HIPSTER in Nashville.

       Nashville is hipster town.  Literally, everywhere I go I see people with mustaches, beards, fitted jeans, tattoos, and white teeth (yes, that's my definition of hipster in a nutshell haha).  Hipsters dress well to look like they are worn and tattered, but tend to be pretty hygienic.  I rather fancy the trend, and mind you there is a stark contrast between a hipster and a hippie.  I won't go into details there, but it's aesthetic appeal without the stench (for the most part).  HOWEVER, people here, and probably most everywhere, avoid or dislike the word "hipster" almost as much as the word "obese".  I'm one of them, since I'm often labeled as a hipster, and I usually always deny it because really if I could have my way I'd wear things more closely resembling a jedi knight or a pillow; square shaped and soft.  But alas, I frequently wear high waisted shorts with a shirt partially tucked in, mostly out of convenience in holding my tummy in, giving me a "mom-butt", but that's considered "hipster".  I have straight across bangs too, and that's also considered "hipster".  So either I start wearing shorts that give me a muffin top and grow out my bangs or ....actually I'd probably still be labeled a "hipster" because I'd look so unkempt that it would be cool in an ironic way.  There's just no escaping hipsterdom if you live in Nashville, well I suppose if you go to Vanderbilt you're exempt. ;p

       It isn't necessarily a bad thing to be a hipster, but it's the whole labeling thing that gets to people.  Being a hipster usually means you're your own person, an individual set apart from the masses of corporate contaminates, not to mention stylish in a vintage quirky way, yet the identity has grown into a culture of it's own that there's no escaping it's jaws of clumping.  You are an individual in a sea of individuals who happen to dress like you, talk like you, act like you, and go to the same places as you. (smirk)  So we all know how to have a good time, so what?  Go ahead, call me a hipster, I'll still cringe at the word, as all hipsters should in heed of our individualism, but it won't do any good to defend myself.  It's too all-encompassing to refute.  Talking about it just runs in circles, and I don't have time for that kind of futile expenditure.

Jme Grey.

P.S:  hipster boys are more fun to look at than corporate shirt and ties, so let them be!
     

sinking thoughts and Retail Associates of Nashville.

Being busy with work and social outings allows me to not have to face myself inwardly.  I try to busy my self mentally and physically from the moment I wake so that by the end of the day I am worn and ready to shut it all down.  Now I’m sitting in my room, on my day off, and I begin to shake with a beaming consternation.  My thoughts turn inward, and I’m faced with the question of meaning, efforts, future desires.  All of which stem from a part of me that wants full control of everything in my life, and possibly the lives of others. Not that I want to become some sort of dictator, but that I want for people to be good, I want for myself to be good, and I want the community in which I live in to be good.  The problem with that is myself.  I am not good, at least not all the time, or even most of the time.  And by “good” I do not mean one who keeps their hands to themselves and quietly smiles at the passing people, but I mean good as in always learning and teaching and doing things, exemplifying, radiating, serving and helping.  Being tangibly good in ways that often call for no words.

I am none of that which I desire to be, and it brings in a flood of apathy and dismay, which is why I try to stay so busy.  However, it is not hopeless for change.  I often feel that I am grasping at change with slippery fingers, but if I could just let go and let Christ reign over me then I’d find rest.

      I can’t tell you exactly how I feel in this moment, because my feelings betray my true identity. 

My name is Selah, and I was born on July 18, 2178 with the A protein. 

     Most of my writing spouts begin like that….and pretty much end like that as well. Haha.

Writing a meaningful story with great characters that overcome even greater conflicts, not to mention coming up with such intricate conflicts, takes a lot of work.  I want to so badly be a great writer, but I’m so lazy. …………………….all I want to do is eat, sleep, poop, and maybe see friends, maybe.  Granted that’s just how I feel at this very moment. 

