140 Characters of Secrecy

Today, I wanted to write a really long tweet, but then I remember that that's a blog.

But anyway, yeah, I'm on twitter. And I have a confession to make about WHY I like twitter. I know very few people on it.

Twitter, among my group of friends and hometown, isn't largely popular. Facebook, however, is. I have 535 friends on facebook, and 35 twitter followers. I say things on twitter that I would never in a million-billion-gazillion years put on facebook. Why? Because there are several people on my facebook that can't take a joke. I don't talk about twitter a lot because I don't want a bunch of people to have access to the 140 characters of snark that I sometimes post whenever I'm grumpy. And because both this blog and twitter are safe places for me to say what I want, I do.

I would never put "Going to the doctor. What panties do I have that say 'I'm fun and young, but not a slut," on facebook. It talks about panties for goodness sakes! My mom doesn't even like when I say the word "procrasturbation" on here. Sometimes my twitter blows up into segments of 140 characters of snark that facebook is not a safe enough environment to post.

Twitter is my dirty, little, not-so-secret. I can't behave everywhere!

A no-win embarrassment

So you remember how I'm (as a blogger) supposed to be transparent and tell you when I'm imperfect and when embarrassing things happen to me. Yeah, this is one of those times. And no, it has nothing to do with the series I'm trying to do.

This happened this morning.

I had my international law class today with my favorite professor. This guy is hilarious. He's funny, he makes fun of everyone, and you may often wonder if he's allowed to say the things that he does. He's from Cameroon, so he's even worse with international students. I refer to him (by the people who have never had him) as my "Crazy, funny, incredibly politically incorrect professor". I even had Chavo come with me to one of his classes so he would know what one of this guy's classes is like.

I take notes for this professor. As in, he takes the notes from my class, writes down what I may have missed, and uses it for his next class so that he knows the same things were said in both classes.

And so, after class today, I went to hand him my notebook and told him that I'll be missing class on Friday. He asked me if I was going to the football game, and I said no, that I have a doctor's appointment on Friday morning (Friday was the only time I could get in, and I have to go home to do it, so yeah).

What was his response? "Oh, your Guatemalan fiance knock you up?"

After shrieking "NOOOOOO!" he laughed his head off. "It could happen!" he said.

How do I respond to that? There is not a single way I could respond that would be a good rebuttal to that. Because no matter what my response is, I am talking about my sex life. I did not realize this until I said "No, it couldn't!" Yeeeeah. Ginger Spice just outed herself as a vv---vv--vvvirgin, to her professor, in front of several students (who I can only hope to dear sweet Jesus that they weren't conscious of what was going on).

Professor? He kept laughing. I promise, he's a good guy. He just gets good laughs out of shocking people. (He once asked a classmate from Nicaragua if he was tired from working at Taco Bell. ) So I am not his first victim. He's still my favorite professor, even though he just embarrassed the living daylights out of me.

So yeah, that just happened. And when something embarrassing happens, instead of pretending it never happened, I posted it on here... like a crazy person. A crazy person that mentioned her lack of a sex life to her professor out of embarrassment and is now blasting it on her blog.


Wow. I really need to see a doctor. I think I might be crazy.

I promise...

I haven't forgotten. I'm still here. I'm still working on the next big post. I want it to be a good one.


Just be patient.

But when would I have the time to have that mental breakdown?

Well, I got about halfway through this blog post before it deleted itself, so I'm having a hard time starting this back up again. That, and I'm a little nervous. I regretted saying that I would post “tomorrow” yesterday. But I did.

There is a new chapter in my life coming up, and with that, I have a huge question:

What does it mean to be a Christian wife?

I felt like the best way to START answering this question would be to look through the Proverbs 31 passage about the wife of noble character (I'll just call her Noble Wife). This is one of the very very few passages that I've read through about 100 times. Most of which, as I read, I felt like this chick.

I always imagine Noble Wife as a sewing, knitting, bake-selling, homeschooling, blue jean skirt-wearing, tea-drinking, crock pot cooking, homemaking, perfect mom. But really, really... REALLY. There's no way I could do even half of those things. My mom has to show me with strict detail how the crock pot works, every time she asks me to use it!!! And I'm pretty sure the last time I wore a blue jean skirt was in the 5^th grade. Anyways...

But for those that haven't ever read that wonderful bit of intimidation, we're going to walk through it, and I'm going to point out some things that I think are 1) awesome, 2) terrifying, or 3) impossible. You'd be surprised. Even Noble Wife isn't perfect! Just wait and see!

