Epic Role Models

So at different points throughout my life, I've harbored a secret (or not so secret) desire to be or be just like each of these women.

Mary Poppins: who doesn't want their room clean in a finger snap? And her dress inside the painting?! Yes, please.










Any one of the four members of Point of Grace: first time since Amy Grant that I thought I might want to be a singer.










Belle: I'll always love Jasmine & Ariel too, but Belle with her books and her dreams and her stubbornness and her bangs that never stayed in place-- we were two of a kind.







Lois Lane/Teri Hatcher: mostly because of my raging crush on Clark Kent...
(except I also loved-- coveted, even!-- her haircut. THIS haircut. I know, I know. But i did.)








Kimberly/The Pink Ranger: mostly-- okay, entirely-- because of my raging crush on the green/white/red ranger...










Eponine: tragic heroine-ism at its purest and finest.



















Mara Jade: I know, I'm epically nerdy. But she was a former Imperial assassin and a total badass. And she ended up marrying Luke Skywalker, which sounded like a grand idea when I was 14.













Jennifer Knapp: I think I covered almost every song on her Kansas cd-- for one youth group function or another.








Anastasia: orphaned princess (with amazing red hair) goes on adventure and marries hot kitchen boy who's guts she used to hate... still my favorite kind of storyline. :)








Jean Grey: I know she's not the real or original Dr. Grey-- but she's who made me want to be her.











Mimi Marquez: I'd actually rather NOT be her... just would like to portray her on stage. :)








Arwen Undomiel: annnnnnnd I still want to be her. I still try to be her.
(and this scene is my favorite shot of her-- ever.)














I left a few out... maybe there'll be a volume two.

But it's only 99 cents...

You know that Verizon commercial with the chi looking boy who calls himself a "music hunter"?

I really am one of those.

I don't have a phone to capture songs when I hear them, but I do that in my head. I have been known to write down little chunks of song lyrics from movie or the radio and google them when I get home. (I first heard Feels Like Today on an episode of Smallville.) I have been known to rewind an episode of Scrubs until I can catch a good enough chunk of lyrics to google and locate the artist and song title in order to buy it on iTunes. (Hello, Jeremy Kay!)

I also love hearing people's favorite songs and having them explain why they are their favorite. I love knowing why people love the things they love. I even comb the Celebrity Playlists on iTunes to see if any of the rich and famous have something of substance to offer (I discovered Sia on Jim Carrey's playlist).

I love collecting music. It's one of the things that makes me the happiest.

So... if you want me to buy your favorite song on iTunes, message or comment me in some fashion persuasively convincing me that my life is incomplete without your tune. In other words, tell me why YOU can't live without it. And if I buy it and agree with you-- I'll let you know, AND be forever in your gratitude. :)

Homage

But really, honestly, not one inspired by *sheer vanity.

Rather compiled in a state of amazed gratefulness for his consistent, magnificent use of the remarkable gift God has given him.

I present to you, my singer/songwriter/surfer hero.














*that last picture had a little bit to do with vanity.

Hips Don't Lie?

"If the world was crazy, you know what I'd eat?
A big slice of soup and a whole quart of meat,
A lemonade sandwich, and then I might try
Some roasted ice cream or a bicycle pie,
A nice notebook salad, an underwear roast,
An omelet of hats and some crisp cardboard toast,
A thick malted milk made from pencils and daisies,
And that's what I'd eat if the world was crazy..."
-Shel Silverstein

I'm thinkin I better be on the lookout for that lemonade sandwich... because in addition to all the really crazy things going on in the world today, I was told today, by someone who owns a modeling and talent agency* that if I want to do runway work, I'm probably gonna need to LOSE A LITTLE WEIGHT IN MY HIPS.

To which I (internally) responded "You're kidding, right? Do you know how much steak & chocolate cake I've had to eat to even get THESE?! Or have you not seen me enough to notice that I'm a half-black woman fully entitled to whatever curves I choose/am able to maintain?!?!"

I mean, she didn't say it disdainfully, she's a nice woman. And she's been in the business a long time, so I guess she would know...

But... have you SEEN the skinniness that is me?! Because I have. For 23 years now. And I'm perfectly happy with my weight AND my hard-earned little hips, and have no desire to ever appear malnourished or skeletal. Hence my intense but healthily moderated devotion to beef and cookies.

Man... good thing I don't have a passion for fashion. Or body image problems, for that matter! If I did, I sure wouldn't have gone straight to Fat Mo's after taking my headshots...

Next to anything from Red Robin, that might be the best cheeseburger and fries I've ever eaten. :)

~lady j

*Yeah, I finally signed with an agency. After years of being asked about it, it seemed like a good move. I'm hoping to make some $$$ to pay off all my retarded school loans... but judging by my diet, I'm probably the worst model ever. Hehehehehehe! :)

Leave The Pieces

I have no idea what I'm about to write... you're entitled to be slightly nervous.

I am.

I found something tonight... and upon examination of said mysterious thing, it got me thinking.

There was a point in my life where I fell in love-- i mean, really fell in love-- with a man who had secrets. Kept secrets. He did it to protect me. But he also did it because he-- didn't know what else to do.

One day, not so terribly long ago, he left me. I still don't know why. I never will-- and I can live with that. But if I allow myself the masochistic luxury of pondering, I find myself unsettled. How disorienting it is, to be abandoned, left with your heart in pieces, in the center of a complete mystery.

I wonder how long God is going to have to work on my heart before I truly forgive him and let it all go.

Sometimes I'm terrified that I still love him. I wonder how strong the love of the next is going to have to be to trump my investment in this man from my past. On one hand, there's no doubt in my mind that God is bigger than my judgment lapses, bigger than my ability to hold on to the past, and bigger than my fear of placing all my trust in His divine love and wisdom.

But the feebler, human side of me longs for something microwavable, something warm and instant to slap on my heart and soul that will heal it instantly and blur the hurt of the past into some charming impressionistic piece of art that I can sell on eBay.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, my writer's soul is scowling at me, chiding me for giving voice to the most blasphemous of wishes-- "how dare you-- a woman divinely deemed a raconteur, by the loving, generous, Almighty God-- even think of wishing to muddle the greatest gift and tool of your trade you've been given-- your memory? You should be stripped of your latest tale for even entertaining the thought!"

But the Lord understands my heart. He made it after all. And of all who have witnessed the pain it has endured, He knows better than any, its weaknesses and joys and how much pressure it can withstand.

And He does not rebuke me or love me any less for wishing my pain away.

But he shows me, in small, tangible ways, that my vision is dim and that my plans are nothing compared to those He has for me.

When you were a kid, did you ever actually attempt to carve up a puzzle piece to make it fit into the big picture?

Although I know that my life sometimes has a way of looking pretty together on the outside, some part of me feels that I've secretly made a lifelong hobby/habit of sawing away on puzzle pieces with little useless, plastic safety scissors*-- too stubborn to quit or admit defeat, too defiant to be patience and wait for the right piece to present itself at the right time.

So i guess tonight... I'm finally taking a good look at my retarded scissors.

And I'm putting them down.

No guarantees that I'll never try to touch them again... but I pray I'm wickedly convicted next time I even give their wretched plastic blades a second look.



