It’s the raw food.

“Sushi?” somebody asked me once. “Sushi and abstract art?”

No, no, no, silly. Not sushi. When I talk about raw food, I talk about greens and green juices, green smoothies, sprouted grains, nuts, seeds. I talk about living from the Earth, and – if you go 100% – going vegan.

Ha! Arleen the vegan. Very funny, and almost certainly impossible. Milk is good. Steak is the man. I love chicken, cheese and chocolate. But I believe none are necessarily necessary for survival.

I like the simplicity of raw foodism. I like eating to sustain. I like that Whitwam, from my Glass Onion story, said that when you give your body what it needs, your body knows what to do. And I believe that. But I believe some bodies might need meat. And my body might be one of them, lol.

So far, I’ve managed to sneak in a single raw meal a day: breakfast. At Abby’s Health and Nutrition, I get an Apple Pizazz juice (apple, carrot, celery, beet, ginger), and I have them add spinach and kale. It tastes better than it sounds, and it’s always organic and fresh (I watch them juice it). Ultimately, my goal is for two raw meals a day. I’m thinkin’ lunch. But we’ll see.

It’s not because I can still spend hours lip synching to 80s music, or because sometimes, I still watch Nickelodeon.  It’s not my uncanny inability to keep my room tidy, or my undying appreciation for trampolines.

Really, it’s because I could swear that yesterday, I was wearing clip-on earrings, pink plastic high heels and a candy necklace, blowing out seven candles on a pink and white cake that was covered in flowers and filled with vanilla ice cream and those crunchy chocolate things.  

I’ve been trying to discern; hoping for blatantly obvious divine intervention when it’s time to decide what comes next.  And in the midst of this “quarter life crisis” and its early onset, I can’t help but think about how cool it was to be a kid. Slip-n-slides were a given every summer, and my greatest goal was getting a Barbie Dream House.  Simple things, like watching Full House over a plate of cookies with milk, always made my day.

And speaking of Full House, there’s one episode that still sticks out in my mind today. (Fans of Nick @ Nite or ABC Family probably caught it recently.) Michelle Tanner, tiny though she was, was completely bummed out when Becky’s visiting nephew Howie had to head back to his hometown. It seemed like for the first time ever, Uncle Jesse noticed Michelle wasn’t completely content. So, he did what anyone named Uncle Jesse would do: picked up his guitar and played Michelle a song that he’d written for her presumably when she was a baby. 

Michelle’s at home
The cats are purring
She doesn’t know what worry is
She’s safe and warm and she’s not sorry
She doesn’t know what sorry isAnd Michelle’s smiling…
Michelle’s smiling…Michelle’s smiling…The news is on, and Michelle’s laughing
Can’t make sense of what the picture shows…
She knows no fear, she keeps on laughing
If we could only know what Michelle knows…And Michelle’s smiling…

Michelle’s smiling… 

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: life is a series of mountains and valleys. Sometimes, practicing balance and trust in God is easier said than done. But as a Christian human being, I should make it my goal to be balanced and to trust God, even when [insert whomever's name here] is sick or dying, loses his or her job, has an accident, disappoints me.  Even when I’m tempted to be anxious, or when I fail to follow through with plans, or, simply fail. Because sometimes, in the midst of what goes on in the tiny world that I know, I’ll turn on the news to see that somewhere, terror attacked, or a bridge collapsed.

Any one of us could argue that in Uncle Jesse’s song, Michelle’s laughing because she can’t, in fact, make sense of what the picture shows (partially because she’s 2, and partially because she’s a fictional character). But I think Uncle Jesses makes a pretty cool observation regardless. There is something like what Uncle Jesse sings about in lots of kids. Despite tragedies that touch the world, and mini-tragedies that briefly bring kids to tears (i.e. “He stole my playdoh!), the younger the child, the less inclined he or she seems to be toward worrying. It’s the epitome of the “live in the moment” lifestyle I’m still working on. 

