Tag Archives: Dating

Day 3

I’ve had an interesting day so far. It technically started before the sun came up. I couldn’t sleep last night, so I lay in bed and made up a weird story for an hour and a half or so. It wasn’t bad for bored-at-two-in-the-morning. I remember a lot of it, but I don’t think I’ll bother writing it down. I think it’ll be my secret insomnia story.

I got up around 10:15 because I was supposed to come up with the lesson plan for today’s CCD class yesterday, which doesn’t take long, but I forgot, so I needed to have time to do that plus eat lunch. That all got done and the lesson itself went swimmingly, although I think I occasionally get a little too complicated for my nine-year-old students. When I was a kid I hated CCD. It wasn’t taught well. I just want them to know Jesus. I definitely didn’t know him when I was a kid.

After my lesson I came home and assessed my mosaic. My dad and I got a lot done last night, and I realized I just need to glue one more design piece down before starting on the background, which is going to be all black tiles. It was cool to realize that I now know how to complete the puzzle. We ended up talking a bit about mosaics in class today because, surprisingly, most of the kids didn’t know what they were. One of the kids asked me what mine looks like. I told him it currently looks like a mess.

I didn’t have a whole lot of time to do mosaic things, though, because I had to get upstairs before Kathy came over. She was super nice and cool and kind of reminded me of our family friend who lives in Florida. What she told me was so reassuring. I, Katie Curtis, can become a consecrated virgin. I still have a lot of thinking to do, but I’m pretty sure this is exactly what I want, and there’s nothing getting in my way that I can see. She said the next thing I should do is read a document on this vocation that’s provided online and meet with the director of vocations in Boston.

The most helpful thing she said, though was that, while I’m working through all of this, I can say that I’m dating Jesus. It sounds weird, but I’ve been wanting to be able to say that for a long time. I’ve loved him for a long time in a way that has felt more than friendship, and I haven’t known what to call it. It was just this weird in-between thing. I think I’m right. Everything is telling me that I’m right. It’s kind of ridiculous. Right now I’m listening to very weird music that I’m not sure I even really like, and I haven’t got anything done on my Mythology today, but I don’t even care. I’m in a stupidly good mood.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

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The Moment Of “I Love You”

I’ve tried to write this several times over and haven’t been able to. Partly, I haven’t known where exactly to begin, partly I haven’t known what to include, partly, I find this kind of thing a bit cliche, and partly, it’s a bit of a novel. All that being said, I’ve decided to start with a preface. As I said, More often than not, I find a lot of “coming to faith” stories at least somewhat annoying. A lot of them have the same, or at least a similar notion that the writer was so terrible before, and drastically better, morally speaking, immediately after their conversion. I also find it problematic when a person shares their story and neglects basic rules of writing style, spelling, and grammar. While it may be more important on some level to simply get the story out, the neglect lessens its credibility. More could be said, but I think those are issues for another post. Now I will share my story.

I grew up Catholic, largely because of a promise my mom made. When I was a year old I was diagnosed with a kind of Muscular Dystrophy (MD) that would kill me by the age of five if I was lucky. I don’t really know the time frame for all this, but when my parents got the news, my mom started praying like a maniac. I had tests done, and the news continued to be bad. I need to pause for a moment to explain a Catholic peculiarity here. A common misconception is that Catholics worship the Virgin Mary. The truth is that she has a very high place of honor, being that she is Jesus’ mother, and we recognize that her prayers are helpful and influential. Now to get back to my story, the news was bad, and eventually my mom gave up. Rather, she stopped praying to God, and asked Mary to pray for her because if anyone in the world knew what it was like to lose a child, it would be her.

Circumstances continued like this for about six months, if I remember correctly until one day my dad called my mom. He had taken me to an appointment and inexplicably, things had drastically changed. What had seemed like a ritual reiteration of a death sentence for six months had suddenly turned to a promise of life. Somehow the test results had drastically changed. I had a kind of MD, the effects of which were not entirely certain, but I would grow up, go to school, and do “normal kid stuff.” I did mention that my mom made a promise. When she asked Mary to pray for me, she promised that she would raise me as a “good Catholic girl,” so CCD was included in the “normal kid stuff” I ended up doing.

The truth is I have always been a believer in the sense that I want things to be true; I’m a bit gullible; my natural impulse is to trust people. As a child I believed in God, but when I was very young I knew him only vaguely as the Creator of the universe, and even then, not necessarily one who had a conscious mind or paid any attention to us. Eventually that changed. I came to believe that he paid attention to us, but mostly like someone watching an ant farm. As an older child, particularly in my middle school years, I just lost interest in God. I got busy doing more “normal kid stuff,” as does everyone.

