I found this really interesting woman who is following the Bible literally, or a literally as possible. What got my attention first about this woman, Evans, is that she is writing about gender issues and not motherhood, which I am sort of sick of reading about. That she can think critically about religion intrigues me further.
Following the Bible literally would be both easy and hard for me:
Dressing modesty Generally not a problem for me, but it does make shopping hard. Also, defining modest is kind of a problem. Would this include covering my head, because, if so, I've been failing on that one for a long time.
Submitting to my husband Something I don't have, but submitting to my father would be impossible. Ironically, he would totally disapprove of this project.
Removing myself while menstruating I have friends who would probably love to follow this rule since they basically end up doing it anyway. I would hate this, especially since this doesn't seem to affect my life anywhere near the way it affects others.
Growing my hair out Got this one covered: I hate getting my hair done. Please, I would love an excuse.
Staying silent in churches I dislike that women have to do this, but at the same time, I hate people who talk in church. Church is a time to talk to God; it's the one time of the week most people do it so seriously, they can actually make an effort to not carry on about what someone is wearing.
...Actually, that was not as bad as I thought it would be. The other general rules of the Bible (swearing, honoring elders, staying away from blended fabric) would be harder for me.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Tumblr Crush
I've sort of fallen in love with tumblr as a format. And then I came across this video of the founder, and I fell in love with him. He seems like both a down to earth person and very poised and smart.
Does anyone else think this guy looks like Christopher Gorham?
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Hipster Wedding
I'm not really interested in weddings, but I stumbled across these photos from what looks like one of the most hipster weddings ever, and I kind of fell in love with certain things.
I really love the bridesmaid dresses, even though they didn't seem to flatter all of the women in the party. I want each of these dresses, honestly, just for myself to wear wherever.
And I'm totally a sap for images of people loving each other. I'm trying really hard to resist, but to no avail.
I really love the bridesmaid dresses, even though they didn't seem to flatter all of the women in the party. I want each of these dresses, honestly, just for myself to wear wherever.
And I'm totally a sap for images of people loving each other. I'm trying really hard to resist, but to no avail.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Doctor Who Comics
My love of Doctor Who has been well-documented the past two months. It's gotten to the point where I have been asking "What am I going to do without new episodes?"
Apparently the answer is to read comics featuring Doctor Who combined with various other aspects of pop culture.
Apparently the answer is to read comics featuring Doctor Who combined with various other aspects of pop culture.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The Wild Side
Can I just say how much I love it? I don't know exactly what it is, but I really love it when a woman holds a gun. I especially like it when the man doesn't have one either.
Friday, June 3, 2011
I Believe in a Thing Called Love
Was anyone else in love with this song when they were younger? I remember the first time I heard this song I was completely overtaken by how good it was. It had all the fun of actual rock and roll and the tongue and cheek to make fun of its obvious inspiration. I remember talking about this song with boys at school, and all of us agreeing it was amazing.
Rewatching the video now, I'm struck by how skinny the lead singer is. I find myself worried for someone's health when they're that skinny. And his hair. How had I never noticed this guy's kool-aid pink hair? How the hell did he do it the way he did? (God, don't tell me with kool-aid.)
I love the concept for this music video: rockstars in space fight sea creatures. I would kind of love to see a full movie along these lines, maybe with Jack Black.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
H2O Gate Blues
I love that Scott-Heron mimics the sound of an old school telephone. I love Scott-Heron's voice, which is perfectly for delivering poetry: with swagger but epic, enunciating every word like a news reader.
I love that he draws a parallel between Richard Nixon and two Shakespearean kinds, MacBeth and Richard III.
There are so many great lines. "The election was sabotaged by...trickery and greed." "The water buggers in the Watergate buggers was no news." "Spy movies with the same name and a cast of a thousand." I love how Scott-Heron keeps asking "How blind, America?" Indeed.
Chart Toppers
I fell in love with charts and graphs a couple of years ago when Kasif showed me rap graphs. And then I found great blogs with other people who love the same thing. And now today I found this, and seriously, this makes me smile. Even though I would never dare combine ketchup and mayo. Ketchup and mustard? Totally. But not with mayo.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Advertisement
I have been reading lots of poetry lately, and this cool poem struck my eye. There's so much amazing imagery here. I really love the line about cushioning someone's misfortune with sleep.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Concert on a School Night
Over the weekend Elizabeth fell in love with this band, and since they were playing a show, she wanted to go. She asked a bunch of us to come along, and as I got an invite, I said sure. Jane and Ruth were both going to come, but they didn't show up, so we left without them. I was disappointed, since I like hanging out with both of them. Ruth recently complained to me about Jane's behavior, so I wonder if neither of them showed up because they thought the other one might.
We took a cab, which I about never do. We split it four ways, so the good news is that I only owe Miriam five dollars for the night. (I am miserably bad with change, and didn't have any fives or ones to give her.)
The cab driver was totally awful. He sounded totally confused with Claire told him where to go. He kept repeating it as if he'd never heard of it before, and this makes me nervous. What is it with non-native English speakers repeating everything you say to them? It makes me wonder if they aren't understanding, which would be fine, if they would just ask. There's a guy at the caf that does the same thing. When he first started working there, this would really irk me, but now I mostly ignore it.
It took him a while to find it, and then he sort of just left us in the middle of the street. Um, gee, thanks? Claire told me she thought he was "absolute crap." Amen.
The concert was at this hotel. Actually, I'm honestly not sure if it was a hotel, because the ground level was a very dark bar, with all this wood paneling so it looked super fancy and old, like it would be the sort of place Victorian playboys or Edwardian lords or even flapper girls. I hate the phrase "old-timey" but that's what it reminded me of.
We went up these stairs, where everything was painted a kelly green. At the top was this bizarre room. It was a greenhouse on the roof of the building. The floor had hexagonal white and black tiles, like a bathroom (and again, an old bathroom, like something from the fifties) and Victorian streetlamps in the middle of the room. In one corner, the band was setting up. On the side opposite of where we entered, a very large and fancy bar was being set up.