Psalm 27:14 (New Living Translation)

14 Wait patiently for the Lord.
Be brave and courageous.
Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.



*I had a very specific set of scissors in mind while writing this. Plastic yellow ones with a blue and white sticker of a monkey's face right on the joint that connects the blades. At age 4 or 5, I snipped the single lock of hair off my Carebear's head with one such pair of scissors, thinking it would grow back. It didn't. Therefore, I think it's safe to say that plastic yellow monkey scissors will always spell trouble for me.

Salute to Beardedness

Beards -on men- in winter, are sexy.

They just are. I mean, I'm a fan of handsome manly stubble anyway, but there's something incredibly old world romantic about a man growing a beard when it's cold outside. Several of my friends have begun their journeys into beardedness this month and I am very much a fan.

And so, Men of the East, I entreat you, this No Shave November-- go forth and grow beards!

"Good 'ol Rocky Top..."

So... lots of states have unofficial theme songs.

New York- "New York, New York"
Alabama- "Sweet Home Alabama"
Texas- "Deep In The Heart Of Texas"

California's been serenaded by everyone from Tupac to Phantom Planet. One of Ohio's odes got remixed by the entire cast of the Drew Carey show... there are all kinds of unofficial theme songs. They get played at football games, sometimes at concerts too.

I wasn't even aware Tennessee had an Unofficial Theme Song until I moved here and everyone knew the words but me. It was like my first ACU Chapel all over again!

Tennessee's U.T.S. is "Rocky Top"-- and because I haven't heard it my whole life-- I think it's adorable. It's so catchy! And I still find it really novel because I'm fairly sure everyone in Nashville knows the song except me.

UT (TN, not TX-- even though they're both orange and represented by big T's.) uses it as their fight song, and at any major city events, the folks in charge end up playing it over a loudspeaker. The Franklin cloggers practice dancing to it on the steps of city hall, artists cover it at concerts, and anywhere it makes an appearance, *a sing-along ensues.

And I secretly love it. :) Know why?

Eecause every time it comes on, life turns into a musical. Everyone knows the words, and everyone sings along. (Of course after visiting the dueling piano bar this weekend, I've realized that the same thing tends to happen with "Ice Ice Baby" and also any hits by Michael Jackson or Bon Jovi... but Rocky Top still has sort of a wider appeal... in TN at least.)

Anyway, I'm happy my new state at least has a catchy U.T.S.... "Music City" oughta know a thing or two about writing a hook.

*This is not the best or most complete version of the song... but it's how it usually sounds when I hear it. :)

I'm So Over It.

I hate to be negative, but blogging is about sharing your thoughts, and lately, these 5 things, when brought up in conversation, tend to invoke those four little words in bold printed above.

1. Celebrity gossip. I don't care. I especially don't care about Britney Spears. Or Paris Hilton. Or Lindsay Lohan. Maybe if we stopped stalking them and paying so much attention to them, they'd calm the hell down.

2. Red Bull. People are all jacked up on it. But it hasn't been around long enough for us to know whether overconsumption of it will really wear out your heart faster or cause your body to do other weird stuff. I just don't like it. It's just one more thing to be addicted to. (How and when did our nation get so prone to/apathetic about addictions?)

3. Reality TV Shows About Rich People. Boring. Stupid. Overdone. I'm tired of getting sucked in by them and having my life wasted.

4. Slasher Movies. They will always be gross, and they're just getting worse and worse. And it seems regular tv has to get more intense just to keep up with people who get bored when blood and brains aren't being slung everywhere. Fact is, there are real blood and brains of innocent people being slung everywhere in countries all over the world everyday... and we hardly ever even hear about it-- because the news is all caught up with the life and times and uh-ohs of the people from bullet #1. And we (as individuals) subsequently, do nothing to stop it.

5. The overabundance of hip hop music that insults my gender and my intelligence. At the moment, namely "Crank Dat Soulja Boy". If I hear that ridiculous song one more time... nothing will happen. Because it's just on, everywhere, all the time and I can't get away from it.
I hate music that doesn't mean anything. I thought that was the point of music. To convey a message, a mood. To tell a story, to give the listener something to relate to. Not just background noise. Not a soundtrack for mindless drunken gyrating. Mindless gyrating is meaningless. Superfluous words that don't mean anything are meaningless. Idleness is meaningless. Meaninglessness is meaningless.

And depressing.

You know what I hear when "Crank Dat" and everything else like it comes on?

Little boys. (And don't tell me I'm thinking too hard about this-- that's how this crap got popular to begin with. No one thinks about it.) Immature, selfish, egocentric, unfullfilled and unaffirmed little boys, telling each other (and any female who will listen) how pimp and tight and BAMF they are, because no one who loved them ever bothered to tell them that they could be more than that. That they could be heroes, role models, defenders, revolutionaries, with power and influence who gain true respect from everyone-- not just they boys in the street.

It's pathetic. Trendy hip-hop is pathetic. And I hate the stereotype that it sets, encourages and promotes for the Black community nationwide.

I also hate that the Black community (like every other community, mind you) allows a place (BET?) for meaningless garbage like this to flourish, instead of demanding a higher quality of popular music (and film, for that matter. God bless Tyler Perry!). I'm mad that most don't think about it past the surface-- and those that do get blasted for "forgettin where they came from" and "listenin to dat white music". In the meantime, those people doing the accusing settle into the stereotype-- and then get mad with they get profiled.

(sigh)

I know pop & hip-pop will always be around, and much of it will always be mindless and meaningless and overplayed. It has it's place among all the rest of the garbage in the entertainment world, but it just sucks watching the general public turn into media zombies. It sucks to watch people stop caring and start settling for whatever. I'm terrified of numbness, and that's what I get from music like that.

Music associated with the Black community used to mean SO much. Jazz and soul and gospel and RNB & reggae and rap all had purpose, substance. They said something. The music was thick and emotional and controversial-- that's what made it stand out.

Now it feels cheap and mass-manufactured. Probably because it is.

I never want to write anything just to be popular. (Which is probably why I'll never make it in the music business. Which is fine.) I want to write things that have meaning. Things that that share wisdom and experience, things that people can relate to, connect to, be comforted by.

I believe my purpose in life is to spread hope to the hopeless through my own experiences and the experiences of others. To connect people by their similar struggles and remind them that others before them have made it-- and that they will too.

Words that mean nothing, do nothing.

And to quote the man who participated in televisions very first primetime interracial kiss,

"I can't get behind that."

When You Wish Upon A Star...

Yesterday, I went to the Happiest Place On Earth.

We met Ariel. We took pictures at Cinderella's Castle. We laid on beaches and in hammocks at expensive Disney resorts that we weren't supposed to be at. We went on the Pirates of the Carribean ride—and I bought Jolly Roger earrings. I saw Jack Sparrow!!! Twice!!! :) We rode the teacups! We broke the rules in the Swiss Family Robinson's treehouse. We got rained on/soaked while driving the most busted go-karts you've ever seen on the Indy 500 speedway. We went to a Disney Dance Party and danced with Snow White, all 7 Dwarves and Chip & Dale. We got stood up by the Disney Villains. Twice. But they're villains, go figure. We ate dinner at the Starlight Café, while watching Stitch do the Macarena on stage. We saw a beautiful fireworks show and two parades. We rode the Monorail. We rode the Ferry Boat. And I saw Aladdin. But I didn't get to talk to him. :( He was too busy dancing with Jasmine. Pssh.

