Dookin' Around

I am about to make a dramatic revelation...drum roll, please...

I am a WoW nerd.

For those of you who don't know what that is right off the bat, it is someone who plays World of Warcraft. I'm not an entirely casual player, but I'm not as hardcore as my husband is. He's the one who got me to start playing it a year ago.

It was definitely a great time-killer during the last half of the deployment (which is all you want to do-kill time without really thinking about it). It's not a mindless game, but it's not the most intelligence-heavy either. The more you play, the more you understand the lingo, objectives, and all the little stats that matter.

I used to be pretty against it. The stereotype is an obese person who never eats a decent meal, has greasy hair, acne, and zero social life, all because he is always playing World of Warcraft. I wasn't about to become that person.

And I'm not.

Is it somewhat addictive? At times. Does it totally take over your free will and make you play the game for hours on end? Absolutely not.

Anyone who plays this game is still in control of all of their faculties, including their self-control. Those who fail to use restraint and balance their lives with other activities will undoubtedly become this stereotype. But there is no reason someone cannot be perfectly normal, live a balanced and healthy life, and enjoy a few hours of gaming.

Fantasy is one of my favorite things, whether you are talking about games, movies, or books. I love stories that have nothing to do with real life, that reach out of the box and let my imagination play. That doesn't mean I'm unable to function in or accept reality, but there are those times when everyone needs an escape. Some of the best stories are fantasy.

I used to think anything fantastical or having to do with magic was evil and satanic. And I was wrong; I missed out on enjoying a lot of movies and books because I assumed something without finding out for myself. Most of the time, it isn't evil at all. People don't put magic in their stories to get people to worship Satan. It sounds silly to even write that. For the most part, magic is good, clean fun. And it's pretend. As long as you understand that and the boundaries between fantasy and real satanic witchcraft, there is nothing wrong with magic.

Back to the game. Some people might be disappointed that I have "fallen to the dark side" or whatever, but I truly enjoy playing it. And as long as I remember my daily dose of reality or two, there is no harm. So no judging.

Gag Order

I really wish I could be that kind of girl. The one who says what she wants to when she wants to and not give a damn what anybody thinks. Tip-toeing around everyone and double-checking everything I say so they aren't offended is getting pretty old. I feel like I have to censor myself, or someone will be majorly butt hurt.

I'm tired of being quiet, of not saying exactly what I'm thinking. I'm sick of trying to hang on to the image of me that everyone has burned in their brains. If I depart from it but a little, there is a giant uproar.

It's hard to figure out who you are if you can't even say what you want all the time. I'm always under the impression that my social networking profiles are under surveillance, and everyone is looking for me to bash them.

But sometimes? People annoy me. People piss me off. People make me really uncomfortable and I dislike being around them. And that's apparently not okay to talk about, because some of these people are my friends and relatives.

But what if? What if I'm not that sweet, shy little girl everyone remembers, the one always using manners, that no one can find a single thing wrong with, that is never outspoken or rude? What if I would rather really say what's on my mind, than keep my mouth shut to be nice and let you keep behaving in a way that makes me not want to be around you?

When is silence better than honesty? Does the truth do any good when it's duct-taped inside someone's mouth?

People get offended so easily these days. They want to be talked about badly so they can release the hounds and go ape-shit on them. Is it really so bad for you to realize that certain things you do piss me off? I'd rather tell you in hopes that you would change instead of not saying anything and knowing you won't.

Maybe I don't want to shut up anymore. It doesn't mean I want to be obnoxious, but I think I'm too quiet and allow more than I ought to. I'm a person too!

I don't have to agree with anyone if I don't want to. I don't even believe everything my parents do. For the most part, our beliefs align, but some things I do not agree with them on. It doesn't mean I respect my parents any less; it just means I am a human, I'm an adult, and I make my own decisions about what I believe. You can raise your kids however you want to and that will have some impact on them--but ultimately, they will make their own choices about their lives in the end.

I enjoy having friends who will tell me the truth, no matter how much it hurts. If they see me doing something I shouldn't be doing, they will let me know. If something I do annoys them, they don't let it sit and boil--they will tell me to knock that crap off. And now that I know about it, I can.

Some people have told me to shut up when I'm trying to tell the truth, because "it's better to be kind than right", or something like that. But isn't it kinder to straight up redirect someone when they're walking down the wrong road than to be "nice" and let them walk to disaster with your lips sealed? Or to let someone believe a lie because it makes them feel better about themselves? Is kindness always a better solution than truth? I don't think so.

