This should probably be a journal entry rather than a public blog because what I am about to write will be less than brilliant, less than entertaining, and less than worth reading. But my paper journal is no longer inviting to write in - I think because there is no delete button and if I ever wanted to post a portion of my journal online, I’d first have to type it out. And in the process of typing I’d decide it isn’t worth posting unless I first spend an hour reworking and revising because rumor has it that Zondervan Publishing occasionally visits my blog.
I’m writing from a fancy, schmancy hotel lounge located at the Westin Mission Hill Spa & Resort in Rancho Mirage. For those of you who don’t speak geography or $$$, I’m writing from Southern California just down the road from Palm Springs, a couple hours inland from the Pacific Ocean. My sister and MBA Harvard-in-law booked a suite for the Thanksgiving holiday and that’s why I’m here.
It’s the type of place that reminds me that if I ever have a family, we’ll be going tent camping, because there’s no way in heck we’d ever be able to afford a place like this for family vacations. It really is a bit like paradise and I considered earlier today that perhaps the architects scammed some of their design ideas from the Bible’s description of heaven.
The resort reminds me of the resort I stayed at when my mission team traveled to Mombasa, Kenya (i.e. East Africa) for a 2 night stay at the White Sands Resort. The main difference is the view of the neatly groomed golf course rather than the Indian Ocean. But what is most similar is how alone I felt then, and how alone I feel now. So maybe it’s not so much heaven.
I’m sitting here not wanting to go home, because as soon as I go home, I work. And I’ve been working since June, so I’m not wanting to go back to my dorm world just quite yet – because someone will ask me a question or inform me that a fire alarm is beeping, or someone will have puked and I’ll need to go clean it up, or someone is…oh, wait, that’s confidential. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, I love my girls, I love my RA staff – it’s just hard at times to live where you work.
So I thought maybe I’d get hit on tonight. But this isn’t the type of establishment that brings in a lot of singles, and even if it did, without my surfboard, it probably wouldn’t happen because men only seem to hit on me when I have my board with me. That’s why July is a “good” month – or at least it was this past summer.
Santa is outside. So is a Christmas tree – neatly framed between two Pal m Trees. And it’s snowing, but not really. It’s fake - kind of how I feel about many of my relationships – they feel a little less than authentic. I realized today that even my sister hardly knows me. I miss the days of best friends – Kristen, Billie, Jonna, Sally, Christina, Melissa, and Emily – they’re all gone – or so it seems.
And I just want to be known again – deeply and intimately.
You may be tempted to point out Psalm 139. I already know it.
The question is will I cave in search for a new best friend? My friend Joy recommends e-harmony. But how specific can you get on e-harmony? Can you preference men that are willing to die for the sake of the gospel? And men that would make great co-hosts for my future talk show? Hmmm…
So I did it. Under my favorite fake name, I created a profile and discovered that I have 8 matches in the world - that aren't really matches at all. I've deleted my fake account. Forget e-harmony. :)