A Journey . . .

So, yet another blog about why I haven’t been blogging. Have you all been sensing a theme? If I was a regular reader of this blog, I’d say, “Ugh, this chick is inconsistent!” True that. But hey, at least I’m consistently inconsistent, right?;)

The character sketches have fallen a bit by the wayside, although I have 3 that are semi-in-progress. It can be hard to write about people who are important to you in a way that doesn’t embarrass them.

I also haven’t updated the masses on my online dating experiences because I have discovered a powerful truth. However bad I am at normal dating, I am exponentially worse at online dating. It’s a slow slog and I’ve already become impatient with it. I’ve got a bit of a countdown in my head. “5 more months and I can end these year-long subscriptions. Do you hear that, Lord? In 5 months I’m taking myself off these websites and if you want me to have companionship, you’ll have to shove him bodily in front of me. Onward and upward!” 

But the final and most important reason that I’m not consistently blogging is because I’m continuing a journey that I started back in 2009. It was just an idea in my head. I wanted to read a book on a particular subject, spiritual warfare. But I wanted to read a very particular type of book. I wanted to read about angels, but not silly stereotype angels or the angels that are rampant in recent books (as romantic characters with burly chests falling in love with some mortal woman, ugh). I wanted to read a book that told a real story, a story of the battle, of the civil war. A story of what the situation could currently look like.

But I couldn’t find anything. I picked up book after book and nothing fit. I couldn’t find a book that fit with the fledgling story in my head. So I started to write one.

This was new for me. I did quite a bit of writing, but it was mostly journaling. A few short stories, but nothing that anyone ever read. I’d never attempted a project of this scope before. It was fascinating, exhilarating, and utterly exhausting. I’m the type of person that can become very fixated on something I’m excited about. And when I’m excited about a story, it takes over my thoughts, both waking and sleeping. For months, I lived and breathed this story. I wrote upwards of 50k words and there was so much more to the story. I shared it with a close friend and we obsessed over plot details, character names, and just the general fun of world-building. It was a good solid 6+ months of obsession.

And then I hit a wall. Not quite writer’s block, I guess I’d call it a wall of un-motivation. I got tired of writing and thinking of nothing else. I got more involved in other areas of my life (church, friends) and decided to put it aside for a bit. Give myself time to let it simmer.

Every so often, over the years, I’ve picked up the story and tried to dive back in. I’ve written a few pages and done some brain-storming. I even downloaded a fantastic writing software, Scrivener, and semi-organized it. But I could never immerse myself as I’d done before. The story was still interesting to me, but my motivation was nil. 

Recently, I had a conversation with a friend about achieving personal goals and dreams. It struck me during the conversation that a passion in my life has always been to someday publish a book. Even if it ended up just being a self-published book that only my friends and family ever read. Books are such a huge part of my life, I’d always wanted to find a way to tell a story of my own. So I decided it was time to dive back in, really and truly.

I spent several days just re-reading the whole manuscript. It took some time. Things that I’d written 4 years ago that had, at the time, seemed great, didn’t work at all. I discovered some reasons why I’d gotten lost before. I then spent a few weeks just organizing the story. Plotting, writing chapter summaries, developing my characters, researching, and fleshing out the story. And then, this past weekend, I started writing again. A good solid 6 hours of just writing, with another few just spent plotting and pondering. 

It is consuming again. When I’m not at work, I’m thinking about the story. When I’m trying to sleep, I keep coming up with bits of dialogue or interesting scenes, which I then of course must write down. And when I finally fall asleep, I dream of the story.

I’m not sure if there’s another way of going through this process. I suppose the question to my creative friends out there is; is this normal?

Normal or not, for now this seems to be my process and this time I’m determined to complete the story. It’s the first one, so it may not be successful beyond people who love and support me. But I can say to myself that I did it. And, ultimately, it’s important to pursue your passions, even if they never amount to more than personal satisfaction of finishing a journey.

Character Sketch - Aunt Deb

*Disclaimer: This character sketch is a snapshot from my viewpoint. It is not the sum total of the individual and it does not encapsulate every facet of who they are. It is a piece of who they are to me.

