Buddaluvoo.
It's a code word. Not really. Say it aloud. Dare you.
"Buddaluvoo."
It started with a back-and-forth conversation. Some may have called it an argument but in reality it was nothing of the sort. I was telling Boyfriend it was too warm to wear pants. Boyfriend said it was cold enough. No, I said, it's not. "But I love you," he said, all doe-eyed and adorable.
Now how in the heck could I argue against that?
So now it's a non-word we use. Just a quirk in our relationship. A quick, nonsensical way to let the other person know we are thinking of them and love them very much.
By the way, I was right. It was much too warm for pants and Boyfriend was miserable.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
My Resurrection
WAKE UP.
Get your lazy brain out of this chasm. Wake up. Pick up a pencil, start pecking at keys, start singing again, start dancing again, eat less, spend less, forgive more, love more, and, oh yeah, listen to more music.
Excuse a little personal chastising. But I've been so damn lazy about this blog and it's time to shake myself awake from this little personal writing sleep I've been in.
I write for English class and for the college newspaper. I read only the newspaper and books required for classes and almost anything StumbleUpon sends me. I write poetry, but I have to force myself. I'm trying to put together a book of 21 poems for Boyfriend's 21st birthday. I don't write for me anymore. I don't keep a diary anymore.
But dammit, I can at least keep a blog alive!
Personal life, snapshot.
Boyfriend and I just finished one of my all-time favorite movies, Amelié. He liked it, to my great relief.
Indecisive about my hair. To cut? Not cut? No more dying until I have money, I'm afraid.
Speaking of...Boyfriend and I are so poor we literally don't know where our next meal will come from. We've decided to move in together next semester. I'm ditching the dorms and changing my meal plan.
One week until he turns 21. One month until I turn 19.
Grades are fair, except math. I'm struggling. But I got an A+ on a 5 page paper last week. And the editors of the paper have made it clear I'm their target to become next year's editor. Friggin' two-year college.
Halloween is coming. I'm going to be a flying rainbow unicorn, Boyfriend is considering being a bum. (Cutest bum ever, I say.)
What I'm watching
Currently I'm watching Jesus Camp. Very provocative. I really want to tell the camp leader lady that all those kids who are "speaking in tongues" are actually just trying to please their parents and fit in with their church/society. C'mon lady, wake up.
I love how she talks about "fat, lazy grownups" who aren't good enough at spreading God's word. Hey look, you're overweight too, ma'm!
Oh no. Now she's saying how awesome President Bush was. Oy vey.
My connections
Okay. Here we get into the realm of Who I Am. I was born without a real religion. I was baptized Catholic in the bathtub by my grandmother. (In the Catholic church it's allowed to do that if a priest isn't handy.) I wasn't introduced to the Catholic church until the age of 7. At 8, I was baptized. I began attending after-school programs to learn about Jesus and the Church. When the time came for my First Confession, I wussed out. I asked if I could just write my sins on a piece of paper. (I WAS EIGHT AND SHY.) Priest, old meanie, said no. Mom and I left the church. We returned when I was twelve and our parish got a nice, fat, happy priest. I was a believer. It felt right, most of it made sense. I liked that our new priest didn't mind admitting that there were times in history when the Church was wrong. I felt love from God. As high school advanced, however, I became more focused on homework and less focused on religion. By graduation, I was no longer attending church, not even once a month.
And I sort of miss it. I don't miss the reminders to go to confession. I don't miss feeling guilty every time I chose to participate in the eucharistic part of Mass. But I miss the love I felt from my mother and my grandmother because we shared that special part of our relationship. I miss having a place to have my questions answered. I miss the guidance. I miss the church dinners and the sense of camaraderie. I miss knowing I could walk into church, kneel, and feel something move within my heart.
