p.s. a novel update

WARNING: SPOILERS!!!!!

I mentioned this on my Facebook status yesterday (as though Facebook had so Terribly Important A Significance in the Grand Scheme of Things), but thought I should record it here as well:

Yesterday (having been Wednesday), I finished Chapter 31.

The following, however, has not yet graced a Facebook status line:

Today (having been, and still being, Thursday), I wrote the climax to my novel.

As in, the big bang that happens when all the threads and action finally come together and some people die and some people live and a bunch of bad guys get killed off and the heroine has a this-is-seriously-going-to-mess-up-or-totally-fix-my-life kind of moment. As in, pretty much everything that has happened previously has been Leading Up To This Moment, which makes it a fairly significant moment in the Grand Scheme of Novelizing Things.

Not to give away any of the good parts, but there was also the incident of someone's face getting melted off. Don't worry, it was one of the bad guys. I kind of enjoyed writing that part, especially because I didn't know it was going to happen before it happened.

Ooh, ooh, and there was a major time paradox, too! Kind of like the one Doc warns Marty about. Things exploded. A good time was had by all.

Well, not by some of the characters. The ones involved in the explosion.

I liked it.

Ooh, and when I wrote the part with the heroine and her sister, I made myself cry. That doesn't happen very often. It was emotionally very draining. But cathartic, in a weird sort of way, especially because I don't have a sister.

As you might be able to tell, all this has me as excited as a five-year-old on purple crack.

Writing swings my verge. It really does.

my transition meltdown. let me show you it.

I ought to be getting in bed right now. I've actually not been doing half bad about keeping to a regular sleep schedule lately. I'd hate to mess it up just because of a little case of RRRCS. Reverse Reverse Reverse Culture Shock. But as I was about to shut down the taplop, I realized I simply didn't want to go to sleep without blogging about this first.

Don't let the sun go down on your culture shock. Isn't that how the scripture goes?

Anyway...

I've been feeling edgy the last few days. Partially because of hormones--I'll spare you those details. But even if it is hormone-related, that doesn't make the emotions any less valid.

So. Edginess. Still, okay. Then came a couple of phone calls yesterday. Well-meant, and ordinarily not something I'd react to adversely. But I came away from them feeling inadequate, untrustworthy, weak, and foolish (notably, not by the callers' doing). I don't need to say that this did nothing to take the edge off the edge. So I won't say it.

Today, I got an email from our dear friend Elsa, reporting on the latest ETM class that took place last week. And there was a photo, too. Not only that, but there was a meeting over the past weekend for *all* the ETM participants *ever*.

I took one look at that photo, read the first line of Elsa's email, and promptly started bawling.

I should have been there, was what I was thinking. I wanted to be there. Desperately. But I couldn't be there. And I suddenly felt like I was wholly and irrevocably in the wrong place.

Shortly thereafter, I called my parents to talk about something totally unrelated, ended up misunderstanding something Daddy said and getting upset all over again, and then bawling to both him and Mama. Later, Jennifer came for coffee, and I bawled to her. Then Isaac arrived, and I bawled to him, too.

By the time Ed got home, I was all cried out. Besides, just seeing him made me feel better. Later, Jennifer and I went for a walk and a talk, and that helped a lot, too.

I don't *really* think I'm in the wrong place. I'm not *truly* dissatisfied with where I am in life and why and whatnot. That might be how I feel right now, but I know it's not so. The feelings are valid, but they aren't a reflection of reality. They're simply part of the transition process.

So eventually, I'll be okay. Today was just a rough day. I've known for awhile it was coming. But, like the day I cried in Buy-for-Less, I didn't expect it on a particular day. It's impossible to predict what will trigger it.

Tomorrow evening, I'm supposed to substitute teach a Ladies' Class. On personal evangelism. You know, that thing I did fulltime in Chemnitz. That thing I believe is part of the definition of "Christian." I hope I can get through the class. With God's help, I know I can. But only if I let him take care of the transition-emotions. And I'm not sure I'm ready to let go of them and let him, yet.

Blech.

I don't like this.

I think I might do some painting this week.

That's all. I feel better now. :o)

echoes from the randomness

A Brief History of the Life and Times of the Winsome Wench in Her Weirdness...