In particular, my friends and I became very busy defending Mythic Island, an invented universe that was under siege from the wolf demon Agorauth. One of my friends and I created a comic for the school newspaper. I wrote the story and she drew the pictures. Every Friday night we would all congregate at my house, eat terrible pizza and play Star Wars Battlefront. Of course, since it was middle school, it wasn’t all fun. We can only assume that our group was comprised of the most unpopular kids in school. We all got picked on in one way or another.

High school changed things drastically and quickly. The summer before our Freshman year, we ended our Mythic Island adventure. That same year, one of my closest friends got incredibly busy with sports, so much so that we could hardly hang out. He also got a girlfriend, and I realized that boys could be more than just friends. Towards the end of that year I got a guitar who I named Francisco. You can probably imagine why.

At that time, I was still in CCD, and for a reason that was inexplicable at the time, I was hating it less and less. Most of my friends’ parents had allowed them to drop out years earlier, but my mom was not going to break her promise. CCD classes in ninth and tenth grade were structured towards getting students ready to receive the sacrament of Confirmation, should they choose to receive it. A “Yes” signifies that a person is an adult and active member in the Church. The odd thing was, though I was becoming more receptive to what we were learning, there was little emotion in it. It was just another class.

Another friend of mine was enrolled in the program after his parents divorced in the middle of our Freshman year because his dad thought it would be helpful for him. He hated every second of it. He had changed after the divorce. It had made him a completely different person. He was dispondent and reclusive. He stopped doing homework; wouldn’t hand in projects; intentionally failed tests. He was also rather disrespectful to our teacher in CCD, which I did not appreciate. I only mention these details about my friend because in part, I think it made me want to make up for it, so I participated more in class and I really listened. I wasn’t passive during that time.

We completed the Confirmation class at the end of our Sophomore year. It concludes with an all-day retreat at which we had discussions, weird spiritual activities which I didn’t exactly understand, and a mass, if I remember correctly. There was also a lot of free time, and my friend and I spent that time silently playing cards. At the end of the day we were given a letter written by our parents. I don’t remember much of what mine said. I do remember them saying they were proud of me, and that from this point on, my spirituality was my business. Finally, we were asked, “Will you be confirmed?” I said I would.

At the beginning of my Junior year I went through the actual ceremony, and I did keep going to church, but had I been asked at the time, I would not have been able to tell why. For the next two years I can, I think, accurately say that I was a Catholic in practice, but an agnostic in belief. I still didn’t really know who God was. I knew what he did, but that was it. During that time, I had begun to feel an increasing sense of loneliness. One of my friends had already had a girlfriend and a break-up. My other friend had been in a relationship for three years. I had never dated. However, this loneliness was more complex than the desire for a partner. I constantly needed to be around people. If I couldn’t find someone to be with on Friday nights, I would sit alone and cry. I felt unneeded, and I hated it.

Inevitably, we all graduated, and my friends went away to college. Because I need help with a few basic things, I commuted to school and lived at home. It so happened that I applied to two schools, and was only accepted to one, so that’s where I went. I had hated the school search. The whole thing felt wrong to me, but something about Gordon was different. Their campus was really nice. The people there were really nice. They had a creative writing program, which sounded really nice. I somehow felt at home there. Gordon is a Christian school, and I think normally I would have had reservations about that, but unlike every school I looked at, it just felt “right.”

Starting classes at Gordon was like stepping into a whole new universe. We started classes by praying. We were required to attend chapel three times a week, and I enjoyed it. People freely talked about having a relationship with Jesus. This was all great, except that it made me more lonely. The one thing I hung on to was that my classmates and teachers and chapel speakers had taught me to pray in a way my church hadn’t. Don’t get me wrong, now that I’ve been Christian for five years, I appreciate and use the more formal Catholic prayers quite a lot, but first I had to learn how to talk. It was shortly after we had begun classes in mid August that I had begun praying that God would help me find someone to love me. I prayed this almost every night before going to sleep with increasing desperation.