10A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
12 She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
13 She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.

She works with eager hands! With that said, I have a confession to make. When Chavo asked my parents about marrying me, they warned him that I must always have something to do, or I get all depressed and crazy. According to my mom, I don't even have to like what I'm doing, but I have to have something to do. And I must have something to procrastinate. I know, I'm a freak.

14 She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
15 She gets up while it is still night;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her female servants.

Ok, there are a couple of things I want to point out about this. Noble Wife gets up EARLY. Like, really early. I get up moderately early, but not “before the sun” early. That's just crazy talk for me.

Oh! And another thing. Noble Wife has female servants! Even she can't get everything done! I would like to change “female servants” to “babysitters” or “schoolteachers”, not because I think they're servants to cater to the wife's needs, but because Noble Wife's kids are mentioned very rarely in this passage. Do you know what this means?! Noble Wife doesn't homeschool!

BUT I AM NOT BASHING HOMESCHOOLING WITH THAT STATEMENT! I could never homeschool. Never ever ever. Nope. Couldn't do it. But now I feel better knowing that not even Noble Wife homeschooled. And I have a rebuttal for those ladies that are all “If you really love your kids and Jesus, you would homeschool.” Nope. Not for me. And I may counter them by sending my future child around in a shirt like this

16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.

Noble Wife can does cool stuff with her money. You know, vineyards are cool. And she has earnings, so she works. And Noble Wife must work out if her arms are strong for all the crap she has to do (ahem... errands she must run). So, she exercises. Go her!

18 She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.

Nighttime is my most productive time. That's when the “last minute” starts.

20 She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.

Missions. Everywhere.

21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.

Wanna know how I read this? She crafts! She DIY's!

23 Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.

Maybe she even “etsy's” (www.etsy.com). Either way, she sells her crafts! I'm a big fan of that.

25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

Something hard that is expected, but we all need to learn to do.

27 She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.

She makes sure her kids get their homework done and that everyone is doing what they're supposed to! And I'm assuming she doesn't pass out on the couch and watch a marathon of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Whatever, I'm still going to watch Law and Order: SVU whenever I am doing all of these crafts, selling them on etsy and making all these clothes.

28 Her children arise and call her blessed;

I was wondering where her kids were. I wonder if they ever paint on the walls or steal cookies.

her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

Wanna know what I didn't see anywhere in that passage? Noble Wife doesn't always have a clean house. Now, she does watch over the affairs of her house, but does that mean “clean”. I would think that if keeping an organized and tidy home were expected, then it would have been written in there. And Noble Wife has female servants, who I'm sure take care of the kids so that Noble Wife doesn't go bananas with carting kids around while she buys fields and such.

But notice how this passage is not called “The Perfect Wife”, its called the Wife of Noble Character. That's because Perfect Wife doesn't exist. She doesn't. And think about the chaos that would ensue if she did. I would imagine that antidepressant sales would go up because who could live up to that? Noble Wife is possible to live up to. I like Noble Wife. She sounds like someone I could grab a coffee with (when she's not so busy). Or someone that would blog. Not someone who would judge or be ugly.

I think I can work on becoming Noble Wife. Perfect wife, however, can go clean my house. Maybe I'll hire her as a female servant!


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I hope you enjoyed the very first post of what I hope to be a very good series. If there was something that you disagree with, or something you would really like Chavo or I to talk about on here, let us know! This is a blogging community effort, so don't be shy.

Dun dun DUN!!

Well everyone, I have been harping on a major thing that I want to do here. It will be interesting. It will be thought-provoking. It may even be a touch offensive for some! With this new chapter in my life coming up, I want to play this game well. But I can't play if I don't know the rules.

I'm talking about what it means biblically to be a wife.

Because I think the Bible got it right, and the church is screwing it up. We lost it. We missed the boat. We argue between whether we should be a Proverbs 31 wife or an Ephesians 5 one. What does it mean to "submit to one's husband"? Is a crock pot a necessary item according to Sarah or Hannah or Ruth?

In the next few weeks, I want to tear up society's view of a Christian wife and build one directly out of the Bible.

But, I also don't want this to be an "I am woman, hear me roar! And watch me not shave my legs," series. So, bring in the man's side of the equation...

Its Chavo! Look at all his manliness!

Chavo and I are going to spear-head this topic together. But its not just the two of us either. I've got a team of married and unmarried ladies that are helping out. So get ready, because this is going to get CAH-razy!

First post starts tomorrow! Are you excited? You should be.

