I'm old, and anything past 10pm is past my bedtime. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
So, I've been up working on an article for Jesus Manifesto on women, blogging and ministry. I have a lot to say on the subject. As soon as I started working on it a day or so ago, I realized it also fit in with the thoughts I had been gathering on our Pentecost theme. Thanks to the ways all of these themes are connecting in my head, I have about sixish pages of notes I have to whittle down to a 1,000 word coherent essay.
I have abandoned all hope of completing it this evening, leaving it for a Friday night project (yes friends, my dating life is hot!).
I'm going to bed.
I'm going to bed, because I realized it was way past time to go to bed.
I realized it was way past time to go to bed, because I was starting to feel like a complete sham.
Here I am, writing about womanhood and revelation and inspiration, and all of the sudden I find myself singing along with quite possibly the scariest song since Every Breath You Take.
Here, all these years, I've been blaming Madonna for all of my distorted relationship issues, but it turns out I've been holding the wrong childhood idol responsible.
Just listen to the intro to Debbie Gibson's Staying Together:
You can't go boy.
We've been over it a hundred times, but this ones different.
This time, I'm not asking you what you think, I'm telling you.
We're staying together, whether you like it or not...
Yes, I realize, just the fact that I was listening to Debbie Gibson at all is sad.
That her music provided background noise to my feminine manifesto is down right pathetic.
I am deeply, deeply sorry.
But its in my iTunes... and it comes up in the shuffle... and... darn it... she's like comfort food for me!
(for the confessional record, I was also listening to Skid Row...)
Tomorrow night, I promise: Ani, Fiona, Edie, Gillian, Nanci, Norah, Courtney...