On Goals, and a Lack Thereof

The problem is not so much 29 and single with no prospects.

The problem is more that most of my good friends are living my dream (stay-at-home-motherhood), and have been for about five years now.

Yep, I know. Still want it.

The problem is that I don't have any goals left besides motherhood:

Get an interesting advanced degree: √

Live in or near a couple great cities: Chicago (outside), Atlanta, NYC, √

Travel to interesting places: A dozen or so countries in Europe, one in the Middle East, and 38/50 states, before running out of money? √

Get published in an academic journal: √

Get published in not-an-academic-journal: √

Present a paper at a conference: √

Work for a(n arch)diocese: √

Work in publishing: √

So! I need to develop some life goals. No ideas how to do this.

I've got some small goals:

Shape up finances to a not-so-terrible place (depressing)

Get apartment to a not-so-messy place (depressing)

Get less terrible at cooking (depressing, and more importantly neverending)

Read voraciously (great fun, but there's no threshold to achieve here)

Maybe do some Shakespeare-related thing for his quadricentenary this year?

I have, in fact, NEVER regretted attending a Shakespeare play.

None of these provide overall motivation, though. None of them help me combat the feeling that I'm just filling time until my "real" life starts.

This would be so much easier if I had any career ambition whatsoever!

Anyway, suggestions are welcome, both for new goals themselves and for how to brainstorm/find new goals.

Until next time!

Hey look! I'm back! And feeling a bit like a different Claire

I think I've reached a point in life when I need to blog again. I consume so much of other people's writings -- mostly stories, but a lot of random thoughts and brief articles, too -- I need to start producing some of my own.

Even apart from that, I find myself in ways I never thought I'd be: 

Living in NYC!

This was taken less than 2mi from my home (by not me)

29 and single with no prospects, and more or less settling down nonetheless.

Fighting various small-but-persistent health problems. 

My faith at a different, quieter, hopefully deeper level, at 11.5y and counting of intentional discipleship. 

An extrovert who has grown into the introvert problem of sometimes being suddenly Done With People while still out with people. 

Someone with a fantastic network of friendships rooted in Christ, who yet still struggles with and ponders about loneliness on a fundamental human level. 

A career woman with no interest in a career, who has trouble finding new life goals to set. 

A person unwilling to pick up and move again, because I've done that far too often already, and because it'd require something really good for me to move away from family again.

A reasonably fervent sports fan! Who knows sadly few fellow fans to discuss them with. A surprisingly common attitude among my friends is: "I love that you love sports! I have no interest in them myself, but it'so so unexpected in you, yet it suits you at the same time." That's quite charming, but doesn't help me suss out who to root for to win the AFC this year, besides anyone who's not the Patriots. (I think I'm going for the Chiefs, FWIW. I like Kansas/Kansans.)

Someone who hasn't gotten her shit together enough to send out Christmas cards in at least three years.

Oh yeah, and who has lost nearly all reservations about using coarse language, except of course in particular situations.

Someone who's not only unscandalized but unsurprised by various parish/diocesan/whatever happenings that cause faithful co-workers twice my age to FREAK OUT. I suppose I'm jaded in a certain respect?

Someone whose perspective has changed on a lot of things. Who gladly acknowledges objective right and wrong, but is more worried about an individual's culpability and vulnerabilities.

Someone who has increasingly seen places where the feminists actually get it right, enough so this no longer scares/disturbs her.

Someone who doesn't (can't) attend daily Mass, but prays Matins, Lauds, and Vespers daily.

Someone who's not in any kind of liturgical choir! Seriously, I haven't been out of a choir for more than a couple months since my age was in the single digits.

Enormously more conservative with both physical and verbal affection than in years past. Much preferring to demonstrate the same enormous amounts of love by implementing in life the great maxim of the visual arts: Show, don't tell. (Ok, tell sometimes, but only sometimes, and probably pretty concisely.)

Who watches a LOT of tv! And keeps pretty current on movies, too. So many great stories to watch these days!

Mostly wears hats for the enjoyment of other people, or to be easily identifiable publicly, and rarely for my own sake anymore.

Travels only a moderate amount, no longer flying someplace at least one weekend a month.