But it doesn't even matter. Because yesterday—I went to the Magic Kingdom.

And it was magnificently Magical.

(more pics to come!)

Concert Commentary: Vol. 1

Transcribed (because I couldn't help myself) halfway in the dark at a creaky table on the front wall of spectator seats at the site of Jordan Miller's first gig, The Listening Room.

ACT ONE
There's this old man. He might be like 50. Maybe.
His feet are sort of small.
And he's singing a song about drinking too many tequilas to forget about his lost love.
It's terrible.
It's sad.
And it's really sort of hilarious.
Is he wearing Crocs? To his show?
No... they're more like Birkenstock Mules.
If he wrote this song last week, I'm just gonna be really sad.
I can't see his left hand-- but he can't be married.
He's wearing old school, skinny fit man jeans.
He has a pointy mustache, and hair that's cut short to conceal a receding hairline.
His eyes are tired. Worn.
And now he's singing about fishing... oh man.
And there's his hand. No wedding ring.
Man. Poor guy.
I wonder what happened to him.
He doesn't look like he's spent his life being someone's sidekick-- he can stand on his own.
He could have even been big stuff back in the day.
But now he's so sad... and this song is pathetic.
I hope it's not a cover... if it was... ooo.

This guy should be a studio musician for like-- Nickel Creek. Or maybe for a country artist.
But he shouldn't be here... in his socks and Stocks at 9:30 on a Tuesday night... he should be at home with his wife... looking at pictures of his grandkids... poor guy.
At least he's not really out drinkin one too many tequilas... I guess.

ACT TWO
These kids are a little better.
She's wearing cute jeans. And an engagement ring. I think.
Maybe her guitarist is her fiance?
Yeah, they're cute.
He looks like... every other boy in a baseball cap with a guitar. Quiet.
She's dark-haired, thin, looks like she was on drill team in high school.
This song, Lucky One, would sound better as a country song.
If she had a little bit raspier/breathier voice.
Hah! I was right! She just said they're newlyweds.
Sonny & Cher. Her words... not mine.
She's also got this Gaitlinburg accent goin' on in her talking voice.
She should lay it on a little thicker for her act!
This song would work better with some twang in it.
Her songs are actually pretty catchy, pretty well-written...
But her voice... mmm... it's just alright.
This song-- Hidden Heroes-- works though.
Anything patriotic has a place.
Patriotic music is a genre in itself.
This song is sweet though.
Yeah, these kids could do alright--
As country song writers.

ACT THREE
Ms. Jordan Miller.
Her voice is SO pure and it's got great color to it.
Like old school Rachael Lampa.
She just makes it look easy.
Easy.
I love people like that.
Her songs all start from cute little anecdotes.
She deserves a better crowd than this.
A youth group. Girls. They'd love her. :)
Her face is so sweet when she's singing. Like she's totally in her element.
I could tell she was nervous when she started, but she's loosened up now.
She don't need that mic though. ;)
And the bass on that keyboard is up way too loud.
But I'll cut the sound dude a break. It's late-- and things can't be perfect at your first show.
There's such a market for her.
She's way more of a natural superstar than the other girl.
This is a good song.
I'd never heard it. But now I have.
And I bet that before long, the world will too.

See Ya Later?

"Because we have a moment here...let me tell you that I have recently become a secret connoisseur...of last looks. You know the way people look at you when they believe it's for the last time? I've started collecting these looks..."
-Drew Baylor, Elizabethtown

Not the greatest movie, but an interesting concept nonetheless.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the movies alone after work-- simply because I'd never done it before-- and because it's cheaper before 6pm. I watched Becoming Jane. Then I came home in a Jane Austen-y mood and watched Pride And Prejudice. The more I watched, the more it got me thinking-- about saying goodbye.

I can't help but wonder if through our own human advancement, we've made interaction with each other more convienient for lifestyles-- but harder on our hearts and relationships.

Nowadays, technology allows us to keep in touch—almost to a fault. We've got GPS trackers and cell phones and blogs and online photo albums and facebook and myspace and text messaging and skype and—all kinds of other crazy mess. It's really difficult NOT to stay in touch. All you have to do is google someone's name and there you have them. Add twenty bucks and you can get a full background check too. Nowadays you have to WORK to lose somebody.

Say you're trying to avoid someone. Or cut them out of your life, for whatever reason. Besides letting go of all the little things (pictures, movies, songs, foods, landmarks, articles of clothing), if you really want them gone, you have to block their myspace. Take them off your top friends. Change your relationship status. You have to unfriend them on facebook. You have to delete their email address and their cell number, change their special ringtone and text message alert, and take off the alert you had on their AIM screenname. You have to change the background picture on on your phone AND your desktop. You can throw away their address, delete your digital pictures and burn your film ones and at that point there's a chance you've lost them for good…

Except for the fact that any time, at any moment of weakness, you could google them, pay that $20 and get all that info back in under 24 hours.

Back in the day, you burnt their letters. And there were no scanned backup copies or photocopies or trash folders to rummage through. There wasn't even Scotch tape to put the ripped pieces back together! There were no background check websites. There were no phones and no planes and no cars! It took ages to get anywhere, to get ahold of someone. There was no such thing as instant communication. If you wanted to escape someone, all you had to do was leave. It was done. And it was entirely possible that person would never see you or contact you again, unless they wrote to your family's house.

I can't help but feel sometimes that maybe we were never meant to stay so connected to everyone we've ever met. Maybe we were never meant to pop in and out of each other's lives so quickly and carelessly.

People used to savor their times together, because they really never knew when they'd see each other again. There was such thing as a stranger on a plane or on a beach. I bet people didn't take each other for granted as much, because they didn't have the luxury of being in each other's faces all the time. They could never really be sure if they'd see each other again-- so they just enjoyed whatever time they were given.

I've reflected hard on these things because I have real trouble saying goodbye. If I have enough time to think about the gravity of goodbye-- I can't do it. I'll demand this cinema-quality closure-- closure that reflects and honors the depth and intensity and importance of the relationship between me and the other person-- closure that I rarely get.

So many times I want to not think about it. I want to just say see ya later. And sometimes, in an effort to fight the pain of truly & properly saying goodbye-- I do.

But I don't want to do that.

I want to live every moment like it's my last and say every goodbye like it's my last. I realized that sounds sort of dramatic, because we all tend to expect to see people again... but what I mean is that every time I walk away, I want to leave with an attitude and a countenance that my friends could remember with joy if I never saw them again. I don't want to walk away sad or angry.

I want to make the most of every potential last moment.

Things...

1. I recently changed the default language on my myspace to Spanish. So now when I pull up my homepage, it reads "latino.myspace.com" and says things like "nuevos mensajes!" after I log in. And I look in my buzon (inbox) and it tells me whether the messages are Leer or No Leido. it's a little confusing... but I like it.

