Becoming Jane

There is a movie with Anne Hathaway starring as Jane Austen called Becoming Jane. I saw it and liked it if only because I love Jane Austen and it is a sappy love story.

But, I have watched three of Jane’s books made into movies today and now am on a fictional rendition of her life. I am thinking in Victorian English and I won’t be surprised if this blog ends up sounding a bit “Jane-ish”

Anyway, my reason for explaining all of this is… I can see myself becoming somewhat like Jane Austen. She was single her whole life, took care of her sister (who was also unmarried) and her widowed mother until Jane died at 41. She wrote a series of vastly popular novels about love and marriage. Some of them were not published until after her death. She was a woman and in her day women did not get published and those who did were at times considered a bit shameful.

I know, I am only 23. I am not even close to being an old maid, and much further away from being a vastly popular author. (I don’t see this blog bringing me any closer to the latter and much nearer to the former) But, like Jane I prefer my imaginary heroes, the men in my books, much more than men in real life. “The only way to get a Mr. Darcy is to make him up yourself” I am dreaming of Mr. Darcy but only finding “Mr E’s” (read Pride and Prejudice and Emma to figure out the analogy)

As it seems from this movie, “Jane Austen Regrets” many men are in love with her wit and charm but she turns them all away or they get tired of chasing her and find someone else to love. One day she wakes up and find herself old, still loving men in reality but preferring those in her books. But, she is 40 and she doesn’t know that she is going to die soon.

I may end up like this. Never satisfied with the ones I find and therefore making up my own and being more pleased with them. Happiness in marriage only happening in my books and never for me personally.

Newest fear, Becoming Jane
Love to all!
Lizzi

The Biggest Loser

I do not watch television much. I do enjoy The Antiques Road Show, Globetrekker (which I sadly haven’t seen in about a year or more), What not to wear, and The Biggest Loser. I haven’t found much else to watch beyond these three.

My newest addiction is The Biggest Loser on NBC 10. It is about a bunch of obese people on a workout ranch trying to lose weight and win the grand prize of 25,000 dollars. Every Tuesday night between 8 and 10pm my parents and I are stuck to the couch watching fat people die on treadmills. Well, there is a little more to the show than that.

This show could be the reason for my newest frettings about my weight. I am not fat by any possible definition of the word but, I am afraid I will get there… slowly, each serving of ice cream and every chicken bacon ranch cheese steak I eat at work. (just typing it makes me want one)

I’ve never been fat, in fact at times my family has worried about me being way too thin. In Chile I put on some weight, enough to make me worry about buying a new wardrobe. How did fat people get to that weight? I’m sure they didn’t just wake up one day fat. It came on slowly in miniscule amounts with French fries, ice cream, and chicken bacon ranch cheese steaks.

So, with these ponderings I have determined to watch what I eat and… exercise! I know I always talk about running and exercising but, this time I will actually do it. In fact I have started tonight, I did sit ups. :) How many? I don’t know, I don’t count. I just do it until I get tired of doing them. So, probably no more than 15. It’s a good start.

Now begins my life long attempt to never, ever make it on The Biggest Loser.
Love to all!
Lizzi

“With eyes wide open to the differences of the God we want and the God who is, but will we trade our dreams for His or are we caught in the middle.” ~ Caught in the Middle, Casting Crowns.

Recently I have been completely “enthralled” with the latest Casting Crowns cd, “The Altar and the Door.” Partially because every time I listen to it, if I close my eyes I can imagine myself in the place where I first fell in love with that cd (a cabin dorm room in a camp in Chile)

The real and persisting reason is with every song I am struck with the validity and impact of the words. Whether they (the group) is praising God, lamenting past mistakes, or praying for a lost friend, the lyrics are heartfelt and deep. I have found that so many Christian artists have “fluff” lyrics. Every song is about a. themselves, b. how God loves them, or c. that God saved them and they are going to heaven. All of this is may be true but, the songs have no depth or personality or real spiritual meaning.

The other thing I find so often in current Christian music is the vagueness of the lyrics. Half the time I cannot figure out exactly what the song is talking about, let alone if it is Christian or not.

Now, I am not talking about groups like Lifehouse and ( ) who have moral, often uplifting songs. I am talking about singers and song writers who attempt to write a song about God but can’t even mention His name; like they are afraid if it says His name their song will not get on all the radio stations. So, their songs of praise to God often get confused with odes to a girlfriend or a boyfriend.