I wouldn't say that Ed and I were desperate up until Monday morning. Yes, we were very, very busy, and yes, we had no downtime, and yes, we were rather concerned that we wouldn't have time to get it all done...... But all things considered, I don't think we were desperate. I'd say we weren't even frantic. We were just very, very busy. And tired. Did I mention tired?

But when you compare International Moving Adventure 2007 with International Moving Adventure 2001, the 2007 version is going much more smoothly. In 2001, when we moved to Chemnitz, we had no clue what we were doing. The night before the movers came, we stayed up working in the apartment until 3 a.m. This time, we were in bed at midnight the night before the movers came. Some might think that a 3 hour difference does not great progress show (thank you, Yoda)... But in 2001, we also had an entire room marked "Do Not Enter" while the movers were working, a large room full of stuff that we had to get rid of after they left. This time, in 2007, we had only about half of a medium-sized room of leftovers. Plus, this time, there's our general feeling of preparedness resulting from having started this process 8 months before the move instead of 6 weeks before. ;o)

Anyway....Monday morning, the movers arrived, brought their packing materials upstairs, built some cardboard boxes, and started packing. And suddenly, Ed and I had nothing to do. We weren't allowed to help them pack, because the insurance only covers our belongings if the movers are the ones who packed the boxes. There was nothing more to organize, nothing more to sort, nothing more to throw out. All we could do was sit and watch as these five strangers entered our space, went through our things, put all our things in boxes, and took them away.

I was tired. I was relieved that I didn't have to pack it all myself. I was excited. I was sad. I was amused by the banter of the men as they worked. I was nervous when one dude started packing up my oil paintings. I hovered and made him nervous, so I forced myself to go sit in the living room and let the poor man do his job. I was glad that we were finally getting this step of the process out of the way. I was numb from the back-and-forth motion of this emotional roller coaster.

Tuesday afternoon, when they started taking the last of the boxes downstairs and packing them into the 20-foot container, I thought I was going to cry. We finished up paperwork, tipped the guys, and watched as they drove away. They honked and waved, and we laughed. Then we went back upstairs. I looked around the emptiness of our apartment, and all I wanted to do was get out of there. It didn't feel like home anymore. Later that evening, when we were coming home from Tuesday night Bible study, I started to cry because we couldn't go home and I felt homesick, and all I wanted to do was go home.

Have I mentioned the emotional roller coaster?

The last few days have been more of the same, but much less intense. In Germany, renters are required to paint the apartment before they move out, so we've been working on getting that started. Today was the first real work day, and thanks to multiple helping hands, the stairwell is clean, and three rooms are completely finished. Three down, three to go. The best part is that our landlady intends to have all the carpets but one ripped out, so we only have to worry about protecting the one. We can smear paint all over the rest, which speeds up our work considerably. Yay for practicality.

Since Monday, we've been living over at Karen's (aka KarenCamp). It feels funny to "come home" over here now instead of to our own apartment. Pippin seems to be adjusting well, although she's having difficulty with the Stay Off the Table Rule. She's really enjoying the ground-floor windows. For her sake, it would be nice if we could find a ground-floor place in Oklahoma City. But that's another story for a future time.

I think I've rambled on enough for now. In short, we're busy, we're tired, we're of very mixed emotions, we're enjoying the "last times" we're spending with various people. All of this, of course, is reinforcing in me the knowledge and the sense that I am truly at home nowhere on this earth. My citizenship, my allegiance, my home is heaven. Perhaps God has led me to this rootless, often-moving, TCK life because he knows that I need it; perhaps I need it so that I will know where my true refuge and sanctuary and comfort is.

Check out 2. Corinthians 4:18 and Philippians 3:20. God says it better than I can.

weird...just weird

So sometimes, as I'm getting ready to "close up shop" at the end of the day (i.e. shut down the computer, because the last thing I usually do before getting ready for bed is check email), a peculiar feeling creeps up on me. It's one that seems to be of the melancholy variety...but it's always coupled with this sense of anticipation. I feel melancholy and almost as though I need to stay online *just a few more minutes* because I'm waiting for something. And then I find myself piddling around the Internet, looking at blogs and other similar sites and wondering about people.