2. Since it's far enough away from my birthday, Christmas, and any other gift exchange type holiday, I'd like to take this moment to announce that I do in fact have an Amazon wish list. If you have any desire to view my very diverse list of wishes, you can search my name on the Amazon website.

3. I am now in possession of Season One of Heroes! I'm on the 3rd disc, and plan to be caught up by next Monday. So if you're a fan-- let's talk! Next Tuesday!

C'mon, c'mon...

Found this from ages ago. Just wanted to do it using my favorite band.

Choose a single band/artist and answer the questions using titles from any of their songs. This is harder than it looks! Only the song TITLES are supposed to answer the questions, not neccessarily the lyrics...

My artist choice: switchfoot

Are you male or female: Concrete Girl

Describe yourself: Learning To Breathe

How do some people feel about you: Living Is Simple

How do you feel about yourself: Awakening

Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Amateur Lovers

Describe your current gf/bf/crush: Golden

Describe where you want to be: Edge Of My Seat

Describe what you want to be: Something More

Describe how you live: Dare You To Move

Describe how you love: On Fire

Share a few words of wisdom: This one's really hit me lately...

You've been living life like it's a sequel,
And you're already bored with the plot--
As if the cast and the score
Are more money than before,
But the script and the backdrops are stock.

We've got the rest of our lives to regret
All the words that were said here tonight, but I bet
That the morning, in the morning
You'll find us in bloom...

So c'mon, c'mon, c'mon--
Let's not be our parents...
Oh c'mon, c'mon, c'mon--
Let's follow this through...
Oh c'mon, c'mon, c'mon--
Everything's waiting...
We will rise with the wings of the dawn
When everything's new... when everything's new.

Let us rise up like the summer sun,
Let these songs awaken the dawn ,
Let us breathe every breath,
Like a gift to be kept,
Let us breathe it all in till it's gone

We've got the rest of our lives to live out
All these dreams we stayed up tonight talking about--
In the morning,
We'll start hoping,
But nothing to soon...

So c'mon, c'mon, c'mon--
Let's abandon this darkness!
Oh c'mon, c'mon, c'mon--
Let's follow this through!
So c'mon, c'mon, c'mon--
Everything's waiting...
Well be lit up like fire and gold,
When everything's new...
When everything's new.

BTW, in case I've not mentioned it in awhile...

I LOVE switchfoot.

I want to hang out with switchfoot.

I want to be friends with switchfoot.

Switchfoot is what I want for my birthday. And Christmas. And my ringtone.

If anybody has connections to a job where I can legitimately be paid to follow switchfoot around—please let me know.

Immediately.

I'll move and everything.

Will work for switchfoot.

Switchfoot is also one of those words that gets really weird when you write it too many times.

It's The Little Things...

"Fuh. Whatcha doin that fuh?"

"Crut? Kret? Crit? Crit! Crit-- right? Did I say it right?"

"No, little crazy! You're crrrrrazy... Crrrazy... I'm crazy for FEELIN!! so loneLEEEE oVERRRR yoooo.... Crrrrazy..."

"If I was a... well, you know."

...I miss my roommate.

Without her, we are just a duo. Just a Guinness & Bass. Which might make our saucer boys happy-- but we'd much rather be the NCM song.

***

"Crikey! Have a look at this girl, she's bEAU'iful!"

"What's wrong, Possum? Bless 'er Lord. Just give 'er a pat..."

"Thirdeen, fourdeen..."

"I can't be bothered, I can't be bothered..."

"Get stuffed! Don't be GAY! You girls are soft!"

And last but not least--

"May I please have a back tickle?"

(sigh)

I also miss my Swan.

"Oh, Make Me Wanna Holla, The Way They Do My Life..."

I'm sorry. I kept my mouth closed at work, but I have to say this here:

If you go to a nice restaurant for dinner, and purchase two bottles of expensive chardonnay, two salads, two appetizers, a pasta dish and a steak, totalling $160.00 and you leave a 4% tip (that's $5.00, folks)-- you will ruin your server's entire evening.

If it happened to be slow night in the restaurant anyway, and you sit on your ass in her section, wasting her life long after the restaurant is closed, and purchase the items listed above and leave a 4% tip ($5.00!) you will ruin your server's entire evening.

Being old and senile and insane is NOT an excuse. (If you are-- please, eat at home. Or at Shoney's. No, don't even do that to Shoney's.)

There is NEVER an excuse for a 4% tip at a nice restaurant when your server did everything she could to ensure your happiness. In fact, by tipping $5.00 on $160.00, (especially if your server had a long, boring night and is feeling slightly irrational) you may very well also endanger your server's life. Because you will make them so irritated that they will speed home, turning right on red without slowing down, and rolling though stop signs, without wearing a seatbelt because they can't do anything else to spite you.*

(sigh)

Okay, all better.

*It was a very short drive, 6 minutes tops, through downtown Franklin. I passed maybe three cars. Not saying it was smart, but-- whatever.

File: Create New Playlist

Lately, I have rediscovered that there are several songs on my iPod that I have ridiculous, unbridled affection for. Not all of them are particularly noteworthy... some of them are questionable... yet they remain on my list of faves. Just thought I'd share.


Twin Rocks, Oregon- Shawn Mullins

I started with this one because it's definately the most obscure. It's barely even a song-- it's a story that rhymes a little, that's spoken over gentle acoustic guitar, with a little singing on the chorus. But since the very first time I heard it, it's haunted me in the simplest most beautiful way. I love it. It's so unassuming. It's raw. Honest. Lonely. Flawed. A story of searching, a story of strangers, a story of life paused to enjoy one moment of beauty in spite of-- everything.

Next time its raining and you can spare 99 cents... check it out.

Photograph- Nickelback

I know, I know. Your respect for me is just oozing away. I can feel it. But there's something about this song (especially the way it ends) that makes me listen past Chad Kroger's growly ol' voice that always sounds exactly the same-- and if I commit to it for the full 4 minutes... it sort of gets to me. Again, it's a story. You expect that from a country song, but not really from this genre.

Also, I'm very much a reminiscer, and terrible-- terrible-- at saying goodbye. So the whole "hard to say it, time to say it" line is pretty close to home. Say what you want, but I definitely have a little tiny piece of my heart carved out for this one.

Austin- Blake Shelton


Speaking of country... I don't listen to it often. But this is my favorite country song of all time. Again, a whole story, and a good story! in 3.5 minutes. I'm impressed by that. It's typical, it's cheesy-- but I wish I'd written it. I think it's beautiful. And like I said, before, if I let myself commit to it, I can totally be crying by the time it's over. :)





Harder To Breathe- Maroon 5

This is one of my absolute favorite angry songs. It doesn't get old (to me). Lyrically, it's not exactly golden, but the composition of the music and the vocal inflections and the inherent frustration is hard to beat. If I were to fight somebody in real life, and real life happened to be a musical, it's entirely possible it would sound just like this.



Much Afraid- Jars of Clay

I'm a really big lyrics person. And this song-- I've been there. Plenty of times. And the tone, the mood of this song is exactly how it feels to completely give up. In a good way. I don't think this particular Jars of Clay album was very popular-- but I always thought it was just the right kind of melancholy. Again, very honest, very simple, very raw.




