the ink is barely dry on the contract. i almost threw up on the closing table twice. the movers are coming at 8:30am tomorrow morning, and i have got to start moving boxes, so they can actually get to the furniture. for the first time since i left home to go to college, i will offically have a permanent address, and be fully unpacked. i don't really believe it, just yet. but the papers in my car with the RIDICULOUS numbers all over it say it's true, so if seeing is believing, maybe i'm on the right track. i'll put up some pictures later today, so you can see the new digs. paint will be forthcoming posthaste, or as soon as i can make up my mind and go raid home depot.
mil besos--rmg
27 December 2006
10 December 2006
a kind of love song
i can hear you coughing in the bedroom across the hall. i can hear your nails clicking on the floor, when you totter to the kitchen to get a drink of water. i can still walk across the hall and pet you, if i want. but i can't make you feel better. i can't make you younger. i can't even speak your language, just scratch your tummy and tell you how much i love you.
tomorrow, that will change. we will do for you what we can, and that is to help you stop being sick. mom doesn't like how it feels. i don't like how it feels. but the fact of the matter is that, like it or not, this is what we need to do for you, to respect your life, and to keep it good.
i'm glad i bought you the blue blanket for christmas last year. i'm glad that you used to push my door open and sleep on my laundry, even though it meant i had to fabreeze the whole top layer, or re-wash it altogether. i'm glad you let me take you on walks, and would bark at me when i worked on a project too late. i'm glad that you came to live at our house and be part of our family. i'm glad you didn't like to play fetch, but loved to chase deer. i'm glad that you used to eat rawhide sticks by the dozen, and gave the cat hell. i'm even glad that i caught you in the cat box, sifting out a treat, more than once.
i can't believe you've been part of our life for 15 years, and that tomorrow, you will go away. i hope that you have a good rest. i hope that on the other side, there are lots of deer to chase and no leashes to keep you from running as far and as long as you want. i hope that you see people you know, and that they walk you and love you until we can get there, and all be together, again.
you are the best dogin all the world, hands down. i know that sounds simple. and i know it's stupid to write a whole blog entry on a mutt my little brother found on the side of the road on his way to school, one day. i get that. but still and even so, i wanted to say it, write it, make it real, just the same.
we have loved you the best way we knew how. and you gave us your unfettered affection and constant companionship. thank you for keeping my mother safe at night, for being her friend when i couldn't be with her, for keeping her happy on tough days. thank you for being jealous of her love, to the point that you would move me out of the way to sit next to her on the couch, or bark at her when you thought she'd been on the phone for too long. you could have peed in every shoe i owned and chewed up all my books, and i would still love you, just for that.
there is a reason that dogs are man's best friend. they are utterly devoted, they exist to keep us company and to love us. all they ask in return is that we care for them. caring for you has been a pleasure, and even though you have to go to sleep earlier than any of us would like, i am glad that we don't have to put you through any more discomfort. you are an amazing creation. i thank God that you will always be our little black dog, with the funny smooshed face and floppy ears. and if there is a heaven for people like us, i know that you will be there, grinning from ear to ear, running free, and waiting for us to come and love you some more. so, good night, beauregard, one last time. i love you very much.
mil besos--rmg
tomorrow, that will change. we will do for you what we can, and that is to help you stop being sick. mom doesn't like how it feels. i don't like how it feels. but the fact of the matter is that, like it or not, this is what we need to do for you, to respect your life, and to keep it good.
i'm glad i bought you the blue blanket for christmas last year. i'm glad that you used to push my door open and sleep on my laundry, even though it meant i had to fabreeze the whole top layer, or re-wash it altogether. i'm glad you let me take you on walks, and would bark at me when i worked on a project too late. i'm glad that you came to live at our house and be part of our family. i'm glad you didn't like to play fetch, but loved to chase deer. i'm glad that you used to eat rawhide sticks by the dozen, and gave the cat hell. i'm even glad that i caught you in the cat box, sifting out a treat, more than once.
i can't believe you've been part of our life for 15 years, and that tomorrow, you will go away. i hope that you have a good rest. i hope that on the other side, there are lots of deer to chase and no leashes to keep you from running as far and as long as you want. i hope that you see people you know, and that they walk you and love you until we can get there, and all be together, again.
you are the best dogin all the world, hands down. i know that sounds simple. and i know it's stupid to write a whole blog entry on a mutt my little brother found on the side of the road on his way to school, one day. i get that. but still and even so, i wanted to say it, write it, make it real, just the same.
we have loved you the best way we knew how. and you gave us your unfettered affection and constant companionship. thank you for keeping my mother safe at night, for being her friend when i couldn't be with her, for keeping her happy on tough days. thank you for being jealous of her love, to the point that you would move me out of the way to sit next to her on the couch, or bark at her when you thought she'd been on the phone for too long. you could have peed in every shoe i owned and chewed up all my books, and i would still love you, just for that.
there is a reason that dogs are man's best friend. they are utterly devoted, they exist to keep us company and to love us. all they ask in return is that we care for them. caring for you has been a pleasure, and even though you have to go to sleep earlier than any of us would like, i am glad that we don't have to put you through any more discomfort. you are an amazing creation. i thank God that you will always be our little black dog, with the funny smooshed face and floppy ears. and if there is a heaven for people like us, i know that you will be there, grinning from ear to ear, running free, and waiting for us to come and love you some more. so, good night, beauregard, one last time. i love you very much.
mil besos--rmg
28 November 2006
window on the world
so it's tuesday of my first full week as a working lady. it feels like it ought to be six months into the gig, but in a good way. i'll tell you the truth, they are not throwing me any soft balls, or riding their breaks, or any of the metaphors for going easy on me. i am definitely earning my permission to speak with authority, not to mention my paycheck. i'm also learning A LOT. i have to keep a check on my ego at all times, and remind myself that just because i have fresh eyes and an outside perspective, i am not the final answer on the Right Way To Get Things Done. you can probably imagine that doing that is a hard thing for me, sometimes. since i haven't been hit over the head with a walking-aid, been drenched in ensure, mugged in my office, or outright fired, i feel ok about my job performance, to date.
yet another ray of sunshine in my merry little bonnet is that as of, or around jan. 15, i will be joining the ranks of Proud Homeowners. a two/two townhouse is in my future, and possibly yours, should you venture to the alamo city and need free lodging. i can't wait to get moved in, and rediscover all the things that have been in boxes for the last 18 months. it'll be kind of like getting all new stuff, only it's all been paid for, already, which makes it even more appealing. and except for the turquoise accent wall and the over-done stencil of climbing english ivy in the kitchen, i'm not going to have to make any real changes on the place. granted, i will have to buy an oven in the next year or so, i'm sure i can muddle through any cooking jags i may go on with my microwave (which, oddly enough, is also a convection oven) and a toaster oven. we'll keep our fingers crossed, anyway. it's bizarre to me that i'm buying a house, but in a good way.
life is good, very full, but good. like i said, i'm having to spend a lot of time in my head, calling myself back, examining what i want to say before i say it, so i make sure it's good stuff and not just my agenda. it would be very easy for me to get swallowed up by this job, to make it bigger than it is, and God knows it's already big enough. the temptation is going to be to just work all the time, not ever shut off the constant streams of needs, fixes, ideas, initiatives, ect. and that just flat can't happen. all work and no play leaves rachie dateless, childless, and in a two/two with a turquoise accent wall and 10 cats. not a pleasant picture, not at all. and even if you substitute sugar gliders for the cats, it's still not a very glamorous existence. if i learn anything from this job, outside of a greater understanding of the grace of God and greater empathy toward my brothers and sisters in the world, i hope i learn a good sense of the balance between walking with people and letting go of them, something like a marriage between the ministry of presence and the ministry of absence. and in doing so, i will have to remember a promise i made when i was 10 years old, and the church asked me if i would " seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving my neighbor as myself", and i answered, in my naivete, not knowing that 18 years on, life would look very different, " i will, with God's help". i don't regret the answer a bit, and i am still awed and daunted by the challenge, surprised by the audacity of my ten-year old self to take that kind of risk, and know a little bit of what it meant and be grateful that my life has opened itself to find out what that means for practical purposes. i still find that answer ringing in my head and my heart, and hope that i have the grace to live into that promise, and know that God's helping me is the most important part of everything.
more later.
