everything is concrete and barbed wire

I sense the Lord wants me to minister in Vancouver, British Columbia. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fabulous “Americana” music scene there… seriously… I promise… why would you even assume that?

I mean, look at my justifications… I mean, the facts (i.e. stuff I found on Wikipedia):
- population of 587,891 – with a metropolitan region spanning 2,180,737 (expected to reach 2.6 million by 2020)… that’s a lot of souls
- ethnically diverse population where more than half of the residents have a first language other than English
- over one-quarter of the population is Chinese, with several language groups represented
- many monocultural neighborhoods, such as the Punjabi Market, Little Italy, Greektown and Japantown
- other ethnic groups in area include South Asians (mostly Punjabis), Vietnamese, Filipino, Korean, Cambodian and Japanese.
- growing emphasis on co-housing to prevent urban sprawl
- concern is being expressed over a growing homeless population, exacerbated by conversion of single-room housing into rental properties for the 2010 Olympics.
- the city’s Downtown Eastside neighborhood is characterized by entrenched poverty, sex trade and drug markets

Unfortunately, Vancouver is a very expensive place to live. So, if you want to support my music addiction…. eh, hem… that is, my outreach… please send cash.




~Junkie Song~

Took a walk in my neighborhood
At two in the morning
By the skytrain station
The streets were full of junkies and homeless
And they all wanted something
They all wanted something

And what am I supposed to do?
There are too many of you
Too many of you
Give some change, look you in the eye
Say that I too am human, I could easily be you

Don’t we all hover between apathy and compassion?
Fill up all our days with so much distraction
Makes it easier to see what we don't want to
But we all live here
We all live here
We all live here don't we?

pull up a chair...

...or, here, take mine.

I was talking with a friend yesterday about community development and missions and such, and he relayed a conversation he had recently with someone he holds a great deal of respect for. They were discussing in James where it discusses the discrimination involved in offering a good seat to a man in fine clothes while telling a poor man to sit on the floor at your feet. My friend's dilemma was that he leans toward the opposite tendency... that of showing favoritism to the poor man at the expense of the rich. How does one find room at the table for both? His conversation partner had a simple response ~ surrender your own seat, and voluntarily take your place on the floor.

In a related story, our very own Ramon Chaparro has had an essay published at Burnside Writers Collective. I'm quite proud of him, so I invite you all to read, comment and discuss.

Establishing tables of equality can start nowhere other than in our own lives. Who do we invite into our homes? Whose are the voices that we let speak into our lives? If we find ourselves agreeing with everyone we spend time with, it might be time we broadened our social circles a bit. This is not simply a matter of being cosmopolitan. This is a foundational step in what it means to move toward a different society, a better kingdom - a kingdom where the weak come to the table with as much confidence as the strong that they will be heard.

~ Ramon Chaparro

have you got nothing to say?

There is a post I am aching to work on, and I talked to Marty about it today, but I am so doped up on allergy/sinus meds that I can not even get it started. So instead, I will fall back to one of the music posts. I did not intend to jump right in with this particular show, but it is the one foremost in my mind, and I know that Gretchen and Aubrey will appreciate it. Besides, I did vow to be unhindered by chronology, and I do not wish to be considered a hypocritical blogger.

The year was 1998, only a few months until I would graduate from college. The “Christian Coalition” was alive and well at OBU, a tornado had wiped out a good portion of downtown Arkadelphia almost a year before, and a little band with three guys had a pretty popular video which featured some sexy little turtlenecks. Now most of the students on our campus thought this was a pretty little ditty, paying nary enough attention to the lyrics to understand that the guy was talking about the painful experience of driving his girlfriend to get an abortion and the numbness that followed. Luckily, by this point I had met my musical soul mates who enjoyed not only this tune but all of the brilliantly beautiful talent, sarcasm and insight that was Ben Folds Five.

Being as we were well into the semester and the concert was on a Wednesday night, we had a pretty quick turnaround time. Aubrey, Gretchen and I hit the road after our afternoon classes and headed west to the Metroplex. I’d like to say we drove straight to Deep Ellum, but Dallas is a bit like the elusive Emerald City… so, in fact, we drove around for a bit trying to get to the gigantic island of downtown buildings we could see clearly but could not for any of our lives figure out how to get to.

Once we finally made our way down to Deep Ellum, we parked the car, put our money in the proper parking slot (remember this part, you’ll be quizzed on it later) and headed over to stand in line for this general admission show. *sidenote* Can we please note the ticket price of $15.00?! Inflation has been a bit excessive over these 10 years…

Ending up with quite a nice spot in line, we began making friends with those in line around us. This comes in quite handy, as we will see later. In particular, there were three people we thoroughly enjoyed getting to know. One of the guys, obviously a Weezer fan, was sporting an Izod cardigan and Buddy Holly glasses. His compadre (and, as we would later learn, bandmate) looked like a mechanic in his Dickies outfit (mechanic’s girlfriend was with him, but her appearance was fairly non-descript, though she was kind and friendly). All was fun and happy banter, until we were approached by a girl who we knew from OBU and her friends (one of which would be mine and Gretchen’s future boss at CD Warehouse). The line had grown to snake-like proportions by this time and they wanted to casually squeeze into line with us. Being high on the enjoyment of new friendships, we allowed them to. We were saps.

Once the line got moving, the chick and her friends were long gone to the front of the stage… and, no, space was not reserved for us. However, we did make our way through the crowd to happen upon our friends Buddy & Mechanic, who graciously moved backward to create space in front of them for us.

Robbie Fulks was the opening act, and other than the fact that both acts were from North Carolina, there was absolutely no connection. Did you know North Carolina is the cigarette state? That’s what we learned on February 11, 1998. That, and opening acts who are getting no audience response because they are completely opposite of the band we are geared up to see should not keep playing encores. Encores must be requested by the audience. If the band is not ready, just get off stage and let us talk to pass the time. Don’t make us give you our obligatory attention. *second sidenote* I have since become a Robbie Fulks fan outside of this context…

So the band did eventually take the stage, and they were fabulous. We sang along with every song, joined by Buddy, Mechanic and Mechanic’s Girl. We watched in smug indignation as OBU Chick handed up to the piano a box of conversation hearts on which she had written “To Mr. Ben Folds, love *first name* *middle name* *last name*. I still get a bit nauseous whenever I see these precious little valentines staples.

So after the amazing concert we headed back to the car in a euphoric fog, and encountered some UT-Austin students in quite a different kind of fog. They seemed to have misplaced their car. After some inquiry, we discovered that they most likely had parked their car in the same lot as ours (they were pretty certain), but were not aware that you had to pay to park there. We suggested they call the phone number on the huge “Pay Here or We Will Tow Your Car” sign, and sho’nuff, their car was at the impound lot.

We circled the city until we found the shadiest part of town, stopped at the most well-lit ATM we could find so the UT kids could get cash for their car, dropped them off at the straight-out-of-an-80s-horror-flick impound lot, turned down the twenty-sixth offer to accept some pot as gratitude for our kindness (they were utterly stunned that we would decline their offer) and wished them luck.

After a night spent at Aubrey’s aunt’s house midway between Dallas and Arka-do-nothing, we hit the road to make it back in time for classes. I was actually going to miss my morning Art in the Humanities class, but had made arrangements to attend Gretchen’s class which was later in the day. As we were running a bit late, we called Raouf to let him know that we would indeed be there (we didn’t want to lose our Teacher’s Pet status). Halaby somehow misinterpreted this message from his beloved students, and we found out later had asked our classmates to pray for us as we were having trouble on the road. Regardless, we eventually made it to class, passed our quizzes with flying colors, and dazzled our professor with our love for and knowledge of art.

