Stumbling Into Grace

We've moved!

2011-09-01T20:46:00.000-07:00

Hi friends.

As of today, the blog can be found at my personal website:

Heather Minton

Come say hello, and tell your friends.

When someone's in trouble.

2011-08-23T13:34:00.000-07:00

So, I've debated this post for a little while now, but I think it's important. I'm going to keep the details of the post very vague, so I can respect the privacy of everyone involved. If you find this post helpful, please feel free to link to it and share it with your friends.

A few nights ago, I began to receive texts from a friend that concerned me. The messages were increasingly despondent in a brief period of time, and my friend made it clear they were planning on taking some drastic action. I had just arrived at another friend's house, and was not sure how best to respond.

I texted with this friend for a short time, asking repeatedly if they were alright, if they were alone, if they had done anything to harm themselves. My friend refused to answer any of my questions. I know this person to be a devoted parent, and they would not respond to questions about their children or other family members.

I was growing more and more concerned, and called my friend. I was concerned by what I heard on the phone, and my questions were evaded. My friend said goodbye and hung up.

Not knowing what else to do, I called the local Suicide Prevention Hotline. Based on what I told her (in about ten seconds), the woman on the phone advised me to call 911 immediately.

I did so, and heard from someone a short time later. I don't know the details of my friends' situation (then or now), but I know that help arrived.

If you find yourself in a similar situation:

1. Call someone.

Regardless of where you are, or if you are calling for a friend or yourself, you can reach the National Suicide Prevention hotline at 1-800-784-2433 (Portlanders, the local number is 503-988-4888).

IF YOU THINK SOMEONE IS IN IMMEDIATE DANGER, CALL 911.

No matter what. In this situation, being wrong is the best possible situation. Don't let the fact that you might be wrong stop you.

2. Don't try to fix it yourself.

Especially in cases when you believe someone has harmed themselves or is about to, I don't believe you should intervene. Sometimes talking helps, and sometimes it doesn't. In the case of my friend, there was nothing more I could do on my own. Call someone who can get them help, and let them do so.

3. Release.

This seems simple, and maybe even lazy. But it is vital to your health, and to the health of those you care about. Understand that "release" does not mean "ignore". It means doing what you are able to do, and then opening your hands. I think, in some cases, releasing also means "not demanding to be more involved". Obviously, the situation is different if the person in trouble is a child or a significant other. In my case, this was my friend. If my friend wants to find me and talk. they can do so. I'm going to give them space to breathe and heal. I may never know all the details of what happened and why, but that's ok. I did everything I could. My friend may be angry with me, even. That's ok, too.

I hate to think that anyone would despair so deeply they would feel the need to give up, but we know that people do. I hope that someone reads this and remembers that, whether it's their own sadness and pain or a friend's, that there are always options, and there is always help.

Be well.

Before and after.

2011-08-17T15:37:00.000-07:00

The last couple of weeks have been odd. That's all.
First there was Tuesday:

And then there was Wednesday morning, early.

And then I said, Stop being self-absorbed, taking pictures of yourself. If you haven't guessed, I have very little photo-editing experience, and a phone with a less-than-impressive camera. So I took one final one, and went to bed.

Let's check in next week.

The same boat.

2011-07-29T13:52:00.000-07:00

So, I've been hanging out at Karma Cafe this week (as evidenced here) working on job-hunting, resume-updating and the like.

I also bought a domain name for my own website, which has no content yet. If you want to see the digital nakedness, it's here. Want to help me with the website? Get in touch with me. I'll welcome the input.

In my attempts to finish the resume today, I hit a formatting hiccup that had me frustrated. I emailed several friends, and one of them was able to help, thank goodness.

Another of my friends wasn't able to solve the issue, but she provided me with the following email exchange, which I found encouraging and enjoyable. Names and some details have been changed or omitted--sometimes anonymity helps.

I feel like I am in the same spot with what you said about goals and passions for my life. So you are truly not alone if that helps at all.

Someone told me the other day they thought that my life went off course when I went to Seminary.

Now I answer phones.

So trust me, you are not alone and this may be terrible of me but it makes me feel a bit better that although most people cannot really empathize with what I'm feeling; you can.

I think that you need to either write humorist essays (which I have recently decided is my dream career) or host your own radio show. Perhaps both. I would be a sponsor.

I replied:

Write me a check, sister. I'll go on the air tomorrow.

This will be my opening song (on the radio at this very moment, and I feel like the very sound of it--not even the words--is my life right now. A little hopeful, a little urgent, a little desperate, a little driven, a little aimless.

I included a link to my favorite song of the moment--it's Young the Giant's "Cough Syrup". Pretty much encapsulates things. Enjoy:

In the meantime, I'm accepting donations for my new radio show/first essay collection.

Just because.

2011-07-29T11:37:00.001-07:00

To everything there is a season...

2011-07-22T14:10:00.000-07:00

I remarked to a friend several months back that I felt like big changes were on the way in my life, but I didn't know what they would look like. And now I have a slightly better idea.

It's time for me to look for some new opportunities to serve. and for chances to bring my skills into a new position. I'm officially placing myself back on the market, so to speak.

Am I excited? Extremely.
I don't know what's next, but I believe it will be good.

Am I scared? Absolutely.
Change is scary, period. But I've been reminded lately of something I wrote when I was at the coast--it was in the previous post:

Why settle for a river when the ocean is right next door?

So this is me, stretching for the ocean. I am ready and open to accept any tips, help, suggestions. I'm happy to share my resume, glad to sit and chat over coffee about what motivates me, or what motivates you.

Expect more updates from this space, but please don't hesitate to reach out to me if you have questions or updates. I'll be here, and I'll be ready.

Beach, Day Two (part two) AND...

2011-07-20T10:30:00.000-07:00

So, a big change came down for me yesterday. There will be another blog coming soon, but I wanted to go ahead and finish up my time at the beach. It might be time for another vacation, though I doubt it. :P So...

Day two, part two:

I am sitting at Kyllo's and the older woman at the table nearest me just said, "You don't think they'd send grungy girls, with a story like that."
There's a younger man with her, and her husband. "Girls with sturdy ankles and bad teeth," the younger man said.
Probably because I looked at them, the woman looked at me.
My ankles are weak, madam, I rhought, The weakest.

The ocean spills into a little inlet right here, a shallow river. The ocean--the full, magestic, huge ocean is 20 feet away. People are still playing in the river, lying by it. Why settle for a river when the ocean is right next door?

****
...I'm back at the hotel now, and thinking that I am jealous of people whose attentions, whose affections seem wonderfully undivided. I don't know how they do it. Maybe, in all actuality they do nothing of the sort, but they can certainly put a good face on things. Me, I sing a hymn with one breath and have decidedly unholy thoughts in the next. Is this normal? I don't know. Let's say yes, I'll feel better. Thank God for His grace.

My pastor told me the night before I came out here, "You're not going to look at the ocean and suddenly understand God more." It's a paraphrase, so don't hold him to it, but it's a good thought and an important one. I said I was putting no expectations on this little jaunt to the sea, but part of me deeply, deeply wants an epiphany; to come back a changed woman who is more: more grounded, more passionate, more awake.

****
Be ye warned: My head is foggy with wine. And yes, I already hate that I wrote that sentence. From up here, the beach looks like pockmarked skin. Rivets and pockets are set.
I finally got the crashing waves I wanted. Not huge and stormy, but enough to truly slam the shore and send up white bursts of Ocean, capital O.
I know the ocean, as a whole, is constant, rhythmic and continuous. The half-mile I can see (or quarter-mile, who knows, really) is wildly unpredictable. The tide comes in, recedes, and comes back again, pummeling the sand sometimes and kissing it others.
There is someone running toward the waves, now running away. He is braver than I would be, especially in the dark. He has left his friend on a piece of driftwood and is now running away, it seems very fast. Hard to tell from this many stories up. Fast enough that if it were me on the piece of driftwood, I would say, "You are so far away. Where are you going?"
But I am on the balcony.

I am coming back here in storm season. How wonderful it would be to sit on this balcony or behind the glass and watch mayhem that is not mayhem at all. Men make mayhem. Nature exerts power. We call it mayhem when it doesn't do what we want.

I am both sad and relieved I only brought one bottle of wine.

Beach, Day Two (part one)

2011-07-18T01:01:00.000-07:00

More than a month after my trip to the coast, here is day two's thoughts and scribblings:

There are a lot of people on this stretch of beach, all hotel guests, I'm assuming. But it's nice, since nobody else is out on the balcony, that there are some people out.

I ordered room service this morning. Room service always sounds so luxurious, and it ended up feeling kind of lonely. I flipped through the tv--left it on some tv judge where two ex-meth addicts were suing each other. Everyone kept clapping because they were clean. I turned it off.

The tide has gone out and there are little waves, slips of water, coming up sideways. It's like they're saying, "We're building a new ocean... shhh. Don't tell anyone."

I think about voices a lot.I hear different voices for things all the time. This book I'm reading, about a bunch of international dignitaries taken hostage in a South American vice-president's home, is like that. Tons of characters, all from different countries, and I can hear all their voices as I read. Testament to the author, I guess.

The little sideways waves have children's voices. The larger, further-out mother waves sound like Kathleen Turner when she's relaxed. A little worn out, all the time.

I started reading "Even In Quiet Places" for maybe the fourth time, and I marked it like a Bible. But I don't read the Bible this way.

The people next door must be staying here a while. They have pulled plants out to the balcony, hung a dreamcatcher on the rail. Dreamcatchers are such bullshit, really.
Wait. Maybe it's not a dreamcatcher. It has a bunch of dangling strings with shells and stuff. Still. Ew.

I was just getting up to leave the balcony when the old man next door stepped out.
"How do you like the view?" he said.
"Oh, it's beautiful," I said, "Really nice."
And he asked if I had ever been before, asked if I liked it.
"You know, we almost bought this one--thought about connecting it to our own--we were friendly with the neighbor and I told him we'd be interested if he ever sold. So he called, said he had to move to Texas where his company's headquarters was, and his wife needed a drier climate, and we thought about it. They had the place handicapped accessible--"

(NOTE: This is why my room was upgraded. Normally things like that--Oh, let's give her a shower with a bunch of contraptions--makes my blood boil, but this room is way nicer so I'm good with it)

"--but we already had that in our place for my sister-in-law, see. She was handicapped too, and then she died about six years ago--" (People do this all the time in conversations with me--they say 'handicapped' when they mean 'ill', and the story always end in death. As if I know anything about what it's like to have cancer.)

The man had settled in, draping his arms over the wall between our balconies. "She had a bunch of wishes, my wife's sister, and one of them was to live on the coast for a while. So I lent her the $100,000 for this place--she paid me back when I sold her house--and when she passed away, all her family was here on this balcony, holding her hands and singing songs."

"It's a lovely spot," I said. What do you say?

We talked some more about family--they live full time in Oregon City and will often come here Thursday through Sunday. I mentioned Linfield and Ireland when he said his wife had traveled the world--I had just been thinking of the Irish coast when I stood to leave. So many rocks. One of my favorite memories of Ireland was sitting on a bench staring at the ocean again. I sat there for an hour after a seaweed bath, and didn't feel lonely or confused (I don't think, but memory does weird things to truth.)

The man and his wife both had family who gone to Linfield, and they encouraged me to come back before the summer was over. They're nice people. They came here with a cat in a pet carrier.

Beach, Day One

2011-06-30T02:42:00.000-07:00

It's been two weeks since I went to the coast to disconnect. That's been enough time to recognize what a beautiful and necessary time it was, and just enough time to plug back in and get stressed again. I have missed the ocean since my second day back.

I did some writing while I was there, which felt really, really good. It's not brilliant, and it's not deep, but I can't sleep, and so here you go:

Day One...

I want more drama from the ocean. How presumptuous is that?

I wanted crashing waves, and I got them, I guess--when I closed the door to take a shower, I thought, It sounds like a washing machine.

I wanted the waves to be CRASHING: big, white puffs like angry clouds. But these waves just kind of sidle up, move along, and lick the shore.

This is what people love about the ocean, isn't it--it's so endless and so constant. I like watching these little waves curl; I love the curvature, the green. I love it so much I'm a little sad every time one crests, because it's over.

I sat in the bar and had an old-fashioned and a pound of clams. When I ordered, the waiter said, "One pound of the steamed clams, or two?"
"One will be fine," I said. "Thanks."
I ate them slowly; I was there a long time. I had a book.

There was a woman sitting at the table nearest me, probably in her 50s, and I thought, She's not beautiful. I wonder if she was when she was younger. I wonder if her husband still thinks of her as beautiful.

And then I hated myself a little, and my brain said, "How selfish can you be?", and I thought, Well, at least that much. But I'm loved anyway.

There was a woman standing on the beach, and I liked seeing her, there by herself, staring at the sea. The sea sounds so much more poetic than the ocean. But the ocean sounds bigger. When she turned and started walking, I felt like all the poetry of the moment left.

Three women came and sat near me in the bar. "Ooh," one of them said. "What you have looks good."
"It is good," I said, and I popped a clam in my mouth to show how much I was enjoying them. A little bit of sand crunched between my teeth.

They decided on the clams, the beef tips, and the artichoke dip. And rustic bread. I know this because the one woman kept repeating the list in different order:

"Look at this view, ladies. And we're going to have artichoke dip, and rustic bread, and beef tips... and clams!"

And later:

"I can't wait for our clams, and beef tips, and artichoke dip, and rustic bread. And look at this amazing view!"

It's almost dark. My words are sliding off the page....

Ta da! Day two coming soon....

I am disconnecting to reconnect.

2011-06-15T00:04:00.000-07:00

Karma Repair Kit: Items 1-4

by Richard Brautigan

1.

Get enough food to eat,
    and eat it.
  
    
        2.
    Find a place to sleep where it is quiet,
    and sleep there.
  
    
        3.
    Reduce intellectual and emotional noise
    until you arrive at the silence of yourself,
    and listen to it.
  
    
        4.

Pretty soon, I am leaving. Not for long. Just a few days.

The plan is to stare at the ocean for long stretches of time. I will have books--they may be opened, or not. I will have a notebook and a pen. The notebook may stay blank.

The phone, while with me, will ideally be off. This stresses me out a little.

I don't disconnect well--I'm constantly plugged in somewhere, constantly engaged in something, so that my alone time either feels not alone at all or totally, utterly, lost-in-space-and-time alone.

So I am going away, and I'm not bringing anyone with me, and I'm going to stare at the ocean and be quiet. I won't say silent--I might sing.

I need to disconnect to move past the disconnected feeling I have been living in. Doing more hasn't helped me feel better or stronger.

I am not putting expectations on this trip, other than the sound of the waves, crashing in rhythm. I may learn nothing. But a part of me hopes I can learn to recognize again that giving yourself grace is not lazy.
Maybe I'll be reminded that I am safe and secure in an insecure world.
Hopefully I'll see again that the people who love me love me intensely, and that those who don't, don't need to.

I am bringing some poems with me on the trip. The one up at the top speaks to the inspiration of the whole trip. Hopefully, I'll have a copy of William Stafford's book Even in Quiet Places--possibly the only book of poetry to actually make me feel like I was discovering something.

And this one:

Keeping Quiet

by Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve

and we will all keep still.

This one time upon the earth,

let's not speak any language,

let's stop for one second,

and not move our arms so much.

It would be a delicious moment,

without hurry, without locomotives,

all of us would be together

in a sudden uneasiness.

The fishermen in the cold sea

would do no harm to the whales

and the peasant gathering salt

would look at his torn hands.

Those who prepare green wars,

wars of gas, wars of fire,

victories without survivors,

would put on clean clothing

and would walk alongside their brothers

in the shade, without doing a thing.

What I want shouldn't be confused

with final inactivity:

life alone is what matters,

I want nothing to do with death.

If we weren't unanimous

about keeping our lives so much in motion,

if we could do nothing for once,

perhaps a great silence would

interrupt this sadness,

this never understanding ourselves

and threatening ourselves with death,

perhaps the earth is teaching us

when everything seems to be dead

and then everything is alive.

Now I will count to twelve

and you keep quiet and I'll go.

(ps. Thanks to Eric G. for reminding me what poetry can do.)

Heather is a bum.

2011-04-13T11:46:00.000-07:00

I didn't go back to the gym Friday.

In fact, I haven't been back in ages.

I did buy an iPod, a swimsuit (for the HydroPower aqua aerobics class I have yet to take) and a yoga mat.

The mat is shrink-wrapped, and I can't get the iPod to sync to my iTunes library (yes, I downloaded the latest version). The swimsuit still has the tags on it.

It's like things are on pause, across the board. Not stopped, not stalled... just paused.

Any ideas on how best to push play?

This blog is not just about the gym...

2011-03-16T22:26:00.000-07:00

I promise. But for now, it kind of is.

So, I went back to the gym today. And when I say that I'm slow, I'm really slow.

Monday, I walked a half a mile on the treadmill, at a pace of 1.5 mi, with a 2.0 incline. Not a lot, but it was enough.

So today, I walked a half a mile, with the same 2.0 incline, but at a pace of 1.6.

So you know what that means, a quarter mile took me nine minutes.

Nine sweaty, painful minutes.

But I did the half mile.

I also tried the fly machine, which seemed really easy and simple, until I hit my tenth rep, at which point my arms started saying OMG WHY WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG IT BURNS OMG.

I did three sets of ten. Better than zero....

