is a big fat baby....
if you ask me.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Back to Work
Well...I'm off to my first day back of auditions in the Big Apple. It's 7:14 AM as I type. I woke up at 6 AM. For all of you who know me, you know that's way too early. But I did it. And here I go.
I'm trying to look at this like I'm lucky for the opportunity to live in this wonderful city and audition for Broadway. That I would hate for one beautiful day to go by without me thankful for being in it.
That's how I'm trying to look at today.
The other side of me wants to crawl back in bed and refuse to once again be the little fish swimming in this great big ocean, and instead walk the park, eat ice cream, and watch tennis. Oooh...tennis...I need to DVR that today.
But I'm up, and it's a beautiful day.
Wish me luck, folks.
***Update: 3:01 PM
Didn't get seen at three different auditions today. Crazy Equity people decided to get out of bed, too. See, the way it works for us non-union folk, is...you get up early, stand in line, and sign up on a piece of paper. That piece of paper is incredibly important, and the number you are on the list is incredibly important as well. Once all the Equity members have been seen at the audition, the monitor starts calling off the non-Eq list. If you're gone when you're name is called, you go to the end of the list. So best stay put and read a book or jibber jabber with a friend. Today there were tons of Equity people, and I signed up and waited, but didn't get an audition. It happens. And the sucky part is that when the auditions are at the Equity building, like they were today, you have to wait in the lobby outside the Equity lounge. They don't even let you go through to use the restroom. Only if you're name is called off the list can you enter the Equity chamber. And use the bathroom. Otherwise, it's the McDonald's on Broadway and 46th. Suckers.
I'm trying to look at this like I'm lucky for the opportunity to live in this wonderful city and audition for Broadway. That I would hate for one beautiful day to go by without me thankful for being in it.
That's how I'm trying to look at today.
The other side of me wants to crawl back in bed and refuse to once again be the little fish swimming in this great big ocean, and instead walk the park, eat ice cream, and watch tennis. Oooh...tennis...I need to DVR that today.
But I'm up, and it's a beautiful day.
Wish me luck, folks.
***Update: 3:01 PM
Didn't get seen at three different auditions today. Crazy Equity people decided to get out of bed, too. See, the way it works for us non-union folk, is...you get up early, stand in line, and sign up on a piece of paper. That piece of paper is incredibly important, and the number you are on the list is incredibly important as well. Once all the Equity members have been seen at the audition, the monitor starts calling off the non-Eq list. If you're gone when you're name is called, you go to the end of the list. So best stay put and read a book or jibber jabber with a friend. Today there were tons of Equity people, and I signed up and waited, but didn't get an audition. It happens. And the sucky part is that when the auditions are at the Equity building, like they were today, you have to wait in the lobby outside the Equity lounge. They don't even let you go through to use the restroom. Only if you're name is called off the list can you enter the Equity chamber. And use the bathroom. Otherwise, it's the McDonald's on Broadway and 46th. Suckers.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Just a list
A list of things I've done in the past two weeks:
Ate
Sat in the living room with the in-laws
Slept late
Sat outside and watched the hummingbirds
Ate
Sat with my best friend right before and right after she gave birth...for the first time
Held a newborn
Blogged
Loaded pics into Facebook
Ate
Beat my parents in Spades TWO TIMES out of three which makes Seth and I the champions
Played tennis
Watched tennis
Ate
Played tennis again
And again
Watched No Country for Old Men, what's up with that title anyway?
Watched I Am Legend
Helped Mom cook
Ate
Watched a movie I've never heard of before from the 80's with Martin Sheen called Believers.
Watched the end of River Wild. Love that movie
Played Apples to Apples with my family.
Made Appletini's for the first time ever. Think I made 'em a little strong...
Held my dog
Read the newspaper
Drank lots of coffee
Ate
Packed three months into two bags
Cleaned out my purse
Talked to my brother and his wife about their calling to be missionaries. They leave next year.
Got a spa pedicure with mom and my sister-in-law
Talked to my in-laws about politics
Made brownies...twice.
Ate mint chocolate chip ice cream...more than twice.
And now we leave for New York. And I feel really sad. And really excited.
Ate
Sat in the living room with the in-laws
Slept late
Sat outside and watched the hummingbirds
Ate
Sat with my best friend right before and right after she gave birth...for the first time
Held a newborn
Blogged
Loaded pics into Facebook
Ate
Beat my parents in Spades TWO TIMES out of three which makes Seth and I the champions
Played tennis
Watched tennis
Ate
Played tennis again
And again
Watched No Country for Old Men, what's up with that title anyway?
Watched I Am Legend
Helped Mom cook
Ate
Watched a movie I've never heard of before from the 80's with Martin Sheen called Believers.
Watched the end of River Wild. Love that movie
Played Apples to Apples with my family.
Made Appletini's for the first time ever. Think I made 'em a little strong...
Held my dog
Read the newspaper
Drank lots of coffee
Ate
Packed three months into two bags
Cleaned out my purse
Talked to my brother and his wife about their calling to be missionaries. They leave next year.
Got a spa pedicure with mom and my sister-in-law
Talked to my in-laws about politics
Made brownies...twice.
Ate mint chocolate chip ice cream...more than twice.
And now we leave for New York. And I feel really sad. And really excited.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Honky Tonk Angels
Last but not least...
Honky Tonk Angels is the story of three women, strangers at the time, who leave home to pursue their dreams in Nashville, TN. Fate has it they meet on the bus along the way, and the three women, quickly becoming the best of friends, form a singing group: The Honky Tonk Angels. The show is a country music review, loaded with classics, primarily those of three country stars, Tammy Wynette, Dolly Parton, and Loretta Lynn, who once released an album together, "Honky Tonk Angels," in 1993. Instead of making it a review only, the playwrite highlights the music using the stories of three fictional characters: Darlene Purvis, Angela Bodine, and Sue Ellen Smith Barney Fife.
To be honest, I was looking forward to this show the least because I didn't like the script. But once I heard the music, signature classic country music (and I'm not much of a country music fan), and once we got the show on its feet, it quickly became the highlight of my summer. It became my happy place. Maybe it was the familiarity of it. The three of us arrived first for rehearsal and became really close. With only three in the cast, the content and responsibility belonging to each one of us was weighty. A lot of pressure. A lot of work. We pulled together, helped each other out, and through the demands and trials of the show, I think developed a special bond.
Or maybe it's because it's such a fun show. Hilarious, really. And with a rockin' band led by my stud husband, performing those songs each night was a treat.
I don't have performance pics of this one, but here's a few backstage. (I'm Darlene.) And I'm still trying to get my hands on a few clips...
From left to right, Sue Ellen, Darlene, and Angela
Ladies and gentlemen! The Honky Tonk....ANGELS!!!" (Lord help that hair.)
And the real Honky Tonk girls.
Honky Tonk Angels is the story of three women, strangers at the time, who leave home to pursue their dreams in Nashville, TN. Fate has it they meet on the bus along the way, and the three women, quickly becoming the best of friends, form a singing group: The Honky Tonk Angels. The show is a country music review, loaded with classics, primarily those of three country stars, Tammy Wynette, Dolly Parton, and Loretta Lynn, who once released an album together, "Honky Tonk Angels," in 1993. Instead of making it a review only, the playwrite highlights the music using the stories of three fictional characters: Darlene Purvis, Angela Bodine, and Sue Ellen Smith Barney Fife.
To be honest, I was looking forward to this show the least because I didn't like the script. But once I heard the music, signature classic country music (and I'm not much of a country music fan), and once we got the show on its feet, it quickly became the highlight of my summer. It became my happy place. Maybe it was the familiarity of it. The three of us arrived first for rehearsal and became really close. With only three in the cast, the content and responsibility belonging to each one of us was weighty. A lot of pressure. A lot of work. We pulled together, helped each other out, and through the demands and trials of the show, I think developed a special bond.
Or maybe it's because it's such a fun show. Hilarious, really. And with a rockin' band led by my stud husband, performing those songs each night was a treat.
I don't have performance pics of this one, but here's a few backstage. (I'm Darlene.) And I'm still trying to get my hands on a few clips...
Sunday, August 24, 2008
A Chorus Line
A Chorus Line is a musical about a Broadway audition. Specifically an audition for the chorus of a Broadway musical. The show uses a montage technique to glance into the lives of about 16 auditionees, each person based off of a real live actor/dancer from the 70's, since the show was written in the 70's. Due to its innovative story telling approach and rockin' 70's choreography, A Chorus Line was a huge hit at the time. The revival, however, has suffered poor reviews, and it's leaving Broadway at the end of August, I believe.
At Jenny Wiley, I was supposed to be a cut dancer in Chorus Line. That means I was supposed to be in the beginning "audition" sequence, dance the routine, and get cut. But the girl playing Diana Morales was also a featured dancer in Wizard of Oz. At the end of the first week of Chorus Line rehearsals, which was also the first week of Wizard shows, she came down from a lift in Wizard and in doing so, tore her ACL, which is basically a screwed up knee (known to end careers) the very same injury that happens to the character, Paul, in the story line of A Chorus Line. Interestingly enough, the accident happened in real life to her the same day she rehearsed the pretend scene in A Chorus Line.
Long story short, I was swinging about four roles in the show, which is a fancy way of saying I was supposed to be learning all four parts in case something happened... Obviously it did. I stepped into the Morales role, having to learn it in about two days, and then went straight into designer runs and techs. And it was a blast. I never thought I'd be playing this Latino spitfire from the Bronx who can dance her hynie off, but I'm thankful for the opportunity. Morales sings the tune "Nothing," and the well-known "What I Did for Love." Some see her as the heart and soul of the show...such an uplifting, energizing, positive character. I loved her.
So here we are, dancing our hynies off.
At Jenny Wiley, I was supposed to be a cut dancer in Chorus Line. That means I was supposed to be in the beginning "audition" sequence, dance the routine, and get cut. But the girl playing Diana Morales was also a featured dancer in Wizard of Oz. At the end of the first week of Chorus Line rehearsals, which was also the first week of Wizard shows, she came down from a lift in Wizard and in doing so, tore her ACL, which is basically a screwed up knee (known to end careers) the very same injury that happens to the character, Paul, in the story line of A Chorus Line. Interestingly enough, the accident happened in real life to her the same day she rehearsed the pretend scene in A Chorus Line.
Long story short, I was swinging about four roles in the show, which is a fancy way of saying I was supposed to be learning all four parts in case something happened... Obviously it did. I stepped into the Morales role, having to learn it in about two days, and then went straight into designer runs and techs. And it was a blast. I never thought I'd be playing this Latino spitfire from the Bronx who can dance her hynie off, but I'm thankful for the opportunity. Morales sings the tune "Nothing," and the well-known "What I Did for Love." Some see her as the heart and soul of the show...such an uplifting, energizing, positive character. I loved her.
So here we are, dancing our hynies off.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Back from the Dead
It's like I was frozen in ice or something. I get back from Kentucky and find the Olympics more than half over, John Edwards cheated on his cancered wife, Ellen DeGeneres married Portia, and Bernie Mac is dead. Bernie Mac? Not to mention all the other national and international news of which I should be aware.
And I now stare directly into the fact that I learn more from People Magazine than the New York Times. But I mean, come on. We're still at war. It's still Obama and McCain. And "going green" is still the solution to global warming. So...I didn't really miss much there. Oh, and gas prices still suck.
We had no internet for most of the summer, except through Seth's iPhone, which consequently convinced me...I want one. Not just for the iPhone. For the iSolitaire.
What we did have was 42 days straight with no day off. 12 - 15 hour days. Spiders in our bed. Three different housing situations, one which involved a tub filled with backed up poop water. And a broken back. Actually it was a bone sheer and it belonged to me. Bone sheers hurt, but osteopaths are miracle men, especially the one who treated me for free. I was out only one show, and half another, which wasn't so bad, considering how bad it could have been. There was no big accident, no mishap, nothing from which I could gain any extra cash. My back started hurting and got worse and worse until I was walking like my father. One day I took 8 Aleve in a 12 hour period and it still felt like 4 knives were being jabbed into strategic parts of my tailbone.
It wasn't all bad.
I rehearsed and performed three different shows in 12 weeks, made a lot of new friends, learned a lot about myself, played three different Five Cent Stand mini-concerts at three different churches, gave away lots of Bitter Kiss CD's, watched four seasons of "House" with our pal, Joey, sang to my heart's content, discovered Wendy's twisted Frosties, learned to like roast beef, worked as a professional actor, and did it all with my husband right beside me. Can't beat that.
So of course whether you like it or not, you'll get pictures. Lots of pictures. And who knows, maybe a video clip, if I can get my hands on one. I'm glad to be done. I'm sad to be done. I can't wait to get back to New York City.