mil besos--rmg
yet another ray of sunshine in my merry little bonnet is that as of, or around jan. 15, i will be joining the ranks of Proud Homeowners. a two/two townhouse is in my future, and possibly yours, should you venture to the alamo city and need free lodging. i can't wait to get moved in, and rediscover all the things that have been in boxes for the last 18 months. it'll be kind of like getting all new stuff, only it's all been paid for, already, which makes it even more appealing. and except for the turquoise accent wall and the over-done stencil of climbing english ivy in the kitchen, i'm not going to have to make any real changes on the place. granted, i will have to buy an oven in the next year or so, i'm sure i can muddle through any cooking jags i may go on with my microwave (which, oddly enough, is also a convection oven) and a toaster oven. we'll keep our fingers crossed, anyway. it's bizarre to me that i'm buying a house, but in a good way.
life is good, very full, but good. like i said, i'm having to spend a lot of time in my head, calling myself back, examining what i want to say before i say it, so i make sure it's good stuff and not just my agenda. it would be very easy for me to get swallowed up by this job, to make it bigger than it is, and God knows it's already big enough. the temptation is going to be to just work all the time, not ever shut off the constant streams of needs, fixes, ideas, initiatives, ect. and that just flat can't happen. all work and no play leaves rachie dateless, childless, and in a two/two with a turquoise accent wall and 10 cats. not a pleasant picture, not at all. and even if you substitute sugar gliders for the cats, it's still not a very glamorous existence. if i learn anything from this job, outside of a greater understanding of the grace of God and greater empathy toward my brothers and sisters in the world, i hope i learn a good sense of the balance between walking with people and letting go of them, something like a marriage between the ministry of presence and the ministry of absence. and in doing so, i will have to remember a promise i made when i was 10 years old, and the church asked me if i would " seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving my neighbor as myself", and i answered, in my naivete, not knowing that 18 years on, life would look very different, " i will, with God's help". i don't regret the answer a bit, and i am still awed and daunted by the challenge, surprised by the audacity of my ten-year old self to take that kind of risk, and know a little bit of what it meant and be grateful that my life has opened itself to find out what that means for practical purposes. i still find that answer ringing in my head and my heart, and hope that i have the grace to live into that promise, and know that God's helping me is the most important part of everything.
more later.
mil besos--rmg
16 November 2006
bringing you up to speed...
i finished my second day EVER as pastoral care coordinator, and i'm pretty much not dead, yet. it's pretty cool. pretty much it's checking up on people who are sick at home, or in the hospital; checking in on folks in assisted living facilities; fielding phone calls and drop ins for various kinds of assistance--light bill, rent, shelter info, grocery and gas money, bus tickets, etc. basically helping people out and training other folks in the church to help me help other people, or better yet, take the bull by the horns and find a ministry of their own. the job description has gotten bigger since i applied, and probably will be added to daily, until further notice. i took a big bite of something, for sure.
i have to keep reminding myself that this job is not saving the whole world in one fell swoop--it's about helping one person save themselves one person at a time. when i tell myself that, i'm not so scared i'm going to mess this up and send my parishoners and myself to the nut hut for an extended, and unplanned vacation.
i'm going house hunting on saturday morning, which seems utterly surreal and slightly bizarre, considering the fact that i haven't a) ever even owned my own house or other fit domicile, and b) haven't even lived on my own in like a year and a half. the thought of moving my stuff and unpacking it all in the midst of learning a new town and a new job is a little daunting at the moment. but it's oddly exciting and BIG at the same time. i can hardly wait to begin.
i never thought i'd say this, but thank God and the sweet baby Jesus that my first job was working in dc for a real butthole, because everything after that has seemed like a cake-walk. and i'll be honest with you, aside from learning how to ignore the random fart during staff meetings, i also learned alot about what i'll be doing now, and made a lot of good memories that are very comforting to me, now. there were also some initiatives i worked on in dc that could bear repeating in the alamo city, as well. i'm trying to keep it all in perspective, and remembering that austing and dc were their own experiences, and not everything has to be replicated. it's a lot like packing--keeping, sorting, throwing away, reusing, regifting, etc. thank goodness i've learned something to apply, huh?
life is good. it is very full. and as i look toward next thursday with some sense of nostalgia and an insatiable hunger for pecan pie, i have many things for which to be thankful, the challenge before me among the foremost. you can be sure this is the first of many posts. you can also be sure that i will try and tell you as many funny stories about the mishaps i'm sure i'll be working on just as soon as they happen. i am on a great adventure.
mil besos--rmg
i have to keep reminding myself that this job is not saving the whole world in one fell swoop--it's about helping one person save themselves one person at a time. when i tell myself that, i'm not so scared i'm going to mess this up and send my parishoners and myself to the nut hut for an extended, and unplanned vacation.
i'm going house hunting on saturday morning, which seems utterly surreal and slightly bizarre, considering the fact that i haven't a) ever even owned my own house or other fit domicile, and b) haven't even lived on my own in like a year and a half. the thought of moving my stuff and unpacking it all in the midst of learning a new town and a new job is a little daunting at the moment. but it's oddly exciting and BIG at the same time. i can hardly wait to begin.
i never thought i'd say this, but thank God and the sweet baby Jesus that my first job was working in dc for a real butthole, because everything after that has seemed like a cake-walk. and i'll be honest with you, aside from learning how to ignore the random fart during staff meetings, i also learned alot about what i'll be doing now, and made a lot of good memories that are very comforting to me, now. there were also some initiatives i worked on in dc that could bear repeating in the alamo city, as well. i'm trying to keep it all in perspective, and remembering that austing and dc were their own experiences, and not everything has to be replicated. it's a lot like packing--keeping, sorting, throwing away, reusing, regifting, etc. thank goodness i've learned something to apply, huh?
life is good. it is very full. and as i look toward next thursday with some sense of nostalgia and an insatiable hunger for pecan pie, i have many things for which to be thankful, the challenge before me among the foremost. you can be sure this is the first of many posts. you can also be sure that i will try and tell you as many funny stories about the mishaps i'm sure i'll be working on just as soon as they happen. i am on a great adventure.
mil besos--rmg
02 November 2006
long story short
i got the job. we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief that the prayers and the twin-sets worked their mojo. i start on the 15th. and i've already started looking for houses and making plans. this is going to be the biggest job i've ever done, in scope, function, emotional investment, etc. i'm excited, hopeful, a little scared, and more than anything, ready to do something. i didn't even have to dicker on my salary package. i have slept better in the last 4 days than i have in a solid month.
i got to put my nephew to sleep last week. that was pretty spectacular. this little scrap of a boy who looks so much like my father, so much like my brother, but is entirely himself, and who loves me, just because i come see him and rock him to sleep sometimes. he's teething, and it's pretty relentless, apparently. i'm very grateful not to remember my teething days. talk about being cranky...it took me singing most of the songs on james taylor's greatest hits, and a couple of elton john songs to get the little monster to shut it down for the night. and even though the 25 pounds of need that is my little nephew didn't go to sleep for two hours, and my arms were a little sore from holding him, i wouldn't have traded that time for any job, or amount of money, or relationship...it was utterly priceless. i think that child has a mark on me, invisible, but deep and abiding, and it's amazing how i feel about him, even though i didn't grow him or bring him into the world. i start to run out of words when i try to talk about that, even in my journal. it's bigger than that, i guess.
life is so full right now, with comings and goings, adjustments, moves, hellos and goodbyes. my 15 year old dog is not doing well, and that's kind of sad. mostly i'm sad for my momma, because beau has been her fur-baby since my brother and i left home. and i know that him shuffling loose the mortal coil will be hard on her, and that makes me sad. beau is a good dog, not the fetch kind of dog, but the love on you kind of dog. beau is the kind of dog that will curl up in your lap or at your feet and watch all of the godfather movies in a row and eat popcorn with you. he's old, he smells, he has fluid around his heart, and his one joy in life is a tie between licking the cat's butt or eating out of the cat's litter box. he also likes trying to chase down deer, but he's older and slower, and mostly just tries to cover their scent when he goes for a walk. he's a mutt, through and through, and as much as he's peed on the corner of my bed and barked me out of bed in the mornings, shoved me off the couch, etc., i adore that dog. there will never be one as good as beau, again. and that's ok. life is a wheel, and we are all on it, fur friends, and otherwise.
mil besos--rmg
i got to put my nephew to sleep last week. that was pretty spectacular. this little scrap of a boy who looks so much like my father, so much like my brother, but is entirely himself, and who loves me, just because i come see him and rock him to sleep sometimes. he's teething, and it's pretty relentless, apparently. i'm very grateful not to remember my teething days. talk about being cranky...it took me singing most of the songs on james taylor's greatest hits, and a couple of elton john songs to get the little monster to shut it down for the night. and even though the 25 pounds of need that is my little nephew didn't go to sleep for two hours, and my arms were a little sore from holding him, i wouldn't have traded that time for any job, or amount of money, or relationship...it was utterly priceless. i think that child has a mark on me, invisible, but deep and abiding, and it's amazing how i feel about him, even though i didn't grow him or bring him into the world. i start to run out of words when i try to talk about that, even in my journal. it's bigger than that, i guess.