When I started writing this a week ago, I thought it would be easy. Silly me. But I did especially love writing this character sketch, because my Aunt is a mess of contradictions. She is one thing and then almost entirely another.

But first a bit of history; Debra Jean Demaline. Deb Maxted. Aunt Deb. She is the leader of the great trifecta, the she-clan, the sisterhood of the Demaline girls. She is the oldest sister, my mom the middle child, and my Aunt Donna the baby. The three of them have a sisterly bond that I have always been a bit envious of. They are best friends, partners-in-crime, and can finish each others sentences. It's a little eerie.

Growing up, I secretly categorized my Aunt Deb as the "stern" aunt. This causes me great amusement as I look back, because I think it's more of a reflection of who I was. I was a bit selfish growing up and a bit spoiled. Aunt Deb has no patience for selfish or spoiled kids. She was a physical education teacher throughout most of her career and I think she is able to see the character of young people pretty clearly. In fact, I would say that she makes pretty fast assessments of people in general and they are often accurate. Anyway, she was the stern aunt, because she'd call me out when I was whining, remind me to pitch in when I was slacking or trying to escape work, and calmly knocked me down a peg when I acted like the world revolved around me. My selfish, spoiled self was rather affronted:)

But then I grew up. Life happened, sometimes quite painfully, and I learned that, in fact, the world did not revolve around me. I learned that there were people around me struggling. I began to consider others feelings and somewhere in the midst of that, I discovered something. My aunt is very, very good at the hard stuff.

She is deeply compassionate, caring, wise, and practical. She gives it to you straight. She is an amazing listener and can cut right to the heart of the matter. So somewhere in the midst of the turmoil of my life, she stopped being the stern aunt and became the wise and realistic aunt.

My Aunt Deb and Uncle Stan were married before I was born, so for me, they have always been a dynamic duo. They are another amusing example of an introvert and an extrovert making it work. My uncle is a chatty, friendly extrovert who strikes up conversations with anyone and everyone. My aunt . . . well. I tease her that she doesn't really like people. She is very fond of individuals, but people as a whole? Not her favorite:) Being someone she is fond of is an honor, because she's choosy. They don't have children and I will make a confession here and now: A part of me is glad to not have to share them with kids of their own, outside of their other nieces and nephews. My aunt has stood in more times than I can count as a bonus parent. So has my uncle . . . but I'll save that for his character sketch down the road.

One thing we have shared from early on was a love of reading. She is almost as book obsessed as I am, and between you and me, that's saying something. Not only that, but she enjoys reading a lot of the same unusual books as I do. There are lots of books that I love that I would never recommend to casual readers. Books that are hard to categorize or that some people would find straight up odd. Those are the books I share with my aunt, and then we chat about them. She really takes in the stories, which is something that I love about her. It's not just about the entertainment for her, it's also about the journey and what they teach her. She is a big Tolkien fan, and not just the epic scope, but the poetry and the songs (you know, the bits that other people skip?). The artistry of writing appeals to her. I loved sitting next to her and watching the Lord of the Rings movies and some of the Harry Potter series. Generally I hate talking during movies, but we'd keep leaning over in excitement or fury over changes.

My aunt loves art. It is something we definitely do not have in common, because I don't have an artistic eye at all. But I love watching her look at art. She connects to it, interprets it, and lets it speak to her. It's kind of fascinating to watch.

I have been told that my aunt was the rebellious one when she was a teenager, sneaking out to go to concerts and listening to forbidden music in her car with the windows down. But the music we both liked listening to was generally just folksy acoustic and Third Day. And I mean, granted, Third Day is rock but it's Christian rock. Not really the same. It wasn't until I took her to a Third Day concert and watched her jump up with her hands in the air on a particularly raucous song that I realized this was another piece of her, hidden away mostly. There is a little bit of a rock chick in my aunt, forever slightly contained by a life employed in the SDA church.

I'm convinced that, had life taken her in another direction, my aunt would be a hippy, living out in the woods and making her own soap and clothes, never using money and eschewing gadgets of all kind. Instead, life brought her to where she is today, and the glimpses only come across in her stubborn refusal to pay a penny more than she has to for things and being the only iPhone user I know that rarely checks her phone.

