I would like to give you a picture of my life last year: Desert like. Not much water...enough to live, but not enough to ever feel quenched. Also, I was alone in the desert. If there was a bobcat or rattle snake to attack me in the middle of the night, there would have been no one around to notice or chop off the rattle snakes head. And it was fittingly hot all of the time...Seasons? No siree. There were poeple flying overhead dropping aid (packaged food, bandaids, matches, etc.) in the form of movies, books, and co-workers, but they mostly just flew overhead, rarely stopping to share one of those packaged meals with me.
The funny thing is that now that I am where I am, the idea of seasons has taken on an entirely new meaning. Not only am I experiencing the freaking hottest saoson the great state of Oklahoma has, my life is also singing loudly the cliche that I have always heard that there are seasons of life, and that when you are in the midst of them, good or bad, you tend to think that's how things will be. But then something happens, and a new season is upon you, and you realize the world is not out to get you and things change, and get better. You still remember that the desert was hard to endure, but had a purpose, and you don't feel any animosity for the desert, rather, you're just thankful to have stumbled back into civilization, where there is grass and trees and streams that flow, and fall leaves just around the corner. And you try to remind yourself to be really thankful, because there will probably be another desert-like season somewhere in your future, and you want to have saved up enough water to help get you through it...
So civilization? It's great. I was driving to a friends house last night to watch Last King of Scotland. I have seen it twice already, but the ladies I was watching it with hadn't, and their company was well worth the drive. I was remembering the desert on my way there, and I was feeling thankful, while listening to Interpol, a band turned on to me by Michael, my saxophone playing philosophy majoring friend who just left to go back to school in Chicago. I wish I could explain in words on the screen how great Michael is, but it would be a useless effort, and hopefully that says enough.
On my way home, I stopped by Starbucks to get a hot tea and because I knew Chris was working and I hadn't seen her in too many days. She is not just a friend, but a kindred spirit and we feel like we have known eachother much longer than we have. She had a bad day, to put it mildly. She is getting married in October. They have been planning on having their wedding at a friend's ranch (in approximately a month) and the friends are turning out to be snakes walking around with human bodies. Now the day that's supposed to be her happiest has a dark cloud hovering over, and is engulfed in stress, disappointment, a little more stress, and anger. And so I was glad I stopped by, to listen, and give her a hug. Tomorrow evening I am going to have birthday picnic with Amy...her birthday was on Sunday, and so we are going to have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the park to celebrate.
Speaking of Sunday, that was the evening of my life group. I meet at Matt and Amy's house every other Sunday night with a lovely mix of people. There is Matt, the man of the house (ha) who has some kind of great design job. He facilitates. Amy is his wife, and she is creative, and a great decorator, and a kind, giving soul. Then there is Tonya, the artist, who is dating Ken, the big kid with a great laugh and a great heart. Mary is the one who brought me to the group. We work together at Starbucks, and will hopefully be roommates soon. She is great. Giving. Caring. Thoughtful. Fun. Then there is John, and his roommate Nick. Equally great and equally different. John values critical thought, Nick isn't sure what critical thought amounts to, but knows that whatever it was, it was fun. George is in a category of his own. He owns a kayak and likes to fish and likes beer and The Big Lebowski. And every other Sunday, I get to spend a few hours with these people, discussing Christianity, movies, and life, and laughing until my cheeks hurt.
I am not writing this just to give out my weekly schedule or so that the world knows whether or not my calender is full...but to say that right now, I have definitely stepped out of the desert, and here in the valley, life is rich.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
shifty shifts
Chris and I have a plan to run together once a week. We look at our schedules, pick a time when we are both off, and plan to meet. We usually try to do it in the morning, but last week we didn’t have any mornings available, so we planned to do it after one of my afternoon shifts.
The shift was a little overwhelming. I was the shift on duty, and there were too many partners there asking me questions at the same time while I was in the process of training one of our new partners on the bar. This consisted of me trying to explain to Patrick, our brand new high school graduate, that there is one less pump of syrup in a caramel macchiato than there is in a caramel latte, and that it is actually vanilla syrup in a caramel macchiato instead of caramel syrup, and how many shots are in a latte and that there is an extra pump and shot in the venti iced but that’s the only one…all this in the midst of making these drinks for the seven people in line and funneling questions as they come…from every where…while standing on my feet for a full eight hours. I am not complaining (in case that’s what it sounds like). It was actually kind of fun. It’s just that when I sat down in Chris’ car after having changed my clothes to work-out appropriate attire, I let out a big sigh, and she detected from my sigh and the look on my face that the last thing I wanted to do was run. It was also sickeningly sticky muggy hot. She didn’t want to run either. So she suggested we go get ice cream. I didn’t contest. The next thirty or so minutes consisted of us driving around looking at beautiful old homes, Chris in the drivers seat enjoying her mint chocolate chip on a cake cone, me gobbling down my cookies and cream in a cup. Thank you Braum’s for a surprisingly sweetly cool afternoon.
Speaking of overwhelming shifts, I picked one up at a store today in Bixby. They needed a shift manager and I was off and I needed the hours. The only problem is that it is a drive thru store, and I was the shift on duty, and I have absolutely no drive thru experience. I work at a café store. We have no headsets. We have one of everything…one frappuccino station, one bar, one ice bin…we don’t have seven of everything. We do not talk to people unless we are standing in front of their face…and I like it that way. It’s simple and inviting and cozy and personal. We are convenient, don’t get me wrong. For better or worse, that is a key component of Starbucks. But convenience isn’t the only reason people come to our store. Our customers are willing to give a little more. They are willing to park their car and actually walk in, even if it’s raining outside. They have not given up on personal service, in the same way that I refuse to use the self check out lane at Albertsons. I would rather have a crabby check-out girl ring me up for something twice than listen to a computer tell me what to do. And then tell me to undo whatever I did that it just finished telling me to do. It’s infuriating, and I would take being furious at a human over a machine any day. The drive-thru was chaotic and confusing, and I am glad that when I open our store tomorrow morning, there will be no sliding windows to open, no headset waiting to adorn my head upon arrival.
