"merry christ-x"

at the shop, i get all sorts of useless publications. my favorite one is this whole catalog filled entirely with hats made of raffia that come in either purple or red only. some have appliqué, some have rhinestones, some even have a sparrow or other aviary creature constructed of the same purple or red raffia. to think of an entire business built on the demographic of middle aged black women who go to church! other publications include tan-thru swimsuits, arch inserts and wig supply. i don't really take the time to cancel these, as it's mildly entertaining and i have better things to do than to sit on the phone all day canceling the hundreds of catalogs that come through the mail every week.

the most peculiar catalog i receive is from a company who specializes in t-shirts with crass humor, drug paraphernalia (my only explanation is that selling drugs is illegal but not the associated accouterments?), skateboard stickers, kool aid colored hair dye and some varieties of sex toys. i looked at the first one that came through, purely out of curiosity, but now, when i receive them, they are ditched in the garbage without another thought, along with the window cleaning supply catalog, the plus size sweater catalog and the magician's supply trade book.

this morning, said catalog was handed to my by my postal carrier. usually i have a pile of mail on top of it so it seems harmless enough. but today, this was the only thing he handed me, and it happened to feature a disproportionately large busted woman on the front, suggestively looking and posing for the camera. yeah, embarrassing.

in fear that someone else might see it if i disposed of it in the garbage can by the counter, i threw it away in the trash bin in the back and forgot about it. a couple of hours later, the ozarka man knocked on the back door. i opened the door and notice that he looks directly down at my garbage can. i look too, only to find the top half of the magazine covered up and the only thing now visible is the inhumanely large boobs of this woman. it was awkward.

and now i am faced with calling to cancel the subscription. the problem is that it's not even addressed to me but to the former owners of this store. i don't want to have to jump through hoops just to get this taken care of. that would make things far worse.

but it has been a surprise to me how little i care of what my mailman or waterman thinks of me. maybe next christmas, i can get them their own monogrammed bong. . .

moonlighting

bradley is not the runaway type of dog. but he is a wanderer. neither chad nor i have an enclosed fence so we've had to devise ways to keep him from wandering past our property lines. at my house, his scare with animal control (an hour long chase, 3 tranquilizer darts, an overnight stay in the quarantine section of the pound) created an fear association that prevents him from going into the front yard at all. but at chad's, where mean, street smart dogs and dog catchers run rampant, we had a hard time thinking of ways to keep him in the small plot of land behind chad's house that he is alloted to roam.

until now.



you're probably confused. too morbid to be a superhero. too pervy-looking to be the dog whisperer. too scandalous to be part of law enforcement. i was too. and, as you either guessed from association or posture or the random camo long johns (or that his elbows never touch his sides due to his huge lats), this is actually chad. dressed in this get up, when bradley tries to wander into the front yard, chad, hiding behind his truck, jumps out and screams, which actually ends up sounding like something between a moan, cough and roar.

but it does the trick, apparently, and i guess that's all that matters.

rolling in my 5 point oh with my rag top down so my hair can grow

well, i know that everyone has been shaking in their trousers worried about my orchid, and, by inference, the dying love between chad and me. so to my surprise today, i happened to look at the orchid to find new roots and leaves growing in! not only that, but the one bloom is not just surviving, it is casting a glow of life and hope onto the whole room. so there.




and, yesterday, mimi and i were talking about the fact that just because you are complimented on something, it doesn't mean that the complimenter really likes the object of deference. for instance, a good customer walked in to pick up some alterations. i thought she was dressed pretty normally until she pointed at something and i spied a wing of tie-dyed fringe emerging where the disconnect between arm and body should have been.

before i knew it, i said "...., i LOVE your top, that is so cool!" and i didn't mean it at all! maybe i thought she saw me looking at that sartorial disturbance with a furrowed brow and thought i had to save myself. or maybe i thought that something like that couldn't pass without being noticed and i couldn't get myself to say "wow, that's a really weird and sort of dumb shirt".

if the shoe fits. . .

i am not very interested in celebrities, especially now that you can somehow make a lot of money for doing really unintelligent, ridiculous things. but i go to web site for us weekly every now and again and for some reason, am in raptures over the collection of pictures called "just like us". and i feel so condescended on, so looked down on, but i love it. they get caught in the rain! they go to mcdonald's drive thrus! they shop for fabric! they have bad hair days!

in other news, i think my orchid has died. we are riding on the hope of one bloom that just sprouted will keep us in the game, but the other five blooms that have been going for 5 months are wilting away like barry bonds' weiner after steroids. chad bought it for me several months ago when we were on a 24 hour break. he said if i let the orchid die, i will let our love die.