Casting Crowns sample:

“Who am I that the Lord of all the earth would care to know my name, would care to feel my hurt? Who am I am, that the Bright and morning star would choose to light the way for my ever wandering heart? Not because of who I am but because of what you’ve done, not because of what I’ve done but because of who you are.”
~ Who am I Casting Crowns, self titled cd

“Here I am Lord and I’m drowning in your sea of forgetfulness. Chains of yesterday surround me, I yearn for peace and rest. Don’t want to end up where you found me and it echoes in my mind, keeps me awake tonight. Lord you’ve cast my sin as far as the east is from the west and I stand before you now as though I’ve never sinned but today I feel like I’m just one mistake away from you leavin’ this way. Jesus can you show me just how far the east is from the west… from one scarred hand to the other.”
~ One Mistake Away, The Altar and the Door

Love to all!
Lizzi

Deadlines

I have always known that I do not enjoy deadlines. Which to me means every bit of what the very word implies… dead or death- to cease to live, and lines- a certain geographical or figurative location, boundary. In other words, “the point at which you must cease to live.” I take the word quite seriously and therefore have avoided or casually missed every deadline ever set for me.

I prefer to write on my own time when the inspiration hits me. I do not want someone to tell me when and what to write. Quite the obstinate, bratty little girl I am, I know.

Now, once again, I am faced with deadlines. (The very word gives me chills.) I have decided to take my writing hobby to the next level and sign up for a two year writing course through the Christian Writers Guild. TWO YEARS of DEADLINES!!! Every two weeks I have a list of writing assignments to turn in to my mentor or writing coach. They tell me what to write, how to write it, and when to write it.

I guess, if I want to finish this thing- and do it well, if I want to be the accomplished writer I’ve always dreamed of being; I am going to have to suck it up and do what they tell me to.

Well, with that said, my first deadline is October 1st which is on Wednesday and I still have half of the assignments to do. :) Guess I better get to work and try to be a big girl. (which would mean leaving my bratty, childish self behind for a while)

Love to all!
Lizzi

Nonsense

I am going to write a bit of nonsense in this blog purely as a writing exercise. I read my blog posts today and realized on paper I am quite a serious person. That made me surprised because I am never serious about anything in person! (Usually on a daily basis that is). So, here it goes.

Every superhero has their enemy, their arch nemesis. I, being the heroine of my own life story, also have an arch nemesis. The enemies I face change with time and place and on how soon I can defeat them. I have found one enemy that is unconquerable- crickets.

Black, ugly, loud bugs that have a fondness for chewing on clothing. I HATE THEM. This year we have an epidemic of these creatures on the Briggs “farm.” They are under our cabinets, our couches, in our closets and any other dark place they can find to hide. When I come into my room I must announce my arrival so they (the enemy) can run and hide before I turn on the light and discover them.

While Sarah (the little sister) was home and an unfortunate cricket happened to emerge while we were in the room the sighting would end up in a slapping, jumping, yelling match.

The scene: We are both watching tv on our wonderfully comfy leather sofas and suddenly Sarah whispers my name, “Lizzi, give me your flip flop.” She is squinting intently at a spot on the floor about two feet away from me with her tongue between her teeth, poised over her top lip. (That is her “something is going to die” look) I catch the enemy in my sight and slowly slip off my neon green flip flops, one for me and one for her. We take our positions.

The next minute is a flurry of slapping and flashing green. We jump around trying to keep it from getting under anything and smack as hard as we can, missing it half the time. Finally we are victorious, settling back in our spots on the couch and our enemy’s carcass lying crushed on the floor. We leave the bodies for daddy to pick up :)

My theory is though, if I leave the bodies around any cricket in the vicinity will see the corpse of his dead friends and think, “I better not enter here, this is the cricket massacre place.” and turn around and leave. This may sound disgusting but, after leaving one dead cricket on the floor I have a week without seeing another one in the same room.

Maybe autumn will give me some relief.
Love to all!
Lizzi

A Scary moment

Friday I worked; thirteen hours running around with food, drinks and such (waitressing). Had an insane night (which will probably be the subject of another blog). Got home, ate dinner and sat down at my usual, favorite spot- the computer!