I don’t remember the exact date, but I can conclusively say I truly became Christian one night in October, 2011. I was lying in bed, and I was crying. I was praying from the darkest, lowest, smallest, loneliest part of my being. I don’t know what would have happened had it passed like any other night, but for some reason I said, “I love you,” and I felt an overwhelming sensation of comfort and peace and warmth, and I felt like I wasn’t alone in the best possible way. It was spontaneous, and my only explanation is that he was saying, “I’m not going to find someone for you. I love you.” A lot has happened since then. I almost left the Catholic Church, but have since fully embraced it for a number of reasons, which I won’t explain here. I’ve never dated and have become perfectly content being single. What was sparked at the moment of that “I love you” has turned into a real relationship. I have a writing career, and am studying theology independently. I don’t necessarily know where it will go, but I trust God.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly

Trust

I trust everyone. Honestly, I assume that everyone has good, or at least mostly good motives, and really does want the best for the world and for others. That’s not to say I trust everyone 100%. I’m not naive. I know people have evil in them, and I know there are dangerous people in the world. I’m just not afraid of them. From my experience, 999,999 out of 1,000,000 are trustworthy. I believe this for a number of reasons.

I’m young and grew up in a safe suburban town, went to school at a Christian college in the middle of nowhere, and still live in the aforementioned safe suburban town. I’m an optimist. I simply want there to be good in people, and I choose to see the good. I’ve never really encountered any truly dangerous people. I believe that everything happens for a reason, and if I get hurt, I believe that some good will eventually come of it; I’ll learn something from it. I’ve never been disappointed when I give someone the benefit of the doubt, even if I’ve been a little unsure in the beginning.

My contemporaries and I were taught when we were kids not to talk to strangers. We were taught that evil was lurking around every corner. I don’t know when where or why our parents got this notion. To me at least, it seems entirely unreasonable to believe such a thing. You would constantly be living in fear. A friend of mine has told me that it’s better to be a pessimist because you’ll always be right or pleasantly surprised. However, I don’t necessarily view “bad” experiences in a negative light. One must either take responsibility for these experiences, or one must assume that these things were meant to happen and things will eventually get better.

I do believe in destiny to some extent. I don’t think it conflicts with the idea that humans have free will. God has a plan for each of our lives, and we can choose to go along with that plan, or we can choose not to and hope for the best. The trouble is knowing what God’s plan is in a concrete sense, especially in the day-to-day details. It often doesn’t seem to make any sense at all from a human perspective, and the truth is, this can get annoying.

In a recent post I wrote about how I want to belong only to God, and I’ve been exploring the possibility of becoming a Sister or a nun (apparently they’re different). I’ve also been trying to find someone to play music and write with. I’ve mostly been looking on Craig’s list, and haven’t been able to find anyone. I was supposed to meet someone at Starbucks today, but my parents wouldn’t let me. They didn’t trust him for several reasons, but I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I live with my parents because of my disability, and it would be too much of a hassle to figure out how to live on my own. The fact of the matter is, however, that if I did live on my own, I would have met my potential musical copilot this afternoon.

When I was a kid I liked my quiet neighborhood. I could play in the street with my friends and a short walk around the neighborhood was long enough for me. I desperately want to move to a city. I want to be able to go places without having to get a ride. I want to be able to just wander off with an actual destination in mind when I’m bored and need a change of scenery. I want to be able to actually go somewhere for work. Right now I spend my entire day in my bedroom. I work in here. I write in here. I play music in here. I pray in here. I sleep in here.

A few nights ago I was doing research about religious life and for some reason it was making me anxious. Part of me wants to do this because I want to formally dedicate myself to God (i.e. I want to take some kind of vow), but at the same time, I’m starting to feel like that isn’t the life for me. I’m almost certain by now that God wants me to remain single, and I’m really okay with that. However, now I find myself asking “Why?” If he doesn’t want me to be a “religious” person, what the heck does he want me to do?

I’m still working on finishing the New Testament, and it’s like he’s drilling into my head: “Tell people about me!” I desperately want to, but I just can’t find the right words. People don’t want to hear the same old message. People don’t want to hear for the hundredth time that Jesus saved them from their sins and I don’t want to tell them that. I want to tell them about how I never feel alone. I want to tell them what it feels like to really be peaceful. I want to tell them how it feels to not worry or to not be scared. I just can’t figure out how to put the feeling into words.

I was briefly mad at God this afternoon. I was mad because he made me the way I am and landed me in this town. Being angry about it isn’t helpful, though. It doesn’t change anything. Because I live in this town I belong to the church I do, and I love my church. I love the people there, I love the priests there, I love teaching and volunteering there, and I love all the quirks that come with it. My church is definitely quirky. If I didn’t live in this insufferable town I wouldn’t have the friends I do. We wouldn’t have perfected our epic commiseration skills, and we wouldn’t be the people we are today. If I wasn’t born with MD, I most likely would not be nearly as empathetic as I am. If I didn’t live in this town I would have never discovered the culinary masterpiece that is Colombo’s Pizza. Actually, I probably wouldn’t be a confirmed Catholic. It was my music teacher who unknowingly convinced me to go through with it, and I wouldn’t have met him if I didn’t live in this town.

