I think love can come in many forms. I think we can all practice love…loving others, loving things, etc. But to say, “I’m in love with you” is something deeper. To really be in love, you have a foundation for that love. Part of which includes an opening up of the other person. To be *in* love, you’ve made yourself completely vulnerable, and have been wholly accepted by the person you’re with. And vice versa.

For me to say to a friend (or an acquaintance, or even a stranger), who has never given me the room to let my true self, ugliness, vulnerability and all spill out, “I’m in love with you,” isn’t actually love at all. It may be infatuation…it may even be a form love…but in love? What’s it based on?

I’m not saying every two people who are in a relationship and vulnerable with one other are definitely in love. I’ve seen plenty of self-destructive, self-interested people claim to be in love, and then suddenly be out of love when a bump in the road comes. But I am wondering if we throw a really important term around more so to validate ourselves and our feelings, instead of paying attention to its true meaning.

That’s all. Just thinking. I’m not editing this. I never edit my blogs. I will never get famous from my writing. Ha. : )

But here they are. My thoughts. On…dating. Particularly within the Christian culture. Weeeeeee!

A funny thing has happened to me a handful of times throughout the last few years. I’ve been asked to “hang out” with really wonderful guys…and we do. And maybe those hangouts include a meal. Or a movie. And maybe the guy pays. And maybe we laugh a lot. And maybe this happens a lot, for a handful of months. And then maybe it ends. And there I am…left confused as to what in the world just happened. Why I’m not hearing from my kind guy friend anymore.

Well…come to find out…those “hang outs” were feelers. The guy was trying to figure out if he wanted to date me or not. And clearly, by the lack of phone calls, I didn’t make the cut.

So here are my thoughts on that little phenomenon. It’s ever so slightly unfair. Not that it ended…but that we weren’t ever upfront enough to be clear. Without fail, in those situations, I’ve been scratching my head thinking, “Uhhh, I don’t get it. I think we’re just friends…but I kind of feel like he might be interested…but then I think he’s this nice to all the girls in his life…so I don’t know what it is or what we are or aren’t.” Simply put, it’s restricting. I’m just so confused as to what’s happening, I don’t feel the freedom to be myself. If a guy is just clear…if he says, “Hey, I’d like to take you out, would you like to go out with me?” then two folks can go out and be free in just letting it be what it is. A date. Where you’re getting to know each other better.

NOW THEN. I really do understand why some guys might be drawn to this type of “dating”…or…pre-dating, I guess? There seems to be a lot of pressure in the Christian dating circuit. Maybe there’s a rush on the girl’s side to get married. And so maybe the guy starts to feel like he needs to know if he’s going to marry the girl or not before he’s even asked her out. And that stinks. Because it’s not realistic. So, ladies, maybe we need to work to stay calm when we’re asked out. And guys, don’t allow yourselves to get dragged into the subtle manipulation girls can often weave into conversations without realizing it. But do give yourself the freedom to be upfront and call a spade a spade.

Now for the disclaimers…

Clearly, I’m not a dating expert. I’m single. I’ve never had a relationship work out. But I am learning more and more about the process. And I’ll tell you this much…when a man comes up to me and asks me out in a clear way…he may have no clue as to if it’s going to go past one date or fifty…but we’re both able to go out with a clear understanding that there’s a level of interest. I also realize that not ALL Christian men or women date like this. It’s just one consistent experience I’ve had within that particular subculture. And whenever I lose a friend out of the deal, I get bummed over it.

That’s all. I’m not going to even edit this post. I just thought I’d let my emotional vomit find it’s way on my keyboard. ; )

I know Christians…incredibly wise men and women, who truly believe the Bible and what it says and who God says He is. But when it comes to practicing love with true abandon, and seeking out the messy people, or hurting people, or etc etc etc, they fall so short of how Jesus told us to love.

And then I know people who don’t go to church, and maybe don’t have a daily relationship with God, but love more fully than the folks I’m speaking of above.

So…I’m just wondering…who is to say who is and isn’t a follower of Christ? Why do some get to decide whether or not a person is good or right for you (in friendship or otherwise) based only on the idea of whether or not they go to a brick and mortar church?

Things I know and understand…that being a Christian (in part) boils down to who you say God is, and how your life is lived as a result of who you say He is. I know that simply being a good person isn’t the point. I also know hundreds of people who strike the balance between the two types I’ve mentioned above.

Maybe I don’t even really understand what I’m asking…

But I’m mulling. Definitely mulling.

Or maybe it’s just a funny thing about me and successes…

Within two days of something good happening, I feel the strain of everything else that is, or could be, going wrong.

This Monday afternoon I signed with an agency. So I now have someone picking up the phone and pitching me to casting directors (at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work) and getting me in the door for auditions. It’s a wonderful thing. It’s next to impossible to do anything in LA without an agent. This is big. Huge. Ginormous. Maybe even epic. (But I don’t care much for the word epic…so let’s just stick with ginormous.)

But here it is…Wednesday…and I’m already thinking about everything that isn’t right. I have an agency, but I don’t have a manager. I need new headshots. Headshots cost money. I need  a reel. I don’t have enough for a reel. Reels cost money. Everyone’s hours are getting cut at work. My sciatic nerve is flaring up, again. I miss my old girlfriends. I’m lonesome. What if my agent doesn’t send me out? What if what one of my friends said is true and I really never will be on a Julia Roberts level? What if what if what if what if what if…

Maybe it’s maturity that removes some of this post-mountain-top angst. Maybe it’s just the way I’m wired. But I’m tired of the yo yo. So right now…I’m going to close my computer, and with it, close the fears and suspicions. And I’m going to haul my cookies to some Cuban speakeasy where you have to know a password to get in. And I’m going to hope they let me in…considering I accidentally got a pint of grey paint in my hair this afternoon and it refuses to come out.