Some of the best 24 hours of my life.

The pics are of a lovely little card Aubrey sent me that next week to commemorate the experience. *last sidenote* the head in left corner of the picture is the previously mentioned future (past) CD Warehouse boss... a Quentin Tarantino look-a-like.

Jane be Jane. You're better that way.
Not when you try imitating something you think you saw.
Jane be Jane, and, if sometimes that might drive them away, let them stay there.
You don't need them anyway.
You're worried there might not be anything at all inside.
But that you're worried should tell you that's not right.
Don't try to see yourself the way that others do, it's no use.
Jane be Jane.
You've had it harder than anyone could know, so hard to let it go.
But it's your life and you can decorate it as you like.
Beneath the paint and armor in your eyes the truth still shines.
Jane be Jane.

stars of track and field we were...

terrycloth. izod. coordinating outfits. Its a wonder my sister and I didn't stage a formal revolt against my mother... but luckily for her we love her too much.

While my mom's influence on my musical tastes still has lasting influence (she made us listen to country music, and that late 70s/early 80s style is still my favorite; she waxed nostalgic on the 50's and 60's; and she introduced me to Steve Earle), my sister was definately my saving grace when it came to music appreciation.

I've always been fairly easy to please when it comes to music. When I was young, my interests primarily revolved around two women, Dolly & Madonna.

and I loved anything on MTV (or Friday Night Videos prior to that)... especially the Go-Gos and Scandal. We are the kids in America... indeed

After my parents divorced, my mom remarried and we moved to New Mexico to be near her family. The silver lining? A fabulous music scene and a sister four years older who soaked it up. And unlike her red version of the yellow track shorts I already owned, these hand-me-downs were eagerly received. I fell into REM on my own, but in fourth grade she had me listening to the Violent Femmes and falling in love with Morrissey (at that time still part of the Smiths). While the posters papering our walls were a bit frightening, I was developing a life-long love of music... especially music not everyone listened to... music you had to stay up late and catch the midnight show to hear... music you received from a copy of a copy of a tape your friend's older brother got from the ex-girlfriend of the band's road manager. Remember when you had to scotch tape the little black cassettes to tape over them? Good times. So, here's to New Wave/Punk and what it ushered in. You created a monster.

~ my comfort zone ~

Put her fiddle in a box
Said it's getting awful late
She's on her way to Little Rock
and Little Rock can't wait
~ Sis Draper
Guy Clark


TONIGHT: food, music, community, joy

31 flavors and then some...

So I was browsing around Pollstar today (in between working very hard, of course) and I think I have Spring fever. Below is my “narrowed down” list of shows I would like to catch (the bold are ones I probably actually will):

3/17 - Sondre Lerche @ Gypsy Tea Room (Dallas); 3/17 - Vienna Teng in Dallas; 3/31 - Tim Reynolds @ Revolution; 3/31 - The Greencards @ Sticky Fingerz; 4/7 - Patrice Pike @ Sticky Fingerz; 4/7 – Guster in Dallas; 4/11 - Old Crow Medicine Show @ George’s Majestic (Fayetteville); 4/13 - Runaway Planet @ Whitewater; 4/13 - Neko Case in Memphis; 4/18 - Brandi Carlile in Memphis; 4/21 - Soul Asylum @ Horseshoe Casino(Memphis-ish); 4/23 - Lucinda Williams in Memphis; 4/25 - Runaway Planet @ Sticky Fingerz (KABF Benefit); 4/27 - Chantal Kreviazuk in Dallas; 4/29 - Big Head Todd @ Horseshoe Casino; 5/2 - Son Volt @ Revolution; 5/2 - Norah Jones in St Louis; 5/8 - Erykah Badu in Dallas; 5/9 - Joss Stone in Dallas; 5/11 - Old 97’s in Dallas; 5/27 - India.Arie @ the Orpheum (Memphis)

Little Rock’s older, cooler sister Memphis has a fun line up as always for her Beale Street Music Festival (even though I’ve sworn off ever paying money again for such a well stocked yet poorly executed festival): Social Distortion, Old Crow Medicine Show, Barenaked Ladies, Corrine Bailey Rae, Counting Crows, Guster, John Legend…

Pat Benatar will be playing at this year’s Riverfest, though Gretchen has informed me that she now refuses to sing Hit Me With Your Best Shot. Come on Pat! Even Steve Earle performed Copperhead Road, and he deserves to be smug about his music:

A Various Assortment of Drunk Riverfest Patrons Screaming at Random Intervals Both Between and During Songs: “Play Copperhead Road!”

The Beautiful and Talented Steve Earle: “Do you really think I’m not going to play that song? Do you really think I’m not going to play it? I’ll play it when I’m damn good and ready to.”




I started to make this post about the “top ten shows” I’ve been to, but the list just kept growing and I kept thinking of stories surrounding each one. Therefore I’ve decided to launch a series a la Myles’s “life in coffee”. If nothing else, it should keep me out of writer’s block hell for a while and provide entertaining memories for the people who were actually there with me. So, be on the lookout and let me know if you have any special requests (I’m not planning to go in any kind of sequential or sentimental order).

the waiting is the hardest part...

Perhaps there is only one cardinal sin: impatience. Because of impatience we were driven out of Paradise, because of impatience we cannot return.
~ W.H. Auden

And you may ask yourself, what is that beautiful house?And you may ask yourself, where does that highway go?And you may ask yourself, am I right? Am I wrong?And you may tell yourself, my God! What have I done?
~ Talking Heads

Probably the closest thing I’ve had to my dream house is the one Gretchen and I refer to affectionately and simply as “the Hillcrest house.” Despite the fact that it was falling apart - the rent was cheap, the location was perfect, and the porch was fabulous! It was rarely as festive as we had dreams of it being, since our friends tended to be scattered about, but it definitely had its shining moments.



Growing up, change was just another abnormal part of life ~ people, houses, circumstances… everything was consistently in flux. I always had an infatuation with houses. I would draw house plans with a separate room for every activity imaginable and individual bedrooms for each of my eight children. I pored over home decorating magazines and noted the necessities for a cozy abode: lots of windows (check), throw pillows (check), fresh flowers (check, check). I even cut out a picture of the perfect laundry room.

After living in a dorm for four years, I immediately grabbed myself an apartment after graduating from college. A cheap two-bedroom in Southwest Little Rock (I had taken a job in addiction services for a mere $18,000 salary), was quickly filled with flea market finds and cheap-but-cozy-what-nots to create an instant first home. And the little snowball of debt that had formed in college started rolling.

I had practiced waiting all of my life (though rarely voluntarily), and I had given into the lie that having a job meant you didn’t have to wait anymore. If I want it, I should get it. After all, I’ll pay for it… eventually.

I’m paying for it now. And payment = patience. I got a bug to open a Bed and Breakfast back in my junior year of college, when I went by myself to Boston and stayed in a tiny leaky room with a shared bathroom at a B&B run by a very eccentric old man. I was smitten. That desire has only intensified, fueled by the idea of giving my friends who are headed out all over the world a place to call home in Little Rock, even if they have no family here. While I’m very good at planning everything I would do with my “Guest House”, I am less skilled at implementing the necessary steps to get out of debt and save money to make the dream a reality. And the older I get, the more I feel like I deserve it now… whether or not I have done anything needed to acquire it. I suppose maturity doesn’t automatically come with age.

