She's Just Not That Into You

Ashley and I rented "He's Just Not That Into You" and watched it tonight. Despite my inability to recall the title when I told people what movie we were watching for our "roommate date," I did really want to see it. I was secretly hoping that there was a character in it with whom I would relate. . .and then I could watch it from outside myself and observe what my future might hold.

Despite my award-winning personality (middle school honor roll), my dashing good looks (thanks dad), and my charming giggle (owe it to you, grandma Merilyn) I think it's fair to say I've not had the best luck with relationships.
Now, I will take complete blame here--because I pull what I like to call "an Elaine" and randomly start finding things that weird me out about boys on whom I once had a crush. Be it a sudden realization of very effeminate flailing while playing the drums in a band that played music that made me want to beat my head against a wall. Or walking with such superb posture and grace that Audrey Hepburn would be put to shame. Or the inability to form a sentence lasting less than two minutes (74% comprised of the word "ummmmmm"). I immediately started developing a reputation (perhaps in my own mind) for being cold-hearted. And I started finding things I did NOT want.

I am a pretty strong person. I think I can thank a former boyfriend for that one. Because I got used to having my feelings not matter that much. And I think that's okay. Because it's almost gotten to the point where it's uncomfortable to feel them without proper planning. I've been praying about it, though. It's probably not a good idea to be so inept at recognizing feelings that I laugh when I tell stories about the awkward kid who tried to ask me out. But it was so funny. But that's no excuse. I need some compassion.

So watching the movie. . .there aren't any of the girls' situations that really match mine. And then I realized the awful truth: I related the most with Justin Long's character. I was the boy. I was not just the boy....but I was the insensitive, jerk-faced, hollow boy.

That was a little bit of a slap. Especially when the psycho emotional girl who liked him told him off. She said, "I'd rather be like this than like you and alone." Or something to that affect.

And I do that.

I attract the really sensitive ones; get really annoyed with their sensitivity; and then toss them aside and label them as women. But if I'm that guy in the movie, I'm living up to my role.

Now, in the movie, he says something cheesy to her like "you're my exception" and they end up together and happy. Fine and well. I guess I could buy that. But here's my problem: I'm not a boy. I don't want to be the boy in the relationship.
And I definitely don't want to be the boy in the relationship if my counterpart is a boy who is actually a super-paranoid over-sensitive girl (metaphorically speaking, of course).

So while I'll admit that I'm terribly callous, and could use a good dose of feeling (hence prayers for compassion--which I am honestly not sure what I'm getting myself into); have I just really just forgotten what it's like to have emotions and have them be accepted? Am I just living in a constant state of defense mechanism, hoping that if I hurt him first it won't hurt me as much?

My mom says that I only have crushes on famous people because it means I don't have to commit to anything.
And she tells me that I'm "too picky."
And I believe it's okay to be picky.
But maybe I'm not as sure of myself as I always thought I was.
Because if the only character with whom I can relate is the jerk, then maybe I ought to re-examine my intrapersonal relationships. Because I don't think I want to be that jerk.

As for the movie--it's not really that good. You're not missing that much.

The Chasing Song; Part 2

It's always a bad sign when I feel like I have no valuable thoughts trickling around in my head. Typically, as the pattern goes, it means that I've made myself much too busy with myself. . .

I've given myself a pretty busy schedule this summer--which I do not mind at all. I have this horrible habit of being completely content plyaing free cell for an hour at a time.
Or plunking out my favorite Smashing Pumpkins songs on the piano.
Tuning the guitar and trying to perfect "Mexico" by Jump, Little Children because when I sing it it makes me feel like there's someone somewhere I could influence into not being far away from me.
And we can't forget Facebook.

I am just an overall happy person. I don't need bells and whistles to keep my attention, or to keep me satisfied. But the more complacent I get in my routine (and believe you me, I THRIVE on routine), the easier it become to just turn on auto pilot. I stop looking for ways to deliberately make my steps be worship and my thoughts be praise. And I stop actively seeking ways to seek God.

I was driving home from Tulsa the other night, and to my left there was a giant billowy cloud in the southern sky that was constantly lighting up with lightning. There wasn't any thunder, rain, or wind. Just flashes of electricity. In that 90 minute drive, there was not more than 3 seconds that did not contain a flash of light. And I turned off the radio and really tried to consciously pray and listen to God. And I couldn't hear him. I couldn't turn down the volume of the plan for the next day. I was hungry. I was tired. I was thinking about all the boys I have crushes on. I was mad because I couldn't watch the lightening and drive at the same time because I'd have to turn my head to the left. And I couldn't shift my focus off myself.

I got home and I lay in bed, trying to just be still. And then I feel asleep and dreamed about a Chinese family. I'm pretty sure that wasn't some divine message for me to decipher.

I'm not really sure where this leaves me.
But I'm thinking it might be time for another trip through the Psalms. . .I need to get in touch with my alter-ego, David. And try to remember what it takes to be a girl after God's own heart.