While I was checking my email and etc. my dad casually asks, “So, did you feed the cats this morning?” Why does he always ask me this? I always feed the cats (well, almost always) Now, if I only had the two stupid cats, Teddy and Bob, I might always forget to feed them. But, the cats will always be fed as long as I have George.

** Me- “Yeah, I fed them.”
Daddy- “Ok, was George there this morning?”
** Me- “Yes.”
Daddy- “Did you happen to see any of the cats when you got home?”
** Me- “Well, I saw one running away. But I don’t know which one it was?” What was he getting at??

Daddy- “Oh, well, I saw a cat George’s color on the side of the road”
** Me…… Silence, Silence. I think my heart may have stopped beating.

There is a special bond between a girl and her best friend. Some one to hang out with, to talk to for hours on end, to laugh with- even if this friend happens to be small, furry, and orange. There have been times in my life when I realized that George was my ONLY friend. (Which is pretty sad when I think about it now) I have a friend that listens to me whenever I want to talk, doesn’t bore me, doesn’t get mad at me, doesn’t scold me, doesn’t judge me, is always around (when I’m home anyway), and who scratches up the back deck, bites me when I try to pick him up, and leaves dead moles at my door. He is perfect!

Now, he was possibly lying on the side of the road, stiff and ripe to be buried. I’m sad to say that my first thought was.- “Oh crud, I wonder if daddy will let me use his gun to shoot the two stupid cats so I can get a kitten.”

I didn’t say anything, I just sat there for as long as I could possibly stay still. Finally I got up and went out the back door yelling his name to kingdom come. He didn’t come. HHmmm- maybe I should start asking for that gun, it might take a while to convince my dad that getting another George was necessary to my sanity.

I went back inside, through the house, and out the front door- and called again like my life depended on it. Bob, a stupid cat, meowed and jumped up on the steps. “I don’t want you! Stupid cat!”

George came from around the corner. My heart started beating again. I scooped him up and he made a deep growling noise in his throat. I didn’t care. Him not being dead got me out of having to shoot the stupid cats. I told George I was glad he wasn’t dead and he just kept on growling at me.

Just a bit of nonsense.
Love to all!
Lizzi

Pero no estoy Contenta!

One of the Spanish words for “Happy” is “Contenta” or content. We are taught in Spanish classes in high school that one should actually say, feliz or alegre both of which are correct but, when talking to a native Spanish speaker in Spanish you would tell them that you are “contenta.”

This fact, though it seems trivial, dawned on me a year or so ago. I was independently studying Spanish at the time, preparing for ministry in some Spanish speaking country. It made me realize that- the word happy is alright but to be content is a better form of happy. While in Chile when I would tell people that I was “contenta” I would often stop and think, “am I content?” Usually the answer would be yes, I was loving the trip, satisfied (usually) with the work I was able to do there, and thoroughly happy and grateful that God had given me the opportunity. Now, when people ask me how I am doing or how it is to be back home in Spanish I would have said, “Estoy muy contenta.” It is a good thing I do not have to answer in Spanish here in the U.S. because “Estoy muy contenta” would be lying. I am not content.

“So, big deal!” You are thinking- “who is content? And why does it matter?”

“For I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.” Right now, that verse haunts me. To be completely honest and open, here are the things I am not content about:

1. I am only working three days a week, I am not busy enough.
2. My car is broken and not worth fixing, I want (need) a new one.
3. I am 23 and still don’t know what God wants me to do next, I want clear direction (and I want it now!)
4. I am 23 and I am not married and have no boyfriend and therefore - marriage in the near future is unlikely, what I want here is obvious.
5. The list could go on.
Basically, I don't know where my life is going- and with that, I am not content

So, I have just proved to myself that I am not content even though I should be content with whatever stage and place I am in life.

Now, how do I achieve the state of contentedness? There are a lot of “Christian clichés” that would help me in this situation like- “let go and let God” “just trust Him” “Pray about it” but, I don’t want those answers. I want to know what you all (if there is a “you all” out there) would do to fulfill Phil. 4:11 in your life. What would you do to make yourself content with where you are and what you are doing?

If you are reading this and don’t have a blog name to leave me a comment- just send me a message in my facebook inbox, because I’d really like to know what you think.

Love to all!
Lizzi