The shift was a little overwhelming. I was the shift on duty, and there were too many partners there asking me questions at the same time while I was in the process of training one of our new partners on the bar. This consisted of me trying to explain to Patrick, our brand new high school graduate, that there is one less pump of syrup in a caramel macchiato than there is in a caramel latte, and that it is actually vanilla syrup in a caramel macchiato instead of caramel syrup, and how many shots are in a latte and that there is an extra pump and shot in the venti iced but that’s the only one…all this in the midst of making these drinks for the seven people in line and funneling questions as they come…from every where…while standing on my feet for a full eight hours. I am not complaining (in case that’s what it sounds like). It was actually kind of fun. It’s just that when I sat down in Chris’ car after having changed my clothes to work-out appropriate attire, I let out a big sigh, and she detected from my sigh and the look on my face that the last thing I wanted to do was run. It was also sickeningly sticky muggy hot. She didn’t want to run either. So she suggested we go get ice cream. I didn’t contest. The next thirty or so minutes consisted of us driving around looking at beautiful old homes, Chris in the drivers seat enjoying her mint chocolate chip on a cake cone, me gobbling down my cookies and cream in a cup. Thank you Braum’s for a surprisingly sweetly cool afternoon.
Speaking of overwhelming shifts, I picked one up at a store today in Bixby. They needed a shift manager and I was off and I needed the hours. The only problem is that it is a drive thru store, and I was the shift on duty, and I have absolutely no drive thru experience. I work at a café store. We have no headsets. We have one of everything…one frappuccino station, one bar, one ice bin…we don’t have seven of everything. We do not talk to people unless we are standing in front of their face…and I like it that way. It’s simple and inviting and cozy and personal. We are convenient, don’t get me wrong. For better or worse, that is a key component of Starbucks. But convenience isn’t the only reason people come to our store. Our customers are willing to give a little more. They are willing to park their car and actually walk in, even if it’s raining outside. They have not given up on personal service, in the same way that I refuse to use the self check out lane at Albertsons. I would rather have a crabby check-out girl ring me up for something twice than listen to a computer tell me what to do. And then tell me to undo whatever I did that it just finished telling me to do. It’s infuriating, and I would take being furious at a human over a machine any day. The drive-thru was chaotic and confusing, and I am glad that when I open our store tomorrow morning, there will be no sliding windows to open, no headset waiting to adorn my head upon arrival.
Monday, June 4, 2007
patchiness
I am sitting here thinking about the orange I was eating. It was very robust…strong, even. I peeled it and started to dig in. At first glance I saw some dryness. A fraction of the slice ends were a little juiceless. But the rest was actually very good. I was sitting here staring at the remnants of peel on my leg, and the inedible part of the orange lying on top of the peelings, and thinking that if I was telling someone about my orange, I had sufficient evidence to say it really was a bit of a disappointment. One of the very first pieces I bit into was flavorless. I could have just trashed the rest of the orange after that first bite, assuming it was all the same. But I realized that my interpretation of the orange didn’t have to be like that. I could instead focus on the good of mr. navel…the pieces I had that were so cold and sweet and juicy, and let those pieces determine the outline of my morning orange experience. And it made me think of life and the way I interpret events that happen…how so often I want to look up and say to God, “why.” And so often I do look up and ask him why a good chunk of my orange was bad…why could it have all been cold and sweet and juicy…why did my first bite have to be bitter…Instead of thanking him for the fantastic orange, for the parts that that were pretty delicious, and also for the parts that weren’t, because they helped me appreciate the delicious parts that much more. Now my hands smell of orange citrus fruit and I am thankful.
I have been thinking a lot lately about the idea if purposeful things happening in our lives that prepare us for something else. There was a period of time where questioned God’s care, and whether or not he led us to places He intended us to be, or if that’s something we just tell ourselves so that we have some kind of security in the decisions we make. I have since came to the conclusion that He does lead us, and gives us situations to handle for a reason, because He knows our hearts and our strengths and our weaknesses and what we can handle. A few examples:
Pam’s sister is pregnant. She is due in two weeks. I saw her this weekend and asked if she was able to sleep at night. She said no. It makes sense, knowing that there is a child curled up in a fetal position pushing around all of her vital organs, namely the bladder. I would think that a pregnant woman feels ugh enough during the day that a good nights rest is pretty essential. But God knows that in a few weeks she will have this little person screaming at her in the middle of the night, and that it will be a while before she sleeps well again. Most of the women I have talked to that have had children say that was nearly impossible for them to sleep during the last month plus of their pregnancy. It makes me wonder if that was God’s way of preparing them for the sleepless nights that they are about to face.
Turtles. I have passed so many turtles on the country roads around where I live. I am sorry to say that the other day I actually ran over one. I wish his shell was indestructible. Is wasn’t. But…it got me thinking about what God was thinking about when he made turtles, and my theory is that in the beginning, he was having some fun with how they would walk. He could have given them legs like a dog, so that they could run fast, or like a cat, so they could climb trees. But he didn’t. He gave them legs that would enable them to get from point A to point B…but very very slowly. After He made the legs, I envision him laughing some, and thinking to Himself how cool they look. And then reality sets in and He realizes how slow they will have to go, and that this puts them in harms way more than other animals. He probably thought for a while about how to change the turtle’s legs without messing with the essence of their coolness. And then it hit Him! A shell! And so I like to think that God meant for them to have shells because they couldn’t run fast or climb up trees and He wanted to protect them.
Me. I am learning to silence my inner critic, so let me know if I am out of my mind. But I have been thinking lately about how blessed I am with friendships. I truly believe that there are people that go through their life without experiencing what true friendship is about, and I am blessed to have experienced it many times over, to be experiencing many times over. The other thing is that many of these friends came into my life through no real effort of my own. I didn’t take out an ad in a newspaper, or sit on a bench that I knew a lot of people would walk by. I was just making decisions and living life, and they were there. For some reason, God decided to bless me in this way. And the doom and gloom in me has just been thinking a tiny little bit that in His infinite wisdom, he knows that I will never find a life long love, and that I more than other people will need wonderful friendships to help sustain my soul, kind of like my own little turtle shell or sleepless pregnant nights.
The upside of this is that most times when I start to jump ahead of God and plan what He is thinking, and kind of try to conjure up my own version of infinite wisdom, I am wrong. It’s just something I have been thinking.