In Repair- John Mayer

I have this feeling I'm going to keep repeating myself. But again, it's been a long time since I've found a song that so accurately depicts where I've found myself so many times. John Mayer is very good at the honesty thing... and while I would think his albums would grow progressively less honest-- so far, it's not true. He may very well be a jerk in real life, but his lyrics are memorable and so easy to identify with. I respect that.



Inner City Blues- Marvin Gaye
(though I'm listening to the version covered by Marc Broussard)

So much was happening in the world when this album was recorded. This song is courageous, flustered, and fed up without being obnoxious. It's the "At The End Of The Day" (Les Mis) for the 1970's. Enter key words of this entire post: raw, honest, simple, unapologetic, real. With quiet intensity, it appeals to your humanity and demands your attention.

Hard Times- Eastmountainsouth

All these songs are kinda depressing, yeah? Oh well. I guess when you're depressed is when you most need to know that someone else has been there. Therefore, a lot of times, the songs that soothe you when you're depressed are the ones you hold dear... because they brought you out. I love this song because it sounds like it's from another time. I'm actually-- using it for a project. I'm not going to tell you what it is yet though, because you might try to laugh. Oh, but when it's finished-- if it gets finished-- you won't laugh then. :)

Straight Lines- Silverchair

This is currently my favorite song. I listen to it on repeat. I have a few friends who really liked it the first time they heard it. But I was indifferent. I'm pretty sure the reason they liked it is because at the time, they were there. They identified. I wasn't there yet. I wasn't ready.

But I'm there now. I'm ready now. And so grateful to know I'm not alone here among the other "desperate believers".

Post Bon Voyage

Okay first this: waitless.org hilarious, occasionally practical ways to save time in everyday life.

Now for an update-- for those who don't know, my roommate Holly recently acquired a spot on the entertainment crew of the Norwegian Cruise Lines ship, the Gem. Along with a crew of 12 dancers and 4 other singers, she will be spending the next 7 months singing in shows while cruising through the Mediterranean and up and down the US Eastern seaboard. The opportunity is a Godsend and we are SO proud of/excited for her-- even though we're missing her terribly already!

So this past Thursday, I made my way to the airport 3 times in one day. First I took Kisha (she went to Texas for the weekend), then Holly (to Germany to board the Gem), and finally Swannymate (back to Australia for a year and a half!) It was an emotionally exhausting day, and with Heather making wedding plans in Florida, I spent most of my weekend chillin at home alone.

And in that free time, I did some thinking. About my whole issue with trusting God.

I started thinking about it on the way home from the airport when I dropped Swanny off. I started thinking about how grateful I am that the majority of my friendships are going to last for eternity. I started crying over the ones that won't (at least not of this moment). I prayed for those. I thanked God for my incredible friends who continually draw me into his presence and encourage me to venture there on my own.

Thinking about my wealth of wonderful friends took my brooding in yet another direction. The divine wisdom of God. God knew the desires of my heart long before I got to ACU. He knew how I longed for true friendship. But it wasn't the kind of thing I brought up with Him on a daily basis. Still, because He knew exactly what I needed, He put Kisha in my life. He put Val & Dani in my life. He put the Oxford Crew in my life. He put Benjamin and Tim Sayles in my life. He put Holly and Jared and Robert and Swanny and Jamie and Barlowe and Tobin and David in my life. He filled my whole life up with amazing, fascinating people—people I couldn't imagine life without—who I didn't even ask for. I never dreamed up a best friend or a posse for myself. I never agonized over who I would walk through life in my twenties with on a daily basis. But He in His great wisdom, simply and exquisitely ordained all these people to be placed in my path. Without any prompting from me, He has met every one of my needs—and many of my wants as well.

This made me think— how many more amazing things does He have planned for my life that have to do with the people and things I have been comunicating with Him about on a daily basis? Namely my future husband, but also in terms of career ops and possibilities, who knows what miraculous stuff He's up to on the DL? If He can perfect something I haven't had consistent dialogue with him about, how much more is He tailoring my future to calm every anxiety of my heart? Clearly, I have every reason to trust Him. He's given me every reason to trust Him. In fact, I'd be crazy to do anything but that. He's the only one who's ever truly been completely faithful to me, the only one who's made good on every promise He's made to me. He's the only one it makes any sense to trust—and yet so often, I place my trust in his busted up kids, and then wonder how my heart and my plans get so broken.

So now that what I need to remember and how I need to act are here in black and white in front of me, I have no excuse. Hopefully I'll come back and read this next time I get stupid and try to rely on anyone other than Him for my happiness and fullfillment.


"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
Ephesians 3:20-21

Two Peas?

Jade & I had a moment today.

If you know my car, you know she has personality. She's a little eccentric, very stubborn and very dramatic. She puts on a major show when her fuel tank is low and she acts all bubbly and saucy when you fill her up. She's picky about how her doors are opened, who drives her and whether or not she wants to allow you to see how fast you're driving at night.* She's my baby though, and I love her.

So I took her in for an oil change. Full service. We take care of each other like that. I also asked the mechanic to check the brakes out because they were making a scratchy noise last week. So I'm sitting in the office, letting Jade & the mechanic talk to each other, and I'm looking up at the service board with all the pricing on it;

Basic oil change: $25.00
Full Service: $32.00
Diagnostic: $16.50
Brake Check & Tire Rotation: $15.00

It occured to me then that since I asked the mechanic to check my brakes and give Jade a full service oil change, that he was probably rotating the tires as well. I could see Jade's bright green paint in the third bay, farthest from the door. So I headed outside, to make sure the guy was doing all I asked him to do.

As I'm walking over, I see the mechanic on the shop phone, walk into a storage closet or parts closet or something and vanish for a second. And as I reach the third bay, there's Jade. She looked exactly like any other car would in such circumstances, but because I'm a storyteller and she happens to be quite a character, this is what I saw/thought:

As I come around the corner, Jade's sitting there with her hood open, all four tires cast aside, looking at me like a mischievous high school kid caught in some devious act, with wide doe-in-headlight headlights. I cross my arms, look around for the mechanic and stare her down.

Me: Mmhmm.

Jade: Ummmm… okay. This is not what it looks like. I swear.

Me: Jade. I leave you out here with him for fifteen minutes and you let him take all your tires off, with your hood open for all the world to see?!

Jade: Look, he had a drill, okay? Well, it was a pressurized tire iron, really. I didn't mean to. But it just—it all happened so fast! I barely had time to think! You know you can't just leave me alone like that!

I shook my head at her, biting back a hint of a smile and thought,
"Well, I guess it could happen to anyone."


*Her dashboard lights are touch and go, and no longer respond to my Han Solo-esque knocking them into submission.

Hey champ, you've got somethin in your eye there—lemme help you out with that…

Sometimes I feel like all patrons of the Starbucks in Williamson County do is talk about God. Talk about God and read their bibles. Like every Christian in Franklin who's seeking God in any form, is positive that they'll find at least a smidgen of Him sitting in a comfy chair at the bottom of a Starbucks cup.

