Quotable Friday (Monday Edition) June 25, 2007

“The continual inner-searching we do in an effort to see if we are what we ought to be generates a self-centered, sickly type of Christianity, not the vigorous and simple life of a child of God. [...] How long is it going to take God to free us from the unhealthy habit of thinking only about ourselves?  We must get to the point of being sick to death of ourselves [...]“

–Oswald Chambers

“My Utmost for His Highest”
June 21

Here’s what I wrote in my journal in response to this passage:

“I think I’m definitely getting to that point of being sick of myself.  Sick of examining my life from every angle, going through my thoughts with a fine-toothed comb, weighing every motive and testing every emotion.  [...] I know it’s part of my natural temperament [...]  Chambers prescribes living up to our calling as a ‘royal priesthood’ by interceding [praying] for loved ones and strangers alike instead of constant self-examination.”

Work Self June 20, 2007

Does anyone else feel like they are a weird, hollow version of herself at work?  It’s like the second I walk in the door, I become a 2-dimensional, shadow-like version of me.  Joy 1.0, if you will.  I feel tired, sluggish, bored with life.   Sometimes I can barely keep my eyes open.  I can’t see very far ahead into my future…it looks a little bleak.

But the second I get in my car at the end of the day, the real me swoops back in.  It’s like in those stupid movies when a ghost steps into the body of a mortal and animates it.  The true me steps into the work shell, and I become full of life again.  I’m excited about seeing friends, going to the gym, having some frozen yogurt.

When I do try to be that person at work, people look at me like I’m crazy.  Am I?  Or am I just violating cultural mores by being myself in the workplace?  I just know that it makes me dread going to work everyday, when I have to leave myself in the car.  Now that it’s getting to be in the 90’s everyday, I’m going to be sure to crack a window.

Wicked June 13, 2007

I just saw Wicked last night!  It was so amazing.  What is even more amazing is that I went for free!  I feel like it was a special little gift from God to me, His daughter.  Several months ago a friend gave me a copy of the Wicked soundtrack, and I fell in love with it.  I remember listening to it and feeling sad because I didn’t have the money to go, or a friend who would even be willing to shell out the cash to go with me.  One day as I was belting it out along with the soundtrack in my car, I said a small but sincere prayer.  I asked God if He could help me go to Wicked.  I know it sounds silly.  But I truly feel that God is my Father, and dads like to do fun stuff like that for their daughters sometimes.  So then, when I found out that the school I teach at was taking a field trip to Wicked, I knew in my heart that it was a little love gift from my Father. 

What’s even cooler is that one of the kids didn’t show up and so I got to invite a friend!  And the show was SO awesome!!!  You should definitely go!

There’s Two? June 12, 2007

Yesterday I went to the local Mail Depot-type store to send off an application.  Here’s how the conversation went:

 Me: “I want to send this application to Australia.”

Mail Depot Employee: “The one that’s above New Zealand?”

Me: “Yeah.  …wait, which other Australia is there?”

Mail Depot Employee: “You know, Austria, near Germany.”

Me: “Oh.  …right…”

I hope my application gets to Oz okay.

Gym Etiquette (or lack thereof) June 11, 2007

I never used to be a gym rat, but now I find myself looking forward to working up a sweat with all the other sweaty rats.  I think my new rodent status is a direct result of my piggy backing on my parents’ membership at the swanky gym in town.  It’s SO nice!  I tried out L.A. Fitness for a week, and that place was ghetto.  You always had to wait for a cardio machine, and when you finally got one you couldn’t concentrate on burning calories because the other people waiting were burning holes in you with their eyes, trying to will you to get off before your allotted 20 minutes.

Quotable Fridays June 8, 2007

“I wrote to sublimate my rage, from a place where all hope is gone, from a madness of having been damaged too much, from a silence of killing rage. I wrote to avenge the betrayals of a lifetime, to purge the bitterness of injustice. I wrote with a deep groan of doom in my blood, bewildered and dumbstruck; from an indestructible love of life, to affirm breath and laughter and the abiding innocence of things. I wrote the way I wept, and danced, and made love.”

from Jimmy Santiago Baca’s Doing Time: Twenty-Five Years of Prison Writing

Extreme Poodle Makeover June 6, 2007

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to become a blog about poodles.  But in an update to a previous post,  a cliff hanger which depicted Trixie Belle in reverent prayer as she prepared for a horrific day at the groomer’s, I wanted to show some before and after photos:

 Here’s Trixie before her haircut.  This style is reminiscent of a high school skater’s mop top circa 1995 (Clueless era – remember Travis Birkenstock?).

 

What’s My Age Again? June 2, 2007

So the other day I came across this question:
“If you did not know your own age, how old would you believe yourself to be?”

All right, let that sink in. It’s crazy! My first thought is, “my own age, of course.” That’s because I’m basically “on track” for an American my age. I’ve been out of college in the “real world” for a year. I don’t have a lot of money in my bank account, I don’t have a lot of possessions, and I’m single. These would be clues for me that I’m in my early twenties. But what if I had no idea about any exterior circumstances or hints? What if you woke up one morning and were in an empty room, with no other ideas about your life, and had to decide how old you were? It kind of freaks me out a little when I think about it, like trying to wrap my mind around the concept of eternity. How old do I feel? I’ve felt older than some 40-year-olds I’ve met, and younger than some 12-year-olds. Sometimes I still want to throw a fit when I have to do un-fun stuff like get my car washed or figure out my benefits package at work. Does that lower my age? But the experiences I’ve had, the places I’ve been, and the people I’ve met all disqualify me, in my opinion, from being any younger than 20. I’m not usually this philosophical, I promise. But lately, whenever my brain has any “dead air” time, this question comes swooping in and gives me goosebumps.

Seeking Favor June 1, 2007

My poodle, Trixie, is getting groomed today.  Grooming Day is never a happy day in our house.  Ever since Trixie was a pup, she has been scared to death of the groomer.  We’ve tried taking her to different places, and even for about a year hired a mobile groomer to come to our house and cut Trixie’s hair in a truck outside so she would be spared the Car Ride of Terror.  I remember one time when the groomer showed up at our house, she had been there enough times for Trixie to recognize her.  When we heard a knock at the door, Trixie, in her ignorance, bounded toward the foyer barking joyfully.  But the sight of the groomer scared the crap out of her.  No, literally.  Trixie turned tail and ran away, two tiny turds falling from her butt after sheer terror loosened her bowels.  Okay, it was pretty much the funniest and saddest thing I’ve ever seen.