Patience requires true and hard examination of priorities. It requires consistency and determination. It requires wise stewardship. I like flexibility. I like surrounding myself with artifacts. I like giving… whether or not I have it to give. Patience means surrendering what you want today, for what may come tomorrow. There is no guarantee in patience.

I have a True Love Waits card I signed in high school. I’m still waiting. Somehow with this commitment I know that the payoff of waiting is so much greater than the fleeting enjoyment of giving in… yet I also know that there is no guarantee of marriage. I’m ok with that. So why is this business of sacrificing immediate gratification of material wants now for the greater possibility of my dream later so difficult for me to wrap my heart around?


This is my dream porch. I don’t know these people (wish I did… its The Be Good Tanyas and friends), but they’re on my porch. A gathering spot… music… conversation… laughter… rejuvenation. This is what the wait is for.

I’m gazing in these deep well waters, where the pennies of my life have all been cast. I’ve decided I am going to save my money to do something that lasts. I’m past the wishing.
~ Sara Groves

Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be...

Shooter Jennings put on a great show last time he was in town.
Not sure if I will make it this time or not, but if you get a chance you should check him out at Revolution this Friday night (9ish). Besides, he's hot (except in Walk the Line with his hair cut and face shaved... that was just weird...)!

Writing my stories on my worst mornings; Pulling my heart strings to help me find myself...

stuff

I really want this.




...or maybe I was just inspired by Ramon's latest post?


...or maybe I should stop window shopping and go to sleep?

~ bring on spring ~

I am definately ready for spring cleaning... new growth... longer periods of light

I've finally been ready to write the last few weeks, and then I couldn't remember my damn login. Many thoughts were lost to their moments, and that frustrates me to no end. My mind has been preoccupied with so many other things the past few months, and it is in need of some serious release.

...your mental illnesses arrive at the desk like your sickest, most secretive relatives. And they pull up chairs in a semicircle around the computer, and they try to be quiet but you know they are there with their weird coppery breath, leering at you behind your back. (Anne Lamott ~ Bird by Bird)

Organization is becoming my muse. Every item I can get rid of seems to be space created for exploring new ideas. Every weight released opens up another corner of my imagination. Every dream surrendered to reality is a new platform from which to jump off. Concreteness and disillusionment mixed with eternal optimisim... this is my starting point.

Here's to the short Arkansas Spring, may it bring refreshment and usher in a bit of clarity.

Moonlight be a friend tonight, we're all wrecked up on these dreams. Holding on a bit too tight, I've got splinters from these moonbeams. If it seems I'm falling down, if it seems we're falling through, darling you know that is nothing... you know that is nothing new. (VOL)

~ junk mail ~

I just received an email in my "bulk mail" folder from the following sender:

Habakkuk Rothfuss

I, of course, deleted the offer of cheap pharmaceuticals. However, I was quite intrigued with the name seeing as it combined my favorite book of the Bible with my last name and my current demeanor...

screw weight watchers...

... for today, at least (I'll eat Kashi tomorrow)!

I started a new novel last night, and read five or six chapters until I fell asleep. I woke up and ironed a short-sleeve blouse and capri pants, before rushing off to work.

I jumped in my car, turned on the engine and stopped...

I looked at my temperature gauge. I rolled down my window. I listened to the Po' Girl CD start back up on my dash. I watched the squirrels, who are slowly demolishing our trees to store up their treasures, scurry and chase each other in the yard. I took in the sights and sounds, while feeling the beautiful 67 degree air filter through my car. I breathed in the scent of the lotion I made at Bath Junkie this week (colored orange for the upcoming season, with the swirling scents of oatmeal, milk & honey and cloves). I couldn't move. Autumn is coming.

I wanted my sense of taste to experience the approach of the hallowed season as well, so I pulled into the new Starbucks five steps from my house. I was not disappointed: the pumpkin spice latte has arrived! I paired it with a cranberry-orange scone for a bit-o-heaven on earth.

There is no greater season than the one where leaves change and fall... with the promise to return alive and refreshed after the brief winter chill. Soon I will be enjoying the coziness of wool skirts, turtle necks, hooded sweaters, leather clogs, fluffy blankets... warmth and comfort. In summer people wonder why you're staying cooped up inside your house... in autumn it’s expected of you.

Curl up in a chair, cover yourself with a blanket, sip a cup of chai and devour novel after novel. Drive north, observe the crimson, copper, saffron and amber dripping from the tree limbs and pull over at every flea market along the way. Sit on the porch (or sit on someone else's), listen to bluegrass music and talk into the late hours of the evening. Embrace the season for all its worth... its worth a lot.

How Not To Get Married...

My well intentioned plan of writing incessantly over my vacation unfortunately never came to fruition. Many of you have been kind enough to inform me of this (some of you multiple times), just in case in my whirl of relaxation I failed to recognize this fact. Rest assured, I am well aware of the status of my blog and have been reading Bird by Bird in an effort to cure my ailment.

With that out of the way, I would like to approach the promised subject of Dating Advice from the Pollack Brothers. Timely advice, I might add, seeing as the boys returned yesterday from nomadic adventures abroad (no doubt scattering their seeds of wisdom about as they traveled).

It all started when our home hosted a yard sale to benefit the nomads’ travels.

Actually, that’s untrue… it all started almost a year ago with Angelika and I purchased a birthday gift for young Meredith. We had Bible Study every Sunday night at Angelika’s, and had decorated the apartment in orange (Methy’s signature color) in celebration of her life. Meredith came in, excited by all of the beautiful decorations, and was presented with her gift. Angelika and I, concerned for Meredith’s relationship prospects (and having no sage advice to offer of our own), had chosen for her a book entitled How to Get a Date Worth Keeping. This would have been enough to make Meredith hurl, but the subtitle was the icing on the cake: Be Dating in Six Months or Your Money Back. We all had a good laugh as we read the back cover and table of contents, and Meredith thanked us like any polite Southern girl for our gracious gift.

So the book sat on some dark shelf or piled in a random corner in Meredith’s apartment for months until she began packing to move off to graduate school.

Then one weekend our home hosted a yard sale to benefit the nomads’ travels. Friends brought by boxes of picture frames, vases, books, random kitchen appliances and various odds-and-ends for the community to barter over. It started early, and we were very tired all day… therefore, everything was extremely humorous. We tried on clothes, came up with new uses for old items and marveled at the visitors and conversations that ensued.

And then Marty picked up the book. He started reading excerpts from chapters to us out loud. We laughed hysterically. Then we informed him it was a Christian author. He stood incredulously. And this was his reaction: (*** for some reason, blogger won't let me attach the photos, so you will have follow this link. please note how nicely Heather’s snake skin cowgirl hat compliments his grey wife-meeter)

What could have caused such a reaction from such a subdued man, you ask? There is sooo much, I couldn’t help but give you the play-by-play:

THE PROGRAM
(you’re supposed to put a team together that you meet with on a regular basis to hold you accountable for fulfilling these steps, by the way)
Step One: Log the Number of Eligibles You Meet Each Week
New People + Interest + Ability to Follow Through = A Date
Step Two: Log the Reason for the Number

(if you don’t meet any new people, have no interactions, or can’t get their contact information, there’s obviously something wrong with you)
Step Three: Own the Reason for the Numbers and Play the Movie
(in which Dr. Cloud encourages you to buy another book of his to help figure out why you’re so hopeless)
If You Say “There Are No Good Prospects,” You Don’t Get It.
(well, now I feel encouraged… maybe he should check the statistics on single men vs. women… and especially on single Christian men vs. single Christian women!)
Oh, and he quotes a verse (Proverbs 13:4) ~ The sluggard craves and gets nothing, but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied.
Meet Five a Week
Now, the point of this particular exercise is apparently not about finding a date as much as it is about finding yourself… Screw the fact that you have no intention of calling the guy you just got a number from and he will sit at home feeling dejected because he truly thought you were interested in him… this isn’t about his feelings, it is about you finding your dynamic dating self!
Change Your Traffic Pattern
At Mosaic, we have worked hard from the beginning to emphasize that our Young Adults Ministry is not a Singles Ministry, it is not an entertainment ministry and it is definitely not a dating service. If natural relationships develop in the midst of serving God in community, that’s fabulous. But if someone comes to our church for the express purpose of finding someone to marry, they probably won’t stay long.