diatribe of nations

well, it used to be that a person's taste in music was reflective of the soulful innards of the individual. it was like a metaphysical grocery cart, collected department to department, produce first, then dry goods, then refrigerated. what you get out with was usually in direct proportion to how much effort you put into it. if you did well, you would come home with the frost on the ice cream carton intact, enough food to replace the 80%-100% consumed items and a tranquil satisfaction, knowing that you purchased the one item that provided the impetus for the grocery excursion to begin with. you knew you wouldn't be back for another week and you acted like it. if you did not plan, list or map, you bought apples when you still had 5, slurp your way through a full carton of ice cream soup and forgot the friggin peanut butter puffins. again.

it used to mean a lot if a person had good musical taste. it meant even more if a person had bad musical taste. if someone said that they listen to fugazi, the flaming lips, chet baker and ulrich schnauss, your response couldn't be any less than teeming awe. this individual was certainly not bound by by time, by trend, by instrument, by intonation, by familiarity. this individual did not fall into the easy trap of finding and tying his identity with one genre. even if the person turned out to be a complete ass hole, you would still be forced to have at least a modicum of respect for him by virtue of this mad talent. but now, sadly, everyone has GREAT taste in music and is SO diversified AND lists every band they've ever loved on facebook. you don't know if the person's brilliant taste is genuine and hard earned and original or if he's hawked cds based off of someone's list on amazon.com. or itunes. or myspace. ugh.

i have always accepted and agreed that good taste is a privilege and mostly innate. it is not something that should be able to be synthesized or fabricated. and when i reflect on it, there is something quite menacing about the idea of an perfectly egalitarian culture, where everyone gets to participate in anything, on any level. people who, ordinarily, would first start with learning to love the ramones and then move on to madonna's early work and then graduate to radiohead, just jump in somewhere between the doors and bjork and come out looking like a pop music virtuoso.

something real wrong about that. reminds me of gilded gold, it's only shiny on the outside.

two sides of the coin laundry

a lot of people know the tough guy side of chad:



few people know the kinder, softer, pervy/creepy side:

don't tase me, bro!

paul's new web site is up! check out the community forums, guitar tabs and click on as many ads as you can, you'll be sending future generations of kims to college...

christianguitar.org

perqs of the job.

here is what it's like if you ever come over and have a piece of pizza.

ps. i realize that there is a theme in these pictures of me looking like i got dressed in the dark, picking clothes from my wardrobe that consists entirely of sporting gear and that i subsequently survived a sandstorm. i don't deny that this is what i look like most of the time.

olive oil task force

there's nothing that bradley likes better than doing things he doesn't understand. not really. it pretty much includes everything outside of eating, sleeping and stretching. i sometimes think that his own bark startles him. but it doesn't stop us from stretching his horizons, even if it is just to fabricate a reality that he really isn't as dull in mind and personality as a penny loafer.

here he is, dressed up for halloween, as superdog.

chad "don't call me larry" craig

here is a picture that marcy took of chadsicle and me, after his first bike ride ever.

dog the quilted, double ply paper towel hunter

what sort of place is this anyway? we blithely call our society "home", "america", "land of the free" and all the while, dog the bounty hunter has to tuck his tail between his legs for making a racial slur...i mean, the guy is a bounty hunter - it would seem to me that he's not a part of the fbi or any other conventional form of law enforcement because he's subterranean in that way. part of the reason we watch him is an attempt to preserve the unkempt, prosaic man in all of us. dog the bounty hunter isn't supposed to follow the rules. his name is dog! he's a bounty hunter!

(no i've never seen an episode but from what i know, he is an archetype redneck who happens to be a bounty hunter with a tv show documenting his adventures. i "hear" from "experts" that he has quite a following. dang it. i just watered down my opinion.)

smile, you're on candid cameroon island

i have been thinking, today, that we are become a less candid society. the mercury in the BS thermoometer is rising, folks. i attribute some of it to clouding transparency with which our government operates, with how we communicate (less person to person, more text, email, chat, etc), with the ever-increasing obsession of celebrity culture. but the factor that i feel like has most affected the "regular person" begins or is exacerbated by the advent of the digital camera.

the frequency at which we pose and take pictures has increased to such an exponential degree that even in our off-camera lives, we are more posed, more styled, more aware, more apt to conforming to the big brother theory that someone is always watching.

it used to be that only girls and guys who came out of the collegiate greek system really perfected their camera smiles and poses. after attending and being photographed in 147 crush events, 16 formals and countless smokers, tailgates and bid days, who wouldn't be? but now, in a peculiar and unfortunate fashion, everyone else is too. not only are we arranging our body parts in the most advantageous visual arrangement, we are experimenting with "candid" faces that are at their derivative, a variation and progression of the above mentioned smile.

in effect, the whole psychology behind picture taking is changing. it's strayed away from a more introspective, sentimental "let's make memories" mindset to a more extroverted, ephemeral "i can't wait to post this on facebook so people know how fun my life is" perspective.