Ideally, I will someday marry and will also maintain these friendships and there won’t be a trade off. Ideally. But either way, I see how He is taking care of me, even when I don’t feel it, and that riding His wave is much more fun than making my own. I feel all yucky when I start to manipulate my life. That doesn’t mean some things aren’t in my hands. If I don’t eat, for example, I will starve. But His ideas are usually much better than mine, and when I intentionally ignore them for what I think would probably be better, it ends up being worse, and my soul feels all shaken up.
I don’t really know how to end this post because is feels a little patchy, so I will end it by saying it feels a little patchy.
I have been thinking a lot lately about the idea if purposeful things happening in our lives that prepare us for something else. There was a period of time where questioned God’s care, and whether or not he led us to places He intended us to be, or if that’s something we just tell ourselves so that we have some kind of security in the decisions we make. I have since came to the conclusion that He does lead us, and gives us situations to handle for a reason, because He knows our hearts and our strengths and our weaknesses and what we can handle. A few examples:
Pam’s sister is pregnant. She is due in two weeks. I saw her this weekend and asked if she was able to sleep at night. She said no. It makes sense, knowing that there is a child curled up in a fetal position pushing around all of her vital organs, namely the bladder. I would think that a pregnant woman feels ugh enough during the day that a good nights rest is pretty essential. But God knows that in a few weeks she will have this little person screaming at her in the middle of the night, and that it will be a while before she sleeps well again. Most of the women I have talked to that have had children say that was nearly impossible for them to sleep during the last month plus of their pregnancy. It makes me wonder if that was God’s way of preparing them for the sleepless nights that they are about to face.
Turtles. I have passed so many turtles on the country roads around where I live. I am sorry to say that the other day I actually ran over one. I wish his shell was indestructible. Is wasn’t. But…it got me thinking about what God was thinking about when he made turtles, and my theory is that in the beginning, he was having some fun with how they would walk. He could have given them legs like a dog, so that they could run fast, or like a cat, so they could climb trees. But he didn’t. He gave them legs that would enable them to get from point A to point B…but very very slowly. After He made the legs, I envision him laughing some, and thinking to Himself how cool they look. And then reality sets in and He realizes how slow they will have to go, and that this puts them in harms way more than other animals. He probably thought for a while about how to change the turtle’s legs without messing with the essence of their coolness. And then it hit Him! A shell! And so I like to think that God meant for them to have shells because they couldn’t run fast or climb up trees and He wanted to protect them.
Me. I am learning to silence my inner critic, so let me know if I am out of my mind. But I have been thinking lately about how blessed I am with friendships. I truly believe that there are people that go through their life without experiencing what true friendship is about, and I am blessed to have experienced it many times over, to be experiencing many times over. The other thing is that many of these friends came into my life through no real effort of my own. I didn’t take out an ad in a newspaper, or sit on a bench that I knew a lot of people would walk by. I was just making decisions and living life, and they were there. For some reason, God decided to bless me in this way. And the doom and gloom in me has just been thinking a tiny little bit that in His infinite wisdom, he knows that I will never find a life long love, and that I more than other people will need wonderful friendships to help sustain my soul, kind of like my own little turtle shell or sleepless pregnant nights.
The upside of this is that most times when I start to jump ahead of God and plan what He is thinking, and kind of try to conjure up my own version of infinite wisdom, I am wrong. It’s just something I have been thinking.
Ideally, I will someday marry and will also maintain these friendships and there won’t be a trade off. Ideally. But either way, I see how He is taking care of me, even when I don’t feel it, and that riding His wave is much more fun than making my own. I feel all yucky when I start to manipulate my life. That doesn’t mean some things aren’t in my hands. If I don’t eat, for example, I will starve. But His ideas are usually much better than mine, and when I intentionally ignore them for what I think would probably be better, it ends up being worse, and my soul feels all shaken up.
I don’t really know how to end this post because is feels a little patchy, so I will end it by saying it feels a little patchy.
Monday, May 21, 2007
slapdash
I have been looking for somewhere to live online. I don't like this whole rent thing. Why is it that we have to pay a lot of money in order to feel somewhat safe? I could live pretty cheap if I wanted to get mugged each night at the end of the day. Or I could pay a lot for rent and not eat. I am out of money either way. I hate that we are allowed as feeble fallen human beings to put a price tag on safety and beauty.
Rudi Julliani is on David Letterman right now. I don't think he is qualified to be our president or vice-president of the United States of America. And then I realized, from our current situation, Americans' these days don't put much consideration into whether or not a man in qualified to hold the position. I nominate Ashton Kutcher for President 2008. I think he has a pretty good shot.
It's funny that people tend to perceive me as pretty level headed and independent, I think, but I usually feel mostly like a mess on the inside. What would it be like if when people saw us, they were oblivious to appearance...hair, eyes, mannerisms, and instead only saw what was going on inside our head and a replay of the things we do when we think no one is watching? Hmm.
I was thinking about writing a story about someone that was very aware of time. They didn't own a watch. Ever. But they alwasys knew what time it was...down to the second. You ask Mary what time it is and she tells you 12:25 and 51 seconds...52 seconds...53 seconds...and then delving into how consumed her mind is with this ability and the toll it takes on her relationships. How even though her inner clock makes her accutely aware of the precise present time, this ability in itself keeps her from enjoying that very thing it is making her aware of...the here and now. I don't think Mary is the right name though. That's just the first thing that popped into my head.
I have worked the past five days. It's like I had a real five day work week that lasted from Thursday to Monday and it hit me today that I couldn't go anymore and I decided that's why day six is the weekend. As much as I would like for my week to be Saturday and Sunday and the weekend be the remainder days, when the man...whoever he was...decided that the work week would be 5 days, it must have been because his feet hurt too much for him to get out of bed on day six.
I took a two hour nap today after my work ended...from 5 to 7. It was lovely. There are few things I love more than taking an uninterrupted nap when I am really tired and have no where else to be. Bliss. It's what that is. And even though I spept for two hours, somehow I am one of those people that will go to bed in ten minutes and have no problem falling asleep or staying asleep. When people tell me they don't like naps in the middle of the day, that they can't go to sleep at night, I usually don't believe them, and I also get frustrated at them. I don't know why. I just do.