I miss Sonnie. She was always down for Starbucks.

I miss Kath. She was always around for Calypso.

I miss Paul. He was always around to talk.

I miss Carly. She was always up for a sleepover.

I miss Gina. She was down for just about anything.

I miss Sara. Because…well…she’s Sara.

Being new to any place is hard. I’m coming up on my one year anniversary in Los Angeles, and while I love it, it is tough making friendships out here. The type that are around for just about anything, that is. It’s a much bigger city, and the chances of just running into friends while you’re out is incredibly low. (And I actually like LA for that reason.) But lately, I’ve been missing those deep rooted friendships.

Alright. Miss Fest 2010 is over. At least online. It’s onward and upward from here.

–noun

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Pride is a slippery little sucker.

For example, I technically live in Van Nuys, California. That is what my actual zip code actually states. But, most people familiar with the city sneer when I say, “Van Nuys.” Instead of ignoring it, because I live in a cozy, clean, safe home with wonderful neighbors and rows of well-manicured lawns, I let my pride determine my new response: “Oh, I live in an area called Lake Balboa. It’s where Sherman Oaks and Van Nuys meet.” All of which is completely true, but, holy cow. Who needs to rattle off all that to a simple question?

Or my new job at a little coffee shop seems to find a way to take shots at my pride every shift. One customer recently brought up the public school system, and how she feels like people have demonized it over the years. I told her I was a product of the public school system, as a way of agreeing with her and showing her capable, smart people can come out of it. She hesitated, then insinuated that maybe there was a reason it has the reputation it does, considering I’m just working at a coffee shop for a living. Ouch.

I could go on and on with examples, but none of it matters. Pride, in this sense, is a terrible thing. Pride causes us to grit our teeth when someone suggests they’re above us. Pride causes us to make hurtful remarks when the easiest thing to do is say thank you and hang up the phone. Pride drives us to prove prove prove…rather than being free to enjoy our lives as they are…without explanation.

So, I’m letting it go. All of it. For as long as I can. : ) And then you can kick me in the teeth and remind me to let it go. Again.

Why some, and not others?

I think part of it may come from highly social communities. I remember people being really socially exhausted in Nashville, so it was more likely for walls to go up with some folks. It wasn’t necessarily to be a jerk (although it comes off that way), it was just a defense mechanism to preserve our energy for the people we feel more naturally drawn to.

And while I think boundaries are good…I don’t think choosing who we are (and aren’t) kind to is an okay way to go about it. I see this tendency far too often in myself. And I hate it. So…it’s time to wage war on myself. To painstakingly cut that out of my character. To offer grace to those who aren’t kind to me…because I understand where their reasons may spring from. And to those I’ve treated in this manner…I’m very, very sorry.

For now…here’s another Spain peek:

Aslan's in Madrid! With Edmund and Lucy!

I forgot my sunglasses. Bad. Move.

What mealtimes look like these days.

Google sponsors Madrid's Gay Pride & Owen enjoys a Corozon Bandera Gay (he was not *at* the parade, fyi)

The day we *thought* we were getting Owen's cast off.

Again, please cue the “You care too much, Rachael. Get a grip.” theme song.

I was walking through Jardines de Retiro, a beautiful park in the middle of Madrid. I happened upon a small lake surrounded by ducks and geese. Not an unusual sight…until I spotted one female duck squaking and quacking as several male ducks held her pinned to the ground. I got closer, and two of the male ducks had their beaks around her neck, holding her tightly to the ground as they, ahem, had their way with her.

I didn’t want to look like the crazy American, by swatting the ducks away…but as more and more Spaniards gathered with looks of horror or sadness on their faces, I thought it was okay to intervene. But even tossing my shopping bag at them and yelling at them to “scram” didn’t stop them. She fought hard…and managed to escape a few times…but they kept getting her back. To the point that she didn’t have many feathers left on her head afterward (the male ducks pulled them out when they were trying to hold her down).

Someone…please…tell me they’re just ducks. And that this is the way it’s been happening for as long as the world has been turning? Por favor?

…I knew what I was going to be like down the road. What my convictions were going to be…what my views and thoughts would be.

…I could focus more.

…someone else could be the adult.

…my bangs didn’t have a cowlick right where they part.

…I wouldn’t get so many headaches.

…more people liked to video chat.

…chocolate was free and available on every street corner.

…I understood people more.

…that I would be understood more.

…men and women could get along, without being weird.

…my skin would clear up.

…I wouldn’t break out in hives during auditions.

Sometimes I wish…

…words would come to me more freely. And I could write a press release without reaching down to play with my dog instead.

One of the top five things I was nervous about in coming to Los Angeles was the idea of becoming really self-focused. Not only because the industry I coming out here for is notoriously self-serving…but also because the city in general lends itself to being the same way. With all the billboards and fame and good-lookingness and blah blah blah.

Weellllllllll. I did it. I got swept up in all the excess. And while I was complaining to one of my roommates about why – basically – people didn’t act like I wanted them to, she opened her mouth…and humbled me.

She said it was probably a condition of me needing everything to be about me, and putting myself before others.

And she’s right. So, so right.

It would have been one thing if she and I weren’t friends…or if there was an assumption of intimacy…but this girl has taken the time to get to know me, has been kind and encouraging from the start. So hearing this truth from her caused me to step back and take the time to evaluate.

Embarrassing? Yes. But I’m so. so. so glad to have someone in my life willing to be that up front…and speak the truth in love. And I hope that all of you have, or find, one person to be that kindly honest in your lives.

Now then, to tackle the rest of the issue. Blergh.