i don't think it's necessarily bad, just different. most people who were adults before digital cameras became the norm (and didn't adhere to the collegiate greek delineation i mentioned earlier) still have awkward smiles no matter what, with no matter how much practice, in every kind of lighting situation.

my personal favorite that i like to practice is to make my eyes look bored/serious and my mouth happy/content looking. i like this face because it's ambiguous and i feel it is my quiet rage against the superficiality machine.

i'll admit, my fear in having a rehearsed smile or pose is the idea that maybe one day i will have perfected it and end up looking more attractive in pictures than i do in person to the point that my camera persona is an inaccurate representation of who i am. don't think i'm making any sorts of claims on either state. luckily, i don't think i have much to worry about, i fit into the awkward-smile-no-matter-what category.

on another note, i cannot stand mischa barton. i think she looks like a cocker spaniel and should absolutely not be considered a style icon.

yo! semite...

a fun game for you, if you have a few seconds. and so you know that i'm not the only kid on the poop block.

if you can't read korean, just know that it's just like the first version of space invaders. you can move from side to side and also shoot at the target.

thanks, nathan, for the link.

http://www.mikewang.org/images/chimgam9.swf

pooping is like diving

i have been about 85% happy with my poop these days. the approach, good. entry, good. but i'm not particularly happy with the finish. not clean enough. must consult with the chinese first, germans second. but not americans, they produced the prematurely graying, latently homosexual, spatially challenged greg louganis.

atmostheory

within 6 degrees, any problem or question in the world can be blamed on/answered with fat people. for example:

q. why are gas prices so high?

a. people with big butts need more roomy seating, more roomy seating exists mainly in SUVs (and many models from buick), which take more gas. more demand means that gas companies can charge a premium, especially since they know that said demographic won't walk anywhere.

q. why did ghetto gangsta rappers used to drive around in sleek sports cars or convertibles and now thy drive around in cadillac escalades?

a. dead bodies used to fit into the trunk space of even the smallest sportscars. now, since one out of three random people that these people shoot is overweight, more trunk space is required to carry them around. especially in detroit (refer to question 1 to obtain the domino effect).

q. how do we solve the issue of global warming?

a. kill off al gore.

purina dog ciao

bradley and i spent about 10 minutes tonight hunting a roach. pest control is his one and only pragmatic utility. for as large an animal as he is, he's not very useful...he is never yoked to a plow or suited in armor to have to fight off enemies. he doesn't hunt for his own food and he certainly can't sire a litter. he can't iron, grocery shop, advise me or even pick up a crummy pencil when i drop it (i have tried)...but for as long as i have had him, there is still something in the back of my mind that tells me that because he weighs as much as a human (and, is consequently as strong and able bodied, minus the opposable thumbs) that he should be as useful as one. like he should be more of a canine roommate than a canine companion. he's afraid of cats, slow moving ceiling fans, elongated shadows, 6 pound chihuahuas, fly swatters, pecan trees...but he's not afraid of roaches. and maybe it is because he really is literally afraid of everything else that i beam with pride when i see him go after an insect that is roughly 1/2500th his size. his ears perk up, his tail wags high and he sort of has this conquering and bad ass look on his face, like he's imagining the roach to be a wild boar instead.

he normally follows them around, sniffs them with great intensity and then steps on them. but tonight, he didn't get the roach. i think that adventure wore him out, so, he's taking his 20 hour power nap. but he'll be back and he'll have another 10 minute jolt of greatness. you watch.

he used to not be afraid of squirrels but then, one day, more than one showed up and his fragile self esteem shattered and he ran inside. one other time, he picked up an armadillo in cameron park and ran around with it in his mouth for a while. and then he didn't know what to do with it or where to go so he dropped it.

secret asian man

i sometimes think that ignorance is the opposite of fear. i'm not speaking of an aggressive ignorance, in which people operate maliciously with a very obvious gap in understanding and with no desire for reconciliation - i mean that without monsters and ghosts, there is no reason why one would fear at night. without the knowledge of murderers, rapists and thieves, there is no reason to clutch your bag in a big city or walk briskly to your car after a late night movie. when you aren't aware of opinion and criticism, you do not fear that you aren't attractive enough or cool enough or smart enough. i realize that this argument breaks down just as swiftly as i've built it up, but i only mean to say that maybe knowledge doesn't always create power and safety like we had hoped. maybe there is a limit to the good that knowing produces. maybe what we ought to be less concerned with the accumulation of facts and more concerned with is how we synthesize the information that we learn - how to take each moment of insight and process it to the depths, to the foundation of our minds, from up to down, from front to back.