I'm living with my boyfriend now. He's scorned the Catholic church several times in my presence. But he's also taught me about Mormonism, a religion he once adhered to. Now he's a atheist or an agnostic...it changes from week to week. I do wish we shared a faith, but for now we disagree on some things. I guess it's just a part of life. I'm not going to try to get him to believe in anything, though. I'm not going to tell him Catholicism or Mormonism or Buddhism is the right way, because I'm not really sure what The Right Way is myself. I don't think there is just one right way. He agrees with me on that, at least. For now, all I need him to believe in is the power of our love.
Get your lazy brain out of this chasm. Wake up. Pick up a pencil, start pecking at keys, start singing again, start dancing again, eat less, spend less, forgive more, love more, and, oh yeah, listen to more music.
Excuse a little personal chastising. But I've been so damn lazy about this blog and it's time to shake myself awake from this little personal writing sleep I've been in.
I write for English class and for the college newspaper. I read only the newspaper and books required for classes and almost anything StumbleUpon sends me. I write poetry, but I have to force myself. I'm trying to put together a book of 21 poems for Boyfriend's 21st birthday. I don't write for me anymore. I don't keep a diary anymore.
But dammit, I can at least keep a blog alive!
Personal life, snapshot.
Boyfriend and I just finished one of my all-time favorite movies, Amelié. He liked it, to my great relief.
Indecisive about my hair. To cut? Not cut? No more dying until I have money, I'm afraid.
Speaking of...Boyfriend and I are so poor we literally don't know where our next meal will come from. We've decided to move in together next semester. I'm ditching the dorms and changing my meal plan.
One week until he turns 21. One month until I turn 19.
Grades are fair, except math. I'm struggling. But I got an A+ on a 5 page paper last week. And the editors of the paper have made it clear I'm their target to become next year's editor. Friggin' two-year college.
Halloween is coming. I'm going to be a flying rainbow unicorn, Boyfriend is considering being a bum. (Cutest bum ever, I say.)
What I'm watching
Currently I'm watching Jesus Camp. Very provocative. I really want to tell the camp leader lady that all those kids who are "speaking in tongues" are actually just trying to please their parents and fit in with their church/society. C'mon lady, wake up.
I love how she talks about "fat, lazy grownups" who aren't good enough at spreading God's word. Hey look, you're overweight too, ma'm!
Oh no. Now she's saying how awesome President Bush was. Oy vey.
My connections
Okay. Here we get into the realm of Who I Am. I was born without a real religion. I was baptized Catholic in the bathtub by my grandmother. (In the Catholic church it's allowed to do that if a priest isn't handy.) I wasn't introduced to the Catholic church until the age of 7. At 8, I was baptized. I began attending after-school programs to learn about Jesus and the Church. When the time came for my First Confession, I wussed out. I asked if I could just write my sins on a piece of paper. (I WAS EIGHT AND SHY.) Priest, old meanie, said no. Mom and I left the church. We returned when I was twelve and our parish got a nice, fat, happy priest. I was a believer. It felt right, most of it made sense. I liked that our new priest didn't mind admitting that there were times in history when the Church was wrong. I felt love from God. As high school advanced, however, I became more focused on homework and less focused on religion. By graduation, I was no longer attending church, not even once a month.
And I sort of miss it. I don't miss the reminders to go to confession. I don't miss feeling guilty every time I chose to participate in the eucharistic part of Mass. But I miss the love I felt from my mother and my grandmother because we shared that special part of our relationship. I miss having a place to have my questions answered. I miss the guidance. I miss the church dinners and the sense of camaraderie. I miss knowing I could walk into church, kneel, and feel something move within my heart.
I'm living with my boyfriend now. He's scorned the Catholic church several times in my presence. But he's also taught me about Mormonism, a religion he once adhered to. Now he's a atheist or an agnostic...it changes from week to week. I do wish we shared a faith, but for now we disagree on some things. I guess it's just a part of life. I'm not going to try to get him to believe in anything, though. I'm not going to tell him Catholicism or Mormonism or Buddhism is the right way, because I'm not really sure what The Right Way is myself. I don't think there is just one right way. He agrees with me on that, at least. For now, all I need him to believe in is the power of our love.
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