However, Dr. Cloud seems to see visiting churches as a great place to hook up, and if you don’t have luck at the first one, keep shopping around. After all, shouldn’t the body of Christ be akin to one big cocktail party where the focus is on the mixing and mingling and such? He also references a group called SWARM (Single Women Actively Recruiting Men) who would throw parties and gatherings to set people up. I kept looking for the “just kidding” part.
Get Over the Stigma: Join a Service
…where the advice includes: “Don’t limit yourself, when you create your profile, with a rigid list of requirements and expectations.”
… because, obviously, you wouldn’t want a service you’re paying for to return a quality product?
Stick With It, and Get Your Numbers Up
Again with the numbers… geesh! Oh, and more scripture (Ecclesiastes 11:1,6): Cast your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will find it again… Sow your seed in the morning, and at evening let not your hands be idle, for you do not know what will succeed, whether this or that, or whether both will do equally well.
Hey, Beavis… this guy wants me to Sow my Seed every morning… ha ha… ha ha…
Get Your Team Together
My favorite part of this chapter is that he states one of the things you will need “as you walk the dating path” is “wisdon”. The editor didn’t catch that?! My spell check just tried to correct it three times!
Tie Me to a Tree
because you wouldn’t actually want to pursue one of these numbers you’re racking up…
Don’t Limit Yourself to a Type
1. If dating is not about marriage, why does it matter? (just use people to get your numbers up)
2. Types are often rooted in pathology. (which is why you’re single in the first place…)
3. You don’t know what you don’t know. (because dating is the only way to get to know people)
4. Practice being a person and have good experiences. (its not personal, its business…)
Check Your Expectations at the Door
Forget Love at First Sight
Go Out With Almost Anyone Once, and Maybe Again
Date a Non-Christian?
I lumped the above four together because they fly square in the face of all of the curriculum and camps I spent my high school experience listening to. And why are these things suddenly ok? Because, apparently dating suddenly has nothing to do with marriage. (oh, and Conservative Christianity is suddenly terrified that there are not enough children to indoctrinate and that all of the adults who are products of their “True Love Waits” and “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” campaigns will turn into homosexuals and take over the world)
Drop Your Hankie (or Palm Pilot)
Bend and Snap, baby… Bend and Snap…
Follow a Strategy from Beginning to Middle to End
Be Yourself from the Beginning
Don’t Play Games
Wait, I’m really confused…. Program, Strategy, Log, Numbers… Be Yourself & Don’t Play Games…
Where is the Testosterone?
Apparently we are not to be picky or have expectations, but we should draw the line at passive men. (Men with a totally different world view than our own are fine, but passiveness is completely unacceptable)
Keep Your Boundaries and Don’t Settle
Well this sounds like a fool proof program absolutely not developed by a schizophrenic, moving on…

Get Your Dating Self in Shape
Since I spent so much time on the program, I’ll simply focus on the chapter in this section entitled “Unleash Your Libido or Reel It In”. Marty really enjoyed the quote (which was in bold and set apart from the rest of the text): I do not advocate sexual acting out. I advocate sexual ownership as a part of who you are.

So why am I so hard on Dr. Cloud and his book? (Why did we all get such a good laugh out of it?) Part Four of the book is titled “Stay Focused on What’s Important”. We thought that was what we were trying to do. Living Godly lives in community with other believers, sharing God’s love, serving each other, serving as the Body of Christ together. We had no idea that what was really important was finding a mate so that we could move to the suburbs and live in little individual houses and raise kids who love Jesus. Don’t get me wrong, we know those things are important… I love families and I love kids and I really love families and kids who love Jesus. My point is, singleness is not about making lists and swapping churches and trying people out until you find one that fits. Singleness is about living life just like any Christian should… pursuing God and his call on your life with passion, living out the “red-letter” words of Jesus in everyday encounters, learning and radiating contentment as you grow in your relationship with the Creator of the Universe. If someone comes along for you to share that with, fabulous… and it’s not that I don’t think we should pursue potential dating relationships. But this “program” seems to require a lot of focus and effort, and I would rather give that focus and effort to the Lord.

So the dating advice I received from the Pollack brothers was:
a. rip this book apart and throw it in the trash (I’m throwing it away as soon as I’m done typing the summary)
b. continue living as a woman of God… offering hospitality, looking for ways to serve others and spread the love of Christ for all people, being mindful of how my actions can affect my brothers and sisters in Christ, devouring God’s Word, lifting praise and thanksgiving to the Lord…
c. Brad promised to write his own “dating guide” based on the life of Paul which he would title If You Must…

~ nothing gold can stay ~

It's time to say goodbye to my favorite flip-flops, which have journeyed through New York City, Portland, St Louis, Memphis, Dallas, Nashville, D.C. and half the state of Massachusetts. The tread is non-existent, the sequins are rapidly disappearing and I have superglued the thong into the sole one too many times.

I am finally breaking down and ordering these (featured on the lovely feet of Angelika and Becca):

They should arrive this week. Hurrah!

***Coming Attractions***

Life has been crazy ~ but I am approaching a two-week vacation, and plan to take advantage of writing time. Some of the things you get to look forward to reading:

• Relationship Advice From the Pollock Brothers... or, How Not to Get Married
• On Becoming a Sender (Learning to Live with Leaving)
• Poverty is not a Family Value: a recap of the Sojourner's Pentecost 2006 Conference
• (and in related news...) The Natural State of Poverty: a blog in waiting
• On Sweet Potatoes and Shiner Bock... or, How to Value Friendships

Any other requests? I will also be working to update my links and maybe play around with revamping the site a little. Stay tuned in eager anticipation...

on creating tiny green ducks...

I was extremely exhausted last night. A stressful day at work on Friday, rushing straight home to take care of yard sale details (picking up tables, making and hanging signs) and then hanging out with Angelika that evening. Yard sale early Saturday morning after about 3 hours of sleep (we raised over $400 for Candy's trip... rock!), clean up, and then crashing at my parent's house while doing laundry (am I really 30?!). Today holds church, golf and the beginning of our new small group study (Celebration of Discipline... v.g.).

The hanging out part was actually an evening oasis... we colored in signs while listening to the Emmylou Harris live at the Ryman album, secured the signs around the neighborhood and then headed down to Cornerstone Pub for bluegrass and beer. While there, we planned Runaway Planet's European tour in our heads, as well as my new consulting career training Austrian government officials how to implement a "yard sale culture" in their country. Angelika is taking home labels from New Belgium's 1554 and Little Rock's own Diamond Bear Southern Blonde (they don't serve Shiner Bock at Cornerstone... something must be done about this... at least there is plenty at home in the fridge). I asked our waitress if the Cornerstone t-shirts said Arkansas anywhere on them ~ Gretchen's birthday is approaching. Our wonderful waitress, who worked the whole room alone and kept a smile on her face, found out that they did not list the city and state, but did bring a Cornerstone pen with the location info on it... congratulations, G-dawg, you're getting a pen!