And I very seriously need to make the small investment in an iPod Shuffle, or maybe a Nano. Today's Bally's playlist included the following: Van Halen's "Panama", painful enough alone. That was followed by Phil Collins. WHAT is Phil Collins doing in a GYM? And that, friends, was followed by Vertical Horizon.

VERTICAL HORIZON.

I hope you understand how painful that was to my ears.

VERTICAL HORIZON.

I'm going back Friday.

Version Me

2011-03-14T21:43:00.000-07:00

I have not written a blog post in a really long time.

In fact, I haven't done a lot of things in a really long time.

Since I last posted, it's a new year. Worldwide, some beautiful and some horrible things have happened, and my prayer is that the horrible will come back around and birth some beauty soon.

In my own little speck of the world, I turned 30. In fact, I turned 30 while I was sick in bed, not yet realizing that I had pneumonia.

The pneumonia is gone now, but it certainly took its time.

One of the other things that I haven't done in a really long time is go to the gym. Day after day, I left work, looked at the big neon Bally's sign literally directly across the street (it could only be closer if it were in my building), sighed a little bit, and drove home.

Being sick makes you depressed, and getting sick when you're already. let's be honest, pretty depressed, makes you REALLY depressed, and when you're depressed you don't want to work out--maybe you want to go home and watch mindless TV. Like "Wipeout." Not that I ever did that. But, you know.

SO.

Without making this post too full of self-pity or just plain boring, I decided to go back to the gym today. No more maybe. Today.

Nevermind that it's Monday.
Nevermind it's a night I'm working late.
Nevermind I don't feel like going to the gym.

So, I went to the gym. Having cerebral palsy at the gym tends to make everything a little more intense, a little more daunting. The machines are scary, and could potentially throw you to the ground. Everyone around you is very fast, and very thin.

I got on the treadmill and got a look from the guy next to me, who was casually strolling. Not a mean or hurtful look, but that look that everyone gives me initially--the flash of sizing up and 'what's-going-on-here'-ness.

God, I thought, He's gonna be watching me.
And then I realized: I didn't care.

I listened to our side-by-side footfalls on the treadmill belts. There were two of his for every one of mine.

God, I thought, I'm so slow.
And then I realized: I didn't care.

I started sweating (like, really sweating) at about five minutes in.
God, I thought, I look a mess. And I'm going so slow. And this guy's watching me (he wasn't, for the record).
And I realized I didn't care.

I walked a half a mile on the treadmill. That might not seem like much, but I don't walk a half a mile anywhere, ever. Every goal I set for myself, I reset a little further out. When I return to the gym, half a mile will be the expectation, not the stretch goal.

I was thinking on the way home about going back to the gym, and about how likely my body was to hurt in the morning (I also did some tricep and chest presses, some tiny free-weight things, and some odd things with an eight pound medicine ball, AND I stayed on that Precor swoopy machine (swoopy) for three entire minutes.

And at first I thought, Heather, you're new! And then I thought, no... this isn't Heather 2.0, or Heather 30.0 or anything else. This is Heather as she is right now. And that's pretty awesome. Not looking in the rearview mirror brightens the horizon exponentially.

Also, the musical selection in Bally's is terrible, and someone needs to give me an iPod, stat.

12-21-2010

2010-12-21T00:05:00.000-08:00

New things are on their way.

Watch this space.

(Don't literally watch the space--that's liable to get boring. But you know what I mean.)

Because success is not the point: Day One.

2010-11-01T23:13:00.000-07:00

So, I've written a little for National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. When I attempted it last year, I didn't have a job and I made it 22 pages. Given that the goal is 50,000 words... that means I gave up pretty quickly.

But some things are ok to give up on. And so, I wrote a little tonight for NaNoWriMo. I won't write 50,000 words, don't plan to. I'm just going to see what happens. So far a vivid dream is informing the first couple paragraphs. That's all there is.

I opened my NaNo from 2009 and am looking at it for the first time in forever. This line made me happy:

"The table was small and cheap and Swedish, and had lived in four apartments before this one."

I am easily pleased.

Heather & cars: The Saga Continues.

2010-10-30T19:03:00.000-07:00

So, my car is totaled. I don't have details or a number yet, since the number left to me by my insurance sent me to their 'Total Loss Division" (a depressing name if ever there was one), which is only open Monday-Friday.

So, I need a car. One that is safe and reliable, and easy to get in and out of. I also am collecting car shopping advice, and the numbers of reputable salesmen. Feel free to put me in touch with someone you know and trust.

And just for fun, this is what my car looked like after Monday's (low speed, stop and go) accident:

Blog round-up, week two

2010-10-27T23:57:00.000-07:00

It's time, once again, for the blog round-up! The theme this week is...

God, etc.

I have met all the following bloggers in seminary, during seminary, and/or in close proximity to seminary. In no particular order...

Danielle Shroyer

Danielle's "About" page says it well, so I'll just let you read it here:

Danielle is the pastor of Journey Church in Dallas. She is the author of The Boundary-Breaking God: An Unfolding Story of Hope and Promise (Jossey-Bass, 2009) and speaks often on issues of theology, church leadership and emerging communities of faith. Danielle lives with her husband and two children in Dallas, Texas.

I discovered Danielle when she was talking about women's seminary experiences on Twitter, and I've enjoyed her blog ever since (Heads up--her *spoiler-free* post on Mad Men is particularly good.)

Heidi Bay

Heidi came to Multnomah during my second year of seminary. In addition to being a delightfully joyful human being, she has a passion for missions and travel, and she's crafted a blog that's both theologically and stylistically solid (see Sept 12th's post for a uniquely good example).

Perpetual Anticipation

I met David in a fleeting moment in the seminary lounge, sometime in...2008? I think. I had just agreed to complete an internship with Compassion Connect, and David was introduced to me because of the work he was starting with their Apartment Complex Initiative.

David's blog is a little bit of everything: theology, technology, cars, music, movies, life, and the occasional bit of randomness just for fun. Lately he's been going over Mumford and Son's "Sigh No More" song by song, and while I don't entirely agree with his take on it, I'm glad he's covering them. I only wish I had done it first. :)

Melodious Sonnet

Miki lives in my house. Connecting to her blog was like discovering a whole different side of a housemate. Miki is fun, and sarcastic, and a little wacky at times, and devoted to Guitar Hero and her hockey team of choice. Her blog posts are beautiful, poetic, and powerful. It's the pensive side of the passionate hockey fan, and I like it.

Ask her to tell you about moon cakes sometime.

They Call Me Pastor Bryan (or, my favorite blog title)

I knew who BD was before I met him. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion that our first conversation may have included me saying, "I know who you are." How's that for creepy?

BD and I were also at seminary together, although he got there before I did. Right now he's a leader @ Sacred Roots, a new community in SE Portland. His blog is full of good stuff. Also, John Calvin was a hipster. Check it out.

"Do you feel scared? I do."

2010-10-25T22:31:00.000-07:00

I didn't go to work today.

I started to, and then in the stop-and-go rain-filled traffic, there was an accident.

The front of my 2007 Toyota Camry is seriously crumpled. I am slightly crumpled, but only internally.

I have a 2010 Dodge Avenger while we figure out whether the Camry is alive or not.

I hope it is. Dented as it is, messy as it is, I really like that car. We understand each other.

I accidentally pop the hood of the Avenger each time I step out of it.

Also, "auto accidents" are going on my list of things that make me feel handicapped (an in-process list that includes "traveling in groups" and "historic sites", among others.).

Money and cars are two of the things that stress me out the most.

But, all will be well, and when I posted that "things can only get better", someone sent me this. At least it gave me a chuckle.

Blog round-up, week one

2010-10-20T22:25:00.000-07:00

First of all, thanks to everyone who volunteered themselves up for the blog roundup. I'm going to try to group them loosely (translation: don't get too worked up over an outlier or two). For now, blog roundups will happen Wednesday nights. Late-ish.

I'm doing this for two reasons: One, most of these blogs come from friends of mine, and they're cool people and I want to brag on them a little. Indulge me.

Two, I really haven't felt like writing lately. and I don't like that. But I do know that other people's writing usually sparks and inspires mine, and so while I hope you enjoy the blogs here, I also hope it will kickstart me, so to speak.

The theme this week is...

Travel

Travel at home, travel abroad. And so without further ado & in no particular order:

Tales of an Adventure Junkie

My friend Jules is many things. She's beautiful, she's smart, she's shockingly funny, she's a globetrotter and a storyteller. Sometimes her tales make me jealous. Other times, like when she details a bout of airplane sickness, they make me glad to be home. But they always make me laugh. Also, on any given day, I have no idea where on the planet she might be.

Find the Found

Jenni and Chrissi are sisters. I met them both at a recent weekend-long coastal bachelorette party. They're incredible women, and stunning storytellers. And they have this brilliant blog, which not only gives tips on travel and life in general, but has also been telling the beautiful story of a new family, as Chrissi and her husband are currently in the Philippines with their new daughter, Mary. Read it.

The Portland Untourist

If you've been following Stumbling into Grace for any time at all (and if you have, thank you for sticking with me through the dry spells), you've heard me talk about my friend Robin. I don't need to tell you she's fun, crazy talented, and beautiful because you know this already. But! Robin has a new project. The Portland Untourist is designed to help people rediscover where they live. Since Robin lives in Portland, the blog is currently Portland-centric, but fascinating no matter where you are (and I have brought her to many of the places she's highlighted, so you're welcome.)

The Antiscian

Robin's friend (and now mine as well) Jessica is currently living and working in Shanghai. This blog is honestly a must for anyone interested in travel, Chinese culture, good writing or life. Really, that should catch all of us. Oh, and Jessica just happened to snag a gig editing Hops Magazine. No big deal.

Talented folks, these. Stay tuned for more next Wednesday, and hopefully some posts about other material in between. Happy reading!

You can understand dependence when you know the Maker's hand.

2010-10-18T23:49:00.000-07:00

I hung out with some friends tonight over wine, a killer vegetable soup and some rambling, mostly aimless conversation.

It was really good.

Driving home, Mumford & Sons playing for the millionth time in the cd player, I started thinking about God, and about how thankful I am that He is not dependent on me. His attitude toward me doesn't change when my attitude toward Him does. The fact that my faith is weak and frail doesn't diminish His strength. The fact that sometimes, lots of times, I don't believe in Him doesn't keep Him from believing in me and seeing me as a completed creation, rather than the partway-there, unfinished heap of stuff I tend to feel like.

He loves me, even when I don't love Him or others well, or at all.

He listens to what I don't say, can't say, won't.

And when I focus, and focus, and focus on myself and my imperfections and the imperfections of the world that make my life harder, he hangs around, and lets me fume, lets me cry, lets me throw my tantrums.

This isn't weakness, or laziness, or lack of concern.

It's grace.

For me, God has always been present and active. And so sometimes, I think I look for Him in the thunder, or the tragedy, or the big, loud, noisy moments. And He's always there, but it's not always where He chooses to show up.

I am thankful that God can stay strong and loving and powerful and active, and he can do all those things in the dark corners of my life. He can stay there until He wants to move, and He can work silently where He chooses, as slowly or as quickly as He likes.

I have no patience. He knows this. I want evidence of change, movement. He knows this too.

I am thankful that God is present when I can't be. However quiet, however slow.

I want to hear your thoughts.

2010-09-30T12:34:00.000-07:00

You've probably already seen this, for one.
I'm not asking about the abortion part, for two.

I'm mostly interested in the content here because of the way certain conservative religious groups have approached the President. I'm leaving my own commentary out for now. Thoughts?

(I found the video courtesy of my friend David's blog, Perpetual Anticipation.)

Texting is an art form.

2010-09-08T00:19:00.000-07:00

Quite literally. Well, no, not quite literally, but you get me.

Please observe the following exchange between yours truly and this guy:

I just made a somewhat frivolous purchase you may like to try the next time you come over.

? Exciting! What?
Please say trampoline.
Oh my god, it's totally a trampoline.

Yes, it's a trampoline. Also a giant electric piano keyboard that you play by jumping on the keys.

And a Pepsi machine you can throw a baseball at.
And a blow-up dinosaur.

Also, I have inexplicably purchased an absurdly formal white tuxedo.

It just so happens that I have the perfect taffeta dress for trampolining. I'm crimping my hair and coming over.

Wait, hang on. I have just consulted this mysterious and creepy carnival fortune-telling machine which tells me that I do not actually have a trampoline. Sad.

Ok, now I'm DYING to know. Also, that thing terrified me when I was little.

I can't possibly tell you now. It wasn't nearly exciting enough for all that buildup. It's a kitchen appliance; it involves liquids, that's all I'll say.

Lololol. Martini shaker?

I already have a martini shaker. Alright, fine. It's this cute Japanese thing that sits on your counter and makes hot water. Like for tea. Or for trampolines.

I actually had the thought, What if it's something decidedly not awesome, like an omlette maker? But then again, for a split second I thought maybe you really did buy a floor piano.

I always wanted that floor piano but I would use it once and then never again.

I want martinis.

Okay. Hot water martinis for everybody.

This entire text conversation may have to be blogged. I love it.

Aren't all of our text conversations like this? You can't possibly blog them all. Unless you did.

I'm glad you think we're always this clever. We're not quite. Tonight you & i are in particularly good form.

Yay us, then. But see, the thing is, this thing is always on so you can ALWAYS have hot water like as for tea. Or oatmeal or ramen. Like, IMMEDIATELY.
Surely that is as cool as at least a small trampoline. Like a pocket trampoline.
Also, I don't remember this pepsi machine that you can throw a baseball at. Can't you throw a baseball at pretty much anything?

But it gave you PEPSI. For FREE.

That sounds awesome, except for the free Pepsi. Does anyone drink Pepsi anymore? I think everyone drinks tea instead.

I think Coke bought all the tea.

That would be a smart marketing move, since I understand cool and attractive people are buying hot water heater things so they can drink more tea. You should come over later in the week. Bring your pocket trampoline.
______________________________________________________________________

Well, I think it's fun. :)

That's all for today. You should text me about The Breakfast Club.

Seriously, is it just me or...

2010-08-30T22:31:00.000-07:00

A couple things:

One: Hello! I've missed you too.

Two: Though the following takes a light tone, I really do want to know your thoughts. Am I expecting special treatment? Somewhat, yes. But am I asking too much? Comment, share, discuss, please.

Background: Today is my friend Christina's birthday. Christina is one of the most gracious, loving, and fun people I have ever met. You may remember last year, we celebrated her birthday thusly. This year, we repeated it.

Star Trek in the Park at the Bagdad (or whatever its formal name is) was much more popular this year. Parking on SE Hawthorne Blvd was harder to find. (And yes, til midnight, we had fun). I explained the events post-midnight in the following email to a friend:

"So, Christina recommended that I bring my handicapped placard last night for easier parking. Hooray!

Then we found an open handicapped spot in the Bank of America parking lot. After hours. Sunday. Hooray!

Then Christina's car got towed.

Then Christina was nice to the tow company lady.

Then I got on the phone with the tow company lady, and she told me "The fact that you're handicapped doesn't give you the right to trespass on personal property."

Then I was not so nice to the tow company lady.

Then I asked the tow company lady for the number of a cab company. Because, as I told the tow company lady, "It's not like I can walk home. I might trespass."

Then I got us a cab to my house, went to Christina's house, waited for her to get her title at home, drove out to a creepy tow lot all the way in the Pearl, and waited and felt guilty while she paid $240 (that's two hundred and forty dollars) to get her car out of the impound lot.

I fell asleep at 2 am. My alarm went off at 6:30. I got out of bed at 7:30. I am tired."

Is the tow company lady right? Am I expecting too much special treatment?

Yes, it was a bank parking lot.

Yes, there was a sign stating that the lot was patrolled by Retriever Towing.

Yes. we parked in a handicapped spot, with a legal handicapped placard.

Yes, I have parked in handicapped spots, brandishing my handicapped placard, in front of similar signs and have never been towed.

The bank was closed. We did not loiter. We parked at approximately 5:40 pm, Sunday.

Is that worth $240? Should the fact that it is a handicapped space give me some grace, or were we wrong for parking in a business lot?

Please, very seriously, have at it in the comments.

I have/haven't forgotten.

2010-07-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

Hey, look at that--I have a blog.

It will eventually be live again, hopefully soon.

Ps. 5-hour energy makes me hot. Apparently this is normal, and is called "niacin flush". How creepy is that?

STOP.

2010-07-06T23:41:00.000-07:00

Stop. Sometimes I just have to tell myself to stop it.

Heather, stop it.

Life is good right now. It's getting a little better with each step. So, Heather, let's stop looking backwards, however lovely the view; let's stop picking scabs. It's not moving on. It's moving, and not spinning.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Don't beat yourself to death over it, but stop all the same.

I'm going to bed--I just wanted to commit that somewhere. Sometimes it helps to talk to myself in the third person--or I pretend it does.

A proper blog is coming soon--probably something about music.

Life is good, and getting better. It's always grace.

Working is weird.

2010-06-24T22:57:00.000-07:00

So, I'm not sure if you all heard, but I have this job now...

I know. Awesome. Don't be jealous, though, because I spent over a year being jealous of people with jobs, and it did nothing but give me heartburn.

(And for the many of you who have asked, I'm not talking super openly about the job online not because it's a secret, but because I haven't seen many other people talking about the company online, and I don't want to breach protocol this early in the game.)

I can tell you this much: I am now working in downtown Portland for a large company (one that doesn't feel as large as it is) that's corporate, even though most people assume it's non-profit.