let's take the "green movement" for example. people fear the effects of global warming, pesticides and a hyper-industrialized world. so we drive hybrid cars, recycle and buy organic food. but to me, it doesn't cure these fears, it gives a superficial treatment to the issue at hand. and there's obviously a strong tie between this movement and the maniacally consumerist american mindset. we buy and buy and buy to quell the fear of being without, of being out of control, of not feeling satisfied with ourselves. . .after all, if you take away our "stuff", what are we? but we feel justified because we recycle the cardboard packaging and catalogs and plastic casing that our crap comes in and with. but if the purpose of recycling is conservation, what is the point if we, ourselves, don't become more conservative in consuming? we are, in effect, only applying a band aid to the plague of overconsumerism. would recycling have such emphasis if we didn't have so much that we were discarding in the first place? if we needed or ate all of the food that we bought, would farmers have to carry the burden of producing more crop than the soil of their farmland is capable of producing? would we have to be so reliant on gas and cars if we were more conservative in the activities and schedules and mindless errands that fuel our high-maintenance lifestyles? it's almost as if we have decided that self-restraint isn't an option, that we won't stop spending and so we have to build measures that simply mitigate its negative consequences.

the point is that to truly quell the cycle of fear, knowledge must be digested, absorbed, understood and applied fully and comprehensively. knowing facts won't make you less afraid. having stuff won't either. ultimately, i think that self-sufficiency, self-reliance is the only cure for fear. i know this is a big big subject. i am not the expert in theory or practice on self reliance or conservation for that matter. it seems as daunting to think about and explain as a task of explaining the universe or love or God.

an excerpt from "on fear" by j krishnamurti

"one asks why human beings, who have lived on this earth for millions of years, who are technologically intelligent, have not applied their intelligence to be free from this very complex problem of fear, which may be one of the reasons for war, for killing one another. and religions throughout the world have not solved the problem; not the gurus, nor the saviours; nor ideals. so it is very clear that no outside agency-however elevated, however much made popular by propaganda-no outside agency can ever possibly solve this problem of human fear...so what is fear? what are the contributory factors that bring about fear? like many small streams, rivulets that make the tremendous volume of a river; what are the small streams that bring about fear? that have such tremendous vitality of fear. is one of the causes of fear comparison?...obviously it is so...when you compare yourself with another, ideologically, psychologically, or even physically, there is the striving to become that; and there is the fear that you may not. it is the desire to fulfill and you may not be able to fulfill. where there is comparison there must be fear...can one live without comparing, imitating or conforming psychologically? of course one can. if those are the contributory factors of fear, and you are concerned with the ending of fear, then inwardly there is no comparison, which means there is no becoming...if there is a physical cause that gives you a stomach ache, there is an ending of that pain by discovering the cause of it. similarly, where there is any cause there is an ending."

it's my birthday and i'll pry if i want to. . .

today, i am officially of legal drinking age. apparently, nelson mandela was important enough to get a downloadable video of his birthday ceremony on the front page of yahoo news. me, not so much.

a few things that i've learned over the year.

1. less is not more, more is more.

2. (nothing. everyone knows that second place is the first loser).

3. bad ass people do bad ass things (thanks biggie).

and that's how i try to live.

tres leaches

another picture from wedding weekend. sometimes we like to look like we dislike each other.

\

ps. check out the new blog on the block:

sweethomeheartoftexas.blogspot.com

public enema

i have an arch nemesis. a few people who read this blog know who she is (don't even think i gave you a clue by saying "she". i could be feigning to be one of those feminists who uses "she" instead of "he" as a general/gender neutral term).

anyway, it's not like me to have an enemy. generally, when i don't care about or care for someone, i have very little trouble being rude or just forgetting about her (boo yah!) existence entirely.

but i can't do either of those things with her. maybe it's like death compared to suffering. i think i would rather die than suffer for a really long time. and maybe that's why she's my arch nemesis. maybe that's what distinguishes an enemy from an arch enemy - recurrence, persistence, reappearance in your life like some sort of virus you can't shake. like a staph infection. or jock itch.

ergo, i will now refer to her as TIMS (thorn in my side).

so everytime i see her, i'm really nice. i use my first string varsity jokes on her. and i smile and say things quietly out of the side of my mouth to make her think that she's on the inside track. and i tell her we should have lunch sometime. and inside, i'm giving her the finger and picturing her on one of those medieval stretching machines. and then i call marcy and say mean things. let's face it, gossip in controlled doses is BRILLIANT.

on a brighter note, here is a picture from the celebrity-laden wedding i attended this past weekend. it's really just a picture of my hunky BF, chuckles, at amy's ice cream in austin. this morning, he was at my house on the computer and when i left, i asked him if he would be looking at any porn. "no, but i am definitely going to be looking at some corn."