life is so full right now, with comings and goings, adjustments, moves, hellos and goodbyes. my 15 year old dog is not doing well, and that's kind of sad. mostly i'm sad for my momma, because beau has been her fur-baby since my brother and i left home. and i know that him shuffling loose the mortal coil will be hard on her, and that makes me sad. beau is a good dog, not the fetch kind of dog, but the love on you kind of dog. beau is the kind of dog that will curl up in your lap or at your feet and watch all of the godfather movies in a row and eat popcorn with you. he's old, he smells, he has fluid around his heart, and his one joy in life is a tie between licking the cat's butt or eating out of the cat's litter box. he also likes trying to chase down deer, but he's older and slower, and mostly just tries to cover their scent when he goes for a walk. he's a mutt, through and through, and as much as he's peed on the corner of my bed and barked me out of bed in the mornings, shoved me off the couch, etc., i adore that dog. there will never be one as good as beau, again. and that's ok. life is a wheel, and we are all on it, fur friends, and otherwise.
mil besos--rmg
17 October 2006
i am a drain on society
i have offically become a statistic. as of yesterday, i am unemployed. did i mention that i also don't have health insurance, at the moment? good news is that i made my car payment this month, and next month looks like it's going to make it, so i'm not worried, yet.
i have my second interview with what i am calling "el trabajo magnificante", which means "the magnificent job" in spanish. i imagine peggy hill saying that inside my head everytime. the interview is tomorrow evening, and the committee was kind enough to request that i bring questions, as well, this time. God can only know what devious script they may have up their sleeves tomorrow night. for those of you playing the at home edition of "rachel grows up", you'll need to know that i'll be wearing my brown twin set to the interview.
i never thought i would be irritated by free time. but it is really hard for me to just knock around and not do anything on any kind of a schedule. ok, wait, the sleeping until i wake up part is really, really, really nice. and yesterday, i took a nap, just because i could. other than that, it's bizarre and a little unsettling. so, since i can't have idle time, because it's a waste, and waste is a sin, i've been busy doing random things. i did laundry this morning, and i've gone to work on two carepackages for two folks who certainly seem to need them of late. btw, if you want a cd or a collage or something like that made by yours truly, now is definately the time to ask, because by november 1st, i will either have "el trabajo magnificante" or i will be making coffee drinks and bussing tables somewhere in the area.
my nephew has three teeth, now. little tiny pearls that just barely crack the surface of his pink gums. you can see them when he throws his head back. it's amazing to me how engaged he is, how intently he watches everything around him, and how easy it was to teach him "uh oh". can you imagine what i could teach the little critter if i had full access to him on a daily basis...oh the trouble i could get into...
the interview looms large, and i'm doing things to keep myself from thinking about it, trying to come up with thoughtful questions, trying to put myself in the committee situation, trying to formulate brilliant answers to questions i can't imagine. this is hard. i want this job. i want this job. i really freaking want this job. and i want all the stuff that goes with it, i think, as well. it's so hard not to pin hope to this. walking that fine line between optimism and realism has never been my forte. i always end up becoming sort of pessimistic, in an effort to steel myself for disappointment, etc. in fact, i do that with pretty much everything. guess it's kind of like that old maxim "blessed are those who expect nothing, for they shall never be disappointed". hope is a good thing, but it is dangerous and wild.
i'm serious about those projects...you know how nutty i can be with too much free time...i might end up just blogging myself into insanity...
mil besos--rmg
i have my second interview with what i am calling "el trabajo magnificante", which means "the magnificent job" in spanish. i imagine peggy hill saying that inside my head everytime. the interview is tomorrow evening, and the committee was kind enough to request that i bring questions, as well, this time. God can only know what devious script they may have up their sleeves tomorrow night. for those of you playing the at home edition of "rachel grows up", you'll need to know that i'll be wearing my brown twin set to the interview.
i never thought i would be irritated by free time. but it is really hard for me to just knock around and not do anything on any kind of a schedule. ok, wait, the sleeping until i wake up part is really, really, really nice. and yesterday, i took a nap, just because i could. other than that, it's bizarre and a little unsettling. so, since i can't have idle time, because it's a waste, and waste is a sin, i've been busy doing random things. i did laundry this morning, and i've gone to work on two carepackages for two folks who certainly seem to need them of late. btw, if you want a cd or a collage or something like that made by yours truly, now is definately the time to ask, because by november 1st, i will either have "el trabajo magnificante" or i will be making coffee drinks and bussing tables somewhere in the area.
my nephew has three teeth, now. little tiny pearls that just barely crack the surface of his pink gums. you can see them when he throws his head back. it's amazing to me how engaged he is, how intently he watches everything around him, and how easy it was to teach him "uh oh". can you imagine what i could teach the little critter if i had full access to him on a daily basis...oh the trouble i could get into...
the interview looms large, and i'm doing things to keep myself from thinking about it, trying to come up with thoughtful questions, trying to put myself in the committee situation, trying to formulate brilliant answers to questions i can't imagine. this is hard. i want this job. i want this job. i really freaking want this job. and i want all the stuff that goes with it, i think, as well. it's so hard not to pin hope to this. walking that fine line between optimism and realism has never been my forte. i always end up becoming sort of pessimistic, in an effort to steel myself for disappointment, etc. in fact, i do that with pretty much everything. guess it's kind of like that old maxim "blessed are those who expect nothing, for they shall never be disappointed". hope is a good thing, but it is dangerous and wild.
i'm serious about those projects...you know how nutty i can be with too much free time...i might end up just blogging myself into insanity...
mil besos--rmg
24 September 2006
rachiepoo goes to an interview...
well, i'm sure you're wondering how things went... so am i. the perspective boss man is off to his sister-in-law's wedding in mexico, so i'm assuming he's not going to be calling in the next 7-9 days. that's the short answer.
the abriviated answer isn't much more revealing. basically, i can tell you that it was either the best or worst interview i've ever done in my life. let me tell you why i think so. i'll set the stage...the interviewing committee was three older ladies and one older gentleman. two looked like pretty easy sells, the other two, not so much. and one showed up 20 minutes late, because this person forgot they were interviewing me. (did i mention the fact that i was EXACTLY on time? not too early, not too late, just right. and i was not overcaffineated or undersleeped. i know that's not a word, but i think it's pretty inventive. i get extra points. ) needless to say, i felt like i should have gotten a gimme point or three for participating in somewhat mindless chatter with the other three until the fourth interviewer arrived. all i can say is thank God and the baby Jesus i was raised in the south and can make idle chitchat with anyone for at least 20 minutes. in that time, you can discover that you actually know people in common, have had some common experience, and make a nice comment on the other parties experience or outfit, and still have it come off as being nice AND engaging. the interviewing room was horribly set up. i felt like i was selling avon, and had forgotten my flow charts. but i crossed my ankles, took a deep breath, and tried to answer their questions. did i mention they had a SCRIPT?
yes, yes, a script. and they were nuts about it. and i have to say, if i get this job, i will find out who created those questions, and pray for the salvation of their itty bitty cold hard hearts. here's my favorite question (with no preface, examples, ect.) "How do you meet people?" are you KIDDING me? thank good ness i got that problem with my inner monologue becoming my outter monologue, because i might have embarrassed myself with a totally inappropriate response, somewhere along the lines of like "You mean like in a bar?" i was terribly glad to find out that i did not have a mouth full of water, because i might have given the panel a shamu-like showering upon hearing the question.
i waited about ten second to see if the person who was rapidly becoming known as "the grand inquisitor" inside my head to finish asking the question. she didn't. that was it. it was hard, difficult, painful, almost to not rattle off the legion of smart-ass answers that begged to come tripping so easily off my tongue. i answered, in my best "please hire me, because i am a budding genius with a wonderful and compassionate heart who wants to save the world and love Jesus" voice, that the way i met people was to look them in the eye, tell them my name, shake their hand, and try to find some common ground to talk about. what a plastic answer to an impossibly plastic question. oy and vey. i have never felt more goofy in my entire adult life. seriously. not even at camp. not even with shaving cream in my hair. not even the time i got so tickled that i wet my pants in a room full of my peers.
