The "L" Word (and I'm not talking about love....)

Yes, another blog post. Can you tell that I am avoiding my assignments? This post was originally going to be a response to a note that Alex posted on facebook, however apparently what I wanted to say was beyond the scope of the comments box, so I decided to write it here instead.

The goal of Alex's note was to discuss the importance of male leadership, and the detriment of lust to such leadership. The note was aimed at men, and I'm sure that it would have been very helpful. Recently our church has been doing a series on sexual discipleship. A lot of good things have come from these sermons, and it's been so encouraging to see people begin to deal with issues that eat away at the core of their being. I have to admit, it has been emotionally exhausting, particularly as a woman. Far too many people that I love have suffered from sexual abuse or misuse, and I believe that this kind of abuse is unique in the damage that it wrecks on someone's life. But I digress. I was keen to comment on Alex's remarks about lust from a female point of view.

Within much of the teaching that Christians receive on lust, the common theme is that men are wired to be visually stimulated, and women are wired to be emotionally stimulated. Before I go on, please understand that I completely agree with this. Calvin Roy, who spoke on Sunday night, made a comparison between pornography and Twilight (or, more explicitly, Mills and Boon), which I think was a helpful example. I know many Christian women who love the Twilight series because it is a well-written and engaging piece of literature, which is great. However, in conversations that I have had with non-Christian women who have devoured the series, the emotional thrill of the novel is a powerful turn-on. One friend once exclaimed to me "Oh! It's just SO sexy!". The way that God has wired women is a good and beautiful thing, if it is kept within the covenant of marriage and is used to serve the purpose for which it was created. Yet this is frequently abused. In failing to control our hearts, women fail to "take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Corinthians 10:5).

Whilst I agree with this teaching (that men are predominant visually stimulated and women emotionally stimulated), I think that it comes at the risk of neglecting the reality that women are also visually stimulated. It's important to understand that this operates very differently in women, yet it shouldn't be ignored. The main way that we are turned on or captivated is through our thoughts and emotions - therefore it is easier for women to shift our visually stimulated feelings back into 2nd gear, and in the same motion shift our emotions straight into 5th. Yet God has created women to be emotionally stirred by what she sees, even if it's to a lesser degree than men. You need only spend 10 minutes with a group of non-Christian women* in a public setting to realise that women can be vulgar. They tarnish their integrity and feminine beauty by looking upon men in a way that satisfies their visual lust. They forget that these men are somebody's son, not a boy-toy (I really hate that phrase, but I think it's applicable here). Many women feel justified in commenting about men in a lustful way because they frequently are subjected to inappropriate comments by men. I know acutely how horrible this is, but it's part of the pain that we experience as women in a fallen world. This kind of treatment certainly does not provoke me to look upon my brothers inappropriately. It is so wonderful to know that it is certainly by no strength of our own that we are able to control sinful desires.

In Alex's note, he mentioned Matthew 5:29-30: "If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your body to go into hell".

Girls, this certainly isn't just applicable to men. This passage really speaks to how imperative it is to separate ourselves from sin. Visual lust is certainly an issue for women, even though it manifests itself more powerfully in men. God has called His daughters to be women of unfading beauty. To possess a beauty that lasts. We don't need to captivate the lusts of our brothers, nor do we need to desire emotional or visual satisfaction from our brothers. Rather it is the beauty of a "gentle and quiet spirit which is of great worth in God's sight". 1 Peter 3: 5 says "For this is the way that holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful". How wonderful that our Father is captivated by our sight. How wonderful that we can place our hope in the strong and loving hands of our Father. Why would we crave to be in the sight of anyone else?

*Just a little disclaimer.. this obviously isn't applicable to all non-Christian women, it was merely an example from experiences that I have had.

The complicated wonder that is female.....

In many ways, I am your typical female.

I have no sense of direction whatsoever. It took me 45 minutes to find the Pye's house in West End and I often find myself lost in riverside gardens. I cannot read a map unless it is upside down, or at least facing in the direction of the the imaginary road in my head. I am terrible at parking. I can be overly-emotional, overly-clingy, and overly-dramatic. I will spend 10 minutes talking about a grasshopper, a cute little girl and a pencil and expect Mark to understand that I am explaining the content of my SOSE lecture, without actually mentioning the words SOSE or lecture. My thought processes are often convoluted, to say the least. I like flowers. I love coffee and chocolate. I feel cranky if I go for long periods of time without coffee or chocolate. I can't help but go all mushy when I see a beautiful baby. I frequently lack logic and rationality.