The picture parade begins:
Wizard of Oz (Dorothy):
"Why it's just like you could read what was inside of me..."
"If I only had a brain..."
"Oh look Scarecrow! It's a man...a man made out of tin! Yes."
"If I only had the heart..."
"If I only had the nerve..."
"We're off to see the Wizard..."
"Well, bust my buttons!"
Lil' Dorothies every night.
This one may have been the biggest fan of them all. She came to every show dressed like a different character each time. (I think she was a munchkin's sister)
A Chorus Line up next...
And I now stare directly into the fact that I learn more from People Magazine than the New York Times. But I mean, come on. We're still at war. It's still Obama and McCain. And "going green" is still the solution to global warming. So...I didn't really miss much there. Oh, and gas prices still suck.
We had no internet for most of the summer, except through Seth's iPhone, which consequently convinced me...I want one. Not just for the iPhone. For the iSolitaire.
What we did have was 42 days straight with no day off. 12 - 15 hour days. Spiders in our bed. Three different housing situations, one which involved a tub filled with backed up poop water. And a broken back. Actually it was a bone sheer and it belonged to me. Bone sheers hurt, but osteopaths are miracle men, especially the one who treated me for free. I was out only one show, and half another, which wasn't so bad, considering how bad it could have been. There was no big accident, no mishap, nothing from which I could gain any extra cash. My back started hurting and got worse and worse until I was walking like my father. One day I took 8 Aleve in a 12 hour period and it still felt like 4 knives were being jabbed into strategic parts of my tailbone.
It wasn't all bad.
I rehearsed and performed three different shows in 12 weeks, made a lot of new friends, learned a lot about myself, played three different Five Cent Stand mini-concerts at three different churches, gave away lots of Bitter Kiss CD's, watched four seasons of "House" with our pal, Joey, sang to my heart's content, discovered Wendy's twisted Frosties, learned to like roast beef, worked as a professional actor, and did it all with my husband right beside me. Can't beat that.
So of course whether you like it or not, you'll get pictures. Lots of pictures. And who knows, maybe a video clip, if I can get my hands on one. I'm glad to be done. I'm sad to be done. I can't wait to get back to New York City.
The picture parade begins:
Wizard of Oz (Dorothy):
A Chorus Line up next...
Sunday, June 22, 2008
I'm Alive!!
Barely.
=-)
I really am sorry for not being able to blog more. But it's impossible, because 1) we were internet-less for about a week or so and 2) when I'm not in rehearsal or doing a show, I'm sleeping or eating and there hasn't been time for much else.
The day we opened Honky Tonk was the day we started Wizard of Oz rehearsals. Crazy. There have been moments in rehearsal when I think I might just drop down on the floor, criss-cross style, and cry. Mostly because of exhaustion but also because of the demands of the roles I'm playing. But the moments pass quickly. All in all, when I'm rehearsing or doing a show, I'm totally engaged and loving every minute.
Playing the role of Dorothy is more demanding than I thought it would be. To be able to sustain a sense of honest-to-God wonderment and child-like awe throughout an entire show takes work! Lots of work! Lots of work to listen as an actor like you're learning so many things for the first time. An actor should be present in the scene work, listening and hearing things llike they're hearing them for the first time, though they've actually heard them night after night. I knew this. But to play a child who is not only listening, but continuously learning... That's really really hard. I had no idea. Everything about Oz is new, never seen before by Dorothy. Witches, munchkins, wizards, the Emerald City, the jitterbug, Scarecrow, Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion.... To honestly receive all of that is exhausting! And of course, then I'm excited cuz I'm going home, then I'm crying cuz I'm not, then excited cuz I am, then crying cuz I'm not, and so on and so forth. Whew! What a ride. But it is such a beautiful show. The story in it is so beautiful, and the lesson I learn from my journey is such an important reminder of where happiness lies.
"If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard, because if it isn't there....I never really lost it to begin with."
And I get to carry around the cutest little Toto you've every seen in your whole life. A real live dog. She's actually played the role before! But we're having trouble getting her to actually DO stuff on stage. She's supposed to run away from the witch, but when she "escapes," a.k.a. the Witch's monkey puts her down on the ground so she can run off stage, little Zoe (her real name) just stands there. And when I put her down so she can go find the man behind the curtain, she just stands there. She doesn't find anybody at all. Just stands. We'll have to remedy this situation somehow. I think the solution involves Vienna sausages.
Anyway, I am so grateful for this opportunity. This has been a pretty hard gig in a lot of ways, maybe I can expound on them later, but nevertheless I love what I'm doing.
I'll try to keep updating! Hope you're all well!
=-)
I really am sorry for not being able to blog more. But it's impossible, because 1) we were internet-less for about a week or so and 2) when I'm not in rehearsal or doing a show, I'm sleeping or eating and there hasn't been time for much else.
The day we opened Honky Tonk was the day we started Wizard of Oz rehearsals. Crazy. There have been moments in rehearsal when I think I might just drop down on the floor, criss-cross style, and cry. Mostly because of exhaustion but also because of the demands of the roles I'm playing. But the moments pass quickly. All in all, when I'm rehearsing or doing a show, I'm totally engaged and loving every minute.
Playing the role of Dorothy is more demanding than I thought it would be. To be able to sustain a sense of honest-to-God wonderment and child-like awe throughout an entire show takes work! Lots of work! Lots of work to listen as an actor like you're learning so many things for the first time. An actor should be present in the scene work, listening and hearing things llike they're hearing them for the first time, though they've actually heard them night after night. I knew this. But to play a child who is not only listening, but continuously learning... That's really really hard. I had no idea. Everything about Oz is new, never seen before by Dorothy. Witches, munchkins, wizards, the Emerald City, the jitterbug, Scarecrow, Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion.... To honestly receive all of that is exhausting! And of course, then I'm excited cuz I'm going home, then I'm crying cuz I'm not, then excited cuz I am, then crying cuz I'm not, and so on and so forth. Whew! What a ride. But it is such a beautiful show. The story in it is so beautiful, and the lesson I learn from my journey is such an important reminder of where happiness lies.
"If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard, because if it isn't there....I never really lost it to begin with."
And I get to carry around the cutest little Toto you've every seen in your whole life. A real live dog. She's actually played the role before! But we're having trouble getting her to actually DO stuff on stage. She's supposed to run away from the witch, but when she "escapes," a.k.a. the Witch's monkey puts her down on the ground so she can run off stage, little Zoe (her real name) just stands there. And when I put her down so she can go find the man behind the curtain, she just stands there. She doesn't find anybody at all. Just stands. We'll have to remedy this situation somehow. I think the solution involves Vienna sausages.
Anyway, I am so grateful for this opportunity. This has been a pretty hard gig in a lot of ways, maybe I can expound on them later, but nevertheless I love what I'm doing.
I'll try to keep updating! Hope you're all well!
Sunday, June 8, 2008
We made it!
I wish I could be more present these days. We're in 12 hour day rehearsals. Trying to get a show up in 11 days, well...5 more days now. I'm exhausted. But having a blast. Just tired.
The first show to open will be Honky Tonk Angels. I'm diggin' this old country music. I'm actually falling in love with Dolly Parton. Have you heard "Front Porch Swing"? Such a beautiful song. And 9 to 5 is crazy fun. And Paradise Road, great stuff. Dolly just has this facility of voice that's unreal. Such vocal flexibility, while keeping it so pure and beautiful and natural. Love her. I'm also loving Bobbie Gentry and Loretta Lynn.
Other songs...we do a clogging bit in Rocky Top. That's fun. And what else is there...ummm...Cleopatra...Boots are Made for Walkin...The Pill...Stand By Your Man...Honky Tonk Angels (course)...Calling All Angels...Good Girls Gonna Go Bad....Night Life...Harper Valley PTA....Coal Miner's Daughter....Ode to Billy Joe...and my personal favorite.....FANCY!!!
The cast and crew are really great here. So far, no divas. Just sweet people. And that's saying something because this first show is all girls. Except Seth and the band. Three female characters in the show, that's it. And then we have our understudies. And both the director and music director are women. Now that could get crazy, y'all. But so far so good. Seth has to be at all the rehearsals as the asst. musical director, and he plays keys for this show, so he's witnessed an (un)fair share of estrogen-slash-stress induced breakdowns this week. I'm sure there'll be more to come. I'm so glad he's here.
I've never crammed so much information into my brain at one time. I'm loving it.
Kentucky is...Kentucky. It's beautiful here, but it's a culture shock. A little depressing at first, but I think once the rehearsal schedule slows down in July and we have more time during the day, I'll get to enjoy the state park more. Hiking...the lake...sleeping in.....
Hope to post more in the coming days.
And I hope you are all well and enjoying the beginning of summer!
I'll leave you with this, because it's Dolly and I'm just now understanding why everyone loves her so much.
The first show to open will be Honky Tonk Angels. I'm diggin' this old country music. I'm actually falling in love with Dolly Parton. Have you heard "Front Porch Swing"? Such a beautiful song. And 9 to 5 is crazy fun. And Paradise Road, great stuff. Dolly just has this facility of voice that's unreal. Such vocal flexibility, while keeping it so pure and beautiful and natural. Love her. I'm also loving Bobbie Gentry and Loretta Lynn.
Other songs...we do a clogging bit in Rocky Top. That's fun. And what else is there...ummm...Cleopatra...Boots are Made for Walkin...The Pill...Stand By Your Man...Honky Tonk Angels (course)...Calling All Angels...Good Girls Gonna Go Bad....Night Life...Harper Valley PTA....Coal Miner's Daughter....Ode to Billy Joe...and my personal favorite.....FANCY!!!
The cast and crew are really great here. So far, no divas. Just sweet people. And that's saying something because this first show is all girls. Except Seth and the band. Three female characters in the show, that's it. And then we have our understudies. And both the director and music director are women. Now that could get crazy, y'all. But so far so good. Seth has to be at all the rehearsals as the asst. musical director, and he plays keys for this show, so he's witnessed an (un)fair share of estrogen-slash-stress induced breakdowns this week. I'm sure there'll be more to come. I'm so glad he's here.
I've never crammed so much information into my brain at one time. I'm loving it.
Kentucky is...Kentucky. It's beautiful here, but it's a culture shock. A little depressing at first, but I think once the rehearsal schedule slows down in July and we have more time during the day, I'll get to enjoy the state park more. Hiking...the lake...sleeping in.....
Hope to post more in the coming days.
And I hope you are all well and enjoying the beginning of summer!
I'll leave you with this, because it's Dolly and I'm just now understanding why everyone loves her so much.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Driving a Standard
Starting the 13 hour drive to Kentucky today. Stopping at Seth's parents for dinner and good night's sleep. We celebrated my sister-in-law's birthday last night. And now I'm off to Target for the last bit of essentials. Man, I love Target. Target is the bomb dot com of all supermarkets. I also went to (drum roll please) Chick-fil-A the first chance I got. Mmmmmm.
For my sister-in-law's birthday, I got her a real cute bag and put lots of random stuff in it, like jellies. (gellies?) Remember those? They were on sale at Target. I bought myself a pair, too, and I'm wearing them today and I can't wait.
I learned to drive a standard. We're driving my brother's car to Kentucky, and it's a standard. My dad took me out and taught me, and I learned it pretty quickly, if I do say so myself. Except then later, when driving to dinner around rush hour time, I thought I'd show off my new driving skills. So four of us piled into the little car. Me in the driver's seat. Dad front passenger side. Mom and Seth in the back. Seth hadn't seen me drive yet. I was ready to show him how cool I looked driving a standard.
Except that I came to a stop on a HILL, wedged between a long line of cars in both directions. I had to keep inching forward on the hill because we were all waiting for people to turn left. I was scared to death because I had only practiced on a hill in our neighborhood with nobody around. My dad said just do everything normal. Just do it quicker so you don't roll into the person behind you.
So I went into first gear quicker, except I also pounded on the gas every time because I was scared, so everytime we moved I squealed the tires like a bat outa hell and went two inches and had to stop again. This happened I think six times in a row. My dad kept yelling at me to stop and I kept yelling at him to stop stressing me out. And mom and Seth were laughing in the backseat. And some funny smell started seeping out from the car.
I had on bad shoes, OK? They were weird flip flop like shoes. When I learned and practiced on the hill in our neighborhood I was wearing gellies. So obviously, the shoes were bad. I'll just wear my jellies when we drive to Kentucky.
My brother and his wife gave me a late b-day present. A book of poetry by Brian Andreas. I love love love it and was up way too late reading it last night. Here's one I like:
Whenever she stood
in line at the bank
or while waiting
for the bus, I noticed
her feet.
