I have a newsflash for you. You're not better than me.
Your level of education is not equal to your level of intelligence. How far and how well you do in school does not always equal how successful you are in life (see Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Walt Disney, Charles Dickens...). It doesn't take a Ph.D, a Masters or even a Bachelor's degree to be a visionary. At the end of the day, guess what? We're all the same.
I graduated valedictorian from high school with an impressive transcript full of advanced courses. I received over a half-ride for my college education based on not only my grades but also my talent. I graduated Magna Cum Laude from a highly accredited private university. I chose to work at a coffee shop.
This particular job provides me with health insurance, which my other two (yes, that's a total of three) jobs are unable to provide. My other jobs provide with joy and a tangible sensation of my imprint on humanity. I work in the service of God. I work in the service of youth. I work in the service of theatre, music and art. And I also happen to work in food service. Make no mistake - I chose this.
I don't know what kind of trauma happened to you to give you the ability to rationalize your cruelty and disdain for others. Maybe it was a big trauma. Maybe it was a little trauma. But clearly you haven't dealt with it, and that serves no one. Especially you, and certainly not others. It would seem, though, that you care not for the service of others; perhaps you have the misfortune of caring only for yourself. I am sorry that it happened to you, whatever it was or is, but it is not an excuse to treat someone the way I saw you treat my co-worker today.
I am proud of what I do. I love what I do. I don't want to serve coffee for the rest of my life, but for now, it is a means to an end. I live for the few moments in between slinging lattes that I can make a difference in someone's day.
I pray that one day you will be able to open your heart and realize your potential to be a light in the lives of others instead of cruising through life as a candle snuffer.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Been a while...
Oh hey, blog! How are you? How've you been? You look kinda pissed that I haven't been around...yeah, sorry about that...
Long story short, Nathan and I got married. Nathan joined the United States Army. (His test scores were off the charts. You need at least 110 in each area to be considered "really good". He got 115 in one area and between 125 and 130 in all the other areas. Landed a job in military intelligence. Super cool.) I got another job at the church where I grew up working with the youth program. Love it. Six weeks into training, Nathan freakishly broke his leg on a two-mile run with his unit. (We think it was from the crappy shoes they gave him. One of his physical therapists supported that theory. How much money are we spending in Iraq?) He had to have major surgery. He has a steel rod in his leg now and has had some bad knee issues. He was given an honorable medical discharge...after nine months...when it should've taken five. Needless to say, it was the most frustrating experience of both of our lives.
BUT...it brought us closer together and has made us appreciate each other so much more.
So, that's kind of why I've been neglecting you, blog. Please forgive me? I'll try and update more frequently. I can't make any promises, though. Two jobs and being a newlywed (for the second year in a row) has me very busy.
God. Is. Good.
Long story short, Nathan and I got married. Nathan joined the United States Army. (His test scores were off the charts. You need at least 110 in each area to be considered "really good". He got 115 in one area and between 125 and 130 in all the other areas. Landed a job in military intelligence. Super cool.) I got another job at the church where I grew up working with the youth program. Love it. Six weeks into training, Nathan freakishly broke his leg on a two-mile run with his unit. (We think it was from the crappy shoes they gave him. One of his physical therapists supported that theory. How much money are we spending in Iraq?) He had to have major surgery. He has a steel rod in his leg now and has had some bad knee issues. He was given an honorable medical discharge...after nine months...when it should've taken five. Needless to say, it was the most frustrating experience of both of our lives.
BUT...it brought us closer together and has made us appreciate each other so much more.
So, that's kind of why I've been neglecting you, blog. Please forgive me? I'll try and update more frequently. I can't make any promises, though. Two jobs and being a newlywed (for the second year in a row) has me very busy.
God. Is. Good.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Awareness
I posted this as a note on Facebook the other day. I thought I would cross-post.
Awareness
I guess I’m a bit concerned by the “Bra-Color Facebook Status” breast cancer awareness campaign. (Plus, I’m kind of creeped out at the idea of giving all 695 of my Facebook friends the opportunity to think about my boobs.)
