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Friday, March 11, 2005
We have a St. Ned's Workbook for Lent. The next section is about spiritual gifts, and in one of the exercises, you list the messages you have gotten about your giftedness from society, your church, and yourself. I was working it over in PageMaker and TheRev said that, if I did it, I would have to fill in
society: "get a real job!" | church: "wow! you're great!" | me: "I suck"
Which is pretty much me in a nutshell. I really hate being so scared all the time. It's just that I keep meeting all these really cool, spiritually together people who are deacons, and...I'm so not, you know?
I guess in some ways the school thing is just part of a bigger faith crisis, because in order to make this all work, God has to be with me. When I get out of school after three years, I get another bachelor's degree to hang next to...wait, I have no idea where my diploma from Parsons is. It was pretty, though. Design school does get you a pretty diploma. And then I'll basically have a second job doing deacon stuff, because I still have to have a job that pays me actual money with which to buy kibble for Clyde's headhole, and you don't get paid for being a deacon. So...yeah. Make that one work on paper. $4k a year for school, plus the expenses of the ordination process...for a job with no paycheck. So I can't even tell myself that at least there will be an economic benefit to going to school, that I'll be making shitloads of money when I get out. Nuh-uh. So this has to be all about Jesus, or there's no point. And we are perhaps not getting along as well as we could be.
I know I need to find a way to embrace my calling and surrender to it, since running away from it clearly is not working. Of course, I have no idea what that looks like. The only mental picture I get is that scene in Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle, where Kumar is frolicking with the big anthropomorphic bag of weed. And I'm pretty sure that's not it.
Meanwhile, I'm pretty much fucked for this weekend since I haven't gotten much homework done this week between the crying jags and the freaking out. Sigh. And I have to find some social service agency that will take me on for field ed next year, and I'm coming up kind of blank on that. I have to do 120 hours of field ed per semester starting in September. Next year is an agency, and the year after that is in an actual parish where actual parishioners will get to evaluate me. Not that this makes me hyperventilate or anything. And not that any of this will actually happen if I fail all my classes this semester. I'm needin' a breakthrough here. Stat.
Small steps. The next 48 hours have to be all about small steps. Getting up counts. Getting dressed with shoes on the correct feet and underwear not on backwards counts. Actually, that could count as multiple steps, since I can add in finding socks that match each other. Small steps.
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