So I'm exhausted last night, and I'm watching one of those high school comedies on cable about dating mayhem and hidden love and wanting to be cool and realizing that none of that matters (ok, so I watched intermittent sections of the movie in between 20 minute naps). Lack of sleep coupled with exposure to gratuitous displays of modern humanity bring out the philosopher in me, the "life is about sooo much more than this" in me, the "how sad is that children out there really do think that high school is this important, and how sad is it that their parents perpetuate this myth" in me.

This state of mind eventually spins out of control and leads me to contemplating things like my pajama pants. Of course, I'm not contemplating the fact that I own probably 10 different pairs of pajama pants ~ that, my friends, has nothing to do with being a disciple of consumer culture. Instead, I contemplate the creation of tiny green ducks. My pj pants are pink (of course), with a semi-random pattern of ducks all over it. One line has a large yellow duck followed by a row of tiny yellow and green ducks. Another line has the large yellow duck (headed the alternate direction) followed by a line of tiny yellow ducks and one tiny green duck at the end, with an additional tiny green duck trailing behind. Still another line has a large yellow duck and a large green duck, followed by a row of tiny green and yellow ducks. With perhaps a few missed exceptions, this is the pattern that exists all up and down my legs. And it hits me - someone designed this pattern. Someone sat at a computer and designed tiny green ducks for my pj pants, a pattern which was then duplicated and formed into a fabric which would be used to mass produce pj pants for consumerists like me to grab up for $9.99 a pair at Old Navy (mine were on sale, of course, so I think they were more like $2.99 ~ rock.) Someone studied Literature and Trigonometry and European History in high school, got into college, chose a graphic design major, stressed over tests, produced a senior project, landed an entry-level position, and worked their way up to produce tiny green ducks for my mass-produced pj pants. Or perhaps the tiny green ducks are just a random creation of a well-programmed computer somewhere. I have nothing against graphic design and I love most graphic designers I have met, I do not mean to single out their profession. However, they were the focus of this particular late night contemplation on how complicated and frivolous God's world has become (because it is not, after all, our world).

We were created to wander naked through a garden and eat anything we wanted (without the need of creative labeling or clever marketing), except for the fruit of one tree. But we ate that fruit, and I eat of it every day. Daily I create a list of "I want..." and "Wouldn't it be great to have..." and "If only I had..." and, of course, "ooh, I need...". I have an over abundance of possessions as is. And there is nothing that I need. God is enough, and He is everything. Yet last night, I bought the new Blue Bell Ice Cream "Delta Blues" flavor (blueberries... nuff said) ~ comfort food which will lead me to lamenting the current shape of my body which God designed to be naked and eat things that are not processed in a factory.

And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past... (Gatsby)

yella' dawgs & flaming liberals

Ladies & Gentlemen, I am going to DC! I received an email today with a new scholarship offer, and I decided I would figure out a way to pay for the rest. So I am going to be participating in the Emerging Leaders Track of the Sojourners/Call to Renewal conference on poverty initiatives. Please be in prayer for my confidence ~ I'm nervous about the "Capitol Hill" day.

contemplation on salvation

Today I purchased a set of pink golf clubs and the new Jolie Holland CD. Tonight I will be joining Angelika and Meredith for the season finale of Gilmore Girls (our last one together before Angelika heads home to Austria and Meredith heads on to her missions training at ORU). My new apartment is painted and my roomies move in this week. Despite all of the frustrations at work right now, life is sweet. Track 6 on Miss Holland's album is not only a beautiful song, but also an honest look into the heart of someone struggling with the surrender to Christ (or at least that's the way I took it ~ I'm sure I'll research it later):

My sullen songs have taken me
Far down this darkened road
I have seen the campfires burning
I have heard the drunkards howl
I'm silent in my solitude - I'm quiet as a thief
I have stolen all these hours - I have gotten no relief
My crazy dreams and tragedies have taken me for a ride
But I can see strange glory on the other side
this has been my misery and the source of my pride
But all along I'm thinking I've been taken for a ride

Why don't you take me when I'm willing?

But like a stubborn beast when the barn is on fire
I might resist you when you try to save my life
I might resist you when you try to save my life
When the flames rise around us and I can't see the door
This is still my home and it has never burned before
This is where I've taken my solace and my peace
The walls are caving in but I am still a stubborn beast

Why don't you take me when I'm willing?

~ Jolie Holland
Stubborn Beast (album: Springtime Can Kill You)

I think Miss Holland should go chill with Mark Olson and Victoria Williams out in Joshua Tree for awhile and allow God to weave his love into her heart strings. They can sit on the porch with the dogs and contemplate good music and good mercy and sip tea and strum guitars... In fact, I think I should join them...

Austrian Advice

Angelika offered some sage advice for the Lenten season last night:

Suck it up.

She is a very wise and Godly woman and I am honored to call her friend.

In related news, I have pulled out the cd's from the 2003 Crusade Women's Conference "Made for This" ~ they still inspire me at every listen, so if any of you chicks would like to borrow one let me know! I'm trying to find info on how to obtain additional copies, but they're not at the online store. However, I did find other messages from the same speakers that I may have to check out! (I'll ask Sarah - my Cru guru).

~ High-Carb Diet ~

Perhaps it has something to do with the melancholy weather, but I have been listening to my Bread cd since Friday morning. I have 3 observations:

1. Dismal Day is the most depressing song ~ and yet it puts me in a wonderful mood
2. Travis completely ripped off Bread ~ Flowers in the Window is one of my favorite Travis songs, but I realized this weekend that they completely stole it from Bread's Look What You've Done
3. Although I plan to name my still-as-yet-pending daughter Aubrey (after my grandfather), I am no longer certain I want to make Bread's Aubrey her theme song (yes, every child must have a theme song) ~ I'm thinking its not necessarily so favorable about this Aubrey character...

Other than that, I'm still enjoying my daily Bread...

don't change your plans for me

You Are Kermit

Hi, ho! Lovable and friendly, you get along well with everyone you know. You're a big thinker, and sometimes you over think life's problems. Don't worry - everyone know's it's not easy being green. Just remember, time's fun when you're having flies!

The Muppet Personality Test

Let your Love flow...

Just let your love flow, like a mountain stream
And let your love grow, with the smallest of dreams
And let your love show, and you'll know what I mean
It's the season
Let your love fly, like a bird on the wing
And let your love bind you to all living things
And let your love shine, and you'll know what I mean
That's the reason
~ Bellamy Brothers

Happy Valentines Day! For some unearthed reason, Valentines is my favorite holiday (St Patricks day is my second favorite ~ It must be the Catholic in me... drawn to the Saints). Rejoice in our ability to show and receive love today ~ and tell someone you love them (someone you know... telling strangers you love them is a bit risky... but if that's you're thing...).

~ Side Note ~
The lyrics above are (obviously) from the Bellamy Brothers. Fun Guys. Other gems include:
If I Said You Had a Beautiful Body (Would You Hold It Against Me?)
Old Hippie
Do You Love as Good as You Look
Redneck Girl
Reggae Cowboy
(I Love You) For All the Wrong Reasons
Lovers Live Longer

quirkyalone?

so, I came across this site (anyone read this book? I haven't heard anything about it). I took the quiz & got the following result:

How quirkyalone are you?
Your score was 90. Very quirkyalone:
Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. Celebrate your freedom on National Quirkyalone Day, February 14th!

according to the website, this is not about being anti-love... it is more about being romantic to the point that you would rather be contently single than be in a relationship just for the sake of being in a relationship... very interesting. of course now I am experiencing deja vu and feel like maybe I have posted about this before. oh well.