And now, after the most random post of my current blogs history, I am going to sleep.
Rudi Julliani is on David Letterman right now. I don't think he is qualified to be our president or vice-president of the United States of America. And then I realized, from our current situation, Americans' these days don't put much consideration into whether or not a man in qualified to hold the position. I nominate Ashton Kutcher for President 2008. I think he has a pretty good shot.
It's funny that people tend to perceive me as pretty level headed and independent, I think, but I usually feel mostly like a mess on the inside. What would it be like if when people saw us, they were oblivious to appearance...hair, eyes, mannerisms, and instead only saw what was going on inside our head and a replay of the things we do when we think no one is watching? Hmm.
I was thinking about writing a story about someone that was very aware of time. They didn't own a watch. Ever. But they alwasys knew what time it was...down to the second. You ask Mary what time it is and she tells you 12:25 and 51 seconds...52 seconds...53 seconds...and then delving into how consumed her mind is with this ability and the toll it takes on her relationships. How even though her inner clock makes her accutely aware of the precise present time, this ability in itself keeps her from enjoying that very thing it is making her aware of...the here and now. I don't think Mary is the right name though. That's just the first thing that popped into my head.
I have worked the past five days. It's like I had a real five day work week that lasted from Thursday to Monday and it hit me today that I couldn't go anymore and I decided that's why day six is the weekend. As much as I would like for my week to be Saturday and Sunday and the weekend be the remainder days, when the man...whoever he was...decided that the work week would be 5 days, it must have been because his feet hurt too much for him to get out of bed on day six.
I took a two hour nap today after my work ended...from 5 to 7. It was lovely. There are few things I love more than taking an uninterrupted nap when I am really tired and have no where else to be. Bliss. It's what that is. And even though I spept for two hours, somehow I am one of those people that will go to bed in ten minutes and have no problem falling asleep or staying asleep. When people tell me they don't like naps in the middle of the day, that they can't go to sleep at night, I usually don't believe them, and I also get frustrated at them. I don't know why. I just do.
And now, after the most random post of my current blogs history, I am going to sleep.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
My life at Starbucks
When you tell someone you work at Starbucks, they assume one of two things: you are a student needing part-time work in between classes or a mom needing part-time work to maintain your sanity. I am neither. When I tell them this, that I have finished school and carry a bachelors degree, there is a hesitated resposne that goes something like..."well...er...they have...um...great coffee"...or..."oh...I see. Good for you"...I just smile and go about my way, remindig myself their opinion doesn't matter much and that I am not a failure. It's really quite annoying, actually.
My dream: To someday own and operate a bakery that uses whole and fresh and unrefined ingredients...to spread the idea of mindfulness of what we are putting in our bodies while still enjoying the simple pleasure of a warm chocolate chip cookie strait from the oven or enjoying breakfast - a cinnamon and oat crunch scone - and a hot cup of tea - with a friend...and especially to create an environment for people to just be (I have actually considered calling it Just Be Bakery)...An environment where all are welcome, the prices aren't outrageous, a place where you are recognized and appreciated and treated with kindness...and sent on your way with yummy healthy goodies, to enjoy with the people in your life that you love. That is my vision. Working at Starbucks is excellent experience for someday creating a business of my own. Climbing their management ladder (as much as it pains me to do it at times) provides me the background and real life experience of running a business, but the safety of doing it under the wing of someone else, without the pressure of failing miserably and losing all of my money and investment. Let's be honest folks. The business side of things is NOT my strongpoint. Being able to learn from a company that clearly has a good hold on how to do it is invaluable for where I hope to end up.
At the end of the day, future goals and alterior motives and others expectations aside, I love where I work. I sincerely enjoy my job. Don't get me wrong; it has it's off days. But to be somewhere that enables me to interact with people on a daily basis, provide them with something they truly enjoy, and actually enjoy the partners I do it with...that's a blessing. I lived in Florida last year. Mostly alone. I enjoyed my job and my co-workers, but at the end of the day, I wen't home to a lot of emptiness. Since working at Starbucks, I have found a room-mate to live with at the end of the summer, a yoga buddy, a co-ed softball team, a friend to visit churches with, a book club to attend every other sunday night, where recently we have been discussing modern Christianity and its contrast to post-modern Christianity, what that looks like, and the logic behind it all. Last night we had a girls night...sushi...which I don't like. But I do like great ambiance, and the place we went had it. I had chicken lettuce wraps and a glass of wine and the making of some great friendships, the company of people that I truly enjoy. All of this because I work at Starbucks. I like to believe that God had a hand in it all...that there was a reason that I did want to work there, a reason why Ben hired me right after my interview, an hour before another interview at a different location...a place where I could truly begin to find a community of friends.
I have been wondering lately where I will end up, where I will go. I have been actually praying about it, and praying for a reason to be here, to stay. After sitting here and writing it all out, I think that I have more than just a reason. I have many.
My dream: To someday own and operate a bakery that uses whole and fresh and unrefined ingredients...to spread the idea of mindfulness of what we are putting in our bodies while still enjoying the simple pleasure of a warm chocolate chip cookie strait from the oven or enjoying breakfast - a cinnamon and oat crunch scone - and a hot cup of tea - with a friend...and especially to create an environment for people to just be (I have actually considered calling it Just Be Bakery)...An environment where all are welcome, the prices aren't outrageous, a place where you are recognized and appreciated and treated with kindness...and sent on your way with yummy healthy goodies, to enjoy with the people in your life that you love. That is my vision. Working at Starbucks is excellent experience for someday creating a business of my own. Climbing their management ladder (as much as it pains me to do it at times) provides me the background and real life experience of running a business, but the safety of doing it under the wing of someone else, without the pressure of failing miserably and losing all of my money and investment. Let's be honest folks. The business side of things is NOT my strongpoint. Being able to learn from a company that clearly has a good hold on how to do it is invaluable for where I hope to end up.
