be free

This past week has been a bit of a roller coaster. Earlier when I posted that Radical Face song, it's because it stirred some ripe emotions within me. It made me miss home like I've never missed it before. I've always been the girl seeking independence and autonomy from family, from home, from people needing me. And now I have it.

I'm here in California, by myself. My closest family member is 2,000 miles away. While I am building a surrogate family here, one day at a time, remembering what I'm missing out on this weekend is painful.

After 19 years, my dad is retiring from the ministry. All of the Garrards are converging in Hickory this weekend to celebrate a life of dedication and sacrifice. All but one. It's so strange to be missing out on this. I was prepared for it and knew I wasn't going to make it home for it, but for some reason I didn't know how to emotionally prepare for it.

This weekend is as much for dad as it is for us: my mom, brother, sister and I. Our lives circled around him our whole lives. We moved when he moved. We packed when he packed. We cried when he cried. We were hurt when he was hurt. We got involved when he got involved. I am who I am directly because of what my dad is. The fact of the matter is, when I go home it will be very different. He will be home during the day and available at night. His stack of magazines he never has time to read will be much smaller and all the leaky faucets will be tight. He will sit with us in the pew at church and will ride home with us afterwards.

I wish I could be home this weekend to share a story about him. When I think of my dad, I don't think of him as a pastor. I picture him in his dirty, ratty clothes working on a car. However, his character is definitely one of a pastor. Much like a shepherd. He guides, pursues, engages, and cares. Every person is important. Every person deserves a look in the eye and a hand shake, no matter your age, race, or stature. We were never an experiment or a task or a member of his flock. We were his family. I am his daughter, not a project.

He deserves every accolade that is going to be given to him. Every kind word. Every round of applause. He's done good things on this earth. Great things.

Human Condition of Mixed Emotion

Radical Face - "Welcome Home"

In a rejection email from a man at a church, I received this as his reasoning for not wanting to host a screening for us.

"We are committed to taking a rifle and aiming it at a few movements that God wants us to participate in, versus using a shotgun and spreading ourselves too thin."

Deep.

a boost to the joy level

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero's - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

year and a half

Looks like I'm 3 hours behind most of you. It makes all the difference in the world - our schedules don't align and we don't even eat breakfast around the same time.

It's been a hard transition being out here, joining a new team, living with 17 new roommates, dealing with the same old identity and social issues, etc. I'm interested to see what will happen and who I will become by the end of this commitment.

Sometimes I wonder if I purposefully put myself into really tough situations or if I create the stress and difficulty which surrounds tough situations. Maybe the experiences I find myself in aren't as bad as I make them out to be. Maybe if I just put on a brighter smile and had a better attitude, I wouldn't feel so strained and beaten and deserted.

I've realized many, many things about myself in the last week. Put me on an island by myself for weeks on end and I would be happy. Put me in a crowded room with people all the time, I wouldn't make it. I love being alone. But I also really value the friendships that I have - those friends that I feel comfortable with to hang around and not speak. You know the kind. I feel as if since August of last year I have been working hard to make friends, but have only escaped with a few. I've been committing small talk for the past year. On the road, every day new faces, same questions. I'm so tired of talking and asking questions and being the friend. I want to be pursued by a new friend.

Goodness, I wish I could play God. I do. It would make my life so much more simple.

Beach House - Heart of Chambers

This is the jam.

Let's Keep In Touch. I Mean It.

It's the time again, where I'm lying in my bed in my parents' house with suitcases packed and that christmas-eve-night anticipation running through my body. But it's really different this time, you know.

This time I have friends "out there" that I already know. I won't have to small talk. I know where they are from and what their laughs sound like and the music they enjoy. It's nice. But at the same time it isn't the relaxation I feel when I return to my Greensboro friends - the people I've known for 5 years now and can successfully sit in complete silence with and not feel awkward.

Sometimes when I think about this move to California, I get overwhelmed at the thought of a year of small talk, a year of awkward sarcasm and mere attempts at deep, meaningful relationships. The self-proclaimed introvert gets tired just thinking of having to be an extrovert in order to make friends.

I think I will be okay. I know where some parks are. I know where to get a bike. I know where I can find solitude and respite and recoup when my community art classes and scuba lessons (all hopefuls) give me too much people time. But I also hope I don't find too much solace in these things. Being alone is where I feel most comfortable and most energized, so I'm begging myself to not fall into that cycle. Discomfort has always brought great fruition into my life, so hopefully it'll be the same.

PLUS, I am banking on some celeb sightings. I'm hoping for Natalie Portman, though I think she resides in NYC, and Zooey Deschanel. I bet if I just camp out at LAX, TMZ will lead me straight to 'em.

......

In other news, I just learned that "ya'll" is not spelled that way at all. It's "y'all." I feel so disrespectful to my Southern roots for all the years.