"how do you meet people?" seriously, what did they expect me to say? "well, first i dance around like a goon, and then we open up the liquor, roll up some doobies, and see where the experience takes us. did i mention that i'm currently enrolled in a pole dancing class at SAC?" "i'm agoraphobic, so most of my relationships are based on typing speed and internet connectivity." "i was raised by a pack of wild dogs, so i'm mostly into ear nipping and unashamed ass-sniffing, followed by peeing on whatever stands still and doesn't smell familiar to me." "i already know everyone. i'm just that good. the masses flock to me. what can i say? i'm more popular than anyone you've ever met. and the only reason you haven't met me yet, is so you can meet me now, and be overawed by my personhood."
i have to say that the questions did get a little bit better. but i've never been in an all-by-the-script interview. they didn't even ask follow up questions. which either means that i answered every question perfectly, to their entire satisfaction, or i screwed the answers up so badly, they didn't care to hear more from me. i think the truth is hopefully somewhere closer to the first...at least, i hope so. i walked out feeling like i needed a stiff drink. so i went home and took a nap, instead. i'll keep you posted.
i hope like hell i got this job, because if that is what interview panels are like everywhere, now, i have got to take a class or something.
mil besos--rmg
the abriviated answer isn't much more revealing. basically, i can tell you that it was either the best or worst interview i've ever done in my life. let me tell you why i think so. i'll set the stage...the interviewing committee was three older ladies and one older gentleman. two looked like pretty easy sells, the other two, not so much. and one showed up 20 minutes late, because this person forgot they were interviewing me. (did i mention the fact that i was EXACTLY on time? not too early, not too late, just right. and i was not overcaffineated or undersleeped. i know that's not a word, but i think it's pretty inventive. i get extra points. ) needless to say, i felt like i should have gotten a gimme point or three for participating in somewhat mindless chatter with the other three until the fourth interviewer arrived. all i can say is thank God and the baby Jesus i was raised in the south and can make idle chitchat with anyone for at least 20 minutes. in that time, you can discover that you actually know people in common, have had some common experience, and make a nice comment on the other parties experience or outfit, and still have it come off as being nice AND engaging. the interviewing room was horribly set up. i felt like i was selling avon, and had forgotten my flow charts. but i crossed my ankles, took a deep breath, and tried to answer their questions. did i mention they had a SCRIPT?
yes, yes, a script. and they were nuts about it. and i have to say, if i get this job, i will find out who created those questions, and pray for the salvation of their itty bitty cold hard hearts. here's my favorite question (with no preface, examples, ect.) "How do you meet people?" are you KIDDING me? thank good ness i got that problem with my inner monologue becoming my outter monologue, because i might have embarrassed myself with a totally inappropriate response, somewhere along the lines of like "You mean like in a bar?" i was terribly glad to find out that i did not have a mouth full of water, because i might have given the panel a shamu-like showering upon hearing the question.
i waited about ten second to see if the person who was rapidly becoming known as "the grand inquisitor" inside my head to finish asking the question. she didn't. that was it. it was hard, difficult, painful, almost to not rattle off the legion of smart-ass answers that begged to come tripping so easily off my tongue. i answered, in my best "please hire me, because i am a budding genius with a wonderful and compassionate heart who wants to save the world and love Jesus" voice, that the way i met people was to look them in the eye, tell them my name, shake their hand, and try to find some common ground to talk about. what a plastic answer to an impossibly plastic question. oy and vey. i have never felt more goofy in my entire adult life. seriously. not even at camp. not even with shaving cream in my hair. not even the time i got so tickled that i wet my pants in a room full of my peers.
"how do you meet people?" seriously, what did they expect me to say? "well, first i dance around like a goon, and then we open up the liquor, roll up some doobies, and see where the experience takes us. did i mention that i'm currently enrolled in a pole dancing class at SAC?" "i'm agoraphobic, so most of my relationships are based on typing speed and internet connectivity." "i was raised by a pack of wild dogs, so i'm mostly into ear nipping and unashamed ass-sniffing, followed by peeing on whatever stands still and doesn't smell familiar to me." "i already know everyone. i'm just that good. the masses flock to me. what can i say? i'm more popular than anyone you've ever met. and the only reason you haven't met me yet, is so you can meet me now, and be overawed by my personhood."
i have to say that the questions did get a little bit better. but i've never been in an all-by-the-script interview. they didn't even ask follow up questions. which either means that i answered every question perfectly, to their entire satisfaction, or i screwed the answers up so badly, they didn't care to hear more from me. i think the truth is hopefully somewhere closer to the first...at least, i hope so. i walked out feeling like i needed a stiff drink. so i went home and took a nap, instead. i'll keep you posted.
i hope like hell i got this job, because if that is what interview panels are like everywhere, now, i have got to take a class or something.
mil besos--rmg
21 September 2006
*insert catchy title here*
i have a job interview on saturday morning. i know, who in his or her right mind goes to a job interview on saturday morning? well, i think we can all atest to my being a little, well, um, quirky. so saturday it is. momma bought me a new blue twinset and some black pants, so i can look like the professional i know is lurking deep inside me, somewhere. i feel like there is a lot riding on this interview. probably because there IS a lot riding on this interview. not like my whole existance as a human being, or anything like that...but i really think i want this job. i think i could do the job, and do it well, and feel like i was doing something worth while, and not just muddling along. we can hope. hope is a good thing, dangerous, but good.
i can't believe i'm almost 28. that's so bizarre to me, on many levels, not the least of which is that it seems SO OLD and SO YOUNG, at the same time. when did my life turn into a lesson in dichotomy? or is that one of those lessons we all learn as we get older? i'm rambling, again, i know...
i know that if this job doesn't pan out, others will. i know that i'm going to be ok, regardless. i know that. that doesn't make me not want to stomp my foot and demand that this thing go my way, though. so much for maturity...it's so over-rated. but i keep having visions of what this time next year might be like, and they are pretty nice. i'll spare you the details, and just fill you in later.
at least i interview well. i've even got a medal or two from high school to prove that fact. i can probably dig them out of my trunk and show you, if you don't believe me. a gold one, even. i'm that good. i just have to remember not to fidget, and hope that i don't get the giggles or slip and say something totally off color, which i will think is funny, but falls flat on the room. and i have to remember to be honest, but not spill my guts about what i really think about things. and not fidget. that's the worst. that means that i won't be allowed to wear jewlery below the neck, and should avoid painting my nails, because that will just give me something to pick at. and if they offer me coffee, not to shred the napkin into tiny little pieces. i would be a horrible poker player. i have no game. i secretly just want them to like me and think i am a genius and hire me on the spot. two out of three wouldn't be bad...
so, here's to hope. keep you fingers crossed. we need a homerun, gang.
mil besos--rmg
i can't believe i'm almost 28. that's so bizarre to me, on many levels, not the least of which is that it seems SO OLD and SO YOUNG, at the same time. when did my life turn into a lesson in dichotomy? or is that one of those lessons we all learn as we get older? i'm rambling, again, i know...
i know that if this job doesn't pan out, others will. i know that i'm going to be ok, regardless. i know that. that doesn't make me not want to stomp my foot and demand that this thing go my way, though. so much for maturity...it's so over-rated. but i keep having visions of what this time next year might be like, and they are pretty nice. i'll spare you the details, and just fill you in later.
at least i interview well. i've even got a medal or two from high school to prove that fact. i can probably dig them out of my trunk and show you, if you don't believe me. a gold one, even. i'm that good. i just have to remember not to fidget, and hope that i don't get the giggles or slip and say something totally off color, which i will think is funny, but falls flat on the room. and i have to remember to be honest, but not spill my guts about what i really think about things. and not fidget. that's the worst. that means that i won't be allowed to wear jewlery below the neck, and should avoid painting my nails, because that will just give me something to pick at. and if they offer me coffee, not to shred the napkin into tiny little pieces. i would be a horrible poker player. i have no game. i secretly just want them to like me and think i am a genius and hire me on the spot. two out of three wouldn't be bad...
so, here's to hope. keep you fingers crossed. we need a homerun, gang.
mil besos--rmg
11 September 2006
thoughts on waking
it's midnight, and i can't sleep, again. seems like my sleep cycle is all wacked out, probably from too many naps induced by two weeks on antibiotics and allergies that won't quit. and then there's the thought of that red plaid shirt, sitting under my chair, in a quiet corner of the room. i love that shirt. it's one of my favorites. but everytime i wear it, i remember the first time i wore it, and it changes everything.