The right always in
front and perpendicular
to the left just so.
Even after 2
children she
still dreamed
of being a
dancer.
Title: Ballerina Mom
And looked what happened in New York today. Yeesh.
For my sister-in-law's birthday, I got her a real cute bag and put lots of random stuff in it, like jellies. (gellies?) Remember those? They were on sale at Target. I bought myself a pair, too, and I'm wearing them today and I can't wait.
I learned to drive a standard. We're driving my brother's car to Kentucky, and it's a standard. My dad took me out and taught me, and I learned it pretty quickly, if I do say so myself. Except then later, when driving to dinner around rush hour time, I thought I'd show off my new driving skills. So four of us piled into the little car. Me in the driver's seat. Dad front passenger side. Mom and Seth in the back. Seth hadn't seen me drive yet. I was ready to show him how cool I looked driving a standard.
Except that I came to a stop on a HILL, wedged between a long line of cars in both directions. I had to keep inching forward on the hill because we were all waiting for people to turn left. I was scared to death because I had only practiced on a hill in our neighborhood with nobody around. My dad said just do everything normal. Just do it quicker so you don't roll into the person behind you.
So I went into first gear quicker, except I also pounded on the gas every time because I was scared, so everytime we moved I squealed the tires like a bat outa hell and went two inches and had to stop again. This happened I think six times in a row. My dad kept yelling at me to stop and I kept yelling at him to stop stressing me out. And mom and Seth were laughing in the backseat. And some funny smell started seeping out from the car.
I had on bad shoes, OK? They were weird flip flop like shoes. When I learned and practiced on the hill in our neighborhood I was wearing gellies. So obviously, the shoes were bad. I'll just wear my jellies when we drive to Kentucky.
My brother and his wife gave me a late b-day present. A book of poetry by Brian Andreas. I love love love it and was up way too late reading it last night. Here's one I like:
Whenever she stood
in line at the bank
or while waiting
for the bus, I noticed
her feet.
The right always in
front and perpendicular
to the left just so.
Even after 2
children she
still dreamed
of being a
dancer.
Title: Ballerina Mom
And looked what happened in New York today. Yeesh.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Doped Up on Claritin-D
Not one lick of sleep last night. Not one wink. I blame the 24 hr Claritin-D I took yesterday at noon. I usually take a 12 hr. It's either that or the insane amount of things I hadn't crossed off my to-do list when my head hit the pillow.
Speaking of pillow, wonder if I could fit that into my suitcase?
Nope.
Dangit. I like my pillow.
I'm an idiot and sent the laundry (yes we have ours done for us like oh so many others in the city for the obvious reason that I am tired of hauling that 2 ton bag of laundry down the never ending stairs and down the street and back up the street and back up the never ending stairs) to be done Sunday thinking I'd just call and have it sent back on Monday. Perfect plan since we leave Tuesday, that'd be today. Except that Monday was Memorial Day and they weren't open on Memorial Day, so I didn't get my clean clothes back. And Seth didn't get his clean clothes back. And now I have to call them right when they open in about 45 minutes to have them deliver a clean bag of laundry so Seth can slam-pack in a matter of 15 minutes so that we can catch a cab and head to the airport.
See why I couldn't sleep?
And I've got to mail keys to the subletter and mail rent and clean the floors and drink my coffee and take the trash out and pack my last bit and turn the computer off and write instructions to the subletter and put my face wash (the kind that makes my eyebrows two-toned) into a plastic baggy so it doesn't explode in my suitcase and turn my suitcase two-toned, and haul A down the never ending stairs with one too many pieces of luggage and a guitar.
I'm sure there's more.
And I need to memorize lots and lots of lines.
These kinds of circumstances are the kinds that tell me who I really am.
A type-something girl trying to be type-A and failing miserably. But an anal retentive type-something girl with insomnia, doped up on Claritin-D and slightly irritated she's cleaning a New York City apartment so some other girl can live in it.
Wish us safe travels. We're off to Oklahoma to pick up a car cuz remember we sold ours. I'm sure I'll have calmed down by then.
Speaking of pillow, wonder if I could fit that into my suitcase?
Nope.
Dangit. I like my pillow.
I'm an idiot and sent the laundry (yes we have ours done for us like oh so many others in the city for the obvious reason that I am tired of hauling that 2 ton bag of laundry down the never ending stairs and down the street and back up the street and back up the never ending stairs) to be done Sunday thinking I'd just call and have it sent back on Monday. Perfect plan since we leave Tuesday, that'd be today. Except that Monday was Memorial Day and they weren't open on Memorial Day, so I didn't get my clean clothes back. And Seth didn't get his clean clothes back. And now I have to call them right when they open in about 45 minutes to have them deliver a clean bag of laundry so Seth can slam-pack in a matter of 15 minutes so that we can catch a cab and head to the airport.
See why I couldn't sleep?
And I've got to mail keys to the subletter and mail rent and clean the floors and drink my coffee and take the trash out and pack my last bit and turn the computer off and write instructions to the subletter and put my face wash (the kind that makes my eyebrows two-toned) into a plastic baggy so it doesn't explode in my suitcase and turn my suitcase two-toned, and haul A down the never ending stairs with one too many pieces of luggage and a guitar.
I'm sure there's more.
And I need to memorize lots and lots of lines.
These kinds of circumstances are the kinds that tell me who I really am.
A type-something girl trying to be type-A and failing miserably. But an anal retentive type-something girl with insomnia, doped up on Claritin-D and slightly irritated she's cleaning a New York City apartment so some other girl can live in it.
Wish us safe travels. We're off to Oklahoma to pick up a car cuz remember we sold ours. I'm sure I'll have calmed down by then.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
asdlfkajs!!!
How do you flippin pack for the whole summer?
Ugh.
I've been absent. It's just because I'm losing my mind. No big deal.
Ugh.
I've been absent. It's just because I'm losing my mind. No big deal.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Canceled Debt
This past Sunday, Tim Keller preached on forgiving others. He used the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant in Matthew 18. Dr. Keller said that the way we forgive others is the way the King forgave his servant (probably a ruler of a designated area underneath the King, like Caesar and the Roman Empire) who owed him a very large amount of money and couldn't pay. Possibly due to a mistake in the ruling of his designated area, but who knows. The King first had pity on the man, or in other words, he related to the man, and the King's heart went out to him. Then he canceled the debt, which meant actually taking the payment on himself, making up for the loss himself, and taking care of whatever damage was done with his own resources. And lastly he let the man go.
And this is how God forgives us. I remember thinking during the sermon...that I sometimes forget what it actually means to be forgiven. "He paid a debt he did not owe. I owe a debt I could not pay...I needed someone to wash my sins away." That God has canceled my debt.
What is due God that I cannot pay him? Perfect submission. Perfect gratitude. Perfect honor. Perfect will. Perfect love. But God paid the debt through Christ. Christ, in his perfect submission and perfect gratitude and perfect honor and perfect will and perfect love, offered up what I owed but what I could not pay, and was sacrificed. He died and suffered the wrath of God. He paid for my debt so that I wouldn't have to.
A concept that is simple enough but so easily forgotten. A concept that can be known without being known.
I prayed that God would help me really understand his forgiveness, so that I could truly learn how to forgive others. And today, God answered my prayer.
We have been needing to pay a particular amount of money to a particular person who will remain unnamed but is kinda like a doctor but isn't. It was a big bill. So big that I needed to wait until some money from Mr. IRS came in. It did. I called this office today to request the final amount of the bill, and I was told that we owed nothing. That the person we owed canceled the debt. That the amount was written off as a doctor's expense. That we were free of the debt. She reiterated, quietly but weighing her words slowly and deliberately. I needed to pay nothing.
This man to whom I owed money took the debt upon himself and canceled it. He understood us. He related to us. His heart went out to us. And he let us go.
God wasted no time in granting my request. My understanding of His forgiveness was of the greatest importance to Him, to grasp how deep and how wide His love for me is. And He used a fellow Christian forgiving me my debt, to show me His love. And He's hoping and waiting for me to do the same to another soul in need of forgiveness, so that they may not only see, but truly feel, the love of God.
And this is how God forgives us. I remember thinking during the sermon...that I sometimes forget what it actually means to be forgiven. "He paid a debt he did not owe. I owe a debt I could not pay...I needed someone to wash my sins away." That God has canceled my debt.
What is due God that I cannot pay him? Perfect submission. Perfect gratitude. Perfect honor. Perfect will. Perfect love. But God paid the debt through Christ. Christ, in his perfect submission and perfect gratitude and perfect honor and perfect will and perfect love, offered up what I owed but what I could not pay, and was sacrificed. He died and suffered the wrath of God. He paid for my debt so that I wouldn't have to.
A concept that is simple enough but so easily forgotten. A concept that can be known without being known.
I prayed that God would help me really understand his forgiveness, so that I could truly learn how to forgive others. And today, God answered my prayer.
We have been needing to pay a particular amount of money to a particular person who will remain unnamed but is kinda like a doctor but isn't. It was a big bill. So big that I needed to wait until some money from Mr. IRS came in. It did. I called this office today to request the final amount of the bill, and I was told that we owed nothing. That the person we owed canceled the debt. That the amount was written off as a doctor's expense. That we were free of the debt. She reiterated, quietly but weighing her words slowly and deliberately. I needed to pay nothing.
This man to whom I owed money took the debt upon himself and canceled it. He understood us. He related to us. His heart went out to us. And he let us go.
God wasted no time in granting my request. My understanding of His forgiveness was of the greatest importance to Him, to grasp how deep and how wide His love for me is. And He used a fellow Christian forgiving me my debt, to show me His love. And He's hoping and waiting for me to do the same to another soul in need of forgiveness, so that they may not only see, but truly feel, the love of God.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
V and her Vision Board
My friend, we'll call her "V", keeps telling me to make a "vision board." She even bought me the materials: a white poster board. That's it. A plain white poster board. And on this poster board, my assignment is to cut pictures out of magazines and paste them onto the poster board, write words, what-EVer, she says, to remind you of your goals. But not just my goals, she says. My dreams. Then she says I am to put the vision board where I can see it every day so that every day I will have in plain sight what I'm going for, reaching for, dreaming of, hoping for. Even if it's crazy.
The reason, she says, is because you're more likely to actually DO those things if you see them in front of you. Literally.
I believe her. I think it's brilliant. I love the idea.
But I can't get myself to make the darn vision board.
Why is that? Why can't I put my dreams down on paper so they're out there for the whole world (really it would be seen by only me and the hubs but it feels like the whole world) to see? It's either that I don't have any dreams, or that I don't care about them, that I'm ashamed of them, or that I'm afraid to put them down on paper because that makes them real, concrete, perhaps laughable, and extremely vulnerable.
Well it's not because I don't have any.
It's definitely not because I don't care about them, because why would I go to Kentucky for 11 weeks if I didn't care about acting? Why would I make records and go on tour if I didn't care about singing? Why would I make a fool of myself in dance class if I didn't care about dancing?
It's not that I'm ashamed of them because... am I ashamed of them? Why would I be ashamed of them? I'm not hoping for shameful things. Why would I be ashamed of something that isn't shameful?
I could definitely be afraid of them.
Why are people ashamed of their dreams?
The best answer I can come up with is that we are ashamed of what it takes to accomplish the dreams. We are ashamed of what we think will be necessary behavior to accomplish our dreams. We think "going for it" is living for ourselves, rather than living for God. We think "going for it" means being self-centered and selfish. We think profession should be in our lives only to make money to support our families and buy things and store the rest away for rainy days and college funds and retirement.
We also think dreams mean really really big things, when they don't necessarily have to be. Although they might be.
The thing is, we have a choice as to how we pursue our hopes and dreams. I had a choice to wait for the perfect man to marry. My dream came true. I could have stopped trusting that God would provide, and I could have sold out and married someone I didn't love, or someone who didn't love me. We have the opportunity, for Christians the ability, to choose God every day. I have a choice to be selfish with my life whether I'm pursuing a dream or not. I have a choice to love God and love my neighbor every single day, whether or not I'm looking at a vision board. Striving for a desired profession isn't a sin, it's how I strive for that goal that determines holiness.
Yet for some reason the artist is told, if you're not "singing for God" you shouldn't sing. If you're not "writing songs for God" you shouldn't write. If you're not "making films for God" you shouldn't make films. Yet the accountant doesn't "punch numbers for God" and that's OK. The engineer doesn't "drill oil wells for God" and he's smiled upon. The dentist doesn't "fill cavities for God" and he's a hero.
So that's it, then. I won't make my vision board because I've been told that "singing for God" makes singing OK? If I put "Broadway" on my vision board, then I'm endangering my soul.
