Randoms (4)

I have get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part four.

• My daughter is sleeping through the night. This is a milestone. And I’m not even talking about for her. Sure, she’s more content. And sleep begets sleep, so naps are more consistent too. We have an overwhelmingly happier family since we’ve all been sleeping. It feels like fresh air, like breathing again, like finding a gold mine.
• Speaking about gold, everything costs something. And the cost for a good night’s sleep in our home is $30 a container for formula. You pay for breastmilk too. Most breastfed babies wake up throughout the night, often until they are well past one. This doesn’t work for me. For us. Work, life & Nico’s energy level require entirely too much of me to be half-dead in the morning. And afternoon. And evening.
• Evenings have become really interesting here. Once the children are asleep, it’s Michael and I time. I’m still not used to it. I had an entire repertoire of activity, books and shows dedicated to entertaining me between 8 & 10. Then bed. Suddenly I have my husband back and I’m feeling a little odd about it. Like he’s infringing on my perfectly ordered (boring but predictable) agenda. I can’t image how military wives feel when their husband returns from war, after a few months or year + of single parenting. Seems impossible to adjust back to “normal.” Normal needs redefined.
• Days that I do not have a plan, are days I want to claw my eyes out by 5pm. But the crappy thing about raising kids in the city is that every activity requires an agenda and parental attention. There is no opening up the windows and doors and letting the kids come in and out from the back yard. Every outing requires a trip to the park or tickets to the museum or a pool pass or a walk/drive somewhere else to play. (Shoes, hats, sunscreen, double stroller, water and snacks packed for the kids. Sunglasses, keys, phone, bathroom trip and water bottle for me.) It’s starting to feel quite excessive. And yet I really do love my house and my neighbors. Everything costs something, and I’m not sure I’m yet willing to trade in relationships I’ve made here in the city for a fence and a yard and room to spread out. But I am darn sick of the 25 minute charade just to get out of the house for an hour or two, only to have to return because someone pooped their pants or needs to nap or wants something I forgot to trek along with us in our boat. (I mean, double stroller.)
• If we stay in this house, in the city, we need to finish our basement into a playroom, equipped with monkey bars and padded walls. Twenty-month old boys are NO JOKE! I can’t even begin to list the naughty, crazy, dangerous, insane things Nico has done, climbed, threw, jumped off of, spilled, sat on and ruined in the past month alone. I’m considering daycare chaos in the fall just so he has something to exhaust his energy and mischief.

Nico just dumped 20 oz of water on my phone.

 

Signing out.

When Did ‘Judge’ Become The New ‘F-Word’?

What is the point of political correctness? So that we can pretend our decisions and therefore our relationships are copasetic? So that people aren’t offended? To protect our fragile sense of security?

Time and again I hear people making disclaimers about lifestyle choices (work ethic, political affiliation, stance on this issue or that, parenting styles) beginning with the phrase, I’m not judging you but we do X, Y, Z. If I’ve heard it once (today), I’ve heard it a thousand times. To judge others is mean and wrong and politically incorrect.

But is it such a bad thing to judge? Aren’t we (really!) judging anyway?

Is it necessary to begin every thought and opinion with a disclaimer? Does a pre-qualification of non-judgment REALLY and truly delude the weight of decisions or opinions enough to convince our friends we aren’t judging their different or even opposing views?

Here’s the truth. We judge every single day. And it’s often a good thing.

Clearly if I choose THIS method over THAT method, I’ve made a judgment call. For me and my family, I choose things every single day. Do the jellybeans need me to tell them, Sorry, no judgment. But Nico needs some fresh fruit instead. And if the jellybeans don’t need coddled, why do we?

Yes, I know there is a difference between judging someone and making a judgment call. But it’s a pretty thin line. In fact, in some cases, it’s really just a fake line.

If I hear someone say, I’m using Growing Kids God’s Way (GKGW: curriculum/methodology of discipline and parenting) and I manage to kindly respond, Oh, no judgment but we don’t do that, does that mean I have not judged? Maybe better people than I exist in the world (doubtful, ha!), but I would likely (want to) back away slowly with a look of shocked horror mixed with pity for the child involved if I heard that come out of a mothers mouth. Even if I could muster a gracious response outwardly, in my heart I’m still judging. Why? Because I think GKGW is psychotic and damaging – emotionally and spiritually and physically if used in extremes.