       So since this is a blog about living in Nashville, let me tell you what happened to me on Monday night at M.L. Rose (overpriced pizza place, where fries with your 9 dollar burger are extra, on 8^th), I was sitting in a booth talking to a new friend of mine, when from the corner of my eye I see the waitress come to the table and I felt something hit my butt.  I figured the waitress dropped a pen or a menu, so I look over at her and she doesn’t seem apologetic, so I look down, and lo and behold I see this monster size fly about the size of my hand.  One word: Cicada.  It was a nasty cicada, and I did some research so apparently they’re not supposed to come out til about every 7-14 years, but according to one site that tracks such invastions, Nashville may get some cicada stragglers invading this year (since the last invasion was only a few years ago, maybe 2 or 3)!  Just my luck.   Let me just say that I have an intense distaste for all insects, but this one takes the cake!  It was huge!  Granted my research tells me they are totally benign to humans, they look like overfed mutant poop flies, that if squashed would leak and ooze about a coke can size of blood and guts.  Disgusting. 

      So my parents are rolling into town (literally driving here) and we are swapping cars so I’m in need of a great hand held vacuum to clean up the last 5 years of accumulated trash and debris that have managed to find their way into nearly every crevice and corner of my exhausted sedan.  So I’ve made a few rounds at finding the best price for the highest quality hand held.

My conversation with the Sears associate went something like this:

“Hi I was wondering if you guys carried the Black and Decker 18 volt power vacuum, a hand held cordless vacuum?”

“No.”

“oh.”

“you said the Black and Decker what?”

“18 volt power vacuum.”

“Hold on.”

“ok.”

(noise that sounded awfully like a lot of rustling and nothingness)

“No.”

“Ok, thanks anyway.”

(he hangs up abruptly)

I also called target on White Bridge Pike and was asked “Are you still on hold?” about 4 or 5 times, which I thought was a strange question to ask the person you had on hold and was un-holding. 

They have the vacuum, after 40 minutes of being on hold and intermittently being asked if I was on hold.  So I’m off to pay the extra 7-8 bucks for the same vacuum I could order off Amazon for cheaper, but I need it now.  Also it always concerns me that I may get some invalid or missing parts when ordering online, so when it comes to electronics I find it’s best to get them somewhere I can easily return them to in such cases.

Ok, it was more like 15 minutes, but it felt like 40.  Also, I just returned from Target and bought the thing, but I got a discount because my mother (good ol mother of wisdom) told me that they probably had a price adjustment policy that would match any competitor's price, and they sure did!  Awesome.  This is one of those rare moments that I'm actually glad for the existence of big corporations, all for a measly 7 bucks, I'm so pathetic.  Yes, when money is scant I become pathetic, which brings me to my next inward struggle of trust.  Ruthless trust would make me more of a beautiful person, yet I'm fretful to let go of any control, even to give a little slack.  He still loves me, and always will, and that's why I will not stop trying to become un-pathetic...for Him.

Jme Grey.

old post (lack of internet) ...a freak out moment and some fun.

It’s one of those moments where you start to freak out a little bit on the inside.  It starts with a thought, a simple thought, like hanging out with friends.  I love having great talks with friends over a cup of coffee or a plate of nutritious food; this thought makes me smile, relationships are pivotal.  Then that simple thought starts to bubble, like when dough rises in the oven, but this time you’ve added way too much of the stuff that makes it rise…(yeast?  Baking soda?), and it turns into a beast of thing that’s out of your control over flowing your brain’s pan size, oozing over the edges and forming weird tumor like extensions (although those are always the tasty parts of such catastrophes, but that does nothing for the point of this metaphor so ignore that).  “Hanging out with friends” sprouts these unsightly extensions of how it will cost money, and money requires a certain amount of income, and that income comes from a job you find more or less meaningful or enjoyable (because life must have meaning!), that job may require more schooling which means more income for tuition, more coffee to study and stay awake, and that income must also support rent, utilities, gas, food, and movie nights, and a gym membership (Because I have this hope that I’ll start working out regularly…someday).

