Forgive me, for I have neglected thee.
I've been working lots of overtime lately. I'm very tired. But then I open my paycheck and feel better. Money can't buy happiness, but I sure am a lot happier now that I'm making more money than I was before.
I am totally over this weather we've been having. There's four inches of snow on the ground. I almost got crushed by two large trucks on my way home from work today. It takes me an hour to drive from my apartment to Hillsboro. It should take 15 minutes. Snow is only fun if school and work get cancelled and you get to stay home and play in it. Otherwise it's just a pain in the boo-tay.
The snow has ruined all my holiday shopping plans. I haven't done any Christmas shopping. None. I was going to go last Sunday. It snowed 3 inches. Then I was going to go on Wednesday. It was icy. And there's supposed to be an ice storm tomorrow. And Monday. Freezing rain on Tuesday.
Oh well. I'll figure something out.
Nathan got a new job! The pay is better, the commute is shorter and the people are nicer. I'm so happy for him. The last gig turned out to be a big-time bust. We're trying to plan a trip to Vegas some time in late January or early February. I really want to make it back to CBus before long too to visit Nathan's mom and grandparents. And my girls. I miss them.
I'm just so ready for winter to be over. Can we just skip winter? It's my least favorite season. Please and thank you. And Christmas just feels so different this year. I think it's a combination of the weather, too much work and just the feel of the world in general. Everyone is struggling in their own way, more so this year than in the past it seems. It's bittersweet; struggling sucks, but it makes us appreciate things we may otherwise take for granted.
That which does not kill us only makes us stronger. Cliche, but true. This too shall pass. Very true. Cling to that which is good.
I am very thankful to be home in Oregon with my parents and my Nathan. I hate the weather, but the pine trees are truly beautiful when they're covered in snow.
I think I'll cuddle with my boy and watch a Christmas movie.
In the darkest hour through which a human soul can pass, whatever else is doubtful, this at least is certain. If there be no God and no future state, yet, even then, it is better to be generous than selfish, better to be chaste than licentious, better to be true than false, better to be brave than to be a coward. Blessed beyond all earthly blessedness is the man who, in the tempestuous darkness of the soul, has dared to hold fast to these venerable landmarks. Thrice blest is he who, when all is dreary and cheerless within and without, when his teachers terrify him, and friends shrink from him, has obstinately clung to moral good.
- Frederick William Robertson
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
The Pursuit of Happiness
I am thrilled at the results of this week's election. I prayed very hard for this outcome.
I was disappointed that California didn't defeat proposition 8. I was also very disappointed with the way the Mormon church was depicted. I have some close friends who are Mormon, and many of the things that have been said by the prop. 8 opposition are not fair. Part of democracy is the freedom to vote for issues one supports. Simply because an individual supported prop. 8 does not make them a "gay-hater".
Here are my two cents:
I do not believe that being gay is a choice.
I am a Christian. I believe that Christ died to save me from my sins, that I may become closer with and more connected to God and His will for my life.
I am a Christian. I am also an American, and believe that in this country everyone should be an equal citizen.
Religious beliefs do not justify the treatment of individuals as second class citizens. Without an effective institution to recognize same-sex unions, gay American citizens do not have the same rights as straight Americans. The country that was founded on Christian morals also dictated that every American has the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Every human being is entitled to happiness.
Part of my happiness-pursuit is spending the rest of my life with the person I love in matrimony. As an American, how could I deny someone else that path?
Marriage is not a right. Marriage is a choice two people who love each other make when they want to spend the rest of their lives together. Two people who love each other can also pledge to spend the rest of their lives together without getting married, but they don't have the same rights as people who do, i.e. hospital visitation rights, etc.
Marriage is a religious institution. It is also a legal institution. There are people who get married in churches, and there are people who get married in courthouses. I have trouble understanding why it is acceptable in some people's eyes for two non-religious people to participate in the religious institution of marriage and yet it is unacceptable for two gay individuals to do the same.
I don't believe you should get married in a church if you don't believe in God. It doesn't make sense for two people to swear to spend the rest of their lives together before a God they may not believe in. However, that's not the world we live in. Believers get married, non-believers get married. Meanwhile, gays and lesbians are treated as second-class citizens, ineligible for the same rights as other citizens. And so, I would've voted against proposition 8.
There needs to be an institution that gives gay and lesbian Americans the same rights as married straight Americans. Otherwise, we will not live in the nation our forefathers designed.
"When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. "
- John Hancock
I was disappointed that California didn't defeat proposition 8. I was also very disappointed with the way the Mormon church was depicted. I have some close friends who are Mormon, and many of the things that have been said by the prop. 8 opposition are not fair. Part of democracy is the freedom to vote for issues one supports. Simply because an individual supported prop. 8 does not make them a "gay-hater".
Here are my two cents:
I do not believe that being gay is a choice.
I am a Christian. I believe that Christ died to save me from my sins, that I may become closer with and more connected to God and His will for my life.
I am a Christian. I am also an American, and believe that in this country everyone should be an equal citizen.
Religious beliefs do not justify the treatment of individuals as second class citizens. Without an effective institution to recognize same-sex unions, gay American citizens do not have the same rights as straight Americans. The country that was founded on Christian morals also dictated that every American has the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Every human being is entitled to happiness.
Part of my happiness-pursuit is spending the rest of my life with the person I love in matrimony. As an American, how could I deny someone else that path?
Marriage is not a right. Marriage is a choice two people who love each other make when they want to spend the rest of their lives together. Two people who love each other can also pledge to spend the rest of their lives together without getting married, but they don't have the same rights as people who do, i.e. hospital visitation rights, etc.
Marriage is a religious institution. It is also a legal institution. There are people who get married in churches, and there are people who get married in courthouses. I have trouble understanding why it is acceptable in some people's eyes for two non-religious people to participate in the religious institution of marriage and yet it is unacceptable for two gay individuals to do the same.
I don't believe you should get married in a church if you don't believe in God. It doesn't make sense for two people to swear to spend the rest of their lives together before a God they may not believe in. However, that's not the world we live in. Believers get married, non-believers get married. Meanwhile, gays and lesbians are treated as second-class citizens, ineligible for the same rights as other citizens. And so, I would've voted against proposition 8.
There needs to be an institution that gives gay and lesbian Americans the same rights as married straight Americans. Otherwise, we will not live in the nation our forefathers designed.
"When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. "
- John Hancock
Thursday, October 30, 2008
La Dolce Vita!
This week has been amazing.
I am now an employee of Netflix. I'm two days into training and loving it. It's 100% customer service, I get three days off a week, I have benefits effective immediately, pay is great, the work atmosphere is refreshing...I could go on forever. I once swore I would never work in a call center and sit at a cubicle in front of a computer all day. The minute I walked into the building, however, I was amazed at how relaxed the work environment was. They treat their employees like gold. I feel very blessed. Oh, and I get a free Netflix subscription! And not just 1 or 2 DVDs at a time. No. I get 8. It's a huge perk for movie buffs like Nathan and I. Our first eight arrive tomorrow.
We are pretty much all moved in to our apartment. We're little by little getting boxes put away and whatnot. We love our little love nest.
The Bridal Showcase was really fun. I made some very useful modeling contacts. They had us running around all over the place. I drove all the way across Portland two days last week. It was fun, though. I haven't explored very much of that particular part of the city. I saw my friend Heather from high school at the show. She's getting married next August and was browsing for dresses and venues with her mom and sister. It was nice to reconnect with her.
I am very anxious for the election next week. Primarily, so all the negative ad campaigns will end. And so Oregon Forward will stop calling me. The joys of being a registered Independent. I am very hopeful that Barack Obama wins. I know it's all in God's hands and our best interests are ultimately designed by Him, but if it be His will I pray Obama will guide our nation through the next four and perhaps eight years.
I bought a used copy of a book called Presence. It's a collection of short stories by Arthur Miller, who is my favorite playwright. It's a good read.
I feel like I have more purpose in my life right now. It is difficult to describe. I feel very centered, very purpose-driven.
I love trees.
I cannot believe that the purpose of life is to be happy. I think the purpose of life is to be useful, to be responsible, to be compassionate. It is, above all to matter, to count, to stand for something, to have made some difference that you lived at all.
- Leo Rosten
I am now an employee of Netflix. I'm two days into training and loving it. It's 100% customer service, I get three days off a week, I have benefits effective immediately, pay is great, the work atmosphere is refreshing...I could go on forever. I once swore I would never work in a call center and sit at a cubicle in front of a computer all day. The minute I walked into the building, however, I was amazed at how relaxed the work environment was. They treat their employees like gold. I feel very blessed. Oh, and I get a free Netflix subscription! And not just 1 or 2 DVDs at a time. No. I get 8. It's a huge perk for movie buffs like Nathan and I. Our first eight arrive tomorrow.
We are pretty much all moved in to our apartment. We're little by little getting boxes put away and whatnot. We love our little love nest.
The Bridal Showcase was really fun. I made some very useful modeling contacts. They had us running around all over the place. I drove all the way across Portland two days last week. It was fun, though. I haven't explored very much of that particular part of the city. I saw my friend Heather from high school at the show. She's getting married next August and was browsing for dresses and venues with her mom and sister. It was nice to reconnect with her.
I am very anxious for the election next week. Primarily, so all the negative ad campaigns will end. And so Oregon Forward will stop calling me. The joys of being a registered Independent. I am very hopeful that Barack Obama wins. I know it's all in God's hands and our best interests are ultimately designed by Him, but if it be His will I pray Obama will guide our nation through the next four and perhaps eight years.
I bought a used copy of a book called Presence. It's a collection of short stories by Arthur Miller, who is my favorite playwright. It's a good read.
I feel like I have more purpose in my life right now. It is difficult to describe. I feel very centered, very purpose-driven.
I love trees.