Now, before you go berating me (in your head naturally, so not be labeled judgmental), think about something you do or believe in that you are passionate about. Your political affiliation? Your religion? Babywise? Attachment Parenting? Co-sleeping?? And tell me that in your HEART (regardless of how well you think you HIDE your heart and opinion) you don’t secretly or not so secretly judge the opposing view!

We all do it. We can pretend this giant melting pot has tremendous positive effects on how we engage diversity (not talking race here), but I kinda think it’s a farce. I’m calling the bluff.

In my Moms Club, we have one rule: No judgment. And I guess I’m wondering lately, what that means? Does it mean that to someone’s FACE I shouldn’t scoff at their method? Are we really suggesting that, when it comes to methodology, theology, parenting styles, whatever, we should not judge, and therefore have no strong preference? Are we really saying, in life, that you can believe X and I can believe A and it’s all okay? You can be right and I can be right?

WRONG!

It’s annoyingly small-minded of us to live in this kind of avoidance. If you are a democrat and I am a republican, I CLEARLY think you are wrong. Because I CLEARLY think I am right. If you are Christian and I am Muslim, I clearly think you are wrong. If you co-sleep and I babywise, well, that’s almost a bigger judging blood bath than the Crusades.

But what’s the answer? Silence? Only hang with like-minded people? I don’t know. The only solution I see, really, if we want to be genuine, honest, straight-shooters, living in a hodge-podge melting pot of ideas and thoughts and opinions and life-choices is to fake it or argue it out. Learn to appreciate the person OVER the issue, all the while admitting openly and to each other – that in THIS or THAT, we agree to DISAGREE.

I’m guess I’m just suggesting, let’s not placate one another. Let’s not lie to ourselves and our friends with the illusion that judgment isn’t a big part of relational dynamics. I know you’re judging anyway. And I, I admit it. I judge you too.

My 32nd Birthday

Today is my birthday. I’m double, sixteen. And with sixteen in mind, I’m so glad for the things I’ve learned, experienced and have grown in over the past years. I’m not the kind of person who wishes for high school again.

I don’t have a litany of thoughts or feelings concerning this birthday. It wasn’t until last night that I even gave it a single second of thought. Mostly because babies and family and Michael’s birthday and graduation from grad school have been all-consuming. A separate post will be coming on all that – we made it! Hallelujah.

But also, 32 isn’t anything grand. There is no stirring for major change or conviction to walk a different path. I guess I feel like it’s just another day, as days go. One step in front of the other. Keep walking. The sprint is behind me, and also forthcoming. But right now, I keep on keeping on.

And so I shall. With great anticipation. I will keep on keeping on in a new year of life; married to a new graduate, mother, employee, friend, coordinator, planner, writer, Christian, thinker, woman. And I stay open – to all that God has for me, for my family. In the end, that’s all I can do.

Stay open. Roll with the motions, make decisions in the present, embrace change when it comes, forgive, relate, wake up every morning with intention and purpose. Plan adventures and order my days. Make it count.

Cheers then! To making it count. 32; I think I’m going to love you.

Some things are defining just by being faithful in the little.

Randoms (3)

I have get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part three.




• It's the warmest spring I've ever lived in, in Pittsburgh at least. I love it. But I'm secretly afraid of swarms of stink bugs and other crawly things that didn't die off over our warm winter. And also, I'm terrified it'll be over 100 degree every day in July and August. I guess we shall see!



• I hate fashion. And what I really mean is, why is fashion created for size 2 female figures when less than 5% of our population is a size 2? It makes me mad. And not in the, let's fight body image issues kind of way. I hate it because I can't wear anything super cool and trendy. Not only are the clothes designed for, well, NOT my body but I'm just the kind of person that is always missing something that completes a trendy outfit. I annoy myself. And so I shop at Old Navy and get 10 versions of the same shirt, basic colors, a few pants/shorts/skirts and call it a day. I don't know how else to shop. Shopping drives me insane.



• Michael told me to use our tax return for a new wardrobe. AS IF! I can think of 1,000 things I'd prefer over clothes. Like: Nico needs a booster chair, and a potty, and a puppy if I'm really honest. Selah doesn't need anything but I'm pretty sure she wants her teeth to come in. And I want my house painted and new courtyard furniture, and an endless supply of K-cups, and a pedicure. And a vacation. And a fully stocked bar at home.