Who has recently begun to experience that horrible feeling -- when an acquaintance gets engaged, feeling fundamentally sad or resentful or frustrated, despite desiring to feel happy for her, who is truly delightful, and good for her.

Not only do I accept dates categorically unless the guy is unavailable, creepy, or far too old, but I straight up ask guys out myself when I have moderate interest! A date is just a date. And how else are you supposed to get in a decent conversation with somebody to see if there's any interest there?

Empathy runs especially high for those whose difficult experiences I don't share, whose sensitivities, whose "normal" others often transgress out of misinformation or obliviousness. I try to be aware of my own shortcomings in this regard, but I'm sure I do imperfectly.

Vulnerable is more difficult than it used to be.

I see others, often friends, speak of their job or their hobbies with passion, and am a bit envious. I don't know how to access equivalent passion/excitement in myself.

Thanks to my very-long commute, I read at least 20,000 pages a year. The vast majority of that is fiction, which is simply glorious!

* * *

I mean, plenty of things are still constant. I'm every bit as Catholic as I've ever been! I'm still broke. Still love stories, and love people even more. Still have great fun planning parties and other events in great detail. And unorganized writing turns into disorganized stream-of-consciousness pretty easily.

Heh. And what I intend to be a small note still turns out to be more than twice as long as I'd intended. Some things never change...

Job Searching = Having a Crush on Every Boy

That title either rings true immediately or causes confusion; in either case I'm finding it often brings laughter. Observe.

There are a staggering number of possibilities out there, statistically speaking.

A few of them even seem like they might be a good fit.

So you dress up real pretty (resume/cover letter), and spend a lot of time saying "Hi" and smiling across the room (sending resumes).

Sometimes, you get a "Hi" back (acknowledgment of receipt of resume), and occasionally even a coffee date (interview, perhaps via phone or Skype).

This may even be followed by a dinner date (second or in-person interview), but it's still a little premature to obsess over how you'll respond if he offers you a ring--after all, unlike a conventional proposal, you get a few days to ponder out a job offer, and no one's really that heartbroken if you say no.

 ≠ 

Okay, funny analogy, but so what? Searching for a job, like obsessive crushing, more or less requires the subject to live in a fantasy world that is only tangentially in touch with reality. Because there are so many targets and so few responses, everything changes so quickly; the story is so often completely different in just two days.

That's why so many conversations that are meant to be straightforward and kind are felt like this:

Friend 1: I want to show that I am interested in your life and well-being, so I'll ask how the job search is going, because I know that's a big thing in your life. It's the equivalent of asking "How's work?", right?

Friend 2: OH MY GOSH will people please stop asking me to give them the painfully intimate details of the fundamental uncertainty of my life at the present moment!? I mean, I'm glad you care, but can't we talk about anything else!? (Not that I can think of anything else, as the job search is kind of consuming my life at present... Hmmph.)

Ah, stress.

What's the moral of the story? I'm not really sure it has one. Sometimes the observation of a truth is enough.

Spiritus sapientiae et intellectus, miserere nobis.

Spiritus consilii, fortitudinis, scientiae, et pietatis, miserere nobis.

Spiritus timoris Domini et prudentiae, miserere nobis.

Note: The video whence the title catchphrase originates is entirely superfluous to my point, but for those of you now having Homestar Runner cravings, I've just saved you a Google search.

Priests are People, Too

One of the most humbling things about studying at a seminary is the opportunity to spend time with these men in the weeks just before their ordinations.

At the beginning of the year, they looked forward to their ordinations, sure, but for most that was just because they'd been done with school.  Now that's still a factor (as it is for every student - and most teachers, while we're at it), but there's something different about it now, weeks away from being ordained.  They've long been  just normal guys who speak of the Church with incredibly deep love, but there's an almost imperceptible difference that's crept into their attitudes in recent weeks.  They are, after all, mere weeks shy of their wedding day.

"I can't believe the Church is actually going to ordain me.  Me!  Does she know what she's doing!?"  They speak with the same love and awe of a man who can't quite grasp why his beautiful, talented wife chose him, of all the people in the world.

These men have no illusions.  They know that ordination will not solve their problems or make them perfect.  They're well aware that the life of a priest is not a walk in the park.  But God has chosen them for it.  Who are they to say no?