The truth has to hurt sometimes. It can't be all sugar-coated and lovey dovey; that's not the way it works. Truth is truth, whether you want to hang it by its ankles or cover it in camouflage and greasepaint.

That's why I like having this blog. I can write the things in my head and not be sorry for them one bit. In fact, I'm kind of proud. It's about damn time I spoke my mind.

The Complexity of Love, Part II

I don't know how many installments of this I will write; they may be infinite, knowing that the discourse on such an obviously complex topic as love could go on forever. I will try to keep these organized by relevance, but when I ramble, you never know what will happen.

Romance. It can get a teenage, adult, or middle-aged woman flat on her back if performed with the correct timing, sincerity, and care. Sometimes, it's sad how simple it is. But it isn't some magic button or memorized set of motions a man can activate over and over to get his way; it is brought about by a thoughtful application and expression of love.

Girls are raised to crave it, and boys are raised struggling to grasp the full concept of it. If you ask a female what romance looks like, there's a good chance she'll giggle and say, "It's so obvious!" But it isn't, especially to the male population. In all honesty, while there are some general performances of romance that translate to all women, romance should be tailored to that special lady. What works for some women may not work for others.

Romance is part of the fire and mystery of marriage. (I do mean to say fire. It's referred to often as a spark, but that baby should be roaring. I don't care how old you are or how long you've been married-a "spark" isn't enough to sustain the relationship.)

Romance could pop up at any second, or you may spend your day planning it out. And it isn't only women who desire it--men enjoy loving expressions just as much. Maybe not to the same degree. But as it is with everything in relationship, there must be a give and take for romance as well.

Some women, through rejection or bad relationship experiences, decide they don't need romance anymore. They say they are too good for any hapless attempt from a man, or too strong to need one. There is a myth that strong people don't need anything--but the appearance of strength does not mean you are above basic human needs.

One of those needs built into us from the moment we are born is the need for love, the need to be pursued, the need to be wooed and courted. A main factor of romance is bringing the significant other to the understanding that they are wanted by you, and you desire them enough to make an effort to communicate it.

Romance is an ever-changing, every-growing, always flowing concept. You can't develop a list of concrete tactics to extract affection from your sweetheart for the next fifty years; you've got to try new ideas, new approaches, be creative. It's never a set thing, and it's always fun to surprise the love of your life from a different angle.

For Obadiah

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

I've been planning on writing Part II of my "Complexity of Love" ramblings, but something more important came up. A friend of my brother's from elementary school passed away last night. A week ago, he collapsed and during his stay in the hospital, suffered multiple cardiac arrests, swelling in his brain, and many other complications. He was even declared brain dead before a final test showed blood flowing through his entire brain. All of this, at just twenty-one years of age.

I don't have exact details of what happened or why, I just know that someone who was very alive and that I have very specific memories of, is not on this planet any longer. It breaks my heart to even type that. Were we close? No. But he was still a friend. He would send requests to me (along with all his other friends) on Facebook to listen to music he had mixed; he called himself DJ Obi. And he was good at it.

He was such a sweet guy and from seeing all the statuses on Facebook asking for prayer for his healing, he made an impact on a lot of people. One of those guys you feel went too soon. I know he wouldn't have gone if he hadn't fulfilled his purpose on earth, but there's this feeling in my gut he would have touched a lot more people.

This whole time, my heart has been aching for Obadiah and his family, and I've been praying my hardest, asking others to believe for his healing as well. This situation has marked me so greatly (though I can't say how exactly) that I know I won't be the same. I don't know why, since we weren't that close. I just knew he was a great guy, who could have done so much, and that he had many friends and family who needed him here.

But sometimes, you have to trust that God knows what He's doing, even though people are left grieving. I know it's been said a thousand times, and I will say it again. God's plan is so much bigger than ours and maybe, He wanted Obi to come home sooner than we did. Maybe that's been where Obi has belonged this whole time.

I can find relief in knowing that Obadiah is no longer in bodily pain or turmoil and that he no longer has to struggle through this messed up world. He is in the one place we should all wish to be; he's a whole lot better off than we are now.

Now is where we say goodbye to Obadiah's earthly form, but know we will one day meet again. I write in memory of him and his family will be on my heart. To you, Obadiah.

The Complexity of Love, Part I

Writing out of a somewhat confused state inspired by several things I've read today, so please bear with me as I throw out random rants and try to make some concrete sense of them.