Every time I sit at any Starbucks and write, there's either a musician/artist with a laptop and headphones writing/editing/designing a song/cd graphic/press release OR a bible study or group therapy session or theology battle or spiritual b-real session happening at the table beside me. It's not a bad thing-- it's what I get for living in Franklin. But every time I notice one of these sessions, I'm reminded of how fortunate we are as American Christians. And how much we take our freedom for granted. How much I take my own relationship with Christ for granted.

I'm not gonna lie-- these Starbucks Spirituality Meetings always bother me a teeny bit. Or if I'm really honest, maybe they convict me because I judge these other patrons according to my own walk. Every time I notice one of these meetings, I can't help but think about Christians in other countries with other governments and religious backgrounds who risk their lives every time they even mention the name of Christ. I think I've romanticized their struggle. I feel like they must know God in a realer, deeper way because they love Him in the minority.

(And while that's true, I shouldn't waste my time beating myself up because I'm not suffering for Christ in that way. I should be praying more frequently for the strength of those persecuted saints, and pursuing Christ even harder to strengthen our my own relationship with Him. Should is the key word. :/ )

But here in Williamson County, Jesus is common ground for most. He's sort of splayed everywhere, loud as a Sunday newspaper advertisement. And sometimes, it feels cheap. So much less genuine than the Jesus Freak martyrs I've read about, who honestly count their lives as nothing compared to the cause of Christ. Their faith seems so much more legit and intense to me. Maybe I'm jealous/ashamed because my faith feels a little mass-produced sometimes. Because my passion for Him hasn't been so ardent as of late.

But that should drive me into my own deeper study—not compel me to judge the ladies with the bibles and the lattes across the shop from me.

Self-loathing of your own walk does not a joyful, contagious Christ-follower make.

"Not that I have already obtained this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself to have yet taken hold of it, but one thing I do know: forgetting what is behind, and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." –Phil.3:12-14*

Thanks for indulging me this little therapy session. :)


*Hehe, just pulled out my bible to make sure I wrote that correctly. While sitting in Starbucks. I am so the person I just blasted. Thanks, thanks for that, Ada**. You and your sense of humor. :)

** Ada (Ah-da) n. : the name Juliette often uses to refer to Christ within their personal relationship. The "why" is not crucial. But if the name ever pops up here, consider your question is answered.

My Roommate Made Me Do It...

How does she post 100 things about herself and still maintain her mystery? How?!
(tagged by Ms. California herself...)

1. I love names. Really. And naming things. I'm actually very good with names.
   
2. I wish I was left handed.
3. I think fluorescent lighting is gross.
4. I don't generally watch a lot of tv.
5. But my favorite show is LOST.
6. I too, vote for Kate & Sawyer.
   
7. And even though it's megacheesy, I really like Smallville.
   
8. Chloe Sullivan is my favorite character on the show.
9. But I have a crush on Tom Welling.
10. And I will have a crush on Clark Kent for-- maybe the rest of my life.
11. I consider myself a connoseiur of chocolate cake.
12. And a very big fan of convertibles.
    
13. I too studied abroad in Oxford, UK.
14. I took about 45 rolls of film while I was there.
15. The camera I used? It wasn't digital. And I named it Luke. (I too, name all of my important stuff.
    
16. I lost my favorite pair of pajama pants in England,
17. Left all my makeup behind the weekend I went to Paris,
18. Stayed in a trailer park in Venice Italy,
    
19. Went on the Sound of Music tour in Austria,
20. Ate chocolate cake in a castle in Germany,
21. Rode a ferry boat to Ireland,
22. Slept in a ferry station in Wales,
23. Melted a candy bar on my sunburnt skin in Spain,
24. Watched the Lion King from the front row of theatre in London,
25. And haven't worn a watch since I got back to America.
26. I don't like wearing yellow.
    
27. I love wearing red.
28. I wish my hair was red sometimes.
29. Last week it was.
30. I really like wearing boots.
31. My favorite musical is Les Mis.
32. And my favorite character in that musical is Eponine.
    
33. I love hats.
    
34. I love gloves without fingers.
35. I love scarves.
36. I was a drum major in high school.
37. I also played the saxophone.
38. I don't paint my fingernails because I think it makes my fingers look clownish.
39. I like the smell of new bike tires.
40. And new car tires.
41. And Payless Shoe Stores.
42. I'm a terrible parallel parker.
43. I say it's because my car doesn't have power steering... but maybe it isn't.
44. My car's name is Jade.
45. My laptop's name is Bruce Wayne.
46. And subsequently, my flash drive is the Batmobile.
47. I have a thing for superheros.
    
48. I really like words. Thesauruses (Thesauri?) fascinate me.
    
49. I like it when people use SAT vocabulary words in context in mundane situations.
50. In my car, I am a kareoke superstar.
51. I'm a terrible drawer. (That's pronounced draw-er.) As in artist. I'm not a terrible artist. but I'm a terrible drawer.
52. I should have used the word "sketcher" in the previous sentence.
53. I wish I could skateboard.
54. I wish I could surf!
55. I've never been to California.
56. Or Florida.
57. Or South America. But I'm totally going there one day.
58. I can hardly ever go to Target without buying something.
59. I would eat all organic if I could afford it.
60. I HATE when my jeans aren't long enough.
61. I love eating steak. And chocolate.
    
62. But I don't really like shrimp.
63. Or lamb. Blech.
64. Or Guinness. Ew.
    
65. I'm a little annoyed by crispy bacon. That's no way to cook bacon, that just means you didn't pay attention.
66. I have never smoked anything.
67. I think mohawks and tattoos are sexy.
68. But nothing beats a man with a passionate heart and a stunning smile.
69. The worst book I read in high school was The Stranger by Albert Camus
70. I hate crawly bugs. And flying bugs. I think that covers all of them.
    
71. And mold.
72. And gnarly grody teeth.
73. Actuall, dentistry in general.
74. And edges. All five of those things really frighten me.
75. I am SUCH a dog person.
76. I have a guitar, but I don't really play it.
    
77. I would love to be fluent in piano.
78. And Spanish.
    
79. My first crush? Kindergarten. Christopher Rodriguez.
80. I used to really like the taste of Dimetapp.
81. I love writing when it's raining outside.
82. I'm not the best bike rider.
    
83. Um... making this list makes me feel a little vain, and I don't know what else to tell you...
    
84. I won't be offended if you stop reading this now.
85. Okay... I like Poloroid pictures.
86. I don't like metal music.
87. I like french fries. A lot.
88. I used to be pyrophobic.
89. I'm extremely fond of the Cheesecake Factory.
90. I want to be in a musical.
91. Lord of the Rings is my favorite movie.
92. I've never seen any Austin Powers movies.
93. I'm guilty of facebook stalking.
94. I don't like scary movies.
95. I think baseball is really boring.
96. I like Italian food. A lot.
97. And bread. Bread is delicious.
    
98. Maybe it's carbs. I just really like carbs.
99. I'm watching Smallville right now.
    
100. And most of the time, I really like making lists of things. :)
     

It's A Bird! It's A Plane! It's—Still Something I Dream About!