• We never stock liquor in the house. And it's not because we have some issue with cocktails but I guess, it's sort of like an investment. And we don't have a "bar" to PUT the liquor should we fully stock. But I've been CRAVING spicy Bloody Mary's and Champaign and Dirty Martini's. After listening to my cocktail cravings for the 1ooth time, Michael brought home some vodka last week. It's been sitting in my freezer since, unopened.



• I'm just like that. I often want what I don't/can't/shouldn't have. Once I get it, I don't want it anymore. It's like why I don't eat more than one cookie after I've made them. I get over things pretty fast.



• So does Nico. He's always on to the next thing. Monday, he couldn't climb these sideways bars up to the second tier of the playground. Wednesday, he could. And now he's onto some other challenging adventure. I see myself in him; the self I was before "stuff" happened to change me into a slightly jaded, skeptical, boundary-conscience adult. He's a mighty man. Friendly, engaged in the world around him, goal oriented, physical, demanding but more laid back than I'd have expected. In his core, I believe he has a tremendous love for ALL people. He is inherently trusting. It scares me sometimes. Nico has captured my heart and inspires me to openness.



• And then there is Selah. For starters, she looks exactly like my mother. She loves music. She is loud and can project! And she adores me. ADORES ME. I am her world. And I don't think it's just that I give her milk the way she likes it (from the breast). Selah is specific about who she wants to be around. She only responds well to some people. She is an absolute joy and smiles 95% of the time but 5% of the time, LOOK OUT WORLD. The girl has a temper. And very few people can talk her off that ledge. She's fiery. She likes to be around people but she will only engage (smile, coo, play) a few. She is critical about it. She demands undivided attention and when she makes eye contact, you cannot look away. She is a thinker. In these ways, she is like Michael. She is stunning. I'm kind of amazed by her. She teaches me to be in the moment, fully in the moment.



• Michael has, dun dun dun, 25 days of grad school left. He takes his last final, on his birthday, April 17th. He has applied to jobs in Arizona, KS, MN, Washington state, CA, VI, GA, FL, NJ, Philly, Pittsburgh, WV and Kentucky. But mostly in DC. The job market sucks and it often feels like his applications are just lost in space, but we continue to hope for THAT job - the one we feel God has for him, in His perfect timing. We trust that He will "make a way for us in the desert and streams in the wasteland" (IS. 43:19). We remain open to wherever, but I'm getting restless in the wait. It's hard to plan and invest when a transplant and move is likely eminent.



• If we stay in Pittsburgh, I'm getting a pool pass this year. And getting painters for my house. And will bite the bullet and start researching pre-schools in the city. And, Michael and I are going to get away in the fall. Just us. We need it.



• When I look back over the past three and a half years, I'm in shock. I got married, had a miscarriage, got pregnant again, bought a house, had a baby, got pregnant 3 months later, had another baby, helped put Michael through grad school, worked, lost friends, gained friends, changed. I feel like at my very core, I'm a different person. My DNA is different. There is no going back.



• Onward and upward...

Signing Out.

I Think Therefore I Am: The Power of Will

Michael and I had friends over a month or so ago. We love conversation with this couple because they are smart and observant, and they enjoy a decent debate. They have a foundation of faith and an intelligent worldview that we find true comradery in. Somewhere in that time we were discussing will power - the ability to choose differently. Our friend pointed out that he really believes that “will” is a gift, that some people have more will power than others. He explained that it isn’t right or fair to measure others by our own abilities.

The concept surprised me. And I’ve thought about it frequently.

I’ve never considered myself someone who has a ton of will-power. But I have often explained much of my character around the concept of a strong-will. For some reason, because I haven’t always behaved in measured, calculated, or restrained ways, I’ve considered myself weak-willed with regard to consumption, as one example. I’m starting to realize that it was not by accident that I behaved (sometimes still behave) in unrestrained ways; it is choice. I don’t always WANT to be measured and controlled. I “will” my actions, even the unruly ones. I believe that this is how I’ve partaken in a lot of behaviors and never developed a full-blown addiction. I’m starting to realize that I am both strong-willed and have will-power. And, since this has not always been a concerted effort to “think, therefore I am,” I do believe I have been given a supernatural will. A gift, if you will? (pun intended)

January 2nd I started Weight Watchers. I’ve lost 25 points. It’s a matter of will. I run into a lot of people who say they want to diet. Most don’t actually follow through. It’s been something I’ve wondered about. And maybe even secretly judged. Just do it! See the results and keep up the effort. If I can do it, you can do it. I’m starting to realize that, maybe, this is an unfair judgment call.