One of my favorite things about my aunt is her ability to show me another perspective. I can be stubborn, although not vocally. I hear things I don't agree with all the time, and no amount of lecturing, logic, or yelling will convince me away from my perspective. I also tend to have grand ideas that take over my thoughts and consume my interests. When I have discussions with my aunt, she has a unique gift of saying just the right thing to suddenly help shift my perspective. It's incredibly subtle and hard to describe, but sometimes she just says a few words and I can suddenly see the big picture. It makes her a pretty wonderful sounding board.

My aunt has the best laugh. I think most people who meet her probably think she is a bit standoffish and quiet at first. But she is the warmest person. She laughs with her whole face, eyes crinkling and smile huge. Just hearing her laugh makes me happy.

She decided to make a career change a few years ago and is now a physical therapy assistant. She tells me stories about her interactions with patients and I can only think how blessed they are. My aunt sees the person within, encourages at the right time, coaches when you need it, tells you to stop being lazy when it's true, and looks outside the box for solutions. Her patients to have her on their side for their health battles.

Until just a few years ago, I didn't realize just what a blessing it was to be an aunt. Then my nieces came along, then an honorary nephew, then another niece and a nephew, and still more honorary nephews . . . and even more to come! It is only in having the experience of being an auntie that I realize just how special mine are. Aunt Deb, I love you and I'm very, very grateful that you are you who you are and that you're my aunt. I'm the luckiest.

Character Sketch - My Macee

*Disclaimer: This character sketch is a snapshot from my viewpoint. It is not the sum total of the individual and it does not encapsulate every facet of who they are. It is a piece of who they are to me.


I start with one of my favorite people. I think I also begin with her because she is difficult to capture, and I needed to see if I could succeed before writing more.

Melissa MacPhee. Macee. Melissa Ann Rae. My best friend. Oh those silly, girly terms. It is not an apt description for our friendship. She has had a wealth of friends since I've known her, all of 11 years now. We met during college, at a time in my life when I finally, at long last, had just gotten my feet under me. I was in the midst of doing something I love, acting on stage. We were in the Diary of Anne Frank together and I have a clear memory of that being one of the most fun, creative points in my life. I made a few life-long friendships as a result of that experience, and my friendship with Macee has become an anchor in my life.

We are an odd pairing. The introvert and the extrovert. Macee is a people person. People are drawn to her like moths to a flame. But unlike a flame, she brings only light and warmth, no singeing or zapping. Her first instinct is always to help, to encourage, to uplift. She is a cheerleader. And from the first, that has always been what she has given to me. She is my #1 fan in friendship. My ideas are always wonderful, my accomplishments are always trumpeted, my quirks and geekery are encouraged and indulged, my hair always looks great, and she always takes my side. To her, I am "hon", "darling" "honey" and "pretty lady". She firmly believes that I am a closeted genius writer and is one of the few people I've allowed to read my stories. She laughs at my jokes and answers the phone when I call, even though she loathes talking on the phone.

To my dear Macee, I am something truly splendid, and that is the great gift she gives me effortlessly.

To most people, the first thing they see is "knockout". She is completely beautiful. Amazing, long hair that looks fantastic in any color. Tall and slender. The loveliest blue eyes, filled with joy. And a smile that you can't help smiling back at. And great teeth. It's ridiculous how nice of teeth she has. In another life, she would be a model. And if that was all you saw when you looked at her, you'd be missing out.

Melissa is devoted. She will give of her time, her energy, her kindness, her love and her patience. She gives it freely to people. All sorts of people. Nice people and maybe not always so nice people. People who deserve it and those who don't. There were times when she gave freely to anyone who needed it, regardless of whether they returned it or not. She has had to learn a hard lesson, and that is that not everyone is capable of returning those gifts. It was hard for me to watch, because I am selfish with my emotional gifts. I generally give only to those I know can return it at some point, except on rare occasions. We had some conversations about that. She learned a little bit from me and got better with putting up some boundaries. But she has continued to be more generous that I ever could be. She still gives generously, if a bit more carefully. The care and concern that she gives to others is one of my favorite things about her. It is also what makes her excellent in her career as a recruiter.