At the end of the day, future goals and alterior motives and others expectations aside, I love where I work. I sincerely enjoy my job. Don't get me wrong; it has it's off days. But to be somewhere that enables me to interact with people on a daily basis, provide them with something they truly enjoy, and actually enjoy the partners I do it with...that's a blessing. I lived in Florida last year. Mostly alone. I enjoyed my job and my co-workers, but at the end of the day, I wen't home to a lot of emptiness. Since working at Starbucks, I have found a room-mate to live with at the end of the summer, a yoga buddy, a co-ed softball team, a friend to visit churches with, a book club to attend every other sunday night, where recently we have been discussing modern Christianity and its contrast to post-modern Christianity, what that looks like, and the logic behind it all. Last night we had a girls night...sushi...which I don't like. But I do like great ambiance, and the place we went had it. I had chicken lettuce wraps and a glass of wine and the making of some great friendships, the company of people that I truly enjoy. All of this because I work at Starbucks. I like to believe that God had a hand in it all...that there was a reason that I did want to work there, a reason why Ben hired me right after my interview, an hour before another interview at a different location...a place where I could truly begin to find a community of friends.
I have been wondering lately where I will end up, where I will go. I have been actually praying about it, and praying for a reason to be here, to stay. After sitting here and writing it all out, I think that I have more than just a reason. I have many.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
untitled
I was driving tonight, by myself, thinking about how long it had been since I had blogged. I was thinking about writing and about how I have to feel compelled to write anything worth reading, and even then, it’s not necessarily worth reading. Something inside me prompts me, urges me, to get some part of some story out of the inside of my head…that prompting…urging…happened later in the evening, after my drive had ended. I had spent the day with my best friend…that person that knows you, all sides of you, and likes the fact that you aren’t sane most of the time…that person that knows your history and your present, and in knowing, has a clearer picture of all you are. We had been having fun. And then we moved on to more serious things: boys. It was inevitable, I suppose. We are both dating failures. Well, no, not even that exactly. We haven’t really had an opportunity to fail. We are dating challenged. And we understand this about each other, like no one else in either of our lives could…attempt…to. So there we were, talking about boys, our lack of, and reasoning through it all, attempting to convince each other that we would not end up old lonely hags, in so many words. We talked about our almosts, or rather our almost almosts, and about how much we felt in those instances, and how we couldn’t comprehend what it would feel like when it’s real. We talked about the lack of logic in it all, how we will always feel a certain way for certain people even the tough those people may never know we ever even felt that way…and we will always wonder if they felt anything for us…if we will ever have the courage to ask them, thinking maybe we will, but knowing really we won’t. And that’s how our evening ended, with all of those raw and sincere and sometimes painful realities rising to the surface of both my heart and my intellect, a volatile combination. She left and I was alone.
I was going to go grocery shopping, but my check that I had deposited earlier had not registered in my bank account. It was pending. Damn Bank of America. So I thought I would go and try on clothes. I felt like it was necessary, that when a woman is feeling emotionally distraught, and is also alone, she has two options. Chocolate or shopping. I knew I wouldn’t buy anything, so I thought that shopping would be the least destructive option. I went in Old Navy and walked around for three or so minutes, and it didn’t work, so I left, to go get some chocolate. That was definitely more helpful. And then I ran into an old friend from High School. She is a second year medical student. I love it when second year medical students, who will one day deliver babies or save lives or treat cancer patients ask me what I am doing, because I can say that I work at Starbucks. What a gratifying “look what I am doing for the good of humanity and also how I am oh so effectively using the degree I am currently making payments for” answer. So let me tell you, after the rising of my emotions that deal with a lifetime of rejection from the male population and then my running into the valedictorian of my graduation class, I was pretty much feeling secure and on top of the world. Not. Needy, rather. Yes, that’s a much better word for what I was feeling.
I also forgot to mention that I had driven by a very serious crash on my way to Tulsa…I was passing by immediately after, so much so that the fire truck had to cut in front of my lane of traffic to get to the victims. There was a man sitting, bleeding, probably in shock, a gigantic light pole leveled to the ground, and firemen struggling to get into the other side of the vehicle, the side that wasn’t recognizable. I drove away in tears.
So after I had finished my chocolate and tolerated enough forced catch up conversation, I left the book store and my mind numbing magazine behind, and decided to go and indulge in my other respite from the world…the world of film. I had wanted to see Year of the Dog, with Molly Shannon, for a few weeks now. I had suggested it to my parents, but after reading reviews decided it wasn’t the appropriate humor for my mom. My friend and I had thought of seeing it earlier, but it had started too late. So it worked out perfect, actually, because I felt better about seeing it alone anyway. It’s one of those odd movies that a lot of people wouldn’t get, so there wasn’t any pressure for anyone with me to like what I had recommended, because I was with myself. I got there a little early, and when I went to find my seat, the theater was empty and the teenage employees were still sweeping p popcorn off of the floor. I don’t know why, exactly, but that made me feel even more like a loser. Anyway, I took my seat, in the row right behind the bar, because I like to be able to put my feet on it, and also because it’s sort of close and I am near sided, so I can see better. I sat there for a good ten minutes, the only person in the theater, trying to convince myself that I won’t end up a lonely hag. And then a couple came in the theater, and we joked about how this is clearly a must see film, judging by the size of the audience. I joked that I couldn’t get anyone to come with me, and the man reassured me, saying he and his wife go to movies quite frequently by themselves. I told him I actually do to, and that in many instances, no offense to people, but that I prefer going alone. We talked about the philosophy behind that, about how you don’t feel pressured to talk to who your with, about how you are less distracted and can just enjoy the film, and what I mentioned previously, of how in going alone there is no pressure for the person you are with the enjoy your recommendation. And then he said something that brought me to tears. He prefaced it by saying how in love with his wife he was, so I was confused by the direction the conversation was going, and he was hesitating, forming his words carefully, which caught me a little off guard as well. He said that am a very pretty lady and that I should be out on a date. I am not saying this in arrogance; I hope I have made that clear. I am just saying this because it’s something I really needed to hear, something I don’t think I have ever heard, and it came from a random stranger in an otherwise empty movie theater in a moment of extremely rich neediness. I thanked him, and told him that I thought I was about to cry. And then his wife told me that I could pass for Maggie Gyllenhaal’s sister, and that was a compliment too because I really like her. She actually described her as that baker lady in the Will Ferrell movie, which was even cooler, because I want to be a baker.