And putting "Broadway" on my vision board sure looks laughable. I mean, that looks pretty dumb. Who really believes they can be on Broadway.
Uh...that would be...the folks on Broadway.
And what happens if I don't make it to Broadway? Then everyone laughs at me.
Nope. They don't. They say, well - good going there, Fancy. It was a fun ride.
And the folks that do anything different, like the folks that secretly rejoice if I don't succeed, are jerks. Plain and simple.
And the folks that secretly hope I don't succeed now while I'm trying? Well,....that sucks. For me and for them. For me because I sure could use all the encouragement I can get. And for them because they're missing out on a fun ride. And for the record, making a living as an actor or a singer doesn't have to mean Broadway. But wow, it sure is a fantastic goal, right?
So I'm making that vision board. Right when I get back from Kentucky, I'm making it.
The reason, she says, is because you're more likely to actually DO those things if you see them in front of you. Literally.
I believe her. I think it's brilliant. I love the idea.
But I can't get myself to make the darn vision board.
Why is that? Why can't I put my dreams down on paper so they're out there for the whole world (really it would be seen by only me and the hubs but it feels like the whole world) to see? It's either that I don't have any dreams, or that I don't care about them, that I'm ashamed of them, or that I'm afraid to put them down on paper because that makes them real, concrete, perhaps laughable, and extremely vulnerable.
Well it's not because I don't have any.
It's definitely not because I don't care about them, because why would I go to Kentucky for 11 weeks if I didn't care about acting? Why would I make records and go on tour if I didn't care about singing? Why would I make a fool of myself in dance class if I didn't care about dancing?
It's not that I'm ashamed of them because... am I ashamed of them? Why would I be ashamed of them? I'm not hoping for shameful things. Why would I be ashamed of something that isn't shameful?
I could definitely be afraid of them.
Why are people ashamed of their dreams?
The best answer I can come up with is that we are ashamed of what it takes to accomplish the dreams. We are ashamed of what we think will be necessary behavior to accomplish our dreams. We think "going for it" is living for ourselves, rather than living for God. We think "going for it" means being self-centered and selfish. We think profession should be in our lives only to make money to support our families and buy things and store the rest away for rainy days and college funds and retirement.
We also think dreams mean really really big things, when they don't necessarily have to be. Although they might be.
The thing is, we have a choice as to how we pursue our hopes and dreams. I had a choice to wait for the perfect man to marry. My dream came true. I could have stopped trusting that God would provide, and I could have sold out and married someone I didn't love, or someone who didn't love me. We have the opportunity, for Christians the ability, to choose God every day. I have a choice to be selfish with my life whether I'm pursuing a dream or not. I have a choice to love God and love my neighbor every single day, whether or not I'm looking at a vision board. Striving for a desired profession isn't a sin, it's how I strive for that goal that determines holiness.
Yet for some reason the artist is told, if you're not "singing for God" you shouldn't sing. If you're not "writing songs for God" you shouldn't write. If you're not "making films for God" you shouldn't make films. Yet the accountant doesn't "punch numbers for God" and that's OK. The engineer doesn't "drill oil wells for God" and he's smiled upon. The dentist doesn't "fill cavities for God" and he's a hero.
So that's it, then. I won't make my vision board because I've been told that "singing for God" makes singing OK? If I put "Broadway" on my vision board, then I'm endangering my soul.
And putting "Broadway" on my vision board sure looks laughable. I mean, that looks pretty dumb. Who really believes they can be on Broadway.
Uh...that would be...the folks on Broadway.
And what happens if I don't make it to Broadway? Then everyone laughs at me.
Nope. They don't. They say, well - good going there, Fancy. It was a fun ride.
And the folks that do anything different, like the folks that secretly rejoice if I don't succeed, are jerks. Plain and simple.
And the folks that secretly hope I don't succeed now while I'm trying? Well,....that sucks. For me and for them. For me because I sure could use all the encouragement I can get. And for them because they're missing out on a fun ride. And for the record, making a living as an actor or a singer doesn't have to mean Broadway. But wow, it sure is a fantastic goal, right?
So I'm making that vision board. Right when I get back from Kentucky, I'm making it.
Friday, May 16, 2008
On Lists and Galoshes
Nothing I had planned to do today got done, not counting the big stuff. Big stuff equals things other people count on me doing. Other stuff, the "nothing," equals the stuff on my to-do list, the stuff I count on me doing. Not a one of those things got done today.
I live off of to-do lists. I love them. Sometimes the only way I can go to sleep at night is to make a to-do list for tomorrow. The worry exits my brain, runs down my arm, through my hand, out my fingers, into the pen, and enters the ink that is transferred to my paper, and wah-la, I can sleep. I inherited that trait from my dad. He writes a to-do list on a little sticky note before he goes to bed every night and sticks it to his bathroom mirror. I know this because when I was little, and then not so little, I saw a sticky note on his mirror almost every day while he was at work.
Getting nothing done on my sticky note list means I can't cross anything off, which stresses me out. Especially when I have a cazillion and one things to do before leaving for Kentucky. I can't afford days where nothing is crossed off of my sticky list.
I managed to meet with a praise and worship group at 11 this morning at our apartment, then run over to the Upper East Side in the rain to "work" a birthday party where I danced with 9 year old girls and glittered their faces, ran back over to the West Side to babysit a 6 and 2 year old for a couple of hours where I played with them, bathed them, cooked for them, fed them, and cleaned up after them, ran back to my apartment to meet my husband so I could cook for him, feed him, clean up after him, and then went on a date with him.
We saw Prince Caspian. Loved it. Really really loved it.
So while I accomplished nothing on my to-do list I ran around like a crazy woman all day long. In the rain. In my galoshes. Which are pink with a multi-color criss cross pattern on them. And I like to call them galoshes rather than rain boots. When I play duck-duck-goose with the boys I babysit, I like to fake'em out by saying every word I can think of that starts with the hard sound of the letter "g" and galoshes nearly always ends up in the duck-duck-goose vocabulary. And it's nearly always followed by the 6-year-old, who waits in anticipation for the word "goose" to coincide with my hand patting his head, slumping and tilting his little blond head up at me, and through his smart spectacles inquiring, "What's galoshes?" And I say in between heads, without missing a beat of course because I'm quite skilled at the game, "They're rain boots."
"Goose!"
And we run.
And I ran all day long and got nothing done. It's alright. As long as I make the same list out for tomorrow I should be able to sleep just fine.
I live off of to-do lists. I love them. Sometimes the only way I can go to sleep at night is to make a to-do list for tomorrow. The worry exits my brain, runs down my arm, through my hand, out my fingers, into the pen, and enters the ink that is transferred to my paper, and wah-la, I can sleep. I inherited that trait from my dad. He writes a to-do list on a little sticky note before he goes to bed every night and sticks it to his bathroom mirror. I know this because when I was little, and then not so little, I saw a sticky note on his mirror almost every day while he was at work.
Getting nothing done on my sticky note list means I can't cross anything off, which stresses me out. Especially when I have a cazillion and one things to do before leaving for Kentucky. I can't afford days where nothing is crossed off of my sticky list.
I managed to meet with a praise and worship group at 11 this morning at our apartment, then run over to the Upper East Side in the rain to "work" a birthday party where I danced with 9 year old girls and glittered their faces, ran back over to the West Side to babysit a 6 and 2 year old for a couple of hours where I played with them, bathed them, cooked for them, fed them, and cleaned up after them, ran back to my apartment to meet my husband so I could cook for him, feed him, clean up after him, and then went on a date with him.
We saw Prince Caspian. Loved it. Really really loved it.
So while I accomplished nothing on my to-do list I ran around like a crazy woman all day long. In the rain. In my galoshes. Which are pink with a multi-color criss cross pattern on them. And I like to call them galoshes rather than rain boots. When I play duck-duck-goose with the boys I babysit, I like to fake'em out by saying every word I can think of that starts with the hard sound of the letter "g" and galoshes nearly always ends up in the duck-duck-goose vocabulary. And it's nearly always followed by the 6-year-old, who waits in anticipation for the word "goose" to coincide with my hand patting his head, slumping and tilting his little blond head up at me, and through his smart spectacles inquiring, "What's galoshes?" And I say in between heads, without missing a beat of course because I'm quite skilled at the game, "They're rain boots."
"Goose!"
And we run.
And I ran all day long and got nothing done. It's alright. As long as I make the same list out for tomorrow I should be able to sleep just fine.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Summer Theater in Kentucky
Well folks, in a matter of weeks, I'm off to theater land again. Theater land nestled in the mountains of Kentucky. Yee haw.
I'll be away 11 weeks. The whole summer. Away from my charming city to live in a cabin in the hee-ills.
But don't fret, fancied friends. For two reasons. 1) Seth is going with me. The whole 11 weeks we'll be together in the hot burnin' sun, workin' our ever livin' arses off. He's the associate music director for the whole shin-dig. Now isn't that somethin'? When I auditioned for the job, they asked me to bring my guitar to the call back and play a tune or two. Absolutely, I said. But really what I meant was, absolutely, I'll have my husband bring my guitar because I ain't truckin' that thing around the city all day. And whadoyou know? Seth brought that ther' guitar with 'im to the call back and landed himsay'lf a JAWB!
2nd reason) We'll be havin' a blast! Three shows in rotating rep. That means we rehearse 1 show, perform it while rehearsing another, perform those two in rotation, while we rehearse a 3rd show, then perform all three shows in rotation for the rest of the summer season. Ai-ya-yai. Lots of work but lots of fun.
We're doing the following shows and I'll be playing the following roles.
The Wizard of Oz: Dorothy
Honky Tonk Angels: Darlene
A Chorus Line: Understudy (yikes, they haven't told me who I'm understudying, but I'm a bit nervous about it cuz they could make me swing 3 different tracks or something. I'm also worried because the dancing might kick my bleep!
I'm really, really excited about playing Dorothy, mostly because "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" is one of my favorite songs, and was played when Seth proposed (thanks to our pal Joey) and was also sung at our wedding (thanks to my lovely MOH Laura). And also because Judy Garland is one of my favorite singers. And also because it's a really fun show. And also because I get to wear the ruby slippers. Yesssss.
Honky Tonk Angels is a review of folk/country hits, told through 3 women's stories of leavin' home for Nashville, TN and following their dreams. It's growing on me, now that I've heard the music. Great music, and I get to play the gee-tar. Always fun. And sing songs like "Coal Miner's Daughter," "Ode to Billie Joe," (SUCH a cool song) and "Fancy," among loads of others. I think there's around 25 songs in the show.
And I've told you all I know about A Chorus Line so far.
The theater's called the Jenny Wiley Theater in Prestonsburg, KY. So if you haven't planned a summer vacation yet, why not Kentucky?
See schedule of shows here.
So I leave you with this, fancied friends, and hope that I can sing it half as well as she does.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Officially 29
My sweet man of a husband came home last Thursday, and we officially celebrated my 29th birthday together. So 29 I am. For sure I am. And ya know, the more I say it the cooler it sounds. It sounds more adult than 28. Maybe I just feel more adult than at 28. I probably feel more adult than at 28 because I'm almost THIRTY. If I'm not an adult by 30, I better re-think my life. See, now, even as I say that, there's a little voice inside of me saying, "Nooooo! You can never grow up. Neverrrr!"
Oh, the injustice of it all.
Ever wonder what age we'll eternally be in heaven? When we get our new bodies. Like, will we be forever and always the age we were at death? Or will we be the age of the best year of our lives when years mattered? Or will we be the age when we looked the very best, but we'll look even better? Vain thoughts of a 29 year old.
Maybe we get to pick. Maybe we get to say....OK, God, I pick..ummm...32. Remember, God? I looked GOOD at 32.
Hey, it could work.
Oh, the injustice of it all.
Ever wonder what age we'll eternally be in heaven? When we get our new bodies. Like, will we be forever and always the age we were at death? Or will we be the age of the best year of our lives when years mattered? Or will we be the age when we looked the very best, but we'll look even better? Vain thoughts of a 29 year old.
Maybe we get to pick. Maybe we get to say....OK, God, I pick..ummm...32. Remember, God? I looked GOOD at 32.
Hey, it could work.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Eckhart's New Earth (Part II)
I'm becoming prone to making a statement in one post, and then recanting it in a later post. The cause being one of two reasons. #1) I speak too soon. #2) I allow myself the freedom of changing my mind. The latter is the better habit of the two. The habit of keeping an open mind, within boundaries of faith and reason, is a habit I choose to foster and hope to keep.