I cannot believe that the purpose of life is to be happy. I think the purpose of life is to be useful, to be responsible, to be compassionate. It is, above all to matter, to count, to stand for something, to have made some difference that you lived at all.
- Leo Rosten
Friday, October 17, 2008
Turn and face the strain...
I worked my last day at SBux on Wednesday. It was bittersweet. I wish Tuesday could've been Wednesday, because then I would've had a better last day. Tuesday was a lot nicer than Wednesday.
My dad took a cabaret class at Tony Starlight's Supperclub and they gave a performance last week. It was so good! They had a jam session afterwards, and I sang "I'll Be Seeing You" and dad sang a Cole Porter song, the name of which escapes me at the moment. It was a lot of fun. My dad is awesome.
Nate and I move into our new apartment tomorrow!!! I'm so pumped!
I had a phone interview for a CSR position with Netflix on Thursday. It went very well, I have an in-person interview on Tuesday. The pay is great, so I'm praying really hard that this one works out. I also have an appointment to reactivate my file with the temp agency I used to work with, and I've put my resume out to a couple of other places. So far the prospects are promising.
I also have a modeling gig! I'm a runway model for the Rose City Bridal Showcase next weekend. I'm really excited. I have a rehearsal on Sunday afternoon.
Nate and I watched The Notebook last night. The first time I saw that movie, I hated it. Loathed it. I thought it was so contrived and stupidly cheesy. After watching it last night, I now really really like it. I don't think I really appreciated the story the first time I saw it. And also, it's interesting how our life experiences influence the way we see things. Having Nathan in my life has just added so many colors to the canvas; I think that had a lot to do with my shifted opinion as well. :)
I'm really ready for the election to be over. The negative campaigning just sends so many bad vibes.
I've said it before, I'll say it again: I love autumn in Oregon.
So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What's it look like?
- Noah Calhoun
My dad took a cabaret class at Tony Starlight's Supperclub and they gave a performance last week. It was so good! They had a jam session afterwards, and I sang "I'll Be Seeing You" and dad sang a Cole Porter song, the name of which escapes me at the moment. It was a lot of fun. My dad is awesome.
Nate and I move into our new apartment tomorrow!!! I'm so pumped!
I had a phone interview for a CSR position with Netflix on Thursday. It went very well, I have an in-person interview on Tuesday. The pay is great, so I'm praying really hard that this one works out. I also have an appointment to reactivate my file with the temp agency I used to work with, and I've put my resume out to a couple of other places. So far the prospects are promising.
I also have a modeling gig! I'm a runway model for the Rose City Bridal Showcase next weekend. I'm really excited. I have a rehearsal on Sunday afternoon.
Nate and I watched The Notebook last night. The first time I saw that movie, I hated it. Loathed it. I thought it was so contrived and stupidly cheesy. After watching it last night, I now really really like it. I don't think I really appreciated the story the first time I saw it. And also, it's interesting how our life experiences influence the way we see things. Having Nathan in my life has just added so many colors to the canvas; I think that had a lot to do with my shifted opinion as well. :)
I'm really ready for the election to be over. The negative campaigning just sends so many bad vibes.
I've said it before, I'll say it again: I love autumn in Oregon.
So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What's it look like?
- Noah Calhoun
Friday, October 3, 2008
The Next Chapter
I gave my two weeks notice at the Starb on Wednesday. Since the first day I worked at this particular store, I've kept saying "Well, tomorrow it will get better...Saturday will be less busy...Monday someone won't call off...Wednesday we won't be understaffed...Next week it'll get better..."
Next week kept coming, and it never got any better. I'm sure it will eventually, but I'm no longer willing to wait. My particular position is too much stress for not enough money. It's time to move on. And make more money.
Nathan and my parents were more adamant about me quitting than I was. I was going to stick it out as long as possible. That may have been disastrous.
Even since I gave my notice, I keep questioning if I made the right decision. I'm unemployed as of October 15th. I lose my benefits at the end of the month. How long will it take me to get another job? I've become so used to coffee-making and multitasking, I'm weirdly scared of my life without it.
But why am I so anxious? I know I did the right thing. I'm so unhappy there now. It used to be so much fun, and now it's just stress. And I'm worth so much more than what they're paying me.
Then I found this. Which kind of sums up almost the reason behind every thing I've ever been apprehensive about, including my job.
From www.backinskinnyjeans.com by Stephanie Quilao
8 Ways “Perfect Girl” Holds You Back
Many of us let our inner Perfect Girl take the driver’s seat because we believe that she knows all the answers and that she knows better than we do. Indeed, in many cases Perfect Girl has helped us be accomplished, and has helped us develop high standards for our life which is a good thing. However, Perfect Girl can also hold you back from being your true self and from living your most authentic life. Here’s 8 ways Perfect Girl holds you back:
Perfect Girl likes to stay within her comfort zone. She will only tackle things she knows she can at least be 90% good at. If you only stick to things you think you’re good at, how do you know you’re not missing out on something you could be awesome at, but would never try because initially it doesn’t look like something you could be good at. Start stepping out of your comfort zone.
Perfect Girl is high maintenance. Ever notice that when she is in charge, you are always tired, frustrated, and tense? Why, because Perfect Girl is unrealistic, relentless and pushes you constantly to go way above the call duty. Start asking yourself why you have to do more work than need be.
Perfect Girl can’t stop and smell the roses because she’s fixated on wanting to prune the roses, water the roses, and read tips from Martha Stewart to make her roses grow bigger and brighter. In reality, life is not a competition or a beauty contest, only Perfect Girl believes that.
Ever wonder why that guy at work whom you think is a “total idiot with dumb half planned ideas” always gets his projects or a budget approved, or gets invited to planning meetings you don’t? Well, that’s because he’s not waiting for “perfect work.” He’s okay with “good enough.” Perfect Girl has to wait until all her ducks are in a row and every “i” is dotted before she’ll move forward, and in the process everyone else passes you by.
Perfect Girl starts mentally beating you up because “you” failed at meeting all the goals on her to do list. Instead of focusing on the success you did achieve for the week (prosperity thinking), Perfect Girl focuses on what you failed at (lack thinking). Perfect Girl hinders your prosperity.
Perfect Girl apologizes for everything whether it is her fault or not. You are not responsible for other people’s actions, only your own if you genuinely did something to warrant an apology. If they get mad, so what? They will get over it. When you apologize for others you are actually hindering their own growth. People learn by having to reap what they sow.
Perfect Girl does not set boundaries because she is afraid of people getting mad at her. This behavior trains people to treat you like a doormat. If you don’t set boundaries, people will continue to push you around, use you, and take advantage of you. In turn you become resentful and angry, so to change that start setting limits with people and tell them so.
Perfect Girl is boring and unreal. Turn the tables. Have you ever been around someone who does everything right and perfectly? How does it make you feel? Flaws and imperfections are what make people unique and interesting like a cool worn-in leather jacket.
So, when you feel Perfect Girl starting to take over, remember, you are the one driving your life not her. At the same time, don’t ignore her and do acknowledge that she is a part of you too. When you can work as a team, life becomes better for both of you.
It's time to break out my comfort zone, set some boundaries, stop apologizing for things that aren't my fault, stop beating myself up and start smelling the roses instead of coffee beans.
Next week kept coming, and it never got any better. I'm sure it will eventually, but I'm no longer willing to wait. My particular position is too much stress for not enough money. It's time to move on. And make more money.
Nathan and my parents were more adamant about me quitting than I was. I was going to stick it out as long as possible. That may have been disastrous.
Even since I gave my notice, I keep questioning if I made the right decision. I'm unemployed as of October 15th. I lose my benefits at the end of the month. How long will it take me to get another job? I've become so used to coffee-making and multitasking, I'm weirdly scared of my life without it.
But why am I so anxious? I know I did the right thing. I'm so unhappy there now. It used to be so much fun, and now it's just stress. And I'm worth so much more than what they're paying me.
Then I found this. Which kind of sums up almost the reason behind every thing I've ever been apprehensive about, including my job.
From www.backinskinnyjeans.com by Stephanie Quilao
8 Ways “Perfect Girl” Holds You Back
Many of us let our inner Perfect Girl take the driver’s seat because we believe that she knows all the answers and that she knows better than we do. Indeed, in many cases Perfect Girl has helped us be accomplished, and has helped us develop high standards for our life which is a good thing. However, Perfect Girl can also hold you back from being your true self and from living your most authentic life. Here’s 8 ways Perfect Girl holds you back:
Perfect Girl likes to stay within her comfort zone. She will only tackle things she knows she can at least be 90% good at. If you only stick to things you think you’re good at, how do you know you’re not missing out on something you could be awesome at, but would never try because initially it doesn’t look like something you could be good at. Start stepping out of your comfort zone.
Perfect Girl is high maintenance. Ever notice that when she is in charge, you are always tired, frustrated, and tense? Why, because Perfect Girl is unrealistic, relentless and pushes you constantly to go way above the call duty. Start asking yourself why you have to do more work than need be.
Perfect Girl can’t stop and smell the roses because she’s fixated on wanting to prune the roses, water the roses, and read tips from Martha Stewart to make her roses grow bigger and brighter. In reality, life is not a competition or a beauty contest, only Perfect Girl believes that.
Ever wonder why that guy at work whom you think is a “total idiot with dumb half planned ideas” always gets his projects or a budget approved, or gets invited to planning meetings you don’t? Well, that’s because he’s not waiting for “perfect work.” He’s okay with “good enough.” Perfect Girl has to wait until all her ducks are in a row and every “i” is dotted before she’ll move forward, and in the process everyone else passes you by.
Perfect Girl starts mentally beating you up because “you” failed at meeting all the goals on her to do list. Instead of focusing on the success you did achieve for the week (prosperity thinking), Perfect Girl focuses on what you failed at (lack thinking). Perfect Girl hinders your prosperity.