But food IS something I have struggled with. And if I have ever teetered on the edge OF an addiction, it’s been with food. Sure, I’ve binged on alcohol, tobacco, TV shows, etc… but mostly socially and for small amounts of time, never without conviction. But food? Well, that’s something that has unclear boundaries. How much is too much? Eating for comfort – don’t we all do that? At what point do we cross over from enjoying sustenance to becoming gluttons? Unlike alcohol (when exactly do we become “drunk?"), there isn’t an immediate physical manifestation of our gluttony. It’s only over time that our gluttony manifests itself in cellulite and larger pant sizes. We all have to eat. But what we eat and how much we eat is a matter of knowing yourself. And in the end, it's a matter of will.

Despite my strong will, there are certain items I do not purchase. (And I never grocery shop hungry.) Potato chips. Little Debbie Oatmeal Cakes. Dannon yogurt. Icecream (unless pregnant!) And even though I know how disgusting it is, I do not go through the McDonalds drive thru, even for a soda, because I really struggle with french fries and Big Macs. When I’m trying to be weight conscious, I don’t go near these items. I can’t. I WILL myself to refrain, so not to test my will-power, or lack thereof.

Will-power and a strong-will are not the same, but they are very close cousins. And when used together, a person (or vision/purpose/desire) is virtually unstoppable. It’s like when your head and heart are in unity. It’s why love begins, and ends, with choice. There is profound power in will.

I am going to stop identifying myself as someone who doesn’t have will-power. Clearly I do. Clearly, I am capable of willing myself into smaller pant sizes, moderate food consumption, and so on. And because I know I can do that, I can change my tone. I have the power, given by God, to choose joy over drudgery. I can forgive, if I really WANT to. If I think, therefore I am (or at least on the path toward that evolution/sanctification), I am going to start thinking:

I want the mind of Christ.
I want to wear a bikini.
I want my words to be seasoned with grace and kindness and joy, along with discipline, intellect and truth

I am going to stop identifying my strong-will as a negative quality and start embracing the beauty, discipline, and power that this gift has. And if I see this quality in my children, I pray for the wisdom not to break their will, but cultivate and guide it toward rightness. I feel free now. I choose. I WILL. And I WILL continue.

Painting Appoval

I cried a fountain of tears in worship yesterday as song after song spoke of God being THEE HIGHEST - the highest authority, the ultimate reason, One who is WORTHY of my heart and my thoughts and my worship. As I let the majestic praises of His people resound in my head and heart, I came face to face with my immaturity and neediness. Why in the face of a holy God would I base so much of my worth on the approval of others? Why do I need certain mere humans to give me praise when He, who has the ultimate authority, is the only one who has a heaven or a hell to put me in?

Becoming a mother was a bit shocking, for me at least. I always wanted children and had spent tons of time with kids, but for all of my want and experience, I started my mommyhood journey extremely insecure. I read books and took advice that just wasn’t ME, wasn’t Nico, and wasn’t Michael. So at every failed attempt to adapt to other people’s advice and parenting styles, I felt like a failure. Add in some post-partum depression and very little positive support and you have one. insecure. mother.

I wasn’t whole after I had Nico; not in the parenting sense at least. I’d been living in the tension of insecurity and allowed waves of self-doubt and tremendous fear to bleed my natural instincts as mother. For someone who has been a strong and self-assured, confident woman – the self-doubt in this area came like a thief in the night. The people I wanted the most approval and encouragement from, ended up somehow being the most negative. Those I planned to count on the most just didn’t pan out.

In the ashes and absence of positive, soul-giving support, God in all of His knowledge and grace gave me beautiful “fillers,” friends and neighbors to walk though these hard, early-parenting years with. These mothers have been refreshing and positive; affirming. Like earth and air, teaching me to trust myself – just by affirming my choices and my children. They gave and are still giving me permission to paint motherhood with my own colors; not the colors of my family and history or even in the shades of expectation.