So here’s why I’m concerned:
In 2007, a group of my Theta Nu sisters participated in the Race for the Cure in Columbus. We were honoring our sister Ellen’s mom, Joy who was re-diagnosed with breast cancer in February that year. The most memorable image I have of that day was turning the corner onto High Street and seeing this ocean of pink and white walking in front of us. There were thousands of people in front of us. I remember being overwhelmed; overwhelmed with awe by how many people had banded together for this one cause, and overwhelmed with sorrow that so many people have been impacted by the disease. That moment is forever imprinted on my heart and in my mind.
In 2009, an estimated 194,280 new cases of breast cancer were documented. (1,910 of those estimated cases were men, so I find it rather bothersome that we’re focusing on bra color.) An estimated 40,610 souls lost their lives to breast cancer last year. So that’s a total of 234,890 people estimated to have been directly affected by breast cancer. That’s a little less than the total population of St. Petersburg, FL, so it’s basically an entire city. And these are estimated new cases and deaths from just last year. That’s not including the people who have passed on or are still battling the disease diagnosed in years prior.
Anyone who has been close to someone with any serious illness can tell you that the disease doesn’t just affect the individual; it affects their entire community. And by "community", I don't mean locale; I mean the people they are connected to. Each of those 234,890 people has a mother. They have fathers. They have friends. They have children. They have co-workers. They have neighbors. They are your pastor. They are your teacher. They are your coach. They are your sorority sister. They are the nice person who works at the grocery store who always goes out their way to ask you how your day has been.
It’s you. You are affected. Whether you have breast cancer or not, chances are you know someone who has it currently or has had it in the past.
So get educated. Do you know how old you need to be when you need to start getting a mammogram? Do you know the risk factors and warning signs? Do you know how to look for a lump in your breast? Did you think about these questions as you were typing the color of your bra in your status box? Did you take a moment to honor someone you know who’s no longer here because of breast cancer? If you didn’t, please do so right now.
Awareness is about knowing the facts. You must be educated. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a guy or a girl. Get educated. Breast cancer is so much bigger than what color bra I’m wearing.
I don’t write this to be snarky or self-righteous; there’s nothing wrong with the trend; in fact, I love that Facebook gives the opportunity for a great idea developed by a small group of individuals to be accessed by millions of people. I write this because I have been blessed with a fantastic community of people I love, and I know too many people in that community who have been affected in one way or another. So please make sure the movement accomplishes what it intended, and goes beyond being just a popular trend. This isn’t the “25 Things About Me” survey. This is real.
We have to beat this.
So here are your resources. These links are where some of my numbers came from:
www.komen.org
www.cancer.org
You’ve read my note. You have no excuse. Go get the facts.
Besides, if you want to know what color bra I’m wearing, you at least have to buy me dinner first.
That was a joke. ;)
Awareness
I guess I’m a bit concerned by the “Bra-Color Facebook Status” breast cancer awareness campaign. (Plus, I’m kind of creeped out at the idea of giving all 695 of my Facebook friends the opportunity to think about my boobs.)
So here’s why I’m concerned:
In 2007, a group of my Theta Nu sisters participated in the Race for the Cure in Columbus. We were honoring our sister Ellen’s mom, Joy who was re-diagnosed with breast cancer in February that year. The most memorable image I have of that day was turning the corner onto High Street and seeing this ocean of pink and white walking in front of us. There were thousands of people in front of us. I remember being overwhelmed; overwhelmed with awe by how many people had banded together for this one cause, and overwhelmed with sorrow that so many people have been impacted by the disease. That moment is forever imprinted on my heart and in my mind.In 2009, an estimated 194,280 new cases of breast cancer were documented. (1,910 of those estimated cases were men, so I find it rather bothersome that we’re focusing on bra color.) An estimated 40,610 souls lost their lives to breast cancer last year. So that’s a total of 234,890 people estimated to have been directly affected by breast cancer. That’s a little less than the total population of St. Petersburg, FL, so it’s basically an entire city. And these are estimated new cases and deaths from just last year. That’s not including the people who have passed on or are still battling the disease diagnosed in years prior.
Anyone who has been close to someone with any serious illness can tell you that the disease doesn’t just affect the individual; it affects their entire community. And by "community", I don't mean locale; I mean the people they are connected to. Each of those 234,890 people has a mother. They have fathers. They have friends. They have children. They have co-workers. They have neighbors. They are your pastor. They are your teacher. They are your coach. They are your sorority sister. They are the nice person who works at the grocery store who always goes out their way to ask you how your day has been.