I really like it.

I think I'll do really well (I keep hearing Annie in my head, singing "I think I'm gonna like it here...")

Everyone's been really, really friendly and fun.

All that being said, it's some serious culture shock, for a couple of reasons.

The first reason is kind of easy and silly, but it's culture shock nonetheless. Robin and I planned to meet up for happy hour at the end of my first day, and since we were still there later, Eric came and met us (side note: My friend texted to ask how the day went, and when I replied "I am at happy hour with Eric and Robin" my heart got super-happy, because it's so rare that I get to say something like that, and those two are my absolute favorites. Aww.)

So, talking with Robin and Eric. both of whom have been employed downtown for years now, I realized that making these culture-shock statements made me sound ridiculous, like a four year old. Or an alien.

Happy hour stretched late, as it tends to do, and when Robin said, "Wow, it's 9 already," I responded, "Oh, my gosh, I have to go home and go to bed! Like, soon! And then.... I have to wake up and do it all over again!"

This, as I have since been reminded, is called having a job. But when I've been in school and unemployed and even working wacky part-time jobs, the standard 8-5 job has been hard to come by. Falling into that routine feels very awkward. And me and mornings fight, but the struggle hasn't been as hard as I thought it would be--presumably because there is the promise of a paycheck attached to this one.

Second culture-shock, being a confirmed Eastside Portland resident: Downtown is like a whole different city. It's still Portland, to be sure, and is definitely more laid back than other cities, but wow. Lots of pumps and suits and ties and things running around, and you practically never see that on this side. Luckily for me, my office is 'business casual' (also a new concept for me--finding cardigans turned into a huge quest), and tends to lean ever so slightly more in the casual direction. But the days in pajama pants? Those are called "Saturdays" now. Maybe.

So the downtown-ness is new, and the corporate angle is going to take some getting used to. But the office as a whole has such a positive, energized vibe to it, and the people are warm, and passionate about the work.

So, after months of feeling like I was floating endlessly, no horizon in sight, it's looking like God led me to exactly the shore I needed. Losing the sea legs will take a while, but the sand feels lovely under my feet.

Help find Kyron!

2010-06-16T18:00:00.000-07:00

I have good news!

2010-06-12T02:16:00.000-07:00

i am employed.

For the first time in the past 13 months, I am employed.

And the job is a good one. The interview process started back in April (!), and they extended an offer to me today.

I'm not used to the idea of being employed. I keep forgetting for a moment, and then remembering, "Hey, you know that pit in your stomach over not having a job? You don't need that anymore."

And that pit is well-seated. When I was on the phone with the woman who offered me the job today, before she made the offer, I actually pictured myself getting out of the car and throwing up if I heard a no.

I am out of antacids.

I almost feel like I don't know how to take good news, how not to worry incessantly. The offer is pending the results of the background check, and even though there's nothing in my history, I'm still paranoid. What if they don't like your credit score?, the little voice of negativity in my head says.

But, in less than two weeks, I will be working at a good job. I will have much less time on my hands, and will remain grateful for all those friends and family who supported me over the last 13 months, during many of which I know I was less than a joy to be around.

I don't know what will happen with this blog. Largely because of the interview process, a short "blog vacation" turned long, and I know I won't post as regularly as I have. I can promise one thing: this blog will not become a space for me to complain about my job. I think I'll love it, in fact, but there will always be little things that you wish were different. I won't air dirty laundry or bemoan my employed fate here.

For now, I have to try to develop a normal sleep schedule, and I have to start remembering that words like "weekend" and "weekday" have actual meanings.

Because, hey, I've got a job.

A links roundup

2010-06-07T13:15:00.000-07:00

I haven't forgotten about this blog, but I did need somewhat of a break. I have posts in mind, though, and may even post a second one before today is out.

This week, though, apart from the bizarre stress I've experienced (more on that in a minute) I've found a bunch of fascinating stuff via our buddy and enemy the internet. And since I'm now baffled as to how my Twitter page updates my Facebook without ever changing my status, I figured I would root the links and stuff here. David Bowie's playing...here you go (mostly in reverse order of discovery):

I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO READ ALL OF THESE. But I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you do read.

Wal-Mart is coming to Cornelius, people are excited. Seriously, read it before you protest (and I don't like Wal-Mart either.) (KATU News).

Dehumanizing comes easy. The death of porn stars becomes too many punchlines. I love Salon--their articles are consistently--and simply--excellent (Salon.com) .

"I'm spiritual but not religious." Interesting discussion on what that statement means... it would be a great group discussion over wine and cheese, I think (hint, hint). and as I said on Facebook, I don't consider myself religious, either. But is it an issue of semantics? (CNN)

The World Food Programme makes helping ease hunger simple. The website is also fascinating

,.. and I discovered that Free Rice, benefiting the WFP, will let you practice your vocabulary in English, Spanish, French, German and Italian, or your knowledge of math, art, or the periodic table, all while donating food. Incredible.

Amazingly, the same newspaper has been used in movies and television for years. Literally--it's one paper. (@culturepulp, a.k.a. Mike Russell)

This is the best news report I have ever seen. You will laugh. I promise. (YouTube)

And, in what I hope will become a tradition of sorts, my favorite text messages from the past week. No names, no context, to protect the innocent:

Are you? Chasing a carrot on a stick? If so, stop. They have carrots available at the store--no chasing required.

Well, don't get too excited. You might pee yourself, and that would be gross.

People are great.

What I learned from May's Blogathon

2010-06-01T23:14:00.000-07:00

Hi, friends.

As you all probably know at this point, I took part in (and narrowly missed successfully completing) the 2010 WordCount Blogathon.

Here's what I've learned:

1. Blogging is serious business.

I started a blog because I like words, I think I'm funny, and I thought it would be good to make myself write. When I joined the Blogathon, I thought I would find lots of people like me--people who make fun little observations about life and release them to the universe. And I did find some people like that.

But I heard a lot about branding, a lot about traffic and analytics, and a lot about acronyms that meant nothing to me (like SEO, for example). And I realized, these people are taking this SERIOUSLY.

I also got a lot of blogging advice. If I do decide to get myself a domain name and commit to this blogging thing, I don't know that it will be here. I love this blog, and I love doing it, and I love that you (yes, you, specifically) are reading it, but I don't know that I would ever call it a serious venture. I feel like this is like my think- and play-space, and I am incredibly honored that anyone would come along for the ride.

2. Someone has already written about this, and done a better job.

I am a good writer. I'll even stick my nose out and say I have talent at it. But there are a lot of good writers in the world, and there were a lot of good writers taking part in the Blogathon. But here's one part of the encouragement of this realization. The fact that what I'm doing may not be 100% original or completely the greatest thing ever committed to language/thought/webspace doesn't mean I shouldn't do it. The fact is, I do have a unique voice, and people enjoy hearing it. Now, many of those people may be friends and family (who, really, unless they're jerks--and they're not--kinda have to like me), but many others were strangers to me on May 1, and are strangers still. And people are reading, and saying hello, and I get to get stuff--the silly stuff, the scary stuff, the serious stuff--out of my head. Everybody wins.

3. People are really nice.

This one maybe isn't rocket science, but it's nice to be reminded. I have been so impressed by the amount of advice, support and encouragement I have received over the past month. Whether it's support in regards to jobs, like I posted yesterday, or encouragement when my life deflates, or even just direction on what to use for blogging and how to use it, people have been really helpful and kind. And so thank you, gang.

And just for fun, here is my favorite text message I received today (the sender shall remain anonymous):

I am drawing a shark in a business suit. Please kill me.

Sangria + Frozen yogurt + the future...

2010-05-31T22:46:00.000-07:00

My friend Liz is moving to Chicago in less than a month, and I discovered today that she had never been to Pambiche. Portlanders, if you haven't been here, go. It's a fantastic Cuban restaurant, and literally everything is delicious.

After finishing up at Pambiche, we headed over to Swirl on Hawthorne. We talked, in both places, about a number of things, but I started to tell her that last night I woke up panicked about the prospect that I may not get this super job I so desperately want.

And so we started discussing options. Maybe, as my parents have said, I should go back to school again, and become an LPC (licensed professional counselor). It was something I had in mind for the future, years down the line (after seeing the requirements, I understand why most counselors are older!). But I have seen many, many jobs requiring this or an LMHC (mental health counselor), so maybe it's time.

Maybe, Liz suggested, this is meant to push you to commit to your writing, and do it full time. I have to be honest, the prospect of this filled me... with fear. I love writing, don't get me wrong. And I've mentioned here that when it works, it can make me feel more awake and more alive than almost anything else. But the idea of committing to it and making writing my official career choice, with nothing else behind it, is frightening.

For one, I don't know what kind of writer I would be. Would I freelance, scraping up what I could, at least to start? I have one freelance project now, and that hasn't even finished.

For two, I don't know that I'm actually good. I think that I am, and believe that I am, and I know that people who love me and care about me have said that I am very good. But millions of people in this world are fully supported into doing something they, in fact, cannot do well. Who's to say I'm not one of those millions? I know I'm biased; chances are you are too.

For three, melancholy stretches aside, I'm extroverted and highly distractable. I still don't understand how I began to write in the first place. Even with collaborative projects, writing is a deeply lonely practice. It's shared once it goes , but the actual work of writing requires you, and something to write with. That's it. I don't know if I have that in me.

Maybe you need to go somewhere else, Liz said. And this is when the conversation really got depressing. I love Portland. I love living here, and I feel more at home here than I ever have anywhere else. I feel more at home here than I did when I lived in Ireland, and at the time, I claimed that I would live there forever if I could. I would still go back... I just don't know about forever.

Aside from the job market, Portland has treated me extremely well. I have an excellent community of friends here. The city is accessible and welcoming, in its cynical Portland way. I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be. I'm practically an evangelist for Portland. Maybe that's the problem.

Still, maybe this super job will call me, tell me they loved me, and when can I start? But if they don't, I am certainly at a crossroads. Here's hoping the second half of 2010 will provide more answers than the first.

One little thing.

2010-05-30T23:39:00.000-07:00

Dude, you guys, check out what happened to Horatio Sanz, formerly of SNL.
Wow.

Wow.

This is a pre-emptive post.

2010-05-29T16:37:00.000-07:00

Robin texted me this afternoon letting me know that Gabe (her husband) was having a 'guy's night out', and was I busy? "I'm thinking this would be a perfect opportunity for Twilight, wine and cheese."

I adore this girl.

I've been telling her for the past year that she needs to see "Twilight", and being an intelligent, grown woman (sorry, serious fans) she's resisted.

"You don't get it." I told her. "We're not watching it because it's good. We're watching it because it's ridiculous. It's a two-bottles-of-wine movie. You drink one together before the movie starts, then sip on the second while you watch, and the movie becomes GLORIOUS in its ridiculousness."

So she's apparently finally given in. We're each supplying a bottle of wine, and then we will eat cheese and good things, and laugh our faces off.

If you want to see my earlier thoughts on the movie, click here.

I mean, he compares her to heroin, you guys. That's not a love affair. That's a recipe for homelessness and death.

Sometime, when you don't have better things to do and have your imbibement of choice handy, watch "Twilight". Skip "New Moon", though. It's boring.

Sights around Portland.

2010-05-28T23:42:00.000-07:00

I tried editing the pics for text, we'll see if it worked. :)

Yesterday, I failed.

2010-05-27T22:38:00.000-07:00

Technically.

I didn't post, for the first time (technically) in 2010 Blogathon history. And you know what? I'm a tiny bit bummed, but I'm mostly ok with it. Because yesterday was nuts, but in a good way.

I had a second-round job interview with a local(ish) company that shall for now go unnamed. This company is amazing--employees have a great energy, the work they're doing is important, and the office has nice views. Different levels of importance, to be sure, but all reasons why I want to work for this company.

I sat down with several people in the course of the interview, and each time, made no small thing of saying, "I want this job, specifically, passionately, this job, I want it."

We'll see if that worked. I felt good about the interview.

I've applied for a LOT of jobs over the past year. I've tried to apply mostly at organizations and companies where I have connected in some way with the work they're doing, but there have also been a fair amount of "Yes, I can run your front desk" kind of applications.

Want to know what the funny thing is? Every single time I have gotten called in for an interview, it has been for a position with an organization I'm passionate about, and usually, in some sense, I'm already invested in the type of work they do or the community they work with. Every time. So much for worrying about taking the wrong job, huh?

So, yes, I need a job. But I really, really want this one. Watch this space for updates.

"Um... dude?"

2010-05-25T23:05:00.000-07:00

Everyone is talking LOST.

If you're not a fan, don't leave yet. Please. :)

The thing is, LOST (I love typing LOST in all caps and so that's where it will stay) is one of the only shows on television (or was) that actually makes me feel dumb.

I love that. It's why I have such smart friends (partly, anyway). It's also part of why LOST is best watched in community.

Granted, fans, it's a great show no matter what, whether you appreciate it and take it apart, or like me, you overemphasize the ridiculous and just take the ride. But even when I watched Lost alone (thank you, Netflix streaming), I was still barraging friends, Eric and Ashley in particular, with questions, quips and I will now resist the urge to make this sentence alliterative... thoughts. Whew.

Because LOST is better in community, even if that community is behind a screen.

For fans
Maureen Ryan of the Chicago Tribune and B.J. Keeton (who is taking part in the blogathon) have broken in down in ways that hurt my head.

For fans and non-fans alike

This is hilarious. And if you haven't watched LOST, it's so much so fast it won't ruin anything.

I was a LOST late-bloomer. And I still love Sayid.

(Note: The picture was abc,com's April Fool's joke. Get it? You're welcome, Ashley Sue.)

It's Blogathon Haiku Day!

2010-05-24T19:21:00.000-07:00

A cancelled meeting
Means red wine and a noir film,
Pajamas at home.

Happy Monday night. :)

I'm a killer.

2010-05-24T00:50:00.000-07:00

I hit a possum coming home from watching the "Lost" finale.

I've never hit anything in my life. Except a curb.

My eyes were on the road. I was annoyed by the radio but not focused on it. And then this little whiteish rodent-looking thing was RIGHT in front of my car. And then it wasn't.

The feeling was worse than the sound. I could feel something--it--bounce along under the carriage of my car.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I'm sorry. Oh my God," I said.

On the radio, Katy Perry continued to sing about Daisy Dukes.

I only made one left turn the whole drive home, and when I did, I heard it again, ca-chunk, under the car.

The rest of the drive home was unnecessary turns, made sharply but not recklessly, trying to make sure that whatever was under my car was gone.

Heartless. I know.

When I got home, I hesitated opening the door. I kept picturing a tiny pink hand reaching up from under the car, slashing at my ankles. Even in tall leather boots, it's a terrifying thought.

But I had milk in the trunk! Milk goes bad! It must be saved!

Gingerly, I popped the trunk open and set one foot outside. I listened for harried breathing. And, as I always do, I sent a text message--I just hit a possum. :(-- to my mom and two friends I knew would be awake. Mom, I think, is asleep.

Friend one was sympathetic. Oh, no!
Friend two, less so. Oh? Ow.

Friend two knew about the milk. You should have seen me reach for the milk, I texted. I stood away from the car & leaned in. in case the dying animal reached for me with his tiny mangled paws. :(

Friend one got, I've never hit anything in my life.
He replied, I'm so sorry. That's awful.

Friend two, whose particular brand of snark you may have seen on this blog previously, said, You were so angry about the Lost finale you went on a possum-killing rampage! which was swiftly followed by You know, sometimes they do take down your license plate and plot their revenge. I heard that I Know What You Did Last Summer was actually based on a true story involving a raccoon.

i hate you, I texted.

Both friends, in an effort to lighten the mood/offset my guilt onto someone else, received, I'm certain it was a possum. At first my brain said, could that have been a cat? Or a human baby? Because I am nothing if not rational.

So, possum, I am sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I hope you had a lovely possum life, and that you are not so angry with me that you haunt my dreams or retreat into darkness, working overtime to become SuperPossum and exact sweet revenge on me with a tractor.

I love animals (really!), and I love you.

Happy anniversary!

2010-05-22T22:14:00.000-07:00

Today is my parents' 35th wedding anniversary.

That's not a sentence that very many people have an opportunity to type.

I was thinking about my parents today, and realized that I don't have the ability to conceptualize loving the same person for 35 years. If I'm being honest, I'll tell you that it's something I hope is in my future, but as for now, the phrase "married for 35 years" is as incomprehensible as if it were in another language.

I know that it has (probably) never been easy. I know that it hasn't always even looked like they would make it to this point, but they did. And I know that watching my parents' relationship has informed what I am looking for in a relationship as well.

It's too easy to say that I look to my parents' relationship "warts and all", because I know I have never seen the highest highs or lowest lows. I've lived through the extreme sides of the middle. And I know I'm biased, but I do think my parents have either had more extreme high and lows, or at least more of them than your typical couple.

My parents are far from perfect. But they love each other like crazy, and I've been able to see that love wears all kinds of different faces, and rarely looks as lovely as we would like.

Someday, hopefully, I'll be celebrating an anniversary, and I'll carry those lessons into the relationship with me. But if I don't, watching my parents has taught me about living with other people, whether the relationship lives safely on middle ground or trusts enough to reach dangerously on the edge.

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. I know it's a weird little tribute, but it is a tribute, in its way.

Next time you tell me you're bored...

2010-05-21T23:14:00.000-07:00

...I may take a swing at you. It probably won't be a real one, and it will almost certainly be both ineffective and in jest, but be ready.