But even in the blessing of these wonderful friends, I’ve craved more. Do we ever really outgrow our need for parental approval? Probably not. But I realize more and more, that marriage and babies should separate you, even further at times, than you would expect or even want. At some point, it’s vital to look at your spouse and determine, to do it your own way. At all costs. To carve out a path that is the best for how you feel called to live and love and grow as a nuclear family.

We don’t stand before God one day accountable for anybody but ourselves. With that eternal mindset, like the one I felt washed in on Sunday, I realize this simple truth: God’s approval is the only one that matters. Living life in the darkened shadow of how everyone else lives, under the choices of others, painting a picture in used-up shades of brown is just, ugly. This isn’t what I was created for…to live reacting to every critical comment, to be tossed back and forth by every opposing parenting style, to look for approval from people I’m not convinced I even want to even emulate anyway. I wasn’t born to color in lines carved out by others so why would I raise my children trying to do so?

Under the cross of Christ, I am free. Poured out and open, living to please and paint for One.

I was challenged Sunday to get my eyes off of everybody else and put them back on God. To live like Jesus is to live for the approval of The Father. In that emulation of God, no comment or question or opinion or idea can steal my joy, question my capabilities, undermine my authority or disrespect my style. Jesus was compassionate but He was also courageous because He knew He was living right, with the approval of Abba. If I’m going to set boundaries with the disapproving and die on a hill defending any choice, I want to make damn sure it’s a choice I believe in, in submission to Christ. Rejection matters less when I have assurance that I am walking, painting, living, and loving like the Savior modeled and called me to live. This is what the cross ensures; that when I stand in its shadow I can paint in the palette of freedom, covered in acceptance, love and approval.

Today I begin to paint for an audience of One.

Ugly Boxes of Precedent

I’m struggling with “precedent” lately. Things that have been demonstrated again and again, over time, can quickly become the norm regardless of how abnormal it REALLY is. Labels, identity, expectations – the very essence of how we engage ourselves and others is often built upon the foundation of Precedent. Here are three ugly ones I am struggling to overcome.

1. Ever since I can remember, there was a lingering precedent that I am “invalid” – that I am a troublemaking, exaggerative, dramatic, not-to-be-taken-seriously girl. Some of that was merited, especially as a young teen, but it’s left me truly believing at times that I shouldn’t expect to be taken seriously. I rarely even demand it anymore. It’s hard to shake labels when even those closest to you disbelieve you and disregard your thoughts, ideas, and opinions. I used to think, if I get married and have babies, I’ll be taken seriously. And then when that proved to be bunk, if I have a natural birth and breastfeed perfectly, I’ll be supermom and gain some respect. Not so. And now, I find myself sometimes thinking, if I make a lot of money (aka, had a real “career" vs. working in a church) – maybe then I'll change Precedent. Obviously a pipe dream.

2. Since I’ve had children, I’ve had these amazing women offer to babysit on occasion from church. They want to hang out with my kids! But I struggle to BELIEVE them. Because Precedent in my family structure communicates a.) that kids are an annoying obligation b.) that babysitting is laborious c.) that watching children isn’t something the generation ahead of me SHOULD EVER HAVE to do. Michael and I hardly ever go out together because of this and I find myself aching for time with my husband outside of diapers and bedtime. Despite the offers from kind hearts, Precedent dictates and I am often left isolated, fending for myself.

3. I also have this notion that lots and lots of men, especially over 65, are child molesters because Precedent says, Older men can’t be trusted. Older men who take an interest in babies and children are f*ed up in the head. I suspected this overreaching fear would come up more so as Selah grew up a little, but after the 20,000th Catholic Priest incident hit the news and the recent Penn State scandal, I’ve been more and more alerted with regard to Nico. Just the other day at the park, this guy kept getting closer and closer to Nico with his dog. Like, enticing him because Nico LOVES puppies. He was a pretty nice guy who lives in the neighborhood but the questions crossed my mind; is he trying to win Nico’s favor? Why is he getting so close? I mean, I was WITH a friend and her toddler. I guarantee she thought nothing of this guy. But I did. He creeped me out a little. As someone with sexual abuse in my past, Precedent calls for the distrust of most men.