       I begin to automatically try to calm myself down by saying that if worse comes to worst I always have my parents to fall back on to ask for help, because someone with my size of pride could never beg for money at the freeway entrances…not to mention I hate being tan and that would be a lot of sun exposure.  But then that becomes another little gremlin when I think about how old I am to come crawling back to my folks for money, or worse just the thought of asking them for help because I want them to be proud of me and not see the ugly side of me and my struggles; in essence I want to be viewed as successful and shiny in their eyes, their perfect little daughter visiting them with nice gifts and big hugs, and anything less would be pathetic.    All in a matter of seconds I’ve got a beast and a gremlin on my coat tails, they don’t really exist, but I’m panicking because I’m trying to be a step ahead of everything in my life, and I find that I don’t have everything I need in case these creatures do end up chasing me one day …I’m freaking out over things that are actually quite fine in their present states (ie: income, relationships, jobs, hanging out, and family) but I’m creating my own monsters and then telling them to begin chewing the sane parts of my brain.  Why?  Why do I create my own monsters, and then tell them to attack me?  Of course I don’t intentionally do so, but when I begin to worry about things that aren’t even worrisome that’s what I’m doing.  Do I sound like a freaky perfectionist?  Yes.  I apologize, but I’m relieved that I can catch myself right before the fog reaches a cliff.  I walk just a few steps to the edge, but I haven’t fallen.  There have been moments where I had stopped right at the edge, and I remember those moments as well.  They are stark reminders of who I am now, and who I was a week, a month, a year, a decade ago.  I’m standing there, looking down at what I almost did, how I almost ran myself off the edge and into misery….and of my own doing!

       As I stand there, still sweating from the frantic running in the fog, I look at my feet…they’re not touching the ground.  I don’t see the ground, in my mad rush and halt I hadn’t realized that I had collapsed onto the ground, and I see my knees.  My knees?  But I don’t feel the ground.  I’m aware of my body now, and it’s resting, I’m shaking, but they turn into small trembles that eventually smooth out.  I’m being carried.  Then I look up to see the most beautiful face looking right at me and sort of doing this jolly Santa-like chuckle, then turns kindly serious with a smile and says: “well that was quite the run you had”.  He sets me back down on my feet, but my legs feel wobbly, so I clutch onto Him for balance.  And here it, here it begins…I feel it, I want to stop it, but I know there’s no point, as I clutch onto Jesus I am overtaken by a rush of uncontrollable sobs.  The kind that heaves your entire body almost up and off the floor, and I feel relieved and ridiculous all at once, grateful and unworthy, overwhelmed and at peace.  Then he says something to calm me down, He tells me how while I was running he thought we were just taking a jog, and how He was excited to jump the cliff with me because below the cliff was water to be walked on!  Then when I collapsed He picked me up, silly me, weak and fragile me, untrusting me.  Now I see why He was chuckling when I came to in his arms.  I must have looked like a crazy!  He tells me that He knows that about me, He knows everything about me because He’s always with me even in the fog, and especially at the cliff’s edge.  He is always there waiting for me to take the leap instead of collapsing, so that He can show me how amazing it is to walk on water, to run on water!

       I know I can run on water, I know that I can do anything, and that nothing will ever be an issue to get worried about with Jesus since He’s, you know, God, haha, but I’m still wary of it all.  Perhaps I could find some wisdom and reasoning from the truth for being illogically wary, but I’m tired from the running.  Right now all I want is to stay with Jesus, taking breathes of fresh air, being in this moment of immense gratefulness to be apart of His family.  Jesus loves me, this I know….and the rest will have to be more running.

JmeGrey

6.5 days later…

I’m moved in.  Everything went well, I was a mess for no reason.  I worry myself too much. 

       Today is Sunday.

The past week has held some illuminating nights.   One noteworthy evening would be Friday when I got to see Vinyl Thief play again, but this time instead of at an underground basement (for the East Nashville Underground) I saw them at good ol soulshine pizza parlor.  Don’t let the name fool you.  The joint is gigantic with a two story interior and platform style balcony/patio it boasts a stage with room for about an audience of two to three hundred (and that’s just the balcony).   Also comes with a full bar on both levels.

       Vinyl Thief was a blast.  The lead singer Greyson strongly exudes a fresh scent of boyish fun and manly confidence that can’t be denied him.  His voice is strong and melodic and carries well with any ear.  They sound similar to the Cold War Kids, but with a bit more “oomph” and a non stop urge to get up and start dancing!  They have a couple more shows coming up, but you can find out for yourself on vinylthief.com.  Or you know, there’s always google, youtube, facebook, twitter, instagram, etc.  I’m sure one day we’ll have an outlet for something close to actually seeing a band without having to move..oh wait, that’s called television.  #wallE

Me with Vinyl Thief

It’s not that I think television is bad, it’s that I think it’s boring. 