It is 2010. We may not have flying cars yet, but even if we did, someone would be sleeping through the trip. A couple notes before we launch into tonight's posts:

1) My instructions are aimed at adults. Teenagers will always be bored. That's practically your job description from 12-18: be bored or overreact. One or both, at all times.

2) Sometimes a little boredom can be nice (emphasis on little). When life is crazy, it can serve as a bizarre respite. What I'm talking about here is the people who complain/announce their boredom. Ok? Here's your instruction.

STOP IT.

If you can't stop it, shut up about it.

Really, boredom comes from selfishness. We've done everything we want to do, or the thing we most want to do is unavailable to us, so we announce that we're bored. God forbid we go engage another human being. God forbid we accomplish something that isn't 110% enjoyable.

Am I preaching to myself as much as you? Absolutely.

I'm not sure if it's a local thing, a hipster thing, a modern thing, a 20something thing, an affluence thing or what, but lately I have heard EVERYTHING called boring.

"Music is boring." So go make some. Or shut up.

"God, tv is so boring." Donate your set and go outside.

"The internet is boring." Really? I imagine if all you do is feed crows on FarmVille and click through pictures from your first cousin-twice-removed's baby shower in Omaha, the internet is boring. However (and I'm sure you've all heard this already, but), I doubt the people involved in this story consider the internet boring.

Boring is not an excuse, and it's not a right to complain. Boring is a luxury, and whining about it is a flaunting of that luxury in front of people who work harder (or at least smarter) than the complainers.

If you're bored, invest in something. Invest in someone. I hope it's clear this isn't necessarily economic investment--it's time, it's value, it's connection. It's not always money. Step outside yourself and find out what someone else wants or needs for a change.

You don't have to change the world. You don't have to champion a cause. You don't even have to believe in anything (though I would recommend believing in something), other than the fact that you are not a self-sustaining island.

You can even stay bored, if that's really what you want. Just don't make me read it on your Facebook status.

"Don't text me to say Glee is on."

2010-05-20T23:00:00.000-07:00

I was hanging out with a bunch of friends from Emmaus tonight, and eventually, briefly, the topic of my blog came up. I mentioned, half as a joke, that one of my friends could write a guest post for me whenever she wanted.

"Oh, no," she said, "I hate writing."

"What?" I asked.

"I can't stand writing. I avoid it. I'd much rather do math or science."

"Me too," another friend chimed in. "I'd rather do math or science than write."

I looked at the people seated around the table as if they were aliens.

I'm not against math or science, but both are hard for me. And I guess what surprised me most was that I forgot that writing doesn't come easily to everyone. So many of my friends are writers, love writing and talking about writing, that the concept of someone truly hating writing has become utterly foreign to me.

I don't love writing every minute of every day. Anyone who writes will tell you that there are times finding words, and not even the right ones, is like finding a needle in a haystack (to beat the phrase to death). Sometimes it's worse--even when you're searching for that needle in that haystack (and really, who has ever done that?), you know it's there. Writing sometimes feels like digging through the muck of the barn for something that might not even exist.

But when I do love writing, I love it in a way unique to everything else. Words slip out, pour out, burst out and the doors and windows are flung wide open, and the oxygen is new, the world is new and so am I.

Sounds overdramatic, and I know it. But then again, I have a tendency to be overdramatic, regardless of what my caustic nonchalance may seem to show at times.

So, it's ok if you don't love writing. If you're a part of the blogathon, or if you spend a fair amount of time reading blogs in general, you probably do love it. But if you don't, that's fine. There are plenty of other misguided, starry-eyed romantics, waiting with pen in hand.

I promise I sometimes go outside.

2010-05-19T23:54:00.000-07:00

A confession right off: I didn't have a topic tonight. Plus, I got home kind of late because I went and saw Shutter Island again (I liked it better than I did the first time).

But then Eric, who (whom? I never remember. I need Grammar Girl--and just a heads up, tonight's grammar will be horrific) you all met semi-officially yesterday, asked me if he should bother watching "V", and I reminded him that it was the season finale, so it would only be the best "V" could do. Also, I said, I need a blog topic.

Tell them three things "V" could improve, he said.

I pondered this for a split second and said, Make it better, lose the bad CG backgrounds, and make it better.

I felt helpful, but it made me think of the number of tv shows I watch regularly. As usual, I blame the internet.

With Hulu and Netflix at my fingertips (and many months of insomnia) I have watched a ridiculous amount of tv without ever turning on the set.

Here's what we're currently working through:

"V" and "Lost"--both are ridiculous, but one is much, much better than the other. Guess which?

"Modern Family"--seriously, tied in my head with "30 Rock" for the funniest thing on TV right now. And for those of you who are asking, my favorite character is Mitchell. He's a gay straight-man (comedy-wise, folks), and I find that hilarious. Because I am a total dork for words.

"American Idol"--I don't actually watch this, usually. I just let my friend Lauren text me who gets booted every week, and as long as Crystal Bowersox wins, the world will be ok for me.

"Kitchen Nightmares"--I love Gordon Ramsey, probably to a pathological degree. Anything he does, I will watch. How boring is "Hell's Kitchen" by now? SO BORING. But he's on it, so I watch.

"The Office"--I hate to admit it, but "The Office" is losing steam. They're grasping at straws for plot points, but they still make me laugh, and I still love Toby Flenderson, so I'll watch till it's done.

"30 Rock"--You already know. Please don't make me tell you again.

"Community"-- Yes, at times, it's a little too clever and tries too hard to push the envelope within the bounds of a network. But it's still funny, and I love that each episode works within the context of a memorable movie.

"Parks and Recreation"--Amy Poehler is funny, no doubt. But the best part of the show isn't her, it isn't Aziz Ansari or even Rashida Jones. The rest of the cast, most of whom I had never seen before, are fantastic. Whoever it is that plays Ron Swanson is hysterical, mainly because we've all met that guy. And I would watch an entire show around April the intern. But no spinoffs yet, please.

"Party Down"--This is a goofy show (on Starz, of all places) about struggling actors and writers in Hollywood making a living as caterers. It's Starz trying (and failing) to be HBO, but it's still good.

Speaking of HBO, last two:

"The Wire"--Everybody loves "The Wire", right? And everybody who doesn't has to hear about it from somebody who does. One of these days, "The Wire" will have its own post here, but not today. I'm just barely into season 4, so DON'T TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS (especially not to Omar or Bubbles, thanks).

"Six Feet Under"--I haven't watched this in months because I promised not to watch it until I finished "The Wire", and then my watching of "The Wire" was delayed by someone. Ahem. But it's a great show, and just a brilliant concept, and I kind of can't wait to get back to it.

Like I said, I don't watch all of these in a row, or even all of these once a week, and they often pop up when I'm unable to sleep. And there will be a post on "The Wire" at some point. Promise.

Guest blogger: Eric Gerhardt

2010-05-18T23:41:00.000-07:00

Some of you may know my friend Heather, who recently - quite graciously, and in a move which I think demonstrated the pivotal role faith plays in her life - invited me to consider writing a guest post for her blog.

Heather and I met some years ago at a coffee shop here in Portland and we've been pretty good friends ever since, perhaps in part because the number of things we have in common is eclipsed only by the number of things we don't. Both of us love to write, for example, though only one of us is disciplined enough to do it regularly and consistently and (horrors) actually commit to doing so publicly. My own blog is in a sad state of lonely disrepair. I need only a Wordpress tumbleweed plugin to complete the desolation. But I've been enjoying following Heather's blog and even a little envious of all this writerly stuff going on over here, so the idea of contributing a bit was pretty appealing to me. At the time I was flattered and intrigued. Flattrigued, even. At the time.

Time passes, as it is wont to do, and then today came of course (the deadline, I mean) and all of that time between "Sure, I'd love to" and now, all of that time I was going to spend thinking up clever and thoughtful things to say here, got sucked up by me watching bad horror movies and playing Space Miner on my phone. And while I could certainly talk for many, many paragraphs about bad horror movies and Space Miner, I have a feeling Heather would be disappointed. (In case you're wondering, by the way, Space Miner is pretty awesome. There's asteroids *and* robots. And Session 9 was actually pretty good, as was The Skeleton Key, now that I think about it.)

But no! I was going to write a Serious Writerly Post. In fact yesterday night I actually wrote a pretty involved bit about poetry and life and meaning. And then I actually read it, and lo, it was bad, like spectacularly bad, and not even a little bit good, so I eated it.

So then earlier this evening I was sitting by the river telling Heather how abysmal my blog post was, and how it gave me a bit of indigestion after I eated it, but not to worry, still plenty of time. (Right around here is when I first tried on a fixed grin. You know, the "What, me worry?" grin. I'll spare you the picture.) "No worries!" I said. "I'll just write about Lost!" Lost is a regular fount of ideas. Ideas were stumbling over themselves in their hurry to present themselves. "Top Ten Loose Ends That I Bet They're Not Going to Get Around To Answering on 'Lost'" seemed really promising for a while. But the more I thought about that, the more I realized - man. Lost is giving me a headache and I'm not even watching it. Besides, Lost was coming on at 9pm and my post would be immediately obsolete unless I watched this episode first. So I waited till 9pm, at which time I promptly fell asleep.

But now I'm up! And now it's 10pm on Deadline Day! "Two hours to go, right?" I texted her. (I added a basic
smily emoticon because I'm not sure how to make a 'fixed and slightly desperate grin' emoticon.)

"Right :) have a topic?" she texted back. It's hard to make out here but I think there was a hint of the fixed grin in Heather's emoticon too. I know she's not really worried though. Heather actually has a stockpile of amazing blog posts all lined up. She's had today's post ready since February at least, and somehow she manages to still make them feel topical. I'm convinced she only posts late in the day to keep the other Blogathon participants on their toes.

So there I was - deadline looming, no topic, fixed grin &c. But then I had that magical realization: what do I need a topic for, anyway? I'm a guest blogger, and I can always fall back on the secret weapon of every blogger: a moderately amusing writer's block anecdote. I mean, sure, it's the blogging equivalent of the 'very special episode' of your favorite 80s sitcom where all the writers were on strike so they basically strung together a bunch of old clips and wrapped them in a 'Hey remember when that one thing happened? Let's remember it together' pretext of a story.

A copout? Sure. Intellectually bankrupt? Maybe a little. Endearingly reminiscient of the end of The Muppet Movie, when the story of the making of the movie becomes the movie itself?

Still, it's the kind of trick a blogger can really only get away with once. More than that, and you've violated a sacred pact with your readers, assuming your blog supports the 'sacred pact' plugin. But see, that's the brilliant thing about being a guest blogger - it only has to work once. Because tomorrow, folks, I'll be back to watching bad horror movies and playing Space Miner, and we'll return you to your regularly scheduled Heather. And I expect that will be a relief to all of us.

Three things I love.

2010-05-17T22:16:00.000-07:00

After yesterday's "Woe is me, tires flee from me" post, I figured some positivity was in order. And so, here are three things I love.

1. My Dad.

My dad called me today and offered to buy me a set of new tires, something I never could have afforded on my own. Because of thing I love number two, I ended up not needing them, but still. It was a reminder of how good my dad is at always coming through. I forget really easily how many people either don't have dads at all, or don't have dads who are really good men. And my dad is a really good man.

Not having a job this year has been really brutal. But my dad has always been a voice of calm, reminding me "We all know you're working really hard, and we all know how tough it is to get hired right now." Also, not having to be at work has afforded me the chance to be at my parents' house more, especially when my mom got sick. And I got to spend more time with Dad, and really get to know him as a whole person, not just "Dad".

2. Les Schwab Tire Centers

Yep. I love these guys. A bit of promotion for them: If you don't live in the West, you're out of luck. And it's a shame for you, really. because they are amazing. I've visited their stores in several towns, and the service is consistently exemplary. You can drive in and have them check your tire on the spot, and their warantees are fantastic. If something goes wrong with something you bought there, they replace it, no problem.

They also don't try to sell you stuff you don't need. I told you about the generous offer from my dad--asked them to check out all of the tires, even told them I was willing to buy a whole new set. They let me know that my tires were in good shape, and then they fixed the one that went flat. You all saw the photo from yesterday. Repaired. No charge. Amazing. Their website.

3. 30 Rock

Why aren't you watching this show? It's the best thing on network TV. The writing is brilliant, the jokes are fast, self-aware and unpredictable, the cast is perfect, and Tracy Morgan makes me wish every week he had been this funny on SNL. That is all.

Know how to change a tire?

2010-05-16T19:22:00.000-07:00

So, this is kind of a picture of my day.

Originally, I was rolling away from my house and instantly heard the thunkathunkathunk that told me something was wrong. Stopped my car where it was, and saw that the tire was flat. When I rolled the car back to the curb (a distance of maybe seven feet), I found what you see--the tire had actually come off the wheel.

I'll call somebody tomorrow, and it'll all eventually work out fine. But in that moment, my brain did the dramatic thing it always does, and I thought, This is pretty much like your life right now.

Shut up, brain, I said. Stop being dramatic.

It's true, though, the brain said. Things are sort of flat, and they're slipping.

Grr, I said.

And it's not like it's life or death, I mean, you'll be okay--fine, even. But it's not exactly good.

As a result, I am in a bit of a pity party today. And really looking forward to something good happening soon, whenever soon is.

Shutter Island: Scorsese's vacation home.

2010-05-15T23:01:00.000-07:00

Spoiler alert: They're possible, but actually I don't think there's many...

For those of you who are new to this blog, you need to know that I am a) poor, and b) living within reasonable distance of multiple theaters that not only show movies for three or four dollars, but also have beer and pizza available.

This means that there is virtually NO movie I won't wait to see. And so, today's review, months after everyone else's, is "Shutter Island".

A couple more things you should know about me: I'm a wuss. I don't watch spooky movies if I can help it (When I originally texted a friend saying the movie looked good (way back in January), they responded with "YOU want to see Shutter Island? Who are you, again?"). And I like older Leonardo DiCaprio a lot. Also, I read tons of reviews. All the time.

So I had heard the twist, most of the reviews I read were bad, and my friend Ashley announced that it was ridiculous--so ridiculous, in fact, that she wanted to watch it again, just to see me respond.

All I need to tell you is this: Leonardo DiCaprio and Mark Ruffalo are federal marshals sent out to remote and treacherous Shutter Island, which was formerly, in part, a Civil War fort and now serves as a penitentiary for the criminally insane. The writers never let you forget the 'criminally insane' part--characters repeat it endlessly. One of their patients has gone missing, even though her cell was locked and she had no shoes! And there's a shocking twist!

That's all you need to know. What follows is two hours of dramatic music when nothing dramatic is happening, silence from the score when dramatic things ARE happening, and approximately one billion allusions to the twist. So many, in fact, that when a character finally commits the twist to real words, I leaned over to Ashley and said, "At least he finally said it! They've only told us eight times over."

Granted, I knew the twist going in. But for a Scorsese film, it just wasn't very good. I got the pulpy mystery quality, and the importance of the time setting, and the film looks good. But it ended up feeling longer than two hours, and I ended up not caring one bit about any of the characters.

When I came home, I discovered via the wonder of the internet that plenty of people LOVE this movie and think it's brilliant. So perhaps I haven't given it a fair shot. Perhaps I looked at it too simplistically.

Have you seen it? What did you think? What's another movie that you had to give a second try to appreciate?

less is more (sometimes).

2010-05-14T23:06:00.000-07:00

I don't feel funny today. I had blogs in my head earlier that were funny, and I just don't think they'll work. Back on the shelf they go.

1t hasn't been a bad day by any means. I got to spend some time with Laura, who I hadn't seen in months (her blog, something new, is intermittent, but lovely), for example.

But I also have a lot of friends who are experiencing deep sadness right now, and an acute loneliness. The situations may be different, but the root feelings are the same.

The blessing for me, and maybe this is selfish to admit, is that they have shared this loneliness, this sorrow with me. I am a champion of holding things down til they leak out the side, usually in the most opportune time and place. So when someone is open and honest freely, I cherish that.

I only hope I answer it well. I know I haven't always done so. My words are often working to hard for my ears to be fully open. So tonight, I'm a little quieter on purpose.

I need a blogging mentor!

2010-05-14T01:17:00.000-07:00

I'll tell you all a secret.

I don't really know what I'm doing.

I like writing, and I like writing about what I know.

I like that people seem to enjoy reading what I have to say.

I like that the internet exists, as it allows me to hear from people I wouldn't otherwise be aware existed, and it allows these same people to hear me.

I like that the internet allows me to have lots of options and ways of doing things, because it helps me look like I know what I'm doing.

But I don't.

The WordCount Blogathon has been fun, it's been fascinating, and it's also made me keenly aware of how new I am at this. I see buttons and things on other people's sites, and I think, perhaps that would be helpful.

And perhaps it is. But I don't really understand what I'm doing still, and so I have only a vague idea of how to do it better.

What I need, I've decided, is a blogging mentor. Not a writing mentor (though I'll always take the advice), not a social media mentor (I like to think I get it--pompous, I know), but a real nuts and bolts, "here's how to fit this in this box, here's why a move to WordPress would be good for you, here's why having a Digg button is worth it or not" kind of mentor.

There are thousands of terrible, amateur, lazy bloggers out there. I am tired of being one.

There are also thousands (yes, I think thousands) of brilliant, talented, savvy bloggers out there. I would like to glean wisdom from one. Or a dozen. And I'm poor, so I can't pay $150.00 for your blogging class. But I can buy you a cup of coffee, probably, or offer general comic relief.