 

mike and the mechanical engineers

is the jeep wrangler the young man's mazda miata?

bad bad leroy brown

i'm having two main issues today: the domestication of animals, specifically, the dog and the cow and secondly, being cornered and then labeled as a "picky" person when it comes to restaurant choice.

to address the first, starting with some background: i like midnight snacks. i eat them even if i am not hungry. mostly because i like being secretive but also because i think midnight snacking is a lost art. several nights ago, i went to the kitchen and decided on marcy's pistachios. bradley knows when the middle of the night grazing occurs, as manifested by his licking of the chops as soon as i sit up. so i return and am laying in bed, curled around the four by six by three inch tupperware container that housed said nuts...and bradley is staring at me, intently. at first, i dismiss him thinking that dogs, in their history, have probably never eaten nuts, so he wouldn't even entertain the thought. but then i thought it would be an interesting experiment. i doled one out, and he sniffed around it, lifted his lips quiveringly to expose his two front teeth, and gingerly took it from me. after some rolling, licking and sniffing, he ate it. my dog ate a pistachio nut! this is alarming on both micro and macro levels. first, bradley is too slow to catch anything so he would probably starve and die in the wild looking for his stainless steel bowl filled with purina one. and in the bigger picture, we, as humans have altered the evolutionary cycle by allowing a dulled species to survive, simply based on our desire to be loved and to have companionship. domesticated dogs have only survived because humans have kept them alive. it's like a weird, parasitic relationship. same goes for cows except we proliferate their species so we can eat them. how morbid!

second issue, also starting with background: there are three categories of friends for me. the first is the (1) epidermal friend (not to be confused with an acquaintance, i don't make it a habit of engaging with people i do not intend to pursue friendship with), (2) the visceral friend and the deepest tier, (3) my soul mates (sorry that this does not fall in line with the anatomy analogy, but i do think that the deepest parts of us are triggered by something outside of the body). the people who know my guts (some in (2) and all of (3)) know that i am not a picky eater whatsoever but that i do expect for my food-related impulses to be met immediately, specifically and completely. this is extreme, i know. but that is only about 15% of the time. so, for 85% of the time, i have no preference as to where or what i eat.

unfortunately, when a (1) or some (2) friends experience the 15%, i am assumed to be like this 100 percent of the time. in addition, the social epidemic these days is to have no opinion on restaurant choice. i don't want to be a traitor to my generation but cannot acquiesce to this disease. so i am usually the one to have an opinion and because i do, it is assumed that i ALWAYS have an opinion.

mistake not, i actually don't care where or what i eat. i've eaten fried rice out of a plastic bag before.

down by the river

i think about death a lot. i like it because it makes things very clear. i also love this song by neil young. i didn't discover it on my own but it's still very meaningful to me.

down by the river
by: neil young

Be on my side,
I'll be on your side,
baby
There is no reason
for you to hide
It's so hard for me
staying here all alone
When you could be
taking me for a ride.

Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.

You take my hand,
I'll take your hand
Together we may get away
This much madness
is too much sorrow
It's impossible
to make it today.

Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.

Be on my side,
I'll be on your side,
baby
There is no reason
for you to hide
It's so hard for me
staying here all alone
When you could be
taking me for a ride.

Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.

rocks for jocks

i don't like the word "finger".

f as in frank

the vast majority of people bathe for the singular purpose of cleanliness. it seems straightforward enough. but i think that allegiance without critical thought is stupid. and anyway, i think that cleanliness is overrated.

so i always try to see every shower as an opportunity to integrate otherwise mundane maintenance tasks. shaving is generally pretty boring but there's something about shaving in the context of the warm continuous stream of water and the intimacy of a small, enclosed space that adds interest and panache.

yesterday i bought new goggles and tested them out by wearing them for the entirety of my shower. by the end, i decided to return them. the day before i clipped my fingernails.

here are my top 5 favorite extra curricular shower/bath activities:

1. getting stains out of clothing or washing delicates
2. brushing my teeth
3. email (yes, like reverend run. yes, i got this idea from him)
4. scrubbing the bath tub
5. luring my dog into the bathroom with the promise of biscuits and then splashing water on him.

sometimes i get carried away and will get out of the tub without accomplishing the requisite shampoo/conditioning and soaping rituals. i am generally very proud of myself when this happens.

i don't generally wear deodorant. but i do keep a stick of tom's of maine in the cabinet because it smells like fruit loops. sometimes you need that.

when i count to three...attack!

what is it about diamonds that seem to veer/divert the will of God?

an observation, living where i do, going to church where i do: single missionaries tend to overwhelmingly be women. sometimes it weirds me out because i wonder if they become missionaries because they don't want to be teachers or something. isn't that harsh? well, that's what i think sometimes. also, when some of these women start to date, God's will changes. they don't feel "called" to go anymore. i guess maybe God is calling them to live in hewitt in a david weekly home or something. . .it pisses me off because i think that being a missionary is a really big deal, not just a default or back up plan for an evangelical, charasmatic christian.

