April's Absurdity

There's something about the passing of time that fascinates me. It's so final. And unknown. And somehow just there all the while not being anything at all. Maybe it's because I'm so young I don't fully grasp the concept of it. Though, I'd like to meet anyone who thought they did.

Have you ever spread your skirt and twirled and twirled until you felt like dying, just to see the material billowing out around you? I love going to church and seeing the little girls twirling. Brings back all kinds of memories. That's another thing about time that I find amazing. Somehow, things are always exaggerated with the passage of time. Nightmares are scarier, the ice cream creamier. The Worst Day of Your Life a simply horrific occasion.

Things get twisted, molded and smoothed as time goes on. Like the memories that come with little girls twirling after church. Latching on to my father's Bible case and smiling up at old men who I didn't know and who didn't know me. It could go either way, really, depending on my mood. What I'm choosing to remember. I remember hating church as much as any little girl could hate church, with the too-small-stockings that rode up and didn't right where they should and shouldn't have and the rumbling belly the whole world was probably listening to. I remember waiting hours to use the bathroom because I couldn't interrupt the adults talking long enough to ask where it was. I remember my sister, always perfect, always right and always, always when needed giving me that look, telling me to sit still or else.

But I also remember tag in the foyer with the other kids as service let out. Watching the mothers take the babies from the nursery (no matter how many church we visited, I never got tired of that). The old women asking me my name and telling me I had eyes that sparkled like the sea. I remember sunny days and dashing through puddles. I remember the sheer joy of ripping off those stockings and feeling the air through my wriggling toes.

I have visited more churches than I could ever count, or wish to. At least a new one every week the first 15 years of my life, if not two or three to a Sunday. I have entered under every reason you could think of, and a few I try not to. I have been given standing ovations and asked a bit too politely to leave. I have entered alone and with a long line of family in front and behind me.

But never before in all my life have I not been able to get out of the membership question. 'What church do you go to?' is a simple enough question to avoid, explain out of the way, jump through. Somehow, right when I needed it, I was given a church with an assistant pastor who actually knew me by name. He met me at my grandmother's funeral, several months ago. And I was able to ask him with only a little bit of stumbling around if he'd fill out a church reference for me. He said yes. He even wished me good luck with my application.

After all the twists and underhanded things my life has brought me, you'd think I'd be a bit brighter than this. But if someone were to have told me back in highschool that I'd one day be applying for a school other than College of the Ozarks, I would have smiled my very best 'that's very nice' smile and patted them on the head. I guess rejection messes with the mind, because here I am. Applying for a year of Bible school. (Me. A year of Bible school.)

I leave for a land far, far away next week. The 19th will be the beginning of many wonderful adventures for this summer. And because I seem to be incapable of staying in one place longer than a few weeks (not that I'm complaining, or anything), I have my work cut out for me. Before today, next week, I have to finish applying for CIU, orchestrating reference forms and all that as soon as possible. I also have to begin my application for a summer internship with DCM in Dublin, Ireland. And write a support letter which then must be signed, folded, stuffed, addressed and sent to just about everyone I know. Soon. Because I have until the beginning of June to raise a couple thousand dollars. I have to somehow keep writing three pages a day for Script Frenzy (whichshalldieagruesomedeath) while being distracted by the two imps I'll be staying with until the end of the month. AND apply for an internship with CI (after fixing my father's computer, which is located several thousand miles away). And I need to let my sister know I'm not ignoring her because I'm busy mourning my lack of a life.

I will probably say this about most things in my life, the more wrinkles I get. But CofO's application process now seems a lot like make believe. It was very different from CIU's, which is probably different from a bunch of other schools. I love having my eyes opened to new things. And Bible school is no exception. I have to write a 600 (min) word essay about Christianity and how it affects me. It's all I need to then be able to send the application Monday morning. But I only know one person who's better at procrastinating than I am, so don't think I've actually done it yet.

I love how I talk more about my life than about writing. There's not much to say this time, though. My plot stinks, my characters need a psychiatrist and I need to take this experience for what it's worth instead of wishing I were writing a novel, instead. I've walked to the B&N a couple miles away twice now, joining another Frenzier and writing for a couple hours. We're meeting up again on Thursday morning. M&M's, the smell of coffee and another person pounding away at their keyboard makes an incredible writing environment. I'll have to do write-ins during NaNo (wah;drgleirwhat?!@I'mnotdoingNaNo.) Anyway.

That is all.