Send help. :)

Grab your Snuggies and run!

2010-05-12T22:44:00.000-07:00

The end is near, you guys. I know, I know. Somebody's been saying that for the last 2,000 years, but now there's a new fiction series out about it, and that MAKES IT TRUE.

If any of you, like me, were blessed and cursed to grow up surrounded by Christian commercial culture in the 90s, you probably remember the "Left Behind" book series. For the unfamiliar, the 264 or so books (I think there were actually 12) chronicled a fictionalized account of the time described Revelation from the Rapture, through the tribulation to the second coming of Christ on earth. When I was in junior high or high school, I read the first four or five books and then gave up (or grew up... I think the two went together).

Maybe you've been thinking, Gee, I wish there was a new series of fear-mongering, dread-inducing but creatively-bland and therefore Christian bookseller-approved books I could jump into for the summer. You're in luck! Tim LaHaye has returned, and they made a preview for the series!

Please, please watch the trailer on YouTube. Shame his publisher couldn't get his name right.

We're living in the end times, also frequently called last days! Yes. this is true. People in the 1960s lived in the end times, too. As did people in the 1860s, the 1200s and the disciples, one week after Jesus took off back to heaven. The end times are nothing new.

Don't get me wrong. I love Jesus. I believe in the truth of the Bible. I went to an evangelical seminary, for crying out loud. But these "prophetic" novels drive me nuts. Jesus could return at any moment! But probably not before you have a chance to pick up LaHaye's latest book. Still, you never know. Better get it soon, just in case.

But what concerns me most about this is when LaHaye says, 'People intuitively believe the Bible...when push comes to shove, like it did on 9/11, people en masse turned to God.'

I have a few problems with this. One, I don't think people intuitively believe the Bible. I do believe that people intuitively believe in God, or at least often want to, but the Bible is another matter. Maybe it's just that I'm too cynical--maybe I've been in Portland too long. (Evidence of this: Portlanders, remember the PDXBoom last month? Classic tweet from that night, via @msfour: "best #pdxboom theory: it was the Rapture, which is why all of PDX is still here")

Two, I am really tired of 9/11 getting invoked for absolutely everything.

Two-b)(or not two-b, haha) the fact that people turned to something en masse is not an evidence of its validity.

To wit, here are some other things people have turned to en masse, just in the past, oh, century or so:

the Macarena
pet rocks
sea monkeys
goldfish swallowing
bowler hats
the Twilight saga
perms

I don't offer up this list to mock God. But what I do offer it for is to show that the fact that people can turn to something in large numbers doesn't mean anything if it doesn't last. I'm sure some people had life-changing spiritual experiences on 9/11/01. Others prayed because they panicked. And a week later, when their city wasn't attacked, they forgot the prayers.

We don't pray to sea monkeys for protection, and we don't carry pet rocks as talismans to predict the future. Yet, if this video is to be believed, we can treat God that way.

Third and final thing: LaHaye has built a career based on fictional stories about future events, and, again, from what I see in the video and my knowledge of the Left Behind series alone, has built a theology around a very difficult and obtuse section of the biblical text--a theology that states that your fear is warranted, and that God exists to pluck us all from peril.

Time and time again, the Bible showcases stories of people who are in terrible shape.Their lives are falling apart, sometimes as consequences of their actions, and sometimes by no fault of their own. And what we see time and time again is not a God who raptures His people away to set them on streets of gold, but a God who refuses to abandon them, even when they have cursed and denied Him with every breath they have been given. And we have. People don't intuitively believe the Bible, they don't run to God instinctively. They (we) run away, and because He's good, He pursues us.

Whew! That got a bit more preachy than I had intended, but like everything, I think it's all connected. Please don't be sucked in by end times paranoia. It's unnecessary, it's typically commercial, and it's designed to frighten you into belief, which is no belief at all.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this, especially if you come from a different background than I do. What do these kinds of stories do for (or to) you?

"So, basically, you just swap witty text messages all day long."

2010-05-11T23:01:00.000-07:00

I'll be honest--I've been scrambling for a topic today. I even popped over to this Netvibes list, created by Blogathoner Dylan, of discordianZen, to see what other people were writing about. Here's a broad sample:

their kids
their social media-influenced business
their garden
their cooking projects
their crafty projects

Being single, childless and currently unemployed (see the donate button? Ok, I'm done), I don't have some of those things. And being largely useless & woefully untalented at almost anything requiring the use of my hands (not by any real physical malady, just pure awkwardness) those other things are out for me too. And I thought, Heather, what are you good at?

You're looking at what I'm good at. I'm not claiming this is the best work I've ever done, or that the work, in this moment, is even particularly good. But this, this writing thing, and telling people what I think about things, is what I'm good at. Sometimes I even get to be funny in the middle of it.

Another couple things I'm good at are more difficult to translate into this form. I'm good at drinking coffee for long, slow periods of time, and I'm good (I hope) at listening. In the last couple weeks I've had the opportunity to hear several of my friends share their hearts, and while it's an absolutely brilliant way to spend your time (almost the best), I doubt they'd appreciate if I divulged the details here.

So... writing, coffee-drinking and listening. I hope I'm as good at those things as I think I am. When that doesn't work, I can always resort to the snappy text exchange.

What atypical or overly common thing are you surprisingly good at?

My favorite blogs.

2010-05-10T19:17:00.000-07:00

Before we get to the blogging goodness, some housekeeping. Look to your right. See that yellow thing?

That's a donate button. In a sense, it's shameless self-promotion and groveling. But as many of you know, I am currently unemployed, and money is in short supply. If you like this blog (and I hope you do), please consider making a donation to the Heather Has Time to Write Because She's Jobless fund. Of course, I'll never know who all comes by here and DOESN'T click it, so the pressure's off you. :)
__________________________________________________________

As part of the WordCount Blogathon 2010, (most) the participating bloggers are taking today to highlight other blogs they love. So far, I've noticed a lot of people highlighting blogs that help them work, help them write, help them succeed. And those are great. But most of my blogs focus on one or both of my favorite things...

I love God, and I love laughing. These blogs help me in that in some way. In no particular order:

1. Go Fug Yourself

This is the first one...the first blog I ever got addicted to. It's two girls, Heather and Jessica, talking about celebrity fashion. I don't know much about fashion, but I visit this site nearly every weekday, and these girls make me laugh ridiculously hard. Also, last fall, via Twitter, they tried to dissuade me from wearing leg warmers. I told them I would be the poor man's Chloe Sevigny, and they told me to go forth with boldness, or something (see the blog, you'll understand). I'm sure they don't NEED more readers, but...
@fuggirls

2. BizChick Blogs

I love finding blogs this way...a friend of mine from high school saw (via Facebook) that I was blogging, and put me in touch with her friend. This is the only business/work-related blog on my list, but I love her style. It's accessible and practical for newbies like me (or maybe you).
@bizchickblogs

3. Sarah Hoopes (Diary)

Sarah is a Portlander who had a brilliant idea. Since "15 years is a great filter", she posts a page of her diaries from "this day, 15 years and older." The thing I love about Sarah's blog is that I think we can all see some of ourselves in her teenage tales of lust and longing, and the general injustice that is adolescence. Plus, I am almost certain she performed at "Mortified" with my friend Molly a while back, and how can you not love that? She's also been more than generous in regards to this here little blog, and I'm grateful.
@sarahhoopes

4. Blog One Another

The joys of Twitter are, I think, endless, and I happened upon this blog here. Jon Reid is in San Jose, CA, which was the "big city" next to where I grew up. His thoughts on faith and life and what it means to have the two irrevocably intertwined have made me think, and he has been kind and gracious, even when I have disagreed with his perspectives. He's also been very generous toward me and my blog. I love Twitter!
@jonmreid

5. Jesus Needs New PR

This is the blog of Matthew Paul Turner, who used to write exclusively about Contemporary Christian Music for magazines, is a bit of a cynic, now has a few books to his credit, and is very, very funny. He and his wife also blog for World Vision, Be on the lookout for the "Jesus Pictures of the Day".
@jesusneedsnewpr

BONUS BLOG! Hyperbole and a Half

I don't know who this girl is, where she comes from or what she eats for breakfast, but she is FUNNY. This blog is a celebration of all those stupid things you probably think about but would never actually voice, coupled with terrible (sorry), hilarious illustrations. NOTE: This blog is not advised for you if you are strongly anti-foul language, as it tends to be pervasive. But you will laugh, I promise.

Grammar nerds, look back about five posts for her post about the use of the term "alot". It's heaven.
@AllieBrosh

My mom is better than your mom.

2010-05-09T20:29:00.000-07:00

You can fight me on this one, but it's Mother's Day, so we all have to decide we're right.

I do know one thing about my mom, something that has gotten clearer as I have gotten older: She had no idea what was coming.

I don't say this because I was such a horrible kid (in my own, insensitive way I still think I was probably awesome, as kids go), but because when I look at old pictures of my parents, it's what I think now. How could they have known what was waiting for them?

I'm sure in some sense this is true of everyone, but here's the crude, rough cliff's notes of my mom's story:

She married my dad in 1975, when she was just 17 and he 22. They're still married (a feat in itself).

When I was born in 1981, following a healthy pregnancy, I was blue, not moving and almost written off as a lost cause. Even when I revived, my parents were told I wouldn't see, hear. walk or talk. My mom was 23 (I have since done all of those things).

Eight years later, my sister Tara was born, and despite every measure being taken to ensure a safe pregnancy, Tara had massive oxygen loss that has caused her to have severe physical and mental disabilities, epilepsy and other concerns. She remains a happy, beautiful kid.

So when other mothers experienced the stress of balancing ballet class and soccer practice for their kids, my mom balanced physical therapy, doctor's appointments and the host of shocks and surprises that followed. This is not to say that other mothers have it easy. But I think it's fair to say that when you have kids, there are stresses you can anticipate, and others you can't.

Throughout all of this, my mom has continued to work as a nurse, serving others when she is not caretaking at home. I have been out of my parents' house for a while, but Tara remains there, and requires round-the-clock care from both my parents.

My mother is the best juggler I have ever seen, and she manages to keep things running with grace, and humor, and a desire to serve others that can't be quieted. I know this is just a simple blog post, and bloggers all over are writing similar praises of their mothers today, many of them far more eloquently, but I have to say it: for me, my mom is the best, and I can only hope to glean some of her fortitude, her wit and her compassion for my life.

Love you, Mom. :)

Ireland is ruined for me.

2010-05-08T21:58:00.000-07:00

Before you (or mainly, my mom) freak out, you should know that the title of this blog is mostly a misnomer. (Long-time readers will also have noted by now that the whole 'titling-every-post-with-a-funny-quote' thing didn't really last. It wasn't working. But don't worry--they'll still pop up.)

When I was about 12, I made a list of things I wanted to do before I die. In the interest of full disclosure, I'm not entirely certain this list was ever committed to paper, but it definitely lived in my head. And at this point, the only things I can remember being on it were "live in Ireland" and "swim with dolphins, but not somewhere they make you wear a safety vest with a logo on it".

Since then, the list has become a half-joke with myself, and I add celebrity things to it, like "kiss John Cusack on the cheek" and "give Michael Stipe a hug". But I still haven't swum (swam? swimmed? Swommeled?) with dolphins.

In 2003, from January to May, I participated in a semester abroad in Galway, Ireland. I relished every minute of it, and while other students were consistently travelling to Rome or Athens, I was consistently sitting around talking to locals and falling deeply in love with one or two or three Irish young men who may or may not have been attractive, given the amount of alcohol consumed, but who were witty and hilarious and quick and I loved them.

After graduating college in 2004, I went back to Ireland from September to December, lived in Dublin and worked at the Irish Film Institute, in their archive. The job wasn't as sexy as it sounds, and being in Dublin was much lonelier and less personal than Galway had been. The point is, though, I spent a fair amount of time in Ireland.

This means that, in my small, American outsider way, I kind of know what Ireland's like, or at least what it was like til the end of 2004. And that means that, in America, Ireland is ruined for me.

Before I lived in Galway (which is a great town and you should visit--Dublin could be any big city anywhere, for the most part), I was an aficionado for all things Irish. I had those obnoxious Putamayo Celtic music cds, I had read "Angela's Ashes" three times, and I told myself I loved Yeats and the movie "The Commitments", even though neither of those things were true.

As much as Americans want to tell you that we are culturally sensitive, there's a small-to-large part of us that thinks and hopes that Irish people are actually leprechauns. Americans get off the plane at Shannon or Dublin International shouting "Erin Go Braaaa!" and "Top o' the mornin' to ya!!!" without realizing a crucial fact:

No one in Ireland talks this way. No one.

They also don't have Lucky Charms for sale in the supermarket. Most of them don't live in thatched-roof houses and sit by the fire, staring at the sea and talking about silkies, either.

Dublin made me bitter and angry toward tourists in the extreme. In Galway, I was constantly getting mistaken for Irish by the American tourists ("Oh, God, Hal, she's American!" I remember one woman saying, with the strongest midwestern accent I have ever heard.), but I didn't watch them interact with the culture much. Most of the tourists who made it to Galway seemed to be a little more aware, anyway.

In Dublin, one of my bus stops was also a bus stop for those obnoxious red sightseeing buses (my other bus stop was in front of a strip club). And one day, the bus driver/tour guide was talking the last of his passengers off his bus. They were a middle aged couple. They were very fat. They were carrying eight shopping bags each (this is the equivalent of wearing a target across your face). They were taking their sweet time.

The man was asking the driver about more shopping. He responded in a strong Dubliner accent, his speech peppered with all sorts of clever and expected "Irish-isms". And I looked at this man, and thought, "Wow, he's literally jolly." And he chortled, and the Americans laughed loudly, and shuffled down the street, weighed down by their Aran sweaters and Irish linens.

The man walked up to the window of the sandwich shop behind me, leaving his bus, and sat heavily at the outdoor counter with a sigh. "Is this day over yet?" he said to the shop owner wearily. Or, I should say, he said to the shop owner in a completely different accent. Still Irish, but mellower, less campy.

Now, you can either get frustrated at this man for faking these people out, or you can think about the fact that he gets tipped by Americans, and the more he gives Americans what they want to see, the bigger his tips will be.

Working at the Irish Film Institute, I also got to see movies like "Adam and Paul" (view the trailer on YouTube here), about two heroin addicts in Dublin. It's a really good film, but it will never be distributed in the states, because it ruins the image that Americans have of the Irish. We might know there are heroin addicts everywhere, but we don't want to see it. Incidentally, most of "Adam and Paul" was filmed either in the neighborhood I lived in, or in the section of Dublin where I worked.

So now, whenever someone suggests something "Irish" to me, I all but recoil. Movies are overdrawn, most of the music either makes me painfully nostalgic or just puts me in pain, and most books, shows, stories and the like are either too overdrawn to be tolerated or are too spot on to be endured.

There are, of course, exceptions. If you haven't seen "My Left Foot", you should, mostly because Daniel Day-Lewis is in it and Daniel Day-Lewis is in the business of Changing Your Life.

And for the dozens of people who have said, "Oh, you have cerebral palsy. Yeah, I've seen 'My Left Foot'."--I have cerebral palsy, but I don't have it like that. Okay?

I will probably go back to Ireland at some point, but it won't be for a while. I have never liked being a tourist, but maybe if I wait long enough, I can go back and be that woman on the bus, buying green and orange trinkets for everyone she knows. I might even love it.

Do you have places or memories like this, that have almost spoiled an idea over time? What do you do with it?

It's late!

2010-05-08T02:12:00.000-07:00

I have officially missed my deadline for the WordCount Blogathon 2010. Technically, this is the second time I have missed my deadline, since I didn't officially write a post on the first of May.

Call me lazy (go ahead, do it), but I think sometimes the act of missing deadlines is important.

I visited with a friend today who, for reasons both in her control and out of it, has been struggling with anxiety. As we talked, I heard her saying that every activity she had, every bit of time she spent, had a purpose.

For the record, I am all for having structure and purpose and a plan for your day. But sometimes you just need to hang out and be dumb. My advice to this friend was to find some women she could hang around and not have to grow with, not have to learn from, not have to work her brain over.

"Sit and talk about purses if you want," I said.

And tonight, I could have stayed home and written one of those deep, thoughtful posts that has been brewing, but I went to Eric's and watched The Wire instead. And the time, I think, was well spent. I brought key lime pie.

You can't (or at least it's not wise to) be lazy every day. But by the same token, you can't have every moment scheduled and planned and full of opportunities for growth. Sometimes things have to calm down, lay still, and chill out. And as luck would have it, we grow in that.

What about you? What's your favorite way to be lazy? What do you wish you worked at less?

And by the way, the Bipartisan Cafe, on SE 78th and Stark in Portland, makes the best key lime pie I've ever had.

A Single Man (2009)

2010-05-06T23:57:00.000-07:00

I just came from seeing "A Single Man", for which Colin Firth and Julianne Moore both got Oscar nods (neither won).

The plot is basically this: It's 1964, and Firth, an English professor at a small college, is grieving the passing of his partner of 16 years. Moore is the best friend, and the two of them have a history as well. But, basically, it's a movie about grief.

Actually, it can be said better than that: the movie is about many things (being gay in 1964, for example), but it is really about this man moving through his grief: how he does it well, and how he maybe doesn't do it as well as he should.

And of course, Firth is amazing. I mean, come on. The man's a stud.