We were early, which was weird, because Elizabeth thought we were going to be late.
No, instead we spent a lot time sitting around waiting.
The music they played while we waited was all very mod, very forgotten bits of the London 60's. I rather liked it. I used to listen to this music a lot as a young girl, but I haven't for ages.
I feel a little badly about admitting this, but I was not happy with the other sorts of people at this gig. There were a lot of women there, and a lot of them were tall and leggy and clearly could be models. I am not a beautiful person; I felt uglier than normal there. There were also a lot of hipsters there, and I could feel myself roll my eyes internally at them.
Claire asked me where I had gotten my outfit, which was the same one I had worn out a few weeks back when I went out with Erin and Carrie. I told her I had mostly gotten it second hand. The dress, belt and pants were all very cheap, and considering how good I looked, I was pretty pleased with this. The sweater was my Mom's, on loan. And the underwear and panties I had on underneath were mine, along with the socks and tennis shoes. (Aren't you glad to hear that?) "I spent about fifteen dollars on this outfit, overall" I told her, which is pretty damn good. She was impressed.
At this point, a man sidled up to us. He was with a girl. He looked Mediterranean, with the dark eyes and hair and beard. Usually, I would find someone like this attractive, but the skin around his eyes was all red and there was something about him that was off.
For some strange reason Claire felt the need to tell him I was a bit rambunctious. He didn't grin but said "Tell me more." Oh ew. Okay, moving on.
The opening act was this young man from a band who was just playing solo. He was okay. He was playing a very country/blues kind of sound, which normally would be fine, but the crowd clearly wanted to party, and here he was, sort of killing the mood with all these sad songs about girls leaving him. He had one about, I kid you not, driving out on New Orleans during Katrina.
How old is this guy? I thought. He looked my age or slightly older. He was near New Orleans during Katrina?
He was also weirdly egotistically. Like, he had this whole thing where he acted as if he was amazing, and although his playing was quite good, there was nothing about him that was memorable (other than maybe his strange self). He seemed to be playing mostly as a way of pushing himself on the audience.
He talked to much, and Claire didn't like him or his music and she didn't like that he was swearing. At one point, she said something under her breath about the swearing, and it was at the perfect moment, because a hush just happened to fall on the audience right then, and everyone heard her. Claire covered her mouth in embarrassment, and I roared with laughter.
The guy continued playing slow songs. There was something about him that was really awkward, but he also seemed really oblivious about it.
"Did you think you were the best I ever had?" he sang. I found myself thinking that if anyone had him at all, he'd be terribly lucky.
Finally, he realized his slow songs were slowly killing everyone, because midway through one he said "Fuck it. I'm going to play something uptempo." And he did and it was surprisingly, mercifully, better than what had been happening.
Afterwards, he announced he was going to send free zip files with full studio albums from his band to all of us, and curious, I signed up for it. Unfortunately, this meant having to go up and talk to him in person, which honestly, I wasn't really interested in doing. He shook my hand and he seemed okay, though still a little full of himself. He talked to me as if I should immediately think he was a genius, and this annoyed me.
We took a cab, which I about never do. We split it four ways, so the good news is that I only owe Miriam five dollars for the night. (I am miserably bad with change, and didn't have any fives or ones to give her.)
The cab driver was totally awful. He sounded totally confused with Claire told him where to go. He kept repeating it as if he'd never heard of it before, and this makes me nervous. What is it with non-native English speakers repeating everything you say to them? It makes me wonder if they aren't understanding, which would be fine, if they would just ask. There's a guy at the caf that does the same thing. When he first started working there, this would really irk me, but now I mostly ignore it.
It took him a while to find it, and then he sort of just left us in the middle of the street. Um, gee, thanks? Claire told me she thought he was "absolute crap." Amen.
The concert was at this hotel. Actually, I'm honestly not sure if it was a hotel, because the ground level was a very dark bar, with all this wood paneling so it looked super fancy and old, like it would be the sort of place Victorian playboys or Edwardian lords or even flapper girls. I hate the phrase "old-timey" but that's what it reminded me of.
We went up these stairs, where everything was painted a kelly green. At the top was this bizarre room. It was a greenhouse on the roof of the building. The floor had hexagonal white and black tiles, like a bathroom (and again, an old bathroom, like something from the fifties) and Victorian streetlamps in the middle of the room. In one corner, the band was setting up. On the side opposite of where we entered, a very large and fancy bar was being set up.
We were early, which was weird, because Elizabeth thought we were going to be late.
No, instead we spent a lot time sitting around waiting.
The music they played while we waited was all very mod, very forgotten bits of the London 60's. I rather liked it. I used to listen to this music a lot as a young girl, but I haven't for ages.
I feel a little badly about admitting this, but I was not happy with the other sorts of people at this gig. There were a lot of women there, and a lot of them were tall and leggy and clearly could be models. I am not a beautiful person; I felt uglier than normal there. There were also a lot of hipsters there, and I could feel myself roll my eyes internally at them.
Claire asked me where I had gotten my outfit, which was the same one I had worn out a few weeks back when I went out with Erin and Carrie. I told her I had mostly gotten it second hand. The dress, belt and pants were all very cheap, and considering how good I looked, I was pretty pleased with this. The sweater was my Mom's, on loan. And the underwear and panties I had on underneath were mine, along with the socks and tennis shoes. (Aren't you glad to hear that?) "I spent about fifteen dollars on this outfit, overall" I told her, which is pretty damn good. She was impressed.
At this point, a man sidled up to us. He was with a girl. He looked Mediterranean, with the dark eyes and hair and beard. Usually, I would find someone like this attractive, but the skin around his eyes was all red and there was something about him that was off.