this sort of leads to a current snapshot of my faith. a person's belief in christ is ultimately completed by faith. yesterday, i felt sad because i wasn't sure if my own faith was an extension of being completely convinced, inspired and sold out for the cause of christ or whether it was because, to date, i haven't known anything more compelling. it reminds me of this churchill quote on government: "it has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried." i don't want my faith to be my best option. i've just thought, lately, that God is so seamless and so cohesive and that i am not. that there is no way that i even have a small understanding of Him and that it's truly truly arrogant to think that i've got a better idea of eternity, of heaven, of the creator of the universe, just because of my religious affiliation.

enough of that crazy talk. in the last month, i have developed a very spectacular obsession with peanut butter and english muffins (exclusively and inclusively). i have commenced triathlon training which has left me wanting to conserve my energy outside of my training schedule. . .this is what it might look like: riding my bike for 45 miles (roughly 3 hours) and spending the next two hours in a down comforter cocoon. . .OR swimming a mile in the morning, taking a spin class in the afternoon and then fixing some jasmine tea, closing the door and spending enough time in the bath tub with epsom salts to go through 3 water changes. it's sort of weird, i feel very diametric. and i like it! having to shower twice a day? me no likey.

i have a very fantastic story about the bath tub. i would tell it right now but i am overwhelmed at how my paragraph transitions have been so smooth in this blog. i need a moment.

this post is dedicated to jg, jg, ss and mf. thanks for reading. . .sorry to be away.

a haiku for you

a poem from my friend, ray.

haiku
little moths stagger quivering out of the hedge;
they will die tonight and will never know
that it wasn't spring.
-rainer maria rilke

how many fingers am i holding up?

i do the best double take. i will show you sometime. i will try to remember. or maybe you can remember to ask me. i'm working on my triple take but it can come across as contrived and robotic (both of which are true since i am faking it) but you will be convinced once i have it perfected.

i am blogging at the moment because i am avoiding this pile of purchase orders in front of me.

and now, the song i have been listening to all day, by one of my all time favorite bands, doves.

one of these days

Say something
Anything will do my love
There's a girl on the 'phone
That's the girl who's never home

Say something good
There's a wilderness of hope
That's the girl, on the 'phone
That's the girl who's never home

And your friends they were so close

Say you will stay
Forgot what I came here for
Passing signs on the road
Telling me I'm far from home

Strangers out here
Myself I disappear
That's the killer on a call
That's the man who works alone

Your friends they were so close
One by one they didn't stay
Drift away like rolling sea
One by one they drift away
One of these days
One of these days

And your friends they were so close
One by one they didn't stay
Drift away like rolling seas
Day by day they drift away
And the people that were close
Are the ones you miss the most

One of these days I'll blow away
One of these days I'll blow away

panic at the discography

treatise three and a half, why i really am a sportsfan.

i cannot rattle off statistics (except for some on cal ripken). i have only vague inclinations of when each season for each sport starts. i didn't even know who was playing in the superbowl until i asked, or where it was played, or what time the game started (but at this point in my life, i also couldn't tell you when a single tv show airs or the premise of a single movie playing at the hollywood jewel 16). truth be told, i memorize random lines that i hear on sportscenter so when i'm in sporting environments, i can muster up some credibility (my all time favorites: offense wins games but defense wins championships, there are athletes and then there are baseball players, you build a team from the net out).

but i believe i can appreciate the pace, finesse, athleticism and spirit of "the game" like the drunk, shirtless and body painted guy, because likewise, regardless of experience or preference, any person can appreciate good art or good food or good humor.

i think i just appreciate it in a different way.

some examples of when team sports enter my psyche:

joe carter when i see big guys wearing shirts that are overly snug.

dennis eckersley and jim abbott when i see anyone with non textbook pitching form because they stand out in my mind as pitching anomalies.

herschel walker whenever i see someone with very small ears.

mike ditka when a new collection of missoni debuts. he loves their really ugly sweaters.

dirk nowitzki, yao ming and freaking shawn bradley when i eat spagetti because i wonder if it takes them more time to digest because their organs are longer.

so please don't put me in that box. you know, the one that you want to put the lid on when you hear me talk about my obsession with perforated leather fingerless gloves or how i salivate at the thought of kurt vonnegut's paintings.

i am a sportsfan. maybe not like you, but i am.

off to jail for YOU, mr. crabs

i am preparing to gain a lot of weight.

i mean, in the last few months, i have become a little puny, i admit. but that's not why. i've been hanging out with my newly pregnant friend all day and it's resulted in her (and me, sans child) eating like she's about to hibernate. this morning, breakfast with two friends (add that to my favorite pairings: weekends and going out for breakfast before washing my face) consisted of giant pancakes (one mixed berry and nut, one gingerbread), migas, banana nut french toast, eggs (over easy), sausage, cinammon rolls and lot of green tea. three hours later, preggers started craving bananas. somehow, down the calorically dense rabbit trail, it turned into a need for a banana split. so we went to sonic, only that on the way, she decided that breakfast was "way too long ago" and so a burger and fries accompanied said banana split. some people have convictions about letting friends drink alone. i don't. but i can't let friends eat alone.