She has a ridiculously big family. They are a beautiful patchwork of blended families. For some people, this would be a continued challenge, an emotional landmine. For her, the more family, the more love and joy to share. She has the gift of building and sustaining connections. She has happily adopted and been adopted by members of my family over the years.

There are very few people who can make me laugh the way she does. Her laugh is infectious. She is wry, witty, silly, ridiculous, goofy, sarcastic, comedic gold. She can talk at an incredible speed when excited and gets excited over little things, just like me. So get us together when we're both excited or hyper and good lord, speed records are broken in our chatter. We become ditzy teenagers (although ironically, we didn't know each other as teenagers), in a frenzy of shared connection and silliness. A shared addiction of diet Dr. Pepper has led to never before seen giddiness. A whole new facet of my personality is revealed when we hang out. There is no one else that I act like that with, no one else who could convince me to do a flowy dress photo shoot. She brings out the BFF in me:)

We share the guilty pleasure of reading YA books, texting each other new books that we've read and enjoyed. I have a category on my Goodreads bookshelf called "possible books for Macee". I also know what not to recommend to her . . . anything vividly violent or scary. Yes I know, why would I recommend that anyway? Well, she had issues with the Hunger Games. Apparently children being forced to violently kill each other gave her nightmares. Go figure. Either she's weird or I'm missing an essential morality chip.

She sings like a freaking Disney princess. And yes, I mean that in the best possible sense. She sounds like a combination of Belle and Ariel. I know this because I have sat in a car with her while we've listened to Disney songs and she sings along and sounds just. like. them. If there are any Disney talent scouts reading in, just an FYI.

Since I've known her, she has gone through many changes. She got out of her punk phase (mostly;), acquired some body art, became an auntie, ate a few crickets, adopted a puppy child, overcame her Adventist roots and learned how to dance, traveled the country and the world, dated some frogs and ultimately married a prince (which was a singular relief to me), and is about to graduate again (overachiever).

Through it all, she passed the point of friendship in my life and became family. And she always will be.

Photo Credit: Dacia Haning (Yes, I'm bragging)

Catching up . . . and an idea

I've had a few people mention that I haven't blogged in a bit. Nice to be missed, I suppose. Here's the scoop though . . . I'm a moody writer. What does that mean? Well, it means that I have to be in a certain mood to write certain things. I write quite a bit all the time. Digital journaling is a thing for me. Some people are classy and considerably cooler than I, and they handwrite in trendy journals or old-fashioned books that have been gutted and had blank pages inserted. They write in beautiful handwriting in parks and coffee shops. Like I said . . . classy. I'm not classy, I type. I print slowly and get impatient when my hands can't keep up with my racing thoughts. I rant quite a bit, and hand writing just isn't conducive to a good rant. But I digress . . . moody writing. For a considerable portion of my writing, I'm writing things that aren't fit for public consumption. I think things out while I'm writing. I might be mentally gnawing on something and I'll write about it until I've mulled it into something I can make sense of. Or maybe I had a bad day and I want to vent. No one wants to hear my mental gnawing or my venting. At least I hope you don't . . . that would be a bit damaged of you.

But at times I'm in the mood to share. Occasionally I'm in the mood to show a little piece of myself that I'd otherwise keep under wraps, if anyone cares to read it. Sometimes I learned something, through the mental gnawing and venting, that brought me to a place I want to share. And then I want to share the struggle, the journey, the joy, the insight, the hilarity, the irony, the happiness.

And sometimes I have ideas. Generally, these ideas are ridiculous. For awhile I thought about writing an ongoing story and posting pieces of it occasionally. But I felt wildly intimidated by that idea. I write creatively quite a bit, but only rarely let people read my scratchings. I am my own worst critic of my writing, but it doesn't make me feel much better when others agree with me:)

So I had another idea I thought I might try. Character sketches. I have a lot of pretty fantastic people in my life. The biggest blessings in my life are the people that God has placed in my life. Based on that alone, I really do feel like God cares for me deeply, because He has placed me in the center of love. So I'm thinking, depending on how often the mood hits me to write them, I might do character sketches of some of those people. My family. My friends.

