the story of your gypsy uncle.

Today, I woke up in a fog. My brain felt cloudy; as if I'd woken during some crucial cycle of REM sleep that my body would not forgive me for disturbing.

I sat through church, virtually a zombie.

I went to Vientos Y Aguas and pounded my triple iced espresso, and it helped. A little.

I went to Shants game day b-day party. Despite my best efforts to remain uninvolved, I participated in the gaming. I even won a round of Nerts. We ate artichokes and drank Pellegrino.

But...I'm still in a funk. And I dont think its today, I think its semi-permanent. Like I'm constantly hungover; but without any fun had the night before. honest to goodness, I don't recall a word of the sermon today. I was too busy thinking about my toothache and the prevalence of nasty canker sores on the bottom right half of my mouth. Or thinking about the future and what I'm going to do with my life. Or thinking about turning 26.

I really don't want to be 26.
There's some debate as to whether its mid or late twenties. Either way, I don't care. I'm not ready for this milestone. I'm not where I thought I'd be. I'm still totally broke, single, fiercely independent, over-exerted, selfish, and stubborn. I still dont know what I want to do with my life. I still don't know who I am. In some ways, I feel like I've regressed. Like I'm letting everyone down and they are all just waiting for me to snap out of it and grow up and get a real job and a husband.

I just read Danielle's blog and got terribly inspired. My little sisters are amazing people, with a zealous faith that outshines most others. Is it ok to want to be like my little sisters when I grow up? Its funny, I always it imagined it to be the other way around. But I look up to them both -- and I am ridiculously proud of them -- and I dream of the day when we will form our familie folk band and traverse the world together, as only Strannigan sisters can do.

I saw a pretty terrible movie last night, "The Painted Veil." While
mostly forgettable, there was one scene that got me. This old Nun is talking to Naomi Watts (the main character) and tells her this:

"I fell in love when I was 17. I fell in love with God. I was so passionate about Him, and He was everything to me. But since that time, God has dissapointed me; He's let me down. And now we are sort of indifferent to each other, like an old married couple who sits next to each other on the couch without speaking. But no matter how indifferent we are, He knows I'll never leave Him. I can't."


I was temped to identify with the old nun. I heard her words, and they resonated with me. And to tell you the truth, sometimes I feel indifferent to Christ. Sometimes I can't hear his voice at all. Sometimes I just don't want to hear His voice.

But the problem with the nun's logic is that Christ is not indifferent to any of us. Quite the contrary, He loves us. The only indifference in the equation would be my own.

Literally, the only thing I remember from this mornings service is the verse Pastor Lou read before Communion: "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?"

The correct answer is: nothing. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ.

And that is a terribly comforting thing to know.