A Happy Farewell

Yesterday, I got to spend some more time with the awesome Bekka (www.onerighteousbabe.blogspot.com). We had some good talk and it really got me thinking. We talked about difficult blog posts, briefly. And believe me, there's a thought-provoking, kinda offensive, whirlwind one coming up in days to come. But this is not the one.

Today, I am bidding farewell. Not to this blog, or you, or school, or whatever.

Before mine and Chavo's semi-serious relationship took a hard turn into serious, there was something that I really wanted to do. Something that not many people liked: like my parents, or grandparents, or generally people who cared for my safety.

I wanted to go on the World Race (www.theworldrace.org). I wanted to do missions all over the planet for 11 months, plus training and debrief, so a year. I wanted to go so bad that my stomach would hurt. Admittedly, some of my reasons weren't the best (I mean, its really freaking cool, you'd think the same thing, so sue me). But I wanted to do missions all over the world, and this seemed like the best way to do it.

And as I write this post in my journal in the middle of service (oh, get over it, I'm paying attention), my heart kind of aches...

I am bidding farewell to the World Race. I am laying down my plan because of the one thing that could and would stop me:

God's plan is different... and better.

I am closing that door because to keep it open would be to ignore God telling me that "This isn't it. I have a better idea. Trust me".

I am not saying goodbye to missions. I will do missions, be it Malaysia, Mexico, or Monroe, Louisiana, but I will do missions. As Chavo and I met because of missions, together, we see it being a very important part of our lives.

So, Chavo and I will be continuing with missions as a married couple, but that means I must give up the World Race now. Therefore, I say farewell and look on to a happy horizon.

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Soon to come is going to be huge. Its going to make you think, and it may even offend a few people. So get ready!

Being "That Girl"

Today is the start of Midterm Week. That's right, folks: we can no longer make the excuse that we don't have time to do anything because its the beginning of the semester. We are at the official middle of the semester, suckas!

The good news for me is that I only have two midterms this week, so I'm driving to Houston to pick up the Chavo. I'm pretty excited about it.

But anyway, I am sitting in the middle of the quad on this warm with a cool breeze kind of day, thinking about that fun little April post about the terrible terrible thing that happened. If you haven't read it, its kind of the highlight of my blog, and it will greatly entertain you when my other posts do not.

For a while after the terrible thing happened, I was known as “that girl”. You know. “That girl that blogs when embarrassing things happen to her” or “That girl that showed her butt to the whole quad” or “that redheaded girl that belched herself into oblivion after pulling her dress back down” or “that girl that cried in class because her professor yelled at her”. Yeah. And one thing I've noticed about when I get upset and start crying hysterically is that I say I really don't want to be “that girl”. I never want to be “that girl”.

I just realized this, but I am that girl. I make my own definition of that girl, and I am her.

I am that girl:

...who cries in public when people embarrass her.

… who talks incessantly about Guatemala.

… who wears a dress to the drugstore because its laundry day and she refuses to go to CVS in her pajamas.

… who will eat popcorn and dry cereal for dinner so she doesn't have to go to the grocery store for a few more days.

… who blogs for no other reason but to blog.

… who gets her inspiration for anything by watching a movie about it. Don't mess with me after I watch the Karate Kid.

… who prays that God lets Chavo know what a jerk he's being, when I'm the one that's being a jerk.

… who calls her mama when she makes a bad grade.

… who holds her nose prematurely when she got baptized.

… who doesn't like songs where the singer says her name, because it makes me feel weird. (I am not Nicki Minaj, and my name is not Carrie, so I'm not very fly oh-my, its a little bit scary.)

… who bakes on big exam weeks so she has something to procrastinate with. Brownies instead of international law. Cookies instead of American foreign policy. Cupcakes instead of politics of poverty.

… who gives really lame excuses when she doesn't do something.

… who got engaged really really young.

… who will argue you into the ground on immigration policies.

… who calls her mom when she feels the slightest bit sick.

… who still calls her father “daddy”.

… who calls God “daddy” sometimes in prayer when I'm feeling really informal.

… whose main grocery trip is based on lunchables and pop tarts.

… who was always the perky drive-thru girl at starbucks, even at 6 am.

The list goes on and on. I am “that girl”. Its horribly embarrassing sometimes, but it is who I am. And while I may not be the most likeable girl on this planet, I can think of a few people that at least can tolerate it. Its working for me, being who I am. I hope that being you is working for you. I'm sure it is.

Are you “that boy” or “that girl”? What makes you it?