Ok, so back to today. All of a sudden, here I am, five months from my college graduation and four months from my 22nd birthday, perfectly aware that the world I know is a heck of a lot smaller than the real world. There are no more candy necklaces, no more dreams of the Barbie Dream House, and I’ll be honest: not that big-a-fan of milk and cookies anymore. Now, I’m trying to choose a grad school and trying to launch a career. I’m learning balance, and learning not to worry.

Of course, there’s no way I can claim to be worry free (and if you know me, you can vouch for that.), though I can claim to worry a lot less now than I used to. But I think it’s my goal – and it should be a goal for all Christian people – despite all the negative in the world, to be for society what Michelle was to Uncle Jesse. 

She knows no fear, she keeps on laughing
If we could only know what Michelle knows…

YouTube it. (with tissues, maybe. Hey, it gets me every time! lol.)

And so it began, late at night on Friday, March 23.  I’d pledged both personally and officially on the “Computer Shutdown Day” website to spend 24 hours sans computer on March 24.  This should be simple, I mused, as I shut down my computer (for the first time in weeks).  I went to sleep shortly after, and woke up the following day, willing and ready to forsake my computer.

With plenty to do and plenty of time for doing it, I took a trip to the public library.  I walked between bookshelves, and scanned the selection with other scholastically inclined students.  We basked in books, and better yet, we basked in silence.  I sat down for awhile to study, before browsing the shelves again for a book I’ve been meaning to read.  When I realized I’d never find the book on my own, I thought I’d check the card catalog. 

But the card catalog is on the computer.  Dun, dun, DUN!

Later that day, I wasted some time taking some shots with my good, ol’ digital camera.  Hey, these look great! I thought to myself.  I should show these off.  Alas, my pledge!  Not only did my ”Computer Shutdown Day” pledge end any chance of retrieving photos from my camera, but it sent my hopes to share them with friends plummeting.  Without a computer, impossible. 

The book, the camera?  Unfortunate.  But when the sun set, I prepared for the home stretch.  Hoping to kill time quickly – since only hours lay between me and my treasured email box – I thought I’d see a movie.  That’s when, by reflex, I walked up to my quiet, cold computer.  I realized it had be years since I’d used anything but the Internet to find movie times. 

Years.

“Computer Shutdown Day” wasn’t necessarily hard.  But it wasn’t necessarily easy to realize just how much I rely on computers.  The more I ponder, the more I ask…do I really need to use the computer as much as I do?  11:30p.m. on Saturday, 24 hours had passed.  I checked my email. 

No new messages.

I think I can answer my question. 

I have this desire, you see, to love everyone like my parents used to remind me to do when I was little; to love everyone like my God loves everyone.  “Love is, above all else, the gift of oneself.”  I revel in that quote every time I read it; my sentiments exactly. I tremble at the thought of love; at the thought of selflessly, sacrificially putting someone else ahead of myself.  Love isn’t skipped heartbeats or warm and fuzzy feelings.  Love isn’t long hugs, holding hands or having sex.  “Love is, above all else, the gift of oneself.”

I’ll let you in on a little secret: news channels and newspapers aren’t the only ones who’ve been known to collect their thoughts on prevous years right before the ball drops.  For a few in a row, I’d do my recollecting; then, I’d drag myself away from Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve as soon as the Times Square crowd starting singing Auld Lang Syne.  That’s when I would wish my journal a happy new year with my very own “Year in Review” entry.  So upon seeing the first and only ”Year in Review” I watched last week, my mind began to rifle through its dusty collection of memories from 2006, many of which were easy to recall (and others, rather repressed).  But it didn’t take long before I stopped myself.

When it stands alone, a year is really long time.  A lot happens.  Some relationships end, and others begin.  We make some memories we wish we could forget, and others we wish we could re-live.  There are losses and wins, failures and successes, tears and laughter, growing pains and growth spurts.  Lessons. 