It’s you. You are affected. Whether you have breast cancer or not, chances are you know someone who has it currently or has had it in the past.
So get educated. Do you know how old you need to be when you need to start getting a mammogram? Do you know the risk factors and warning signs? Do you know how to look for a lump in your breast? Did you think about these questions as you were typing the color of your bra in your status box? Did you take a moment to honor someone you know who’s no longer here because of breast cancer? If you didn’t, please do so right now.
Awareness is about knowing the facts. You must be educated. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a guy or a girl. Get educated. Breast cancer is so much bigger than what color bra I’m wearing.
I don’t write this to be snarky or self-righteous; there’s nothing wrong with the trend; in fact, I love that Facebook gives the opportunity for a great idea developed by a small group of individuals to be accessed by millions of people. I write this because I have been blessed with a fantastic community of people I love, and I know too many people in that community who have been affected in one way or another. So please make sure the movement accomplishes what it intended, and goes beyond being just a popular trend. This isn’t the “25 Things About Me” survey. This is real.
We have to beat this.
So here are your resources. These links are where some of my numbers came from:
www.komen.org
www.cancer.org
You’ve read my note. You have no excuse. Go get the facts.
Besides, if you want to know what color bra I’m wearing, you at least have to buy me dinner first.
That was a joke. ;)
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Peculiar Passing Moments
Today I feel better about things.
Inspiration and encouragement come from the most unexpected and wonderful places. I recently had my hair cut by a wonderful gal at a salon in Beaverton. She recently moved here from Texas. The subject came up that I had been laid off. She shared a story with me about how she had been unexpectedly let go from a job once too, but that it opened a door to a better career. "I know it's hard, but don't worry. I can tell you're a smart girl", she said. "Something better will turn up." She was my angel that day. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I was so thankful that she said it!
One of my "other mothers" was my angel the other day. Her husband is extraordinary and hard-working. She told me that he has been laid off three times in his life. I was so surprised. But I was very relieved; I realized that it just happens. But it happens for a reason.
I've set the wheels in motion to apply for grad school in January. Oregon State has a one-year immersion program where I could get my teaching license and my M.A.T. I'm leaning towards ECE/Elementary Education to start out with. I'd like to be licensed through 12th grade eventually.
I think I get it. I'm supposed to be somewhere I can make a difference.
Inspiration and encouragement come from the most unexpected and wonderful places. I recently had my hair cut by a wonderful gal at a salon in Beaverton. She recently moved here from Texas. The subject came up that I had been laid off. She shared a story with me about how she had been unexpectedly let go from a job once too, but that it opened a door to a better career. "I know it's hard, but don't worry. I can tell you're a smart girl", she said. "Something better will turn up." She was my angel that day. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I was so thankful that she said it!
One of my "other mothers" was my angel the other day. Her husband is extraordinary and hard-working. She told me that he has been laid off three times in his life. I was so surprised. But I was very relieved; I realized that it just happens. But it happens for a reason.
I've set the wheels in motion to apply for grad school in January. Oregon State has a one-year immersion program where I could get my teaching license and my M.A.T. I'm leaning towards ECE/Elementary Education to start out with. I'd like to be licensed through 12th grade eventually.
I think I get it. I'm supposed to be somewhere I can make a difference.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Soap Box
The following is an expression of frustration regarding several issues and/or behaviors I have noticed lately in various contexts.
The first: women/men who use words like "skank", "hoe" and "bitch" as terms of endearment. I think it's a huge step backwards in our overall cultural development. I went to my church's senior luncheon on Wednesday and had an interesting conversation with a delightful lady about etiquette and how it doesn't really exist anymore. I'm not saying we need to revert back to 1910 and hold our pinkies in the air when we drink coffee and tea; but I think there is a definite lack of respect in general between individuals in our society. Swearing in public in front of strangers is rude. I think calling your best friend a "whore" and then following it with "Love you!!!" contributes to her lack of self-esteem. That kind of sarcasm irks me; I see it creating a negative energy that is ultimately destructive.
Second issue: Oregon's weather. It's f-ing cold. Seriously.