I said in an earlier post that Part II would be about why Eckhart Tolle's novel, "A New Earth," is not worth reading. I had previously bought the book and after reading the first chapter, formed that opinion. However, in order to respectfully and properly respond to the book, I needed to read more. I did read more, a majority of the book. For the sake of time, I skimmed parts of it. After doing so, I've decided to give it a good slow read, that in ways it actually is worth reading, when viewed through the correct lens with the awareness that my core beliefs will differ from the author's.
This book should be read with caution, but has the potential to, in fact, aid the Christian in the working out of one's salvation.
It's not surprising, actually. That the book might be beneficial is not surprising. Eckhart Tolle acts as a philosopher, observing humanity in its being, function, and purpose. He uses spiritual language to do so, quoting Jesus more often than any other spiritual teacher. He never misquotes Jesus. Misinterprets, yes. But some of the language is the same and some of the lessons are the same. Which I feel supports the truth that there is a Supreme Being, a God, who is observed and noticeable by all of humanity. By the very essence of humanity as a race, we see God. The major religions all have a similar purpose. Each one sees the dysfunction in our race and tries to alleviate it and renew humanity, individually and as a whole. Christianity is unique in that its founding prophet, teacher, leader claimed to be God. Ultimately, we believe that Jesus Christ, the second person of the divine Trinity, God himself, became man. God took on the nature of man and so redeemed mankind, making the way once again possible for direct union with God.
Ego: that is how Tolle describes the dysfunction of humanity - the thoughts and ideas associated with "I" that lead to false personal identification. This false personal identification is a consciousness which most commonly defines itself through possessions: what I have, what belongs to me, what I want. But it is also the idea that "I" is just that, an idea. The word "I" is a very small word for such a complex individual, and we tend to define our "I" by things, roles, our bodies. The ego displays itself in opinions, resentments, the need to be right, successes and failures, comparison, posturing, greed, the need for power, to name a few... Sounds like what we Christians like to call Pride. This idea is the basis for the majority of the book, and it makes sense to me. I see it. I understand it. Seeing this can help me in my life.
So what does Tolle see as the solution to this dysfunction? Awakening. Awakening to the inner being underneath the ego and then fusing it to your outer purpose, or in other words, responding to the world around you with the new consciousness of your inner being. Yes, in ways this idea can help me. But it doesn't get to the bottom of the problem, and that is: how will the dysfunction be eliminated completely? Obviously the need is within us to eliminate the dysfunction entirely. It will not be eliminated completely by this spirituality alone.
Tolle states that his book is a book on spirituality, which can be molded into any person's choice of religion. He believes one can separate religion and spirituality. I personally, don't see how the two things can be separated, for to ask oneself questions about one's spirit will ultimately lead to questions about that spirit's creator. Tolle goes so far as to discourage religion, saying it is a form of man's ego, a system of doctrine, that leads to ideologies which cause war and dissent. In fact, Tolle likes Jesus very much. However, he dislikes Christianity. He says the following of spiritual teachers, such as Jesus, and then further of religion:
Incorrect. False. A relative truth formed from his own perspective.
Christianity teaches that truth is handed down from a Supreme perspective. Not our own. That's what's missing in all of this. If spirituality can exist apart from a system of beliefs, specifically apart from Christianity, then it will be a spirituality whose effectiveness of the renewal of man is limited. A spirituality derived from man himself cannot correct his own dysfunction because he is limited by that very dysfunction. We must be given a renewed spirit from an outside Source and an outside perspective. And it's given to us by the Incarnation. By God becoming man, taking on death, and presenting the new man, the new resurrected awakened man, before God for eternity as a Living Sacrifice. This is what Christ meant by "the way." It is "the way" because it is God's way.
Christianity requires an element of spirituality that Tolle does not mention: Faith. We must accept Faith. We must awaken to it. We must keep it. The faith to believe what God has said is True.
I said in an earlier post that Part II would be about why Eckhart Tolle's novel, "A New Earth," is not worth reading. I had previously bought the book and after reading the first chapter, formed that opinion. However, in order to respectfully and properly respond to the book, I needed to read more. I did read more, a majority of the book. For the sake of time, I skimmed parts of it. After doing so, I've decided to give it a good slow read, that in ways it actually is worth reading, when viewed through the correct lens with the awareness that my core beliefs will differ from the author's.
This book should be read with caution, but has the potential to, in fact, aid the Christian in the working out of one's salvation.
It's not surprising, actually. That the book might be beneficial is not surprising. Eckhart Tolle acts as a philosopher, observing humanity in its being, function, and purpose. He uses spiritual language to do so, quoting Jesus more often than any other spiritual teacher. He never misquotes Jesus. Misinterprets, yes. But some of the language is the same and some of the lessons are the same. Which I feel supports the truth that there is a Supreme Being, a God, who is observed and noticeable by all of humanity. By the very essence of humanity as a race, we see God. The major religions all have a similar purpose. Each one sees the dysfunction in our race and tries to alleviate it and renew humanity, individually and as a whole. Christianity is unique in that its founding prophet, teacher, leader claimed to be God. Ultimately, we believe that Jesus Christ, the second person of the divine Trinity, God himself, became man. God took on the nature of man and so redeemed mankind, making the way once again possible for direct union with God.
Ego: that is how Tolle describes the dysfunction of humanity - the thoughts and ideas associated with "I" that lead to false personal identification. This false personal identification is a consciousness which most commonly defines itself through possessions: what I have, what belongs to me, what I want. But it is also the idea that "I" is just that, an idea. The word "I" is a very small word for such a complex individual, and we tend to define our "I" by things, roles, our bodies. The ego displays itself in opinions, resentments, the need to be right, successes and failures, comparison, posturing, greed, the need for power, to name a few... Sounds like what we Christians like to call Pride. This idea is the basis for the majority of the book, and it makes sense to me. I see it. I understand it. Seeing this can help me in my life.
So what does Tolle see as the solution to this dysfunction? Awakening. Awakening to the inner being underneath the ego and then fusing it to your outer purpose, or in other words, responding to the world around you with the new consciousness of your inner being. Yes, in ways this idea can help me. But it doesn't get to the bottom of the problem, and that is: how will the dysfunction be eliminated completely? Obviously the need is within us to eliminate the dysfunction entirely. It will not be eliminated completely by this spirituality alone.
Tolle states that his book is a book on spirituality, which can be molded into any person's choice of religion. He believes one can separate religion and spirituality. I personally, don't see how the two things can be separated, for to ask oneself questions about one's spirit will ultimately lead to questions about that spirit's creator. Tolle goes so far as to discourage religion, saying it is a form of man's ego, a system of doctrine, that leads to ideologies which cause war and dissent. In fact, Tolle likes Jesus very much. However, he dislikes Christianity. He says the following of spiritual teachers, such as Jesus, and then further of religion:
"Those rare individuals then spoke to their contemporaries. They spoke of sin, of suffering, of delusion... They then pointed to the possibility of awakening from the collective nightmare of "normal" human existence. They showed the way. The world was not yet ready for them, and yet they were a vital and necessary part of human awakening... Their teachings, although both simple and powerful, became distorted and misinterpreted, in some cases even as they were recorded in writing by their disciples. Over the centuries, many things were added that had nothing to do with the original teachings, but were reflections of a fundamental misunderstanding... And so religions, to a large extent, became divisive rather than unifying forces... They brought more violence and hatred... They became ideologies, belief systems people could identify with and so use them to enhance their false sense of self. Through them, they could make themselves "right" and others "wrong" and thus define their identity through their enemies, the "other," the "nonbelievers" or "wrong believers."
Incorrect. False. A relative truth formed from his own perspective.
Christianity teaches that truth is handed down from a Supreme perspective. Not our own. That's what's missing in all of this. If spirituality can exist apart from a system of beliefs, specifically apart from Christianity, then it will be a spirituality whose effectiveness of the renewal of man is limited. A spirituality derived from man himself cannot correct his own dysfunction because he is limited by that very dysfunction. We must be given a renewed spirit from an outside Source and an outside perspective. And it's given to us by the Incarnation. By God becoming man, taking on death, and presenting the new man, the new resurrected awakened man, before God for eternity as a Living Sacrifice. This is what Christ meant by "the way." It is "the way" because it is God's way.
Christianity requires an element of spirituality that Tolle does not mention: Faith. We must accept Faith. We must awaken to it. We must keep it. The faith to believe what God has said is True.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
While Running with Imogen
Yesterday, with my new running shoes on, Imogen Heap blaring through my Ipod, I headed downstairs to walk-slash-run the park. ('Walk" being the operative word.) On the way down the stairs, I ran into the older man who lives right below us. We greeted each other. I removed one ear bud just in case he was in a talkative mood. He was.
He commented on what a nice day it was. He had just finished the 5 mile trail. Oh yeah? I said. I'm just about to do that myself. With an expression that denoted pain and exhaustion, he said something in return that ended with what sounded like the words: "at the end there." I chuckled, because at the very time of his response, Imogen kicked it up a notch in my left ear, and I had no idea what he said or what to say back to him. So I chuckled.
He says, No I'm serious! I laugh even louder as I head down the stairs. Good to see you! I say. Yeah, he says grumpily. As I stepped out of my building I realized he might possibly have said something like, "I fell to the ground and the ambulance came and they had to revive me at the end there." Or...."I collapsed from heat exhaustion at the end there." Or...."I accidentally ran into a cyclist and broke his neck at the end there." Or...."You know I live below you and you're a really loud walker and I wish you'd walk more quietly up there." It occurred to me that he might consider me a very evil person now.
It was a crowded day at the park. Not only were the meadows jammed with picnic-ers, the trail was jammed with runners and walkers and cyclists. Occasionally, I had to use quick thinking logic to maneuver through and avoid injury. At one point on the trail, a point where I was running down hill and uncontrollably gaining speed, I came upon two very slow walkers, strolling along on that beautiful afternoon. I couldn't run around them to the right due to the two cyclists approaching me from behind on my right. I edged toward the left curb to pass the dawdlers, and as I approached, at the very last minute, the couple (the girl being closest to the left curb) dawdled to the left, blocking my way. I had no choice. I had to do it.
"On your left." is what I meant to say, loud enough but calmly enough. Due to the downhill-ness and Imogen Heap blaring in my ears, and the fact that I'm in awful shape, what came out was,
"ON YOUR LEFT!!!"
The girl jumped a mile in the air, quickly stepped to the right, stopped, and then cringed her shoulders to her ears, waiting to be trampled flat.
I didn't run her over.
And later, the WALK-slash-run in me satisfied, I waited at the crosswalk to head home. A taxi pulled up, out of which a forty-something man in a suit appeared carrying two duffle bags. Imogen was finished blaring in my ears. This time I heard plainly.
"Wow, it's a gorgeous day!" he said, to my surprise, addressing me.
I attempted a polite chuckle to acknowledge the pretty day. (Apparently, I chuckle when I don't know what to say.) A cyclist sped toward us. I guess the forty-something man knew the cyclist and addressed him by name.
"George, it's so beautiful here!"
The taxi sped away but the forty-something man in the suit stood and looked at me.
"At my place in Southampton it was raining cats and dogs!"
I gave him a sarcastic smile through pursed lips that said, "You don't impress me. Get over yourself," looked away and crossed the street as fast as I could.
Very eventful day in the park.
He commented on what a nice day it was. He had just finished the 5 mile trail. Oh yeah? I said. I'm just about to do that myself. With an expression that denoted pain and exhaustion, he said something in return that ended with what sounded like the words: "at the end there." I chuckled, because at the very time of his response, Imogen kicked it up a notch in my left ear, and I had no idea what he said or what to say back to him. So I chuckled.
He says, No I'm serious! I laugh even louder as I head down the stairs. Good to see you! I say. Yeah, he says grumpily. As I stepped out of my building I realized he might possibly have said something like, "I fell to the ground and the ambulance came and they had to revive me at the end there." Or...."I collapsed from heat exhaustion at the end there." Or...."I accidentally ran into a cyclist and broke his neck at the end there." Or...."You know I live below you and you're a really loud walker and I wish you'd walk more quietly up there." It occurred to me that he might consider me a very evil person now.
It was a crowded day at the park. Not only were the meadows jammed with picnic-ers, the trail was jammed with runners and walkers and cyclists. Occasionally, I had to use quick thinking logic to maneuver through and avoid injury. At one point on the trail, a point where I was running down hill and uncontrollably gaining speed, I came upon two very slow walkers, strolling along on that beautiful afternoon. I couldn't run around them to the right due to the two cyclists approaching me from behind on my right. I edged toward the left curb to pass the dawdlers, and as I approached, at the very last minute, the couple (the girl being closest to the left curb) dawdled to the left, blocking my way. I had no choice. I had to do it.
"On your left." is what I meant to say, loud enough but calmly enough. Due to the downhill-ness and Imogen Heap blaring in my ears, and the fact that I'm in awful shape, what came out was,
"ON YOUR LEFT!!!"