so now, i've eaten more than i normally eat in three days and my breathing has become a little labored (much like a pregnant person might be like, only i'm not). i swam vigorously for a long time this morning so maybe that cancels out the mayo on my sonic burger or the icing on the cinammon roll. but probably not much more than that.

but actually, i'm excited. i like that even though i'm skinny, i can put away food like a truck driver (i mean, i assume they eat a lot but now that i think about it, it's probably more that their calories consumed versus expended ratio is pretty disparate). but more than that, i like that my friend is pregnant. i really believe in pregnancy. i'm hoping obama believes in it.

i have always loved kids and have always been inspired by them. i've never known why. but today, i was thinking that children are really important because they give us a second chance at innocence. anne lamott talks about how sometimes, the rediscovery of something is more meaningful than its initial discovery. and the idea of rediscovering innocence is really resonant to me.

sometimes i'm cynical. sometimes i suffer from disbelief. most of the time, i straddle black and white, good and best, duty and free will. but kids aren't even capable of thinking about that stuff and they just are. they abide. it's amazing.

love to les, biggie and buns, can't wait for our bad LDL cholesterol to shoot up together.

melody of a fallen tree

by: windsor for the derby

underneath the leaves where the black birds turn blue,
there’s room for me
there’s room for you
place your ear to the ground you hear a voice, it sings this song,
the whole night long

i am the melody of the fallen tree,
what comes between you and me
so sadly transient, you’d never guess it could ever be
so easy to see

across a frozen field, you hear a call with the urgency,
of the boiling sea
all your hopes and dreams they rise and fall,
secretly, a cacophony

the love that brutality will turn on me you hoped to some day see
patiently
so sadly obvious, you’d never guess it could ever be
so hard to see

*i make no claims on the accuracy of these lyrics!

larry, curly and mo' money mo problems

i have an amazing life.

my family is super close. business is good and i have ambitious vision and plans for the coming year. i belong to a church i am inspired by. i'm in LOVE with God and i see Him work out my faith every day. if i'm ever having a crappy day, there are fifteen to twenty five people (18 in town) who i know would make time for me. the guy i'm dating is one of my very favorite people and one of my closest friends. i read and write every day. i am comfortable in my skin. i have money in my savings account. i love my house, my dog, my roommates. i have good hair five to six days out of the week. i am doing the things that i dreamed about when i was little. my life is better than i ever expected.

and to be honest, secretly, i think i'm just waiting for the bottom to fall out. and as great as my life is, it mostly seems "good" or "ok".

what is it about God's blessings that make me feel so uncomfortable? sometimes it's hard for me to make sense of it because blessings are the manifestation of grace, something that i did nothing and can't do anything to deserve. in the back of my mind, i think that God is blessing me because i did something right. that i prayed enough or gave enough money or memorized enough scripture. so i try to keep doing whatever i've decided God is happy with so that i can earn more blessing. and if i haven't been doing those things regularly, i think that God is blessing what i've put in "reserve". or i detach myself from it completely because i know it's a "gift" that can be taken away at any moment.

and i think i'm just used to struggling. i find meaning, comfort and identity in it. it's been my way of life for as long as i can remember (not that i've had such a hard life, more difficult chapters mixed with overanalytical tendencies) - through relationships, through my business, through my family - and i seem to have forgotten how to receive and enjoy God's blessings for what they are.

and what are blessings, exactly? i don't know, really. i think God can't help himself because He's so in love with us and so FOR us. i think that blessings are a reminder of the cross and Jesus. i think blessings seem frivolous (meaning, they are outside of our basic human needs of food, shelter and water) but in fact are the very thing that feeds and sustains our souls. i think blessings are why atheists can't truly ever believe that God doesn't exist.

on saturday, i attended "market" in dallas to buy goods for the coming months. and from my first appointment, i was anxious. i thought it was because i didn't come as prepared as i usually like to be, but by the fourth or fifth appointment, my stomach would turn every time the words "june delivery" or "early fall" would leave the lips of a sales rep. and my breathing became shallow. and i couldn't concentrate. so i left.

as i drove (to barneys, ha!), i realized that i felt okay thinking about that night or spending eternity in heaven with God but couldn't bear the thought of "next week" or "next season". a friend called and as i told her about my day, she said very simply, "maybe it's because you have something to lose."

i've been in a "you've got nothing to lose" state for so long and it's not that way anymore. and i don't know how to handle it. and the worst part is that, implicitly, i am not absorbing the gift of my salvation.

i know, i'm getting overwrought. i sort of feel like God's saying CHILL OUT AND ACCEPT IT BECAUSE ITS GOING TO GET EVEN BETTER AND YOU WILL MISS MY GLORY.