Perfect Girl apologizes for everything whether it is her fault or not. You are not responsible for other people’s actions, only your own if you genuinely did something to warrant an apology. If they get mad, so what? They will get over it. When you apologize for others you are actually hindering their own growth. People learn by having to reap what they sow.
Perfect Girl does not set boundaries because she is afraid of people getting mad at her. This behavior trains people to treat you like a doormat. If you don’t set boundaries, people will continue to push you around, use you, and take advantage of you. In turn you become resentful and angry, so to change that start setting limits with people and tell them so.
Perfect Girl is boring and unreal. Turn the tables. Have you ever been around someone who does everything right and perfectly? How does it make you feel? Flaws and imperfections are what make people unique and interesting like a cool worn-in leather jacket.
So, when you feel Perfect Girl starting to take over, remember, you are the one driving your life not her. At the same time, don’t ignore her and do acknowledge that she is a part of you too. When you can work as a team, life becomes better for both of you.
It's time to break out my comfort zone, set some boundaries, stop apologizing for things that aren't my fault, stop beating myself up and start smelling the roses instead of coffee beans.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Happy Autumn!
Autumn in Oregon is beautiful. It's crisp but not cold. It's red and orange, but the pines stay green. It's awesome.
Nathan started his new job on Thursday. Just like all transitions, it is laced with challenges. But he gets some great perks, so that's exciting. We went to the Evergreen Aviation and Space Museum for free today! It was so cool. The Spruce Goose has been here for a long time now, but this was the first time I'd ever seen it. They have a bunch of the scale models that were used for the film The Aviator. Those were neat too.
We found a lovely apartment. We move in a couple of weeks. I've been shopping my Ikea catalog, making note of all the beautiful furniture I want to buy! There's a deck/balcony. I'm excited to buy some pots and plant some flowers before it gets too cold.
I may have to go back and edit all of my blog entries. I found at least 3 spelling errors and I almost went MAD! I'm a compulsive grammar/spelling checker.
I think privatizing social security is a bad idea. No thank you, John McCain.
It's gym time! Good night and dream well.
Nathan started his new job on Thursday. Just like all transitions, it is laced with challenges. But he gets some great perks, so that's exciting. We went to the Evergreen Aviation and Space Museum for free today! It was so cool. The Spruce Goose has been here for a long time now, but this was the first time I'd ever seen it. They have a bunch of the scale models that were used for the film The Aviator. Those were neat too.
We found a lovely apartment. We move in a couple of weeks. I've been shopping my Ikea catalog, making note of all the beautiful furniture I want to buy! There's a deck/balcony. I'm excited to buy some pots and plant some flowers before it gets too cold.
I may have to go back and edit all of my blog entries. I found at least 3 spelling errors and I almost went MAD! I'm a compulsive grammar/spelling checker.
I think privatizing social security is a bad idea. No thank you, John McCain.
It's gym time! Good night and dream well.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Vows - Edited 9/23
Prospects will crumble
Tears will fall
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Dollars will dwindle
Cupboards will empty
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Auras will thicken
Rooms will divide
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Warranties will expire
Plumbing will fail
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Dreams will evolve
Inspiration will flourish
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Faith will sprout
Love, we will.
No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.
- written by me, September 18, 2008
I will no doubt rearrange all the words six or seven times before I decide that my original draft was the best. (And I did!)
Words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
-Lord Byron
Tears will fall
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Dollars will dwindle
Cupboards will empty
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Auras will thicken
Rooms will divide
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Warranties will expire
Plumbing will fail
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Dreams will evolve
Inspiration will flourish
“No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.”
Faith will sprout
Love, we will.
No matter what happens,
I’ll always have you.
- written by me, September 18, 2008
I will no doubt rearrange all the words six or seven times before I decide that my original draft was the best. (And I did!)
Words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
-Lord Byron
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
An Open Letter to the General Public:
Dear populace,
I'm sick of you thinking you are better than me.
I'm sick of you driving up to the window in your Suburban and treating me like dirt. Just because you're decked from head to toe in Nike on your way back from the country club sporting your Coach purse and gaudy fake-looking diamond ring does not give you the right to be rude to me and my fellow hardworking co-workers.
Two customers ordered similar drinks today. One didn't get made because there was a miscommunication and the partner preparing beverages thought it was mistakenly entered in the computer. When my co-worker at the window told the customer politely that it would be just a moment, that there was a mix-up. She scoffs, turns to the woman in the passenger and says "Apparently it doesn't take an education to work at Starbucks...Yeah, I guess they'll hire anybody."
You are no better than the young man working behind the register at McDonalds. You are no better than your waitress at The Olive Garden. You are no better than the gentleman at Chevron pumping your gas. We are all made of water and carbon. We breathe the same air and walk the same ground. We are completely equal in God's eyes.
Why don't you chose to treat me as you would your brother or sister? At the end of it all, aren't we all connected? Why do you feel the need to elevate yourself? Are you that dissatisfied with your life and who you are, that you must put down others? I am sad for you.
Perhaps you should evaluate what's really important in your life. And you could probably also benefit from choosing the Tall Frappucino instead of the Venti.
Sincerely.
Friday, August 22, 2008
A Victory For Self-Confident Average/Small-Breasted-All-Natural Women Everywhere:
Why Men Crave Real (Not Perfect) Bodies
from here.
Actor Gabriel Olds has dated his fair share of surgically enhanced women. Now he tells us why most men prefer the real deal—“flaws” and all.
I met Tessa at a premiere party in Hollywood several summers ago. It was held in a decked-out airline hangar, and everything, from the stunning cocktail waitresses to the champagne fountain, was over-the-top. But even in the midst of all that glitz, Tessa was the main attraction. She was a slender, vibrant redhead in a bright orange dress—you couldn’t miss her. After a few minutes of sneaking nervous glances in her direction, I got up the guts to approach. "You’re wearing my favorite color," I said. "I like orange because it rhymes with—"
"Nothing," she finished. The spark was undeniable. Tessa was smart—an investment banker—and had a great laugh. Somehow, she was still single. When she casually slipped me her card at the end of the night, I was ecstatic.
On our date the following week, things got even better. Tessa wore a clingy black dress, and over dinner she lit up with stories of four-million-a-minute losses in the futures market. Sexy. When she asked me back to her place after the check came, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. Soon, as we stood in her hallway, groping each other like teenagers, my hand fumbled to her chest, anticipating the plush, nurturing flesh of her…
Wait a minute. Was her breast rippled? As I felt the telltale implant bag under her skin, I thought, Damn it—fake boobs. My mind overflowed with images of hospitals and scalpels. I froze up, and Tessa noticed.
"You’re acting weird," she said.
"I am not. I mean, maybe I am. It’s just, um, are these, uh," I stammered, still sheepishly groping at her chest.
"Are you frisking me?" she asked.
I stammered on.
"Get out," she said.
Before I knew what had hit me, I was back in my car, driving away from the first woman who’d sparked my interest in months. What just happened? Was I really going to let plastic surgery get in the way of my search for love—again?
That’s right. Tessa wasn’t the first surgically enhanced woman I’d dated, and she wouldn’t be the last. Let me explain: I’m an actor in my thirties, and I live in Los Angeles, a town that seems overrun with silicone. Before I met Tessa I’d already dated women with nose jobs, huge breast enhancements and lips plumped to bee-stung proportions. With each of these women, I’d tell myself that what they did with their bodies was their choice, that it wasn’t my place to judge. But then questions would fill my head: Is this woman really who she seems to be? Am I dating the person or the persona? Inevitably my attraction to them floundered, and the relationship did too. I had, it seemed, a real issue with all the nipping and tucking going on in the dating world. And this wasn’t just an L.A. phenomenon either—I have college friends who’ve noticed the same trend in America’s heartland. In 2006, according to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, there were nearly 11 million cosmetic procedures in the U.S.—that’s nearly a 50 percent increase from 2000.
Certainly, men are partially responsible for this trend. We can be superficial creatures: abandoning faithful life partners for younger, prettier versions, TiVo-ing Skinemax movies and wondering why we, mere mortals, aren’t married to the likes of Jenna Jameson. But as much as we lust after images of hyper-real beauty in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue or even in the apartments or cubicles next door, we don’t quite know how to react when those unreal bodies actually belong to the woman in our lives.
Was surgery something I could handle? Or was it time to start looking for a "natural" woman, "flaws" and all? It would take me three more relationships and a handful of blunders to figure that out—starting with Mia…
No secrets, except surgical ones
I met Mia soon after the Tessa "frisking" incident, and I was relieved that all of her looked and felt natural. She was pretty and feisty, cracking me up with stories about her two schnauzers with rhyming names. Within weeks of meeting, we were an item, taking weekend trips and storing toothbrushes at each other’s apartments. So imagine my surprise when, during a rainy day many months later, Mia decided to show me an old photo album—and I didn’t recognize anyone in the pictures. "Where are you?" I asked.
Silence.
Finally, she laughed nervously and said, "I’m right there, silly." I looked closer.
Same hair, same smile, but when I finally focused between her eyes, I blurted, "You had a nose job?!"
I was baffled, and more than a little hurt. We’d been dating for almost a year. She’d trusted me enough to tell me about losing her virginity and her secret dreams of moving to Spain, so why hadn’t she trusted me enough to tell me about her surgery? She made light of it, and insisted there was nothing to talk about, but I couldn’t let it go. It seemed dishonest. A lie by omission, surely—but also a lost opportunity for intimacy. Why had she gotten the nose job? How did it feel before and after? These were things I wanted to know. And once I realized she didn’t feel the need to share them with me, the trust between us was gone. Our relationship ended pretty quickly after that.