"It's almost real now.  I'm really going to be a priest in just a few weeks."  There's a deep excitement there, an eagerness to get out into the real world and serve the people in the parishes, but it's hidden beneath a thick layer of reverence for the configuration to Christ they'll soon be given, a layer of awe for the power and responsibility that's about to be entrusted to them.

And it is one of the most beautiful things I've seen in a long time.  Thank you, dear seminarians, for reminding me what fear of the Lord looks like.  I pray that you retain that deep-seated joy and awe at your priesthood throughout your life.  I guarantee that it will bear fruit.

Jesus, High Priest inflamed with zeal for God and souls, have mercy on us.

On Early Marriage - and Early Divorce

This week I learned about the first "Steubenville divorce" of people I knew before they were married.

Now, early marriage can be controversial, insofar as many people think it unwise precisely because it often leads to divorce.  Unfortunately, those figures count "early marriage" as anything from 14 to mid-twenties.  There's a lot of growth in those ten years; those figures are pretty skewed.  (Here is a long but insightful defense of early marriage).

Then, of course, among those who desire an early marriage, there are many for whom that's simply not how the cards play out.  Whether your focus is waiting for the one God has prepared for you or choosing someone based on practical qualities that will make them a good spouse and parent, the fact remains that we can't always get what we want.

Of these who are not able to marry as early as they'd like, there come, of course, the unmarried woes (in women, at least, these often begin in the late twenties; I've no experience of men facing such, though I'd imagine they do): a loneliness mixed with despair at an ever-shrinking pool of applicants (if you will) and fear because of decreasing fertility.

None of these fears justify "settling" in the contemporary mind: tying the knot with someone you don't /really/ love, just to have the security of being married (unless you're open to things like adultery, divorce, etc).  Of course, it is possible to have a good marriage in such a situation, but it requires a lot of self-discipline, and pushing forward just as strongly as if one were "in love with" one's spouse in the first place.  (This is entirely doable, cf. many centuries of arranged marriages, but very foreign to the modern mind.)

I didn't know the couple in question well at all.  I knew her, mostly by association, and I had wondered that she had matured and been tamed so entirely as to be entering into marriage with such fervor and purity as they displayed (as most all engaged couples at Steubenville so piously display).  Trouble is, some people are inspired to virtue by the fact that everyone around them is striving for holiness out there, but others lose discipline because they no longer have to fight for their faith, and still others seem to be completely oblivious to the campus-wide peer pressure to be holy.

So I can't say I'm any more surprised by their divorce than I was by their marriage, especially since I keep hearing that the divorce rate from Steubenville is the same as the divorce rate for the rest of the country (though usually those divorces are blamed on the couple's loss of faith that resulted from the loss of community upon graduation).  And, from what little I know about them, he should have little difficulty obtaining an annulment, and should probably be able to win custody of their child.

But just imagining this poor man, whom I could hardly pick out of a crowd, divorced with a daughter after just two crazy years of marriage...  he can't possibly be older than 27.  I have a hard enough time being single and post-college, and everyone I know has had a hard time making that transition from college to adulthood.  How much more difficult will it be for him!

Please pray all those involved in this sticky situation.  Yet another reason to be careful before settling for someone who may not be motivated to work as hard as you to keep the marriage going.

And another reason to remember that marriages don't make themselves.  Keep in mind, my fellow singles, that life does not actually get easier upon making those vows.  What struggles we have just change.

Sancte Ioseph, ora pro eis
Sancta Maria, ora pro eis
Sancta Familia, orate pro eis

On Hunger

My car is in Illinois.  I am in Jersey.  Cars are required to get places in Jersey, and I have been going places.  This is more or less convenient, because Dad works in the city, and so long as he gets to his bus stop in the morning, he has no problem with me using his car.

I'm working at my old job again.  I used to work 9-5, which gave me plenty of time to attend 8am Mass at a nearby church (unbeknownst to them).  But since they asked me to come back for 8:30-4:30, and this allows me to drop Dad off at his bus stop (rather than forcing Mom to get up early and do so), I decided to forego my preference of attending daily Mass (for I know that this is not a requirement for a good, holy Christian life) during the time when I'm home, and to focus instead on singing the Divine Office and asking Our Lord to come to me in spiritual communion.