Divorce. That confuses me a lot. I believe the statistic reporting that around 50% of marriages in the U.S. end in divorce, because I'm seeing it with my own two eyes. Through the past few years, I've personally seen it happen between couples I had weekly interaction with and in the past few months, I'm watching it happen on social networking sites with people I've met who live hundreds and thousands of miles away from me.

Most of the people I know who have gotten divorced, I'm not super close with so I don't pretend to know their reasons for ending their marriage. What confuses me is this: couples who have been dating for two+ years and gotten married, then divorced a year or so later or couples who have been married for ten+ years, then decide it isn't working anymore.

I have seen love professed and love shown over and over between all of these couples, lives shared, children born. I understand that having a child is not proof of love, but these were children born to a mother and father who loved each other more than anything. I see obstacles overcome, I see their beautiful wedding pictures.

Here are the most common reasons I've seen for divorce and I will address each one: "We were doing the right thing for the kid, but we were never meant to be married", "we thought we were in love, but we weren't", a giant falling out, or infidelity.

-I applaud trying to stay together for the child and trying to give them a sense of family. At least they tried. But if you hadn't made the baby before the wedding, you wouldn't have had to make that choice. Some people manage to make this situation work, and I say good for them. But it looks like a pretty quick excuse for divorce.

-Speaking of quick excuses, you "thought" you were in love? Being married myself, I understand the way that you express and define love changes after you are married. It can come as a shock to those still way back in the puppy love stage or caught up in a whirlwind romance. But marriage is one of the biggest, most important, most life-changing choices you will ever make. For starters, it has to be based on way much more than love, or it will fail. The love you had when you were dating will not be the same after you have been married for even a few months. Some people just can't take that change and call the whole thing off before they've even given their marriage a chance to breathe. And to those who have been married years and years, then tell themselves they aren't really in love: what?

-The falling out is the situation I understand the least. You're going to let a fight destroy your marriage? You're going to throw in the towel for something you fought to make happen? You've pushed through the little things to let a bigger thing get the better of you, instead of trying to handle it?

-Divorce caused by infidelity, I get. That's even the only allowance for divorce in the Bible. My hat is off to those who have tried to make the marriage work, even after adultery has occurred. That has got to be rough. But some call it quits after the tiniest indiscretion, not even actual sex. They certainly have the right file those papers, but in my heart of hearts, I really wish couples would try harder to stay together. It seems people are almost looking for reasons to get divorced these days.

Those were the heated and possibly naive rantings of an outsider. I'm not judging anyone who has gotten divorced, but I'm trying to wrap my head around the why of it all. I haven't gone through it either, so maybe my ranting is totally biased and unfounded. Maybe.

I do have to say for myself that from the day I knew I would marry my husband, I told him that divorce would not be an option. We will never discuss it. I knew what I was getting into, and he did as well. We both had plenty of time to change our minds before the wedding if we "didn't really love each other". And  now that the papers are signed and the rings are on our fingers, we are determined to never let anything separate us. I can't say nothing will ever happen, but we are going to fight for our marriage with everything we've got.

I will now speak from having somewhat of an insider's view. My husband's parents were divorced (more than once) and knowing the whole situation, I understand why they made that choice and can actually say that I think it was the right one. I'm not going to air anything personal about it because it isn't anyone else's business but our family's. But I do see that there are situations where divorce is a better option than staying married (especially in cases of abuse or criminal activity). So I am not totally one-sided when it comes to divorce. It's still a concept that boggles my mind sometimes, but I understand that it happens and I do not whatsoever judge those who do get divorced.

Love, Hate, And A Need For Normal

I've been pretty spoiled these past two weeks. My husband took some leave so he could have some time with me for our anniversary and his birthday, recuperation time, and a break from going in to work just to sit around for hours because there's nothing he can physically do. That's a lot to ask when you're on five different medications that barely put a dent in the constant pain affecting you. 

Giving him his military issue haircut last night woke me up to having to return to normal. Cutting his hair is something we have to do every other weekend so he looks sharp for work the following Monday, and we haven't had to do it since he hasn't been working.

It meant going back to waking up alone, trying to keep myself occupied with cleaning and whatnot as he's in and out for appointments or lunch, dealing with the constant frustration from both of us that will recycle itself until he's out of the army (which may not stop even then because of his physical limitations), and finally going to bed and preparing myself to do it all again the next day.

