Looking Back

It's amazing how far I've come.

I can't believe this was little more than two years ago. Dr. Marder has done exactly what she said she'd do.

She's given me back my life. Sometimes I still can't believe it.

Lessons Learned interviews Notions on Being

As you might have noticed, I haven't written anything here in a long time. I'm going to stop making excuses and saying how much I wish I were still writing regularly (this is all still true, but these musings sound empty at this point). So instead I'll just get to it.

I asked Rachel at Lessons Learned if she would interview me because I thought it might help motivate me to put some words to screen again. And lookie here... I just wrote you a small novel.
Enjoy!

1. You have been granted the power to change the world. What do you keep the SAME, and why?

It may seem like a simple answer, but I would keep the creation of art. I started to say, “I would keep music.” But then I realized that what I’m thinking about music, is true for all forms of art. As I thought through the various things I love about the world, pondering what I would keep… what I would change… I realized there are elements of almost everything that I would at least find a way to slightly (sometimes drastically) alter if granted this power.

But when it comes to the creation of art around the world, I wouldn’t change a thing. As I mentioned, I intended to say music. I had this idea because I can think of nothing that I appreciate more about this world than music. All over the world, people create music… and while it is different from place to place and has changed throughout time, it truly is the universal language. You can get a sense of the culture and even the history of a people, I believe, by listening to the music they create. This awes me. Likewise, I would preserve theater, dance, visual arts, and (of course) authorship. There is just something about individuals’ ability to create that is so precious… and, as a Christian, I see this as the most beautiful evidence that we are created beings… beings who long to mimic our creator.

2. Do you have a hero? If so, who? (Please do not name a famous person or figure—who in your personal life do you consider heroic or admire?) If not, why?

This one’s easy. My father is and always has been my hero. I’ve been blessed with many heroic people in my life—namely Mere and Nicky, who selflessly… whether they know it or not… probably saved my life on more than one occasion simply by being my friends and carrying me when I didn’t have the strength to stand on my own. Dustin, my college pastor, is another hero who helped mold and foster my faith in countless ways and, in so doing, also helped save my life in ways he never knew. But when asked to narrow it down to one, I’d have to say the most heroic person in my life is undoubtedly my daddy.

I feel like I could write a novel about all the ways my dad has been a hero to me, but I don’t think anyone else would want to read it. So as briefly as I know how, here are a few reasons:

• When I first got sick and Friends was the only thing that could make me laugh, my dad went through the entire series with me and grew to love it, too, because he saw firsthand what that silly show did for me during that dark time.
• When I was a child and struggled to understand the difficult relationship I had with my mom, he would take me for drives and remind me over and over again that she loved me very deeply and when things were hard, it was never my fault.
• When my brother went through a series of incredible trials during college, my father did everything he could to encourage him. And when he found out someone was making life even more painful for him, after all my brother had already been through and worked for despite these trials, our father was able to bridle his anger and confront the man in a strikingly composed but forceful manner.
• When it’s been a while between phone calls, my dad will call me up and say, “It’s been a while. I just wanted to see how you are.” And after I’ve told him what’s going on, he’ll often spend the next hour talking about characters in books or movies or TV shows that I love and he’s (often at my encouragement) learned to love as well. I believe I owe my eccentric imagination to him… and I couldn’t be more grateful.
• When we were growing up, my brother, sister and I would wake up (begrudgingly, of course) for school and as we got ready and walked into the kitchen to grab some breakfast, our father would be sitting at the dining room table reading his Bible. As an adult looking back, this is extraordinary to me for a number of reasons. One basic reason is that my father is Catholic, and Catholics aren’t traditionally encouraged to study the Word on their own time. However, my dad loves the Lord and has always desired a deeper understanding of His teachings. This, maybe above all, makes my dad a hero in my eyes. Because it has instilled in me the desire to seek knowledge… to never take for granted anything I hear or think I believe. Whether reading the personal journals of Winston Churchill to better understand a man he admires or studying the Bible each morning before work, my dad has always demonstrated the desire to truly know everything he can about whatever it is he believes or values. I can think of no characteristic I’d rather emulate, and I only hope I can continue to grow myself in this way.