In a lot of ways, I fit the stereotype. However, there are many ways that I don't. One of my non-stereotypically female attributes was brought to my attention today. I don't particularly enjoy clothes shopping. Obviously this is partly to do with my Uni student budget, however I really don't derive intense pleasure, fulfillment and excitement from buying clothes. Today, I needed to buy a dress. Mark's graduation is at the end of the year, and the only formal dress that I own is a bridesmaids dress that I have already worn on two occasions (other than the wedding). Because this is a special occasion, I thought that it would be nice to buy something new. Plus, with Uni becoming increasingly busy, today presented a convenient opening for a spot of shopping. So, armed with a coffee, I headed to Stockies and entered the first dress shop that I came across. I had a quick squiz and noticed two dresses that were quite nice. I tried on the first dress: didn't like it. I tried on the second dress: quite liked it. I opened the dressing room curtain and said to the shop keeper "Do you think this looks ok?". She replied "Yes dear, that looks lovely!". That was good enough for me. I got changed, bought the dress (which was a great price, hurrah!) and left the shop in less than 10 minutes. I hadn't even finished my coffee. That, dear reader, is what you call efficient shopping.

Now, this isn't to say that I simply took the lazy option rather than looking for a dress that I really liked. This dress is very lovely. It's made up of beautiful colours and is a style that I quite like (long and kind of hippy-like apparently). When it comes to clothes shopping, you need to know what you are looking for and what you like, otherwise you will waste hours and come away poor and exhausted. There are about 1000 different kinds of dresses that I wouldn't even consider because they are either inappropriate, gaudy or strange; so I don't waste my time looking at them. Even as I write this, I'm aware of how 'male' this is sounding (i.e. logical).

If you are one of those women who enjoy shopping; more power to you. Lots of women enjoy the social bonding phenomenon that is window shopping. I'd much rather spend time outdoors. However I'm so glad that we've all been made so differently. God knew what he was doing when He only created one of me. All of that said... to my female readers; I would encourage you to try efficient shopping sometime. It may prove to dramatically decrease frustration levels and free up more time for coffee, chocolate, figuring out how to get your car out of the car park, and allowing for the inevitability of getting lost on the way home.

Warning: Cynicism ahead....

Those of you who frequent Joel's blog will have noticed his disappointing lack of cynicism of late. In his most recent post, he even went so far as to describe his current state of being as "bouncing around in a world full of sunshine, lollypops and rainbows". Very disappointing. Those of you who know me will realise that I am an eternal optimist. Even when I am sad, I am usually happy as well. I once had two yellowy-orange pieces of fruit that I was convinced were oranges. They certainly couldn't have been lemons; they were clearly the shape of oranges and had a slight orangey tinge to their skin. However, upon eating the first "orange", I realised that it was the single most sour piece of fruit that I had ever eaten. But not to worry, I still had one more "orange", which I hadn't yet lost faith in, and proceeded to eat. They were both lemons. No doubt about it.

That somewhat convoluted orange/lemon story was just one example of how I tend to hope for the best in most situations. You know what they say; if life hands you lemons, hope that they are oranges. However, I also value consistency, and Joel's unprecedented lack of cynicism has thrown my understanding of life, the universe and everything into turmoil. Despite my naturally optimistic nature, I can't help but find this sudden change deeply disturbing.

SO. In an attempt to even things out a little, I thought that I would devote this post entirely to my own brand of cynicism. Uni has recently shifted into fifth gear and I don't see much opportunity for a reprieve over the next two months, so it shouldn't be difficult to think of some things that annoy me. Here is a list of things that have recently infuriated me for your misguided enjoyment:

• It annoys me that for 3 years now, without fail, my lecturers gleefully inflict a mountain of assignments on me that are due directly after lecture recess, and have the audacity to ask "Did you enjoy your relaxing break?".
• My SOSE lecturer says "SOZE".
  