that's what i'm working on. or not working on. or whatever.

de facto of the matter

worth is an interesting thing.

on one hand, it's qualitative. with some things, you can judge worth pretty easily. for example, a piece of clothing has a fixed monetary worth. the process of making a decision is simple. if you want to get into shape, you will determine if it's worth it to you to invest a certain amount of money, energy and time toward that end.

but on the other hand, sometimes things are just worth it because they just are and you can't say "x is worth it to me so i will do y amount of work" or "i like x enough so i will pay y amount of money". sometimes something is just worth it and you think and act toward that end without boundaries, without minimums or maximums, without fear. and you don't know if and when a time will come when it's not worth it but what is in front of you is compelling enough for you to keep going.

and sometimes those things end up meaning more and sometimes they end up meaning less. but not meaningless or worth less or worthless.

i feel like i'm going around in circles. but not like robert persig in zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance and his discussion on quality. more like i am a newborn colt and am trying to walk for the first time but i have placenta in my eyes and don't know how to use my feet.

30 and still getting carded.

happy birthday to my brother, paul. i can't imagine loving anyone more than i love you.

dollars and sense.

i wrote the following in my journal this morning. at first, i thought i was writing it for someone else. it turns out that maybe God was speaking it over me. whoever is reading, i hope it blesses you.

i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand you. i understand why. i understand. i understand me. i understand. i understand that it hurts. i understand. i understand. i understand peace. i understand. i understand love. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand that you want to be found. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand you want to fly. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand that you choose liberty over death. i understand the cost. i understand. i understand. i understand.i understand that it's never more than you can stand. i understand. i understand. i understand. i understand that i can never leave you.

wooden it be nice

a few of my favorite pairings:

sunny days and open sunroofs
chocolate and nuts
roadtrips and coldplay
rainy days and good books
jeans and blue t shirts
airplane rides and gingerale
cold weather and ugg boots
sailboats and journals
wood and metal
live music and cloves

audioslave trade

two things.

i remember sitting in advanced reporting and writing...or writing for the media...or whatever...staring at the back of a tshirt that the girl sitting in front of me had on. it read: "jeremiah 29:11 - for I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." and all class long, i sat in mild curiosity, wondering which church event, passion conference, or revival this shirt had come from. the clock struck ten fifty and she got up, packed her northface backpack and turned around to leave.

it read: rush 2000.

rush? like for sororities?? does anyone else think that it's oh, slightly conjecturous and a bit emotionally manipulative to try to apply a word from God for an exiled nation to whether freshmen should choose kappa or pi phi on pref day? i was appalled then and continue to be now since i think of that stupid shirt every time i hear that verse. definitely on par with anything benny hinn has ever said (including that bit about the holy spirit machine gun). really.

on a less derisive note...

this morning, i was sitting in my closet spending some quiet time as i try to do every day. my dog, bradley, likes to come in with me and just lay there while i sip, gnosh, write, read, pray, what have you. and i have always interpreted his actions as meaning that he just wanted to be by me, his alpha, at all times. how sweet and loyal and everything else a dog is supposed to be!

so this morning, i forgot to bring in the tea kettle to refill my mug and so when i reached the bottom of my cup, i got up to get more hot water. as soon as i started to head toward the door, bradley jumps up with his ears perked and tail wagging. i open the door, he bolts out and runs into the kitchen. when i reach the kitchen, he is standing by his bowl, eyes intense and body completely still. ignoring this, i refilled my cup and headed back to my closet. bradley followed, laid down and curled up by me as we had been originally. after a while longer, it was time for me to get ready for the day so i picked up my things and stood up. again, bradley (who was completely sleeping and even doing those kicks and pseudo barks that dogs do in REM), did the exact same thing.

to test him, i went back into my closet, stood there for a minute, walked out and started running for the other side of the house. he freaked out and ran after me. as soon as he was in the same room, he turns around and walks out while looking back at me every few seconds as if he wanted me to come with him. i followed. he led me to his bowl.

that was a really long story. and really crazy verb tense issues. sorry. i realized a couple of things. one, bradley is not loyal to me as his leader. he is loyal to me because i have never forgotten to feed him. and more importantly, i extracted a spiritual lesson (go with me here). the thing is that bradley is always like that. he always expects that every time i go to the kitchen, i am going because i either want to give him food, a treat or will make/cook food and drop something. every time i sit on the floor, he runs over to me because he thinks i sat with the sole purpose of petting him. when i go outside, he thinks i am going because i want to play with him.

and i want to be like that with God. i want to absorb the mindset that in every situation, every circumstance, God is just waiting to pour out His blessings on me. that He is ALWAYS for me, always wanting to show me how much He loves me. and not only do i want to think this way, i want to live like it with abandon.

like bradley, except that he has no soul and will not go to heaven.