she didn't want to be seen as the "Pagan Heathen." Ultimately I think it ended for reasons far bigger than that.
The point is that here I am alone, now for almost 6 months. I am uncomfortable being single. I feel like every female friend I make is a possible mate. I find myself (and I hate that I do this) rating girls as possible mates. I meet a girl and I wonder if she's the one. I really do want to marry the next girl I date. Wouldn't that be wonderful? If it were that simple?
So this self imposed singleness ... I suppose if God dropped in my lap the perfect girl for me, I would be open to that, but I feel as though that is not the case at the present time. I met a couple of different girls tonight. All of which were wonderful, beautiful, and pleasant to talk to. None of which set off the spark. I guess what I am trying to say is that I don't want to force it anymore.
All of the couples I met tonight were in their late twenties. Maybe I'm in for more than a year. I'm okay with that as long as it lasts until I die. I didn't even touch on the possibility of a calling to a holy order, but thats a distinct possibility as well.
God will let me know in his own time.
Much love,
B
Monday, December 10, 2007
Yet another one
I always start these things after some momentous event like New years or in this case my 24th birthday. The intention is keep it somewhat regular. By having a blog or online journal I feel like my ideas and mental meanderings are worthwhile.
This first entry is going to be huge.
And now for something I have never done...
From the beginning...(the abridged version)
I was born in Balboa Naval Hospital on December 2, 1983 to parents who thought they were doing the right thing by getting married. We lived in San Diego until I was three. Then my parents were divorced and my mom transfered to a naval base in Louisiana. My father stayed back in San Diego until his contract was up and he got out of the Navy and moved to back to his hometown, Austin. Both parents found new mates. My father re-upped in the navy and moved back out to San Diego. My mom had a daughter in '89. Both parents had a son with their mates early in the year '91. All this time, I'm of course moving back and forth during summers and alternating holidays. In 1993, my mother, with family in tow, moved to the Pittsburgh area. Later that year my youngest sister was born. I believe I am in fifth grade now. I started going to the same school with regularity, Penn Trafford. Sixth grade is really when I begin to have my formative moments. The strongest memories come from sixth grade on. The first day of sixth grade I met Bob Rozycki. He was my best friend. His was the first house I spent the night at that wasn't family. We were in the chorus together. He got me into band. He loved sports. We would hang out watch movies and play video games. Sometimes, usually after the yearbook came out, we would list all of the girls we could think of and rate them using a rubric and determine who the top three girls in the school were. I always had a girlfriend and he never did, not until high school anyway. My relationships then were pretty meaningless. Me and a girl would talk on the phone for hours(a feat I can't perform anymore). That was the extent of a relationship for me. Typical I suppose. I was really into performing, singing and band anyway. I met Chris(two years ahead of me) and Greg(one year) along the way but they play a bigger part in high school. In the eighth grade I earned myself my first solo in the chorus and that cemented my love of being on stage. Off to high school. My freshman year started with band camp. I was the freshman that everyone loved to hate. I was mouthy. I didn't respect the authority of the three grades ahead of me. I played the tenor sax, which put me in the lower brass. Bob was in the band with me. I think by the end of band camp I had been through one girlfriend and moved onto the next. Band camp was three weeks long. The relationships at this point were beginning to progress to something more than phone calls. I can remember one run in with Chris. He didn't like me because of my lack of respect. We were on break and I walked past a trumpet meeting and gave them the finger and ran. Chris and fellow trumpet Brad chased me down the hall, outside, into the courtyard. They threatened to break my finger. I don't remember how I got out of it but I did. Band came and went, then came musical auditions. I auditioned just to get in the play. I never expected a call back. But the call back list went up and there was my name. Chris and I were called back for the production tenor role. If you've only seen the movie its the guy who sings "Beautiful Girls." Of course in high school people like to talk. Even my best friend Bob told me they wouldn't give a freshman a solo. There were even threats on my life(none serious enough to matter but at the time it kind of made me concerned). I got the solo and I'm still alive. Through that production Chris and I became very close. That sparked my love of theater. The next year is kind of a wash. I gained a few more friendships with people who previously thought little of me. Chris and I grew closer. Bob was still a staple in my life. There were a couple other girls(my life has really been defined by the girls I dated). I really used to measure my life by girls, not in a qualitative sense, but as eras.