For some strange reason Claire felt the need to tell him I was a bit rambunctious. He didn't grin but said "Tell me more." Oh ew. Okay, moving on.
The opening act was this young man from a band who was just playing solo. He was okay. He was playing a very country/blues kind of sound, which normally would be fine, but the crowd clearly wanted to party, and here he was, sort of killing the mood with all these sad songs about girls leaving him. He had one about, I kid you not, driving out on New Orleans during Katrina.
How old is this guy? I thought. He looked my age or slightly older. He was near New Orleans during Katrina?
He was also weirdly egotistically. Like, he had this whole thing where he acted as if he was amazing, and although his playing was quite good, there was nothing about him that was memorable (other than maybe his strange self). He seemed to be playing mostly as a way of pushing himself on the audience.
He talked to much, and Claire didn't like him or his music and she didn't like that he was swearing. At one point, she said something under her breath about the swearing, and it was at the perfect moment, because a hush just happened to fall on the audience right then, and everyone heard her. Claire covered her mouth in embarrassment, and I roared with laughter.
The guy continued playing slow songs. There was something about him that was really awkward, but he also seemed really oblivious about it.
"Did you think you were the best I ever had?" he sang. I found myself thinking that if anyone had him at all, he'd be terribly lucky.
Finally, he realized his slow songs were slowly killing everyone, because midway through one he said "Fuck it. I'm going to play something uptempo." And he did and it was surprisingly, mercifully, better than what had been happening.
Afterwards, he announced he was going to send free zip files with full studio albums from his band to all of us, and curious, I signed up for it. Unfortunately, this meant having to go up and talk to him in person, which honestly, I wasn't really interested in doing. He shook my hand and he seemed okay, though still a little full of himself. He talked to me as if I should immediately think he was a genius, and this annoyed me.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
LBJ Orders Pants
Continuing on my love for LBJ, I found this video of him ordering pants. Lol. This sounds like my Grandpa.
This has got to be one of the most intimate conversations I've ever heard out of a president, describing various body parts. I like that LBJ knows exactly what he wants. I've heard girls talk about clothes in about this much detail.
The only thing that was sort of creeping me out is that they recorded this conversation. Nixon was notorious for his phone conversations, but I didn't realize all president did that.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas Eve
I did go out with my friends last night, but I had trouble sleeping on Christmas Eve's Eve. I get up at eight every day, normally, and I think my brain is still trying to get me up at that time. In addition to that, the neighbor's got this really awful dog. My parents refer to these dogs as yippers, and I probably don't have to tell you what it is about this dog that was waking me up twice in the early morning.
I shouldn't make excuses as to why I was so grumpy. I was trying really hard not to be, but I get depressed at Christmas. Without fail. I can't remember a Christmas after my middle childhood that didn't get me sad somehow.
I tried to get some things done, and then my Mom and sister wanted to go to the hospital to visit my Grandma. I wanted to go too, so I came along.
My Mom and sister decided they needed to go to a craft store, so I got dragged along. While we were in the parking lot, I saw someone I went to school with years ago. I don't think he saw me, thankfully. I don't know what he's doing, and I luckily am not half the loser some of our fellow students have become, but I hate to rely on gloating. Even if we could argue I deserve it.
My Mom and sister spent a long time looking at frames and posters. I think they originally went in just to exchange something and turned into a redecorating of the bathroom. This happens a lot when they shop and I've learned over the year to keep myself entertained. This time I wandered around a bit, focusing on candles. Candles are one of those things I would use if someone else bought them for me. I am loathe to spend the money myself. I am even more loathe to spend my time sticking my nose in a bunch of dusty jars filled with colorful wax.
I realized as they were checking out that it was 1:30 in the afternoon and I still hadn't had anything to eat. I tried to remember my last meal. Madison and I had split a basket of sweet potato fries at the bar last night. That was it. That was my last "meal." I eyed the rootbeer-flavored candies. They were appealing.
We finally got to the hospital. My Grandma was in the room, trying to sleep. She was awake, but she refused to open her eyes, a normal tactic she likes to use. We tried to get her to at least talk to us.
A few weeks ago, Faith had given me one of those headbands with reindeer ears on it. I wore it at a Christmas party, and now I put it on in the hospital. Even though my mood was souring, I was trying not to get upset.
When my Grandma finally opened her eyes for more than a minute, she said "What the hell is that on your head?"
That's what she's like. On a good day.
She then decided she didn't want to open her eyes. Then she was moaning for us to give her water to drink. She's recently taken to ordering us to give her water, even though she can get it herself. She also started ordering me around to wipe her face. We're trying to get her out of the hospital and she won't do anything to help herself, since they try to determine if she can take of herself to place her in the appropriate kind of home.
I went to the cafeteria to try to find something to eat. I wandered around and saw nothing I wanted. I have had so much sugar lately just the thought made me sick.
I went back to my Grandma's room. They were trying again to wake her. She wasn't cooperating. I suggested maybe splashing a little water in her face, which my Mom did. My sister and I tickled her toes. This mostly didn't work.
She has a tv in her room, and I started looking around. I found Criminal Minds, and this cheered me up disproportionately. I squealed. The sound wasn't that loud, but it scared my Grandma enough that she kept her eyes open for five minutes.
I have recently taking to calling my love, Matthew Gray Gubler, the hottness. Obviously if you've seen him, you don't need me to explain why I call him this. My parents have started teasing me, because they think it's ridiculous.
I tried to watch my show. Nate texted me, saying Merry Christmas. I was a little surprised, since Nate is Jewish, but I considered that maybe his family did secular Christmas celebrations. We chatted a little via text messaging. He said that his family was having tacos for dinner, which made me laugh and made me realize they really weren't doing anything special. (Which is fine, because really, they don't have to.)
Because Nate is part of a particular group of friends, I started thinking about those people. I really wished I was celebrating Christmas with one (or more) of them instead of being stuck in this hospital, trying to bring Christmas cheer to my Grandma who not only was rudely ignoring us but not even trying to take care of herself enough to get out of the hospital.