Year in Review segments are all about specifics.  You see the who, the what, the where, the when and when you backtrack to tougher times, you ask yourself how on earth you made it from there to here.  But you made it.

There is no need for me to review the specifics from my 2006, or to hold my own War of the Worlds part 2 deja vu, or to re-live whatever random clips of crises that made my year what it was.  I lost and I won, I failed and I succeeded, I cried and I laughed.  I grew, and I learned.

I learned a lot more than I could type right now.  In part, I learned the importance of the arts of being patient, letting go and living in the “now.”  I learned that there is no grandiose moment during which a life turns from bad to good with a stagnant promise to stay where you’d like it.  I learned that even if you find something or someone you’re passionate about, you will still have bad days.  I learned to appreciate the little things, and I learned that if I were to spend this life waiting around for one big thing to appreciate, I would forget to appreciate the little things; I’d never realize that maybe the one big thing is life itself, and that life is made up of that bunch of little things.

So the specifics of my 2006 will remain un-reviewed.  Now, I enter 2007 appreciating every friendship made, every good time had, every growing pain and every lesson learned last year.  And should auld aquaintance be forgot, I think I’ll be just fine.  I’ll always remember that I made it. 

 —

The jury’s deliberation has ended.  What’s the verdict?  Apparently, as was alluded by two people during two separate conversations this week, I am “guilty on all counts of approaching life pessimistically.”  But, am I really?  Well, you be the judge.

At work this week, somebody copped a ‘tude, was downright rude to a colleague and ended the brief war by walking out.  Nothin’ like a little office drama to spark some good conversation, right? 

“I expect to be respected by everybody,” one co-worker said.

“Look at the society we’re living in,” I replied.  “I don’t expect much from anyone.”   

WEEE-OOOO, WEEE-OOOO, WEEE-OOOO!  I could almost hear the sirens.  Somebody called the pessimist police.  And with disappointed sighs and downtrodden eyes, she gently scolded me.  But I’ve gotta tell ya…I don’t believe that in this realm, I’m approaching life pessimistically.  I do believe I’m approaching it realistically, and in my opinion, that’s the way to go.  Especially as a college student, I am bombarded almost daily with a flood of philosophies alternative to the ones I embrace.  Even without such a prevalent example, I’d still be able to see that not everyone’s lives revolve around the same principles mine does.  And that’s why I don’t expect much.  If I approached life under the assumption that everyone I encounter embraces what I embrace (i.e. the importance of respect for others, in this case), I’d be setting myself up for shock.  In truth, I will be disrespected multiple times (and when it happens, I won’t be too caught off guard to handle the situation appropriately).  

Take romantic relationships, for another example.  Am I pessimistically passing up potential opportunities because I won’t date a guy if I already see a reason I wouldn’t want to be in a long term relationship with him; because I won’t enter a relationship with a guy if I already see a reason I wouldn’t be able to marry him?  I don’t think I am, no.  I’m realistically recognizing that some romantic relationships aren’t reasonable.   If I refused to accept that some shouldn’t move past the hypothetical stage (tempting though they may be) , I’d be setting myself up for heartache. 

Accepting these things realistically is not the same as expecting them pessimistically.  And making a realistic effort to at least minimize the shock or heartache you’ll have to experience from time to time is not the same as running from the inevitable.  Without a doubt, if you’re a human on Earth, you already know you will be bummed from time to time due to circumstances beyond your control.  That’s life.  But it’s a little absurd, if you ask me, to set yourself up for even more of it.

I think (and I’m speaking generally, here) that a lot of us are disillusioned.  There is a fine line, which once crossed, can convert one’s optimism into one’s rejection of reality.  Best start believin’ in the real world – you’re in it.

Gosh, I thought to myself as Terri fought with the tears that tumbled recklessly down her rosy cheeks.  How will she go on?

“I’m Mrs. Steve Irwin,” she said to Barbara.  “I’ve got a lot to live up to.” 