i know there are a lot of people who will be blogging about september 11, today. i guess i'll just cast my lot with them, and tell you what i remember, what i learned, and what i hope it all means.
i spent the day before doing day-off kind of things. i bought my first cell phone, fixed dinner for my roommates, and stayed up watching the news. i woke up sometime around 8 or so, to the alarm clock, with the radio disc jockey mumbling something bizarre in my ear about snipers on rooftops, which i assumed was just another stupid radio escapade to boost ratings. my allergies were bothering me on that morning, too, so i decided to reset the alarm for 9:30 and see how i felt, and maybe call in to work. i think i had been asleep for maybe 5 minutes when the phone in our apartment started ringing off the hook.
i stumbled into the hallway, and grabbed the phone, right about the time my roommate caroline opened her door. celeste was on the phone, practically hysterically telling me something about planes and new york, and that i needed to turn on the tv NOW. caro had a tv in her room, and we immediately turned it on. you know what we saw. it was incredible. we stood there at the foot of her bed, watching the tv, in utter amazement. we grabbed hands, like two little girls in our pj's and cried. we didn't even know what was going on at that point. not really, anyway. i have no idea how long we stood there, but i remember watching the south tower come down, and having that feeling like i absolutely couldn't believe what i was seeing. i didn't believe my eyes. i couldn't. i didn't want to.
i called work. i was told to dress and drive as quickly and safely as i could into the office. i think i asked caroline if she wanted to go with me, but i think she said she would stay at home and wait for our other roommate chris to call home. chris's sister lived and worked in lower manhattan. it was surreal.
i drove down 183, and passed businesses who'd already lowered their flags to half-staff. i listened to the radio, understanding perfectly well what the dj's had meant when i turned them off earlier that morning. it was an otherworldly drive into work. the roads were wide open. all the radio stations had switched to their news affliates. there was no music, no morning hi-jinks, no commercials, no relief, nothing but wall to wall to wall to wall information. and even that was spotty, at best.
i got to work in my red plaid shirt, cut princess style, with three-quarter sleeves. i remember getting out of my car and thinking that this would be one of the days where i remembered everything--what i was wearing, what i did, who i saw, who i talked to and who i couldn't reach. i had been in dc a month ago, had lived there. i had friends who still lived there. i couldn't reach them. couldn't even get the phone to ring.
work, at the church, was chaotic, at best. we had a tv plugged in and rigged to get a channel or two in nancy's office. we all went to work answering phones. i finally got totally overstimulated and went to cry in my office, across the yard from the main building. i turned on the tv in there, and saw press conferences, replayed images of what became 4 crashes and crash sites. i heard body counts, etc. what i remembered was no sense of relief at all. there were no commercials, which i found oddly disconcerting. it just never stopped. i remember many phone calls to my family that day...over and over, just brief little calls, just checking in.
i got home that night, after what seemed like years at work. i canceled plans with some friends from college. i was just to strung out to be around people. chris finally heard from her sister, so we all breathed a sigh of relief. i heard from my friend hope, who was shaken up, but ok in dc. we heard from a friend of chris's that worked on capital hill that as he was driving up mass ave, after his office was evacuated, that he felt the concussion of the plane that hit the pentagon. hope said that there were machine gun turrets set up all around dc, that there were guys in camo on every street corner. that she didn't know what was happening, but that the office shut down for the day, and that never happened. i remember being glad that hope and i had gone and donated blood in august, before i moved back home. my aunt and uncle were in las vegas that weekend. they were supposed to fly out on the 11th, but their flight got cancelled. my uncle says that he saw a guy offer a cabbie $6000 to drive him all the way home to Chicago. he and my aunt waited three days to get out of vegas. caroline missed one of her best friend's wedding. we watched tv late into the night, every night, and drank a lot of hot tea.
i remember the days that followed. i remember faces on tv, names of people missing, smoldering piles of buildings, and the intensity of the panic surrounding it all. i remember watching the news, not just because that was all that was on, but because that was all i wanted to watch. i remember logging onto the cnn.com website every thirty minutes, and checking the news wires. i had nightmares for a long time. still do, some nights.
i guess it was the same day the president presided at the memorial service at national cathedral that i realized things were going to be different from then on. strange how it took me a whole week. i knew (and still know) people who lost dear friends, people who lost family members, people who lost jobs, etc. i watched a city that i dearly loved and lived in and another city i idealized and dreamed about be turned upside down and cut to pieces. it seemed so surreal, like at any moment, someone would come on the tv, and say, ha ha, this national disaster drill was a test, and only a test...instead the news played on, the memorial service tied up, and all of the sudden, a seinfeld re-run picked up in mid course on the picture screen. it was so bizarre. so unsettling. but oddly perfect, in a horrible belch-out loud-at-the-dinner party-because- you're-stumbling-drunk kind of way. i looked at the screen, with george and elaine going nuts over george's tupee, and i burst into tears. i think i was most afraid that everything was going back to normal, and that nothing would ever be normal again.
september 11th is one of those benchmark days. i wasn't alive when pearl harbour was bombed, when jfk was assassinated, or when elvis died. i remember what the world was like on september 10th, and i will never be able to give that to my children. and even if it was just a mirage, even if we were never as safe and secure as we thought we were, i wish for just a minute we could hold our breaths and feel that way, again. and at the same time, i'm glad we don't harbour that illusion any longer.
the truth of the matter is that i don't think any of us are sure about what the legacy of september 11th is or will be. i think that we all have so many unanswered and unasked questions about the nature of ourselves and how we relate to the world to begin defining a legacy. (you can read more about the lives of people who were lost that day at http://www.dcroe.com/2996/. my good friend tpon has a great blog up about her and her husband's friend, christopher mello, at prolly.blogs.com.)
what i do know is that 2,996 people were killed that day. while their deaths are heartbreaking, appalling, and horribly unfair, i think the legacy we have to build is about their lives, who they were, and what they meant. and we have to start living out of an attitude of love and hope, not one of fear and pessimism. we have to start behaving that way, as well, on a personal level, with the people we see on the streets, in our offices, at school, on the bus, in traffic, in restaurants, etc. this world is reminded every day of how awful we can be to each other. we can do better. we must do better. we owe it to our brothers and sisters who died 5 years ago. and we owe it to a loving and precious savior who stretched out his arms, and loved us into wholeness, and calls us to be holy.
it's 1am. there's a little boy who knows nothing of this event, nothing of this blog, nothing of the world except what God whispers in his ear, who's waiting to see me at 6am, so i can get him ready for another day of school. but if i could tell him one thing it would be that i believe there is enough love in this world to overcome all the hate. i believe that.
mil besos--rmg
i know there are a lot of people who will be blogging about september 11, today. i guess i'll just cast my lot with them, and tell you what i remember, what i learned, and what i hope it all means.
i spent the day before doing day-off kind of things. i bought my first cell phone, fixed dinner for my roommates, and stayed up watching the news. i woke up sometime around 8 or so, to the alarm clock, with the radio disc jockey mumbling something bizarre in my ear about snipers on rooftops, which i assumed was just another stupid radio escapade to boost ratings. my allergies were bothering me on that morning, too, so i decided to reset the alarm for 9:30 and see how i felt, and maybe call in to work. i think i had been asleep for maybe 5 minutes when the phone in our apartment started ringing off the hook.
i stumbled into the hallway, and grabbed the phone, right about the time my roommate caroline opened her door. celeste was on the phone, practically hysterically telling me something about planes and new york, and that i needed to turn on the tv NOW. caro had a tv in her room, and we immediately turned it on. you know what we saw. it was incredible. we stood there at the foot of her bed, watching the tv, in utter amazement. we grabbed hands, like two little girls in our pj's and cried. we didn't even know what was going on at that point. not really, anyway. i have no idea how long we stood there, but i remember watching the south tower come down, and having that feeling like i absolutely couldn't believe what i was seeing. i didn't believe my eyes. i couldn't. i didn't want to.
i called work. i was told to dress and drive as quickly and safely as i could into the office. i think i asked caroline if she wanted to go with me, but i think she said she would stay at home and wait for our other roommate chris to call home. chris's sister lived and worked in lower manhattan. it was surreal.
i drove down 183, and passed businesses who'd already lowered their flags to half-staff. i listened to the radio, understanding perfectly well what the dj's had meant when i turned them off earlier that morning. it was an otherworldly drive into work. the roads were wide open. all the radio stations had switched to their news affliates. there was no music, no morning hi-jinks, no commercials, no relief, nothing but wall to wall to wall to wall information. and even that was spotty, at best.