Trying to see past the nips and tucks
Not long after things went south with Mia, I met an ad executive who was elegant and quirky (one of my favorite combinations) and whose proportions seemed perfectly normal. I asked her to dinner, and we met a few weeks later at a Japanese restaurant. But something was different about her that night. As she nibbled at a bowl of edamame, I figured it out: Her lower lip seemed much fuller than it was the first time we’d met—it looked like the mouths of actresses I’d worked with who’d gotten collagen and talked about it openly. And since those actresses were so comfortable discussing it, I felt comfortable asking the ad exec, "When’d you get your work done?"
"Work done?" she shot back. "Who do you think I am, a stripper?" I was beginning to get the picture: Women might chat about their surgery—or adventures at the dermatologist’s office—with near strangers, but the new guy they’re dating is probably the last person they feel like sharing with. If I wanted to know whether my date still had all her God-given parts, I needed to figure it out from visual cues alone. When it came to implants, if the boobs were pert with no bra: fake. If they were too rounded on top: fake. Needless to say, my obsession with all of this became a topic of great amusement for my coupled friends. "What was it this time, Gabe?" they’d ask when we gathered for dinner.
Then I met Callie, who didn’t make me guess. She singled me out at a friend’s birthday party, regaling me with childhood stories, most of which involved some sort of brawl. "By the way," Callie suddenly said, "these fake boobs are so not me." This was a change: I’d hardly had time to notice her breasts—all my attempts to check her out discreetly had been foiled by her gaze, and she was already revealing that they weren’t real. Her forthrightness was a breath of fresh air, and I felt comfortable asking why she’d gotten fake boobs in the first place— if they weren’t "her"? It turned out a former boyfriend had woken her up one morning with a very romantic question: "Hey, you ever think about getting better boobs?" Callie loved this guy, and after a series of failed relationships, she wanted to please him, so she went out and bought big, D-cup implants a few months later. Unsurprisingly, they broke up soon after that, and Callie was left with a very strange relationship souvenir. Some girls have tattoos of old lovers’ names; Callie had an $8,000 pair of breasts.
I’d started to really like Callie. And as we talked about the problems her implants caused for her—the way people took her less seriously at work, the unsettling way she no longer recognized herself in the mirror—I came to a realization about why I was so wary of women with plastic surgery. As far as I could tell, almost all the women I’d met who had changed their bodies through surgery had either done it to bandage some adolescent body issue or to make themselves more attractive to men. I didn’t like that—it didn’t seem like a celebration of beauty, but a scrambling attempt to fix something. What I wanted was to be with a woman who worshiped herself as much as I worshiped her. I mean, come on, this is the female form here, the most beautiful thing on earth. To me, surgery somehow implied a lack of confidence. It was as if something purchased to say, "Hey, check me out," actually said, "I don’t like myself very much." I knew that in some ways, this was a ridiculous generalization. Women get surgery for all kinds of reasons. Who was I to decide that every person with a chiseled nose also came with psychological baggage? But I couldn’t help it; that’s how I felt.
When I explained this theory to Callie, she said she understood. In fact, she told me, she’d decided to get her implants removed. Great, I thought. Callie would get back her real body, and I would get a girlfriend with natural breasts. But part of her transformation, apparently, included cutting me out of her life. I’ll never know exactly why she disappeared without a word after her surgery, but I have a feeling she wanted to rethink her relationships with men—what they wanted from her, and what she was willing to do for them. I have to admit, I understand. And looking back now, I can appreciate what she taught me: that choosing to have surgery doesn’t make you a dishonest person.
Understanding what I really needed
After that, determined to change my dating luck, I tried looking for women outside of my Hollywood circle—at the gym, at the grocery story, even at the library. That’s where I met Kara. Kara was a novelist from New York who looked lean and fit and, best of all, completely real, in jeans and a T-shirt. When I thought about getting my hands on her au naturel parts, my mind reeled. During our second make-out session, she stopped me as my hands slipped under her shirt. "Don’t get too excited," she joked. "They’re awful." Were they? Well, one was noticeably larger than the other, and they didn’t look like breasts I was used to seeing on lingerie billboards, but I loved that they were…hers. Kara turned out to be one of the great loves of my life. We dated long distance until the lack of regular contact drove us apart. Sometimes I think I’m still not over her.
In fact Kara (and her gorgeously imperfect body) helped me figure out that dating women who’d been under the knife would probably never feel right to me. There are a thousand enhanced goddesses out there who will one day make other men very happy. I know those women are worth dating, and I’ve fallen in love with a handful of them myself. But I’m pretty sure that the woman for me will deal with her physical peccadilloes with humor and self-acceptance, not surgery.
This is the part I think women don’t understand. When a guy falls in love, his lover’s body parts become bewitching. I’m not going to tell you that our heads don’t turn when we see a stacked blond walking down the street. But when we fall for you—really, really fall for you—you hijack our sense of beautiful. What’s sexy to us? You—in the "before" picture.
In some parts of the article, he still kind of sounds like a kind of a jerk. However, in a world that seems to barrage women with the idea that all men want a Playboy centerfold, it's refreshing to hear this perspective.
I'm tired of seeing women try to change themselves for the sake of someone else's opinion.
from here.
Actor Gabriel Olds has dated his fair share of surgically enhanced women. Now he tells us why most men prefer the real deal—“flaws” and all.
I met Tessa at a premiere party in Hollywood several summers ago. It was held in a decked-out airline hangar, and everything, from the stunning cocktail waitresses to the champagne fountain, was over-the-top. But even in the midst of all that glitz, Tessa was the main attraction. She was a slender, vibrant redhead in a bright orange dress—you couldn’t miss her. After a few minutes of sneaking nervous glances in her direction, I got up the guts to approach. "You’re wearing my favorite color," I said. "I like orange because it rhymes with—"
"Nothing," she finished. The spark was undeniable. Tessa was smart—an investment banker—and had a great laugh. Somehow, she was still single. When she casually slipped me her card at the end of the night, I was ecstatic.
On our date the following week, things got even better. Tessa wore a clingy black dress, and over dinner she lit up with stories of four-million-a-minute losses in the futures market. Sexy. When she asked me back to her place after the check came, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. Soon, as we stood in her hallway, groping each other like teenagers, my hand fumbled to her chest, anticipating the plush, nurturing flesh of her…
Wait a minute. Was her breast rippled? As I felt the telltale implant bag under her skin, I thought, Damn it—fake boobs. My mind overflowed with images of hospitals and scalpels. I froze up, and Tessa noticed.
"You’re acting weird," she said.
"I am not. I mean, maybe I am. It’s just, um, are these, uh," I stammered, still sheepishly groping at her chest.
"Are you frisking me?" she asked.
I stammered on.
"Get out," she said.
Before I knew what had hit me, I was back in my car, driving away from the first woman who’d sparked my interest in months. What just happened? Was I really going to let plastic surgery get in the way of my search for love—again?
That’s right. Tessa wasn’t the first surgically enhanced woman I’d dated, and she wouldn’t be the last. Let me explain: I’m an actor in my thirties, and I live in Los Angeles, a town that seems overrun with silicone. Before I met Tessa I’d already dated women with nose jobs, huge breast enhancements and lips plumped to bee-stung proportions. With each of these women, I’d tell myself that what they did with their bodies was their choice, that it wasn’t my place to judge. But then questions would fill my head: Is this woman really who she seems to be? Am I dating the person or the persona? Inevitably my attraction to them floundered, and the relationship did too. I had, it seemed, a real issue with all the nipping and tucking going on in the dating world. And this wasn’t just an L.A. phenomenon either—I have college friends who’ve noticed the same trend in America’s heartland. In 2006, according to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, there were nearly 11 million cosmetic procedures in the U.S.—that’s nearly a 50 percent increase from 2000.
Certainly, men are partially responsible for this trend. We can be superficial creatures: abandoning faithful life partners for younger, prettier versions, TiVo-ing Skinemax movies and wondering why we, mere mortals, aren’t married to the likes of Jenna Jameson. But as much as we lust after images of hyper-real beauty in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue or even in the apartments or cubicles next door, we don’t quite know how to react when those unreal bodies actually belong to the woman in our lives.
Was surgery something I could handle? Or was it time to start looking for a "natural" woman, "flaws" and all? It would take me three more relationships and a handful of blunders to figure that out—starting with Mia…
No secrets, except surgical ones
I met Mia soon after the Tessa "frisking" incident, and I was relieved that all of her looked and felt natural. She was pretty and feisty, cracking me up with stories about her two schnauzers with rhyming names. Within weeks of meeting, we were an item, taking weekend trips and storing toothbrushes at each other’s apartments. So imagine my surprise when, during a rainy day many months later, Mia decided to show me an old photo album—and I didn’t recognize anyone in the pictures. "Where are you?" I asked.
Silence.
Finally, she laughed nervously and said, "I’m right there, silly." I looked closer.
Same hair, same smile, but when I finally focused between her eyes, I blurted, "You had a nose job?!"
I was baffled, and more than a little hurt. We’d been dating for almost a year. She’d trusted me enough to tell me about losing her virginity and her secret dreams of moving to Spain, so why hadn’t she trusted me enough to tell me about her surgery? She made light of it, and insisted there was nothing to talk about, but I couldn’t let it go. It seemed dishonest. A lie by omission, surely—but also a lost opportunity for intimacy. Why had she gotten the nose job? How did it feel before and after? These were things I wanted to know. And once I realized she didn’t feel the need to share them with me, the trust between us was gone. Our relationship ended pretty quickly after that.
Trying to see past the nips and tucks
Not long after things went south with Mia, I met an ad executive who was elegant and quirky (one of my favorite combinations) and whose proportions seemed perfectly normal. I asked her to dinner, and we met a few weeks later at a Japanese restaurant. But something was different about her that night. As she nibbled at a bowl of edamame, I figured it out: Her lower lip seemed much fuller than it was the first time we’d met—it looked like the mouths of actresses I’d worked with who’d gotten collagen and talked about it openly. And since those actresses were so comfortable discussing it, I felt comfortable asking the ad exec, "When’d you get your work done?"