Something that isn’t boring?  Rock Island!  There are tons of nature spots on the outskirts of Nashville that need me to explore them.  Among such treasures are Rock Island (think waterfalls, hiking up mountains to get to waterfalls, and lakes with caves), Cummin Falls (think gigantic waterworld), Minister’s Treehouse (the trend is to think big here, and this one doesn’t exaggerate because it’s a huge treehouse, but moreso a treehotel), and pretty much anything in Chattanooga. Haha.

I’ll bring the details as they come…

Jme Grey

Apartment Hunting....wait, what?

THIS IS EXTREMELY UNEDITED so pardon the tangents and parts that don't make sense or leave you going: "wait, what?"

I'm not even going to re-read anything I write, I've got a waterfall of thoughts and they will just fall.

Cheap and Shady or Expensive and Safe?....or...........cheap, safe, but financially risky?

       Finding an apartment is strange.  It's literally ridiculous.  First you just want a safe and semi-nice place to be able to move all your stuff into and eat, sleep, poop and watch netflix in, seems simple enough.  You sort of picture this great hardwood studio, with a bathroom that doesn't look like someone missed the toilet, and the location is close to where you hang out (for me that would be near my church in Hilsboro Village and Green Hills because of Trader Joes, obviously) Then you have to consider finding a good roommate or mates.  Then you begin the process, and for some reason the stress levels rise, because we will allow that to happen whenever things don't get presented to us on a nice and neat platter. -_- Then when the mates are found you both (or all, however many people band together) stress over finding a place to eat, sleep, poop and watch netflix in as the time snips awfully close to your move out date.  After many failed attempts, blocked calls, and unanswered emails inquiring about these so-called "deals" on shady craigslist, you start to get desperate.  Now you just want anything, and you want it as soon as possible.  Or if you're like me, you begin to think that perhaps Nashville is booting you out, and God is calling you elsewhere.  I kept my mind open to the possibility of moving back west.  Of course a part of me thinks, well, going back will allow me to not pay rent for a while which would be nice, but eventually I'd move out and would have to pay rent, would have to find a job or apply to grad school, would have to search for mates, and the whole thing would follow me like a snickering cloud spewing rain and hail on my face, making my mascara run, my hair matted to my forehead, and I would just stand there....once again, finding that I need Jesus, that I cannot do anything on my own, because I'm weak, confused, easily distracted, and I write run on sentences.

       Going back home wouldn't be bad, it would just be comfortable, slightly boring, and way too familiar.  Those are all pretty much the same thing.  I hate and love how I hustle to pay for rent, gas, food, and copious amounts of vegan food and coffee.  (I'm not vegan, I just like to order vegan dishes because they taste good....try the curry dish at the Stone Fox...amaaaazing.)  Also, a huge factor in whether I move back west or stay in Nashville is my walk with the Lord.  Well, let me rephrase that to how it should be said: the ONLY factor is my walk with the Lord.  I have prayed to the best of my meek and feeble ability, to ask God what He wants me to do, we've had these blunt exchanges like:

me:  "Okay Lord, what do you want me to do?  Should I stay in Nashville or do you want me to go back?"

me audibly saying what I think God is saying (so it doesn't appear like I'm having strange unanswered conversations with the silent air in my room):  "It doesn't matter whether you stay or go, so long as you follow me."

me:  "Right.  Well, let me rephrase my question then.  Will I follow you better going back or staying here?"

audible me/maybe God: "You will follow Me best if you follow Me now."

me:  "-_-"
me:  "..."
me:  "but I'm so imperfect!!"
me:  "(sigh)"

Where are those tears when you want them?!  I hardly cry when I need the release, but if I'm trying to say something important or I'm wearing too much mascara then those ducts become a water slide and I can't get a word out.  I'm just a clown.

