RESPONSES I RECEIVE AFTER TELLING SOMEONE I HAVE MY MFA IN CREATIVE WRITING AND WORK AT A COLLEGE ADMISSIONS OFFICE
- Enjoy it now, the world awaits.
- My grandson is currently holding auditions for a trophy wife.
- If you work at a non-profit organization for over 10 years, the gargantuan debt you unwisely and unnecessarily burdened yourself with will be forgiven.
- Awwwwwww.
- If you take your MFA off your resume, employers will actually call you back for an interview.
- You’re tall. Have you thought about modeling? Someone has to wear those shoes in Payless commercials.
- My condolences to your parents. Do you have any siblings that show promise? I’d hate to picture your parents crying themselves to sleep at night, trying to convince themselves that you are actually adopted.
- I’ve heard that exercise helps with depression.
- I have some extra food in my fridge that expired on Sunday— I’ll bring it in tomorrow.
G:
Sometimes I wonder if I should have been a landscape architect.
That’s what my career aptitude test kept telling me in elementary school. Even after I retook it. Eleven times.
Except that I have no desire to plant shrubbery and also I hate bees. Bees are outside. And they fraternize with shrubbery.
I remember telling a teacher in the third grade that I wanted to be a writer. She responded, “No, really. I’m serious, M. What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Today, people ask me what I do for a living. I tell them I have a master’s in writing and also work in Admissions at a college. I see them sniff and waft the air, as there must be something in my scent that gives off the fact that my kitchen cupboards are naked and inevitably I’m asked over for dinner.
But there are probably worse degrees, right? Like Philosophy. Am I even really here? Is this blog even real? If someone writes a blog but no one reads it, does it even really exist? Or, history. Wars. And dictators. With moustaches. Writing at least has transferrable skills like… the ability to write. With a pen. Or on a computer. (Versatility!)
You remember what that one guy said in response to my job and degree, right? “Enjoy it, the world awaits.” Gee thanks. Pretty sure I’m already living in this world. With a lot of debt and nothing but a gallon of milk in my fridge.
But he’s right. By the world’s standards. To the world, I got a fun degree and am in a fun job where there are petting zoos on campus during reading day (it’s true). I’m not “there” yet—I haven’t embarked on the path to success yet. I’m in a holding pattern, I’m waiting on the runway, not yet taken off to reach the heights of the status quo.
I know I’m guilty of it. I’m guilty of wanting that job in a glamorous place, with a glamorous title, and a paycheck with multiple zeros before the decimal point and not after. I’m guilty of tying my worth into my degrees, into my job title, into the world’s standards of who I should be. Heck, I’ve never even put on Facebook that I have a master’s and where I work.
I’m guilty of thinking I’ve failed.
I know you heard me crying on the phone when I called my mom complaining about the four pennies I have stored up in my savings account.
She reminded me of your truth.
You don’t ask me to be successful. You ask me to be faithful.
My worth is not tied up in what degree I have or don’t have. My worth is not tied up in the title I have or don’t have at work. My worth is not wrapped up in the place I live, the car I drive, the numbers that show up on my direct deposit into my bank account. My worth is found in You—in who you made me, as your child that you created with certain gifts for a certain purpose (Jeremiah 29:11).
To you, worldly success means nothing. To you, my faithfulness is everything.
Your child,
m
PRACTICING THE FRUITS OF THE SPIRIT
WHEN I SEE A BUG IN MY APARTMENT AND THEN REMEMBER EPHESIANS 4:29
HOW I FEEL ABOUT THE CALORIES IN A CHICKFILA MILKSHAKE
MY LIFE IS LIKE GOING TO A SMORGASBORD
G:
I find my life is like going to a smorgasbord. I pile too much on my plate and then I’m weighed down by it all and before the end of day I’m halfway comatose and wearing sweatpants. Like dessert, there are just some things I can’t say no to, like a full-time job. Or dinner with a friend. Or becoming a leader in a bible study. Or taking graduate classes. My eyes are always bigger than my stomach—I always think I can juggle it all. Except quiet time. For some reason quiet time is like that questionable pudding, or any kind of vegetable, that you’re fine with passing on. I always seem to choose something else, choose doing something else, over stopping everything and quieting my soul before You.
You were pretty smart when you created the Sabbath—a day set aside specifically for rest. To recuperate, to recharge. I think the only person who observes it today is Chickfila. Which is great except when I want a small cookies and cream milkshake on a Sunday afternoon.
But I know I need more than just the Sabbath, I need quiet and rejuvenating rest with You daily.
If I don’t have that quiet time where I remember to focus my heart on you, to rely on you, I can’t handle the tiny roll on my plate let alone the main course and other side dishes. Quiet time is necessary to be able to restore my soul, by focusing on the Restorer of my soul.
So before I fill up my plate, I want to focus on you. Seek your guidance. If there are things I need to say no to, help me say no. While they are on my plate, I want to focus on you throughout work, class, dinners with friends.
At the end of the day, I don’t want to be half comatose with stress, the weight of my world on my intestines. I want to be able to say I relied on you to help me through it all by relying on quiet time with you. But I’d like to still be in my sweatpants, however.
Your child,
m
THINGS I LEARNED ABOUT CATCHING A MAN FROM THIS PHOTO:
BREAKING NEWS: ABC’S ATTEMPT TO PREMIERE CHRISTIAN BACHELOR FLATLINES BEFORE DEBUT
photo: footage.shutterstock.com
LOS ANGELES—No amount of high-voltage jolts from a defibrillator were enough to bring to life ABC’s attempt at debuting a Christian Bachelor show. Twenty-nine year old doctor from Tennessee, Tyler Johnson, was left standing with an armful of roses when ABC pulled the plug.