And it has been wonderful to focus on the prayer of the whole people of God, singing psalms and spiritual canticles.  As someone who is not canonically bound to its recitation, imposing this discipline upon myself has been a great blessing indeed.

But I've also noticed that these past few days have been filled with more longing for romance than had the weeks previous.  And I can't help but wonder how much that is connected to the sacramental distance I've had from my divine Beloved.

O God, you are my God, for you I long...

On Control, Independence, and Marriage

One of the things I've enjoyed most about being home and single this past year has been the independence and flexibility.  I can make last-minute snap decisions as to whether I want to go out (and if so, where) on a given night.  I can drive forty minutes away to go to Sunday Mass at a parish where I really feel at home, where my soul is deeply nourished.  I can pick up and spend a weekend away visiting friends, and my only concerns are not making plans at home during that weekend.  Even in college I didn't have this much freedom.

But I'm going back to school next month.  And while it's fantastic that I have my own room, parking on campus is free, and a load of laundry in the washer or dryer costs only $.50, my life will have a new structure to it.

See, this program is an M.A. in Liturgical Studies, and the school believes that one cannot be Catholic and merely study the Liturgy without being steeped in it, and for that reason all students are required to live the liturgical life of the campus: praying together for Matins, Vespers, and Mass each day.  The Sunday Mass (on campus!) is explicitly the liturgical highlight of the week, the packet I received this weekend reminded me, so much so that priest students are encouraged to not have weekly duties at nearby parishes.  This is serious business.

And while it absolutely makes sense for liturgical scholars to pray together, and while I had known that this was an integral part of their degree program, I had forgotten.  Instead, I was getting excited about spending Sundays with friends from my undergrad who are in the area, about taking Sundays to explore downtown Chicago, and about assisting at Mass at such beautiful places as St John Cantius and the Shrine of Christ the King.

The hardest part is that conforming to these campus liturgical norms (as required in obedience even just to my vocation as a student) means leaving behind a favorite part of the spirituality the Lord has developed in me this past year: my adherence to the old calendar and living in the spirit of traditional liturgy.  That spirit will remain, but I will be thoroughly rooted in the modern calendar and practice, which is something I find extremely disappointing.

But as Anne pointed out over the weekend, this is simply another case of preparing for my vocation as a wife and mother.  When married, I will not have the freedom to do things my way simply because I prefer them that way.  I will need to do things in a certain manner for the good of my family, and I'm sure I will have to compromise even on issues I consider to be important.

St Faustina had mystical visions of Our Lord, in which He gave her specific instructions (for things like forming a new religious order or getting the Feast of the Divine Mercy put on the liturgical calendar).  When she took these to her confessors and superiors, they nearly always said, "You're crazy.  No."  (Not always in so many words, but they rarely believed her.)  She knew that the instructions Our Lord gave to her were good and holy and His Will, but even so she submitted to the will of her superiors, of those to whom she'd sworn obedience, and simply trusted.  And Our Lord told her how much He valued her obedience.  It wasn't until after her death that these particular things were accomplished, but one of the crosses Our Lord wanted her to bear was His unfulfilled desires.

And so I say: even if I must set down my joy in the glories of Thy tradition for Thy Will and the good of my future family, may Thy will be done on earth - in my heart - as it is in heaven.

On Vulnerability, Redemption, and a Continued Recovery from Feminism

I was a feminist in high school. Of the courteous, egalitarian school of feminism, but still. For instance, if I were walking into a building and the guy walking with me held the first door for me, I would thank him and hold the next door for him. If a female friend complimented my appearance, I would quickly scan hers for something upon which to compliment her. Accepting a compliment without returning one seemed almost ungracious.

I was alerted to the fact that I treat compliments this way over four years ago. In a long end-of-year conversation appreciating an amazing friendship, Joe kept giving me compliments, and I just didn't have as many to return as he had to give. And he called me on it, telling me that to simply accept a compliment was enough. This rocked my world, and I worked to become proficient at sometimes graciously accepting a compliment without returning one.

Back to the egalitarian side of things. Even as a feminist, I didn't think that men and women should be the same, just equal. So the way I now work out visits to my chivalrous guy friends would have been perfectly acceptable to me then, too: they pay for things, because they want to, and I pay them back by accepting it graciously and then making them dinner. Perhaps not always an even exchange, but an exchange nonetheless (and one that allows me to sneakily spend money on him without breaking the taboo on the woman paying for things).