I texted Paul. I almost called Paul to tell him that I missed him and explain this recent episode of my life. He puts up with a lot from me.
But I hesitated to call. Paul's got family too, probably lucky enough to have the unselfish kind, and interrupting their Christmas celebrations is unfair. I texted him "Merry Christmas." Maybe if I was lucky he'd call me? If not it meant he was probably busy.
In the meantime, my family was in and out of the room, taking care of things for my Grandma. I was left in there to watch her. A nurse came in and started measuring her vitals. My Grandma opened her eyes long enough to insult the woman's hair, which was tied back in a ponytail with a headband. It looked absolutely fine, but my Grandma does this all the time, and this is part of the reason we have a hard time getting her help: no one wants to do something extra for an old woman who showers abuse on people. I berated her for saying that.
Then someone else came in to change her diaper and she peed all over the bed while all the sheets were gone.
I shouldn't make excuses as to why I was so grumpy. I was trying really hard not to be, but I get depressed at Christmas. Without fail. I can't remember a Christmas after my middle childhood that didn't get me sad somehow.
I tried to get some things done, and then my Mom and sister wanted to go to the hospital to visit my Grandma. I wanted to go too, so I came along.
My Mom and sister decided they needed to go to a craft store, so I got dragged along. While we were in the parking lot, I saw someone I went to school with years ago. I don't think he saw me, thankfully. I don't know what he's doing, and I luckily am not half the loser some of our fellow students have become, but I hate to rely on gloating. Even if we could argue I deserve it.
My Mom and sister spent a long time looking at frames and posters. I think they originally went in just to exchange something and turned into a redecorating of the bathroom. This happens a lot when they shop and I've learned over the year to keep myself entertained. This time I wandered around a bit, focusing on candles. Candles are one of those things I would use if someone else bought them for me. I am loathe to spend the money myself. I am even more loathe to spend my time sticking my nose in a bunch of dusty jars filled with colorful wax.
I realized as they were checking out that it was 1:30 in the afternoon and I still hadn't had anything to eat. I tried to remember my last meal. Madison and I had split a basket of sweet potato fries at the bar last night. That was it. That was my last "meal." I eyed the rootbeer-flavored candies. They were appealing.
We finally got to the hospital. My Grandma was in the room, trying to sleep. She was awake, but she refused to open her eyes, a normal tactic she likes to use. We tried to get her to at least talk to us.
A few weeks ago, Faith had given me one of those headbands with reindeer ears on it. I wore it at a Christmas party, and now I put it on in the hospital. Even though my mood was souring, I was trying not to get upset.
When my Grandma finally opened her eyes for more than a minute, she said "What the hell is that on your head?"
That's what she's like. On a good day.
She then decided she didn't want to open her eyes. Then she was moaning for us to give her water to drink. She's recently taken to ordering us to give her water, even though she can get it herself. She also started ordering me around to wipe her face. We're trying to get her out of the hospital and she won't do anything to help herself, since they try to determine if she can take of herself to place her in the appropriate kind of home.
I went to the cafeteria to try to find something to eat. I wandered around and saw nothing I wanted. I have had so much sugar lately just the thought made me sick.
I went back to my Grandma's room. They were trying again to wake her. She wasn't cooperating. I suggested maybe splashing a little water in her face, which my Mom did. My sister and I tickled her toes. This mostly didn't work.
She has a tv in her room, and I started looking around. I found Criminal Minds, and this cheered me up disproportionately. I squealed. The sound wasn't that loud, but it scared my Grandma enough that she kept her eyes open for five minutes.
I tried to watch my show. Nate texted me, saying Merry Christmas. I was a little surprised, since Nate is Jewish, but I considered that maybe his family did secular Christmas celebrations. We chatted a little via text messaging. He said that his family was having tacos for dinner, which made me laugh and made me realize they really weren't doing anything special. (Which is fine, because really, they don't have to.)
Because Nate is part of a particular group of friends, I started thinking about those people. I really wished I was celebrating Christmas with one (or more) of them instead of being stuck in this hospital, trying to bring Christmas cheer to my Grandma who not only was rudely ignoring us but not even trying to take care of herself enough to get out of the hospital.
I texted Paul. I almost called Paul to tell him that I missed him and explain this recent episode of my life. He puts up with a lot from me.
But I hesitated to call. Paul's got family too, probably lucky enough to have the unselfish kind, and interrupting their Christmas celebrations is unfair. I texted him "Merry Christmas." Maybe if I was lucky he'd call me? If not it meant he was probably busy.
In the meantime, my family was in and out of the room, taking care of things for my Grandma. I was left in there to watch her. A nurse came in and started measuring her vitals. My Grandma opened her eyes long enough to insult the woman's hair, which was tied back in a ponytail with a headband. It looked absolutely fine, but my Grandma does this all the time, and this is part of the reason we have a hard time getting her help: no one wants to do something extra for an old woman who showers abuse on people. I berated her for saying that.
Then someone else came in to change her diaper and she peed all over the bed while all the sheets were gone.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Cocorific
I started watching Conan back in middle school, back when they would play him in the evenings before the previous night's Daily Show. I loved him and spent a lot of time thinking he would make a great boyfriend just because he'd be random and strange all the time, but in an endearing way, not in the creepy or embarrassing way that sometimes happens.
So, yeah, I'm excited for Conan to be bringing sexy back, even if I don't really have a tv right now.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Working Women
At work two days ago, a man came in looking for a product that my Grandfather used to love. My Grandfather has been dead for many years now, and hearing this man talk about, who was also almost certainly a Grandfather himself, made me strangely sad.
I don't think about my Grandfather too often, and usually when I do, it's not in a way that affects my mood.