• My history lecturer says "histowy" (although, granted, he has a speech impediment).
  
• The American cohort of students in my history class know more about Australian history than I do, and they certainly appear more interested.
  
• American accents.
  
• Unit plans.
  
• The current trend for ECE lecturers to transfer our subjects to external mode.
  
• Unit plans.
  
• Dust storms.
  
• Having asthma in a dust storm.
  
• Having asthma and a cold in a dust storm.
  
• Having asthma and a cold and going for a run in a dust storm.
  
• Lacking common sense.
  
• People who visit coffee shops in groups and pretend to enjoy each others company whilst spending the entire time facebooking each other on their iphones. Lame.
  
• Instant coffee.
  
• Computers.
  
• Webquests/wikis/bubblus/imagination/delicious clouds/any other form of ICT tool with a stupid name that I am supposed to be able to utilise in an educational context.
  
• Unit plans.
  
• Education Queensland's relaxed stance on prompt employee payments.
  
• People who think that "group work" is an optional componet of group assignments.
  
• Lecturers who think that group assignments are actually beneficial to anyone.
  
• Discovering that you have a hole in the clothes that you are wearing when you are already out.
  
• Discovering that you have toothpaste on your shirt when you are already out.
  
• Having to make jokes about the holes in your clothes or toothpaste on your shirt to alleviate the awkwardness. Nothing like making an awkward situation less awkward by firstly making it more awkward.
  
• Forgetting to wear shoes to church on Sunday night at Calvary.
  
• Having people look at you as if you require additional intercessory prayer simply because you forgot to wear shoes to church.
  
• Having to wear shoes.
  
• Drinking a cup of tea whilst writing a blog and spilling it on the keyboard... rage...
  
• Coffee shop waiters who try to pretend that saying "Thanks a-latte!" isn't hilarious.
  
• Demonstrating to a friend in a coffee shop how patronising it is to click your fingers at the staff, and accidently summoning a waiter in the process.
• Having to apologise for accidentally being a jerk.
  
• Unit plans.
  
• People who insist on telling me stories about people who have died or been knifed in the face whilst in PNG. Really don't want to know.
  
• The unwritten social rule that says you are less of a woman if your hair is messy.
  
• People who say "Teacher's have an easy job - just look at all of the holidays they get!!".
• Australians who ask me where my accent is from (???)... perhaps I also have a speech problem...
• People who print pretty pictures on tissues. Why would you put a cute little puppy dog on a piece of tissue that serves no other purpose than to.. well.. I don't need to explain that one...
  
• Unit plans

End rant. Now that the universe has returned to a state of balance, I will return to my usual optimistic self :)

What are you really hungry for?

Oprah really is a cultural phenomenon of our time. I mean really... her patterns of weight loss and weight gain alone are followed by millions worldwide. During high school Emma Pye and I would leave school during our lunch break, grab some drive-through KFC, and watch Oprah. Sometimes these KFC/Oprah sessions would spill over into our math lessons, but that's ok. These were wonderful times of bonding for us. Criticising Oprah and the myriad of guests who appeared on her show provided us with a common ground. Anyway... these days, being the mature adult that I am, I have a much lower tolerance for Oprah. Yesterday at 1pm I relented and turned Oprah on. I watched the episode for about 10 minutes and nearly burst my foofoo valve from annoyance. Let me explain.

Yesterday the feature of Oprah's program was over-weight teenagers. Not just a bunch of kids who had eaten one too many Oreos, but clinically obese children. The interviews with some of these kids were really heart breaking. The teenage years are a difficult time; this is just compounded if you are noticeably different. Oprah called in some of her trusted counselors and the team of enthusiastic Americans endeavored to get to the bottom of what these kids were REALLY hungry for. Because, as many of us know, food addiction is rarely just the result of an unbalanced love of food. I'm sure that sometimes it is, but often food is just a convenient outlet, or area of control, or source of pleasure, or whatever. The kids screamed and cried and shared their pain, their struggles and their anger. After a number of intense documented sessions, Oprah gathered the group of teens in her studio and asked them each individually what they were REALLY hungry for. With smiling glowing facing, each child gave Oprah an answer. "I'm really hungry for a strong constant male figure in my life". "I'm really hungry for acceptance". "I'm really hungry to be seen for who I am inside, not what I look like". Oprah's conclusion was that all of these children are looking for the same thing. They are looking to find who they are, and they want to be seen for who they are. They want to be known. Deeply known. Through Oprah's carefully orchestrated counseling sessions, these children were able to identify the holes that exist in their lives (e.g. constant male figure), and effectively attribute blame to explain and rationalise the emptiness that they experience every day. From here, they can begin to discover who they are, apart from the circumstances that seem to have left gaping holes in their hearts.