~ moral dilemma ~

Those who know me know my devotion to Richard Linklater. Those who know me know I detest Keanu Reeves. So how do I reconcile my love and loathing when I comes to A Scanner Darkly?

... of course, I have been known to watch Sweet November, but that is only because Charlize Theron's apartment is so damn cool!

from the mouths of babes...

(while we're bouncing a ball back and forth, mind you...)

Meredith Li: Are you married?

Me: No.

Meredith Li: Are you single?

Me: Yes.

Meredith Li: I want to be single...

How precious is that? Its enough to make me want to stay single, except then I wouldn't be able to be a momma to kiddos like the Li girls!

six degrees of thought processes...

I felt compelled to post, despite having nothing significant to say ("busy, busy, busy..."). So, here it is... six degrees of my random thought processes:

Those Outlaws are SO HOT right now...

Speaking of Outlaws, I never posted on seeing Walk the Line a few weeks ago... beautiful...

Speaking of Johnny Cash, did I mention I saw Dolly Parton live last Tuesday?!

I just love when Dolly collaborates with Nickle Creek...

Have you heard the new Nickle Creek album? Song #2 (Somebody More Like You) could so be a Ben Folds song...

Whenever I hear Ben's Don't Change Your Plans For Me, I imagine Kermit the Frog singing it on a log...

Speaking of Kermit ~ I ordered Willie Nelson's Rainbow Connection album along with some other non-annoying children's music...

Speaking of Willie... those Outlaws are SO HOT right now!

obsession...

I finally achieved 100% on Angelika's silly little quiz (Who really needs to know where Moldolva is located, anyway? I mean, especially if you have to drop that little country into its exact location with no grid lines to guide you?! Having 44/45 correct with only a 4 mile error is enough to drive any human insane!)

~blame me~

You're Canada!

People make fun of you a lot, but they're stupid because you've got a much better life than they do. In fact, they're probably just jealous. You believe in crazy things like human rights and health care and not dying in the streets, and you end up securing these rights for yourself and others. If it weren't for your weird affection for ice hockey, you'd be the perfect person.

Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid

~Sexy Man of God~

I'm not sure if this represents a mid-life crisis or dream fulfillment, but I'm willing to give it a chance...

~ mistaken lyrics ~

So, I'm supposed to be going to bed and instead I'm watching videos on GAC. They had a video for a new song called My Kind of Music by Ray Scott. Now, I got such a kick out of the lyrics I had to get up and google them. I love the fact that random people are allowed to post lyrics on these lyric websites - especially people who have no clue what the song is actually saying. For example:

We hit the town to catch an early movie. And ol' Crisp Chris Dobson played the leading role. I said "That's my man!" She said "Who's he?" I jumped up and said "Girl, we gotta go!"

Now I'm no Alanis, but wouldn't it be considered irony that the person typing the lyrics about a girl who doesn't know who Kris Kristofferson is actually doesn't know who Kris Kristofferson is? I mean, there is absolutely no way you do not know who the song is speaking of - especially in context - if you know who Kris Kristofferson is. But maybe that's just me, seeing as Kris is on the list of men I'd marry if they'd only ask me... (BTW - he also spelled Waylon "Walen")

Here are some of the actual lyrics:

She don't like to play my kind of music. She don't know Sunday Morning Coming Down. She can't see what's so cool about He Stopped Lovin' Her Today, or Angel Flying too Close to the Ground.

Good night and sweet dreams...

fyi...

One of the housing projects in North Little Rock is named Hemlock Courts. I have always assumed this was the worst of the housing projects, as the name made my skin crawl. I was familiar with the term from Theatre History and AP English in high school, as well as a myriad of humanities classes in college. But today the name came up again and I just wanted to verify it was what I thought it was, so I gave myself a refresher course:

The Ancients were familiar with the plant, which is mentioned in early Greek literature, and fully recognized its poisonous nature. The juice of hemlock was frequently administered to criminals, and this was the fatal poison which Socrates was condemned to drink. The old Roman name of Conium was Cicuta, which prevails in the mediaeval Latin literature, but was applied about 1541 by Gesner and others to another umbelliferous plant, Cicuta virosa, the Water Hemlock, which does not grow in Greece and southern Europe. To avoid the confusion arising from the same name for these quite dissimilar plants, Linnaeus, in 1737, restored the classical Greek name and called the Hemlock (Conium maculatum), the generic name being derived from the Greek word Konas, meaning to whirl about, because the plant, when eaten, causes vertigo and death. The specific name is the Latin word, meaning 'spotted,' and refers to the stem-markings. According to an old English legend, these purple streaks on the stem represent the brand put on Cain's brow after he had committed murder.

I'm thinking a name change is definately in order...

wasted brain space (take 2)

I truly am becoming convinced that somehow getting these random songs out of my head and onto a post is theraputic. Anyone else read the book The Song Reader? I'm thinking I need to have a reading done.

Tesla ~ Love Song

So you think that it's over
Say your love has finally reached the end
Anytime you call, Night or day
I'll be right there for you
If you need a friend
It's gonna take a little time
Time is sure to mend your broken heart
Don't you even worry pretty darlin'
I know you'll find love again
Love is all around you
Love is knocking outside the door
Waitin' for you
Is this love made just for two
Keep an open heart and you'll find love again
I know
Love will find a way
Darlin' Love is gonna find a way
Find it's way back to you
Love will find a way
So look aroundOpen your eyes
Love is gonna find a way
Love is gonna, Love is gonna find a way
Love will find a way
Love's gonna find a wayBack to you
Yeah,I know
do do do do do do, I know
do do do do do do do do, I know

what to do when you're awake...

So I learned from Myles that there's this new little game where you go to google, type in "(your name) needs", and laugh at the results. I'm sure you're just supposed to take the results as they come, but I made up my own rules. For one, I did not include a phrase if it actually came from a list on a blog of another person who was playing the same game. Second, I used both Kimberly and Kim ~ because I can. Third, I grouped my responses into award categories. Fourth, if I found the phrase stupid, psychotic or simply un-funny I didn't include it. Everyone should play this game - I laughed so hard I had to pee!

Most likely to have helped me out over a year ago:
Kimberly needs a career change.

Most likely to set off Rebekah's morality monitor on her computer:
Later, when Kimberly needs to get the media on her side, she seduces an overeager newscaster with a line from a cheesy porn movie...

Most likely to be delivered by Rainbow Brite:
...all Kim needs is a little more love, money and sunshine.

Best use of quotation marks:
Kim may need to "compromise".

Most random phrase containing an automobile:
It takes a bunch of postcards to completely cover a Toyota Celica, and Kim needs more.

Most disturbing phrase I couldn't leave out:
Maybe what Kim needs to do is smoke some pot, get some tattoos and beat some women...

Most likely to have come from an Ionesco play:
Karen needs a stick, Kim needs gloves and Al needs to dump his cotton. Did we learn how to make the best martinis?

Most likely to invoke prayer and fasting on my behalf:
Priestess Kimberly Needs Powerful Protection Spell.

Best collection of phrases:
Kim is just confused... she needs some help, we hope she gets it.
kim needs help big time
Kim needs your help!!
One thing is sure: Kim needs some help.