(People who know that as my daily schedule flippantly say, "Well, just get a part-time job". To that I reply, not only can we not leave our dog home alone without a meltdown from him yet, I don't know how much longer we will be here, and I don't want to start something I might have to leave in a few months. I'd rather try to occupy myself at home than add to our stress by looking for a job right now.)

As long as my husband is in the army, he is never fully mine. He has to answer to whatever schedule his higher ups (and ultimately, the government) give him (within the limitations of his injury) and I will always come second. That went into effect the moment he signed that dotted line and will continue until his contract is up or he is medically discharged. I've accepted that, but it doesn't mean I enjoy it.

Even once he's out, one or both of us will be working and I won't have him for much more time than I normally do. But when it comes to being in the army, there's a total sense of restriction. Your man is not his own person, nor is he yours. You aren't even yours, as long as you are married to him and he is in the military. He doesn't have the freedom to "just quit"-- to get out, your contract must be up, you must be medically discharged, or you must badly misbehave and be dishonorably discharged. 

It isn't like any other job. My husband can be called to come in at any time, whether it be 7pm or 2am, and be kept for hours or days until released to go home, They can do that, and it's happened. A person could be "smoked" (forced to do push-ups until told to stop, even to the point of complete exhaustion) by a superior at whim or for screwing up. Things are even getting to the point that the military may start kicking people out for having visible tattoos or giving spouses with body piercings or tattoos a hard time (the service member isn't allowed body piercings other than their ears as it is, but the rumors say the spouses are going to be cracked down on as well).

There are great benefits, but with the condition my husband is in and the direction the army is taking, the cons outweigh the pros and we'd actually rather he became a civilian again as soon as possible. It may just be that he has had some douchy superiors and has been handed the short end of the stick most of the time, but he's had enough and I've had enough. It hasn't been the best experience for both of us, gunshot or no gunshot. He did his part, he's got the stories, and we just want to get some semblance of 'normality' back into our life, whatever that may be.

I for one, just want to see him get better (unlikely as it may be for him to fully recover) and be able to have some kind of control over our lives again.

I will leave you with this thought: in my quiet times with God, I have been led to see that one of the reasons I was 'the one' for my husband is that no one else would have been able to be as strong for him through all of this. I have been through a lot of storms and personally difficult times, but have made it through and put it behind me. I don't live in the past, I don't bring my storms back up. I've already gone through those fires and can draw strength from those times. I've allowed God to mold my character and my heart, to test me, break me down, and mold me again. He has helped me deal with my crap and get my life in order.

I don't say all this to be prideful, but I believe with all my heart that I am here because I don't have to juggle my own insecurities and shortcomings with all the crap that has hit the fan. I am secure in myself, I know who I am, and can therefore reach ahead to deal with whatever comes as a whole person. It doesn't mean I have zero insecurities or that I won't face any more personal storms, but the insecurities have been put in their place and are not allowed to influence my life. As far as the storms go, I will press through them as they come, knowing that God never gives me more than I can handle.

A Blessing

Today (well yesterday, I suppose--we've gotten into the habit of being up a little late) we celebrated twenty-four years of my husband's life. That is a huge deal to me, considering there was a possibility of him not making it to this point (as some of you know). The one thing I am most grateful for is that he is even present to plan festivities for. There was a good chance we could have lost him in March; something I never wanted to consider while he was deployed, but that I must face now that I know the whole story.

Did I know almost three years ago when I met him that I would fall in love with him, wait for him through basic training, five months of being stationed two thousand miles away from me, a year of being deployed in a war-torn country, and finally nurse him through a serious gunshot wound? I couldn't have ever imagined it. Does that give me security for the future? Not if I didn't know that God has higher thoughts than mine and a plan for our life.

In January, it will be three years since we met and since he joined the army. As of now, he's been alive twenty-four years and I have been alive nineteen and a half. We were engaged a year and a half ago; married a year ago. I miscarried what would have been our first child eleven months ago. He was shot seven months ago and I have lived here in Hawaii for the same amount of time.

So much has happened in that long stretch--things I couldn't even begin to tell you about (though I've mentioned more of the high-profile/important things). And you know what? I wouldn't trade any of it for the world, even all the heartache, loneliness, and agony. If given the choice, I would do it all again, because I know it's going to lead to something amazing. God always has a better plan. It looks nothing like mine, and that's probably a good thing.