Now. I understand that the teenage years are a tumultuous time of confusion and self discovery. I understand how detrimental a lot of difficult circumstances, such as inadequate parent figures, bullying, etc, can be on young lives. I understand that every kid wants to be known for who they are and what is written on their heart, not for how much weight they carry. I understand all of this. However I can't help but wonder how much longer we as a society are going to keep telling our children that the emptiness in their lives can be filled by happy circumstances and by being actively validated by somebody else. Sure, every one loves happy circumstances and being accepted, but these aren't the core issues. These aren't the cause of the deep and penetrating emptiness that they feel inside. Being "known" by somebody else isn't going to take away that pain. Being able to tell the world who you are won't solve your problems. Sorry Oprah, but it won't.

Our Bible study at the moment is reading through 1 Corinthians. This week I spent the whole session lying down on the couch with my eyes closed because I was exhausted (re: viral meningitis), however I was still able to listen to what was being said. 1 Corinthians 8:3 says that "the man who loves God is known by God". Just let that sink in for a moment. Not only are we created by God and loved by our Father, but we are known by God. We are deeply, intricately, eternally, passionately and profoundly KNOWN by God. Healing doesn't come from the world knowing who we are, but from the realisation that we are already known. We are known and loved, even as we are sinners. There are plenty of teenagers with perfect bodies and wonderful fathers who experience the same emptiness that the over-weight girl on Oprah's show described. They are known by lots of people. But this isn't enough. I can't help but disagree with Oprah's plight for young people to "be known" by others and therefore "experience healing". We are already known. If only she knew how wonderful it is to be known by our God!

Under the weather....

One of the worst things that you could ever do to me is drain all of my energy, lock me in a house, and tell me that I can't do anything except watch TV, movies and sleep for days on end. I know that for some people this is probably the closest that they will ever get to experiencing heaven on earth, but I hate it. There is nothing worse than sitting on the couch listening to an old and expressionless ABC weather man suggest that society should invoke a fifth season called Sprummer to accommodate the warmer half of spring, when you could be out doing something useful. There is only so long that I can maintain the already loose grip that I have on my sanity under these conditions. Surely a mental break down of sorts is forthcoming... although I don't think that I have the energy for a mental break down...

Just to back-track a little, I've been unwell for the past 5 or so days. I am in desperate need of human interaction. Whenever I am visited by family or friends I have so little energy that the most significant form of communication I have is falling asleep on top of them. I'm sure that they know I appreciate their presence. However in a dramatic turn of events, today I've been up and about for nearly 2 and a half hours now, so I thought that I would celebrate by blogging.

I've realised recently that there are lots of amusing things about being sick. I've found the number of illnesses/diseases that I have been diagnosed with over the past 5 days very amusing. They have ranged from a cold, the flu, swine flu (of course), a financial investments seminar-induced headache (my initial self-diagnosis prior to ending up in the ED. No seminar is that bad), to meningococcal (my Grandma tends to panic a little) and viral meningitis. The range of 'suggested' treatments have included wet washers, hot water bottles, funny shaped pillows for my neck and a pharmacy worth of various drugs. I'd really just like a good cup of coffee. I think that my sister provided me with the most helpful treatment yesterday when she brought me some chocolate during her lunch break. You learn very quickly to sift through the legitimate suggestions and graciously ignore the rest. However, all of this has made me realise how cared for I am. I love that a ridiculous diagnosis here and there is a wonderful indication of genuine love and concern. God has blessed me with a wonderful family and friends, and I have so much to be thankful for!

Anywho.. energy is waning, so I will wrap it up here. Feel free to leave a comment, if for no other reason than indulge me with some form of human interaction :)

No butts about it...