Most likely to invoke an apology on my part (if I were, indeed, a he):
Kim needs to get his facts straight before condemning Wilton and his son Aaron.

Most likely to invoke a strong opinion from one Mrs. Veslasquez-McBryde:
It seems Miss Kim needs to make a decision, and stop trying to enjoy all the benefits being a dual citizen.

Worst case of using a period rather than a question mark:
Can you tell me why Kim feels the need to keep talking about her sexuality.

Best reason to have someone taken out & fed to the fishes:
I also think Kim needs to quit watching the Godfather and pretending that she is in the mafia. Because I doubt anyone believes her.

Best advice to take to heart:
Kim needs to write more songs about things most people wouldn't write songs about.

Most likely to have made sense back when I was a philosophy major:
Does this explanation provide what Kim needs -- an account that avoids epiphenomenalism while also maintaining physicalism's dictum that the physical realm must be causally closed and that, in fact, purely physical theory must be deemed adequate in principle to explain everything that occurs?

Simply good information to be aware of:
Kim needs to look spiffy for the camera crew that has been shadowing her almost everywhere she goes these days.

Most likely to make me weep in my Ben & Jerry's:
Kimberly never knew love could hurt this much. She realizes she needs to let go.

Most likely to cause me to slap my palm to my forehead:
Silly Kimberly needs all five of her riders around her at all times!

Most likely to generate two snaps up in a circle:
Kim Needs to do Kim! Because no one is trying to hold her down!

Most likely to generate an "Amen, Sista!":
Kim needs partnership, including mental compatibility.

Most likely to have been a recurring dream sequence in college:
Kim needs to call her professor about an assignment.

Most like to have been a recurring dream sequence in high school:
Kim needs a date for the prom-and gets one.

Best entry for a Kimberly care manual:
Kimberly needs expert care and stimulation.

Most likely to dash all of my hopes and dreams:
Kim needs to really give it up.

Most likely to cause me to run and hide:
Two of my cousins feel all Kim needs is a couple sticks of dynamite, and then she'd be out of the way.

Best suggestion I will take under consideration:
I think Kim needs a new title writer. But maybe it's just my head, which hurt to begin with.

Most likely to be added to my Christmas list:
Kim needs a set of large cursor objects (pointers, pencils, and so forth) that match those needed for the design.

Best way to spend time with friends:
Kim needs SAT review, Dave is planning a vacation itinerary and you need a Seinfeld rerun after a tough day in the office.

Most likely to cause me to do some self-examination:
Kim needs to have a little personality remodeling done.
&
Kim needs to re-reinvent herself this time lay off the surgery and the fake Caribbean accent!

Best explanation for the surgery accusation above:
repeated exposure has caused serious damage and now Kimberly needs extensive eye surgery.

Best excuse for investing in my own personal assistant:
Kim needs a good manager/buffer from all of the B-Shyt that she apparently will continue to get herself into.

Most likely to be added to my birthday list:
Kim needs pedagogical help and instructional material for teaching global climate change and deep time.

Best cry for companionship:
Kim needs some Guinea pigs

Most likely explanation as to why I haven't acted in years:
Kim needs to think of a way to not make a fool of herself but still have a chance to perform

Best recommendation I've heard in a long time (even though I don't have kids):
Kim needs financial assistance with school fees for her own children, a computer every two or three years, a living allowance, and discretionary funds for occasional rest and relaxation travel.

Most likely to offend me if I didn't realize they were talking about Lil' Kim:
Kim needs to face the real criminal charges: she's turning into an ugly white woman
Kim should go to jail, in fact she needs to go to jail.

And finally, the award for phrase that had nothing to do with needs but I had to keep it anyway:
... That being said, Kimberly is 100% correct

~ ain't nothing but a G thang ~

This morning I woke up with the sun shining through my window and Tijuana Lady in my head, so I ventured to the G section of my CD drawer. I was immediately greeted by some of the best, though occasionally forgotten, disks in my collection: Garbage, Debbie Gibson (*SHUT IT*), Gin Blossoms, Go Gos, Gomez (the culprit), Gorillaz, David Gray, Macy Gray, Keith Green, Pat Green, Green Day, Patty Griffin, Nanci Griffith, Sara Groves, Guns N' Roses and Guster. (There may quite possibly be other Gs scattered about my room or car)

It hit me how special G is to me. G is a roadtrip longing to happen. G is a lazy Sunday afternoon on the porch with a good book. G is comfort food and a cozy sweater. G is lying on a blanket at a bluegrass festival, with kids dancing and twirling around you. G is french toast and newspaper on the couch with your sweetie.

Quite possibly, G is deserving of its own honored CD drawer. At the very least, G deserves an honored position next to frequently perused W... though those two letters together scare the living crap out of me! So I challenge everyone to celebrate G in your own way today. And if you don't have a G, I'll be happy to loan you one of mine - there's enough love to go around.

too much time on my hands...

I was just wondering if David Spade has ever done a Tommy Shaw impression... I just think it would work. Anyone know?

So I haven't posted any shows for awhile...

New Belgium Brewery Presents:
The Wednesday Night Jam w/ Wildwood and Runaway planet (@ Juanitas)
Every Wednesday night we have the best laid back jam music in Arkansas floating around our fine establishment. Great drinks, great music, great people. Every wednesday, what more could you want?

$2 Fat tire all night long!!!!!! 9 pm - $5

Anyone Interested? (This is Bluegrass for those who don't know my love of Runaway Planet)

kudos...

I don't know this guy, but I like him!

Washington is beautiful and Portland has a fabulous vibe. Kudos to the residents, old and new. While my heart will always be in Little Rock, I will definitely be returning to Portland in the future as a sojourner. I did nothing but eat from the time I left LR! I stayed at Skamania Lodge for the conference, and they had amazing buffets for every meal (complete with local brews and lots-o-salmon)! It was motivating at least to hear stories from other non-profits on the challenges and successes they encountered in putting their ideas into practice. Portland was quick, but fun. Peter made sure to expand my culinary horizons (Lebanese stew and Turkish coffee), Sarah ensured I clocked maximum Starbucks & shopping time (even if she thought my shirt was a skirt) and Ramon introduced me to Palio's (complete with Jolie Holland, partially-used cupcakes and a touch of ginger). I don't speak French. We attended Imago Dei on Sunday, and the lovely Debbie Comin joined us for lunch. Ramon and I briefly explored Powell's books (which should be a vacation in itself), before meeting my cousin and his wife at a pub - who convinced Ramon to throw caution to the wind and pursue a freelance career writing music reviews (if you would like to encourage this endeavor, please send him $$$). I experienced sunshine with intermittent hail storms, tree lined streets covered in autumn leaves, rose gardens in traffic circles and rain that somehow doesn't bother you even as you're getting wet. Oh, and long conversations about whatever came to mind. That's my favorite part ~ sharing stories and drinking coffee and just being in the moment.

wasted brain space...

Do you ever get random songs that creep into your brain and nest for a while, particularly songs from your past that you no longer own and that you haven't heard on the radio in awhile? The ones that just kind of show up unannounced at your doorstep, suitcases in hand? The kind that haunt you periodically and make you question your sanity, like the dancing baby on Alley McBeal?