3. What is your pet writing project, the one I bet you’ve been working on forever? What is it about and who’s your main character? Are you still writing it?

Oh how I wish I had just one of these that I’d devoted any real energy to. Sometimes I’m ashamed to call myself a writer because I haven’t truly begun anything real. I have ideas, and I’ve jotted down notes, spent evenings brainstorming, asked friends’ and mentors’ advice… but I’ve done very little else. I’ve started the notes for what I’m hoping might become a semi-epic poem about the phoenix… but I have a LONG way to go before I can call this a “project.” I’ve also determined the topic for what I hope might be my first book… but beyond putting a lot of thought into a sort of theme and general idea, I’ve done almost nothing. I happen to be one of the most social people I know, and this demanding personality trait has kept me from doing much of anything in the way of major writing projects. It’s a trait I think I’m going to have to commit to abandoning, at least for a season here and there, in order to get anything in the way of real writing done. I’m hoping the motivation to do so comes soon.

4. If your life had a motto, what would it be and why?

I can’t seem to think of anything creative for this one. No matter how much I think about it, the only truthful answer I can think to give is as basic as this: “Be a friend.”

I say this because there is nothing I value in life more than friendship. I have so many amazing friends, and I can’t even imagine trying to count them. This fact gets pointed out to me on a pretty regular basis, and without intending to sound arrogant… I truly believe that I have all of these wonderful friends because I try really hard to be a good friend. I know I fail miserably and often… but I do try. And in all honesty, I put more effort into relationships than anything else in my life.

5. If you had to live anywhere but where you are now, where would you choose to live and why?

I think I’ve probably talked about this no less than 5 dozen times over the few years I’ve been blogging, but the answer remains… New Zealand. And the reason is simple—because it looks like this:

[I don’t think I’m feeling creative or witty enough to answer number six right now… but I’ll think on it for a while, and I may try to answer it at a later date.]

Forever Young

First of all, I have to admit that it's a little creepishly fitting that I've decided to write this post when only last night I heard a rather lovely cover (by Youth Group) of "Forever Young" and spent the rest of the evening humming the tune. But, I digress...

My sweet friend Michele has strongly encouraged that I write something new here, and despite the fact that I'm utterly convinced few people come here anymore... except all you "Johnny Depp" Googlers (hey fellow Johnny lovers!)... I've decided she's right. It's time.

And because I'm at work and don't have a lot of time to write something wildly magnificent (or even moderately intriguing)... I decided to pull from her latest post and instead tell you a mildly amusing story relating to my new job.

I plan to go into more detail here on Notions about the fact that I've started a new job (right after I fulfill my previous promise to write about why 2008 was such a marvelous year); but in the meantime, suffice it to say, I've started a new job working for a cancer education center and I couldn't be more thrilled. This is far and away the most amazing job I've had so far, and I am so happy to be here. I started December 15 and have slowly been making the rounds, learning the ropes, and meeting folks who've been on holiday, away on business trips, etc.

Well, about two weeks after I started, I remembered that I had not yet met the VP of HR because she had been out of the office my first week. So, one afternoon I noticed she was in her office with the door open and decided to stick my head in and introduce myself. I knocked, put my hand out and said, "Hi. I'm Martha Belden... the new project editor in Meetings. It's so nice to finally meet you." With slightly widened eyes, she stood up, shook her head once and then smiled, exclaiming, "Oh! You're Martha! I keep seeing you around the office, and I've been wondering, 'Who brought their kid to work?'"

I didn't know what to say, but I'm pretty sure I turned some deep shade of visible humiliation. Eventually I think I mumbled something about trying to dress more like a grownup (it's quite possible she made this assumption based on my Pink Floyd t-shirt, cardigan, jeans and Converse... in an environment where almost everyone else wears nice skirts and blouses and sometimes even suits, despite the casual dress code). But she laughed, walked around her desk, shook my hand and said, "Hey. Enjoy it while you can. You look fabulously young, and that probably won't last forever."