       Nashville is a great place to live.  There are so many cute coffee shops (with brunch!  Although I don't know why I put that bc I'm really not that excited about brunch, but I know a lot of folks are so it seemed appropriate to mention....but I had brunch at a place in East Nashville called : 308, and it was noteworthy), museums, parks, hiking and biking trails, cafes and restaurants, bars, churches, and other neat little gems like Jeni's ice cream or the Cheekwood Botanical gardens that hold various arrangements throughout the year including a light exhibit (the garden is lit up with lights in the shape of flowers and other artistic designs, it's pretty phenomenal...from what I hear, I haven't been yet.)

       Geez, am I breathing?  I promise I don't usually talk this much, I usually muse on the inside, constantly, incessantly...but I'm pretty tame from an external perspective.

       About the safe, cheap but financially risky business, (slides across the floor with ray bans, white dress shirt and underwear...... ugh -_-) it's really not that risky.  I'm just doing everything I can to stress myself out, because that seems to be a habit of mine.  I would be the one signing a year lease, while the other girls would likely only stay 6 months.  So, in a worst case scenario I could end up paying 600-1200/month for the remaining 6 months, .  It's not death, but it's risky biiiiiiiznaaaaas. haha. Yea.  I need to stop being ridiculous.  I have Jesus.  He's loaded.

------Thoughts on Dating (if you're reading this and we went on a date or two, this is not about you.  This is about me.  Wait, what?)

       Christian guys are difficult to find, it's like meeting a foreigner who speaks English without an accent (in the eyes of a very close-minded American)...they exist, but either they spent a lot of time studying in the states, or it just comes naturally to them, but they are not common.  There are a ton of "christian" guys here in Nashville, but saying you're christian and actually being one become very clear after a month or so, and I'm not the best example of a good christian, but I strive toward that...until I die.  And that's what I mean by a Christian guy.  Someone who is clearly broken, as all mankind is, but who strives toward allowing Jesus to heal him in every way.  That and someone who will want to talk about Jesus a lot....I love talking about Jesus, and I don't get to as often as I would like/need (because I'm scared or the atmosphere or people won't want to).  I'm not weird about it, although saying I'm not weird about it automatically makes me sound weird about it...so I'm gonna stop.

       I have noticed that in my past dating life, I'm more shallow and less focused, which always leads to a break up.  I'm always drawn by the handsome tall guy who makes witty remarks and can hold deep philosophical conversations.  I put their love for Christ in the closet to be "safe", when really that is the most important and determining factor for whether or not I will commit, and if they will commit to me, because my life is a constant race toward Jesus and bringing him all the glory of my life's efforts.  I'm non-committal.  I'm afraid of nothing, really.  Yet my non-committal personality is strong, and I despise that.  I know I will never meet the perfect person, and I am slowly coming to terms with my brokenness, and the brokenness of mankind.  I struggle with vanity, pride, greed, and selfishness (among other things).  So I know I will get annoyed with whoever I end up marrying, but as one pastor put it: It boils down to the fact that you will fight with whoever you marry, so are you willing to fight with this person for the rest of your life?

On my shallowness...

        I should get a tattoo that says:
"well, he's going to get fat and wrinkly (and so are you), but does he walk with Jesus?"

I told the Lord, when I first came to Nashville, that I would wait for a man after God's heart even if that meant waiting til I was 45 (cringe),  and it's not always easy, and things appear bleak, but if I follow the thread of my logic then it makes perfect sense.  If I married someone who wasn't in love with Jesus that would be hell on earth for me.  So my options are : rushing into hell on earth in my 20s or prayer and patience possibly into my 40s?  Of course ideally I'd still have the ability to bear children when I marry, come on, but we are talking extremes here.  My thoughts get hot or cold.  I leave the lukewarm stuff out with Obvious Oliver.

hmm, I wonder if I should be writing down and exposing this portion of my thoughts here.  I mean, I'd like to speak to all the ladies (or guys) out there who feel the same way and hopefully offer encouragement and hope, but I don't want any guys thinking this is my ad for a Christian man.

Time for work.

JmeGrey

Nightly thoughts.

      This month (June) has been hectic.  Or I'm just being dramatic.  I handled it, am handling it.  So maybe it was just the downhill part of the roller coaster (since that metaphor is usually used to define the ups and downs of life)....or was it the chugging upward part?  I'm not sure.
     