One of his students in the film is played by Nicholas Hoult, who most of us probably remember from "About a Boy" (2002). And he does a fine job, but the really remarkable thing is that, in seven years, Nicholas Hoult went from this:

to this:

Yep. There's our boy Nick.

So, see "A Single Man". It's well-done, it's stylistic, it's totally gorgeous, it's sad, and you'll get to sit there now going, I can't believe this is the same kid who sang "Killing Me Softly" for his mom at the school talent show.

2010 WordCount Blogathon

2010-05-06T12:00:00.000-07:00

As you may have seen, I am taking part in the 2010 WordCount Blogathon (a post a day for the month of May), and so are a bunch of other people. They've been generous enough to list everyone on their site, and I figured it was time to do the same. So...Blogathon 2010 (hosted by Portland's own Michelle Rafter)!

Rebecca I. Allen - 356 No More, A journey from couch to fit
Christa Avampato - Christa in New York, Curating a Creative Life
Anjuli - bhulbhulaiyan, a complicated entanglement of zigzag pathways
Joan Lambert Bailey - PopcornHomestead, Gardening, place and my life in Tokyo
Karen Bannan - Natural as Possible Mom, Because natural isn't always possible — or easy
t.a. barnhart - Left Coast Foodie, Damn, that's good: a foodie blog by someone who knows what he's doing
June Bell - Enough is enough! Advice and support
Athena l. Borozon - The Desert Rat Dialogues
Jane Boursaw* - Film Gecko, Cool movie news and reviews
Alisa Bowman - Project Happily Ever After, Marriage advice from a recovering divorce daydreamer
Carson Brackney - Carson Brackney, Consultant, Copywriter, Content Provider, Factotum
Ben Bradley, Ben’s (Not Quite) First Ever Presence on the Interweb, Blog of an aspiring human being
Sheena Brockington – Greenhouse Advertising, Cultivating ideas for small businesses
Danielle Buffardi* - Horrible Sanity, Going into the mind of a mother and freelancer
Beverly Burmeier - Going on Adventures, Travel stories from near and far
Diane Calhoun – Violet is My Color, Life just happens, deal with it
Danielle Carter – Live and Love Life VA, Helping you do more of what you love, and less of what you don't!
Fiona Chan - Candy Prison, A typical teenager
Joy Choquette - One Year. 156 Fears. Life Changing. One woman tackles her fears
Bernard Chung - Green Tea World, It's more than just a cup of green tea here
Caroline Clemmons - A Writer's Life, Writing tips, interviews and miscellaneous ramblings
Shelley Clunie - ShelCluzo’s Blog, Healthy, wealthy and wise at 62
Cocotte - Leaping into Life, Uncommon stories to nurture body, mind & soul
Christianne Cook – A Day in My Mind, The world through my eyes
Sue Dickman – Life Divided, Food, garden, books . . . and India
Jackie Dishner – Bike with Jackie, Using my special brand of BIKE to teach you how to turn obstacles into opportunities
Tracy Doerr – Tracy Doerr, A chronicle of ideas and things that inspire me
Ron S. Doyle* – Blog Salad, All the blog that's fit to eat
Dana DuGan – Chick with a View, It's good to live on the edge. The view is better.
Dan Eldridge – Labor Party, A Young Pioneers Media blog for Creative and Alternative Entrepreneurs
Cindy Elsberry - Doodle9, Paddling down the stream…of consciousness
Heather Faesy – Blame it on the Full Moon, My kids, writing and reading
R. Jill Fink – My Opera, Musings about writing, food, weight loss and other hilarious things
Jennifer Fink – Blogging Bout Boys, All about boys -- raising them, educating them, learning with them
Damaris Fish – Damaris Fish on Genealogy, Researching my family history and helping others with theirs
Dylan Fogle – Discordianzen, The map is not the territory
Katie Foote – Littlefoote’s Lab, A chronicle of what the unemployed girl in NoPo is up to.
Heather Frendo - Thrifty Knee Socks
AndreaGenevieve – Andrea Genevieve, Where social medium, technology and higher education meet
Alexandra Grabbe – Chezsven's Blog, Life as a green innkeeper on Outer Cape Cod
Elyse Grau – My Garden to Table, Growing what you eat, eating what you grow
Wendy Korn Heppt – Budget Style on a Shoestring, Budget savvy fashion, beauty and related news and ideas
Katie Hinderer – Write Beyond the Cubicle, A freelance writer’s thoughts on the industry
Amanda Hirsch – Tastee Pudding, In the search for creative life, the proof is in the Pudding
Lisa Jaffe Hubbell – Eat, Read and Be Harried, Making it through life one book at a time
Nancy Mann Jackson – Growing Food and Kids, Gardening, harvesting, cooking and preserving with kids in tow
Robert Janelle – Without an Apostrophe, Ottawa freelance tech journalist
Elizabeth King Humphrey – The Write Elizabeth, Writing. Creativity. Play. Life.
Walter L. Johnson II – Georgia News Beat, An inside look at what’s happening in the state of Georgia
B.J. Keeton – Professor Beej, Pop culture commentary with an academic slant
Amy Kocur – AmyLizK, Maryland/ DC Metro area arts and analysis
Courtney Koschel – Finding My Muse: A New Writer’s Journey,
Sara Lancaster – No.2PenBlog, Resource for my clients and others interested in marketing communications
Bill Lascher – Lascher at Large, A contemplative, pondered and unrushed thought banquet.
Mary Dixon Lebeau – In the Boom Boom Room, Remember staying out until the street lights came on?
Pooja Lohana – Brown-eyed Mystic, On writing and more!
Sarah E. Ludwig – Parenting by Trial and Error, The learning curve in raising kids
Jenny Lynes – Welcome to the Good Life, A student environmentalist exploring responsible, cheap, and fun living
Su-sieee! Mac – This and That. Here and There. Now, Sometimes Then., Rambling about anything and everything that interests me
Harry Marks – Curious Rat, Chewing at the tech industry's wires...nom nom nom...
Joanne Mason – English Idioms, What they mean, how we use them, where they came from
Kim McNeill – Kim’s Play Place, An active parent trying to make sure my kids are educated
Teresa Mears – MiamiOntheCheap, Discounts, deals and free events in Miami
Rose Medlock – RFM, Rose Flores Medlock
Heather Minton – Stumbling into Grace, The adventure of following God and figuring it out in Portland
Kathy Murray – Out and Employed, News, career advice and job resources for ex-offenders
Alexis Neely – Life, Business and the Pursuit of Truth, A blog about the intersection
Charles Newbery – Pine Tree Paradise, The life of a work-at-home writer and father of three
Eric Novinson – Costing a Green Future, A green business blog
Tracy O'Connor – I Hate My Message Board, Humor, crankiness, a museum of snack foods and the odd motivational piece
Andrea Parker – Autism Fundraising Guide, For parents of children with autism
Lilac Penafiel – What Have You Learned Today, Life lessons learned everyday...
Tara Phillips – Two Hands and a Road Map
Jennie Phipps – WalletPop, AOL's personal finance blog
Ed Pilolla – Ed Pilolla, What the f*** is love?
Sue Poremba – I Breathe, Therefore I Write
Michelle Rafter, WordCount, Freelancing in the digital age
Kate Reilly – Polka Dot Suitcase, Family fun through creative living
Meredith Resnick – The Writer’s [Inner] Journey, Bestselling authors, professional creatives and emerging voices in quirky dialogue about how they write and why it works
Vanessa Richardson – Way Out West Texas, City girl from California moves to Way Out West Texas, what will happen?
Rebecca Robinson – Rebecca Robinson, Updates on freelance projects, reflections on journalism innovation in Portland and beyond, and brainstorms from the wee hours
Carey Rossi – Thank You Everything, Appreciate the little things
Natasha Rogue – The Writing Blues, Little tips on how I find motivation to get past the difficulties of writing life and the road to publication
Andrea M. Rotondo – Luxury Cruise Bible, Your source for unbiased luxury cruise reviews
Melissa Sais – Digital Mom, Raising kids in a digital world
Lisa Samalonis – Single Parent Savings
Sami – Stonerpreneur, Stoner antics as they relate to my business and personal growth
Dina Santorelli – Making Baby Grand, And I thought giving birth to real babies was hard...
Lacey Savage – Tips and WIPS, Talking about writing fiction
Lilian Schaer – Food and Farming Canada, A blog about the farming side of food
Kristie Sloan – mkBeautyZone, Skin care and makeup information training and products
Matthew Smith – Smidgen PC, Big news about tiny PCs
Michelle Smith - Law Office of Michelle R. Smith, Because it’s your life, your family and your choice
Stephanie Suesan Smith – Stephanie Suesan Smith PhD, Information Central
Claire Splan – Alameda Garden, Gardening issues in the San Francisco Bay Area and beyond
Margarita Tartakovsky – Self-ish, {Sorta} Sage Advice on Being a Better You
Thinkingtoohard – Thinking too hard, This is where I empty my head
Blake Thompson – Black Thompson daht Net, “I'm just saying..."
This is my first year!
Jodi Torpey – Western Gardeners, Your online guide to gardening in the West
Paul Tullis – Grim Tidings- True/Slant, My rants about politics & policy
Jan Udlock - Imperfect Mom
Brandi-Ann Uyemura – Brandi-Ann Uyemura, Rather be freelancing: tips for the beginning writer
Beth VanHoose – Writing in Sand, My adventures in freelance writing, and other stuff
Rachel Vidoni – East Coast Musings, A humorous look at kids, family and life
Jen Walker – My Morning Chocolate, Writing, experiments, culture and adventure in food
Katie Jett Walls – One per Week, 52 posts on things that matter to me
Sarah Webb – Webb of Science, Connecting science and life
Rebecca Weber – Newstilt SAfrica
Susan Weiner – Investment Writing, For investment and wealth managers who want to communicate more effectively with clients and prospects
Rashida Williams – Really Rashida, Urban lit author blogging about my life and times
Jennifer Willis – Jennifer Willis, Thoughts on religion, sustainability, media and culture
* These awesome participants are also WordCount Blogathon 2010 sponsors.

"I would like to preemptively apologize for whatever comes next."

2010-05-05T23:53:00.000-07:00

Today, I did many things.

I had a job interview.

I had dinner with a friend I hadn't seen in six months.

And then I saw Birdemic: Shock and Terror. And it was all over.

Birdemic is a film made by a James Nguyen from San Jose. His budget was $10,000. The story is simple: A bunch of maniacal crows and eagles suddenly attack Half Moon Bay, killing the patrons. Oh, the shock. Oh, the terror. Right?

This movie got attention because it is so absolutely, completely horrible. There isn't a thing done well. To be honest, my brain is still recovering. It feels like oatmeal.

The highlight of the film is the killer birds, who are entirely computer generated, and made with the kind of technology that was outdated years and years ago. The images, superimposed on the film and observed crookedly by the actors, flap in place and then burst in crayon red when shot.

The director apparently took himself to Sundance, and passed out flyers hoping someone would pick it up. Someone did, and now it's being hailed as the new best worst film ever made, and a cult classic.

It's also playing for one more night at the Clinton Street Theatre in Portland. Originally, my friend and I were the only ones in the theater, and we were hollering at the screen in glee. Eventually, about six other people came in. We more or less continued to holler. Apologies. But seriously, when a movie's this crazily bad... I don't blame my friend for shouting, "This movie made it to Sundance!" at the screen. Among other things.

If I haven't convinced you to see it, watch the trailer.

You're welcome.

Songs I am loving right now

2010-05-04T23:36:00.000-07:00

Ellery-You Did Everything Right

I got the EP with this song for free at www.noisetrade.com; fell in love with Ellery when I got a Paste cd ages ago with their song "Anna" on it.

Broken Bells-The High Road

I've talked about this song before, but I'm still not over it. It keeps playing on a repeat loop for me. I have decided James Mercer could sing me tax codes if he wanted to.

What songs are you loving right now?

Did the good old days ever really exist?

2010-05-03T23:44:00.001-07:00

One of the things that frustrates me is when someone suggests that our culture or our world at large needs to "return to a simpler time" or "remember the good old days". Now, I realize that, being under 30 (or 40, or 50, or whatever the arbitrary cutoff for these kind of discussions is today), I'm doing exactly what everyone thinks of doing, reveling in the foolishness of my youth, whatever. (And yes, I just said 'whatever'. Don't hate me.)

There are a few problems with the "let's go back" line of logic, however. The easy way of saying it is that, essentially, the good old days weren't as good for everyone as they were for you, and that while times may have been simpler before today. that simplicity also reflected a lack of options for many people, even yourself. And sometimes we might feel that having fewer options is better. It is simpler.

For me, when I hear someone calling for a "return to old fashioned values" or the morals of their grandparents, I'm always curious what they're actually searching for. It's certainly true that there are problems in our society that weren't present fifty years ago, or at least not in the forms we see them. Yes, we live in a busy, sexualized and secularized culture. But a debate over whether this is good or bad is fruitless, and calls to revert are pure fantasy.

There's an endless quality to this desire to reach back--do we go back before MTV, or before penicillin? Do we go back to the past we wish we could have had, or the past as it actually was? Memories are never reliable: your life, even the worst moments of it, seared in your brain, becomes slightly softened and distant with time. Depending on what's being recalled, this can either be a curse or a mercy.

I'm curious to know what people think of this "returning to simpler times/better values/insert buzzworthy phrase here" idea. What do you wish people collectively could return to? What are you glad to have left behind?

And the biggest question: Is anything ever exactly where it should be? Or is there always something better, something worse?

Startup of another crazy month

2010-05-02T23:38:00.000-07:00

Hi, friends.

For some reason, I signed up to do the 2010 WordCount blogathon... considering my track record with National Novel Writing Month and the like, you might wonder why. But there are all these things waiting to be written, and I am hoping needing a blog a day will cause me to stop procrastinating and write them.

There's the blog about Haiti, the blog about David Bazan, the blog about Good Friday (welcome at any time, I hope), the blog about the crazy amounts of grace I see being spent on one another daily by my friends.

And yes, technically I didn't post May 1. But I really like my list of 20 things more worth your time than Avatar, so I am claiming that one for yesterday.

Lastly. what's a launch of a blogathon without a little narcissism? I loved my hair so much just now I had to take a picture.

...and to all a good night.

20 things more worth your time than "Avatar".

2010-04-30T22:25:00.000-07:00

1. Serving the homeless.

2. Working in your yard.

3. Working in your neighbor's yard.

4. Working in the yard of someone you've never met who lives across town and doesn't like you.

5. Contemplating your own mortality.

6. Baking scones.

7. Visiting the World's Biggest Ball of Twine.

8. Visiting the World's Biggest Peanut.

9. Flipping your mattress.

10. Paying your library fines.

11. Boycotting puppies.

12. Reading US magazine.

13. Campaigning for Ralph Nader.

14. Learning to hold your breath for a long time.

15. Breeding alpacas.

16. Collecting stamps.

17. Putting your head in the freezer to see what being cryogenically frozen feels like.

18. Writing a pen pal in prison.

19. Learning to play the spoons.

20. Flossing (courtesy of Eric Gerhardt, who I am sure flosses daily).

Today ONLY! Watch THIS movie instead.

2010-04-20T09:08:00.001-07:00

http://www.christiancinema.com/lordsaveus/

I saw "Lord, Save Us From Your Followers" when I was in seminary because Dr. Paul Metzger, one of my professors, was in it.

I'll tell you the truth, for the first twenty minutes or more, I thought it was pretty hokey. And then all of the sudden, it got fascinating.

Honestly, whether you consider yourself a Christian or not, watch this movie. It's free online, and I would love to hear what you think

See this movie.

2010-04-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

The truth is, most of you won't. That's fine--in fact, it's probably good.

A friend once said, "Heather's favorite movies are movies where nothing happens." It's not completely true, but it is close. I love movies where lots of internal stuff happens, while not much else does. Hence, "My Effortless Brilliance".

I got this movie from Netflix, and the best synopsis and probably most common review came from another Netflix user (MC51658, in case you want to get legal about it):

This movie is about a self-absorbed writer who's only friend has confronted him with the fact that he's a total jerk. This happens in the first 5 minutes and then the remainder of the film involves his attempts to prove he can indeed be a friend. He could have just apologized it would have been a 6 minute short... instead there is another hour of frolicking in the woods and meaningless dialog.

That's actually exactly what happens in the movie, and my only sticking points are that a) The dialog isn't pointless and b) it could have indeed been a short, but that would have been pointless.

There's a grand total of four people in the movie, and the dialog is entirely improvised. Those two points alone are enough to make me fall in love with the movie, but here's the really great things about it.

The dialog, being improvised, is so banal it sounds like everyone I know. And at times, it made me really frustrated. In a scene where the writer is being interviewed, the interviewer says the word "Yay" something like eight times ("Oh, you will? Ok, yay. Yeah, good. Yay."). This made me want to pull my own hair out, but I also know for a fact that I and many of my friends overuse the word. Do we think we're ten?

The writer (Sean Nelson) has hair inspired by "Eraserhead". See?

(For the record, I have never seen "Eraserhead". The only David Lynch movie I have ever seen is "The Straight Story", because it was the only David Lynch movie I was sure wouldn't terrify me.)

