Thinkin's

For some reason, even when I'm sick, I find chill weather exhilarating. I mean, yay sunny weather and all that, but honestly something about flowers against a cold grey sky makes me happy in a way that flowers against a perfect blue sky rarely does. Rain, even when I'm sick, is more beautiful than the prototypical spring weather. When we had our thunderstorms, I really just wanted to grab my camera, my umbrella, and start taking rainy pictures. Or take off my shoes and dance in the rain. I didn't, of course, knowing that my cold would probably worsen as a result, but the urge was definitely there. Thunder? Amazing. Lightning? Beautiful. Sheets of rain? Bring it on. Chill? Why not? That is, as long as it doesn't hit below freezing. Even with a stuffed nose, I can smell rain, and it makes me happy.

Question: Can no meaning be drawn from instabilities and contradictions, as Dr. Michael said? Are ambiguities not revealing? Is incoherence really telling us nothing?

And why, suddenly, was I reduced to tears at the thought that Christ gives us the strength we need when we need it? Why, today, out of the blue, did the thought of Christ's humanity make me want to cry?

Things I been thinkin' of:

I hold onto my past categorizations too much: "Mennonite," "Midwesterner," "homeschooler," "not southern." All of them described me in the past. I haven't been a Mennonite for 9 years. Anabaptist, yes. Pacifist, yes. Mennonite? Why am I so insistent that I grew up in a Mennonite culture? Did I really? Do I have any right to claim any of those titles? Am I even really a northerner any more? Do I have a right to claim southern knowledge? I lived there for four years, almost five now I suppose, but I honestly don't understand them any better than I did when I got there. Do I have a right to claim nonconformism? Or what about conformity? With what then do I conform? Is there any such thing as conformity or nonconformity? Child - am I? Adult - not quite? Middle-class? Well-off? Oldest child? Dysfunctional? Girl? Or woman? Honest? Christian? Bookworm? Poet? Artist? Have I earned any titles thus far? Have I outgrown any? Shy? Or socialite? Words that I used to define myself by are either inapplicable or are coming under fire. Martin. Horst. If I'm not Mennonite, does it matter that my family is? Do I still identify with them as strongly as I once did? Thelma and Rufus' granddaughter, George and Beulah's granddaughter, Lita and Kent's daughter, Tammy's cousin - am I still defined in large part by my family relationships? I'm not a homeschooler anymore - I'm not a Bible quizzer anymore. I'm not a swimmer. I'm not a violinist. I'm suddenly an overacheiver - but am I really? Or am I simply trying to distinguish myself with that title - or any title - because I have a gnawing fear of normality and anonymity?

I think too much.

I want to go home and just be, and not have to deal with any of these questions about what I am and what I want to be and what I used to be and will I ever be an artist or a poet or how do you earn those titles and who am I and what do I want to be.... And repeating myself like a broken record all day every day. I want to go home, where postmodernism has not yet confused everyone's thought processes.

So.... Yes, I suppose I am having a sort of mini-identity crisis, and have been for the past two or three weeks. But I'm not sure why. It's almost the end of the year, I'm doing fine in my classes, I'm working hard, everything's going OK (except that I'm sick).... I really shouldn't be having an identity crisis. I feel like I should slap myself and snap out of it, but I've always been a little averse to pain. I haven't really had any sort of ideological or theological crises so far, just identity crises. I wonder why that is?

It's weird how much I like and respect people who are their own explanations and adjectives, and here I am, unable to define myself as easily as before, and I'm terrified. The hopeful part of me is thinking, hey, maybe you're becoming one of those tautological people. The bitter part of me is thinking, oh great, what next, do I become invisible?

I apologize for the... strange and bizarre nature of this post. But it's been wanting to come out for a while, and I suddenly had the words. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming. Which would be... discussions of zombie apocalypses at dinner and our plans of responding by holing up in Wal-mart, apparently. = D

Pish. Identity crises. Who needs 'em?