This may sound really cheesy, but then I turned my eyes heavenward and thanked God for taking care of me in little ways that I could never expect, in ways that touch so close to the core of my soul. Honestly, that’s all I could think to do. It’s silly, I know. But that little scenario and those few words that came out of that gentleman’s mouth on that night when I was so aware of the feelings in my heart and disappointment on so many levels…it wasn’t just a coincidence. It was a beautiful thing, and I felt as if it was God’s way of reaching out to me in a way that He knew I would hear Him. And I did, very, very clearly.
I was going to go grocery shopping, but my check that I had deposited earlier had not registered in my bank account. It was pending. Damn Bank of America. So I thought I would go and try on clothes. I felt like it was necessary, that when a woman is feeling emotionally distraught, and is also alone, she has two options. Chocolate or shopping. I knew I wouldn’t buy anything, so I thought that shopping would be the least destructive option. I went in Old Navy and walked around for three or so minutes, and it didn’t work, so I left, to go get some chocolate. That was definitely more helpful. And then I ran into an old friend from High School. She is a second year medical student. I love it when second year medical students, who will one day deliver babies or save lives or treat cancer patients ask me what I am doing, because I can say that I work at Starbucks. What a gratifying “look what I am doing for the good of humanity and also how I am oh so effectively using the degree I am currently making payments for” answer. So let me tell you, after the rising of my emotions that deal with a lifetime of rejection from the male population and then my running into the valedictorian of my graduation class, I was pretty much feeling secure and on top of the world. Not. Needy, rather. Yes, that’s a much better word for what I was feeling.
I also forgot to mention that I had driven by a very serious crash on my way to Tulsa…I was passing by immediately after, so much so that the fire truck had to cut in front of my lane of traffic to get to the victims. There was a man sitting, bleeding, probably in shock, a gigantic light pole leveled to the ground, and firemen struggling to get into the other side of the vehicle, the side that wasn’t recognizable. I drove away in tears.
So after I had finished my chocolate and tolerated enough forced catch up conversation, I left the book store and my mind numbing magazine behind, and decided to go and indulge in my other respite from the world…the world of film. I had wanted to see Year of the Dog, with Molly Shannon, for a few weeks now. I had suggested it to my parents, but after reading reviews decided it wasn’t the appropriate humor for my mom. My friend and I had thought of seeing it earlier, but it had started too late. So it worked out perfect, actually, because I felt better about seeing it alone anyway. It’s one of those odd movies that a lot of people wouldn’t get, so there wasn’t any pressure for anyone with me to like what I had recommended, because I was with myself. I got there a little early, and when I went to find my seat, the theater was empty and the teenage employees were still sweeping p popcorn off of the floor. I don’t know why, exactly, but that made me feel even more like a loser. Anyway, I took my seat, in the row right behind the bar, because I like to be able to put my feet on it, and also because it’s sort of close and I am near sided, so I can see better. I sat there for a good ten minutes, the only person in the theater, trying to convince myself that I won’t end up a lonely hag. And then a couple came in the theater, and we joked about how this is clearly a must see film, judging by the size of the audience. I joked that I couldn’t get anyone to come with me, and the man reassured me, saying he and his wife go to movies quite frequently by themselves. I told him I actually do to, and that in many instances, no offense to people, but that I prefer going alone. We talked about the philosophy behind that, about how you don’t feel pressured to talk to who your with, about how you are less distracted and can just enjoy the film, and what I mentioned previously, of how in going alone there is no pressure for the person you are with the enjoy your recommendation. And then he said something that brought me to tears. He prefaced it by saying how in love with his wife he was, so I was confused by the direction the conversation was going, and he was hesitating, forming his words carefully, which caught me a little off guard as well. He said that am a very pretty lady and that I should be out on a date. I am not saying this in arrogance; I hope I have made that clear. I am just saying this because it’s something I really needed to hear, something I don’t think I have ever heard, and it came from a random stranger in an otherwise empty movie theater in a moment of extremely rich neediness. I thanked him, and told him that I thought I was about to cry. And then his wife told me that I could pass for Maggie Gyllenhaal’s sister, and that was a compliment too because I really like her. She actually described her as that baker lady in the Will Ferrell movie, which was even cooler, because I want to be a baker.
This may sound really cheesy, but then I turned my eyes heavenward and thanked God for taking care of me in little ways that I could never expect, in ways that touch so close to the core of my soul. Honestly, that’s all I could think to do. It’s silly, I know. But that little scenario and those few words that came out of that gentleman’s mouth on that night when I was so aware of the feelings in my heart and disappointment on so many levels…it wasn’t just a coincidence. It was a beautiful thing, and I felt as if it was God’s way of reaching out to me in a way that He knew I would hear Him. And I did, very, very clearly.
Friday, April 20, 2007
It wasn't supposed to be, but it always is...
I am always hesitant to put that my interests involve going to the movies. It sounds so superficial. “Like, ok, so I totally love hanging out with my friends and listening to music…and going to the movies.” It’s tainted with high school naiveté. No offense to high schoolers. You’ll understand it when your older…I am sure that probably offends you even more. But you really will. And when you do, you’ll forgive me. Anyway, so, I don’t like just putting that I like going to the movies. Even though I do. I really really do.
A therapist told my brother that he should watch television or a movie before he goes to bed because it will quiet his mind…he has a hard time shutting it down and the therapists rationale was that he wouldn’t have to think, because all the thinking had already been done. His mind would just sort of go numb to the story unfolding in front of him. That doesn’t happen for me. If he was my therapist, I would not have shown up for my next session.
