Walking Like Tidbit

Coming down from our neighborhoods only private lane, whose residential destination newly features a white cross and a miniature trash dump, Tidbit ran a bit ahead without a care in the world. I was a bit worried about her, as we were coming around a blind corner with concrete on all sides, and was keeping a close eye out for cars coming around the bend.

None of this was a concern to Tidbit. She's a smart little dog in some ways - we've never had a problem with her going into the street or anything. But when she's out with us she never seems to worry about what might happen. She trusts us, and so is content to march forward fearlessly, even around such a blind corner. I know any good Christian ought to be able to do the same, but I guess I need a different sort of God for that.

Tidbit has other admirable features, too. We can't walk down the street without half a dozen kids begging to pet the 'weiner dog'. She's a minicelebrity... but a kind word from someone she cares about means more than the admiration of the faceless multitude.

It was a nice walk, at any rate, with the fall colours at their latest but brightest, red everywhere. And it was unnaturally warm today, too... felt like the coming of Spring, when it should be the dawn of Winter. And I felt oddly at peace with myself. Distress and Eustress, were those the terms? Living in the future may be more pleasant than living in the past, but they both carry a certain load of stress, which is, if you believe in the media, along with poor diet the leading factor in illnesses.

Perhaps this is why dogs rarely get sick?

Church

This morning my mom and my sister were tired, so we didn't go to church. I was kind of relieved. It's not that I don't love God... but I haven't been back to my own church for anything other than the occasional service project or multicultural dinner for a while now, and I've come to resist it.

It's pretty, I'll give it that. Enormous and as ancient as any church this side of the Mississippi can claim to be. Rows of beautiful blonde children and american-blonde teenagers line the pews. We have a preschool choir, a kindergarten choir, an elementary school choir, a middle school choir, a high school choir, a purple choir, and three or four specialized choirs singing barbershop style or springing from the extensive Drama department. We have too many ministries to name - from Scrapbooking to Puppets, each with a healthy membership.

And there are good people in the church, don't get me wrong about that, either. But every clear voice seems drowned out by a cacophany of 'christians' yelling at their parents and sneaking out of Devotional to meet boys. It's not just the teenagers, quite often it's their parents as well. Backstabbing is rampant at church functions. There are cliques in the sunday schools. There are five fake smiles for every real one, like a glint of richly golden tinsel hidden under a mound of cheap yellow.

You forget about those, after a while. They're background noise. Almost white noise. You concentrate on the good. You must...

Until you start going to a little church, a little Arabic Baptist Church. And it's filled with ex-missionaries and refugees, and no one is left out. You're greeted by hugs and translated 'love you's' instead of fake smiles. The children don't look like ornate, fallen angels but like children.
The food is not mass produced spaghetti from an industrial sized kitchen but a miniature feast composed of a dish from each house. And the background noise is singing.

How can I go back? Is it any wonder I've begun to resist?

Utilitarian Garage Family

I don't know who to turn to. No, that's wrong. It's really completely off. I have plenty of people to turn to, and the diety of my choosing - that's one blessing. And I'm counting every one right now - not for warm and fuzzies, but because I have to.

Tidbit just drug herself up a flight of steps. Does anyone remember another little puppy who did that? Don't ever get a dachshund. Save yourself the heartache. They're the cutest dogs in the whole world, and the bravest (per size ratio), and the most loyal and sweetest. But you can love a mut just the same. I just want her to be Tidbit again.

Then there's my family. Coming home feels like going out to the garage nowadays. Cold and empty and old and worn out and above all utilitarian. Yeah. That's about it. My mind keeps going back to a day we all went hiking and played frisbee and cooked hotdogs and Tidbit and Tootsie chased each other down the trail as the leaves changed colours.

They're falling off the trees now - right as they've finally turned their brightest colours. The oaks are in full bloom right now, as it were - mom and dad say they've never seen such a bright oak. I took pictures so that when my heart is not as heavy I can enjoy them.

So yeah, Mom, she's still tired. Tired, she says. I don't know what I can do. My god, I'm sorry. I've tried my best. I try to be a good daughter. So, it's bad enough you yell at me. Tell me I'm the reason our family is breaking. Yeah, bad enough. Then you get Melissa in on it.

Go ahead. Tell her I'm the devil. I heard you tell her that I'm what's wrong with this family, that I'm a special needs child and I've taken all you have to give. Go ahead, tell her everything. Tell her if it wasn't for me... If it wasn't for me we'd still be throwing frisbees down by the river banks.

But I won't forgive you for that. I swear it - I'll forgive whatever you've said to me, in time, but I won't forget or forgive what you said to my sister. Not unless you see what you've done and paid for it, or until I've changed and all the world with me, become a better person, the good Christian I ought to be. I guess then I won't be wrecking any families, either.

Layla emailed me. How happy that makes me feel. When the whole world is spinning, I think, a kind word smooths it out and brightens it, too. Thank you, Layla.

My grades are going to hell. I can feel it and I care but I don't care and I hate myself for that too. I suppose my German grades holding up fine, I have no idea about English or Chemistry, never do... Gym I need my make ups, Gov I should have a solid B, and then there are the two I have to focus on: Math and Spanish: Borderline B-C and H-A, respectively.

But Math is hard and I don't have the stomach for it. So I throw myself into Spanish and it holds me for awhile. And food. I like to cook whole loaves of garlic bread and curl up on the couch and read Marianela and cry. Okay, no, I really don't, but I did yesterday and it made me feel better. And I love my Spanish.

No, I won't be emo about it. I promised that much and I won't back down. But if I have to burn that away with anger, I guess I'll have to do just that. And I'll live on emails dropped like rays of sunshine, and hugs from those who care, and my Spanish, and Tidbit in the morning when she first wakes up, and is almost Tidbit again until she remembers.

A Bucket of Good News!

First off, yesterday we had our first Disciple meeting of the year, and it was fun, and maybe we can focus better now that we're Juniors, eh? I'm looking forward to the year.

Creative Writing Club met again today. Steller second meeting. Mindy came instead of Sarah Baker (not to be confused with Sara Baker). Anyhow, we had a lovely time, although Layla does have a habit of making me feel just a hair inferior. Just a hair, mind you, enough that I see the distance and strive to close it. >D

Mr. McAllister is officially un evil now! After Christy talked to him a bit about it, he became exceedingly friendly, and his facial hair (which we long believed was controlling his soul) has been shaved off! But for what purpose? This remains to be seen...

I got my job! Hurrah! Yay! Dance! I spent about an hour today filling out paperwork for it, and another hour reading all the stuff they gave me. I start Saturday, and I already know one of my Coworkers! What a small world, eh?