Issue the third: women who hold onto past relationships. Let it go. It's over. Grieve and mourn, and then move on. Don't text him. Don't write on his wall. Don't meet him for happy hour. Be amicable; but you can't be friends. Everything happens for a reason, and there's a reason it's over. (The preceding is completely the opinion of the author and does not apply in all situations. But most of the time, it does.)
I'm not really sure where all that came from. It popped into my head earlier today and thought I would vent it into cyberspace so it wouldn't clog up my imagination. Some of it is probably due to the fact that I am under the weather. I have a raging headache right now.
Some of it also may come from the frustration stemming from the fact that I was laid off last week.
I put 110% of myself into my work. It was pretty crushing.
Ok. New soap box:
Primary issue: don't let your job define your self-worth. In fact, don't let anyone but yourself define your self-worth. There will be many opportunities in life, and none of them will last forever. Everything happens for a reason. God shuts the doors and opens windows. He has plans for you that are greater than you can possibly imagine. Have faith. And keep looking up.
Always good to end on a positive note.
Off I scamper to claim my unemployment benefits for this week.
What he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open. I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name.
- Revelation 3:7-8
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Breaking Rules
When I was 17, I made a rule for myself: I would not get married before I turned 30. I was fiercely dedicated to the idea that I would move to New York and have a booming acting career, and I wasn't going to let a man get in the way of that.
It's so funny, these plans and rules we make; I'm sure God just sits back, shakes his head and chuckles.
On September 6th, Nathan asked me to marry him at the Heceta Head lighthouse overlooking the Pacific ocean. It was the most perfect moment of my life. And now I'm having tons of fun planning my wedding. We have our venue booked and I'm currently going back and forth between two breathtaking Maggie Sottero dresses. We're getting married on August 8, 2010. We want to honeymoon in either Hawaii or Costa Rica. (Hawaii is winning right now.) I feel so much more complete, like part of me was missing before.
In August, I quit my job at Netflix. I remember writing about how I once promised myself I would never work in a call center. I realize now why that was true. It was so mundane. All those stupid statistics that determined how well I was doing...they had no meaning whatsoever. It was a difficult decision; I'm not a quitter. But I was stifled.
God had other plans. A week before my last day, I filled out an application online (one of many) for a job at a graphic design and print shop in downtown Portland. The same day I filled out the application, I had a phone call from the owner asking for an interview. That was Wednesday. Friday I had my interview, where she offered me the job on the spot. I started a week later.
It's a great job. I'm learning so much. I feel appreciated. We're working on really great projects for prominent businesses in Portland. Last week, I was in charge a marketing booklet that we shipped to the VP of Yahoo. It's awesome. Not to mention, I know where I'm getting my wedding invitations done. :)
I've been taking class with my dad at Tony Starlight's in the Hollywood District. We've been singing and performing together. It's one of the coolest things I've ever done. I love listening to my dad sing, and I love that I'm singing and performing again. If I had moved to New York, I wouldn't be able to do this with my dad. I'm really glad I stayed in Ohio and then moved home.
Nathan started classes last week at Portland State University. He's getting his degree in Mechanical Engineering, something he's wanted to do for a while. He's achieved perfect scores on all of his assignments so far. I'm so proud of him.
The summer was full of tough decisions and challenges; autumn has brought so many new and exciting changes. We couldn't get to autumn without going through summer. I am thankful to God for those trials, because ultimately they reaped so many blessings.
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.
~ Psalm 46:1-3
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Flexibility
My goal lately is to adapt. Overall. In general.
We can't control what happens to us. We can control how we handle the situation. We can adjust our attitude.
I have a bad attitude about things sometimes. I get wrapped up in "why is this happening to me" and "this isn't fair". It's something of which I'm now very aware. So I have a choice: wallow in my maladjusted 'tude or change my perspective. I choose the latter.
Subsequently, my normally sky-high stress level has plummeted. It might just be the best feeling in the world.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Dear God,
Please let tomorrow bring good things. And if for whatever reason it doesn't, please give the strength to deal with those things gracefully. Help me to remember that you have my best interests in mind.