i got to work in my red plaid shirt, cut princess style, with three-quarter sleeves. i remember getting out of my car and thinking that this would be one of the days where i remembered everything--what i was wearing, what i did, who i saw, who i talked to and who i couldn't reach. i had been in dc a month ago, had lived there. i had friends who still lived there. i couldn't reach them. couldn't even get the phone to ring.
work, at the church, was chaotic, at best. we had a tv plugged in and rigged to get a channel or two in nancy's office. we all went to work answering phones. i finally got totally overstimulated and went to cry in my office, across the yard from the main building. i turned on the tv in there, and saw press conferences, replayed images of what became 4 crashes and crash sites. i heard body counts, etc. what i remembered was no sense of relief at all. there were no commercials, which i found oddly disconcerting. it just never stopped. i remember many phone calls to my family that day...over and over, just brief little calls, just checking in.
i got home that night, after what seemed like years at work. i canceled plans with some friends from college. i was just to strung out to be around people. chris finally heard from her sister, so we all breathed a sigh of relief. i heard from my friend hope, who was shaken up, but ok in dc. we heard from a friend of chris's that worked on capital hill that as he was driving up mass ave, after his office was evacuated, that he felt the concussion of the plane that hit the pentagon. hope said that there were machine gun turrets set up all around dc, that there were guys in camo on every street corner. that she didn't know what was happening, but that the office shut down for the day, and that never happened. i remember being glad that hope and i had gone and donated blood in august, before i moved back home. my aunt and uncle were in las vegas that weekend. they were supposed to fly out on the 11th, but their flight got cancelled. my uncle says that he saw a guy offer a cabbie $6000 to drive him all the way home to Chicago. he and my aunt waited three days to get out of vegas. caroline missed one of her best friend's wedding. we watched tv late into the night, every night, and drank a lot of hot tea.
i remember the days that followed. i remember faces on tv, names of people missing, smoldering piles of buildings, and the intensity of the panic surrounding it all. i remember watching the news, not just because that was all that was on, but because that was all i wanted to watch. i remember logging onto the cnn.com website every thirty minutes, and checking the news wires. i had nightmares for a long time. still do, some nights.
i guess it was the same day the president presided at the memorial service at national cathedral that i realized things were going to be different from then on. strange how it took me a whole week. i knew (and still know) people who lost dear friends, people who lost family members, people who lost jobs, etc. i watched a city that i dearly loved and lived in and another city i idealized and dreamed about be turned upside down and cut to pieces. it seemed so surreal, like at any moment, someone would come on the tv, and say, ha ha, this national disaster drill was a test, and only a test...instead the news played on, the memorial service tied up, and all of the sudden, a seinfeld re-run picked up in mid course on the picture screen. it was so bizarre. so unsettling. but oddly perfect, in a horrible belch-out loud-at-the-dinner party-because- you're-stumbling-drunk kind of way. i looked at the screen, with george and elaine going nuts over george's tupee, and i burst into tears. i think i was most afraid that everything was going back to normal, and that nothing would ever be normal again.
september 11th is one of those benchmark days. i wasn't alive when pearl harbour was bombed, when jfk was assassinated, or when elvis died. i remember what the world was like on september 10th, and i will never be able to give that to my children. and even if it was just a mirage, even if we were never as safe and secure as we thought we were, i wish for just a minute we could hold our breaths and feel that way, again. and at the same time, i'm glad we don't harbour that illusion any longer.
the truth of the matter is that i don't think any of us are sure about what the legacy of september 11th is or will be. i think that we all have so many unanswered and unasked questions about the nature of ourselves and how we relate to the world to begin defining a legacy. (you can read more about the lives of people who were lost that day at http://www.dcroe.com/2996/. my good friend tpon has a great blog up about her and her husband's friend, christopher mello, at prolly.blogs.com.)
what i do know is that 2,996 people were killed that day. while their deaths are heartbreaking, appalling, and horribly unfair, i think the legacy we have to build is about their lives, who they were, and what they meant. and we have to start living out of an attitude of love and hope, not one of fear and pessimism. we have to start behaving that way, as well, on a personal level, with the people we see on the streets, in our offices, at school, on the bus, in traffic, in restaurants, etc. this world is reminded every day of how awful we can be to each other. we can do better. we must do better. we owe it to our brothers and sisters who died 5 years ago. and we owe it to a loving and precious savior who stretched out his arms, and loved us into wholeness, and calls us to be holy.
it's 1am. there's a little boy who knows nothing of this event, nothing of this blog, nothing of the world except what God whispers in his ear, who's waiting to see me at 6am, so i can get him ready for another day of school. but if i could tell him one thing it would be that i believe there is enough love in this world to overcome all the hate. i believe that.
mil besos--rmg
06 September 2006
30 August 2006
back in the saddle
geeze louise. it's hard to believe this summer really happened. it's like i stepped out of camp and right back into life before may 27th. it's not like that, that's exactly what happened. and i'm mostly ok with that, for now. sort of.
i still have no idea what i want to be, or do, etc. but i have started circulating my resume around, and am scouring craigslist and the statesman frantically searching for something i might be qualified to do that might also accidentally pay some bills. cross your fingers and light those candles. i need all the help i can get, at this point. top that off with getting an ear infection for the first time in about 20 years, and you can imagine that this week has been a little on the frustrating side of life. but i will live.
it's amazing to think that ten years ago, i was starting my senior year in high school. all that is behind me was before me, and i had not the slightest clue about anything. i remember feeling like 18 was so old and so worldly. staring down the proverbial barrel of 28, i look at 18 year olds and envy them a little of their innocence and wonderment, and false sense of maturity. honey, what i didn't know then could have filled a book. still could, if the truth be told. but it's so funny to me that it didn't feel that way at all. maybe i've been watching too many felicity re-runs to be making any sense at all.
i have got to stop watching that show--it's of the devil, i swear. it's just so charming, so mind-numbing, and it comes on back to back every afternoon. damn you, time warner cable and the we network, damn you straight to hell and back. just don't change up your programming schedule until we get to the end of season 4, ok?
i guess what really bothers me about all this angst concerning jobs and living spaces and 401k's and relationships, etc. is that i keep wondering when people are going to stop being patient with me about all of it. when do i finally get the big talk about fishing or cutting bait? i know i've given it to myself about 10 thousand times, but i still come up with a new plan every six months, but nothing seems to stick. maybe that means that i really am one of those vagabond people who are just going to drift from random thing to random thing, and die without ever having a real career or doing something solid for 20 years, and getting a nice watch and a plaque with my name on it. maybe it means that i haven't looked in the right corner yet, that i'm still searching out the thing i'm supposed to do. i wish i could get paid to write this thing, because i'd sure as hell update it alot more than i do, and i would use spellcheck much more faithfully. anyway, it's past my bedtime, and since baby a has got to be on the bus at 6:50am tomorrow morning, and i'm finally settling into reading "on the road" for about the 40-eleventh time, and am determined to finish it, by hook or by crook, i'll shut this rambler down.
if you have the chance, i highly suggest picking up the new issue of rolling stone magazine. bob dylan is on the cover, and that should be enough inducement for anyone.
mil besos--rmg
i still have no idea what i want to be, or do, etc. but i have started circulating my resume around, and am scouring craigslist and the statesman frantically searching for something i might be qualified to do that might also accidentally pay some bills. cross your fingers and light those candles. i need all the help i can get, at this point. top that off with getting an ear infection for the first time in about 20 years, and you can imagine that this week has been a little on the frustrating side of life. but i will live.
it's amazing to think that ten years ago, i was starting my senior year in high school. all that is behind me was before me, and i had not the slightest clue about anything. i remember feeling like 18 was so old and so worldly. staring down the proverbial barrel of 28, i look at 18 year olds and envy them a little of their innocence and wonderment, and false sense of maturity. honey, what i didn't know then could have filled a book. still could, if the truth be told. but it's so funny to me that it didn't feel that way at all. maybe i've been watching too many felicity re-runs to be making any sense at all.
i have got to stop watching that show--it's of the devil, i swear. it's just so charming, so mind-numbing, and it comes on back to back every afternoon. damn you, time warner cable and the we network, damn you straight to hell and back. just don't change up your programming schedule until we get to the end of season 4, ok?
i guess what really bothers me about all this angst concerning jobs and living spaces and 401k's and relationships, etc. is that i keep wondering when people are going to stop being patient with me about all of it. when do i finally get the big talk about fishing or cutting bait? i know i've given it to myself about 10 thousand times, but i still come up with a new plan every six months, but nothing seems to stick. maybe that means that i really am one of those vagabond people who are just going to drift from random thing to random thing, and die without ever having a real career or doing something solid for 20 years, and getting a nice watch and a plaque with my name on it. maybe it means that i haven't looked in the right corner yet, that i'm still searching out the thing i'm supposed to do. i wish i could get paid to write this thing, because i'd sure as hell update it alot more than i do, and i would use spellcheck much more faithfully. anyway, it's past my bedtime, and since baby a has got to be on the bus at 6:50am tomorrow morning, and i'm finally settling into reading "on the road" for about the 40-eleventh time, and am determined to finish it, by hook or by crook, i'll shut this rambler down.
if you have the chance, i highly suggest picking up the new issue of rolling stone magazine. bob dylan is on the cover, and that should be enough inducement for anyone.
mil besos--rmg
11 August 2006
post card from the edge, vol. 7, or how i came home
"We die to each other daily.