I dunno. It's just weird. If you know me at all, you know that I don't like to read too much into feelings; meaning that I don't believe that just because I'm experiencing a certain emotion, it means that some cosmic event is afoot. I don't know why I get this weird feeling sometimes, but I won't claim it's because I have some kind of spiritual extra-sensory perception that something momentous is imminent.

Maybe I'm subconsciously hoping for something I know won't happen.

Or maybe I'm just tired.

Or maybe I'm just losing my mind. ;o)

reviewing the day

If you ever read my blog continuously, Gentle Reader, you already know that it is mainly a repository for whatever random thoughts are coursing through my head at a given blogging moment. I tend not to write anything about what I do on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis. Tonight, however, just for fun, I thought I'd make an exception and blog about my day. ;o)

This morning, Ed and I took our bikes and rode the train 20 minutes to Steffen's house. Steffen is one of the leaders in the Chemnitz church, and he is teaching Ed and me New Testament Greek. We're getting into the section of lessons in which we start learning the exceptions to all the rules we've covered so far. This is fun, yet extremely hard. It makes me want to decline to decline nouns, you might say. ;o) However, I'm still having a good time with it. I love languages!

After Greek, we rode our bikes downtown and had lunch at Kervansaray. Huge crowd, so Joe was busy and we didn't get to chat with him. (We have invited him and his wife over for dinner, by the way. But he has to work every night except Sunday, and that's family night for them. So we're in a quandary on that one. I'll keep you posted.)

This is getting longer than I wanted it to be, so here's the rest of the day in brief:

After lunch, Ed went to Leipzig with Larry. I ran some errands; rode my bike 35 minutes to get home; had a half hour of downtime; rode the train *back* downtown to meet Vanessa so we could go to the Max Klinger art exhibit (incredible! I am so inspired to sit down and draw and paint and do neat creative stuff!); rode the Straßenbahn (tram) and bus back home; spent five minutes changing clothes; then went across the street to the physical therapy place for one hour of pilates, followed by one hour of yoga. Came home totally wiped out (arriving home at the same time as Ed) and made the very unhealthy move of eating supper at 9:30pm while watching "Lost".

And Wednesdays are supposed to be my day off. Ha! ;o)

Might sound crazy, but I feel good. Now I'm going to go use my Nasendusche ("nose shower"; aka flushing my sinuses with salt water) and go to bed. Gute Nacht!

minor stuff; Dream #93 in online translator mode

Long day of researching, I'm tired, I will try to answer all newest comments as soon as possible, I'm sorry for this run-on sentence; and in the meantime, here's a fun something that I wrote as a draft awhile back but didn't publish; enjoy:

Dream #93

I Rejoice Me Just, That The House Not Burned Down

recorded June 21, 2006

Once at night about several weeks, dream I can recollect is not finished with someone, a cigarette lighting, and I could smell in a smoke. Then the dream came to an end, and I woke up, but I could smell in a smoke. I lay there since the several moments, convinced, that the smell was prolongation of dream and would disappear at any moment. Some moments went, but the smell did not dissipate. I was declined and shook awake Ed. " Ed! Whether you Smell in a smoke? I smell in a smoke!"

I heard it, in a gloom smelling. Then it spoke, "Is not present, I not smell in what. Come back to sleep. " And it again rolled to itself.

I understood, that now I also could not smell on it more. I laid down again, already in a dream receding, hoping, that Ed really had no also our apartment on fire was. But until then I have lowered already too far back to a dream to rise and check things.

a health update, wheeeeee

 
Well, I'm still toiling on, toiling on, fighting with my stupid-kinupid sinuses. The infection doesn't seem to be getting any worse, but I don't seem to be improving much, either. I'm still taking all sorts of decongestants--herbal and medicated. So those, combined with the gunk in my head, have me totally wired so I can't rest, as well as feeling like there are about a gajillion insects running around the inside of my skull with their tiny little insect feet. And underneath my cheekbones. Gah. 

Really, I'm thinking I probably should've gone to the doctor today. However, she can't do anything for me that I'm not already doing for myself......except prescribe antibiotics. And I am SO TIRED OF THOSE. It can't be healthy to spend 5 to 7 weeks out of the year on antibiotics. After a week's dose, it takes me a month to recover. And I'm just tired of that. 

I am just so tired. 