I smiled and thanked her before thinking to myself, "Actually. I'm fairly certain it will in fact be a really long time before I look my age." The women in my family simply do not age, and I've got an extra factor working in my favor (well, at least with regards to aging). I have an autoimmune disease called Scleroderma that essentially has created a layer of scar tissue just under the outermost layer of my skin. Therefore, I have almost no elasticity in my skin... but I also have no wrinkles. Hey... gotta stroke that silver lining every once in a while, right?

So get excited. I might just pull off being mistaken for someone's "kid" for a long time yet. I am, after all, nearing 30 while still being mistaken for a 15 - 17 year old on a fairly regular basis. Michele, I'm right there with you. I should view this as a compliment.

'Tis the Season

Merry Christmas, everyone!! [and if you celebrate something else... Merry Happy (insert holiday here) to you!]

2008 has been the best year of my life thus far... and I hope to go into that a little more in a follow-up post to ring in the New Year.

But in the meantime, I just want to say... even though I've been incredibly absent from the blog world this year, I love you all and I hope you're still coming here at least occasionally. I'm really going to try to re-energize my blog in 2009... so we'll see how that goes.

Oh yeah... and I also wanted to say... GO FROGS!!!!! What an awesome game and a great early Christmas present.

Notions on Being meets Shea of the Dead

Warning: Dad, I just want to mention that the following story may freak you out a bit. But I assure you, it has dawned on me that I should probably have taken more precaution... and when I meet other "friends from the Internet" in the future, I'll keep this in mind.

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This is certainly the most adventurous MIRL (meeting in real life, for those of you unversed in blogger lingo) I've experienced thus far, and I'll do my best to tell the story well.

Several months ago, I got a facebook invitation from Shea informing all invitees that sometime toward the end of the year, a friend of his from Macedonia would be coming to the United States to do tattoos. The invitation mentioned that if enough interest was generated in a particular region, Shea and said friend would make arrangements to add that region to their itinerary.

I immediately responded that if they were able to come to Texas, I'd be happy to be a participant. Fast forward several months to something like September, and I get an IM from Shea saying that they plan to be in the Austin area sometime after Thanksgiving. I immediately agreed to do whatever I could to work Austin into my busy schedule and began plotting what exactly I wanted to have tattooed.

After extensive deliberation, I decided this would be the time to get my phoenix... something I've wanted to have done since first I became enthralled with ink. So Shea sent me his friend's e-mail address, and I immediately wrote to him explaining what I wanted and why. [digression: Since childhood, I've been fascinated with phoenix mythology. Stravinsky's The Firebird is one of my favorite musical compositions. Fawkes from the Harry Potter series is one of my favorite characters. And most significantly, the phoenix has been known throughout history to represent both healing and rebirth... both very near and dear to my being. So yeah... that's the very brief explanation of the phoenix now beautifully inked on my back.]

Fast forward yet again, and we come to this past weekend. On Friday afternoon, Shea text messaged me the address of the house where I'd be meeting him and his friend, and I quickly Google mapped it and jotted down the directions. Then, on Saturday, December 13, I got in my car and drove to Austin. I stopped at my friend Amanda's apartment (where I planned to stay that night), had brunch with her and then hopped back in the car to drive to Wimberley, TX (about 40 miles southwest of Austin) where I'd soon meet Shea.

Now, this is where I was incredibly stupid (but, it should also be noted, totally lucky because everything turned out just fine). It didn't cross my mind to tell Amanda where I was going, leave her with the address... anything. And on top of that, none of my friends had the slightest inkling where I was going or what I was doing this weekend... aside from the fact that I was getting a phoenix tattoo in Austin. So yeah... as Shea pointed out, this could have been the perfect outline for a teen horror flick. [Again, Dad, it's okay... I know now. From now on, I'll always tell at least one person where I'm going and provide them with the address.]