"Work done?" she shot back. "Who do you think I am, a stripper?" I was beginning to get the picture: Women might chat about their surgery—or adventures at the dermatologist’s office—with near strangers, but the new guy they’re dating is probably the last person they feel like sharing with. If I wanted to know whether my date still had all her God-given parts, I needed to figure it out from visual cues alone. When it came to implants, if the boobs were pert with no bra: fake. If they were too rounded on top: fake. Needless to say, my obsession with all of this became a topic of great amusement for my coupled friends. "What was it this time, Gabe?" they’d ask when we gathered for dinner.
Then I met Callie, who didn’t make me guess. She singled me out at a friend’s birthday party, regaling me with childhood stories, most of which involved some sort of brawl. "By the way," Callie suddenly said, "these fake boobs are so not me." This was a change: I’d hardly had time to notice her breasts—all my attempts to check her out discreetly had been foiled by her gaze, and she was already revealing that they weren’t real. Her forthrightness was a breath of fresh air, and I felt comfortable asking why she’d gotten fake boobs in the first place— if they weren’t "her"? It turned out a former boyfriend had woken her up one morning with a very romantic question: "Hey, you ever think about getting better boobs?" Callie loved this guy, and after a series of failed relationships, she wanted to please him, so she went out and bought big, D-cup implants a few months later. Unsurprisingly, they broke up soon after that, and Callie was left with a very strange relationship souvenir. Some girls have tattoos of old lovers’ names; Callie had an $8,000 pair of breasts.
I’d started to really like Callie. And as we talked about the problems her implants caused for her—the way people took her less seriously at work, the unsettling way she no longer recognized herself in the mirror—I came to a realization about why I was so wary of women with plastic surgery. As far as I could tell, almost all the women I’d met who had changed their bodies through surgery had either done it to bandage some adolescent body issue or to make themselves more attractive to men. I didn’t like that—it didn’t seem like a celebration of beauty, but a scrambling attempt to fix something. What I wanted was to be with a woman who worshiped herself as much as I worshiped her. I mean, come on, this is the female form here, the most beautiful thing on earth. To me, surgery somehow implied a lack of confidence. It was as if something purchased to say, "Hey, check me out," actually said, "I don’t like myself very much." I knew that in some ways, this was a ridiculous generalization. Women get surgery for all kinds of reasons. Who was I to decide that every person with a chiseled nose also came with psychological baggage? But I couldn’t help it; that’s how I felt.
When I explained this theory to Callie, she said she understood. In fact, she told me, she’d decided to get her implants removed. Great, I thought. Callie would get back her real body, and I would get a girlfriend with natural breasts. But part of her transformation, apparently, included cutting me out of her life. I’ll never know exactly why she disappeared without a word after her surgery, but I have a feeling she wanted to rethink her relationships with men—what they wanted from her, and what she was willing to do for them. I have to admit, I understand. And looking back now, I can appreciate what she taught me: that choosing to have surgery doesn’t make you a dishonest person.
Understanding what I really needed
After that, determined to change my dating luck, I tried looking for women outside of my Hollywood circle—at the gym, at the grocery story, even at the library. That’s where I met Kara. Kara was a novelist from New York who looked lean and fit and, best of all, completely real, in jeans and a T-shirt. When I thought about getting my hands on her au naturel parts, my mind reeled. During our second make-out session, she stopped me as my hands slipped under her shirt. "Don’t get too excited," she joked. "They’re awful." Were they? Well, one was noticeably larger than the other, and they didn’t look like breasts I was used to seeing on lingerie billboards, but I loved that they were…hers. Kara turned out to be one of the great loves of my life. We dated long distance until the lack of regular contact drove us apart. Sometimes I think I’m still not over her.
In fact Kara (and her gorgeously imperfect body) helped me figure out that dating women who’d been under the knife would probably never feel right to me. There are a thousand enhanced goddesses out there who will one day make other men very happy. I know those women are worth dating, and I’ve fallen in love with a handful of them myself. But I’m pretty sure that the woman for me will deal with her physical peccadilloes with humor and self-acceptance, not surgery.
This is the part I think women don’t understand. When a guy falls in love, his lover’s body parts become bewitching. I’m not going to tell you that our heads don’t turn when we see a stacked blond walking down the street. But when we fall for you—really, really fall for you—you hijack our sense of beautiful. What’s sexy to us? You—in the "before" picture.
In some parts of the article, he still kind of sounds like a kind of a jerk. However, in a world that seems to barrage women with the idea that all men want a Playboy centerfold, it's refreshing to hear this perspective.
I'm tired of seeing women try to change themselves for the sake of someone else's opinion.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The link to the article on cnn.com won't work, but here's this anyway:
Dear nation,
Lowering the drinking age will not solve American college's binge drinking problem.
It's true that countries such as Canada and the U.K. do not see underage drinking issues on the magnitude that we do here in the states. That being said, however, the U.S. is not Canada or the U.K. Alcohol is a social stigma here. There is so much pressure in college to drink; I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks, it's definitely there in full force.
College binge drinking creates a window for alcoholism later in life. Classes are stressful and students feel the need to deal with it on the weekends with kegstands and beer pong. Lowering the drinking age to 18 isn't going to change that.
Do I have a solution? No. I could spout a bunch of soapbox-speech about raising awareness and all that hullabaloo, but the reality is that parents have a responsibility to their children to teach them the dangers of alcohol and youth have a responsibility to their own well-being to find other ways of dealing with stress in college. Alcohol will not solve your problems. Nine times out of ten, it creates more of them.
I suggest some yoga classes. But that's just me.
Regards.
Lowering the drinking age will not solve American college's binge drinking problem.
It's true that countries such as Canada and the U.K. do not see underage drinking issues on the magnitude that we do here in the states. That being said, however, the U.S. is not Canada or the U.K. Alcohol is a social stigma here. There is so much pressure in college to drink; I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks, it's definitely there in full force.
College binge drinking creates a window for alcoholism later in life. Classes are stressful and students feel the need to deal with it on the weekends with kegstands and beer pong. Lowering the drinking age to 18 isn't going to change that.
Do I have a solution? No. I could spout a bunch of soapbox-speech about raising awareness and all that hullabaloo, but the reality is that parents have a responsibility to their children to teach them the dangers of alcohol and youth have a responsibility to their own well-being to find other ways of dealing with stress in college. Alcohol will not solve your problems. Nine times out of ten, it creates more of them.
I suggest some yoga classes. But that's just me.
Regards.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Think Happy Thoughts...
Back from the beach. It was rainy, but when you keep good company, you know how to have a good time, even when it rains. We watched the ocean, bought some salt water taffy, went to Mo's and said "hello" to Lewis and Clark in Seaside (there's a big statue to commemorate the end of their trail to the northwest).
Work is crazy-busy. I'm pretty tired when I get home from my shift. The days go by much quicker though, which is nice.
Nathan gave me the second part of my birthday present yesterday. He got me a bike! Well, a gift certificate for me to go pick out a bike from The Bike Factory. I've been wanting to start biking more now that I'm back in Portland. I've always thought it would be cool to do the Portland Bridge Pedal one day. It's probably the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. And once he gets one, it'll be another fun thing for us to do together.
I think next week we'll put the names of all the state parks in Oregon that are within an hour-long driving distance into a hat. On my next day off, we'll pull a name out of the hat and just go there.
Life has taught us that love does not consist of gazing at each other, but of looking outward together in the same direction.
- Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Saturday, August 16, 2008
New Beginnings
Welp, we made it! 2,500 miles and about a week later, Nathan and I are beginning our adventure in the Northwest. I started work on Wednesday. It's a much busier store than my previous location, but it makes the days go by faster. And the customers are nicer. And there are big windows. I watch the sun rise on the mornings that I open; it's quite amazing.
It's so nice to be closer to my family and reconnecting with people and places I'd become alienated from. And it's a really wonderful thing to be sharing the places I grew up in with the person I love most.
My daddy sang the national anthem at the Portland Beavers baseball game on Thursday. I was so proud. He's awesome.
Nathan and I are headed to the coast on Monday. The weather has been ridiculously hot the last two days, so I'm hoping it'll stay nice through the weekend.
Life is good.
Every tomorrow has two handles. We can take hold of it by the handle of anxiety, or by the handle of faith.
- Unknown Author
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Nebraska smells like cows...
Tonight Nathan, Sawyer and I watched the sunset from our moving van just outside of Omaha, Nebraska. Even though it smelled funny, it was very beautiful.
By the time we arrive in Oregon, Sawyer will have flown halfway across the country four times and driven through eight states. I'm pretty sure that places him amongst the most well-traveled cats in history.
Driving ten-plus hours every day is exhausting; but what an awfully fun adventure we're having.
Every little thing I've been worried about, God has taken care of and provided ten-fold. For that, I am so thankful.
A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.
- John Steinbeck
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Mantra
Nothing significant in history has ever been accomplished by playing it safe. Risks are terrifying necessities. If I must start from scratch, I will do so with grace and patience, knowing that God charts the map, not me. I have health, love, hope, faith and fervent dedication. Everything else will follow suit.
For every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.
- Ecclesiastes 3:1
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Manifesto: 1st Chapter
This is a work in progress. These issues have been on my mind a lot lately, and I've been itching put it all down. I will revisit this particular post later, it doesn't feel like a finished piece. The part at the end is actually what I wrote first, but then the rest of it just came pouring out and I haven't figured out how to integrate that particular section.
I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker today. She was telling me about how she wants to better manage all the stress in her life and that she feels that exercising regularly will help. She really wants to join a gym, but said: "I feel so self-conscious when I go to the gym, though."