      Nashville is heating up so well that I almost cannot recall the bitter cold nights of rubbing my meager legs together underneath my blankets to generate some heat...and feeling sorely disappointed in the theory of friction.  The beginning stages of summer are pleasantly soothing for those past memories of feeling just so cold, but I know that soon enough the ratio of hot to cold will overcompensate and I will start pining for crisp cold air.  Oh, woe is me!  hehe.

       I have been learning at a steady constant rate who I am and how contrary my mind and heart can be.  One moment I feel swept and intoxicated by enthusiasm and joy, and the next moment I am emptied and feeling hopeless.  Such highs and lows are mostly due to my actions and reactions to circumstances, while other times they just ebb and flow regardless of events.  I may think that a life of comfort and smooth sailing would be ideal, but would that cost me compassion?  Joy?  Humbleness? Would I still be someone with an ounce of integrity if I never needed it?  I don't know, but it sure makes sense that without those moments of desperation and even pain, I would have no reason to love the people who would have comforted me, and very little motivation to be the best me.  So here I am, in a moment of quiet desperation, but I know after evaluating things, that this is a part of what makes me need love and have love.  Times of joy wait just around the corner.



       On a lighter note, my new favorite summer cup is an almond milk latte. :)  I would recommend getting one at The Frothy Monkey (but if you like it slightly sweet then ask them to add a little vanilla and or banana to the drink).  Cafe Coco also has a delicious almond milk latte, but they don't accept credit cards for purchases under $10.

       I'm now serving at two restaurants.  I never thought I'd actually be a server, it seemed like such an impossibility, because of my lack of experience.  I'm enjoying it thoroughly.  It is stressful at times, and makes me get frazzled when I cannot deliver perfection...so I'm frazzled at every moment, but it works well for me.  I can make my own schedule (after having made enough for rent), and I get to interact with a myriad of diverse minds.  I was surprised to find that I am actually very intrigued by my coworkers.  I used to think everyone annoyed me in some way or another, but turns out I like people a lot.  I don't know why or how or where I had fostered such an incorrect view of myself, but serving has shown me that my heart loves people.  So that was nice.  Although, it does scare me how much love people desire once you begin to give it to them.  Perhaps we all have unending amounts of love to share, but it doesn't always feel that way.  I try not to rely too much on my feelings, truth has a way of being the opposite of them.

        Here's the photo I put on my resume.  I don't know if it gives off an unfriendly vibe, but when I saw it I thought it depicted my personality spot on.  I'm smiling, if you can't tell, and the empty look in my eyes just means I'm thinking about something that I maybe want to share with you, but likely will not unless you say something first that's oddly unexpected and semi-vulnerable.  Or maybe I'll just share what I have to say if you wait long enough for it.

JmeGrey

I cried.

       My grandfather is on his deathbed as I type this.  My mom is with him (as he is her dad) in Canada, and it was strange, but it didn't really truly hit me, the sadness, until a few minutes passed by and I was slowly processing the reality that I will not be able to hug him, talk to him, or see him again while I live on this earth.  That made me sad.  I like hugging people.  I love my family, so naturally I'm hugging them left and right, out of nowhere, sneak attack hugs, big strong bear hugs, quick parting side hugs, and my favorite: the thankful back hug.  I wish I could have given my grandpa one more sweet hug, a soft one since he's probably very fragile, and because it would be sweeter and more memorable.  I won't be able to hug him, but I got to tell him that I loved him over the phone, and I take great relief in knowing that I will see him again in perfect joy.

        It puts life, my life, back into a more defined perspective.  We always hear the phrase: "life is short", but when someone close to you passes away, it's weird to think that they will be gone, but it's even more weird to also realize that one day you will be gone too.  We all come to an end eventually, and this is life, and that is what makes it so short.  However, death is only the way to eternal life.  We, as loved sons and daughters of our Father, shed this body and are lifted into His eternal kingdom.  That sounds like a sci-fi story, but it's true.  I mean, I'm not too sure about all the exact details, but the important thing is that death is nothing to fear because it's not the end.  Death should actually be a joyful experience for God's children; it is our goodbye on earth and our hello to the One who loves us most.  That's not to say we should desire an early death, since we are all called to run a race with all our hearts in order to bring God glory and somehow show our love and thankfulness for making a way for us to be with Him after death.  Death will happen to me, to you, to them, but it is not the end.