I turned off the TV, moved by what I’d seen, but not showing it.  That’s when I got the email: a YouTube video from Sarah featuring Juan Mann giving free hugs on a city street to the tune of All the Same by a band called Sick Puppies.  And that’s when the floodgates opened.  And good gosh, it felt great. 

Look at Steve Irwin, I thought as I cried and watched Juan Mann hug strangers on the street.  And I thought about what Terri said: that Steve didn’t sweat the little things; he saw the big picture.  He had fun.  He cared about something other than himself and he changed the world, according to many.  Look at Juan Mann, I thought as more strangers got and gave hugs on the video.  He cared about something other than himself. 

Now, giving hugs and consorting with crocs aren’t the same, or even comparable ways to serve someone other than self.  But I think both Steve and Juan would agree that life is short, and everyone’s serves a purpose.  I guess I’ve always sort of known that my purpose probably has to do with caring about something other than myself.  Terri mentioned that Steve was never interested in “five-year business plans,” or in making plans to carry out later.  If something needed to be done, or if there was something he knew he should do, he did it; no hesitation. 

And I find that incredibly inspiring. 

When the pursuit begins (which, in this day and age, might start with a virtual poke, wink, wave or friend request), e-mails become like our favorite books (you know, the kind we can read over and over); text messages make our hearts skip beats; we master not sounding nervous over the phone and we smile more than usual. 

But has anyone noticed that while we love to be pursued, we only love it if we’re already interested?  In theory, I always imagined that if a random guy fell from the sky and into my lap (hypothetically speaking), talked with me once and began to wholeheartedly pursue me, I would be flattered.  I also imagined I’d be inclined to go for it because it’s not often that I’m wholeheartedly pursued.

It seems like if there isn’t any pre-pursuit eye contact, or if I feel nothing for him before I know he feels anything for me, his emails are like textbooks (the kind with no bold print words); we make scary crying faces when our phones buzz or beep with his texts and we master not sounding interested over the phone (but never quite enough for a hint to be gotten, apparently).  And to be quite frank, I am ok with all of that.

I would, though, still like to know whether it’s possible to fall for someone in whom no interest exists for you.  Is it possible for a guy to pursue a disinterested girl wholeheartedly enough to win her affection?  Does, in the realm of “romance” or what have you, a successful pursuit of what isn’t seen exist?  Or is every successful pursuit that which began when the “he” could tell that “she” was already interested? 

Tonight, I had a Dasani with someone in whom I’ve got no romantic interest.  Intuition and past conversations can’t say the same for him.  The good news?  Free water, and possibly the birth of a friendship.  Some call me a player, and some call me crazy. 

Just don’t call me for a date if you know I’m not interested. 

Let’s be honest and say that that’s just not the way things appear to be working lately.  Women and men are entering relationships for the purposes of being emotionally or physically intimate.  And it’s understandable to want that with someone.  But when someone is ready and willing to become that close to someone else just to alleviate boredom or loneliness, commitment is likely to become the burden of intimacy.  And burdens are never good.

In other words, this society’s prevailing willingness to be friends with benefits, and the sort of intimacy that some people share long before they should can create a strong attachment, naturally.  There’s nothing wrong with vulnerability, openness or the emotional and physical sharing of onesself with someone else in the appropriate context. 

When intimacy is shared outside of an appropriate context, or prematurely, an attachment will more than likely be born, creating a blindness to the things that just scream “this guy or this girl is not worth a minute of your time!” 

Appropriate contexts take time to take place, for lack of a better phrase, and thanks to a lack of patience and a desire to be close to other people, some can’t stand to wait.  And that’s when intimacy gets really good at jumping the gun.  It’s when there is no commitment but we’re intimate anyway.  It’s when ” ‘love’ comes down without devotion,” according to George Michael, and it’s the reason so many girls and guys eventually can’t tell whether they’re sticking around because they truly love someone, or because they’re just way too attached to that person because of the premature emotional or physical intimacy they’ve shared.