It makes me so happy when people in the store are happy or nice to me. Yesterday, a woman named Jenny came in who gushed over our stuff, telling me how much she liked it. She talked my ear off about her life, telling me about her sons in their late twenties and what they like to drink and mentioning that her husband has cancer. She told me all sorts of things that I never knew.
I'm not sure why, but I relate well to random older women. Everyone talks about age gaps and generational differences, and I'm sure there are some, but the only people I consistently feel that with are my parents. Otherwise, I've had plenty of opportunities over the years to do things like giggle over how much we like Keeping Up Appearances or beans on toast or chatting about creative writing. I like old ladies, which makes me confident that one day I'm going to be a great old lady.
I told Jenny she should considering working there, since we're hiring. At first she was like "Oh, no," and then I could see the idea forming in the back of her mind, like watching a flower bloom in real time. I suspect she probably will consider it, and if she does work there, I'll be happy for the coworker.
In other work news, I came in yesterday to find Ashley at the counter (which we're not suppose to do unless we're doing something that specifically has to be done behind the counter) reading a book (which I've never heard anyone say we couldn't do, but I've never heard anyone say we could.) I decided not to comment on the book situation, because it's not my business and because I probably wouldn't want Ashley telling me how to do my job.
Right before she left, Ashley turned to me. "Don't you have a book?"
I did, actually, in my purse, but that's because I try not to go anywhere now without carrying some reading material along. But I didn't want to get it out and I sort of skirted around it.
"There's nothing else to do," she commented. "We can't clean anymore and all the stock's out."
That was true, though I managed to find stuff to do. I flipped over a puzzle and made in upside down, which was challenging, but I managed to muddle through it after two hours. And then, after that, I worked on replacing a few extra things sitting in back by putting them on the shelves. It didn't even occur to me to get a book.
I don't think about my Grandfather too often, and usually when I do, it's not in a way that affects my mood.
It makes me so happy when people in the store are happy or nice to me. Yesterday, a woman named Jenny came in who gushed over our stuff, telling me how much she liked it. She talked my ear off about her life, telling me about her sons in their late twenties and what they like to drink and mentioning that her husband has cancer. She told me all sorts of things that I never knew.
I'm not sure why, but I relate well to random older women. Everyone talks about age gaps and generational differences, and I'm sure there are some, but the only people I consistently feel that with are my parents. Otherwise, I've had plenty of opportunities over the years to do things like giggle over how much we like Keeping Up Appearances or beans on toast or chatting about creative writing. I like old ladies, which makes me confident that one day I'm going to be a great old lady.
I told Jenny she should considering working there, since we're hiring. At first she was like "Oh, no," and then I could see the idea forming in the back of her mind, like watching a flower bloom in real time. I suspect she probably will consider it, and if she does work there, I'll be happy for the coworker.
In other work news, I came in yesterday to find Ashley at the counter (which we're not suppose to do unless we're doing something that specifically has to be done behind the counter) reading a book (which I've never heard anyone say we couldn't do, but I've never heard anyone say we could.) I decided not to comment on the book situation, because it's not my business and because I probably wouldn't want Ashley telling me how to do my job.
Right before she left, Ashley turned to me. "Don't you have a book?"
I did, actually, in my purse, but that's because I try not to go anywhere now without carrying some reading material along. But I didn't want to get it out and I sort of skirted around it.
"There's nothing else to do," she commented. "We can't clean anymore and all the stock's out."
That was true, though I managed to find stuff to do. I flipped over a puzzle and made in upside down, which was challenging, but I managed to muddle through it after two hours. And then, after that, I worked on replacing a few extra things sitting in back by putting them on the shelves. It didn't even occur to me to get a book.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Dinner at Jimmy's
I stood in Jimmy's room, trying to ignore all the signs of life that I would normally find interesting. I was on the phone with my Dad.
"Can I come home a little later?" I asked. I figured the answer would be no, because my Grandma was in the hospital, again. And to some degree, rightly so.
"Why?"
"I got invited to a brunch with some friends."
"Okay."
I was relieved. I wanted to squeeze out every last drop of goodness from this trip, especially since it looked like I wouldn't be coming home to anything good. I had a bunch of business to attend to immediately coming home.
This trip ended up being far more stressful than I thought it would be, mostly because the problems that I had last semester (my Grandma being sick, friends needing support, my various boy problems) all flared up again. Mostly, it made me think that for all my trying to move on, nothing has really changed yet. It's been a disappointment, to be honest. I steeled myself to go back out to everyone.
Luckily, no one asked what the phone call was about. Maybe, given what they know about me, they could have already guessed.
Paul was working on shredding cheese for our meal. Jimmy was cutting up onions. There was nothing for me to do (though I offered to pay for my bit of the meal), so I watched.
"That's some great cutting," I told Jimmy. It looked like the moves you see on one of those cooking programs.
Jimmy didn't say anything, as usual.
"Jimmy won't take a compliment," I explained to Ben, who was sitting at Jimmy's computer in the living room area. Ben laughed. "I'm working on him."
Ben, meanwhile, was watching YouTube videos, everyone's favorite way to blow off time. He told us he really liked Old Spice commercials, which sort of baffles me, because there's something gross and sleazy about so many of them. We found one featuring everyone's favorite child star, Neil Patrick Harris.
Then Paul got on my political hero, Robert Byrd. After looking awhile, we found what I consider his best speech, where he tells people he's older. Ben watched it and said it was a really good speech.
Once Jimmy finished the dinner, we ate. It was delicious. Everyone fell silent as we ate. Jimmy said that was a huge compliment in itself. I'd be happy to have Jimmy cook for me all the time.
Ben, it turns out, is a fan of Doctor Who. Perhaps someone tipped him off to my love about it, because we got talking about it. He was telling me he had just watched "The Lodger."
"That's the episode right before the two episode season finale." Don't be surprised by this recall of mine. I often am the one correcting people's knowledge of the show.
They were apparently showing that first episode of the finale, which I told him was good. He was all baffled by my geekiness. Get used to it, I thought.