Too, the man paying for dates in a relationship rarely bothered me. Perhaps because I knew the woman would pinch hit on occasion, or because their finances would ideally be united in the end anyway, or because she contributed to the relationship in non-monetary ways.

But a man going out of his way, freely spending his time and money on a woman just for the joy of her company? That's a little humbling. That's a part of the equation I don't like to think much about.

But I was thinking about it at Mass yesterday morning, my eyes fixed on the crucifix as the priest offered prayers at the altar, and the Lord reminded me that He spent much more than money on me. My naive response (we silly humans always think we're right): But it wasn't just for the grace of my company!, thinking of all the great victories the Paschal Mystery won for us.

Ah, but it was. I spent all I had for the grace of your eternal company with me in heaven.

Oh. Don't I feel dumb. Check, please!

On Perfection and Loneliness

Appealing though the thought of perfect pitch has been at times to me as a musician, I've realized since childhood that it would be more of a curse than a blessing. My present ability to go a tiny bit flat with the rest of the choir and not realize it is quite a boon to the creative, relaxing element of singing. I can hardly imagine how bitter and angry a person I might be if I always heard the imperfections in others' pitch; the beauty of so much music would be so easily overwhelmed by the minuscule errors that would stand out like a sore thumb to me. If I had perfect pitch, I would be interiorly separated from all but the best of musicians, no matter what musical experiences we might have.

As I've come to terms with the fact that I am truly an intellectual, I've been repeatedly shocked by just how dumb people are. And I've seen a similar pattern: the more I understand about life, the less I am able to share of myself with those who are on a different philosophical plane (let alone those who hardly understand what a philosophical plane is).

So it makes sense that the same would be true of holiness. The closer Our Lord brings me to Him, the less I resemble the rest of humanity, and the less the people around me will be able to understand me. They'll understand parts of me, facets of me, but never the entirety of my being as I so thoroughly desire to be understood. This "holy loneliness" is a natural part of our longing for God, and has been experienced acutely by many saints throughout the centuries. I should consider it an honor, not a nuisance, when I am left without human understanding.

Bring on the loneliness, Lord, if it's a side effect of the holiness You desire to bring me to. My heart is restless, O God...

On Chivalry, Romance, and the Occasional Date

Last weekend I went on a date for the first time in over two years.  Not an "ooo la la!" date with romantic potential, but a young gentleman friend needed an escort to a particular event, so I accompanied him.  I expected nothing other than the natural high of dancing the night away.

Keep in mind that I have (and have always had) many guy friends.  I have become quite accustomed to one-on-one hangouts that are fun but very boundary-conscious.  Safe chivalry, if you will.

On the other side of the coin go my many experiences of being hit on, mediated somewhat by salsa dancing.  Though my distrust of strange men is imediate and my reaction one of caution, I have learned that some unknown men really don't want to use me for their own twisted pleasures, but want simply to have the pleasure of my company for a dance, much like the occasional stranger who walks up to me, tells me I'm beautiful, smiles, and wishes me a pleasant day.

Back to the evening at hand.  Desensitized by four years at Steubenville, I had nearly forgotten:  Chivalry is inherently romantic (which should be obvious, considering its origins)!  Though I was accustomed to walking through open doors and was pleased by his constant presence by my side, I had to stop myself from telling him it was really too much as he went out of his way to bring me drinks and pulled out my chair before each time I sat down.  I had to fight a learned response of physically tensing up when, upon the first slow song, he pulled me closer than I'd expected.  Boundaries! You're not dating! screamed a voice in my head.  But a more reasonable voice reminded me that, though this was unexpectedly close, it was not inappropriately close.  I was, after all, his date for the evening, and there are romantic connotations to that.

The understanding between us was absolute; he was not trying to pull a move on me.  So why did I have to fight myself to remain calm and enjoy his taking the lead and guiding things, as he did consistently (and excellently) all evening?  Why am I always so overly concerned about maintaining proper boundaries between friends?

I don't have a nice tying-things-together paragraph to end things.  I'm still trying to figure this one out myself.  Thoughts?