I then rather bluntly told her, "Well, you should just get over it."
She was kind of taken aback. To be honest, so was I. I never say stuff like that. I could tell, though, that this was something she was really struggling with and I wanted to give her some advice.
I'm 5' 10 1/2". I'm a size 4. I weigh 133 pounds. According to contemporary societal convictions, I have what many would call an ideal figure. But when a girl walks by me in the gym who is skinnier or more fit than I am, I fall victim to the voice screaming "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH".
This is what you do: you just have to get over it. You have to scream "SHUT UP" right back at the voice. You have to put on your sweatpants, drive to the gym and do 1 more mile than you think you can. You have to turn up your iPod and do five more reps. You have to suck in your stomach and do fifty more crunches.
You have to watch what you eat while still enjoying what you eat. And you can't eat your feelings. Summer of '06 I started having trouble with anxiety and depression, and the way I treated it was by going to Chipotle and walking to Graeter's. I gained 15 pounds and stopped going to the gym. I felt terrible.
On the flip side, you can't overdo it. Spring of '07 I was getting ready for my senior showcase in front of every major agency in New York City. I was exercising for an hour plus every day and eating somewhere around 1300 calories. I didn't think I was thin enough (It should be said I was not and never have been anorexic.). I weighed 122 pounds. And I felt awful.
5' 10 1/2". 4. 133. 15. 122. They're just numbers. I'm not afraid of them.
I've committed myself to working out at the gym a minimum of 3 times a week. I've trained myself to keep track of what I eat throughout the day. I do my research on nutrition. I'm in really good shape and I'm at a healthy weight.
I turned 23 last Sunday. When I look in the mirror, I am satisfied with the young woman I see. My health and fitness routine are vibrant threads woven into the radiant tapestry staring back at me.
People ask me how I do it; how am I thin. How I keep my figure. I tell them all the things listed above. I wish they would ask me "Why?" so I could look them in the eye and say the following:
"Because it makes me feel better. Because it gives me energy. Because it calms me. Because I feel like I'm taking good care of myself. Because I do it for me."
I apologized for being blunt with my co-worker. I then told her that if it was something she really wanted for herself, she should go for it, and she shouldn't let anything stand in her way. I told her about the numbers.
Everyone is self-conscious and insecure; you just have to deal with it.
[I was never very fit as a younger adult. In fact, I was kind of chubby. I played soccer when I was like seven, but sports and fitness always really intimidated me. I had to take weight training my senior year of high school. It was the most terrifying experience of my life. It was me (the future -valedictorian president of the THEATRE club), half the varsity wrestling squad and seven or eight of our star football players. Needless to say, I was out of my element. I had a really cool teacher, though, and he encouraged me to push myself even though he could tell I was really intimidated. I learned a lot, and felt a lot better in general. I lost some weight, noticed some muscles I didn't even know existed and felt pretty good about myself by the end of the term. On the last day of class, my teacher looked at me and said "Keep it up. Don't lose what you've learned here." I didn't really get it at the time, but that really stuck with me deeply.
Sophomore year I picked up a dance minor. I did it because I sucked at dance and I wanted to get better. I was mediocre on a good day. I also knew it would be really good for me physically; I'd be dancing five days a week for an hour and a half to two hours. I'd started working out more frequently at the campus gym all through freshmen year, but between 19 + credit hours per term and rehearsals and whatnot I didn't develop a solid routine. With the dance minor, I had to drag my ass out of bed for ballet, tap and jazz at 8 am, and I couldn't skip classes more than three times a term. It was fun, but it kicked my ass. It was good for my concept of self-image too; when you have to stare at yourself in the mirror wearing nothing but a leotard and dance tights, you pretty much have to accept the way you look. Picking up the dance minor was probably one of the best decisions of my life. It motivated me to go to the gym even more and eat healthier. I lost more weight and gained more confidence. Spring term my sophomore year, Josey, an upperclassmen who'd been dancing since she was in diapers, watched the end of my intermediate ballet class. As I was gathering my stuff after class, she said "You're a good little dancer, Kate". I still hold tight to that praise to this day.]
People often say that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder,' and I say that the most liberating thing about beauty is realizing that you are the beholder. This empowers us to find beauty in places where others have not dared to look, including inside ourselves.
- Salma Hayek
I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker today. She was telling me about how she wants to better manage all the stress in her life and that she feels that exercising regularly will help. She really wants to join a gym, but said: "I feel so self-conscious when I go to the gym, though."
I then rather bluntly told her, "Well, you should just get over it."
She was kind of taken aback. To be honest, so was I. I never say stuff like that. I could tell, though, that this was something she was really struggling with and I wanted to give her some advice.
I'm 5' 10 1/2". I'm a size 4. I weigh 133 pounds. According to contemporary societal convictions, I have what many would call an ideal figure. But when a girl walks by me in the gym who is skinnier or more fit than I am, I fall victim to the voice screaming "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH".
This is what you do: you just have to get over it. You have to scream "SHUT UP" right back at the voice. You have to put on your sweatpants, drive to the gym and do 1 more mile than you think you can. You have to turn up your iPod and do five more reps. You have to suck in your stomach and do fifty more crunches.
You have to watch what you eat while still enjoying what you eat. And you can't eat your feelings. Summer of '06 I started having trouble with anxiety and depression, and the way I treated it was by going to Chipotle and walking to Graeter's. I gained 15 pounds and stopped going to the gym. I felt terrible.
On the flip side, you can't overdo it. Spring of '07 I was getting ready for my senior showcase in front of every major agency in New York City. I was exercising for an hour plus every day and eating somewhere around 1300 calories. I didn't think I was thin enough (It should be said I was not and never have been anorexic.). I weighed 122 pounds. And I felt awful.
5' 10 1/2". 4. 133. 15. 122. They're just numbers. I'm not afraid of them.
I've committed myself to working out at the gym a minimum of 3 times a week. I've trained myself to keep track of what I eat throughout the day. I do my research on nutrition. I'm in really good shape and I'm at a healthy weight.
I turned 23 last Sunday. When I look in the mirror, I am satisfied with the young woman I see. My health and fitness routine are vibrant threads woven into the radiant tapestry staring back at me.
People ask me how I do it; how am I thin. How I keep my figure. I tell them all the things listed above. I wish they would ask me "Why?" so I could look them in the eye and say the following:
"Because it makes me feel better. Because it gives me energy. Because it calms me. Because I feel like I'm taking good care of myself. Because I do it for me."
I apologized for being blunt with my co-worker. I then told her that if it was something she really wanted for herself, she should go for it, and she shouldn't let anything stand in her way. I told her about the numbers.
Everyone is self-conscious and insecure; you just have to deal with it.
[I was never very fit as a younger adult. In fact, I was kind of chubby. I played soccer when I was like seven, but sports and fitness always really intimidated me. I had to take weight training my senior year of high school. It was the most terrifying experience of my life. It was me (the future -valedictorian president of the THEATRE club), half the varsity wrestling squad and seven or eight of our star football players. Needless to say, I was out of my element. I had a really cool teacher, though, and he encouraged me to push myself even though he could tell I was really intimidated. I learned a lot, and felt a lot better in general. I lost some weight, noticed some muscles I didn't even know existed and felt pretty good about myself by the end of the term. On the last day of class, my teacher looked at me and said "Keep it up. Don't lose what you've learned here." I didn't really get it at the time, but that really stuck with me deeply.
Sophomore year I picked up a dance minor. I did it because I sucked at dance and I wanted to get better. I was mediocre on a good day. I also knew it would be really good for me physically; I'd be dancing five days a week for an hour and a half to two hours. I'd started working out more frequently at the campus gym all through freshmen year, but between 19 + credit hours per term and rehearsals and whatnot I didn't develop a solid routine. With the dance minor, I had to drag my ass out of bed for ballet, tap and jazz at 8 am, and I couldn't skip classes more than three times a term. It was fun, but it kicked my ass. It was good for my concept of self-image too; when you have to stare at yourself in the mirror wearing nothing but a leotard and dance tights, you pretty much have to accept the way you look. Picking up the dance minor was probably one of the best decisions of my life. It motivated me to go to the gym even more and eat healthier. I lost more weight and gained more confidence. Spring term my sophomore year, Josey, an upperclassmen who'd been dancing since she was in diapers, watched the end of my intermediate ballet class. As I was gathering my stuff after class, she said "You're a good little dancer, Kate". I still hold tight to that praise to this day.]
People often say that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder,' and I say that the most liberating thing about beauty is realizing that you are the beholder. This empowers us to find beauty in places where others have not dared to look, including inside ourselves.
- Salma Hayek
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Approaching Independence Day
This evening I watched the tail end of Christiane Amanpour's CNN Special, Notes From North Korea, which chronicles the New York Philharmonic's historic performance in North Korea a few months ago.
Amanpour interviewed a woman by the name of Ji Hae Nam. In 1993, she was thrown in jail, where she was interrogated, tortured and starved over the course of the next three years.
The charge against her? Singing a South Korean pop song at a Christmas party with friends.
The communist regime in North Korea is so strict that singing or performing any music that doesn't promote communist ideals or praise Kim Jong Il is forbidden. The slightest criticism against the communist government lands citizens in jail or worse.
Google Ji Hae Nam. You'll find her 2003 testimony in front of congress. It's heartbreaking.
I am thankful I live in a country where I can sing Gershwin in my kitchen. I can't believe places exist in the world where musicians are forbidden to express themselves.
For every man that lives without freedom, the rest of us must face the guilt.
- Lillian Hellman
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Label Un-Maker
I had a disturbing interaction with a customer a couple of weeks ago.