What is a character sketch? Well, it's the way I see a person. My perception. It will not capture every facet, it will capture the piece of them that is mine, the part that only I will ever have. When you have a relationship with a person, that relationship is a part of them that no one else can or will ever have. Every conversation, every experience, every hug, is a gift for you and you alone. So when I decide to share a character sketch of a person, it will be who they are to me, or how they seem to me. Maybe not entirely accurate, or only accurate to me. It will be my snapshot of the people who bring meaning to my life.

Maybe it won't be interesting to anyone but me and maybe them. Hopefully it doesn't ruffle any feathers if my snapshot is out of focus or isn't shaped right. But maybe, just maybe, I can sketch out a clear picture of some of my favorite people.

Or maybe I'll write one and the resounding responsive sound of crickets will indicate "never again". We'll see.

In which I diversify my online dating experience

The saga of online dating continues . . . although I decided to throw a monkey wrench in it this week. After a good conversation with a friend, I decided that eHarmony just hasn't been eventful enough for me yet. I need to diversify. If I'm going to try this experience for a year, why not kick it up a notch? So I joined Adventist Singles Connection.

Wow.

Just . . . wow.

I am a card-carrying member of the Adventist church. I went to an Adventist grade school, academy, and college. I know how to bake cottage cheese loaf. I even worked for the Oregon Conference for 4 years and worked at Camp Meeting. My only true failing as an Adventist  was never joining Pathfinders and disliking summer camp (I know, I know, please don't revoke my membership). I am part of the tribe.

But let's be real . . . our Adventist family is . . . diverse. Two people can call themselves Adventists and be on absolute opposite ends of the spectrum in almost every way. A lot of the men on this website gave off the distinct impression of being waaaaaaaay on the opposite end of Adventism than I am. But they are very, very eager to meet an Adventist girl. Any Adventist girl.

So, things did not go slowly on adventistsinglesconnection.com. Lord have mercy, the wolves descended. And the wolves were mostly 40-50 year old men who sent me jaunty-sounding pick up lines. Such confidence for guys who are 10-20 years older than me. Is this a thing now? I suppose, if I met someone really special and amazing who was 10 years older than me, I might ponder it. Carefully.

But my favorite so far was from a young man by the username of Jesuslvrboy. Red flag right there. He sent me a little card graphic that had a verse about a woman's hair being her crowning glory. Okaaaaay . . . slightly red flag as well. Then he sent me a little note that said "Hello, beautiful princess of God!!"

Okay, Jesuslvrboy, first off, I don't know how Jesus would feel about your casual exploitation of his name in your romantic life, but that's neither here nor there. However, I may have liked the idea of being a princess when I was 5, but I am now a grown woman, sometimes much to my chagrin. There's no need to talk down to me, just be cool man, be cool!

But hey, at least I'm hearing from people! And again, there are a few normal guys I'm hearing from, but those are the ones I don't want to throw under the proverbial bus.

Sorry Jesuslvrboy, but you are fair game.

Video Games & Speedo's . . . Oh My!

Well, I did promise to share the ongoing mysteries of online dating with the masses. Two weeks in, and at least the nervous flutter is gone. Online dating is the death of stomach butterflies. I’ve had some very odd matches so far. One fine young man listed his job title as “Bouncer at a Gentleman’s Club”. In his pictures, he is a very fit looking gentleman laying out on pool furniture in a speedo.

A speedo.

I feel that EHarmony may have received skewed test results from me somehow. In what universe would I ever be interested in a speedo wearing bouncer??

I digress.

I was also matched with a man who stated, right up front, that his favorite thing to do is play video games and he’s “not going to apologize”. I say “more power to you, man”. I support the right of a man to play video games all day long in his pj’s. I feel the same way about books. That being said, I have no interest in dating a guy whose favorite thing to do is play video games and I’m quite sure he wouldn’t want to date a girl who thinks that video games should be an occasional entertainment and not a religious fervor.