Anyway... I get to Wimberley, follow the directions and end up right in front of the house matching the address Shea had provided. However, I didn't see the car he described as sitting right in front of the house. So I call him up to let him know I'm there. He goes outside. I don't see him. "Crap! I'm at the wrong house. But... but... this house totally matches the address!" Regardless, I start driving the other direction to see if I can figure out where we went wrong. Eventually we figured out that when Shea had given me the address, one word was wrong. Instead of Deer Field, the house was on Deer Ridge. Just one word off... but as we all know, when it comes to an address, one word can mean the world.

Anyway, long story short(er... still not really short, 'cause this is me)... Shea had to get in his car and come find me. Thankfully he was with another guy from the area who figured out where I was, and soon we were on our way to the correct house. When we finally got to the house, I got out of the car, and Shea and I officially met for the first time... after two years of blogland friendship. And to commemorate the occasion, I spent the following few hours sitting in a house in the middle of nowhere (seriously... there was a six-point buck hanging out in the backyard) that belonged to people I'll never know, with four guys I had never previously met and will probably never see again... all while getting an excruciatingly painful tattoo and trying as hard as I could not to cry. [another digression: I also want to make it clear that, while I did get a tattoo in a stranger's dining room, straddling a dining room chair... everything was done with extreme sanitary caution. I promise.]

Oh, how I love a good adventure.

And Shea... I'm so glad we finally met. I hope to see you again someday... but either way, at least we can always say we had a memorable introduction. Take care... (and don't forget to deliver those CDs to Z and Adam.)

My Futile Discourse

As most of you have probably learned by reading me over the months and years... reality is a very difficult concept for me. In fact, I'm not sure if I'm ever in tune with reality. And unfortunately, I'm not exaggerating. It matters not how mundane or how dire the situation may be... I can guarantee that I've conjured up a nice little outline of how I see whatever situation playing out. And rest assured, it is always something fantastic and ridiculous.

I feel like I've written this exact diatribe oh so many times before... ever attempting to remind myself and everyone else that we simply cannot take me seriously. After all, when one is constantly lost in one's own mind... how can one be considered anything but stark, raving mad? I really should be committed... for my own sanity's sake. I drive myself crazy by experiencing life and trying to make each and every moment more than what reality presents.

This has been on my mind a lot over the last couple of months. It has occurred to me again and again that I am consistently trying to jump ahead in the as yet unwritten tale of my own life... and I never seem to understand that I simply can't do this. As I just pointed out... the tale is unwritten... why do I keep trying to read ahead? When will I learn that life is to be lived... that my tale is being told... that I will find out what happens next... and that all I have to do is keep living and allow myself to be surprised and awed by how reality's story plays out?

You want to know when you'll learn this, Martha Elaine? Never. That's when. As your father loves to point out, you're a story teller... and this is what you do. You keep trying to devise your own story... chiefly because you are convinced that you'll be disappointed with the story reality tells. But oh how I wish you'd stop... because the reality tale really isn't so bad... and it's the only one that's really real anyway. And the saddest part is... your happy little story is always trumped by reality anyway... no matter how hard you try to fight it. Don't you know, it would hurt so much less if you'd just stop interrupting... wait... and let reality finish the story?

Ruthie's Coming Home!

My beautiful friends, Michael and Jana, are going to Ethiopia in a few weeks to pick up their precious little girl. Finally!

Watch their little video...

...and then tell me that's not the most breathtaking little girl you've ever seen!

I love you guys!! And I simply cannot wait to meet her!

Photo meme

Stolen... can I say "borrowed"? ... from Red and Punxxi. Thanks, ladies! This is a fun one.

Answer the questions below, do a Google Image search with your answer, take a picture from the first page of results, and do it with minimal words of explanation.