What we know of other people
Is only our memory of the moments
During which we knew them.
And they have changed since then.
To pretend that they and we are the same
Is a useful and convenient social convention
Which must sometimes broken.
We must also remember
That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger." --ts eliot
i am coming home. in 26 hours, i will be finished with this job. it has been the hardest job of my life. and in the final analysis, i think i am most proud of this job. i can honestly say that i have nothing left to give of myself--not any more emotion, or thought, or effort. i am empty. and it feels good to know that. there has been room made for something else to fill me up. i have no idea what that something is, but i think for the first time in a long time, and maybe ever, i am ready to move onto something new. this experience closes a chapter in my life that has been a long time coming. blessed be.
i feel like i've sloughed off something of the old me, and i can't put my finger on it. i feel like i'm more confindent and more dependent and more vulnerable and stronger and more gentle than i have been in years. i feel like this is the real me, like maybe a lot of things before today and tomorrow and the next day were just practice. like now i'm ready to do real work, to be a real person, to really invest and jump into whatever my life is becoming, and stop holding back. it feels so good to just say that. to know that there is a point at which i can just jump, and know that i will be held, caught, and celebrated.
sometimes, when beauty and encouragment and knowledge and wisdom are right in front of you, you just miss it. so, mommy and momma cat and aunt nea and uncle ed, granny, papaw, seth, monica, will, esteban, caro, moo, and all the rest of you who love me and have been beating these lessons into my head for years-- i finally got it. this is life out loud. and i am turning the volume up. thanks be to God. i can't wait to see your faces, all your faces.
mil besos--rmg
What we know of other people
Is only our memory of the moments
During which we knew them.
And they have changed since then.
To pretend that they and we are the same
Is a useful and convenient social convention
Which must sometimes broken.
We must also remember
That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger." --ts eliot
i am coming home. in 26 hours, i will be finished with this job. it has been the hardest job of my life. and in the final analysis, i think i am most proud of this job. i can honestly say that i have nothing left to give of myself--not any more emotion, or thought, or effort. i am empty. and it feels good to know that. there has been room made for something else to fill me up. i have no idea what that something is, but i think for the first time in a long time, and maybe ever, i am ready to move onto something new. this experience closes a chapter in my life that has been a long time coming. blessed be.
i feel like i've sloughed off something of the old me, and i can't put my finger on it. i feel like i'm more confindent and more dependent and more vulnerable and stronger and more gentle than i have been in years. i feel like this is the real me, like maybe a lot of things before today and tomorrow and the next day were just practice. like now i'm ready to do real work, to be a real person, to really invest and jump into whatever my life is becoming, and stop holding back. it feels so good to just say that. to know that there is a point at which i can just jump, and know that i will be held, caught, and celebrated.
sometimes, when beauty and encouragment and knowledge and wisdom are right in front of you, you just miss it. so, mommy and momma cat and aunt nea and uncle ed, granny, papaw, seth, monica, will, esteban, caro, moo, and all the rest of you who love me and have been beating these lessons into my head for years-- i finally got it. this is life out loud. and i am turning the volume up. thanks be to God. i can't wait to see your faces, all your faces.
mil besos--rmg
04 August 2006
post card from the edge, vol. 6
it's been a long hot week at camp crazy. in fact, it's so hot that the snakes are crawling into the oddest of places to find refuge. i had to close our river front today. kind of made me a little sad to know that the river is closed for the rest of the summer, even though that's only 8 more days. 8 more days, friends and neighbors, and then i come home to do whatever it is that i'm supposed to do next. i'm so excited and nervous, and a little sad that the last three months have just flown by.
let me break this week down for you in the simplest of terms. i'll just do what my 7th grade history teacher called "hit the high spots".
1) my staff and i beat the hell out of the girl scouts, who have a camp down the road from us and were dumb enough to challenge us to a flag football game. we skunked them, proving once again that jesus saves, and girl scout cookies just make you fat. it was glorious. and my mom and grammy showed up to cheer us on, which i was particularly happy about. i just stopped being sore all over my body from where the scary girls hit me, over and over and over, because cheating was the only way they were going to win. ha ha. it was amazing.
2) two of my kitchen staff boys were stupid enough to put a roasted pig head in my toilet. upon discovering it, i screamed like a little girl, and utterly queened out. my friend jackie had to get it out for me, because i started gagging, and sarah made fun of me for screaming like a girl. it was awful.
3) in retribution for the pig head, i completed the greatest prank of my life, so far. i made jello in their toilet, and covered their bathroom floor in shaving cream. i had help, but it was my idea about the jello. this cannot be overstated. i made real, congealed jello in the toilet. i am so freaking proud of this. i might not be as proud of my child, if i have one, as i am of this prank, because it was genius. and i got to use dry ice. this proves, once again, that revenge is a dish best served cold. and 18 year olds were made to be stupid, and i've already assumed that i am going to be re-pranked, and have hatched a plan for my re-prank, as well. i'll keep you posted. it'll be hard to beat the jello, though.
4) i have convinced several small children of the existance of bulligators, a carry over from my childhood. my poppy convinced me that a bulligator lived in the ill-fated basement in the house i grew up in. a bulligator is a cross between a bulldog and an alligator, and it will bite your face off. it keeps them out of scary places. they love it. i heard someone talking about their pet bulligator today, and i rubbed my hands together, content that my plan to take over the universe is, in fact, working.
life is good. pray for rain.
mil besos--rmg
let me break this week down for you in the simplest of terms. i'll just do what my 7th grade history teacher called "hit the high spots".
1) my staff and i beat the hell out of the girl scouts, who have a camp down the road from us and were dumb enough to challenge us to a flag football game. we skunked them, proving once again that jesus saves, and girl scout cookies just make you fat. it was glorious. and my mom and grammy showed up to cheer us on, which i was particularly happy about. i just stopped being sore all over my body from where the scary girls hit me, over and over and over, because cheating was the only way they were going to win. ha ha. it was amazing.
2) two of my kitchen staff boys were stupid enough to put a roasted pig head in my toilet. upon discovering it, i screamed like a little girl, and utterly queened out. my friend jackie had to get it out for me, because i started gagging, and sarah made fun of me for screaming like a girl. it was awful.
3) in retribution for the pig head, i completed the greatest prank of my life, so far. i made jello in their toilet, and covered their bathroom floor in shaving cream. i had help, but it was my idea about the jello. this cannot be overstated. i made real, congealed jello in the toilet. i am so freaking proud of this. i might not be as proud of my child, if i have one, as i am of this prank, because it was genius. and i got to use dry ice. this proves, once again, that revenge is a dish best served cold. and 18 year olds were made to be stupid, and i've already assumed that i am going to be re-pranked, and have hatched a plan for my re-prank, as well. i'll keep you posted. it'll be hard to beat the jello, though.