The girl jumped a mile in the air, quickly stepped to the right, stopped, and then cringed her shoulders to her ears, waiting to be trampled flat.
I didn't run her over.
And later, the WALK-slash-run in me satisfied, I waited at the crosswalk to head home. A taxi pulled up, out of which a forty-something man in a suit appeared carrying two duffle bags. Imogen was finished blaring in my ears. This time I heard plainly.
"Wow, it's a gorgeous day!" he said, to my surprise, addressing me.
I attempted a polite chuckle to acknowledge the pretty day. (Apparently, I chuckle when I don't know what to say.) A cyclist sped toward us. I guess the forty-something man knew the cyclist and addressed him by name.
"George, it's so beautiful here!"
The taxi sped away but the forty-something man in the suit stood and looked at me.
"At my place in Southampton it was raining cats and dogs!"
I gave him a sarcastic smile through pursed lips that said, "You don't impress me. Get over yourself," looked away and crossed the street as fast as I could.
Very eventful day in the park.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Oprah's and Eckhart's New Earth
I thought the last post about Oprah would be the last. I lied unknowingly, but I feel the need for one more post on this subject, and then onto the Catholic Church.
First let me explain what I've decided my response to Oprah should be. I feel it important to think on because already, I've had a Christian woman ask me if I think Eckhart Tolle's book(s) would be beneficial to her life and should she read them. If I remember correctly, Oprah claims her web class membership is in the millions. And furthermore, Oprah has been, to an extent, open about her beliefs to the public, not only open but she tends to share and teach others what she learns. It's our responsibility as Christians to listen, consider, and compare what she shares to what we believe. The problem is, I'm not sure we're very good at listening and considering. What I think we're good at is reacting. Which is very different and usually gets us into trouble.
The non-believing world often sees Christians as close-minded, judgmental, arrogant, dogmatic, and mean-spirited. Some of those accusations we won't ever be able to deny. We are dogmatic. To an extent, we have to be. We do have to exercise judgment and discernment as necessary in defending our faith. But I don't believe we have to be close-minded to do it. I believe we can consider with an open mind the ideas of someone who believes differently. Open-minded doesn't mean foolish. It means being able to listen, consider, understand. We certainly don't have to be arrogant or mean-spirited. When we are presented with views that differ from ours, we don't have to scream and pout and make a fuss. We need to be rational and level-headed. We don't need to be afraid of a differing belief. And we certainly don't need to exclude any person from our lives just because they believe differently than we do.
I don't care one way or another if a Christian watches Oprah or not. It's up to the individual. I like her show. I'll keep watching it.
Oprah calls herself a free-thinking Christian. She believes there are many ways to finding God. To me that sounds as if she believes there are many ways of salvation, and as Christians we believe Christ is the only way of salvation. To say you believe in Christ (to call yourself a Christian) but also believe in multiple ways to God tells me you're confused about what Christianity actually teaches. It tells me you're confused about what the Incarnation and the Son of God's sacrifice actually means. To me, she seems like a powerful woman searching for truth. I sincerely hope she finds it. If I were her, I'd be careful about searching in front of the whole world, and I think one day she might be held accountable for that.... But because she does claim to be a Christian, I can't go any further in discerning what her beliefs are in their totality until we sit down to coffee and talk. Maybe one day. Who knows?
I had actually planned on relaying some of Eckhart Tolle's novel. Why I think his book is not worth reading. Didn't get to it. There might have to be a Part II here.
First let me explain what I've decided my response to Oprah should be. I feel it important to think on because already, I've had a Christian woman ask me if I think Eckhart Tolle's book(s) would be beneficial to her life and should she read them. If I remember correctly, Oprah claims her web class membership is in the millions. And furthermore, Oprah has been, to an extent, open about her beliefs to the public, not only open but she tends to share and teach others what she learns. It's our responsibility as Christians to listen, consider, and compare what she shares to what we believe. The problem is, I'm not sure we're very good at listening and considering. What I think we're good at is reacting. Which is very different and usually gets us into trouble.
The non-believing world often sees Christians as close-minded, judgmental, arrogant, dogmatic, and mean-spirited. Some of those accusations we won't ever be able to deny. We are dogmatic. To an extent, we have to be. We do have to exercise judgment and discernment as necessary in defending our faith. But I don't believe we have to be close-minded to do it. I believe we can consider with an open mind the ideas of someone who believes differently. Open-minded doesn't mean foolish. It means being able to listen, consider, understand. We certainly don't have to be arrogant or mean-spirited. When we are presented with views that differ from ours, we don't have to scream and pout and make a fuss. We need to be rational and level-headed. We don't need to be afraid of a differing belief. And we certainly don't need to exclude any person from our lives just because they believe differently than we do.
I don't care one way or another if a Christian watches Oprah or not. It's up to the individual. I like her show. I'll keep watching it.
Oprah calls herself a free-thinking Christian. She believes there are many ways to finding God. To me that sounds as if she believes there are many ways of salvation, and as Christians we believe Christ is the only way of salvation. To say you believe in Christ (to call yourself a Christian) but also believe in multiple ways to God tells me you're confused about what Christianity actually teaches. It tells me you're confused about what the Incarnation and the Son of God's sacrifice actually means. To me, she seems like a powerful woman searching for truth. I sincerely hope she finds it. If I were her, I'd be careful about searching in front of the whole world, and I think one day she might be held accountable for that.... But because she does claim to be a Christian, I can't go any further in discerning what her beliefs are in their totality until we sit down to coffee and talk. Maybe one day. Who knows?
I had actually planned on relaying some of Eckhart Tolle's novel. Why I think his book is not worth reading. Didn't get to it. There might have to be a Part II here.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Chick Flick Alert
Going to see this movie with my girlfriend in about 10 minutes.
And I bought this double feature at Dwayne Reade for 10 bucks. These 2 movies included:
I bought it BECAUSE it said $7.50 off a viewing of Made of Honor at participating locations, only to discover that my theater is not a participating location.
Oh well. I'm still glad I bought the movies.
I am so watching both of them, and then probably Dirty Dancing and Cinderella Man, before my husband gets home.
Love you, hon! But I need a break from LOTR and the Matrix...and Kill Bill...and Star Wars...and Indiana Jones...
And I bought this double feature at Dwayne Reade for 10 bucks. These 2 movies included:
I bought it BECAUSE it said $7.50 off a viewing of Made of Honor at participating locations, only to discover that my theater is not a participating location.
Oh well. I'm still glad I bought the movies.
I am so watching both of them, and then probably Dirty Dancing and Cinderella Man, before my husband gets home.
Love you, hon! But I need a break from LOTR and the Matrix...and Kill Bill...and Star Wars...and Indiana Jones...
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Birthday Fun and More
Mom and I had a great time in the city. We saw Gypsy with Patti LuPone Saturday night. Wow, what an actress. I love the moments when I'm at the theater and I get a chill up my spine. More like a chill up the neck and behind the ears and then...gone. I wait for that moment. It's when the actor and the music, or the set, or the lights, come together at just the right moment, and this indescribable...thing...happens. What you see is real. Not imaginary, but real. Real life. But better. More powerful. Magic. Patti LuPone made magic on Saturday night.
We had tea at Alice's Teacup. The best scones around. Not me and Patti LuPone. Me and my mom.
We had dinner at Taboon, where my mom couldn't help but tell the waiter it was my birthday, and the waiter couldn't help but put a candle on our chocolate lava cake but to my relief, refrained from singing, and the table next to us couldn't help but start singing anyway, and then the whole restaurant was singing, and then my mom yelled out, "Her name's Amber!"..."Happy BIRthday dear...AMBER!" they all sang, and I couldn't help but bury my face in my hands, and then the old man with shoulder length grey hair came to our table and toasted my youth and my mom for spending it with me, said "his poetry tonight was my youth," (woah - pretty deep stuff there), then he couldn't help but assure me youth doesn't last. Bright smiles. Big toast. Thank you's.
Youth doesn't last.
Thank you for reminding me, dear old man.
I joke about it, but really, is that a necessary reminder?
We shopped at the local thrift stores. I'm telling you, you can score big in these parts.
I got a new pair of running shoes (not at the thrift stores but at the DSW in Union Square) so I no longer have an excuse for not running the park. Ugh. I'm doing it, but I hate running. I'd much rather take a dance class, but wow, it's expensive. My last pair of running shoes lasted me about 8 years. No lie! Obviously, I didn't run in them much.
We killed a roach the size of my big toe - with Pledge and Seth's shoe. The only roach I've EVER seen in this apartment. With Pledge because I didn't have any Raid and it was the quickest solution. It worked! Slowed him down enough for mom to smash him with Seth's shoe while I stood on the couch barefoot. I don't smush roaches. I just can't. I hate that crackling noise when the shoe hits at just the right place.
And my stairwell smells like an animal crawled up the wall somewhere and died. Either that or someone in one of these apartment's is dead and nobody knows it. Creepy. The smell is disgusting. Not in my apartment, thank God, but definitely in the stairwell.
Gross.
Thanks Mom, for a fun-filled (roach and all) birthday weekend. Love you.
We had tea at Alice's Teacup. The best scones around. Not me and Patti LuPone. Me and my mom.
We had dinner at Taboon, where my mom couldn't help but tell the waiter it was my birthday, and the waiter couldn't help but put a candle on our chocolate lava cake but to my relief, refrained from singing, and the table next to us couldn't help but start singing anyway, and then the whole restaurant was singing, and then my mom yelled out, "Her name's Amber!"..."Happy BIRthday dear...AMBER!" they all sang, and I couldn't help but bury my face in my hands, and then the old man with shoulder length grey hair came to our table and toasted my youth and my mom for spending it with me, said "his poetry tonight was my youth," (woah - pretty deep stuff there), then he couldn't help but assure me youth doesn't last. Bright smiles. Big toast. Thank you's.
Youth doesn't last.
Thank you for reminding me, dear old man.
I joke about it, but really, is that a necessary reminder?
We shopped at the local thrift stores. I'm telling you, you can score big in these parts.
I got a new pair of running shoes (not at the thrift stores but at the DSW in Union Square) so I no longer have an excuse for not running the park. Ugh. I'm doing it, but I hate running. I'd much rather take a dance class, but wow, it's expensive. My last pair of running shoes lasted me about 8 years. No lie! Obviously, I didn't run in them much.
We killed a roach the size of my big toe - with Pledge and Seth's shoe. The only roach I've EVER seen in this apartment. With Pledge because I didn't have any Raid and it was the quickest solution. It worked! Slowed him down enough for mom to smash him with Seth's shoe while I stood on the couch barefoot. I don't smush roaches. I just can't. I hate that crackling noise when the shoe hits at just the right place.
And my stairwell smells like an animal crawled up the wall somewhere and died. Either that or someone in one of these apartment's is dead and nobody knows it. Creepy. The smell is disgusting. Not in my apartment, thank God, but definitely in the stairwell.
Gross.
Thanks Mom, for a fun-filled (roach and all) birthday weekend. Love you.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
29 Years Old
My birthday's tomorrow.
29 years old.
I think I'd rather turn 30.
29 seems blah.
Very depressing.
My mom's here for my birthday, so I'm a bit distracted from the blogosphere, which is always nice once and a while.
Seth's out of town for my birthday, but I'm TOTALLY fine with that because it actually means I can stay 28 for a few days longer. I don't REALLY turn 29 until I celebrate with him.
I made that rule up.
I like it.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
American Idol: Memories
OK, as a singer and a theater lover, I have strong feelings about this performance. I'm wondering, before I smear my opinions all over the place, what you thought (or think). Both Randy and Simon didn't like it. Paula, of course, did. You all know the song. Barbara Streisand. Cats. Andrew Lloyd Webber. Whether you watched the show on Tuesday night or not, I'd love to know if you like what you hear or not, and why. Then I'll smear my opinion all over the place. While certainly respecting yours. Cool? Here it is.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Positive Post Tuesday - My friend, Audrey
I have a friend whose name is Audrey. Audrey's 10. Audrey played Chip in the production I was in of Beauty and the Beast in Houston. She's currently singing as a member of the children's chorus in La Boheme at Houston Grand Opera. A professional singer-actress at the age of 10. Wow!
Audrey is my email buddy. She calls it BIFF: Best Internet Friends Forever. She keeps me posted on her life. What's going on at school and what's going on with her "career." She's got boys that won't leave her alone at school, and it really annoys her. I don't blame her or the boys. She's a very pretty girl. And boys get sort of stupid when it comes to pretty girls. But I agree with Audrey. They should leave her alone.