“There was no doubt that Tyler was attractive in every respect. He was tall, blonde, blue eyes, and buff. He was a doctor. Hailed from the Bible belt of our great nation. His father was a minister and he even went on several international missions trips including a trip to build wells for thirsty children in Africa. And at the age of 29, he was still a virgin claiming he was ‘waiting for marriage.’ We could hear Christian girls all over the nation utter a massive ‘awwwwwww’ while clutching a hand over their hearts and we knew we struck Christian gold when we found Tyler,” reported ABC executive for the show, Pierce Klein.
Forgoing the usual mansion in the hills of Los Angeles, the twenty five girls from across the nation were crammed into bunk beds in a Baptist church in downtown Los Angeles. Missionary kids, preacher’s kids, and born-again Christians, the contestants mingled with the bachelor during a time of punch and cookies in the church’s fellowship hall on the first big night.
Jillian Yovak, a Pennsylvania resident and accountant, was the first to arrive. Sporting a $25 dollar Dolman style short sleeve dress from Target, she introduced herself with a rap rhyming the words “God” and “iPod.”
Among other notable contestants was Josie Nelson, who started her own non-profit organization that helps the homeless in her hometown of Cleveland, Ohio. She sported a dress she sewed herself and brought her own mason jar to drink out of during the duration of the show.
“We were very intentional in who we casted for the contestants. We picked the cream of the Christian crop if you will. All the girls you would want to bring home to your mother and marry after only knowing each other for two months of filming,” commented Klein. “But, we knew we needed to stir the pot a bit. So we threw in Vanessa, an agnostic from Seattle with an affinity for heated theological debate. We were holding our breaths in anticipation during their first group date just waiting for her to start the whole predestination conversation. It was better than fireworks on the fourth of July!”
Tyler sent Vanessa home after the group date.
“With no more Vanessa drama, we really knew we were in trouble when Tyler suggested going on a service project for his first one-on-one date with contestant Jillian,” Klein sighed. “They went to Habitat for Humanity and things got a little exciting when he got a bit playful and put some paint on her left arm, just above the elbow. She squealed and smiled. But that was it. No passionate encounters behind the stack of drywall. The show was as boring as watching paint dry. Because that is exactly what happened for the rest of the episode.”
When asked what Tyler would want to do for other one-on-one dates, “going to a Saturday night church service” and “a Chris Tomlin concert,” didn’t go over well.
“It’s really hard to stage a makeout session in a church,” Klein explained.
“Tyler also requested 40 days and 40 nights to ‘prayerfully consider his options’ before each rose ceremony which would have resulted in 11 years of filming,” Klein commented. “So we compromised and gave him 40 minutes before the ceremony.”
Two months before ABC’s scheduled airing of the show, a test group was shown the first few episodes. Gigi from Tallahassee was outraged.
“EXCUSE ME?! I DIDN’T EVEN SEE HIS ABS ONCE! NOT ONCE! WHERE ARE THE SHOWER SCENES WHERE HE IS SHOWING OFF HIS SIX PACK? HUH? AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME TO SEE A MAN WITH HIS SHIRT ON!”
When the test group began to throw their chairs at the television screen and requesting double their amount of compensation, ABC knew the show would have to be thrown out like bad produce.
Heartbroken, Tyler Johnson was never able to get down on one knee to propose, and is currently back in Africa building wells for more thirsty children in Africa. The only way we could contact Tyler was via his Christian Mingle profile, where we are still experiencing a longer than normal response time given that internet is sporadic in remote villages in Africa.
EXCUSES I’VE MADE TO PROCRASTINATE FROM STARTING THIS BLOG
EXCUSES I’VE MADE TO PROCRASTINATE FROM STARTING THIS BLOG:
If I start now, I won’t see the first royal baby pictures of Prince George as it is soon to be revealed after the next commercial break on the E Network
Just give me a few more hours to stare at my big toe
That one kid I knew in that one class in college during that one semester just posted pictures of his trip to his grandmother’s house on Facebook. It’s. Absolutely. Riveting.
I’ve suddenly developed an interest in rhythmic gymnastics and must buy colorful ribbon immediately
G:
I’ve smelled some pretty bad things before in my life. Like my used sports bra when left too long without ventilation in my gym bag. Or some of that brown cheese from the fancy cheese aisle in the grocery store.
I’ve never smelled whale vomit before, but I’m pretty sure it’s a combination of that brown cheese fraternizing with my sports bra in my gym bag.
I guess you could call me Joan. Maybe Joanie. Possibly even Jonahette. You know I’m just a crazy, single Christian girl that has run in the opposite direction every time you’ve nudged me to start this writing project.
I know my disobedience is as shocking as milk coming from cows.
And no amount of ribbon can make me look remotely rhythmic.
I know you could have easily had me swallowed up by Shamu or a really fat dolphin, but alas, you’ve kept me on dry land to come to my senses. But I know I stand before you reeking of a stench like Jonah’s whale vomit after being barfed up by the whale. Like Jonah, I’m trying to right the wrongs and run towards you after spending so much time running away from your call. Like Jonah, I’m not sure if I’ll know what to say. Like Jonah, I know you’ve promised to meet me here and give me the words. All I have to do is show up.
So I’m trying, attempting, to obey. I’m showing up.
Thanks for meeting me here.
Your child,
m