We have grown, matured, and learned so much in the time we have been together so far. And I have a feeling there's so much more for us to learn. But even in the rough spots, I remember how bad things have been and how much better they have gotten, and known in my heart that God is truly faithful. He is not a man that He should lie and He has promised us a future and a hope. Through whatever else we may face, I will cling to that with all of my being.

God Isn't Shallow

In light of certain events yesterday, I've got a few things to get off my chest.

I should note that yesterday was the anniversary of our first year of marriage. Before you assume that I'm going to write some cheesy, mushy-gushy post about that, I'm not. It's a little too overdone and my readers and friends already know how I feel about my husband. We had a pleasant day together, went out for an amazing dinner at the Top of Waikiki revolving restaurant, and came home to relax. Anyway, we enjoyed ourselves. But this post isn't about all that.

My husband and I agreed we weren't really going to buy each other presents. Maybe on our five-year or ten-year. But for us, it's enough to have a nice night out, reminisce, and talk about the future.

Even though we had both agreed to that, I wanted to surprise my husband with something that was pretty much for both of us, but that he would really appreciate. He's been bugging me ever since we were dating to get my nose pierced, because it would look "cute" or "hot". I staunchly refused, because I considered it too cliche and overused; I also wanted to pierce my lip although he didn't want me to--"no lip, no nose", is what I constantly told him. But I started thinking about it again a few days before our anniversary, how in a lot of cases I'd read about, lip piercings lead to cracked teeth and other problems, and how I actually wouldn't look that bad with a nose stud (or ring, after it heals).

So I decided to get it done. It was painful because of the thickness and shape of my nose (and the fact that the piercer had to take the piercing out to reshape it--excruciating!), but it's in now and I'm going to keep it healthy.

My parents and grandparents always tried to dissuade me from piercing anything but my ears (seeing as they were unsuccessful with my older sister) by saying "it would ruin your lovely face". Now, I've always had this desire to be a model or an actress of some kind, and that phrase was enough to make me leave my face alone. I wanted to be pretty, not edgy. I didn't want to "copycat" my sister.

But the thinking I've been doing the past few days made me realize something: that's never going to be my life. No matter how much I pine for it, it's not going to happen. You may say "you're young, you've got plenty of time". But I don't. If any of that was going to happen, it would have already, or at least started in that direction. That isn't ever going to be me, so I need to do whatever is me.

I've never thought of myself as being really hardcore or edgy or any of that, but I've never seen myself being dainty or prim either. I'm somewhere in the middle.

Including my nose, I have eight piercings (seven in my ears). I may put a few more hoops in my ears or maybe someday be brave enough to pierce my bellybutton. I'm not saying yes and I'm not saying no. I'm saying we'll see. I have one tattoo as of right now; I have three more planned out in my head. Will I get them all done? God only knows. They're all pretty meaningful to me, so I'd say there's a good chance of at least one or two more. Will I always be getting tattoos? Let me put it this way: I'm not putting anything permanently on my body that doesn't mean a crazy lot to me and I'm not going to go wild. I cross the bridges when I come to them.

I grew up in a pretty conservative, very sheltered family, one that was very opinionated on things like modesty, tattoos, and piercings. Ear piercings were okay with them, but I couldn't get them pierced until I was nine or have them pierced again until I was eighteen. After that, they let me do what I wanted with my ears (but seeing the reactions from my sister's industrial and ear-gauging, I thought it best to keep it somewhat conservative).

I appreciate that my parents were trying to look out for me and make sure I was raised right, but that has nothing to do with why my nose is pierced or why I have a tattoo on my wrist. They are there because they are for me and they are part of how I wish to present myself. I'm not going to apologize for it and I certainly do not have to defend myself.

I do not believe getting a tattoo or a piercing in a weird place will send you to hell or put you on God's bad side. I don't think He's that shallow, nor should we be. He cares about your heart and what you're doing with your life, how you're behaving and living. I can have piercings and tattoos and still live for Him, still be a light. Having them doesn't scream "sinner" and having none doesn't say "saved". I know pastors, leaders, and some amazing men and women of God who have tattoos and piercings; if anything, they've made themselves more approachable and expanded their opportunities to reach people.

To me, if what you're putting on your body means something to you, go for it. But don't slap stuff on there just because you can or want to fit in with a certain social group. And if it isn't your thing, don't look down on those who enjoy it. Don't pretend to understand their logic. To each his own. Don't judge those who do and don't judge those who don't. Live and let live. Maybe the world will be a little quieter.