The first time I saw Audrey on stage, she was 7, I think. In Oliver. She was the smallest little tyke up there, but she absolutely glowed. I couldn't stop watching her. She was practically trampled by the other, bigger kids on stage who were dancing like theater-crazed maniacs all around her. But Audrey's smile and the twinkle in her eye were mesmerizing. I knew right then that the stage was where she belonged.
I admire Audrey for that twinkle in her eye. It's there off stage, too. She has the ability to look at every circumstance like it's a gift, and she's just glad she's a part of it. She takes nothing for granted, but delights in the smallest bits of what life offers.
I admire Audrey for her obedience to Christ, and her faith in prayer. When one certain boy wouldn't stop bothering her at school, Audrey (though, of course, very frustrated and annoyed) prayed for him. She said that God would fix him, but that God should fix her first so that she could have the right attitude to pray for him.
Here's what Audrey said after that:
"It is very amazing what miracles God can do. I feel very fortunate to have a great God like I do."
I hope for the faith, love, and fortitude that I see in Audrey. I hope for that ever-so-bright, fear-be-afraid, twinkle in my eye, that unknowingly dares the dead to rise, awakens the worried to a Father's presence, and demands the fearful to face the unknown.
Love ya, girl!
BIFF
Audrey is my email buddy. She calls it BIFF: Best Internet Friends Forever. She keeps me posted on her life. What's going on at school and what's going on with her "career." She's got boys that won't leave her alone at school, and it really annoys her. I don't blame her or the boys. She's a very pretty girl. And boys get sort of stupid when it comes to pretty girls. But I agree with Audrey. They should leave her alone.
The first time I saw Audrey on stage, she was 7, I think. In Oliver. She was the smallest little tyke up there, but she absolutely glowed. I couldn't stop watching her. She was practically trampled by the other, bigger kids on stage who were dancing like theater-crazed maniacs all around her. But Audrey's smile and the twinkle in her eye were mesmerizing. I knew right then that the stage was where she belonged.
I admire Audrey for that twinkle in her eye. It's there off stage, too. She has the ability to look at every circumstance like it's a gift, and she's just glad she's a part of it. She takes nothing for granted, but delights in the smallest bits of what life offers.
I admire Audrey for her obedience to Christ, and her faith in prayer. When one certain boy wouldn't stop bothering her at school, Audrey (though, of course, very frustrated and annoyed) prayed for him. She said that God would fix him, but that God should fix her first so that she could have the right attitude to pray for him.
Here's what Audrey said after that:
"It is very amazing what miracles God can do. I feel very fortunate to have a great God like I do."
I hope for the faith, love, and fortitude that I see in Audrey. I hope for that ever-so-bright, fear-be-afraid, twinkle in my eye, that unknowingly dares the dead to rise, awakens the worried to a Father's presence, and demands the fearful to face the unknown.
Love ya, girl!
BIFF
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Back to Catholicism
I'm about ready to get back to those Catholic blogs-slash-discussions-slash-questions-slash-readings.
Ya know, the Pope being in town and all.
I thought his visit was extremely positive. I sure like that guy. I admit, I was sad to see him board his plane and leave the United States of America. I even got a little teary eyed. Which I thought strange, but nevertheless, true. I don't know why I got teary eyed. Maybe hormones? Or maybe it was the look on his face and the way he smiled at people. He seems so stone cold until he smiles and then there's such a light and joy and gentleness and humility.
Pope Benedict had a little something to say about illusion. I thought it relevant to our recent discussion and my recent thoughts. Here it is in his address to the U.S. Bishops:
Ya know, the Pope being in town and all.
I thought his visit was extremely positive. I sure like that guy. I admit, I was sad to see him board his plane and leave the United States of America. I even got a little teary eyed. Which I thought strange, but nevertheless, true. I don't know why I got teary eyed. Maybe hormones? Or maybe it was the look on his face and the way he smiled at people. He seems so stone cold until he smiles and then there's such a light and joy and gentleness and humility.
Pope Benedict had a little something to say about illusion. I thought it relevant to our recent discussion and my recent thoughts. Here it is in his address to the U.S. Bishops:
"For an affluent society, a further obstacle to an encounter with the living God lies in the subtle influence of materialism, which can all too easily focus the attention on the hundredfold, which God promises now in this time, at the expense of the eternal life which he promises in the age to come (cf. Mk 10:30). People today need to be reminded of the ultimate purpose of their lives. They need to recognize that implanted within them is a deep thirst for God. They need to be given opportunities to drink from the wells of his infinite love. It is easy to be entranced by the almost unlimited possibilities that science and technology place before us; it is easy to make the mistake of thinking we can obtain by our own efforts the fulfillment of our deepest needs. This is an illusion. Without God, who alone bestows upon us what we by ourselves cannot attain (cf. Spe Salvi, 31), our lives are ultimately empty. People need to be constantly reminded to cultivate a relationship with him who came that we might have life in abundance (cf. Jn 10:10). The goal of all our pastoral and catechetical work, the object of our preaching, and the focus of our sacramental ministry should be to help people establish and nurture that living relationship with “Christ Jesus, our hope” (1 Tim 1:1)."
Friday, April 18, 2008
Question
Is success an illusion?
(I'm really asking.)
I said in an earlier post that success was an illusion. I'm not sure that's right.
Do you think success is an illusion?
(I'm really asking.)
I said in an earlier post that success was an illusion. I'm not sure that's right.
Do you think success is an illusion?
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Letter to the Man One Floor Higher
Dear Man Who Lives Above Us,
How do you do? My name's FancyPants. How are you liking your place up there? Too bad you don't have a deck like us. But I bet your place is great. We love ours.
I hope you're not bothered by our late night movie watching habit. We're night owls, you see. We're trying to be careful and keep the volume down. It's the least we can do. Don't you agree?
If I could make a request, Man Who Lives Above Us. We have a vent in our bathroom that leads to outside. I'm sure it's some city rule or something. But you see, somehow, because of that vent, I can hear you when you're in your bathroom. I hear when you turn your shower on. I hear when you flush your toilet. I hear when you yell at your wife or friend or partner or whoever. But most disturbing to me,
I hear you fart. And it really grosses me out.
So do you think you could fart a little quieter? I mean, it's the least you could do. Don't you agree?
Thank you, Man Who Lives Above Us, for understanding. Best of luck in this crazy city we call home.
Sincerely,
FancyPants
How do you do? My name's FancyPants. How are you liking your place up there? Too bad you don't have a deck like us. But I bet your place is great. We love ours.
I hope you're not bothered by our late night movie watching habit. We're night owls, you see. We're trying to be careful and keep the volume down. It's the least we can do. Don't you agree?
If I could make a request, Man Who Lives Above Us. We have a vent in our bathroom that leads to outside. I'm sure it's some city rule or something. But you see, somehow, because of that vent, I can hear you when you're in your bathroom. I hear when you turn your shower on. I hear when you flush your toilet. I hear when you yell at your wife or friend or partner or whoever. But most disturbing to me,
I hear you fart. And it really grosses me out.
So do you think you could fart a little quieter? I mean, it's the least you could do. Don't you agree?
Thank you, Man Who Lives Above Us, for understanding. Best of luck in this crazy city we call home.
Sincerely,
FancyPants
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Behind the Black and White Dress
If I were to be completely honest with you, I would tell you how, when I was at that fancy shmancy party on Saturday night, I hated walking around by myself. That I felt ridiculous and out of place. That I kept noting how my dress seemed a little tighter, and kept wondering if my purse was too big. It didn't match my outfit.
How I wanted to be the one on that stage, and how when I watched Kristen, a looming sense of doom crept deeper and deeper within my spirit. Thoughts like, I'll never get there. I'm not that good. Am I that good? How did she get there?
I might seem really bad to you, if I tell you all of this. But then again, to some Christians, I was already really bad because, every once and a while, I enjoy a good martini.
And then, some of you will know exactly what I'm talking about. Some of you know what it's like to walk amongst pictures of what you're not, and have *something* tell you that you don't have it and won't get it. Something tell you, lie to you, that it will make you happy. Lies of comparison and envy.
So maybe by me saying all of this we can help each other realize that comparison bites and should be thrown straight to hell. That success is an illusion, that money doesn't make us happy.
Some people believe that pursuing a dream is selfish, self-fulfilling, self-pleasing, especially if this dream is found *in* the world. When in fact, that pursuit requires perpetual self denial, diligent cross bearing, insistent battle with temptation. Specific temptation tailored just perfectly for the targeted soul, exposed and vulnerable. Things are not always what they seem.
P.S. To my good friend, Kathy, if you're reading, please don't stop inviting me when you get to do Kristen's hair. These thoughts in this post are merely one side of the coin. I am honored I was your guest and next time, I'm making myself talk to Aaron Sorkin.
How I wanted to be the one on that stage, and how when I watched Kristen, a looming sense of doom crept deeper and deeper within my spirit. Thoughts like, I'll never get there. I'm not that good. Am I that good? How did she get there?
I might seem really bad to you, if I tell you all of this. But then again, to some Christians, I was already really bad because, every once and a while, I enjoy a good martini.
And then, some of you will know exactly what I'm talking about. Some of you know what it's like to walk amongst pictures of what you're not, and have *something* tell you that you don't have it and won't get it. Something tell you, lie to you, that it will make you happy. Lies of comparison and envy.
So maybe by me saying all of this we can help each other realize that comparison bites and should be thrown straight to hell. That success is an illusion, that money doesn't make us happy.
Some people believe that pursuing a dream is selfish, self-fulfilling, self-pleasing, especially if this dream is found *in* the world. When in fact, that pursuit requires perpetual self denial, diligent cross bearing, insistent battle with temptation. Specific temptation tailored just perfectly for the targeted soul, exposed and vulnerable. Things are not always what they seem.
P.S. To my good friend, Kathy, if you're reading, please don't stop inviting me when you get to do Kristen's hair. These thoughts in this post are merely one side of the coin. I am honored I was your guest and next time, I'm making myself talk to Aaron Sorkin.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Schmooze City
Well, fancied friends, I have once and for all been introduced to High Class USA. A night of shmooze is what I attended last night. All for a good cause, mind you. But shmooze, none the less.
My friend invited me as a guest to a benefit for ACD research: a cocktail party with hor d’oeuvers and specialty drinks, a silent and live auction, after party lounge with champagne and desert, and drum roll please, a concert by Kristen Chenoweth. You can imagine my glee when my friend texted me and asked me to attend. Kristen Chenoweth?!?! Oh boy. My friend (who does my hair) was doing Kristen's hair for the event. So I texted back Yes! and she said they'd email me an invitation.
I never received an email invitation, so yesterday I called my friend to get the details and to tell her I didn't receive the invitation. She said they'd send it, but she didn't really believe that they would. Lo and behold, at around 4 PM, I checked my email and what did I find? An invitation attached to an email which read,
Our apologies Amber. We thought you had this information..
You are confirmed for 1 seat for the show. The attached document will give you any information you need. Otherise, please email....
Thanks! We look forward to seeing you tonight!
...Well! Thank you! I graciously accept your apology! I look forward to seeing you tonight, whoever you might be.
And then I realized. I don't really know what ACD is, and if I'm attending a benefit for ACD research I better know what it is, right? So I googled, "What is ACD?" , and here's what I found:
"ACD stands for Automatic Call Distribution. It is a service that enables a call to be placed on hold until an employee is available to take the call."
Surely not. Surely I'm not attending a benefit for telephone technology? So I looked again and found this:
"What is a CD? We are all familiar with a CD, but what exactly is it?"
Hmmm. Not very helpful.
The invitation also said "Broadway concert cocktail attire a must." Ohhhh-kaaaay. Broadway cocktail? What the heck does that mean? I asked my friend, and she didn't know either. I searched my closet and found a black and white dress, or I could go with a red dress.... Geesh. Which one should it be? Seth finally said the red dress might look like I was trying real hard to draw attention to myself, so I went with the black and white dress. It was an excellent choice. I would have looked like the last burning flame amongst the ashes in that red dress. Thank God I didn't wear it.
My friend had to be at the benefit hours early to get Kristin ready, so I arrived alone. In fact, I spent a good bit of the evening alone surrounded by very shmoozy people. I didn't know what to do, except just walk around or stand at the bar. Once I perused the silent auction table and pretended like I had a lot of money. That was fun.... Once I sat next to a woman who looked nice and started talking to her. She was a doctor, and then I found out what ACD was. It's a respiratory disease that babies are born with. Their lungs don't operate properly, and they usually die within 2 months from suffocating.
OK, so not a telephone technology benefit. That was confirmed.
These people were at the party.
Actor Bradley Whitford
Writer/Producer Aaron Sorkin
I didn't talk to those guys.
Actor NiCole Robinson
I talked to her but I think I called her Amy. Dang it.