On Vapid, Catchy, Popular Love Songs

I awoke in the middle of last night (thank you, hormones) and remained awake, despite my best efforts, for nearly an hour.  This in and of itself should be frustrating enough, but the kicker is the song lyrics that were running through my head the entire time:

Background: Taylor Swift's Romeo approaches, after having blown her off recently, with no obvious sign of an impending apology.  She's debating whether to blow up at him for being a jerk when

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said:
Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone.
I love you and that's all I really know.
I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress.
It's a love story, baby, just say 'Yes!'"

Emphasis mine.  As this ran incessantly through my head I couldn't help but reflect upon the insight she gives to the general-societal portrayal of marriage as a remedy for loneliness (makes me almost miss the remedy for concupiscence).


I hear this song at work every single day (I exaggerate not - L can confirm the emails I send her daily when this song hits).  There are many such songs, that are on the daily playlist.  All my co-workers feel the same:  we've come to hate these songs...  and yet we can't help but sing along. Sirius/XM Radio, you are the bane of my existence!  (For which, I suppose, I should be grateful.  There are much worse things out there.)


I should adopt W's philosophy of complaining.  'Cuz it really is very funny at times...


And if you're not familiar with the song above:  1) I am most jealous, 2) You're really not missing much, 3) I'm sure your mind has jumped to similarly vapid-yet-catchy tunes.  Feel free to suggest some in the comments.


If anyone actually used my comments, this could be a really funny comment thread.  :)

On Analogies for Monogamy

Disclaimer: I don't know if any of you will be able to understand or relate to this (save for K), but I"m posting it anyway. Please, comments.

* * *

I've been singing in organized choirs for over thirteen years. I have sung under a dozen different choir directors, and done music ministry under at least half as many music leaders. I've sung in impromptu choirs or praise bands, and I've sung in choirs that practiced for months and months before the big event. And I'm not even counting years of school musicals and Christmas concerts. In short: I'm used to this.

It's particularly apparent in a music ministry setting, when there are fewer people and I often end up being the leader's right-hand man (if you will) - helping him with whatever he needs to lead music, and trying to anticipate his needs: setting up the microphones beforehand, making the photocopies he forgot to make, writing down the hymnal numbers on his list. In addition, of course, are the technical music aspects - singing whenever he does but not otherwise (no false starts on a verse and that sort of thing), ensuring that my syncopation matches his, even along with him on a song I've never sung before.

And last night, as four of us were running through the Mass's chants, it suddenly hit me: Singing under different music directors at different times is kind of like having multiple sexual partners throughout life.

It's not a perfect analogy, of course (far from it). But hear me out.

I'm good at what I do. I'm no musical genius, but I can generally jump into any choir or praise band and supplement the fullness of the group's sound, often adding harmony. I know how to follow any musician who can lead, and have a good general sense for things like tempo, dynamics, and group balance. But my talents are usually underused / underappreciated. Which is fine - I'm not primarily there for my own enjoyment but to offer back to the Lord a part of the gift He's given me.

But sometimes I feel like it would be really nice to have found a home, to be singing consistently under one director, who knows my strengths and weaknesses, knows what I can pick up without practice and where he can put me to make or break the beautiful blend of voices. I had a glimpse of such direction under DB, but lasted mere months.

Let me refine my thesis: Where I'm at now musically gives me an analogous glimpse into the tiredness of living a sexually promiscuous lifestyle, and the desire for a depth and consistency that seems impossible.

It would be hard to settle down into only one choir. There's a certain thrill to being able to just drop by and augment the group, to fill a hole, whether they knew it was there or not. For several events I've sung for, that was the only option; there was no time to practice, to develop a relationship with the director or the vocalists around me. And the music is always beautiful, always rewarding and enriching. And besides, it's unrealistic to sing under only one music director for the rest of my life.

But what a beautiful relationship we could build if I did. And the music itself would become ever deeper and more glorious.

A girl can dream, can't she?

On New Kitchens and Vocation Preparations

I don't cook. I don't clean. I don't sew. I mean, I have the ability to do these things (at a basic level, at least), but I don't use those skills, even though I'm living at home and probably have more free time now than I will again until retirement (that's a scary thought). Sometimes I feel a bit guilty about the fact that I'm not honing my domestic skills, but then I very quickly realize that I'm perfectly okay with the knowledge that I will probably have to call my mother every day for a while as I make dinner, when I'm eventually a wife and/or mother, but for now I'm more than content to come home from work and eat what Mom's cooked for me.