1. Age you’ll be on your next birthday

2. A place you want to travel to

3. Your favorite place

4. Your favorite food

5. Your favorite pet

6. Your favorite color combination

7. Your favorite piece of clothing

(I typed in "housedress" because I have a few dresses that I would consider housedresses, and I wear them all the time. And I really really wish I had THIS dress.)

8. Your favorite TV show

9. What's the name of your significant other

10. The town in which you live

11. Your first job

12. Your dream job

13. A bad habit you have

14. Your worst fear

15. What you'd like to do before you die

and... Just for Fun

Rock and Review

So, a guy I worked with at my first job out of college has recently started a music review blog called Rock & Review and asked me if I would be interested in writing for it. Considering I'm more than mildly obsessed with music and have probably averaged two to three live shows a week this year, of course I jumped right on board.

I think the blog is going to be pretty great. It's not so much about the writing (something I'm going to have to get used to), but all about the music. I love how musically diverse the site is already proving to be, and I think... if we stick with it... it's going to be a really neat site.

So anyway... without further ado, here's my first post. Enjoy! And please read some of the other reviews, check out some new music and come back! It'd also really help us out if you could spread the word. We all love music, I think... and we certainly all know others who love music.

Thanks, guys!

The Accident, II

The Accident

I've told the story so many times, and yet there are still so many people anxious to hear what happened this past Friday night. So I've decided to write it out and post it here. I feel I should warn you... I have trouble believing the following story, myself. But I promise I couldn't make this up if I tried.

Last Friday night I went to Fort Worth to see Fleet Foxes at Lola's. [P.S. If you have time, listen to "White Winter Hymnal" ... if it doesn't blow your mind, there might be something wrong with you.] Anyway... the show was absolutely incredible, and I even got to meet lead singer Robin Pecknold [what an incredibly humble, nice human being... I wish we could be friends]. I left the bar soon after, high on the thrill of experiencing truly great live music. About ten minutes after I left, I noticed a car ahead of me on I-30 driving pretty erratically and decided I should be wary. I hung back for a few minutes and then decided I really wanted to just get past the guy. I waited for him to move over so that there would be at least one lane between us, and then I decided it was time.

I was in the far left lane and started speeding up cautiously. Even now I don't know whether the guy was drunk or just being obnoxious. As soon as I started to pass him (I assume it was a him... although I honestly don't know), he swerved across both lanes, I laid on my horn and tried to dodge him. But somehow he either swiped me or clipped the back end of my car, sending me into a spin. I spun at least four times hitting the concrete barrier lining the highway each time I spun. I know I hit the wall four times, but I'm not sure of much else. Eventually my car came to a screeching hault, and I realized my passenger side airbag had deployed and the car was filled with smoke and powder.

I got out of the car in hysterics and started pacing back and forth trying to get a grip. Then I went back to the car and dumped my purse out to find my cell phone. I first called my friend Curtis who had been at the show with me, but knowing he had already worked an insanely long day and was on his way back to Dallas to work even more, I told him not to worry... that I would find a friend who lived in Fort Worth to come pick me up. After talking to a few people, I finally sat down on the side of the road and tried to catch my breath and face the fact that apparently no one was going to stop and help me [yes the erratic driver who ran me off the road just kept going, as did everyone else who passed by for the next ten minutes].

After a few minutes, it dawned on me that I should probably move away from my car because it was still sticking out into the left lane, and I knew it would be bad news if it were to go unnoticed by other drivers. After realizing this, I took a couple of steps and then heard the most terrifying sound I've ever heard. The crash of the other driver going 75mph plowing into my stationary car was deafening. Somehow in that split second, I managed to look up and see my car hurtling towards me. Next thing I knew, my car had slammed into me, and I was thrown into the cement barrier before falling forward painfully onto my knees.