I have a sad story to share with you all. Before I continue, I might just add a disclaimer: This blog will serve no purpose other than to indulge my self pity.

Right. That's out of the way. Back to my sad story...

I have a broken butt.

Well.. not technically. Or at least not that I know of. I haven't been to see a doctor. Apparently "broken butt" isn't the correct medical terminology anyway. According to the PG version of a medical print out that Mark gave me, pain in the coccyx is called Coccydynia. I think that broken butt is a much more direct diagnosis, so I'm going to stick with that. If you have been following this blog, you will remember that I mentioned falling down the stairs on the yacht during our sailing trip. That was six weeks ago, and my butt is still holding a grudge against my lack of coordination. When I sit on a chair I need a pillow, otherwise I can't stay seated for long stretches of time. When I sit down to study or go to Uni I need to take pain killers first. The only reason that I haven't gone to a doctor is because, from what I can gather, the only treatment is carrying around a donut cushion. Mark suggested that I stitch a donut cushion into my clothing for convenience. I suggested that he was a terrible boyfriend.

Anywho.. the pain isn't unbearable, so hopefully this means that my butt (coccyx, whatever) isn't actually broken. I think it's just angry at me and spiteful and wanting to take revenge for making it fall down stairs. Please learn from my mistakes. Don't fall down stairs. Really. Nobody wants to be the girl with a donut cushion sewn into her jeans.

Student mode....

Today is the first day of semester two. I'm finding that I'm still very much in teacher mode, and therefore making the transition back into student mode is a little difficult. That said, love my kids as I do, it is a nice change to not have to watch 27 six year olds simultaneously. It really is very exhausting. Anywho, like many things in life, some of which I have previously written about in this blog, I am realising that I also have a routine that I follow on the first day of Uni.

Typically, I spend the morning of the first day finding the room codes that my classes will be held in and locating the rooms on a map of JCU. I really struggle with the JCU interactive map because you can't turn it upside down; and as every woman knows, this is the only way that a map can be read. Ideally I would have done this task on the weekend, however it often is left until Monday morning as the weekend is spent recovering from placement. After this I drive to my first class. I'm usually late, but only a little bit late, and it's the stupid interactive map's fault anyway. I walk into the room and take a seat towards the front, because I am far too easily distracted to sit at the back. I then turn to the person seated next to me and ask the same question that I ask at the beginning of every semester; "What class is this?". It takes every ounce of my organisational ability to sit myself down in the right room at roughly the right time... remembering the name of the class is asking too much. I then sit for 50 minutes, focusing all of my energy on listening to what is being said, before performing this sequence of events all over again in the next lecture.

While I was enduring today's SOSE lecture, I stumbled across a new breed of annoying student. I was probably already feeling a little bit annoyed and over-critical because my SOSE lecturer says soze instead of sose. For some reason that bothers me. ANYWAY. We're all familiar with out-spoken mature age students who insist on adding their two cents whenever the lecturer so much as pauses to take a breath. In primary/early childhood circles, these students are usually women. However. Today I discovered the male outspoken mature age student. There is a distinct difference between male and female mature age students in primary/early childhood classes. The female mature age students are usually Mums, and therefore at least have a basic understanding of how young children are wired. Male mature age students, on the other hand, do not. During today's SOSE lecture we were discussing various issues that arise from social and environmental studies that might interest young children. Our friend, the male mature age student in the front row (who by this stage had already spent his two cents as far as I was concerned), raised his hand and said "Six year olds are too busy trying to think about tying their shoes to think about anything else". Now, perhaps I am overly sensitive about comments like this after spending three weeks teaching grade one, however I happily joined the chorus of "tsk tsk tsk's" that erupted from the Mums in the front row. I'm not really sure how you could make it through two and a half years of primary or early childhood education and still have such a poor understanding of children. Now, before you call me a bra-burning tofu-inhaling feminist, I'm sure that not all men have such a naive understanding of children. I have many male friends who seem to understand children quite well. I'm sure that I still have a lot to learn about how children work. But really, at this stage in our degree, we should at least know that kids love to actively explore and question their environment.

End rant. I'm off to another lecture.