Kendra flies back to the States tomorrow, so I asked her to come over this afternoon. I'm glad she chose to do so, in spite of the attendant risks of bacterial contamination and contagion and such. This was really the first time we got to sit down and chat. (I did my best to ignore aforesaid insects in skull.) We had a really good time together, in spite of the fact that I poured her coffee into the mug that already contained two packets of my elderberry-and-honey-Vitamin-C powder. Fortunately, I realized my mistake before she downed a gulp. We both tasted it and determined that the concoction probably wouldn't sell in stores. 

In other news, I can't find my camera. I had it with me at the church building on New Year's, and I can't recall seeing it since. (Of course, with all the gunk in my head, it's a wonder I can recall anything at all; see previous paragraph on coffee mishaps.) Ed looked at the building today and couldn't find it; asked around, but nobody has seen it. I've decided that in spite of our thorough apartment searches, the elusive camera must be somewhere in the apartment. I'm really antsy about it (pun intended!), since it has a bunch of pictures on it. Not to mention that said pics are saved on my brand-new 1 gig memory stick. 

*sigh* If the camera goes the way of the many earrings, scarves, and umbrellas I've misplaced over the years, I'm gonna be seriously ticked.

another excerpt from Courtney's journal

November 11, 2004

The following lyrics are Sting’s song “Dead Man’s Rope” from his Sacred Love album. This album will never be my favorite—it’s too “techno,” too synthesized, not enough variety to suit me. But this song has really touched me deeply. Here are the lyrics, and then my comments:

A million footsteps, this left foot drags behind my right
But I keep walking, from daybreak 'til the falling night
And as days turn into weeks and years
And years turn into lifetimes
I just keep walking, like I've been walking for a thousand years

Walk away in emptiness, walk away in sorrow,
Walk away from yesterday, walk away tomorrow,

If you're walking to escape, to escape from your affliction
You'd be walking in a great circle, a circle of addiction
Did you ever wonder what you'd been carrying since the world was black?
You see yourself in a looking glass with a tombstone on your back

Walk away in emptiness, walk away in sorrow,
Walk away from yesterday, walk away tomorrow,
Walk away in anger, walk away in pain
Walk away from life itself, walk into the rain

All this wandering has led me to this place
Inside the well of my memory, sweet rain of forgiveness
I'm just hanging here in space

Now I'm suspended between my darkest fears and dearest hope
Yes I've been walking, now I'm hanging from a dead man's rope
With Hell below me, and Heaven in the sky above
I've been walking, I've been walking away from Jesus' love

Walk away in emptiness, walk away in sorrow,
Walk away from yesterday, walk away tomorrow,
Walk away in anger, walk away in pain
Walk away from life itself, walk into the rain

All this wandering has led me to this place
Inside the well of my memory, sweet rain of forgiveness
I'm just hanging here in space

The shadows fall
Around my bed
When the hand of an angel,
The hand of an angel is reaching down above my head

All this wandering has led me to this place
Inside the well of my memory, sweet rain of forgiveness
Now I'm walking in his grace
I'm walking in his footsteps
Walking in his footsteps,
Walking in his footsteps

All the days of my life I will walk with you
All the days of my life I will talk with you
All the days of my life I will share with you
All the days of my life I will bear with you

Walk away from emptiness, walk away from sorrow,
Walk away from yesterday, walk away tomorrow,
Walk away from anger, walk away from pain
Walk away from anguish, walk into the rain.

--Sting
“Dead Man’s Rope”

Earlier, for the first time, I listened to this song while reading the lyrics. I don’t know why—maybe because I’m tired, maybe because I’ve felt pressured from many sides lately, maybe because I’ve been doubting self and most people around me lately—but as I sat there, reading and listening, I started crying. The crying turned into outright sobbing, and I just sat here with tears running down my face...

...[T]hat’s what it is to walk into the Lord’s embrace. It means walking away from emptiness, sorrow, yesterday, pain, anger, anguish, from life itself. It means that all my life, Jesus will walk with me, talk with me, share with me, bear with me. And I’ve felt this way for so long: that I’m suspended somewhere, in between somewhere, heaven above me, and the past—my sin, which creates hell for me—below me. I’m waiting on Jesus to fold me to him and hide my soul forever in the cleft of the rock, protected forever from everything. I am walking in his grace, because he has saved me.