After being stabilized in a neck collar, strapped down to a gurney, and answering a barrage of questions from firemen, EMT paramedics and a very nice policeman... I was rushed to the JPS Trauma One unit. I spent the next 8 hours being stuck with needles, CAT scanned and X-rayed before I was finally released with a concussion, several contusions (deep bruises) and a possible knee injury (I'll have to go to an orthopedic doctor in a few weeks). The doctor and several others have also warned me that it is likely I'll have other injuries, which will not reveal themselves until my body recovers from some of the trauma. But to the amazement of the hospital staff, my family, friends and me... I'm alive and well, for the most part.

I can't even begin to describe how terrifying this experience was or how utterly awed I am that I not only survived, but that I came out relatively unharmed. I'm hesitant to look at it this way because it just seems so illogical in my mind; but in truth, I can't deny that clearly, for whatever reason, God wants me alive. And that is an exciting while also frightening thought.

Nuggets of Notions

Well, Kyle... I'm a few hours late. But I'm here now. I have so so many things I want to blog about, but they're all a bit emotional and/or time-consuming... and I've got a book calling my name right now. So for now, I'm just going to post a few little nuggets and promise to come back soon with something more in depth.

• I came really, frustratingly close to sharing a theater and some possible face-time with Michael Cera tonight. You have no idea what a disappointment it was when we found out we were about 4 spots too late in line. Ugh. What a letdown.
• A friend argued today that she thinks we should just face the fact that all relationships end... or at least change. I'm willing to go with the "change" part, except that she sort of implied that all relationships eventually change for ill. I imagine (*hope*) this isn't what she meant... but I'm not actually quite sure. She and I have always viewed relationships very differently. And call me naive or call me an optimist... but I'll never jump on board with the idea that all relationships eventually end. Sure, we die and stuff. But I don't give up easily... if it's humanly possible for me to maintain and even strengthen a relationship (of any kind), you bet your ass I'm going to give it my all. And yes, if you suddenly decide to stop returning my phone calls, e-mails, etc. I'm going to take it personally. I don't care how "busy" you are.
• A different friend encouraged me a few weeks ago to try to "write happiness" so I won't forget what it feels like if I get sick again. I mused that I don't quite know how to write happy... but the more I reflect on that conversation... the more I find myself desperate to try. It scares me that even if I manage to write it, it might not be all that comforting if/when I find myself in the darkness again. But it can't hurt to try... right?
• It's more than a month away, and I already cannot wait for Halloween. I'm throwing a party. I think I'll decorate my apartment with those fake spiderwebs and some red light bulbs. I thought about making my apartment "Hell" ... but I thought it might be weird for a Christian to invite all her friends to "Hell" for the evening.
• Right now I'm reading a book that I'm equal parts wickedly enjoying and wickedly ashamed of. I feel okay reading it, while I'm reading it (in fact... I can't put the thing down). But as soon as I try to explain what I'm reading or what happened in the chapter I just finished... I feel like a 14-year-old bimbo. But oh well... it's fun.
• Still can't believe I was in the same building as Michael Cera only an hour ago, and I never got to meet him.
• How is it that I always forget how badly a broken heart really does hurt? Every time it happens (well... the two times it's happened before), I've promised myself I won't let it happen again. That I'm going to shut myself off... stay bitter... avoid males in general. But here I am again. Swimming in my own sea of disappointment and regret. God, this gets old.
• Tonight I was making fun of all the hipsters waiting in line to see Mr. Cera when I looked down and realized, I think I might actually look like one myself. Doh!
• I have really nifty friends. If any of you guys come here anymore... Hi! Y'all are amazing. Thanks for putting up with my heartfelt yet irritating whine over the last few weeks. I'm not over it yet... so there may be more to come. But I promise it'll end sometime. And if/when you want to whine... I'll be right over here waiting, with an empathetic smile and soft shoulder to rest on.
• I think I might be single-handedly keeping Chick-fil-A in business. Not really 'cause tons of people eat there. But sheesh... they know my order now. How embarrassing.
  

Peace out, ladies and gentlemen. I'll be back soon. Maybe to whine... maybe to smile brightly. Only time shall tell. Love you.