"Don't you remember that party?"
"When was it?"
"You were dating Valerie."
"Oh yeah. Yeah I remember that."
Wow. This is what is on my mind. Girls. Well, girls and best friends. To make the longer story short, we all went off to college and now I'm in Texas. There is so much more that I want to talk about. Defining relationships. My father's death. My sisters disappearance which we now know as her moving to Montana. My brother and sister down here who are cool as hell. I'll continue this some other time.
Entry 1 down.
This first entry is going to be huge.
And now for something I have never done...
From the beginning...(the abridged version)
I was born in Balboa Naval Hospital on December 2, 1983 to parents who thought they were doing the right thing by getting married. We lived in San Diego until I was three. Then my parents were divorced and my mom transfered to a naval base in Louisiana. My father stayed back in San Diego until his contract was up and he got out of the Navy and moved to back to his hometown, Austin. Both parents found new mates. My father re-upped in the navy and moved back out to San Diego. My mom had a daughter in '89. Both parents had a son with their mates early in the year '91. All this time, I'm of course moving back and forth during summers and alternating holidays. In 1993, my mother, with family in tow, moved to the Pittsburgh area. Later that year my youngest sister was born. I believe I am in fifth grade now. I started going to the same school with regularity, Penn Trafford. Sixth grade is really when I begin to have my formative moments. The strongest memories come from sixth grade on. The first day of sixth grade I met Bob Rozycki. He was my best friend. His was the first house I spent the night at that wasn't family. We were in the chorus together. He got me into band. He loved sports. We would hang out watch movies and play video games. Sometimes, usually after the yearbook came out, we would list all of the girls we could think of and rate them using a rubric and determine who the top three girls in the school were. I always had a girlfriend and he never did, not until high school anyway. My relationships then were pretty meaningless. Me and a girl would talk on the phone for hours(a feat I can't perform anymore). That was the extent of a relationship for me. Typical I suppose. I was really into performing, singing and band anyway. I met Chris(two years ahead of me) and Greg(one year) along the way but they play a bigger part in high school. In the eighth grade I earned myself my first solo in the chorus and that cemented my love of being on stage. Off to high school. My freshman year started with band camp. I was the freshman that everyone loved to hate. I was mouthy. I didn't respect the authority of the three grades ahead of me. I played the tenor sax, which put me in the lower brass. Bob was in the band with me. I think by the end of band camp I had been through one girlfriend and moved onto the next. Band camp was three weeks long. The relationships at this point were beginning to progress to something more than phone calls. I can remember one run in with Chris. He didn't like me because of my lack of respect. We were on break and I walked past a trumpet meeting and gave them the finger and ran. Chris and fellow trumpet Brad chased me down the hall, outside, into the courtyard. They threatened to break my finger. I don't remember how I got out of it but I did. Band came and went, then came musical auditions. I auditioned just to get in the play. I never expected a call back. But the call back list went up and there was my name. Chris and I were called back for the production tenor role. If you've only seen the movie its the guy who sings "Beautiful Girls." Of course in high school people like to talk. Even my best friend Bob told me they wouldn't give a freshman a solo. There were even threats on my life(none serious enough to matter but at the time it kind of made me concerned). I got the solo and I'm still alive. Through that production Chris and I became very close. That sparked my love of theater. The next year is kind of a wash. I gained a few more friendships with people who previously thought little of me. Chris and I grew closer. Bob was still a staple in my life. There were a couple other girls(my life has really been defined by the girls I dated). I really used to measure my life by girls, not in a qualitative sense, but as eras.
"Don't you remember that party?"
"When was it?"
"You were dating Valerie."
"Oh yeah. Yeah I remember that."
Wow. This is what is on my mind. Girls. Well, girls and best friends. To make the longer story short, we all went off to college and now I'm in Texas. There is so much more that I want to talk about. Defining relationships. My father's death. My sisters disappearance which we now know as her moving to Montana. My brother and sister down here who are cool as hell. I'll continue this some other time.
Entry 1 down.
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