We then started on the dishes.
"Can I come home a little later?" I asked. I figured the answer would be no, because my Grandma was in the hospital, again. And to some degree, rightly so.
"Why?"
"I got invited to a brunch with some friends."
"Okay."
I was relieved. I wanted to squeeze out every last drop of goodness from this trip, especially since it looked like I wouldn't be coming home to anything good. I had a bunch of business to attend to immediately coming home.
This trip ended up being far more stressful than I thought it would be, mostly because the problems that I had last semester (my Grandma being sick, friends needing support, my various boy problems) all flared up again. Mostly, it made me think that for all my trying to move on, nothing has really changed yet. It's been a disappointment, to be honest. I steeled myself to go back out to everyone.
Luckily, no one asked what the phone call was about. Maybe, given what they know about me, they could have already guessed.
Paul was working on shredding cheese for our meal. Jimmy was cutting up onions. There was nothing for me to do (though I offered to pay for my bit of the meal), so I watched.
"That's some great cutting," I told Jimmy. It looked like the moves you see on one of those cooking programs.
Jimmy didn't say anything, as usual.
"Jimmy won't take a compliment," I explained to Ben, who was sitting at Jimmy's computer in the living room area. Ben laughed. "I'm working on him."
Ben, meanwhile, was watching YouTube videos, everyone's favorite way to blow off time. He told us he really liked Old Spice commercials, which sort of baffles me, because there's something gross and sleazy about so many of them. We found one featuring everyone's favorite child star, Neil Patrick Harris.
Then Paul got on my political hero, Robert Byrd. After looking awhile, we found what I consider his best speech, where he tells people he's older. Ben watched it and said it was a really good speech.
Once Jimmy finished the dinner, we ate. It was delicious. Everyone fell silent as we ate. Jimmy said that was a huge compliment in itself. I'd be happy to have Jimmy cook for me all the time.
"That's the episode right before the two episode season finale." Don't be surprised by this recall of mine. I often am the one correcting people's knowledge of the show.
They were apparently showing that first episode of the finale, which I told him was good. He was all baffled by my geekiness. Get used to it, I thought.
We then started on the dishes.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Out With Friends
I went out last night with some of my friends. We first went over to one of the local coffee shops for treats and conversation.
One of the things that's always a bit of a problem is volume. Tori and Ashley are particularly loud. (You know things are bad when I think people are loud.) There were a few brief moments where this looked like it was going to be a problem, but it was mostly okay.
I was surprised by Tori and Ashley. Ashley usually does not like being told that she is wrong (she's picked fights with me over very little) but Tori basically schooled her in Islam last night and Ashley didn't react as badly as she usually does. Ashley's in anthropology, and anthropology has a bad reputation for being racist, misogynistic, homophobic, etc., and even though Ashley doesn't go for the racism and homophobia, I have heard her say some pretty misogynistic things on occasion. This time, she said some pretty awful things about Muslims, and I sometimes wonder how it is that we grew up in the same community. We knew a lot of the same people, including a lot of Muslims (we live in an area where there is a high population of "Middle Easteners") and yet Ashley has a totally different (i.e. mostly negative) point of view about them. But Ashley didn't do as she always does (repeat herself until you give up), so maybe that's a sign that she's changing?
I talked mostly to Michael, Lisa's boyfriend. He's a really nice guy, but I always feel like he's hitting on me.
This brings up one of the many problems I have. Apparently, I am too nice to guys. Josie says that I make people feel way too good about themselves and Dan has commented before that I am easy to talk to. Josie believes that a lot of guys think that I'm interested in them because of the way I behave around them. There are a lot of guys I'm interested in, but never, it seems, the ones who are interested in me.
The other problem is that I'm not sure how to strike a middle ground between being nice and being nasty. I know how to tell someone off (some of my readers have seen me do it), but I (apparently) don't know how to be normal around people, not overly nice and not mean.
So, with Michael things are always a little weird, because well, Lisa's right there. And I'm honestly not interested in him, and not just because of Lisa. I met Michael before Lisa did, and I decided against him. And I really don't want to make Lisa unhappy. She's been very nice to me over our seven years of friendship, and it feels silly to throw that away, especially over a boy.
Later, we walked over to a store to do a little shopping. While walking there, some one was playing "Boom Boom Pow" and I danced in the parking lot to it. (You can all blame Gary for getting me into that song. Boy is a much better dancer than he looks.)
We went to look through cards, which is something that is super foreign to me these days. In my family, we're not allowed to buy cards, because my Mom makes them. So I haven't been in a card rack in almost a decade. I mostly made terrible suggestions to Ashley, like saying she should get a Grandfather-themed Father's Day card for her Dad.
Lisa is a cute whore, and she got really excited when she saw cards that were from Hoops and Yoyo. Am I totally out of the loop here? I've never even heard of Hoops and Yoyo before, though their website has so much sound stuff on it. Lisa was giggling and carrying on about how cute they were, especially this one slug character. I honestly don't ever worry about buying Lisa a present. If it's even a little bit cute, she'd probably love it.
One of the things that's always a bit of a problem is volume. Tori and Ashley are particularly loud. (You know things are bad when I think people are loud.) There were a few brief moments where this looked like it was going to be a problem, but it was mostly okay.
I was surprised by Tori and Ashley. Ashley usually does not like being told that she is wrong (she's picked fights with me over very little) but Tori basically schooled her in Islam last night and Ashley didn't react as badly as she usually does. Ashley's in anthropology, and anthropology has a bad reputation for being racist, misogynistic, homophobic, etc., and even though Ashley doesn't go for the racism and homophobia, I have heard her say some pretty misogynistic things on occasion. This time, she said some pretty awful things about Muslims, and I sometimes wonder how it is that we grew up in the same community. We knew a lot of the same people, including a lot of Muslims (we live in an area where there is a high population of "Middle Easteners") and yet Ashley has a totally different (i.e. mostly negative) point of view about them. But Ashley didn't do as she always does (repeat herself until you give up), so maybe that's a sign that she's changing?