The writer's friend is played by a guy named Basil Harris, who apparently hasn't made any other movies I've ever heard of. This is really too bad, because not only is he really good, he's also ADORABLE. The other sad thing about him not being in anything of note (IMDB,com tells me he's been in nine movies or tv shows, but...) is that it's nearly impossible to find a picture of him. And he's cute. In the movie, he lives way out in the middle of the woods in eastern Washington, and wears plaid, and has a beard, and chops wood, and it's almost exactly like my dream vacation with Brian Williams.

Here's the thing about guys with beards. If I meet someone who's cleanshaven, and he wants to grow a beard, great. Go do it. But if my first encounter with someone includes their facial hair, and then when I see them next the beard is gone, I feel like I'm seeing them naked. I want to hand them a tiny shirt to cover their chin and tell them to have some self respect.

That's what trying to find a picture of Basil Harris was like. He needs the beard. Otherwise, he's this kind of gawky-looking redhead. The best I can do for you all is the movie poster:

The rest you'll have to imagine. But the image above does capture the movie well--it's two friends trying, to little success, to reclaim the friendship they had, and I think it's excellent. If the movie were about two women, chances are both would cry, and hug, and confess that each of them had been awful and that they loved each other so much, once they had confessed that each thought the other was a bitch. But, thankfully, men don't tend to work that way.

See this movie, please. It's slow, it's quiet, and the characters will almost certainly annoy you at some point. But you might love it.

"It's a soap opera and MacGyver and The Twilight Zone."

2010-04-07T15:12:00.000-07:00

So, five years behind everyone else, I am catching up on LOST. I got pulled in and stayed pulled in precisely because I realized that the people behind the show, somewhere around the end of season two, just decided that, since they had a hit show on their hands, they'd see just how crazy they could make everything. And when the primary goal of a show is to be as whacked out as possible, a viewer can either get mad and find something more constructive to do with his time, or she can embrace the crazy, laugh her head off, and say, "Wha...???" at least twice an episode.

I have chosen the latter.

Now, to be fair, I have only watched the first three episodes of the current season. And you can't catch up because Hulu.com and ABC.com, the legal sites where you can stream episodes, have decided to make only the last five available at a time, which puts me in a "Grumble grumble don't make me responsible to the constraints of time structure grumble grumble" space.

But, the reason I still watch the show can be best expressed in how I explained it to a friend the other day (it has been mildly enhanced). Starting at the end of season six, episode 3 (and yes, there are huge gaps. I'm not an encyclopedia. Deal.)

YES, THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS. THEY'RE TERRIBLY DONE, BUT THEY'RE SPOILERS.
If you haven't watched Season 6, episode 3, don't get mad at me if you keep reading.

"So, they discovered Claire, who's gone all mountain-woman crazy, and they thought maybe she was gone for good because she abandoned Aaron, her baby, and went off with Jack's dad, who was dead when they got to the island but his body fell out of the coffin in the plane crash and then he just started appearing places, and it turns out that Claire and Jack, who is a surgeon and an alcoholic, are half-brother and -sister, but I don't think Claire knows that yet, but anyway, she's hanging out with her dead dad and making weird faces, which is how you know she's crazy, and the dad is probably evil because it turns out there's this smoke monster on the island that is this big storm of black smoke and lightning and it kills people, but it also can, like, inhabit dead bodies, because John Locke also died, and he was one of the original people on the plane, and before the crash he was paralyzed because he had this crazy dad who stole one of his kidneys and then shoved him out of an eighth-story window, but when he got to the island he could walk again because the island is MAGIC but then a bunch of stuff happened and then he learned that he had to die as a sacrifice for the other island people, because some got off the island but a whole bunch didn't, and so HE returned to the island in a coffin just like Jack's dad but then the second plane crashed too and all of the sudden there's a dead John on the beach and a live John looking crazy-eyed and going into this place called the temple, and whenever he disappears the smoke monster shows up, SO, LOGICALLY, the smoke monster inhabits newly dead bodies and makes them evil."

All of this, for those of you not watching, followed a hydrogen bomb explosion which was purposefully set off in the hopes of blowing everyone on the island back in time, so that they would never get on the original plane in the first place.

Admit it, you kind of want to watch the show now, right? It's ok. Your secret's safe with me.

Mustaches for (almost) everyone!

2010-04-05T15:59:00.000-07:00

This is Band of Horses. Apparently the guy on our far left didn't get the memo.

Parenthetically...

(This photo is courtesy www.stereogum.com, which you've hopefully heard of. If you haven't, you should. Not only do they offer tribute albums for "Automatic for the People", "Post" and "OK Computer", they also have a hilarious ongoing "Hunt for the Worst Movie of All Time".)

(I really like Band of Horses, even though both of their previous albums took quite a while to grow on me, and for a while they were one of those bands I couldn't listen to without getting weepy and dark, due to a connection with a certain someone. All this to say I will give the new stuff time to grow on me as well.)

(A blog post of substance will be here soon. Currently brewing, Good Friday and Luke 7, and a defense of David Bazan. Soon. Promise. Don't sit on your hands, friends.)

This movie gave me way too much to say.

2010-03-24T21:27:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching the movie "Julie & Julia", after about a hundred recommendations from friends and loved ones ("It'll make you want to write a book!" "It'll make you want to eat a stick of butter!" "It'll make you want to move in with Meryl Streep and copy everything she does!"), and it is indeed very good, and if you haven't seen it yet, you should, even if you're a movie snob like me who usually stays away from popular films that aren't focused on death or post-apocalyptic slow-moving doom.

We all know that sometimes we read into things. In every experience, be it a painting, a hike, a conversation, or anything, someone can take from it a lesson or a message that may never have been the creator's original intent. And as I watched this movie, I kept seeing how much of both of these women's lives were, in a sense, about starts and stops.

Julia Child married late, faced opposition and negativity when she first entered cooking school, and had her landmark cookbook delayed and delayed and then rejected. By the time it was published, she was nearly 50 years old.

Julie Powell, the movie's other protagonist, is about to turn 30 before she launches the blog, and though she is happily married, she has an unfulfilling job and a less-than-ideal apartment, and is constantly comparing herself to her ridiculously successful friends.

I don't have friends who are senior vice presidents, and none of my friends have personal assistants (although, if they're hiring...). But for the most part, my friends and I are all circling that dreaded 30... some of us closer in than others. And for the most part, I think they would all agree that the age of 30 is not what it was when our parents reached it. Whether it's the new 20 or not... that's another blog.

I do know that many of my friends, as they approach and surpass the 30 mark, feel an immense pressure from any number of sources. Lord knows we all can pressure ourselves enough as it is, minds racing with "what if"' scenarios until fear renders us virtually catatonic. We can give it any number of names or attachments (career, spouse, house, kids), but it's basically a pressure for successful stability. I have seen so many friends (and even myself at times) marching through each year as though there is a gun to their heads, so great is the pressure, and what could rob someone of more joy?

I don't mean to paint Julia Child as a saint (as the Julie of the movie does), but seeing her story, however fictionalized, it reminded me that there really is no point of no return. Jobs come and go or stay, relationships fade, explode or remain, and even the people we count on as our basic support systems will disappear or let us down.

But!

There is hope.

It sounds cliche' to use the "everything is an opportunity" bit for the millionth time, but really, it's true. There won't ever be a time in my life, regardless of how old I get, when every door is closed forever. Things will almost certainly not work out as I had envisioned them (they already haven't, on a small scale), but they will eventually work out. The right things will come at the right time, and who's to say when that time will be? People publish novels (or cookbooks) after years of waiting and strings of bizarre jobs. People find love at every point in life. People discover redemption in the most unlikely of places and at the most unlikely of times.

I know this is true for me, and I'm going to venture to say that it's true for you.

A friend of mine, who is just past thirty, single, and contemplating some new changes in her life, said recently (and this is a very loose quote, so be nice to me, and her), "You know, it's possible that I could be 40 and single, or that life won't play out as I would like, but I know that I can take today for what it is, and say, 'Today, I have what I need, and today I am loved'. And if you can say that every day, then no matter what, you're doing pretty well."

And so, we don't sit on our hands and lament. We wake in the morning, we pursue what we love in at least small ways, and then we do what's next, not knowing what exactly will come of it. But today, you and I have what we need, and you and I are loved. And believe it or not, that's a stable place to be.

Yes, Ireland is exactly like this.

2010-03-17T22:19:00.001-07:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

My Friday gift to you.

2010-03-05T11:55:00.000-08:00

"I like that. It makes me sound like a blanket."

2010-03-04T13:47:00.000-08:00

First things first: Mom is home from the hospital as of Sunday afternoon, and is recuperating well (I think--I left for Portland Monday afternoon). She'll be off work until April, and is apparently honing her MarioKart Wii skills in the meantime.

While she was in the hospital, I stayed at my parents' house with my dad and sister. I don't know that I was ever much functional help, but I did hang around and allow myself to be repeatedly defeated in Wii Tennis matches. I also subjected my dad to American Idol and all the horrors therein, but he made me watch spooky movies.

In the interest of being fair, we watched Zombieland, Orphan and The Mist, and only one of those was actually spooky, since Zombieland was a comedy, and Orphan is completely, deliciously ridiculous. This is a spoiler, but I have to tell you, the twist to Orphan was too crazy not to share. The Bulgarian little girl that Peter Saaaaaaaaaaaarsgard and Vera Farmagia (her name always makes me think of cheese) have adopted is not a child at all, but rather a psychopathic 33-year old woman with a pituitary-gland disorder.

That, my friends, is a twist.

Portland is sunny and gorgeous today, and I don't know how to handle it. It's lovely, indeed, but it's also March, and I'm not quite ready to give up my sweater-wearing and rain-dodging yet.

I'm trying to fall back into my normal routine, whatever it may be, and even though I don't entirely know what I'm doing, it's nice to feel like life is moving again. At this point, I'm still not sure if the movement is forward or just circular, as it has felt for the last few months. January and February seemed to be spent on pause, waiting for things to normalize again. So, the play button has been pressed, and I am trying to spark myself to better things.

Watch this space for updates.

Surgery update, part 2

2010-02-26T18:09:00.000-08:00

Hi again, friends.

Mom is still in the hospital--has been here since February 18--and the doctor is saying she should be home by the end of the weekend. If you have been following my Facebook or Twitter account (www.twitter.com/ohmylands), you know that it has been an up-and-down adventure so far. There have been a couple really tough days, and several very good days.

At this point, Mom is doing well. The doctor is happy with the way she is progressing, and she's finally able to eat some simple foods for the first time in a week and a half. I appreciate all the people who have called her and sent her cards, and all the friends who have been checking in on me as well. Thanks again for your love and suppport.

Surgery update

2010-02-19T12:12:00.000-08:00

Hi friends. My mom had her surgery yesterday, and I'm happy to report that the doctor said it all went very well. She will be in the hospital well into next week, but we will be playing things by ear each day.

She didn't sleep last night--I was here at the hospital with her overnight. And today, she is having a lot of pain. She's not seeing visitors right now as a result. but the whole family appreciates your prayers and support.

I am relying mainly on Twitter and Facebook to get my updates out. Our internet access is limited right now, so those are the best way to stay updated.

Thanks again for being a part of this journey with us.

"Can I order bacon with it?"

2010-02-16T14:52:00.000-08:00

It's been another long hiatus for me, and I am heading into what will probably be another one. I'm realizing that, in a sense, this blog really does mirror my life. There are times where I am present and intentional and funny and on top of everything, and then... there's February.

In blog- and real-life-form, I have disappeared for two weeks or more at a time. I am sure there are a couple friends who are certain I am avoiding them; each time they contact me I am out of town, on my way out of town, or otherwise entangled. If you're one of those friends, here's two things you need to know: 1) I'm not avoiding you and 2) you're not alone.

Also in blog- and real-life, there are the things I want to talk about and can't. There's the Haiti post I have sat down to write multiple times and have given up because I am crying too hard to type. Someday, it'll be written. Someday when I'm braver.

My mom is going back into the hospital this week, hopefully for the last time. So I'll be away again for a while. Prayers are, as always, appreciated, if you're the type. I'll be abandoning my family in their time of need on Monday, however, because The Magnetic Fields are playing at the Aladdin. Here's The Magnetic Fields, unclassifiable as they may be:

Also, in a not-exactly-unhealthy-but-probably-unwise bid for stress management, I have bought a ridiculous amount of music in the last month. And while multiple things have cycled through the car cd player, Metric's "Fantasies" seems to have taken up residence officially. The others will have to find somewhere else to be, I suppose. Below, because I don't know how to post a a simple audio track, is another cheesy still YouTube video of my favorite track:

In closing, I would like to point out that the title of today's blog was spoken to me by two separate people this week. They make terrible vegetarians.

"How did I get here?"

2010-01-31T20:10:00.000-08:00

January will be over in a matter of hours. I will be a year older in a matter of days (Technically, I'll only be a couple days older, but you know, it's what we say.).

The start of 2010 has been an odd one. I refuse to call it difficult, or rocky, or anything like that. But it has been odd.

My mom just finished another week in the hospital, and it was a week of questions and half-answers and retractions and revisions, and for the most part, it was a lot of unsettledness. Thankfully, she is once again at home, and things seem to be figured out. Fingers crossed, etc.

At the start of last week, I got the idea in my head that what I needed in my life was Talking Heads. I was certain that there was a connection to be easily made there, in the current unsettledness in me and the twitchy, generally agitated sounds of the music. And every time I thought of it, there would be a Talking Heads song on the radio, or in the store, or wherever I happened to be, almost immediately. This tends to happen to me quite a bit--I think, "Wow, it'd be great to hear ____________ right now," and within 15 minutes, they appear.

You would think that would be enough, but this is the other thing that happens to my brain: When I get a need for a particular band in my head, nothing else will satiate the need, no matter how close, how brilliant, how compelling Band B may be. And so despite the songs here and there, I found myself heading to Music Millennium to put some lotion on the itch. I walked out with some Talking Heads and the new Magnetic Fields, and I feel so much better.

I also feel like a total nerd, especially after realizing as I drove away that almost exactly two years ago, I was in Everyday Music on Sandy with some friends (another fine local establishment; let's hear it for Portland music shops!), and I bought what was the new Magnetic Fields album at the time ("Distortion", if you're curious), and the second Band of Horses cd. I don't know how or why I remember these details, but at least I'm somewhat consistent.

So, January's been odd. And 2010 has not settled into a groove as yet. But apparently, for me, nothing says "Happy early birthday, self!" like being able to drive down Burnside singing "Psycho Killer". Charming, isn't it?

1 Corinthians 13:12

2010-01-16T00:20:00.000-08:00

Hospitals are intensely lonely places. They're buildings crammed full of isolation, and while hospitals can also bring life in and give life back, when you're the one who is sick and in pain, it's unlikely you'll be thinking of the birth day celebrations happening down another corridor.

My mom was in the hospital last week, and thank God, she's home now and recovering. But for eight days she was stuck in a bed, and I knew that if I felt alone walking the halls after visiting her, the loneliness must have been amplified tenfold for her. I spent her first night with her, not-sleeping in a chair and listening to a tv that was too low to hear but impossible to turn off, and I had a lot of time to think.

The day my mom went into the hospital, I had planned originally to write a delayed "2009 in retrospect" post. I hadn't been here in a while, an entire holiday season and new year had passed, and it was time to emerge again.

On good days, 1 Corinthians 13:12 came readily to mind, and I would hear probably only the only King James Version translation I have ever used: "For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face..."

Revelations 21:5, in my Heather paraphrase, would pop in too. I would open my eyes, open my front door, and all was new: new year, new life, new heart, new hope.

On bad days, those words might come to mind in a whisper, but I would also be reminded of the note I wrote to a friend, calling 2009 a "shockingly difficult year". And it was. The latter half of the year in particular was, for me, filled with confusion, anger and fear.

There were too many sleepless nights to keep count of. I found myself withdrawing often, grasping at occasional straws, and I made some choices I soon regretted. I medicated a broken heart in both healthy and unhealthy ways. And I found my heart re-broken and broken again, until I didn't even know who or what was doing the breaking. I know it sounds dramatic. And if I say that at times I felt as if I was being torn limb from limb and then held under water, I know that would be hyperbolic, but it certainly didn't feel that way.

But then. Now, then. In one of my seminary classes a professor loved to point out whenever the phrase "now then" was used in the biblical text. It signified a shift, a sign that some stage had ended, and something new was on its way. So...now then.

I'm not sure if it was the holidays or the hospital or a combination of a thousand conversations, but I started to see, again and again, that in the midst of the pain and the fear and the darkness, there had been all along these glimpses of grace. Some were tiny lights, flickers of friends stopping by, and some have been raging fires, times when I have been rescued. All in one year.

And my life is always this way. Grace is always there, trailing behind or paving the road ahead. As graduation from seminary loomed, I told a group of professors and students I felt as though I was looking out onto an empty horizon. No land, no other boats. It was an image, for me, that went beyond alone-ness, into something else I was afraid to try to name.

And lately, because of those glances and long hard stares at grace, the image has changed. There may still be an empty horizon, but I now realize that staring straight ahead has caused me to miss the people who have stood beside me on the shore. Now, I look to my right and my left, and I am overwhelmed, not with the company I keep, but the company who keeps me. I am supported and loved and uplifted and encouraged in ways I can't describe and in ways I am sure I don't even know. But I don't stand on an empty beach, and the ocean ahead of me keeps a steady rhythm.

I have no doubt that in some sense, 2010 will be a shockingly difficult year, but I don't believe that will keep it from being good as well. I don't do new year's resolutions, but I know that this year I will continue to heal, I will do my best to be honest and true, and I will keep both eyes open wide for grace along the way. I know I'll find it.