And finally, the lovely, Kristin Chenoweth.
Who is the epitome of effervescent joy on stage, and wow, what a singer.
I took a picture with Kristen and got her autograph. I told her she was lovely. She told me I looked lovely. I told her the story of how I met some of her relatives on a plane ride to Tulsa, OK. She said she had lots of relatives and had no idea who I was talking about.
I think we could be great friends.
Thank you, Kathy, for a wonderful night!
My friend invited me as a guest to a benefit for ACD research: a cocktail party with hor d’oeuvers and specialty drinks, a silent and live auction, after party lounge with champagne and desert, and drum roll please, a concert by Kristen Chenoweth. You can imagine my glee when my friend texted me and asked me to attend. Kristen Chenoweth?!?! Oh boy. My friend (who does my hair) was doing Kristen's hair for the event. So I texted back Yes! and she said they'd email me an invitation.
I never received an email invitation, so yesterday I called my friend to get the details and to tell her I didn't receive the invitation. She said they'd send it, but she didn't really believe that they would. Lo and behold, at around 4 PM, I checked my email and what did I find? An invitation attached to an email which read,
You are confirmed for 1 seat for the show. The attached document will give you any information you need. Otherise, please email....
Thanks! We look forward to seeing you tonight!
...Well! Thank you! I graciously accept your apology! I look forward to seeing you tonight, whoever you might be.
And then I realized. I don't really know what ACD is, and if I'm attending a benefit for ACD research I better know what it is, right? So I googled, "What is ACD?" , and here's what I found:
"ACD stands for Automatic Call Distribution. It is a service that enables a call to be placed on hold until an employee is available to take the call."
Surely not. Surely I'm not attending a benefit for telephone technology? So I looked again and found this:
"What is a CD? We are all familiar with a CD, but what exactly is it?"
Hmmm. Not very helpful.
The invitation also said "Broadway concert cocktail attire a must." Ohhhh-kaaaay. Broadway cocktail? What the heck does that mean? I asked my friend, and she didn't know either. I searched my closet and found a black and white dress, or I could go with a red dress.... Geesh. Which one should it be? Seth finally said the red dress might look like I was trying real hard to draw attention to myself, so I went with the black and white dress. It was an excellent choice. I would have looked like the last burning flame amongst the ashes in that red dress. Thank God I didn't wear it.
My friend had to be at the benefit hours early to get Kristin ready, so I arrived alone. In fact, I spent a good bit of the evening alone surrounded by very shmoozy people. I didn't know what to do, except just walk around or stand at the bar. Once I perused the silent auction table and pretended like I had a lot of money. That was fun.... Once I sat next to a woman who looked nice and started talking to her. She was a doctor, and then I found out what ACD was. It's a respiratory disease that babies are born with. Their lungs don't operate properly, and they usually die within 2 months from suffocating.
OK, so not a telephone technology benefit. That was confirmed.
These people were at the party.
I didn't talk to those guys.
I talked to her but I think I called her Amy. Dang it.
And finally, the lovely, Kristin Chenoweth.
I took a picture with Kristen and got her autograph. I told her she was lovely. She told me I looked lovely. I told her the story of how I met some of her relatives on a plane ride to Tulsa, OK. She said she had lots of relatives and had no idea who I was talking about.
I think we could be great friends.
Thank you, Kathy, for a wonderful night!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Oprah: For the last time!
I don't really know how to effectively blog on this subject because to give it the fairest listen possible, we'd be listening for HOURS. And I'm personally getting tired of talking about Oprah on this blog. For some reason it keeps happening. Maybe it's because I have more time on my hands these days, and to be honest, I enjoy her show.
Oprah is leading an online class on Eckhart Tolle's novel, A New Earth. I haven't read the book. I've watched about 45 minutes of the first class online at Oprah.com, to see what all the rigmarole is all about. For me it is a tiresome hour and a half, a little man saying what we already know in obscure but lofty language, giving his keys to spiritual awareness and growth, quoting Jesus as an inspired teacher but not much more than that.
Some of it seems like it could be helpful. Some of it seems very dangerous. I wanted to highlight one part, because I think Christian women (and men, but I know most of you men out there could give a rat's buttooee about Oprah) should be informed, and I also have a question. For women and men.
I'll give a summary of this question posed by a Catholic reader/viewer to Oprah, and then Oprah's answer. But you can listen to it here. Just click on Chapter One and then go to about 21 minutes into the video: (Please do go listen if you have the time.)
Kelly: I'm a Catholic. My husband is Catholic and we've decided to raise our children Catholic. Tolle's book, A New Earth, is opening my eyes to a new way of thinking and form of spirituality that doesn't align with the teaching of Christianity. How do you, Oprah, reconcile this spiritual teaching with your Christian beliefs?
Oprah: Because of my experiences at a Baptist Church in my twenties, I have since opened my mind about the absolute indescribable hugeness of that which we call God. In my journey I began to search for something other than doctrine. I believe Jesus came to show us a Christ consciousness...to show us the way it's done...to show us principals and laws to know that way...in my belief, even as a Christian, I don't believe Jesus came to start Christianity. I am a free thinking Christian and believe other paths lead to God than just Christianity.
Again, please listen to her actual response if you can.
First of all, what does that mean..."I don't believe Jesus came to start Christianity"....huh? I'm seriously asking what she might mean by that. Trying to understand where exactly she's coming from here. Christ consciousness. What do you think that means?
Jesus commands us not to judge one another. When Oprah calls herself a Christian, and then describes Christianity in such an unorthodox way, should a Christian warn others that's she's not a Christian, and is in fact, a false teacher? Is that casting judgement? Is she a false teacher? Is she a Christian? Do I have a right to decide whether or not she's a Christian? What is our Christian responsibility here? Where is the line between judgement and discernment?
Oprah is leading an online class on Eckhart Tolle's novel, A New Earth. I haven't read the book. I've watched about 45 minutes of the first class online at Oprah.com, to see what all the rigmarole is all about. For me it is a tiresome hour and a half, a little man saying what we already know in obscure but lofty language, giving his keys to spiritual awareness and growth, quoting Jesus as an inspired teacher but not much more than that.
Some of it seems like it could be helpful. Some of it seems very dangerous. I wanted to highlight one part, because I think Christian women (and men, but I know most of you men out there could give a rat's buttooee about Oprah) should be informed, and I also have a question. For women and men.
I'll give a summary of this question posed by a Catholic reader/viewer to Oprah, and then Oprah's answer. But you can listen to it here. Just click on Chapter One and then go to about 21 minutes into the video: (Please do go listen if you have the time.)
Kelly: I'm a Catholic. My husband is Catholic and we've decided to raise our children Catholic. Tolle's book, A New Earth, is opening my eyes to a new way of thinking and form of spirituality that doesn't align with the teaching of Christianity. How do you, Oprah, reconcile this spiritual teaching with your Christian beliefs?
Oprah: Because of my experiences at a Baptist Church in my twenties, I have since opened my mind about the absolute indescribable hugeness of that which we call God. In my journey I began to search for something other than doctrine. I believe Jesus came to show us a Christ consciousness...to show us the way it's done...to show us principals and laws to know that way...in my belief, even as a Christian, I don't believe Jesus came to start Christianity. I am a free thinking Christian and believe other paths lead to God than just Christianity.
Again, please listen to her actual response if you can.
First of all, what does that mean..."I don't believe Jesus came to start Christianity"....huh? I'm seriously asking what she might mean by that. Trying to understand where exactly she's coming from here. Christ consciousness. What do you think that means?
Jesus commands us not to judge one another. When Oprah calls herself a Christian, and then describes Christianity in such an unorthodox way, should a Christian warn others that's she's not a Christian, and is in fact, a false teacher? Is that casting judgement? Is she a false teacher? Is she a Christian? Do I have a right to decide whether or not she's a Christian? What is our Christian responsibility here? Where is the line between judgement and discernment?
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Untitled
No words, no words, the poet says.
For viewing the visions in blurred form
leaves naught to the keys of inspired thought.
What verse can be made in this shadow, hazed light
When men are waiting, waiting, waiting
Through the near skeptic's eye,
Save only this breath of life and word
I am here.
I am Yours.
For viewing the visions in blurred form
leaves naught to the keys of inspired thought.
What verse can be made in this shadow, hazed light
When men are waiting, waiting, waiting
Through the near skeptic's eye,
Save only this breath of life and word
I am here.
I am Yours.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
The Vampire Lestat
I'm reading The Vampire Lestat. Ever read it? I've never read a vampire novel before because, well, they're about vampires! I think I remember Amy saying she really likes vampire novels. My husband is into them. Really he's just into Anne Rice. But he loves any kind of vampire movie. Interview with the Vampire. Van Helsing. Bram Stroker's Dracula.So we've had these Anne Rice books sitting on our shelf for a while.
Last week I took Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway to an audition to read while I waited...and waited...and waited... And man, was it BORING! I saw the movie, The Hours. It's supposed to be a modern take to this book. But geesh! I mean, reading the book is like decoding a puzzle, the sentences are so convoluted and complicated. And the big deal about Mrs. Dalloway is supposed to be that the author could find something worth telling in the normal going-about-it of one day. Then why tell it in such a complicated way?
I like Hawthorne. I like Steinbeck. I like Charlotte Bronte. I even like Dickens on a good day. They don't write like Hemingway or anything.
But the people around me in my audition room were so much more interesting than deciphering page 2 that I couldn't stop watching them. And people-watching in the audition room's gotta stop. I just get irritated.
So The Vampire Lestat, it is. And woah, am I liking it. It's good! (The drinking blood parts are pretty gross, but so far there hasn't been too much of that.) I'll let you know how it goes. I'm on Part II.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Positive Post Tuesday: My husband
I try to avoid too much sap on the ole' blog here. Mostly because it's just kinda embarrassing, like blog PDA or something. But get ready for a sap explosion, because that's what you're about to get.
Today is Positive Post Tuesday. I'm choosing to lift up my husband.
He never ceases to amaze me. Seth is not one easily understood. A number of paradoxes coincide that make up his existence, and when I think I've got him figured out, I'm left scratching my head and wondering where "that" came from. A few examples come to mind:
When I married him I knew he was a creative genius. I knew he was the most inventive, interesting, and intriguing composer I had ever met, and I knew the songs he wrote were more beautiful and honest than anything I could remember. I had no idea he could write a novel, that he even wanted to write a novel. (Not really a paradox. More like a... surprise.) And now I know that in a matter of time he will be a published novelist. Because he's that good. I even have a hunch he'll be a famous novelist.
When I married him I knew he loved God. He could explain Romans 8 to me, and that's saying something. But I had no idea he could curse like a sailor...and somehow it doesn't sound vulgar.
When I married him I knew he was right-brained. Of course, at the time, I had no idea how many times I would find myself on a mission for his keys. But, he hates more than anything to be late.
It's hard to say why you love someone. I love my husband for the way his eyes light up at the mention of Star Wars. For his absolute delight in making a ham and cheese omelette. For the hope that is inside of him. Sometimes I think I love him because of how much he loves me. He has taught me what true love is. He is the reason I am singing, acting, dancing. He believes in me and allows me the chance. He believes in me more than I believe in myself. Without him, I would be less than what I am.
I thank God for bringing this man into my life, through whom I am eternally changed.
Today is Positive Post Tuesday. I'm choosing to lift up my husband.
He never ceases to amaze me. Seth is not one easily understood. A number of paradoxes coincide that make up his existence, and when I think I've got him figured out, I'm left scratching my head and wondering where "that" came from. A few examples come to mind:
When I married him I knew he was a creative genius. I knew he was the most inventive, interesting, and intriguing composer I had ever met, and I knew the songs he wrote were more beautiful and honest than anything I could remember. I had no idea he could write a novel, that he even wanted to write a novel. (Not really a paradox. More like a... surprise.) And now I know that in a matter of time he will be a published novelist. Because he's that good. I even have a hunch he'll be a famous novelist.
When I married him I knew he loved God. He could explain Romans 8 to me, and that's saying something. But I had no idea he could curse like a sailor...and somehow it doesn't sound vulgar.
When I married him I knew he was right-brained. Of course, at the time, I had no idea how many times I would find myself on a mission for his keys. But, he hates more than anything to be late.
It's hard to say why you love someone. I love my husband for the way his eyes light up at the mention of Star Wars. For his absolute delight in making a ham and cheese omelette. For the hope that is inside of him. Sometimes I think I love him because of how much he loves me. He has taught me what true love is. He is the reason I am singing, acting, dancing. He believes in me and allows me the chance. He believes in me more than I believe in myself. Without him, I would be less than what I am.
I thank God for bringing this man into my life, through whom I am eternally changed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