Another match of mine is a big, burly security guard who is holding either a gun or a cat in every single picture. I find this in equal parts terrifying and slightly endearing. He also does not smile in any of his pictures, which gives him a slight creeper vibe. I’m sure he’s lovely in person.

I hear that refrain over and over in my mind. “I’m sure he’s a nice guy once you get to know him”. Even the speedo wearing bouncer is probably nice. There is a slightly hysteric tinge in my inner voice as I remind myself that I'm sure they're all very nice.

I will end this post by saying that there are a few mostly normal guys that I've been matched with, but it's slow-going and, sadly, they're not as amusing to write about.

Thoughts on persecution . . . and a few opinions

I read an article today about persecution. In my mind, that word has always been synonymous with horrifying historical events, such as the persecution of Jews and then Christians in the Bible. I think of the Holocaust. I also think of slavery. I know there are countless other examples of persecution throughout history, but those just pop into my mind when I see the word. I’m sure it’s my upbringing that this springs from. I was raised on biblical stories of persecution. As an Adventist, I was raised to believe that the worst forms of persecution happened to believers and that someday, during the time of troubles, we’re due for more persecution because of our beliefs. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I’ve always been mentally braced for persecution, as though it was a foregone conclusion and I needed to prepare. Someday, someone is going to treat me horribly because of my faith. Wince. Brace. Prepare.

The article I read today was about persecution. But it wasn’t about Christians being persecuted. It was us doing the persecuting. We were the ones persecuting people because they are different, because they don't fit into our mold of what is "right".

I don’t like getting in the middle of social or theological debates. I have opinions. Sometimes they are even strong ones and if someone asks and genuinely wants to know my opinion, I will tell them. Maybe. But I am not of the mindset that my opinions are right. An opinion, by its very definition, is not considered truth. It may be my personal truth, but it is not empirical truth. And I’m okay with knowing that I might have more to learn, or I might be completely wrong. That’s acceptable to me, because I am not trying to force my opinions on anyone else. They are mine and as long as they do not cause me to harm another person, I am allowed to them.

I think the problem comes when, due to our opinions or personal truths, we feel justified in persecuting another, either emotionally, physically or spiritually. And I think that as Christians, or any person who has accepted the words of Christ into their heart, we are held to a very high standard in how we are to treat others:

Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question:  “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Matthew 22: 34-40.

I serve a God who calls me, ultimately, to love. To love a living God. To love people who are different than me. To love people who hold different beliefs than I do. To love people who live lifestyles that I was not born into and may not fully understand. To love people who I may have fundamental disagreements with. To love people who may outwardly appear more broken than I. To love people who might make me uncomfortable.

So what does it mean to love my neighbor? Unfortunately, it seems that in the minds of many Christians, loving someone means helping to show them they are wrong so that they can ultimately find their way to truth. Maybe loving someone means “saving them”. Loving them might mean that we shame them until they change. Perhaps loving someone means ostracizing them from “us” so that they may eventually see the error of their ways, change their lifestyle, and come home to the church. Maybe loving someone means making them feel worthless, so that we can feel worthy. Sometimes our "love" for our neighbors causes us to slowly, but inexorably, push them out of the fold so that we can feel comfortable again. But, in my opinion, that is the kind of love that makes God and the angels weep.

Perhaps we have spent so much time preparing for persecution, that we have learned it too well ourselves.

But Dacia, you say, what about standing up for our beliefs? What about upholding Biblical truths and the institutions of marriage/Adventism/our forefathers/religious liberty/etc.? 

My response to that would be, continue upholding those beliefs in your own life. Strive towards the most loving, genuine, Christ-centered marriage that you can. Do your best to be the most kind, loving, giving, gracious Adventist and live by example. Be the kindest, bravest, most generous American. Embrace your faith and rejoice that others have hope and faith, even if it is not the same as yours. Live your life in such a way that others cannot help but see the reflected love of Christ in you. And rest easy in the knowledge that in the end, God has the power and responsibility to do all the judging and the saving, and is infinitely more wise and capable of such things than we are. I feel relieved to not have that burden. I am only responsible for loving God and for loving people.

And remember . . . this is just my opinion.