Sometimes bad manners, bad habits and just plain bad people are impossible to notice and simple to brush off when you’ve got a case of warm and fuzzies laced with hopeless attachment.  All you need is a little more intimacy-free time; a little more genuine communication; a little more effort to gather enough information to make or break your date.  When you come to these sorts of realizations before becoming intimate with someone and attached, it’s bound to be easy to walk away and easier to know when you should.  It will also feel a lot less like being shot through the heart.

I surprise myself when I say it, but I think George Michael (or whoever wrote Faith) was right.  You’ve got to think twice before you give your heart away.

What am I doing? I think to myself, quite often, while I browse the MySpace profiles of the people with whom I used to be MySpace friends.  Lately, when darkness falls on weeknights, I am wide awake and left with a dilemma: do something boring (i.e. balance my checkbook, do some laundry, etc), or waste time.  Oh, how sweet it is, when I waste time; when I dance to 80s music, when I watch Nick @ Nite, when I blog.  But there’s nothing sweeter than wasting time with some secret MySpace action.

When I dumped the online social network to embrace reality, I didn’t think I’d ever look back.  Ever.  But every night, around 9p.m., something would knock at my brain.  MySpace, that something would whisper.  You need MySpace.  And in front of my computer, I’d sit, and I’d think about MySpace.  I’d think about all the 9p.m.’s I’d spent sitting before the site.  And for months, I could step away from the computer. 

But, eventually, I did the unthinkable.  Like a recovering alcoholic parking “the wagon” in front of a bar and staring at its front door, I typed the once-forbidden letters and watched MySpace.com load.  Familiarity, I sighed and probably smiled.  And then, like a recovering alcoholic walking into the bar and looking around, I began to search for my friends.   

Oh, the lure: the comments, the bulletins, the friend requests…and the top eight.  Oh, the envied top eight!  But after my ranting, my raving and my pretty public denunciation of MySpace on lifeteen.com, I knew creating a new account would be an act of preposterous hypocrisy.  And that’s why when a friend offered to create, operate and maintain a MySpace in memory of my MySpace, I jumped on it.  A few senseless weeks have passed.  And during most of this time, I’ve failed to recollect why I ever left the network. 

“Any new friend requests?” I asked Kerri.  “And while you’re at it, check my profile views!”

“One request, and 64 views.”

“Sixty-four?  That’s it?  What a rip off!”

 Why on earth haven’t more people looked at my profile?  At me?

And there you have it.  There, I had it, actually.  And, if I might, I’d like to quote myself with the words I used in my story on lifeteen.com: “But the longer I used (MySpace), the more it fostered a sickening obsession with myself…”

No, after allowing someone to essentially operate a MySpace in my name, I’m not obsessed with myself – well, with my hair, maybe, which is irrelevant.  But then what, you might ask, keeps me craving MySpace?  It’s the lure.  And I’m not just talking about the pointless fun found in bulletin surveys, or the curious excitement found in brand new friend requests.  The lure comes from years – and I mean years – of having relied too heavily upon Internet communication.  Like the lifeblood that keeps us living, computer mediated communication keeps the cravings some of us have for connection satiated.  And if anyone has developed an ability to “connect” with others via ICQ, until I found AIM and via AIM, until I found MySpace, it’s probably me. 

And my heart would pound, and the room would seem to grow cold: New Messages.  Please be from him, please be from him.  Yes!  And I’d open the message, and there I’d see it: “Haha, that’s funny!  Talk to you later.”  He laughed, I made him laugh, and we share so many interests, is it love?  NO.

It’s the false sense of intimacy that’s going to take so much away from our abilities to “commune” face to face, if it hasn’t already.

Today, I came to my senses.

Disclaimer: The above scenario during which “I” contemplated having fallen in love by way of MySpace was, in fact, a fabricated scenario.  I was never that bad.  lol.