Over the years, I've heard stories of a lot of parents who restricted their children's television viewing due to the nature of the cartoons. And I'm not talking about like Tales From The Crypt or the Simpsons or Goosebumps, because those are pretty obvious. But I've heard many stories of friends who's parents banished the Smurfs and Carebears and Gummi Bears and various other serieses (sp?) from their houses because of their inherent supernatural/magical powers.

I began trying to understand this and also trying to decide whether I was any better or worse for having spent my childhood surrounded by these cartoons. Because nearly everything I watched growing up had something to do with somebody having supernatural powers. It started with simple things, like Carebears, who defeated evil with their united Carebear Stares, then there was My Little Pony-- these horses covered in glitter and bows who could talk—and sometimes fly. Then there were Ninja Turtles—ordinary turtles who got covered in extrordinary ooze and became fierce fighting machines.

When I was older, things got more realistic (Hey Dude, Saved By The Bell, California Dreams, Punky Brewster) but there was still crazy mess like *Out Of This World and Power Rangers & VR Troopers that made me think/wish that I could be getting more out of life by being some form of superhero.

*(Being able to freeze time doesn't make you a superhero, but there are still moments in life where I wish I was Evie-- sans the whole Father In the Purple Cube thing.)

The older I got, the more interested I became in more classic superheroism. When I was 13, I saw Return of the Jedi for the first time (I saw them completely out of order Episode 6, then 4, then 5.) and got hooked. You have no idea how bad it was. And I'm not going to elaborate. Not in this post anyway. :)

When I was about 14, I ran in a circle known throughout my youth group as the CRASH girls. This acronym stood for Cosmic Radioactive Almighty Super Heroes. (Justice League, WHAT?) There were four of us. We had matching shirts and matching crushes on the guy who was our youth group intern. I was Batgirl.

It wasn't long after that, the first X-Men movie came out and I started hounding my comic book-reading boyfriend for various backstories on the mutants. I even named my first truck after one of Cyclops and & Jean Grey's kids. And starting way back in 1993 or so, when Tom Welling was still a bachelor and Michael Rosenbaum still had hair on his head, there was an un-desperate woman named Teri Hatcher and a devastatingly handsome man named Dean Cain who occupied the 7 o'clock hour of my Sunday nights. For it was never the cartoon or even the old movies that caught my attention (Superman 3 actually really freaked me out), but Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, that spawned my lifelong affection for/ attraction to the Man of Steel. Smallville just made it worse. (I actually just purchased Seasons 4 & 5 today for $19.99 a piece. My collection is nearly complete. Thank you, Target.)

And nowadays, when shows like Heroes and Who Wants To Be A Superhero? (which I've still never seen) and movies like Spiderman, Batman and Fantastic Four and The Incredibles come out and splice superheroes so simply into everyday life, it makes me very happy. To this day, anything superhero related is intriguing to me.

Now for whatever reason, I was never particularly mesmerized by witches or vampires. Shows like Charmed, Angel, Buffy, even Harry Potter never really grabbed my attention. Maybe because Ouija boards and spells and vampires and Ursula and Maleficent always kind of made me nervous as a kid. In fact, I still don't do vampire or zombie movies, but that's because I don't like people bleeding everywhere. (Actually, that's another great thing about superhero shows and movies. People get hit with steel bars and smashed into brick walls and hardly ever get bloodied. Unrealistic? Yes. Less stressful? Also yes.) Maybe it's because the old school magic of casting spells and biting necks seems more probable, more doable, more explainable. Superhero stuff (flying and being made of steel and laser vision and x-ray vision and super speed and telekinesis and mutated genes, etc.) is a little more ridiculous, a little more imaginative. And therefore, in my opinion, cooler.

So letting your kids watch cartoons where people have superpowers won't corrupt them for life—it might make them jump off the roof into the pool though. Or spend at least 5 minutes once a year sitting in bed trying to turn out the light with the Force. Or occasionally tape three pencils to each fist and spike out their hair all weird and growl at people.

Or, as in my case, they might just still wish that they were superheroes-- when they're 23.

(i just couldn't resist.) :)

Mind-Blowing Adultness

I'd just like to say that

I now have a friend who assists in performing surgeries.

And I have a friend that can deliver babies.

How grown up is that?!

Watching/hearing about all my friends turning into super cool and noble grown up people is one of my very favorite things.

:)

Secret Single Behavior

"Some people call them "guilty pleasures." Sex and the City would call it "Secret Single Behavior," as in the things you could never do in front of your boyfriend. Carrie confesses that when no one else is around, she likes to eat grape jelly on crackers standing up at the counter while reading Vogue.

Most of the time, it's not all that secretive, and we don't generally feel guilty for doing it. It's not always even that outrageous, just something that's slightly weird..." -saltwatercoke blog

Yeah, we all got 'em. Some of mine?

-I have a skirt that I wear only when I'm cleaning my house. Kish has one too, and when we break out the Comet and the Windex, we also break out the Boca skirts.

-Sometimes when I buy really good cookies, and there are only like 10 in the package, I hide them so I don't have to share them. Only child syndrome.

- I love choreography and I always want to know the choreography. Probably because I love musicals. But if a song comes on (from a musical or otherwise) and there are moves to it and I actually know them? I generally always do them. Even if it's not cool anymore.

-Sometimes in the morning… or the afternoon, I'll sit in the living room and eat my bowl of cereal alone. No tv, no radio, no magazine, no roommates. Just me and my cereal, there on the couch. I'm really comfortable with that.

-When I listen to soundtracks in my car, I usually choose a part and stick to it consistently. It makes me feel like I'm in the show and I like that. My favorite parts to play? Elphaba, Mimi Marquez, Ariel (Mermaid) & Eponine Thenardier. But when necessary, I'm also a damn good Mark Cohen & Marius Pontmercy, if I do say so myself.

(Why do so many of my secret single behaviors have to do with musicals? Hmm…)

-I drink straight out of all the containers in the fridge that belong to me. Shamelessly. I've been doing it since I started college. It's going to be a tough habit to break.

- I too, have elaborate, somewhat dramatic pre-conversation/wishful thinking/I-wish-I-had-said-this conversations with imaginary listeners. Mostly while driving.

- I'm a good speller. Always have been. But I will spell the word "definately" wrong for the rest of my life. It's a cognitive mistake. And spell check always fixes it for me automatically. At this point, I think it's the one word that I will consistently spell wrong without caring.

There's a Lot.

Last weekend I watched two movies I'd never seen, both with Anthony Michael Hall in them.
(The Breakfast Club & Edward Scissorhands)

I also experienced that super weird feeling that occurs when you stay up really late-- like until it gets light outside-- and there is no division between "Man, tonight was really fun." and "Damn, that sun's really bright this morning."
(Holly's birthday party)

Last weekend, I looked into purchasing a speed bag to hang in my garage, wore heels for much too long and my hair was all the same color.
(Brownish.)

This week, I started a new project. Spent 4.5 hours at Starbucks, makin it happen.
(Hint: There's a script involved.)

This week, I fell asleep on the couch twice-- and was late to work-- twice.
(I've developed an immunity to my alarm clock.)

This week, I wore a denim miniskirt with flip flops for a whole day, ran into several old friends, and altered (a chunk of) my hair color.
(Think red. Like fire engines.)