I talked mostly to Michael, Lisa's boyfriend. He's a really nice guy, but I always feel like he's hitting on me.
This brings up one of the many problems I have. Apparently, I am too nice to guys. Josie says that I make people feel way too good about themselves and Dan has commented before that I am easy to talk to. Josie believes that a lot of guys think that I'm interested in them because of the way I behave around them. There are a lot of guys I'm interested in, but never, it seems, the ones who are interested in me.
The other problem is that I'm not sure how to strike a middle ground between being nice and being nasty. I know how to tell someone off (some of my readers have seen me do it), but I (apparently) don't know how to be normal around people, not overly nice and not mean.
So, with Michael things are always a little weird, because well, Lisa's right there. And I'm honestly not interested in him, and not just because of Lisa. I met Michael before Lisa did, and I decided against him. And I really don't want to make Lisa unhappy. She's been very nice to me over our seven years of friendship, and it feels silly to throw that away, especially over a boy.
Later, we walked over to a store to do a little shopping. While walking there, some one was playing "Boom Boom Pow" and I danced in the parking lot to it. (You can all blame Gary for getting me into that song. Boy is a much better dancer than he looks.)
We went to look through cards, which is something that is super foreign to me these days. In my family, we're not allowed to buy cards, because my Mom makes them. So I haven't been in a card rack in almost a decade. I mostly made terrible suggestions to Ashley, like saying she should get a Grandfather-themed Father's Day card for her Dad.
Lisa is a cute whore, and she got really excited when she saw cards that were from Hoops and Yoyo. Am I totally out of the loop here? I've never even heard of Hoops and Yoyo before, though their website has so much sound stuff on it. Lisa was giggling and carrying on about how cute they were, especially this one slug character. I honestly don't ever worry about buying Lisa a present. If it's even a little bit cute, she'd probably love it.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
William II in 1166
Just got back this evening from a study group at the library for the final tomorrow. Elizabeth, who is such a nice girl and clearly one of the better things happening in the history department, organized this. We basically went over a ton of stuff. I was only there for two hours, and we still didn't go over everything, just mostly everything. Plus, there are always discrepancies between our notes. At one point, Elizabeth mentioned William II doing something in 1166, and I was hella confused.
Cameron, one of the other smart kids in the class, mentioned that the upcoming medieval conference was only a week away. (!) I knew Kalamazoo had a conference in the summer, I just didn't know it was going to be so soon. I would really like to go, but I don't know if I could justify it, especially to my parents, who are ignorant of my medieval love.
I'm also a tad annoyed, because I realize the dumbest kid in class probably has a crush on me. I've caught him staring at me with those big wondering eyes that boys get sometimes. Why why why why WHY does this always happen? I can get a guy's attention, it's just always the wrong guy. Why can't a guy I admire and love feel the same way about me? Why is it always the ones I think are worthless?
I feel like God is taunting me.
Cameron, one of the other smart kids in the class, mentioned that the upcoming medieval conference was only a week away. (!) I knew Kalamazoo had a conference in the summer, I just didn't know it was going to be so soon. I would really like to go, but I don't know if I could justify it, especially to my parents, who are ignorant of my medieval love.
I'm also a tad annoyed, because I realize the dumbest kid in class probably has a crush on me. I've caught him staring at me with those big wondering eyes that boys get sometimes. Why why why why WHY does this always happen? I can get a guy's attention, it's just always the wrong guy. Why can't a guy I admire and love feel the same way about me? Why is it always the ones I think are worthless?
I feel like God is taunting me.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Afrobeat
Why couldn't I have taken a music appreciation class in college? We had a second music day in my African history class, and it was a blast. Today, we concentrated on Afrobeat music while talking about Nigeria.
Basically, Afrobeat was developed by Fela (1938-1997), the "king" of Afrobeat." He was from a prominent family. His grandfather was J.J. Ransome Kuti (1855-1930), an early Christian convert and church leader. Kuti was a notorious pain in the ass to British authorities, using religion as a way to keep Nigeria's colonizers honest. Fela's father was Ransome Kuti, who founded the Nigerian Union of Teachers in 1931, arguing that people need more access to education. After the second World War, Fela's father was recruited to join a London commission on higher education in Africa. His mother was a leading feminist activist and nationalist. In the 1940s, she organized 20,000 women to protest taxes and abuse by chiefs, who were notorious for stealing property.
While in London, Fela began playing gigs, then enrolled in the Trinity School of Music. Fela began playing African jazz, then blended Nigerian highlife and Juju music. He was also influenced by the awesomeness that was Bob Marley, Bruce Lee and Miles Davis. He sang it what is called a pidgin language, meaning it blended several different languages. This particular pidgin is the lingua franca in West Africa. Fela started his own clubs in Laos, then the capital of Nigeria, where he would play all night long. All of his music is political, and he clearly saw his music as a way to educate people and encourage them to be proud of their African identities. While in the U.S., he interacted with the Black Panther Movement and Sandra Isidore, who introduced him to radical literature.
Once again, the only thing I don't like is that Fela wasn't much for feminism or women, even though his mother was a leading feminist. I keep hoping as I learn about Africa, that some great women and men will promote women, but it's been few and far between. I guess this just means I'm going to have to love those few who do even more.
I'm a huge fan of American jazz and funk, so this is totally my style. I don't like every song of Fela's I've heard, but I've posted some of my favorites here. I actually think that I like him better when he doesn't sing. I would love to see music videos or this kind of music used in movies, because there's something lovely about it. It's impossible to listen to and not want to dance to, even if it's just a little swaying here and there. Of course, the lyrics are important since they articulate Fela's political beliefs and are the primary education tool.