Sometimes you're better off dead, there's a gun in your hand & it's pointing at your head
You think you're mad, too unstable, kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a West End town, call the police there's a madman around
running down underground to a dive bar in a West End town
In a West End town a dead end world
The East End boys and West End girls
Too many shadows, whispering voices, faces on posters, too many choices
If , when, why, what, how much have you got, have you got it, do you get it
If so, how often, which do you choose a hard or soft option
In a West End town a dead end world
The East End boys and West End girls
You got a heart of glass or a heart of stone, just you wait till I get you home
We've got no future, we've got no past, here today built to last
In every city in every nation from Lake Geneva to the Finland nation

I'm still getting back on Little Rock time, so I promise to write something scathingly brilliant once my traveling dust has settled.

For Amy & Angelika:

H&M news

~ struggle for attention ~

...yet another sobering perspective.

She said love? Lord above!

I apologize for not writing in a while. Internet has been down off-and-on both at home and at work. Of course, I could have taken my laptop to Java and accomplished something there but, to be perfectly honest, I have been spending time with someone lately. I know this may come as a shock to some of you, seeing as I am not prone to fits of spontaneous dating, but I really like this guy. And I wouldn’t call the time I spend with him dating, especially since a date generally entails involvement of both parties. But I have been spending significant time with him and I feel I am a better person because of it. He and I are on the same page.

More precisely, I am on page 75 of Searching for God Knows What. I finally read Blue Like Jazz a few months ago and, after reading a couple of other books, I was drawn back to Donald Miller again to read Searching for God. I was only a few chapters into it when I took a brief interlude to read Through the Painted Desert. Hurricane Katrina has had me glued to my television all week and significant energies have been devoted to the celebration of Yetty and Mac’s marital ceremonies, but I am spending the rest of my Labor Day weekend unwinding with Donald.

I have fallen in love with musicians before (Townes Van Zandt, Gram Parsons, Chris Taylor, Rhett Miller, each and every guy in Old Crow Medicine Show), but rarely with an author that I recall. Most of my favorite authors are women, and since I could never be a lesbian because girls are so catty (aside from the whole morality issue), I have not fallen for any of them. I had an infatuation with Fitzgerald in high school, but our values were too opposed for me to fall in love with him. Donald and I, on the other hand, understand each other. Or rather, I feel like I get him, seeing as he has no idea who I am. Realistically, I am sure he sounds much better on paper. I know that I can present pieces of myself on paper that display my wit, my charm and my eccentricities. However, I can refrain from discussing how I clear my sinuses in the shower, or clip my toenails while watching Best Week Ever, or pull into Shakey’s twice in one day. Or I can tell you all of those things and spin them into quirky anecdotes. My point being, my life isn’t nearly as interesting as my writing and everybody poops. I poop. Jesus pooped. Donald Miller poops. But he is also an excellent writer, and I am drawn to people’s words.

In books, in songs, in conversation – I love the way human use language to interact with one another, and I love people who do it well. That’s why I love Gilmore Girls. Amy Sherman-Palladino focuses so much on what is being said and how it is being said that language and its delivery should win an Emmy for best supporting actor. As much as I adore Sookie and Lorelai, their lives would appear extremely mundane without their witty banter.

So for me, I guess communication and self-presentation skills are what make a person sexy. All of us lead mundane lives, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make them sound more intriguing. Some people have beautiful bodies and some people have beautiful brains, and I know many people who are blessed with both. Some people use their bodies to attract people, and some bodies attract others without trying. Some people use their brains to attract people, and some brains attract others without trying. I don’t know if Donald Miller intended to attract people through his writing, but I for one am definitely smitten.

feel free to read around this post...

How do I respond to the hurricane succinctly? I've been ranting for a week, and I'm yet to be spent. Without having been directly affected by Katrina, I can summarize my emotional state as exhausted, insecure and overwhelmed.

Exhausted. I am exhausted from getting up every morning to view more devastation, listening to talk radio to and from work, and then watching more news until I force myself asleep. I am exhausted from September 11, an ensuing war my President naively tried to convince me was a logical solution, a Tsunami in countries already devastated, hundreds of muslims trampled off a bridge to their deaths in a river that is part of our creation story, and millions of human mishaps in between. I am exhausted from working daily to help women rebuild their lives and families, and now seeing countless additional families devastated.

Insecure. There was actually a brief period of time during which I supported the war on Iraq (or at least, didn't oppose it). Gretchen can tell you, I was vehemently opposed to the idea. And then Colin Powell spoke, and I have a great deal of respect for Colin Powell. For a brief period, I thought maybe I was reacting too emotionally. Maybe I should trust our elected (though against my vote) decision makers. That angle didn't sit long with me, and I have questioned not only Bush's decision making and planning skills but also his character and ability to admit when he's wrong (especially when lives are held in the balance). When asked if would have been better able to respond to this crisis if we didn't have so much energy focused on Iraq, Bush replied that we have to fight the war against terror. Supposedly, our government had no warning that the events of 9/11 were going to take place. We responded to those attacks by waging war against Saddam Hussein - a smoke and mirrors attempt to ignore the real problem by creating a bigger one. We created a Department of Homeland Security and sent our National Guard to rebuild the country we destroyed. And then came a category five hurricane - a hurricane we knew about in enough time to issue a widespread evacuation warning. Our federal government claims that the war on terror is for the safety and protection of its citizens, yet it was unable to respond to a crisis that will have more far-reaching consequences on our nation than 9/11 could have ever had (and which they knew was coming). I feel completely insecure. Our troops are dying and we are no safer as a nation than we were before.

Overwhelmed. I am not sure our nation gets the impact of Katrina yet. Its not just about high gas prices or rebuilding a beloved city. Its not even about the thousands of dead yet to be uncovered or the blemish on the nation's security system. Families have been torn apart and worldviews have been obliterated. Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama are among the poorest states in the nation. Those states closest, lending a helping hand, don't fare much better. I don't know a whole lot about Houston, but I spent a week there in high school volunteering at a homeless shelter, and I know that the social problems there are expansive. I can speak more directly on the situation here in Arkansas. About three months ago our state attempted to streamline child care vouchers to be handled through DCCECE rather than jointly through DCCECE & TEA (Arkansas TANF). There was a lot of confusion and no clear answers with this process, and some clients are still trying to sort out their services (and now have bills hanging over their heads). Just this week, all TEA services were moved out of DHS to the independently contracted PSI. Clients go through intake at DHS and are referred to PSI. Clients apply for child care through DCCECE, but TEA vouchers are then monitored by PSI. The day before the switchover, PSI Case Managers directed questions to TEA Case Workers and TEA Case Workers insisted that all questions should go to PSI Case Managers. And the process is actually more complicated than I'm making it sound. In the midst of this chaos comes Katrina, and at least 4,000 refugees that need to be processed into our public assistance programs. A DHS worker confided to me Friday that no one knows who is supposed to be handling what, and they are already overloaded as is. An employee at North Little Rock Housing Authority was exhausted Thursday afternoon, telling me they had been moving storm victims in that day to apartments that had just been vacated. I thought about the number of clients I have already on the waiting list for apartments there. We have been having discussions at our facility over how to effectively organize the use of our five vans to better serve clients and staff. The Governor called up state vehicles this week to help with relief efforts, and now we are down to two vans. I don't intend to sound like I don't support the relief effort - I wish we could do more. Yet the reality exists that this crisis could cripple an already dysfunctional system.

My response to the Tsunami was to post Habakkuk. I still feel that is the best I can muster. Yet I will trust. There is so much meaninglessness in the world, and I know I contribute to it. The best I can do in light of these tragedies is peel off layers of selfishness and materialism from my life and fight like hell not to latch back on to them when life gets comfortable. The best I can do is live my life for others, and trust God to sort it all out in the end.