Are you confused? Let me explain. See, when a girl is at that point in her life where she thinks she's ready to get married and start a family, and many of her friends are doing so, and she has no prospects, she comes down with a condition known as "the bridesmaid blues." Sometimes she gets desperate and/or depressed, but if she's more of an optimist, she may just throw herself into learning every domestic thing well, so that she's clearly well-prepared to take care of a house and all the little ones that are likely to be running around the place sooner or later.

I'd love to be learning all that now. It's just that I have other things to do and learn, and I figure I can learn on the fly later, and it won't really be that big of a deal. I mean, I have all the basic skills down, right?

But still, there is little in my life that excites passion. Sunday Liturgies at my wonderful parish. The occasional restorative phone call or even more occasional social event through which the local community reminds me of our longstanding (and often surprisingly deep) bonds. Even family bonding time is solidly good. But not work. Not any extracurriculars I'm involved in. Very little of what I do in my daily life inspires or fulfills me in any way. Sure, some of what I read in books or on the internet makes me excited - but it's largely enthusiasm of a type that makes me feel a part of a great global community but does nothing to connect me to the reality in front of me every day.

The frustration I feel at letting my education stagnate by neither using it nor furthering it is a topic for another post, but suffice it to say that these factors combined have made me feel like a bum, wasting my time here at home when many others are building roots and families or embarking upon careers or at least getting closer to whatever it is they want to do with their lives.

What do I want to do with my life? Raise a family. Work in the Church. What am I doing to pursue either? Not much.

My family is getting our kitchen remodeled. Like, everything gutted from the kitchen (including the walls) and starting over from scratch. We've never had major remodeling done before. I had no idea how inconvenient this was going to be.

Think about your house (or your parents' house), and about how much time everyone spends in the kitchen. It's the heart (and stomach) of the home! Well, our home's innards are split between the tv room and the garage, with an occasional road trip to borrow our grandparents' old kitchen while they're in Florida (winter migration and all).

Needless to say, there's been plenty of extra work for each of us to do, just to stay afloat. Washing dishes, for instance, either needs to be done in the basement (first, unplug the washing machine...) or at the grandparents' (load the dishes into the car, being careful not to break them...), and because it always needs to be done in batches, it's never ever done. Now, Dad's an accountant and this is tax season, so we hardly see him 'till mid-April because he's either out at appointments with tax clients or sitting at his laptop, doing their taxes in some secluded corner of our house (lately it's the dining room, since the kitchen is empty and we've all but abandoned that entire floor). My sister, too, has her hands full with her first year of high school and Honors classes - plus two teachers who aren't very good at teaching, to boot (for Latin and Math, too, neither of which are subjects one can BS through easily). This effectively eliminates both of them from most of the extra chores, and even adds on the chore of teaching T her math homework, especially before tests.

Mom, too, is pretty worn thin, between trying to cook for us without a kitchen, shopping around to find the right appliances at the right price, and juggling everything else in her (and our) lives. I've been coming home from work lately, expecting the usual evening of a brief dinner, some time on the computer, maybe some tv, and time for bed. Instead it's been tv dinners (PTL for Healthy Choice meals!), listening to Mom's run-down of the day (often while I'm trying to catch up on Google Reader - reminds me that I often tell unnecessary stories at inconvenient times, a habit I probably won't grow out of), perhaps feeding the grandparents' cat... running other errands, washing the dishes, teaching T her homework. Oh, and maybe I can have some time to myself, too.

Maybe my parents really did spoil me by enabling me to be so involved in high school that I hardly had time for many chores. Still, I definitely had my tasks to do, and I did then (generally) in my own time. This kitchen business, however, combined with the full-time job bit, have left me very much at the mercy of the needs of the family, at their time schedule.

Which, oddly enough, is a skill very much needed by domestic engineers (as my cousin T tells me homemakers can be called): the loss of personal time and schedule according to the needs of the family, and the ability to drop what one's doing at any moment to fill another's need.

So sorry if I've been less available than usual lately. I've been training for my vocation.