36 Hours of Awesome

I can't believe I haven't told you about this!!!

Okay, so Monday was Saffire Cleaning Day. Which meant I had to be at work at 10am. That, combined with the fact that last weekend there was a Grace Chapel Baptism Bash, and that I'd been thinking about getting some writing done, persuaded me to relinquish the idea of a day trip and stay in Franklin rather than drive all the way up to Mt. Juliet to spend Sunday at the lakehouse.

(Backstory: Swanny's friends with a lady who lets him stay at her beautiful Real World-esque lake house, and use her beautiful speedboats and water toys, so long as he cleans it all up for her. Last weekend, we found out about 4pm on Saturday afternoon that we were invited to come up and play.)

But then, I realized that there's one more Baptism Bash to go before summer ends. And then Jared and Handsome Rob hand delivered our "new" washer and dryer, which crossed one more thing off my list, and then Jared also decided to go to the lakehouse. That made the lakehouse roster Swanny, Matty, Jake, Jared, Holla & Kish. So, seeing as how 2/3rds of T3 does not a Trizzo make, and feeling as though I would probably miss out by staying home, I packed two days worth of summer clothes in about fifteen minutes, left my stuff with my roommates, and headed to work. Then, following a less than profitable Saturday night at the 'Fire, I jumped in my car and traveled a little less than an hour North to the lake house.

It turned into the best 36 hours of-- probably the whole summer.

I got there and everyone was hanging out on the upper deck, above the boats. Kish & Matt were talking in the grass, so I climbed the scary spiral staircase (which I later learned was covered in massive spiders. It's amazing what you'll do when you don't know what you're doing.) And listened to Jake play guitar and watched Holly jump off the deck into the dark lake.

After an hour, we went back to the house so Jake & I could change into swimsuits. From there, we jumped into the Jacuzzi, where epic shenanigans ensued for about the next three hours. It was amazing and absolutely hilarious. Truth or Dare just never gets old.

Later that night, the boys suffered through Jammin In Jamaica, Matty & Jake left to head back to Franklintown, and Holly and I launched into another full fledged wrestling match with the Crocodile Hunter that left us-- marked, to say the least. I still have some bruises. He's feisty, that one is. Holla & I have learned our lesson 2 or 3 times over now, but we're just too stubborn to admit defeat. Me, Kish & Holla went to bed around 5:30 am, and woke up the next morning to Swanny jumping on our bed singing about flying carpets and whole new worlds. And bless his heart, he's one of my favorite people in the world, but don't look for him on The Singing Bee anytime soon. ;)

We all got up, got dressed, ate Lucky Charms and headed out to the boat where we spent the next two hours flying across the lake. It was one of the best moments of my life. It was magical. I could not pry myself off the nose of the boat. Later, under pressure of being thrown in if we dared refuse, we jumped in and swam in the delightful murky fish water. And on the way home, I let the wind blow dry my hair and it was all halfro and fabulous.

Came back to dock, since we were nearly out of gas, and made burgers for lunch. Jared's grill skills are impeccable. We tore those things up! Jared and Kish took powernaps while Holly and I went on an *adventure to round up more gasoline. After a few hours passed, we loaded up the boats again and headed back out to a spot called Two Foot Cove. Upon finding it, we cranked up Luna Halo, dropped anchor, jumped out and wandered through the crowd of Weekend Warriors, hoping to start a volleyball game on the court set up in the center of the cove. We did start a game, and we won! :) Jared,-- excuse me, Liam Westerbridge-- pretended to be his British alter-ego and we acquired Jello shots from a neighboring boater who was happy that Kish & I were representin the black population at the lake. :) Then we got back in the boat, sped across the lake and got ready for dinner.

While waiting on Jared to grill the steaks, we watched Big Brother and I played with the beautiful lab puppy from next door. Then I drank my very first Red Stripe (Hooray Beer!) and ate the best steak I've had in a long time. Holy cow, it was amazing. Mmmm!

We cleaned up from dinner, grabbed ice cream and fireworks and headed out to the dock to shoot them off. After almost blowing ourselves up/setting things on fire, we walked back to the boat dock where we all jumped in and cruised out to the center of the lake. We sat there until the water turned to glass and the stars glowed bright. Lightning 100 provided the background soundtrack as we told stories, answered questions and began to think for the first time about how much we're going to miss Swanny in about a month.

Pulling back into port, we bid the boat farewell, showered and said goodbye to Jared. Then we all fell asleep in Swanny's giant bed watching tv until someone woke up and made everyone go brush their teeth and go to bed for real.

Next morning, Kish & I headed back to Franktown and the real world, talking the whole way home about how happy we were that we'd gone. It was truly the best 36 hours I've had in a long time, and I wouldn't have missed it for the world.


* By adventure, I mean Holly spilled gas all over her swimsuit coverup and it was so hot outside that I'm surprised she didn't just explode right there.

Carpe Weekend!

• Tried on a red hot smokin dress for Holly's birthday party-- and then, a Batgirl costume. Sort of.

• Talked to Swanny on Skype. The first of many times, I'd imagine.
  

• Punched all my nervousness in the face and jumped on the back of my friend Nick's motorcycle. We rode to breakfast at Loveless Cafe via the Natchez Trace, which is probably the best place to ride a motorcycle ever. Ate pancakes, and then rode back home. Best use of a morning in a long time.

• Discovered that there are secret clubs you can only be in if you have the proper vehicle. These clubs all have special waves or acknowledgements that they throw at each other in passing, like they all went to the same university or something. There's a Speedboat Club, a Motorcycle Club, a Convertible Club, a BMW club, a VW Bug Club, a Cyclists Club-- it's crazy, really. I bet in Europe there are Vespa clubs too. But not in Rome, so much. That'd be crazy. Everyone would just be waving at each other all day.

• Discovered that it is not necessarily speeding that I enjoy, but the feeling of flying. This is why I enjoy driving with the windows (or the top) down, perching mermaid-style on the nose of the speedboat and riding on motorcycles. I do not however, enjoy the feeling of freefalling, which is why I don't see myself bungee jumping or skydiving in the near future.

• Bought deliciously fugly crimson ugg boots at Charlotte Russe.

• Spoke some of my new Spanish vocab to the crew in the dish room at work.
  

• Worked a wedding/reception in the Blue Room at work and made $350.00 in one swoop, thanks to all the food and alcohol consumption.

• Drank a tic too much leftover champagne after hours while cleaning up the Blue Room from said wedding.

• Went to church, thanked God for my roommates, absorbed encouragement about life in general from everywhere, and admired him in his blue shirt, even if it might've been from Baby Gap.

• Sang Justin Timberlake very loud in the car with roommates.

• Went to Pancake Pantry in very good company. Branched out and ate French Toast! And eggs. And hash browns. And orange juice. Man, I love breakfast.

• Watched the Bourne Ultimatum, cringed at the car crashes and remembered when Albert Finney was a Big Fish. Very good movie.

• Walked Mojo around the neighborhood until he and me and Holla were wore out.

• Brainstormed the new T3 Blog. More to come.

It's been a good weekend. :)