2/6

Building. Breaking. God. Maiko.

It's a beautiful moment when the first words out of your best friend's mouth after telling her what you told her are excited.

"That means we'll be closer!"

Whitney, you don't know how much I needed those words, unpromted.

So, yesterday I broke, but today I'm building.
It's kind of the title idea of this, if you haven't noticed.

Life, as cliche as you want to make it, is a series of constant breakings and buildings.
The funny thing about broken bones is that they are normally stronger than they would have been following their natural repair. The human body is a constant source of beautiful little miracles like that - they give me hope when I would otherwise be hopeless.

The other funny thing about broken bones is when you first get them I hear they are quite excrutiating, but typically (unless you've been hit by, say, a sledgehammer,) really not that bad.

But enough about bones.

The plans I'd made for Auburn straight after high school are being altered. Tailored, I guess. I'll stick around for another year, go to lonestar and get my core classes out of the way, mostly for financial security. I really don't want debt when I get out of school and with the life I've been thrown the last six months, I figure I could use some down town between two phases of time to get my world straight.

Last night though, I was pretty furious. I was bitter and angry and I felt like all my 'giving it up' to the Jay-man had been futile and a complete kick in the face.

I was doubting. As soon as I wrote that blog I immediatly thought about Job and what he had faced - his whole life was taken from him and he was blessed ninety times that again, but I am not Job and I will never try to be Job. Job had lived an innocent life.

Not this girl.
I've done my share of cheating and stealing (figuratively).

If anyone would essentially deserve this, it would probably be me. I in no way can account for the blessings of my life - but I'm not Job.
So I didn't throw confetti.

I was pissed.

My mom asked if I thought it was a good idea to keep that blog up, with all the anger and the profane feeling to it. I think our society is getting really deep into this 'instantly starting over' internet business. If I wanted to, I could erase it and you guys wouldn't ever bother to look for it again.

But what's so wrong with being angry? The more we defect to this instant gratification of high-speed living we're going to start repressing our true emotions more and more. We'll teach our kids to be ashamed of comments that 'seem mean' or improper wording should be completely excused with the click of a mouse. You should never, never, ever be ashamed of feeling someway. I've learned with difficulty that the things i try to 'delete' really just sit there.

And they get heavy.
And they hurt.

So, I don't mind if you think I was being ridiculous or even outlandish. I don't care if my facebook statements are over-charged with emoiton sometimes. I'd rather deal with them in the open.

Back to God.
I'm reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller.
Beautiful book.

It seems simple, but 'truth resists simplicity', so it's more complicated than that.
It's a lot of things.
Namely a guy named Don trying to figure out what Christianity is and what Spirituality is and how the two somehow reconcile.

But it has birthed a thought in me.

I think the beautiful thing about Christianity is it takes an otherwise difficult mistake - an angry outburst, a lost scholarship - and even if it may be hypothetically 'contrived' (because I always imagine God pulling out those socks and saying 'not even close', but that's a story for another blog, but I'll tell it) by me, a stupid dinky little human girl-earthling, it can become beautiful.

I think that's where people get scared. They have to admit the mistake, let the blog sit there, let the words erupt, gotta make the problem happen, but then, like something magical (and not illusion) it is...something else.

A dye in a thread in a bundle in a tapestry.

You've got it God. I know, somewhere in there, this celestial plan will come to fruition.
I want to see it now, but I'll be patient.

I'll just wade through it, like I always do, kicking up sparks when I decide to drag my heels like yesterday.
Or something along those lines.
Picture of The Day:

These living artworks are Maiko, Japanese Geisha in training.
There are only a handful of true Geiko and Maiko left in all of Japan (numbers range from 200-500 respectively from the sources I've found) and pretty much the only way you will see them is starting at about 6:00 in the Gion district of Kyoto.

These girls are not prostitutes - they are living relics of culture. They pretty much never sleep with a customer - they value a lifestyle of feminine grace, virtue, and purity. Just looking at them you can see their gentleness, but also, this strange and almost supernatural (cross-time) kind of element. They usually work multiple jobs other than being Maiko, so when they appear it is only briefly because they are in a hurry to make it to their clients on time.

They perform traditional dance and music and are supposed to be well-versed, graceful entertainment. I think they are gorgeous and so...just...exquisite?

Maiko are distinguished by the mandatory red strip on the back of their neck, on the inner strip of the kimono and the kanzashi ( the beautiful silk hand-folded flowers in their hair). The more red in their Kanzashi and Kimono collars the lower their rank (typically younger and less experienced, naturally). A mature Geiko wears a black or solid kimono and a wig with more white or muted color Kanzashi.

Their Kanzashi are so pretty ( they sell them at cons sometimes, but they are never as beautiful.)

Lots of girls can and will pay to be dressed up as Maiko, but they just look tacky to me and are easy to spot in the pictures I've seen. True Maiko and Geiko have this humbleness about them, this pleasant, gentle, secret, aura to them that is very palpable.

Anyway, something interesting.

xoxo