       I cried, no actually I sobbed, but it was weird.  Weird because I didn't feel heart-sad, but it was more of an obligatory cry mixed with sincere sadness, but not the kind of weeping sadness that I feel when I tell the Lord how sorry I am.  That kind of sadness makes me break down into rivers of tears, but this was brief sobs of goodbye...for now, for a while, wish-I-could-have-given-you-one-last-hug kind of cry.  Then I cried some more for my mom who I know must be more sad than me.  I wish I could be with my mom to hold her hand as she says goodbye to her dad, and to hug her tightly when it's over, and hug her to let love surround and comfort her, but I can't...so that's why I sobbed a little more.  I promise I'm not a big sob blob, but I thought I'd share it honestly on here because it seems to help me feel better about it all.  Not that I feel bad about it, but it happened, the sobbing, and in case there's someone reading this that sobbed too, I'm right there with ya.  ;)

JmeGrey

Desperate people like you, like me.

So I'm pretty active on instagram, which is amazing because I'm the most inadequate social media user.  My facebook is dead (it resurrects every once in a while when I feel desperately uninformed or curious about people's updates in life/past), and I've never had a twitter account, and I'm not even on Pinterest (sadly).  But Instagram is my jam.  I take a lot of photos.  Mostly with people, of people, myself, friends, strangers, family, or a lot of partial -grams: feet (hipsters do this alot so I stopped), my mouth, an eyeball, knee caps, etc.  However, most of my photos are with my friends, coworkers, and myself....Ok lets be honest, mostly of myself, because I'm around me all the time.  However, what you see is not always what it may appear to be, I may look like I'm doing great because I'm smiling with friends in a photo with just the right lighting and a great setting, but that is just a photo.  I want to be blunt, because what you may be feeling, is what I may be feeling as well.  Whether that is sad, confused, lonely, in apathetic turmoil, or empty.  Maybe all of the above and then some.  Basically, my revelation was to remind myself and hopefully others, that we all need Jesus.  If I can easily post a photo that is saturated with the impression that my life is good and that everything is going well when it's not, then I should certainly realize that others can too...and with that understanding, remind myself to stop comparing or being envious or feeling sorry for myself, because nothing will be sufficient for me or anyone apart from the only eternal person which is Christ.  Jobs will fade, people will disappoint you, new places will become old places, and money will just be an unending pursuit of things that break down and also fade, but having a relationship with your Creator and Father who loves you, and with that love doing things that matter in life; will build the eternal part of you, your soul.  To set your eyes on what God desires, will change you, shift your perspective and move you toward an unshakeable joy.  It's always difficult in the beginning, and I'm not saying that it will one day be easy, but I do believe that it does get easier, and the more we strive for what's right and good and true, the more we exercise our identity being in Christ, the less we will be slaves to our sin and bad habits.  I believe God knows we will fail.

''All of us have sinned and fallen short of

God's glory. But God treats us much better than we

deserve, and because of Christ Jesus, he freely accepts

us and sets us free from our sins" -Romans 3:23-24)

That beautiful grace catches us, wraps us up and gives us strength and hope to try again, until we see change happen.

I was looking through instagram, at people's photos, smiling faces, happy places, good food, and group shots, but suddenly it occurred to me that most likely than not, these were the faces of desperate people.  People like me who need Jesus more and more.  

I would much rather not say anything because it's uncomfortable and it makes me feel like some hypocritical christian or "religious" person, and because I'm lazy and would rather not think about what's right (because doing what's wrong feeeeels better at first), but thankfully blogging about it isn't as scary bc I get to hide behind a keyboard, (even though I'm sure people I actually see on a weekly basis have access to this blog...which is good, but doesn't feel good haha) I have to write it.  I have a blog, and what I have to say must be from my heart otherwise it's just useless banter.  I'm not really one to just talk for the sake of talking....which can be a good or bad thing, but that's a whole other topic haha. 

I'm writing this from a house that I am nannying at (but the kids are tucked away in bed and sleeping), and it just occurred to me that maybe there's a nanny cam here, so I better not fart or pick my nose, or eat too much of their food.  ....dang it.

-JmeGrey