Movies make me feel more alive. They remind me that love exists, even if it comes in the form of a cheesy chick flick. Grant it, it’s not likely that my best friends boyfriends best friend who happens to be the best man in her wedding will be incredibly and insanely attractive and also happen to feel that way about me, and also be a medical professional…say a doctor…and be single and ready to fall in love except for the fact that he is helping raise his brother’s children since his brother’s accident and so he has a lot on his plate and then he falls in love with me and then screws up because he isn’t sure if he is ready and then he spends time alone when it’s raining outside and Damien Rice is playing in the background ever so softly and then in a rare moment of clarity, while watching his nieces play in said rain, he realizes that if he is going to hold onto the things he loves, the things that are most important in life, he will make room for me, amongst his career and his nieces and that it’s all worth the effort and flash forward to a scene where I am contemplating a job offer in Chicago and am actually on the phone with my new potential boss negotiating salary and my kitchen door flings open and there he is, breathing heavily because he had to run three blocks because the traffic was so thick and he opens his mouth and says, “don’t go,” and I tell my un-future boss that I will have to call her back, and he runs up to me and trips on the bag I have waiting next to the door, since my cab is outside, and we both laugh and I help him up and he kisses me and then we get married in someone’s beautiful backyard and so it doesn’t necessarily happen just like that, but love does happen. And sometimes it takes a movie where it does happen like that to remind me that it does actually happen.Movies wake me up, and the breathe life in to the dead parts of my veins. When I walk out of the theater, especially after seeing one alone, it is like all of my senses are on high alert. Life is going on around me while mine is standing still, and I get from place to place without even being aware that my legs are moving. The looks on the faces of the people I pass are more exaggerated, I wonder more about whom they are and what they are about, and why they are here on this night at this time and where they wish they could be.
After the movie I watched tonight, I went to Barnes and Noble, because it is always hard for me to just go home after my movie high. I needed somewhere to unwind, since movies don’t actually do that for me. I walked toward the bathroom because I wanted to freshen my make-up, as if that matters, and even though I had enough sense to encourage myself that this was necessary, the world around me was still more fresh and alive and out of body than ever. I walked past the section of coffee table books about Marilyn Monroe and Italy and classic cars, and there was a gentleman with high waist polyester pants and a pale yellow polo shirt tucked neatly in, and he had such a kind inquisitive look on his face, that told me he had both lived a full life, full of joy and loss, and that he is indeed still living it. It made me wonder how long he had had those pants and if they were his dress pants that he sat aside special for a night on the town. I found joy in his confidence, and hope in the fact that he had no idea that they were no longer in style, and that if he had had an idea, he probably wouldn’t have cared. I got the feeling that he was somewhat aware of the important things in life.
I kept moving and passed a somewhat overweight gentleman standing in front of the health section. He wasn’t obese, but looked like it wouldn’t hurt him to say no to a donut here or there. I related to that, and I felt with him. I know the, “ I don’t necessarily want to be this way anymore, but I don’t necessarily not want to be this way anymore, and I am thinking about change, but I just don’t know where to start…and is everyone looking at me here in the health section thinking this is exactly where I need to be?” You feel brave and naked simultaneously. I was hopeful for him and sad for him simultaneously.
I got to the bathroom and pulled out my lip gloss and concealer. The concealer has become one of my best friends lately. Anyway, I pulled them out and applied them, and instant confidence booster. Done and off to find a book. I pushed open the bathroom door and in front of me was a woman in a bright red t-shirt struggling to get out of her wheel chair. I wondered how she was going to get the door open, and then I realized she wasn’t...that I was going to hold it open for her. I felt pity. I felt sad for her. In these situations I try to consciously remind myself that we are all people and we all feel and mostly we feel the same. So I looked her in the eye and asked her if she was coming through and held the door open, priding myself on my good Samaritan ways. We greeted each other with a smile and I asked her how she was doing this evening as she struggled to grab hold of the bathroom wall so that she could get to the toilet to do that thing that all of us humans have to do when we have drank a lot. She replied with such sincerity that she was doing “really great actually” and that she and her “husband are out on a date.” I told her that was so great, feeling in my bones the response I gave her, and walked away in shame…as if she was a charity case I should spend my time pitying and helping. As I dodged her wheel chair that was still sitting in the hallway outside the bathroom, I had to dodge in the opposite direction another woman that was all put together with the jewelry and the hair and the smug demeanor, including a facial scowl. Then I felt pity for her, and I walked down the isle, toward the kid section, to a row of fantasy, and I cried. I cried because I was reminded of what is real, what is really real, and I felt convicted of the things in my life that I pursue that have no means. I cried because in that moment I was reminded more of the reality of love, by my friend that had to cling to the walls to make it to the bathroom, so that she could get back to her date with her husband, than any hour-and-a-half chick flick I had ever viewed, or will ever view for that matter…I cried because I acknowledged my need for artificial stimuli to remind me to live, when in reality, what should wake me up is all around me every moment in the faces that appear in my daily life. I cried because of the short but beautiful love story I had just encountered…And it isn’t that I was so impressed that someone could actually love her. It’s bigger than that. It hits at the core of it all, the birth place of whatever it is that enables us lowly humans to feel connected to another individual. That love really is bigger than that, than what we make it. It isn’t based in superficiality or flirtation, as fun as that is, or infatuation, as fun as that is. It’s more than I can put into words, especially since I have never actually been in love. But from what I have seen from the supposed love that has fallen apart to the unlikely relationships that have endured, to the labeled unlovable finding love, it’s just so much bigger than that, whatever that is.
I didn’t mean for this post to end up being about love. But Jack Johnson says something about that, about love being his answer to most of the bigger questions, so it shouldn’t be such a surprise to me that it turned out this way. I also didn’t mean to cry again in public. I didn’t stay at Barnes and Noble. I couldn’t. I had successfully been knocked from my movie high back into reality, and where I ended up was so much better. I walked to my car in tears, and wouldn’t you know, the couple in the car next to me were arguing. Talk about being knocked back into reality. She said something about him not starting it again, and he said something back to her about her not starting it again, and so I cried more for another reason, about how capable we humans are of hurting the ones we love. And then I started the car and a Bryan Adams song was playing, Everything thing I do, I do it for you, and then I laughed, because I really felt like my moment had almost come full circle, that I was now actually in a movie. And so I laughed some more and cried some more and ended my evening with Bryan Adams, feeling so full of life, more so than I have felt in a long while.
A therapist told my brother that he should watch television or a movie before he goes to bed because it will quiet his mind…he has a hard time shutting it down and the therapists rationale was that he wouldn’t have to think, because all the thinking had already been done. His mind would just sort of go numb to the story unfolding in front of him. That doesn’t happen for me. If he was my therapist, I would not have shown up for my next session.