He was upset we didn't have coffee (the brewer was broken). When he found out I was in charge, he took it upon himself to start giving me a bad time. He ordered a beverage, then decided he wanted a different size and ultimately decided he wanted it iced. So as I'm re-making the beverage for the third time, he asks me my name.
"Kate," I answer warily.
"You from Columbus, Kate?"
"No, I'm from just outside of Portland, Oregon."
To which he replies (verbatim): "Oregon, huh? Well, you must be a tree-hugging liberal, then. Are you voting for Barack Obama?"
I was stunned. I was shocked that that kind of ignorance actually existed. I mean, he was totally serious.
I wasn't insulted; I happen to think environmental awareness is a key issue, I think Obama is the man for the job and they're both things I'm proud to say.
But why are people so obsessed with labels?
Even right after he said it, I came up with more than several unflattering terms for this particular gentleman, none of which I'm proud of, so I won't repeat them.
I'm currently reading A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, in which he suggests that name-calling and labeling are the most basic and crudest manifestations of our unconscious' need to feel superior to others. By making someone a "this" or a "that", we make ourselves "feel better" by placing ourselves above them.
There's no point. There's no purpose to making yourself superior. There's no purpose in being superior to anyone, because it's impossible. We're all the same in the eyes of God.
How did I respond? I smiled smugly and replied "I'm not allowed to discuss politics while I'm working." According to Mr. Tolle (I'm totally paraphrasing, because I can't find the particular pages I'm looking for), lack of retaliation is the most effective response in regards to the positive upkeep of one's spirit. It really resonated with me when I read that.
It's beautiful outside. I'm going to the pool.
No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.
- Eleanor Roosevelt
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Blessings: Vol. 2
It's been a very stressful week. So I'm focusing on the many blessings in my life to keep myself from completely freaking out. Here are five of the highlights I am thankful for:
1. I'm thankful for my boyfriend. You know it's love when you both always offer each other the last little smidgen of organic chocolate cake/Dippin' Dots/bottled water.
2. I'm thankful for my job. I love the work environment. I love the people I work with. I love that I constantly have something to do, even though it's exhausting. I love that I don't have to sit on my butt and answer phones or beg people for money or con them into buying something they don't need. It's not awesome money, but it's decent money and I have great health insurance. I would rather make less money at a job I love than make six figures stuck in a cubicle. I gave a customer a complimentary beverage the other day because she was having a rough morning. She said it made her day. In turn, it made my day.
3. I'm thankful for Brooklyn Boy. I just finished doing a really great play with really great people. When I was in New York, I kept receiving the advice that I should "look for the actor whose career I want." I found bits and pieces in different individuals, but couldn't find who I really wanted to be like. I found her, in both of the other women in the cast. They have genuine down-to -earth personalities, have made pretty steady careers for themselves in acting, and they don't live in NYC or LA. It's hard to explain; I want a acting/performing life without an excess of the crap that goes along with it, and I found two other ladies who've done that. I feel like we proved that great art can happen anywhere when you have legitimately talented artists, great director and a well-written script. I'm also thankful for this experience because it's really rekindled my passion for the art.
4. I'm thankful for my parents. I'm really close with them. I talk to my mom at least once a day; sometimes twice. I'm thankful that I'll be closer to them (geographically!) soon.
5. I'm thankful for my fitness progress. All through high school, I was the kid who couldn't even jog two minutes of the monthly mile run. I usually walked the entire way in a little over twelve minutes. I'm now running an 8:07 mile on the elliptical at the gym.
My challenge for myself this week is to not get caught up in "stuff". My phone and my laptop both broke on the same day, and I had a fit. Two expensive devices I rely heavily upon. Broken. Cracked. In need of repair. Costing me money. Money that I want to save.
Ultimately, it's just a computer, it's just a phone and it's just money. There are so many other important things in life. They're just three things that have gone awry in the grand scheme of my many other abundant blessings. "Stuff" isn't important.
I have love. I have family. I have hope. I have faith. I have much to be thankful for.
God is good, even when life is not.
The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he's always doing both.
- James A. Michener
1. I'm thankful for my boyfriend. You know it's love when you both always offer each other the last little smidgen of organic chocolate cake/Dippin' Dots/bottled water.
2. I'm thankful for my job. I love the work environment. I love the people I work with. I love that I constantly have something to do, even though it's exhausting. I love that I don't have to sit on my butt and answer phones or beg people for money or con them into buying something they don't need. It's not awesome money, but it's decent money and I have great health insurance. I would rather make less money at a job I love than make six figures stuck in a cubicle. I gave a customer a complimentary beverage the other day because she was having a rough morning. She said it made her day. In turn, it made my day.
3. I'm thankful for Brooklyn Boy. I just finished doing a really great play with really great people. When I was in New York, I kept receiving the advice that I should "look for the actor whose career I want." I found bits and pieces in different individuals, but couldn't find who I really wanted to be like. I found her, in both of the other women in the cast. They have genuine down-to -earth personalities, have made pretty steady careers for themselves in acting, and they don't live in NYC or LA. It's hard to explain; I want a acting/performing life without an excess of the crap that goes along with it, and I found two other ladies who've done that. I feel like we proved that great art can happen anywhere when you have legitimately talented artists, great director and a well-written script. I'm also thankful for this experience because it's really rekindled my passion for the art.
4. I'm thankful for my parents. I'm really close with them. I talk to my mom at least once a day; sometimes twice. I'm thankful that I'll be closer to them (geographically!) soon.
5. I'm thankful for my fitness progress. All through high school, I was the kid who couldn't even jog two minutes of the monthly mile run. I usually walked the entire way in a little over twelve minutes. I'm now running an 8:07 mile on the elliptical at the gym.
My challenge for myself this week is to not get caught up in "stuff". My phone and my laptop both broke on the same day, and I had a fit. Two expensive devices I rely heavily upon. Broken. Cracked. In need of repair. Costing me money. Money that I want to save.
Ultimately, it's just a computer, it's just a phone and it's just money. There are so many other important things in life. They're just three things that have gone awry in the grand scheme of my many other abundant blessings. "Stuff" isn't important.
I have love. I have family. I have hope. I have faith. I have much to be thankful for.
God is good, even when life is not.
- James A. Michener
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Why I Love Geese
The meaning of life can be found in the following scenario:
I'm driving down Schrock Road on my way home from work. I turn left at the light. Not far ahead in front of me are two geese crossing the road. As I approach them, I see they are attempting to escort their six or seven goslings to the other side of the street. A police car is stopped at the corner of a parking lot entrance, watching them. Mama and Papa Goose are violently craning their necks; pumping their ebony heads rapidly up and down and hissing at the Ford Five Hundred and Honda CRV in front of me. These titanic monster-cars have them grossly out-gunned, but Mama and Papa are ready to fight my station wagon to the death. The tiny gaggle of goslings are slowly scurrying towards their parents, except for one who's decided all this street-crossing nonsense is making him tired so he needs to plop in the middle of the lane for a few minutes. I change lanes and slowly pass them. As I'm looking into the goose's intense beady-black gaze, it occurs to me:
We are the geese, fiercely defending our precious essence from the goliath cars life hurls at us as we cross the street. God is the police car; watching, protecting but not interfering with how we react to the monsters in our way.
He knows we will make it to the other side of the road, all the better for having made the journey.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Porcelain Goddess' Burden
I used to be self-conscious about my pasty white complexion.
I used to think I was unnaturally pale, until my make-up artist from a photo shoot commented that my fair skin made me a "porcelain goddess". Since that day, I've never lamented my melanin-deprived complexion. Power to the un-tanned!
But sometimes it sucks when I spend a grand total of fifteen minutes in the sun and then return to my apartment with pink shoulders and funky halter-top-shaped tan lines.
Totally worth it, though, for all of this amazing SUNSHINE!
In other news, I'm in a play. It's nice to be acting again. Turns out I've missed it more than I thought I did.
"Don't knock the weather. If it didn't change once in a while, nine out of ten people couldn't start a conversation."
- Kin Hubbard
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Humanity in Context
Lately, I find myself easily frustrated by human stupidity.
I sometimes think some people wake up in the morning and seriously say to themselves, "I think I'll be a douchebag today."
It's not that I've lost all hope for humanity. I've always believed in the overall goodness of people. The negative just seems to be grossly magnified lately. I feel like I see so many rude faces. I feel like I get really irritated really easily.
So I've started an experiment to combat my toxic mindset. Instead of seeing someone's face, I try to see their story.
It's very easy to take a person out of context. For example: I helped a customer a couple of Saturdays ago who was very rude. She misspoke her order, and when I tried to clarify, she snapped at me. It had been a long day, and I really wasn't in the mood for a verbal assault from this old lady. I quietly told her the total dollar amount, placed her order on the bar and prayed she would just leave quickly. Out of nowhere, she turns around and apologizes. "I'm sorry," she says, "We've had a really rough time, lately. My husband's not well."
I realized it wasn't about me; it was about her story. It was about what she had been through. I'll bet nine times out of ten the way a person acts is the result of something they've been through in the past.
So my personal challenge is to take human behavior in context. My challenge is to discover their stories. Hopefully it'll help me not take things so personally, and maybe have a very small impact on someone's life.
People are unreasonable, illogical and self-centered.
Love them anyway.
- Mother Theresa
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Blessings
I love Easter.
Whether you're Christian or not, Easter is the celebration of life renewed. It always falls around the beginning of spring, when snow begins to melt and flowers start to appear.
I always start to notice more and more butterflies around this time of year.
I was very blessed to spend Easter Sunday with Nathan, both of my parents and a good portion of Nathan's family. It was really fun hanging out with Nathan's grandpa. All four of my grandparents are gone now, so I always enjoy seeing Grandpa Len and chatting with him. He reminds me a lot of my grandpa.