As I said, I trust people, but it’s way more important to trust God. I might just have to accept the prospect of never having a musical copilot. I don’t intend to make music a career, anyway. There’s no point in being mad at my parents either. I just started doing research to start a business with my dad. I think we will work well together. I’m learning a lot about the business world, and I’m finding it surprisingly enjoyable. I’ve hit a roadblock in my novel, and I need to do some reading to help me with that. Strangely enough, I’m finding that I’m busy lately even when it feels like I’m getting nothing done.

The future actually seems much more certain than it did last summer. In May I will have been out of school for a year. I still don’t entirely know what I’m doing or where I’m going, but I have a much better idea. I can comfortably say that I’m an artist, and hopefully I’ll be able to say that I’m a successful entrepreneur in the next few years. Time is a weird thing. It feels like it’s dragging on slowly until you look at it in retrospect. It’s taken me almost a year to get to where I am now, in terms of what I want to do. Realistically, that’s not a long time.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

What Is This Romance Of Which You Speak?

I’m completely switching gears from my last post. Because of very recent circumstances (as in earlier today), I need to rant about something completely different.

In case you didn’t know, I’m a quirky, shy 21 year old girl who uses a power wheelchair.

Before I start this rant, let’s get one thing straight; I don’t have self esteem issues. In fact, when I look in the mirror, I think I’m pretty cute; maybe not “pretty” exactly, but cute. I aint shootin’ for pretty. Pretty is too much work. I’m not lonely either. In fact, sometimes all I want is to lurk in my room and quietly play video games or read, or lurk in the basement and play guitar (I don’t do that quietly). In fact, what I want to rant about isn’t really a problem. It’s just weird.

I am not, nor have I ever been attracted to anyone (with the exception of one person who I’m not going to talk about for the sake of privacy, though he probably knows who he is). That was back when I was in high school, and it was nothing more than a crush.

The fact of the matter is, I have no idea what romance is, nor do I have any idea how to be romantic. I was talking to my mom yesterday because we were outside the grocery store waiting for my aunt, and they were selling flowers. My mom loves when my dad brings home flowers, but I feel like I would be thoroughly annoyed if someone brought me flowers on Valentine’s Day or what have you. It irks me that one would pull living things out of the ground just because they’re pretty. You just destroyed a plant. Way to go.

I also have never understood the difference between just hanging out and being on a date. For example, if you go out for dinner with someone, when is it a date, and when is it just going out for food? Furthermore, what is so special about a fancy candlelight dinner? Why isn’t pizza just as good? I like pizza… a lot.

Furthermore, I hate mushy talk. Pet names are okay, but being overly affectionate is just annoying to me. I’m not saying don’t do it at all. I’m just saying stuff like the “I love you,” “I love you more,” crap is stupid.

And I find stuff annoying. I wouldn’t want someone to just randomly give me gifts if it’s not Christmas or my birthday. I hate having stuff just lying around. The exception to this would be if he got me useful stuff or stuff that I needed. I would appreciate that.

Lastly–and I find this point a bit awkward–I find sex appalling. I don’t even want to think about it because the whole concept disgusts me. I know I’m not the only person like this, but I get the sense that it’s not common. The only reason I even mention it is because it means my soul mate has to be someone who thinks the same way, and I feel like finding that sort of person will be difficult.

The thing is, I don’t want to be single for the rest of my life. I eventually do want to be married. I just think about it sometimes because a lot of people I know, including some of my friends are either in, or have been in serious relationships. Some of my older friends are even married or engaged. I’ve never even been on a date. To my knowledge, no one has ever even been interested in going on a date with me. I think I’m a pretty cool person. I’m nice, I’m spiritual, I play video games and play guitar, I’m ambitious, I’m educated, I’m interested in interesting things, I’m creative, I’m kinda-sorta funny in a not-funny way, I’m adorably awkward, I like people, and I like animals.

I am shy, and I can tend to be a bit anti-social sometimes, but plenty of people are like that. I’ve just sort of been waiting to be in the right place at the right time, but I’m wondering just how long I’ll have to wait. I’ve briefly considered online dating, but the whole concept kind of weirds me out. Plus I feel like you’re supposed to be friends with someone first. I’ve also considered the possibility that God is getting me ready for a specific person, or getting him ready for me, or both. I’ve also considered the possibility that I don’t have time to be in a relationship; at least not a serious one right now. I’m finishing up my last actually serious semester at school, and I have a music career to work on. I guess I have to figure out what and how much have to sacrifice for a relationship, and how badly I want/need it.