Movies make me feel more alive. They remind me that love exists, even if it comes in the form of a cheesy chick flick. Grant it, it’s not likely that my best friends boyfriends best friend who happens to be the best man in her wedding will be incredibly and insanely attractive and also happen to feel that way about me, and also be a medical professional…say a doctor…and be single and ready to fall in love except for the fact that he is helping raise his brother’s children since his brother’s accident and so he has a lot on his plate and then he falls in love with me and then screws up because he isn’t sure if he is ready and then he spends time alone when it’s raining outside and Damien Rice is playing in the background ever so softly and then in a rare moment of clarity, while watching his nieces play in said rain, he realizes that if he is going to hold onto the things he loves, the things that are most important in life, he will make room for me, amongst his career and his nieces and that it’s all worth the effort and flash forward to a scene where I am contemplating a job offer in Chicago and am actually on the phone with my new potential boss negotiating salary and my kitchen door flings open and there he is, breathing heavily because he had to run three blocks because the traffic was so thick and he opens his mouth and says, “don’t go,” and I tell my un-future boss that I will have to call her back, and he runs up to me and trips on the bag I have waiting next to the door, since my cab is outside, and we both laugh and I help him up and he kisses me and then we get married in someone’s beautiful backyard and so it doesn’t necessarily happen just like that, but love does happen. And sometimes it takes a movie where it does happen like that to remind me that it does actually happen.Movies wake me up, and the breathe life in to the dead parts of my veins. When I walk out of the theater, especially after seeing one alone, it is like all of my senses are on high alert. Life is going on around me while mine is standing still, and I get from place to place without even being aware that my legs are moving. The looks on the faces of the people I pass are more exaggerated, I wonder more about whom they are and what they are about, and why they are here on this night at this time and where they wish they could be.
After the movie I watched tonight, I went to Barnes and Noble, because it is always hard for me to just go home after my movie high. I needed somewhere to unwind, since movies don’t actually do that for me. I walked toward the bathroom because I wanted to freshen my make-up, as if that matters, and even though I had enough sense to encourage myself that this was necessary, the world around me was still more fresh and alive and out of body than ever. I walked past the section of coffee table books about Marilyn Monroe and Italy and classic cars, and there was a gentleman with high waist polyester pants and a pale yellow polo shirt tucked neatly in, and he had such a kind inquisitive look on his face, that told me he had both lived a full life, full of joy and loss, and that he is indeed still living it. It made me wonder how long he had had those pants and if they were his dress pants that he sat aside special for a night on the town. I found joy in his confidence, and hope in the fact that he had no idea that they were no longer in style, and that if he had had an idea, he probably wouldn’t have cared. I got the feeling that he was somewhat aware of the important things in life.
I kept moving and passed a somewhat overweight gentleman standing in front of the health section. He wasn’t obese, but looked like it wouldn’t hurt him to say no to a donut here or there. I related to that, and I felt with him. I know the, “ I don’t necessarily want to be this way anymore, but I don’t necessarily not want to be this way anymore, and I am thinking about change, but I just don’t know where to start…and is everyone looking at me here in the health section thinking this is exactly where I need to be?” You feel brave and naked simultaneously. I was hopeful for him and sad for him simultaneously.
I got to the bathroom and pulled out my lip gloss and concealer. The concealer has become one of my best friends lately. Anyway, I pulled them out and applied them, and instant confidence booster. Done and off to find a book. I pushed open the bathroom door and in front of me was a woman in a bright red t-shirt struggling to get out of her wheel chair. I wondered how she was going to get the door open, and then I realized she wasn’t...that I was going to hold it open for her. I felt pity. I felt sad for her. In these situations I try to consciously remind myself that we are all people and we all feel and mostly we feel the same. So I looked her in the eye and asked her if she was coming through and held the door open, priding myself on my good Samaritan ways. We greeted each other with a smile and I asked her how she was doing this evening as she struggled to grab hold of the bathroom wall so that she could get to the toilet to do that thing that all of us humans have to do when we have drank a lot. She replied with such sincerity that she was doing “really great actually” and that she and her “husband are out on a date.” I told her that was so great, feeling in my bones the response I gave her, and walked away in shame…as if she was a charity case I should spend my time pitying and helping. As I dodged her wheel chair that was still sitting in the hallway outside the bathroom, I had to dodge in the opposite direction another woman that was all put together with the jewelry and the hair and the smug demeanor, including a facial scowl. Then I felt pity for her, and I walked down the isle, toward the kid section, to a row of fantasy, and I cried. I cried because I was reminded of what is real, what is really real, and I felt convicted of the things in my life that I pursue that have no means. I cried because in that moment I was reminded more of the reality of love, by my friend that had to cling to the walls to make it to the bathroom, so that she could get back to her date with her husband, than any hour-and-a-half chick flick I had ever viewed, or will ever view for that matter…I cried because I acknowledged my need for artificial stimuli to remind me to live, when in reality, what should wake me up is all around me every moment in the faces that appear in my daily life. I cried because of the short but beautiful love story I had just encountered…And it isn’t that I was so impressed that someone could actually love her. It’s bigger than that. It hits at the core of it all, the birth place of whatever it is that enables us lowly humans to feel connected to another individual. That love really is bigger than that, than what we make it. It isn’t based in superficiality or flirtation, as fun as that is, or infatuation, as fun as that is. It’s more than I can put into words, especially since I have never actually been in love. But from what I have seen from the supposed love that has fallen apart to the unlikely relationships that have endured, to the labeled unlovable finding love, it’s just so much bigger than that, whatever that is.
I didn’t mean for this post to end up being about love. But Jack Johnson says something about that, about love being his answer to most of the bigger questions, so it shouldn’t be such a surprise to me that it turned out this way. I also didn’t mean to cry again in public. I didn’t stay at Barnes and Noble. I couldn’t. I had successfully been knocked from my movie high back into reality, and where I ended up was so much better. I walked to my car in tears, and wouldn’t you know, the couple in the car next to me were arguing. Talk about being knocked back into reality. She said something about him not starting it again, and he said something back to her about her not starting it again, and so I cried more for another reason, about how capable we humans are of hurting the ones we love. And then I started the car and a Bryan Adams song was playing, Everything thing I do, I do it for you, and then I laughed, because I really felt like my moment had almost come full circle, that I was now actually in a movie. And so I laughed some more and cried some more and ended my evening with Bryan Adams, feeling so full of life, more so than I have felt in a long while.
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