"I have four dollars."

2009-12-17T18:13:00.000-08:00

I have been avoiding writing this blog for several days now. I'm not sure why, but I think it hits a nerve in me that makes me uncomfortable with my own position, and so I avoid it.

The other day, I had just parked at Target. As I turned away from my car, a man approached me, speaking as he walked. He looked a little worn, but not necessarily homeless. He said that he and his wife had come from Madras, had car trouble, and were now stuck in Portland. I struggled to follow his story as it grew, details being added as he continued. His wife's mother was on her way to Portland, he said. They had a cat with them. They had tried all the shelters, and they were full (I knew this was true--this was the deepest day of last week's cold snap). His wife was pregnant.

He continued to talk, said he had asked for help from the police, who had given him a copy of the Rose City Resource. Eventually, he said that his wife was at the Portland Hostel (he had a brochure in his hand) but that they needed money to pay for the room. I knew that the question was coming, and I knew I had some singles in my purse, and I knew I couldn't lie to him.

"I have four dollars," I said.

"Well, that'll make a big difference," he said. I handed him the money, he told me to have a blessed day, and walked on through the parking lot. Other people made a wide path away from him when he made eye contact. I saw a friend shortly after, and she had a lot of questions. "Why did they bring a cat? How do you know he actually went to the hostel?" I only had one answer for her.

"I don't know," I said, "but I don't think it's my job to know."

Here's what I do know: I could have said "Look, buddy, things are tough all over. I don't have a job right now, and it's just not happening," and few people would have blamed me. I also know that things are true. I rarely have cash on me--I often get asked for money, and have to say honestly I can't help someone. And that four dollars, by God's grace, was not standing between me and having heat or lights in my home. It was not my only chance to eat for the day, and it was not making any difference in me having a roof over my head for the night. The truth is that those four dollars would have almost certainly gone toward a coffee, and little else. And I am not called to be anyone's interrogator.

It's possible that my four dollars bought him a bottle, bought him drugs. It's possible. It's also possible that he returned to the Portland Hostel that night with a handful of one dollar bills, and that he and his family had a place to stay for the evening. I hope that was the outcome, but I will probably never know.

Was it a waste on my part? I don't think so. Hopefully, if nothing else, I and some other people listened to his story rather than avoid him, and that he experienced some small kindnesses in the course of the cold day.

"Apostrophes are excellent at hiding in caves."

2009-11-19T15:55:00.000-08:00

I'm a little behind the buzz, but Oprah had Jenna Jameson on her show the other day. Whitney Matheson, who is the pop culture critic for USA Today (Hello, fantasy job. Nice to meet you.), also has a Twitter account, @popcandy. And the day before the broadcast, Matheson said the following:

"Oprah is interviewing Jenna Jameson tomorrow (?!). Man, I can't wait to hear Jenna's advice on how to live your best life."

It got me thinking. For the record, I didn't watch the Oprah episode, and my knowledge of Jenna Jameson is strictly limited to magazine articles (real ones, with words). But I do know that she's an extremely savvy woman, and she has basically built herself an empire. She even has instructional videos. And now she's on Oprah's couch, which is essentially a seal of approval from the most powerful voice in world culture. In a sense, Jameson's become the porn star next door.

I am not here to judge Jameson's actions, to critique her moral position, or to spark a debate on the evils or benefits of the porn industry. I'm here talking about Oprah and a porn star because I think Whitney Matheson's simple little tweet was actually quite profound.

Oprah is all about living your best life. She's also had Joel Osteen on her show more than once, and has embraced his extra-positive view of living the best life possible. And Osteen's latest book, It's Your Time, also just came out.

Matthew Paul Turner has a blog I follow, Jesus Needs New PR, and he's always full of snarky comments for almost everybody. He posted about It's Your Time, and posted the text from the book jacket, with his own comments interspersed. I have taken them out, but reposted it. I'm going to let the text speak for itself.

For legality's sake, I'll make it clear that the following is the property of Osteen's publisher, Simon & Schuster. Any grammatical or spelling mistakes are typos, and should be blamed entirely on me.

Get your hopes up. Raise your expectations. Your best days are in front of you. In challenging times, it may be hard to see better days ahead. You may feel as though your struggles will never end, that things won't ever turn around for you. This is exactly the moment to put your faith into action and expect God's blessings. It's your time to declare your faith, to look for God's favor, and to give control of your life to Him so that you can find fulfillment in His plans for you!

It's your time to believe.

It's not easy to always be optimistic. Life can be difficult and in hard economic times it's not just your finances that suffer. Your relationships can be strained. Your health can be stressed. When one part of your life after another takes a bad turn, you can feel like there is no end in sight, no way out. The truth is maybe you don't have an answer. But God does! Maybe you don't have the strength. But God does!

It's your time for favor.

In It's Your Time, best-selling author Joel Osteen, pastor of the nation's largest church, offers the inspirational truth that no matter where you stand in life, you are never alone. He reminds you also that the bigger your burden, the greater your blessings to come. You may have neglected God, but He has not abandoned you. He has already released good things into your future. As long as you're breathing, you can still reclaim His favor by renewing your faith and accepting His plans for you.

It's your time for restoration.

In these pages, Joel offers assurances that God does not want you to merely survive challenging times, He wants you to thrive. When you give your life over to Him, God will send new opportunities your way so that you can soar to new heights of fulfillment. History has shown that the most difficult times can serve as a catalyst for creativity, innovation and accomplishment. If you hold onto your faith, ask for God's favor, and don't give in to depression or discouragement, you will emerge not bitter but better, not a victim but a victor.

It's your time to trust.

God is already working in your life to arrange the right people, the right skills and the right opportunities to give you the tools you need to fulfill and exceed your dreams. Drawing from Joel's experience and those of people around the world, It's Your Time offers messages of faith, hope and strength to help you rise above any circumstance so that you can fulfill God's best plan for your life.

It's your time to stretch.

Joel has filled this book with bold new prayers, inspiring stories and practical tools for moving forward in faith. You will find inspiration from others who have overcome adversity and achieved their dreams. You will find proven methods for not just picking up the pieces but for building a new life better than you'd imagined. The hopeful messages and warm encouragements in this book will push you to expand your horizons beyond what you thought you were capable of doing so that you might go even farther than you'd ever dreamed of going.

It's your time!

I hope somebody can understand where I'm going. Oprah has adopted a "whatever works" policy that she is sharing, quite literally, the world over. Whatever gives you your best life! If it's God, great. If it's sex, great. If it's food...sorta great. If nothing else, you living your best life now will keep Oprah in business as she shills for every new diet fad and every new mildly attractive doctor she meets.

But ultimately, Oprah's message is that it's all about you. It's all about your pleasures, your satisfaction, and your fulfillment. And no wonder both Jameson and Olsteen make great Oprah guests--their messages are exactly the same.

Thinking about these two made me think about how often I have misrepresented God and the gospel, how often I have made it sound like something simple, happy and easy. The truth is that my relationship with God brings me joy, but it is far from easy. It has been an experience of letting go of myself and releasing my dreams, not of finding fulfillment in them, as Osteen supposes.

This doesn't mean that I don't have dreams or hopes--it means that I have a new hope, one that isn't based on my success or failure, or my ability to perform. It's based in allowing myself to be changed, and to be transformed, little by little, into who I am and will be. I understand that part of that will mean failure, and part of that will mean continually allowing my dreams to change and re-emerge, rather than demanding that they succeed and expand. It means that I won't always be satisfied in other people, and that I won't be able to make them react and respond how I want, no matter how many videos I watch or inspirational prayers I pray.

Jenna Jameson, Joel Osteen and Oprah Winfrey are not the enemy. I am just like them, and at heart, I want the same things they're offering. I want what I want, even as that changes day to day. The real enemy can wear lots of names (greed, selfishness, pride), but it's always hard to define.

What do you see as the enemy? What's the best way to not be taken over by it?

This is probably sacrilege.

2009-11-15T00:12:00.000-08:00

When I signed into Blogger tonight, it told me I had 12 followers.

Being the seminary grad that I am, my first thought was, "Ooh, just like Jesus!"

No lightning bolts as of yet. Will keep you posted.

I gotta write things down sooner, because you guys are funny.

2009-11-10T15:06:00.000-08:00

A real blog soon, but first, more funny bathroom signs!

Matt sent this to me from Fire on the Mountain, with the caption: "It's like the one on your blog...except this one is giving birth."

Stay classy, Planet Earth.

"Actually, I prefer your midsection."

2009-11-03T23:44:00.000-08:00

Christina and I watched the movie "Hidden Secrets" tonight. Just as I had feared, this "Christian version of 'The Big Chill'" was a perfect example of everything that tends to go wrong in "Christian" movies.

The editing. The music. The script. The pacing. The cheesy wordless montages. It was all there. But the worst part was, as Christina and I discussed after finishing the film, the characters were like cardboard cutouts rather than real people.

It tried to do what other Christian movies have failed to do. It tried to present non-Christians in a positive light and some Christians in a negative light. But this was done with such extreme, broad strokes that it was caricature from the outset.

It also tried to be a movie that, according to the behind the scenes featurette that we, of course, watched, "dealt with the issues". And because this is a Christian movie, those issues were abortion, homosexuality, skepticism, and for one or two scenes, stem-cell research.

It troubles me that this is the best Christians can come up with, because I know it's not true. The fact is that there are Christians making movies, and making good movies, but they choose not to put the Christian stamp of approval on it, and I don't blame them. Placing a Christian label on your film puts you in league with "Hidden Secrets", "Left Behind" and "The Omega Code". I wouldn't want that for my film.

What about you? Have you seen a "Christian" film that was done well? How have you seen Christianity portrayed in film?

Sorry, today's been quiet.

2009-11-02T19:41:00.000-08:00

Here are the big discoveries of today:

I learned that I can STILL access my old Yahoo email account, and when I did that, it gave me access to this: http://inwalksgrace.livejournal.com/

I started using LiveJournal when I was in Ireland the first time, and used it off and on. As of today, I had not signed in for 95 weeks, though, so...

I've read through the oldest couple months of entries, and it's funny. Some things are different, and others... you just realize you are how you are.

For years, Robin has told me that the day we first met one another, we went to Shari's, and for years, I have claimed no memory of this. And then, I found this:

"Friday i went out with raina, mandee and robin to shari's. robin is a complete spaz--we're so alike, i don't know why we're not twins. we had fun, she spilled ice cream on herself, it was good times all around"

I love that girl. And I was her maid of honor. Amazing.

Tomorrow, Christina and I are watching this: http://www.hiddensecrets-themovie.com/ Netflix billed it as "A Christian version of 'The Big Chill'. I think there will be giggling.

Also, I stopped writing at midnight last night to get my NaNoWriMo count for the day, and then I wrote a little more. I have not touched it since. The count at this moment is 2,058, and yes, I will write tonight, and take another count at midnight. Only 47, 842 words to go!

"You took the toilet paper out of your hair."

2009-11-01T23:01:00.000-08:00

Oh my, my friends. Another weekend very nearly done, and here is what I did:

*Watched "Medicine for Melancholy", which was neither as excellent as I hoped it would be, nor as disastrous as it certainly could have been. It may or may not come up again in the future.

*Remembered terribly late that November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), decided to take the "Why the heck not" approach and do it, or more aptly, attempt it.

*Watched "District 9" on the big screen. Didn't throw up or pass out, though I thought about doing both. Comments are likely to appear in a future blog.

* "Built" my own Halloween costume. Being neither crafty nor particularly handy, the "Basket Case" costume took a lot more effort and elbow grease than I had originally imagined.

*Attended a Halloween party with friends old and new, and at one point glanced around the room and thought, "These are some good people right here." It was nice.

*Began NaNoWriMo right around the time of the DST switch. Just over 600 words in half an hour. Mostly dialogue, like the rest of my life.

*Discovered an extensive NaNoWriMo community via Twitter and the official site, both in Portland proper and worldwide. It's an engaging crowd.

*Attended Emmaus after a one-week absence, and rediscovered my unreasonable love for the family there. Cole also rocked it, in a message that will be shared here soon.

*Discovered that November is also National Blog Posting Month, one post a day for 30 days. May attempt it, may not. Blogs may begin to look like this.

Life's alright. How are you?

"Maybe you should have a beer beforehand."

2009-10-28T14:30:00.000-07:00

Here's a two-part confession: I am terrible at doing a whole lot of stuff. This probably doesn't surprise anyone. Everybody's terrible at something. I know people who are terrible at being musical, people who are terrible at performing household repairs, people who are terrible at being even slightly normal around other humans.

I'm really terrible at lots of things, but one thing I'm especially bad at is self-promotion. It might seem counterintuitive, being that I have this blog and all. A friend told me the other day that blogs are largely narcissistic, which sort of made the compliments on my talents as a blogger from others sting in retrospect. And while I see my friend's point, I am choosing to disagree, for my own sake. I don't think he was talking about this blog specifically, but more the ugly view of blogger culture, the idea that simple people sitting at home can decide that people are expectantly for the next morsel of brilliance that will fall from their table.

One of the things that I'm discovering in new ways consistently is that (confession part two) I'm really very good at a lot of things. It doesn't even have to do with talent--there are just some things I can do very well. This is hard for me to admit, because I am used to downplaying things so much. It's hardly as if I am positioning myself as a wallflower, seldom seen and never heard. But I don't talk about my skills or abilities as anything unique.

This came into sharp focus last night, when a friend offered to go over my resume (two friends, actually). Having read my resume, my friend then asked me to talk about each position listed. And in each case, what I spoke was more detailed and more impactful than what I had listed and sent out to who even knows how many employers.

Obviously, you can't ramble on aimlessly on a resume, and so I am in the process of trying to rework our discussion last night into some kind of appropriate and proactive language. But here's the ridiculous part: sitting in this coffeeshop, when I retype lines on the resume with this new, stronger language, I can actually feel myself blushing as I type. That's pretty bad, right? I mean, wow.

I don't really know how to break out of this. I'm a pretty bold and confident woman in person, and even in my writing. But this whole idea of trying to tell someone, "Your organization needs me, and here's why," makes me feel like I have been dropped into a foreign country without so much as a name.

On the other hand, writing rarely makes me blush. It has at times, but not often. That might mean, as some have said, that I'm not being honest enough. But I don't feel that this blog is narcissistic, and I hope it never becomes anything close. I hope that it's clear that I'm just trying to figure things out the best I know how, and the best way I know how is by writing. I hope it's clear that writing make me feel more awake and somehow lighter, even when the topic is heavy. And I know that I'm no good in isolation. Too much time on my own just makes me smaller and more confused.

But I know people manage this every day. They present themselves as the talented, useful, amazing people that they are, they stay honest, and no one looks at them and thinks that they live on some kind of pedestal. So how do you all do it? What works for you? Psyching yourself out in the mirror? Pretending that you're Rocky going into a fight? Managing somehow, without blushing or cracking a smile, to tell someone their house is on fire and you're the only one with water? Please share, really. I'm interested.

"Fitzcarrrwhat'sgoingon?"

2009-10-23T13:31:00.000-07:00

Much like the blog and everything else, I signed up for Netflix last week, eons after everyone else did. I tried to act like I was taking the moral high ground, supporting local business (which I was, since I love Movie Madness) but I was also repeatedly paying late fees and spending gas money etc. So I stared at the free month of Netflix (thanks, Gabe & Robin, by the way), and decided finally to give in. And newsflash...

If you like movies, Netflix is crack. Seriously. It's insane. So let's say, in non-Netflix life, you're standing in Movie Madness and you want to bring a movie home. There are at least five that are in your face and interesting, but you are not a slug and therefore cannot bring five movies home at a time.

But Netflix gives you a queue, and you can add things endlessly! They're popping up to your house one at a time, so you may see a movie and say, "You know what, I may want to see that movie sometime in the next seven months. Let's stick it on the queue." And there it sits, waiting, and not at all making you feel like a slug.

Netflix also has this thing where you can find your friends who are on Netflix, and you can see what's on their queue and what they like, and you can compare tastes and have a big Netflix party. But see, the thing is, I don't want any of my friends to see what I have in my queue, not because I have added anything shameful or tasteless (yet), but moreso because my queue is insanely long and the breadth of it basically proves that not only could I swap trivia facts with that dorky video store employee who watches and knows everything, but actually, secretly, I am him, and always have been.

The thing Netflix famously does is they take the films in your queue, movies you've rated (I'm not telling you how many I've rated, either), and types of movies you say you like, and then they suggest things. If you're me, they suggest things you've heard of or been vaguely interested in, and this is how your queue grows to gargantuan proportions. But when you sign in, they suggest things based on mix and match categories. So today, my main screen is suggesting some "Dark Foreign Movies Featuring a Strong Female Lead", "Tortured Artist Dramas", and "Mindbending Psychological Movies". Don't I sound like a barrel of fun? Who wants to come over?

My absolute favorite though, because they take what you like plus what the typical Netflix user likes, is when they recommended that I see some "Unrequited Love Movies", such as "A Cinderella Story" and "Taxi Driver".

Seriously. Apparently anyone who loves "A Cinderella Story" will also love "Taxi Driver" and vice versa. I would love to know how many angry letters Netflix gets in a month. "Dear Netflix, How dare you suggest that we follow "The Lizzie Maguire Movie" with "GoodFellas". Have you no sense of decency?"

That would be a great department to work in. I wonder if they're hiring.