I guess right now it doesn’t really bug me too much. I’m more worried that I’m weird. I guess I am. I guess I don’t really care. Maybe it’s one of those “I’ll know it when I see it kind of things.” I’ve run into a lot of happy accidents in my life already. Music just sort of happened. My involvement with Boston University just sort of happened. I decided to teach religious education at my church sort of out of the blue. I almost accidentally ended up at Gordon College. The thing is, these things happened partly because I was asked or I got the idea, and I said “Yes. I’ll do it.” I think that’s what makes life happen. We can’t know the future, but we can say “yes,” and make or let things happen.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Super Hero Complex

I thought about something after I posted yesterday. I think I have a super hero complex; or at least that’s what I call it. When I go to bed at night I pray and then I go to my fantasy world. In my fantasy world I’m a fairly different person. The character I made up to represent myself is named Kithryd. She lives on a farm outside of a small town that borders a deep and mysterious forest. She often goes on adventures in there and is fully capable of taking care of herself. I’ve tried to write stories about her and her adventures, but I can never finish them and yesterday I figured out why.

I love fantasy and science fiction because it is usually far more interesting than real life. I love mythical creatures and magic and the fight of good versus evil. Eventually, the stories I read or watch come to an end because the fight is over. Life will go back to normal for the characters and there’s nothing more to write about. I can’t write these stories because I can’t bare to bring them to an end.

This is bothersome in context with what I posted about yesterday. Yesterday I posted that I want to be someone’s rock. I want to help someone who is feeling alone or depressed or just confused about life. The problem is that it will forever bother me that there are thousands of people without someone or something to be their rock and if I help one person, I’ll want to help others. On one level, there’s nothing particularly wrong with that, but I’m worried that it could lead me to be less committed to a friendship or a relationship than I should be.

To be completely honest, part of the reason I want a very close friendship or a relationship is so that I have someone to help me and so that I don’t have to live with my parents forever or pay a stranger to help me with things. Luckily, I can do most things on my own, but because I can’t straighten my legs, I need a lot of help with some things.

I had never really thought about this stuff all at once until yesterday and I realized how complicated it is. I had to really think about how much love or friendship is involved in the relationship I want. On a purely emotional level, I would absolutely love to have a relationship with a guy, but I know that I could live without it. One of my aunts has been single her entire life and has been very happy. She lives alone and while she loves to spend time with friends and family, she also loves alone time. I can tolerate alone time. I don’t love it, but sometimes it’s nice and when it’s not I can deal with it well enough. I just like to have people around. Even if I’m not directly engaged in doing something with them, I like the noise they make and the fact that they fill a little part of the room. I don’t like when it’s too quiet. I would absolutely die if I had to live in an apartment all by myself.

I guess I need to be realistic. I can’t help everyone. I should be happy if I can help just one person. I don’t need to be everyone’s best friend to help them either. In fact, I don’t want to be everyone’s best friend. I feel that having a best friend is the best thing for people, but I have to remind myself yet again that it’s not my job. I’m meant to help, and helping just one person can still mean a lot. I’ve written about it, but I have to remind myself that simple acts of kindness can go a long way, whether I know it or not. Real heroes sometimes do great things without ever knowing about the effects of their actions, and they do it out of the kindness of their hearts. They don’t need to know that what they’re doing is working. They just need to know that they might be making a difference.

Valentine’s Day

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. I hope all you romantic people out there are planning to do something special. I have to check if Victoria Station is doing their open mic tomorrow night, but if they are that’s where I’m headed. It would be nice if I could play a couple love songs or something, but I don’t think I actually know any. I’m not even kidding, I don’t think I have a single love song in my repertoire. I’ll play some of my new stuff anyway.

I hate to admit it, but I get a little bummed out around Valentine’s Day sometimes. I don’t really even know why. I feel like February is a horrible time for a holiday dedicated to love. It’s cold, man! I don’t actually think I’m a very romantic person. I don’t even know what you’re supposed to do if you’re in love. I’ve never quite understood what defined something as a date versus just hanging out with a friend of the opposite gender. Does kissing define something as a date?

I’m curious to know what kissing is like. It seems kind of gross, to be perfectly honest. I like hugs. Hugs are lovely.

Although its kind of hard to admit it, I do kind of like sappy love stories. Have a super awesome day tomorrow, peeps. 🙂