I’ve overcome a lot of labels in my life, so I know the battle that lies ahead of me. I know setting boundaries is difficult, especially when they’ve been walked over enough times to call my heart a crosswalk. There are elements here in these three paragraphs that I’ve grown to believe about myself and others that are just plain unhealthy. And wrong. Knowledge is power, but it’s hard to get out of boxes when it’s all you’ve really known. It’s hard to set new standards, when life lessons have taught you otherwise. It’s quite shocking to truly embrace God’s identity; how HE says life should work and how relationships should be structured when so many experiences say otherwise.

Part of the beautiful challenge of 'engaged parenting' is not letting negative precedents get recycled; dealing with my shit before my shit deals with me and affects my children. It’s a MAD DASH to work on ME, when suddenly the focus is about cultivating these two little hearts and minds to know God’s love and purposes for their lives.

I keep layering my negative experiences overtop of life. Instead, I need to layer Truth – the affirmations Scripture declares – over the shit people say or have done or are still doing that contradict true love, real grace, and relentless hope. I can’t win favor by trying to be someone else. I can’t say I want community, but distrust the motives of every single person. I can’t go around thinking every 65 year old man is a molester. I want to LISTEN to my God-given instincts, not those dictated by Precedent. I want to be safe. Safe over sorry. But not paranoid. I want to live in balance. I want to get out of these boxes. And I want to live life to the fullest. For me. For these babies. For my God.

But right now, as these issues show their ugly faces, I admit - I don’t know where to start. I don't know what boundaries to set and how that plays out in real life (vs. the written one). But something I do know; I have to be the one who changes. I can't expect anyone else to. I can't salvage unhealthy relationships if the 'other side' is unwilling to change.

With God's grace and His constant, vigilant desire to see me free.; I will overcome. I will get out.

I Get Out by Lauren Hill:
I get out, I get out of all your boxesI get out, you can't hold me in these chainsI'll get outFather free me from this bondageKnowin' my conditionIs the reason I must change[Verse 1]Your stinkin' resolutionIs no type of solutionPreventin' me from freedomMaintainin' your pollutionI won't support your lie no moreI won't even try no moreIf I have to die, oh LordThat's how I choose to liveI won't be compromised no moreI can't be victimised no moreI just don't sympathize no moreCause now I understandYou just wanna use meYou say "love" then abuse meYou never thought you'd loose meBut how quickly we forgetThat nothin' is for certainYou thought I'd stay here hurtin'Your guilt trip's just not workin'Repressin' me to deathCause now I'm choosin' life, yoI take the sacrifice, yoIf everything must go, then goThat's how I choose to live[Pause][Singing rest of Verse 1]That's how I choose to live...Hehehehe, awhhNo more compromisesI see past your disguisesBlindin' through mind controlStealin' my eternal soulAppealin' through materialTo keep me as your slave[Singing Chorus]But I get outOh, I get out of all your boxesI get outOh, you can't hold me in these chainsI'll get outOh, I want out of social bondageKnowin' my conditionOh, is the reason I must change[Singing Verse 2]See, what you see is what you getOh, and you ain't seen nothin' yetOh, I don't care if you're upsetI could care less if you're upsetSee it don't change the truthAnd your hurt feeling's no excuseTo keep me in this boxPsychological locksRepressin' true expressionCementin' this repressionPromotin' mass deceptionSo that no one can be healedI don't respect your systemI won't protect your systemWhen you talk I don't listenOh, let my Father's will be done[Singing Chorus]And just get outOh, just get out of all these bondageJust get outOh, you can't hold me in chainsJust get outAll these traditions killin' freedomKnowin' my conditionIs the reason I must change[Singing Verse 3]I've just accepted what you saidKeepin' me among the deadThe only way to knowIs to walk then learn and growBut faith is not your speedOh, you've had everyone believedThat you're the sole authorityJust follow the majorityAfraid to face realityThe system is a jokeOh, you'd be smart to save your soulOh, when escape is mind controlYou spent your life in sacrificeTo a system for the deadOh, are you sure...Where is the passion in this livingAre you sure it's God you servin'Obligated to a systemGetting less then you're deservingWho made up these schools, I sayWho made up these rules, I sayAnimal conditioningOh, just to keep us as a slave[Singing Chorus]Oh, just get outOf this social purgatoryJust get outAll these traditions are a lieJust get outSuperstition killing freedomKnowin' my conditionIs the reason I must dieJust get outJust get outJust get outLet's get outLet's get outKnowin' my conditionIs the reason I must dieJust get out