It seems like it's been a tough year for not only myself, but for many friends and loved ones. So, I propose a blog-toast to fresh beginnings; new flowers, melted snow, fresh grass and baby ducks. Here's to butterflies; here's to moving away from clouds and closer to sunshine.
Here's to an empty tomb. Amen.
It is the hour to rend thy chains;
The blossom time of souls.
- Katherine Lee Bates
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
There's A Moment When You Know The Thousands of Dollars You Shelled Out Were Worth It...
So we're sitting at the Maxtown Starbucks last night during our Espresso Bar Re-Training, and our trainer has us participate in a roll-playing exercise. Everything goes smoothly; afterwards, she says "Hey thanks for bearing with me through that. I know roll-playing scenarios like that can be nervewracking, I personally hate them..."
And inside I'm thinking "Nervewracking? No, 'nervewracking' is singing 'Far From The Home I Love' in front of an oversold house with a fever of 104 on the first day you've actually even been able to speak out of the last five. 'Nervewracking' is going to open a door to enter the stage and having it get stuck, forcing you to make up Neil-Simon-esque dialogue at the last second. 'Nervewracking' is being 5'10" and having to dance and move gracefully in front of a thousand-plus sold out crowd in four inch heels. You think improvising a simple coffee-house training scenario is tough? Come find me after you've played a 60-year-old armless southern woman who draws pictures with her feet. Then we'll talk about 'nervewracking'."
God, I love theatre. It's like doing the impossible over and over again.
Prepare your mind to receive the best that life has to offer.
-Ernest Holmes
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Peaceful, Easy Feelings
The sun is shining today. Sometimes that makes all the difference.
Reality is the leading cause of stress amongst those in touch with it.
- Jane Wagner
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Rejoicing in Suffering
Some jerk broke into Nathan's car Sunday night.
Not "broke into" like they bashed in one of the windows; "broke into" as in they took a device, removed the entire lock mechanism and then proceeded to try and hot wire the car by cutting out a piece of the plastic underneath the ignition. The key wouldn't fit in the ignition, so Nathan couldn't start the car. Almost the entire steering wheel column, the entire lock and door handle have to be replaced. It's going to be about a thousand dollars.
Nathan's very frustrated, because it's a big chunk out of his savings for our move. I'm really frustrated because I don't understand how people can be so low as to try and steal honest, hard-working people's cars.
At first we had kind of this "Why me?" mentality; we both kicked around the idea that maybe God was trying to tell us something specific, or that maybe he was punishing us. But my God is not one who deliberately punishes His children, as a parent would spank a child. My God is a father and a teacher; he knows what lessons are best for us to learn, and that sometimes we have to struggle and suffer for a while to get the point.
There's a really great bible verse I first heard when I was having a really rough time my senior year in college:
We rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. - Romans 5:3-5
Not to say that I'm jumping up and down celebrating that Nathan's car got broken into; I'm definitely not. It was a pretty big blow. If anything, though, the tougher times make me appreciate the easier times, and I know that once we make it back to Oregon, we'll appreciate all of God's blessings that much more because they were slightly difficult to come by for a while. Plus, the important thing is that the car wasn't stolen and nobody was hurt. In the long run, it's just a car. It's not even remotely as valuable as our lives and our health.
There are so many things we take for granted. When those things fall away, we realize what huge blessings they are.
On a happy note, we visited the Franklin Park Conservatory on Sunday after church. It was really wonderful to just be around so many beautiful plants and trees. Not to mention the fact that each room was temperature controlled to about sixty five degrees. THAT was awesome. :)
Monday, February 11, 2008
The Beginning of a Good Week
It's gonna be a good week. I can tell. Of course, I guess it always helps my attitude when I have Monday off.
Nathan and I watched Sunshine on Saturday night. It's directed by Danny Boyle, who did 28 Days Later. It didn't get very good reviews, and its US box office numbers weren't that great, but we thought it was really good. It was pretty awesome to watch on Nathan's big screen, too.
So it's the Season of Lent now, the 40 days before Easter. I'm kind of struggling with my Lenten journey this year, because I don't really have anything I feel I can give up (at least nothing I haven't given up before). I thought about giving something, but financially I'm really tight right now. Plus, I really feel like God is pointing me back to Oregon, so I'm really trying to save up for the transition.
Lent is also a difficult time to go church-hopping. So far we've found a lot of sermons and messages about stewardship and giving, and that always makes me feel a little weird. Nathan and I are hesitant to join a church right now, because we know we're moving in the next few months. We have one that we really like, and we'll probably start attending regularly; but I just can't bring myself to transfer membership from my church at home in Oregon. I think that's where God has His work for me. In the mean time, I'm just trying to leave my heart open to what He has to say.
The sun is out today, which is also nice. Winter is always easier to tolerate when the sun is shining. 50 mph wind gusts and single-digit wind chill make it a lot tougher. I was really close to taking out a hit on Punxsutawney Phil last weekend.
Fear less, hope more;
Whine less, breathe more;
Talk less, say more;
Hate less, love more;
And all good things are yours.
- Swedish proverb
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Boo Ohio.
It was 50 degrees yesterday.
Today it's 23. And very windy.
Boo. Hiss.
When all is said and done, the weather and love are the two elements about which one can never be sure.
- Alice Hoffman
Monday, January 28, 2008
Buff On Movies
Well, no Best Supporting Actor SAG award for Hal Holbrook. It was awfully hard to compete with Javier Bardem, though. He gave a very solid, chilling performance. And the Cohen brothers are brilliant.
Nathan and I saw There Will Be Blood last night. What a well-made movie! Daniel Day-Lewis is such a consistently awesome actor. After we see Michael Clayton, we'll have seen all five nominees for Best Picture. This is something I've wanted to do for a long time, but I've just always been too busy. We've seen a lot of really great movies, lately.
I just also have to say that I loved both National Treasure movies. Action flicks are my guilty pleasure.
I'm rather saddened by the fallout surrounding Heath Ledger's death. From numerous away messages, status updates, etc: "Heath Ledger died. So sad, he was so hot."
It's always frustrated me in my acting pursuit when I get asked the question "So, are you famous yet? When are we going to see you in movies/on Broadway/at the Oscars?" They mean well, but I have a real problem with the concept of celebrity. I never wanted that. Contrary to popular belief, "celebrity" is not synonymous with "successful". I think giving humans celebrity status dehumanizes them, in a way. They become icons; objects, in essence.
I don't perform because I want to be famous. I perform because I'm an artist with the ability to tell and share stories that can have an impact on people's lives, and that's what I love. I've put performing on hold for a while because I lost sight of that.
So it really upsets me that there are people who are not remembering Heath Ledger as an artist, a son, a brother and a father; it upsets me that there are people who are first and foremost remembering him as an icon, a celebrity or a piece of eye-candy.
Mmmkay. Getting off my soapbox now.
On a lighter note, it is a beautiful, little-bit-warmer morning outside.
A celebrity is a person who works hard all his life to become well-known, then wears dark glasses to avoid being recognized.
- Fred Allen
Friday, January 25, 2008
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
And remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
And listen to others,
Even the dull and the ignorant;
They too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
They are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
You may become vain and bitter;
For always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
It is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
For the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
Many persons strive for high ideals;
And everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
For in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
It is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
Gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
Be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
No less than the trees and the stars;
You have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
No doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
Whatever you conceive Him to be,
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
In the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
It is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
And remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
And listen to others,
Even the dull and the ignorant;
They too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
They are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
You may become vain and bitter;
For always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
It is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
For the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
Many persons strive for high ideals;
And everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
For in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
It is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
Gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
Be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
No less than the trees and the stars;
You have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
No doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
Whatever you conceive Him to be,
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
In the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
It is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Life Updates
I have no idea who reads this, but I feel the need to vent the recent happenings of my life into cyberspace for some reason.
Anyway, short story long, I've missed my families (church, friends, YPTP, mom and dad), my mountains and my beaches. Columbus has been a great safety net for me. I can't imagine my life without Otterbein or Ohio. I can honestly say that if I had ended up moving to New York at the end of college like I had originally planned, I would be unhappy today. And it would be even tougher to come to that realization now than it was last year.
I have a keen sense of blissful satisfaction that hasn't existed in my life before.
Nathan and I had the good fortune of listening to Ohio State president E. Gordon Gee preach a sermon at church on Sunday. He not only spoke of his spiritual journey, but also of his passion and hope for what we call "my generation". It was so refreshing and inspirational to listen to someone speak with such vigor about young people my age. I feel that the slice of "my generation" I belong to has this idea imposed upon them that life ends after college; that being an adult is boring. There's no more frat parties, less-frequent club-hopping, no more "Pimps and Hoes" theme parties, etc. I personally feel that this is the most exciting time in my life. I'm supporting myself, making plans for the future and concretely dreaming of the life that I want. It makes me really sad when I find people saying "I wish I were still in college", or worse yet, "I wish I were still in high school." It seems like a lot of people get caught up in this mentality, and I think it ultimately leads to unhappiness later in life.
So I guess Sunday was a bit of a pat on the back from God, reminding me that I'm in a good place right now; with the word "good" being a serious understatement. :)
Still lovin' the Starb, although it's been kind of tough lately with the weather and continued post-holiday rush. I'm really fortunate, though, to work with such awesome people.
So, that's my life right now, pretty much.
Nathan and I have so far seen Juno and Atonement. We might go see There Will Be Blood this weekend. Dann from work tells me it's amazing, but I guess that's kind of a given because obviously it was a good enough script for Daniel Day-Lewis to come out of his retirement/hermitage. I'm really excited Hal Holbrook was nominated for his role in Into The Wild. Definitely the most underrated film of the year, in my opinion.
For sure, you have to be lost to find a place that can't be found; else wise, everyone would know where it was.
- Hector Barbossa
*Post Script: I'd just like to reiterate the amazingness of my boyfriend, Nathan. :)
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