Basically, Afrobeat was developed by Fela (1938-1997), the "king" of Afrobeat." He was from a prominent family. His grandfather was J.J. Ransome Kuti (1855-1930), an early Christian convert and church leader. Kuti was a notorious pain in the ass to British authorities, using religion as a way to keep Nigeria's colonizers honest. Fela's father was Ransome Kuti, who founded the Nigerian Union of Teachers in 1931, arguing that people need more access to education. After the second World War, Fela's father was recruited to join a London commission on higher education in Africa. His mother was a leading feminist activist and nationalist. In the 1940s, she organized 20,000 women to protest taxes and abuse by chiefs, who were notorious for stealing property.
While in London, Fela began playing gigs, then enrolled in the Trinity School of Music. Fela began playing African jazz, then blended Nigerian highlife and Juju music. He was also influenced by the awesomeness that was Bob Marley, Bruce Lee and Miles Davis. He sang it what is called a pidgin language, meaning it blended several different languages. This particular pidgin is the lingua franca in West Africa. Fela started his own clubs in Laos, then the capital of Nigeria, where he would play all night long. All of his music is political, and he clearly saw his music as a way to educate people and encourage them to be proud of their African identities. While in the U.S., he interacted with the Black Panther Movement and Sandra Isidore, who introduced him to radical literature.
Once again, the only thing I don't like is that Fela wasn't much for feminism or women, even though his mother was a leading feminist. I keep hoping as I learn about Africa, that some great women and men will promote women, but it's been few and far between. I guess this just means I'm going to have to love those few who do even more.
I'm a huge fan of American jazz and funk, so this is totally my style. I don't like every song of Fela's I've heard, but I've posted some of my favorites here. I actually think that I like him better when he doesn't sing. I would love to see music videos or this kind of music used in movies, because there's something lovely about it. It's impossible to listen to and not want to dance to, even if it's just a little swaying here and there. Of course, the lyrics are important since they articulate Fela's political beliefs and are the primary education tool.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Take Only What You Need
Tonight was one of my favorite kinds of night; one where I see a lot of the people I love. I really love the night life. There's something perfect about having quiet conversations in rooms, down hallways, in the street, on couches, on balconies, in doorways, on the floor. There's something nice about wandering around in the night, knowing that, despite the drama, there's always this quiet.
I went, among other things, to a party tonight for Erin's birthday. It was tons of fun. At one point, they were playing MGMT's "Kids." My friend Elena and I danced to it, and there was something beautiful in that moment. I find that one of the places I am closest to God is when I'm dancing to the perfect song at the moment. This was definitely one of those times where I could feel God inside and out, moving through and all around me. Life is not perfect, not ever, but it can have perfect moments, and this is one of them.
Now, as I sit here and think about my time here, I know I'll miss these nights. I feel like this is happiness: knowing that you have a home and that there's a family there who loves you. Whether or not they leave the light on hoping you knock.
I went, among other things, to a party tonight for Erin's birthday. It was tons of fun. At one point, they were playing MGMT's "Kids." My friend Elena and I danced to it, and there was something beautiful in that moment. I find that one of the places I am closest to God is when I'm dancing to the perfect song at the moment. This was definitely one of those times where I could feel God inside and out, moving through and all around me. Life is not perfect, not ever, but it can have perfect moments, and this is one of them.
Now, as I sit here and think about my time here, I know I'll miss these nights. I feel like this is happiness: knowing that you have a home and that there's a family there who loves you. Whether or not they leave the light on hoping you knock.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Picnic Flower
I complained last month about not having the sort of "last goodbye" events that you have in high school when you graduate. This morning, I got an email from the honors college about a picnic for upcoming graduates. So maybe I was wrong, maybe there are things going on.
I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm not sure if I want to go. Not because of the event itself, but because of the people. The people I really would like to hang out with aren't graduating seniors in the honors college, so they probably won't be around. And there are potentially people who are going to be there who I don't want to see. Not even people I hate, just people who I've recently fallen out of favor with. What's painful about those people is that I don't hate them, not a little bit, not at all, I really love them, but being around them just makes me sad because of circumstances.
I'm afraid, frankly, of going to this because I don't want to be an awkward wallflower at a picnic. I want to feel like I'm wanted there, at least by someone.
It is times like these where I think "I wish I had a boyfriend." The moment I think that, I always feel terrible. You're supposed to be with people because you love them and they love you, not because they will somehow magically fix problems for you. No one would appreciate feeling like the person they loved was with them because they were lonely, etc. They want to feel wanted for themselves and themselves alone. But at the same time, there are people in my life who always make me feel comfortable and safe and who I want at my side, and in more than just a platonic way. When I start dating again, if I start dating again, I want it to be for the right reasons, not the wrong ones.
Juicebox mentioned to me today that I should enjoy the free food. Maybe that's what I'll try to do Sunday.
I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm not sure if I want to go. Not because of the event itself, but because of the people. The people I really would like to hang out with aren't graduating seniors in the honors college, so they probably won't be around. And there are potentially people who are going to be there who I don't want to see. Not even people I hate, just people who I've recently fallen out of favor with. What's painful about those people is that I don't hate them, not a little bit, not at all, I really love them, but being around them just makes me sad because of circumstances.
I'm afraid, frankly, of going to this because I don't want to be an awkward wallflower at a picnic. I want to feel like I'm wanted there, at least by someone.
It is times like these where I think "I wish I had a boyfriend." The moment I think that, I always feel terrible. You're supposed to be with people because you love them and they love you, not because they will somehow magically fix problems for you. No one would appreciate feeling like the person they loved was with them because they were lonely, etc. They want to feel wanted for themselves and themselves alone. But at the same time, there are people in my life who always make me feel comfortable and safe and who I want at my side, and in more than just a platonic way. When I start dating again, if I start dating again, I want it to be for the right reasons, not the wrong ones.
Juicebox mentioned to me today that I should enjoy the free food. Maybe that's what I'll try to do Sunday.
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