These past few weeks have been very trying. I am very tired. And I know you know that. In some respects, I'm proud of the way I've handled things; in others, though, I'm not. At this point there's not much need for me to go into detail, because you already know everything. I guess I'm sorry for my attitude. I'm sorry I let worry and fear fog up the path you've laid ahead of me. And I'm sorry I keep asking you for the map. I guess I just feel like I need to see it, even though I know I don't.
I'm so thankful for the blessings you've given me. I don't say that often enough. And I'm thankful for the the trials and tribulations. Even though they suck hardcore, I know you have a purpose for them; and I know that I will be stronger having lived through them.
Thank you for my friends and family, and thank you that I am loved by such an extraordinary man.
And thank you for semicolons; they are my favorite punctuation mark.
Most sincerely and with all the love in my heart,
Me.
The thing is to rely on God. The time will come when you will regard all this misery as a small price to pay for having been brought to that dependence. Meanwhile, the trouble is that relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing has yet been done.
- C.S. Lewis
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Once again, dear blog, I have neglected thee. Forgive me, won't you?
Life has been crazy. I put in a lot of overtime in January and February. It was grueling. God has a purpose for everything, though. As exhausting as it was, it gave me the funds to purchase a new car two weeks ago.
Speaking of God, He has a funny way of weaving blessings into disasters.
On April 1st, Nathan and I woke up and proceeded to partake in our Wednesday morning ritual: breakfast at Shari's/IHOP/Elmer's/whatever tickles our fancy. I stepped outside and noticed my car was absent from it's parking space. Twenty minutes later, I had filed a police report and was on the phone with my insurance company filing a claim, having driven around the parking lot of my apartment complex and drilling the front office folks if any cars had been towed from the lot the night before (none had). The Beaverton police officer who filed the stolen vehicle report for my 1991 Toyta Camry educated me on the finer points of car theft, i.e. that the 1991 Toyta Camry is a popular car in the "stolen" category because it's easy to break into and start with a "jiggle key" (a key that's been filed down, making it easy to trigger the tumbler inside the locking mechanism and the ignition). She also mentioned that older Toyota Camrys are the most commonly stolen vehicles reported in the state of Oregon. Awesome.
This was turning into a lousy April Fool's prank.
At 1:45 the following morning, I received a phone call from the Beaverton Police dispatch service. They had found my car in the parking lot of the Shari's Restaurant kitty-corner from Sunset High School. It wouldn't start. I had to come inspect it before they could take it out of the stolen vehicle registry. So Nathan and I drove to North Beaverton. The car wouldn't start, but it looked okay. Upon further inspection I discovered that the culprits had stolen two of my jackets, several blankets and my Netflix travel mug. The jackets weren't so important, but I was livid over my stolen travel mug. The owner's manual had been removed from the glove compartment and thrown into my lunch bag from the previous work day. There were no auto body shops open to have my car towed to, so we headed back home. I slept for two more hours before I had to head into work.
After working a few hours of my shift, I headed back to my little car to have it towed and inspected. The thief had worn the breaks down to the metal and had sliced the CV boots, making my car very unsafe to drive. It was becoming very clear that I wouldn't be able to rely on my little Camry for much longer.
I'd been planning on purchasing a new car since Nathan and I moved back to Oregon. Basically, the theft of my Camry just expedited the process. Going back to God, I realized that had I not been forced to put in all that overtime December through February, I wouldn't have had the money as quickly as I did to put a down payment on the 2003 Subaru Forester now parked outside my apartment. And the whole experience, while incredibly disturbing, made me appreciate all the things I take for granted. I used to complain about how crappy my old car was when I should've just been happy to have a car period. It was definitely a spiritual teachable moment.
In other news, I am elated that spring is finally here! Megan and I visited the Wooden Shoe Farm Tulip Festival, went wine tasting in Aurora and then hit up the outlet stores in Woodburn for some hardcore bargain shopping. Nathan and I are planning a trip to Vegas, so I bought some cute outfits for our vacation next month.
I'm also teaching a Shakespeare class to some middle schoolers through a non-profit community theatre group. It would actually be more appropriate to say that they're teaching me; they're incredibly bright and grasping all the concepts and lesson plans that I've thrown at them. I wish all tweens were as smart as they are! It's been incredibly fulfilling.
Time to settle down for a cozy Saturday evening at home.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Dear Blog
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
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, 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
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