4) i have convinced several small children of the existance of bulligators, a carry over from my childhood. my poppy convinced me that a bulligator lived in the ill-fated basement in the house i grew up in. a bulligator is a cross between a bulldog and an alligator, and it will bite your face off. it keeps them out of scary places. they love it. i heard someone talking about their pet bulligator today, and i rubbed my hands together, content that my plan to take over the universe is, in fact, working.
life is good. pray for rain.
mil besos--rmg
26 July 2006
post card from the edge, vol. 5
it's 9:40pm, tony bennett is on the cd player. if i had a glass of scotch in my hand, fresh from a bath, i'd never know i was at camp. i know that i will desperately miss this place when i am gone. i'm kind of ready for that feeling, right now. it's wednesday. this camp session isn't over until sunday at 10am (hint, hint for those of you who need some church and some face time with me), and i am just tired. today, i really felt tired, for the first time this whole summer. tired in my bones, like if i had to manage one more crisis, band-aid one more bruised ego, faciliate one more staff meeting, dry one more homesick tear, do one more load of sandy, wet clothing, i might just fall to pieces. that is not a luxury in which i am capable of indulging. so, i'm relishing every moment of this early evening, enjoying what has just become a nat king cole track (i got a classic ballads cd on my last break...), and thinking about folding clean laundry, so i can sleep on my bed tonight.
everything really is alright. this is not an s.o.s. this is just me being honest. i adore camp. this summer has made me remember more things that i can begin to list, learn more things than i imagined, and forced me to ask hard questions, the likes of which i am often breathless simply contemplating, much less actually confronting. i knew that this summer would do one of two things--it would either answer some questions or drag up new ones. i can honestly say that i have exactly two answers to questions i had at the beginning of the summer. and i can honestly tell you that i have about a million more questions than i did when i got here. and that's pretty amazing.
jim valvano was a coach for villanova when they won their first ncaa basketball championship. it was a cinderella story to end all cinderella stories. he was a hero of mine for a long, long time. before he died, he was on the espy awards, and talked about what it meant to live every day. he said that to really live every day, you had to laughed, cry, and think. i have lived more days out here this summer than i have in the past year. that one fact makes all the ego juggling, immaturity, maddening schedules, fussy parents, non-compliant teenagers, humidity, ant infestations, pool vacuums and rules, being rolled in the volleyball sand, eating the same meals week after week, getting grass in my hair, etc. absolutlely and totally 100% worth it. this is life, this is my day to day. whatever happens after august 14th, i will be grateful for this time in my life, come what may. i will never get this time back, and God helping me, i am trying to live, really live, every day, at camp or not. this is too amazing to allow it to stop when i go home and find out what life is outside of this place, again. i'm a little afraid, a little excited, but mostly just content to see what comes next, whenever it pokes it's head around the corner.
mil besos--rmg
everything really is alright. this is not an s.o.s. this is just me being honest. i adore camp. this summer has made me remember more things that i can begin to list, learn more things than i imagined, and forced me to ask hard questions, the likes of which i am often breathless simply contemplating, much less actually confronting. i knew that this summer would do one of two things--it would either answer some questions or drag up new ones. i can honestly say that i have exactly two answers to questions i had at the beginning of the summer. and i can honestly tell you that i have about a million more questions than i did when i got here. and that's pretty amazing.
jim valvano was a coach for villanova when they won their first ncaa basketball championship. it was a cinderella story to end all cinderella stories. he was a hero of mine for a long, long time. before he died, he was on the espy awards, and talked about what it meant to live every day. he said that to really live every day, you had to laughed, cry, and think. i have lived more days out here this summer than i have in the past year. that one fact makes all the ego juggling, immaturity, maddening schedules, fussy parents, non-compliant teenagers, humidity, ant infestations, pool vacuums and rules, being rolled in the volleyball sand, eating the same meals week after week, getting grass in my hair, etc. absolutlely and totally 100% worth it. this is life, this is my day to day. whatever happens after august 14th, i will be grateful for this time in my life, come what may. i will never get this time back, and God helping me, i am trying to live, really live, every day, at camp or not. this is too amazing to allow it to stop when i go home and find out what life is outside of this place, again. i'm a little afraid, a little excited, but mostly just content to see what comes next, whenever it pokes it's head around the corner.
mil besos--rmg
20 July 2006
by the numbers...
12--the number of toilets i have plunged so far this summer
2--the number of people i have had to send home from camp for being stupid
1--the number of toilets i have had to snake out. and yes, i do know how to snake a toilet. aren't you proud?
1 million--the number of egos i have stroked and cajoled in the pursuit of a better camping experience for my campers.
21--the number of days until i go home and sleep in a real bed and eat food that doesn't come from sysco.
21--the number of days until i have a bathroom that only belongs to me.
10--the number of years i have progressively aged and then regressed at camp, depending on the day and the situation.
9--the number of verbal smackdowns i have had to issue to people who have gotten too big for their britches.
25--the number of verbal smackdowns i WISH i had issued to people who have gotten too big for their britches
875-- the number of times i have explained why we do things a certain way, justified a postion, or gently told someone to butt the heck out of something over which they have no say.
20--the average age of my staff
27--how old i am
2--the average amount of letters i get in a week
5--the average amount of letters i mail in a week
3--the number of cd's i bought at target on my last break
12--the number of kayaks i have to unrack and rerack everyday, except for today, because God loves me enough to make it rain
15--the number of pounds i have sweated off this summer, racking and reracking kayaks
3--the number of razor blades i have gone through this summer
2--the number of sticks of deodorant i have gone through this summer
6--the average number of times i get thrown into the pool or river every week
2--the average number of loads of laundry i have to do every week, assuming that the average number of times i get pushed in the pool does not exceed 6
7--predicted number of crying girls at the dance tonight
10--predicted number of crying boys after they get the smack down for being disrespectful to women at the pool today during their devotionals tonight.
1--the number of summers i will spend doing this job. ever. seriously. i love it, but once is enough.
20--number of times a day i wish i didn't have to be the grown up.
1 million--the number of times i am grateful that i have an incredibly family and friend network that have made me the person i am today.
i know you all have real jobs, but if you're interested in spending four days at camp, helping run a session for inner-city, under priviledged children, from august 8-13th, i can definately put you to work. let me know if you're insane enough to join the freak show for a couple of days.
i love you freaks.
mil besos--rmg
2--the number of people i have had to send home from camp for being stupid
1--the number of toilets i have had to snake out. and yes, i do know how to snake a toilet. aren't you proud?
1 million--the number of egos i have stroked and cajoled in the pursuit of a better camping experience for my campers.
21--the number of days until i go home and sleep in a real bed and eat food that doesn't come from sysco.
21--the number of days until i have a bathroom that only belongs to me.
10--the number of years i have progressively aged and then regressed at camp, depending on the day and the situation.
9--the number of verbal smackdowns i have had to issue to people who have gotten too big for their britches.
25--the number of verbal smackdowns i WISH i had issued to people who have gotten too big for their britches
875-- the number of times i have explained why we do things a certain way, justified a postion, or gently told someone to butt the heck out of something over which they have no say.
20--the average age of my staff
27--how old i am
2--the average amount of letters i get in a week
5--the average amount of letters i mail in a week
3--the number of cd's i bought at target on my last break
12--the number of kayaks i have to unrack and rerack everyday, except for today, because God loves me enough to make it rain
15--the number of pounds i have sweated off this summer, racking and reracking kayaks
3--the number of razor blades i have gone through this summer
2--the number of sticks of deodorant i have gone through this summer
6--the average number of times i get thrown into the pool or river every week
2--the average number of loads of laundry i have to do every week, assuming that the average number of times i get pushed in the pool does not exceed 6
7--predicted number of crying girls at the dance tonight
10--predicted number of crying boys after they get the smack down for being disrespectful to women at the pool today during their devotionals tonight.
1--the number of summers i will spend doing this job. ever. seriously. i love it, but once is enough.
20--number of times a day i wish i didn't have to be the grown up.
1 million--the number of times i am grateful that i have an incredibly family and friend network that have made me the person i am today.
i know you all have real jobs, but if you're interested in spending four days at camp, helping run a session for inner-city, under priviledged children, from august 8-13th, i can definately put you to work. let me know if you're insane enough to join the freak show for a couple of days.
i love you freaks.
mil besos--rmg
07 July 2006
post card from the edge, vol 4
i don't know when i've had a worse time at the beach. it rained. i only got to go swimming three times, and it was cloudy and overcast, so my tan isn't what i wanted it to be, at the moment. however, since i get to be head lifeguard this whole freaking week, since we are understaffed and overcommitted, i will be able to make up for lost sun by pulling kayaks in and out of the river, and making sure small children don't end at the bottom of the guad.
there are days here that seem like months. i can't remember being this homesick, even when i was a camper. my cousin jeane used to go to a camp for special children, and when she would come home from a week away, she would run to her room, turn on the tv, radio, record player, and anything else she could get her hands on, and lay across her bed, just happy to be home. i would move heaven and earth to be able to go home for six hours right now, and just see my family and sit down at my table and talk to my momma. i don't even give a crap about sleeping in my own bed. and that's a stretch, because i'm kind of over sleeping in a twin bed, without my good sheets and feather pillow top.
i love my job. i love my job, everyday. i get to be outside, i get to hang out with amazing people who are asking amazing questions about God and the universe, and are learning to find good answers to those questions. i get to talk about how i feel, what i think, what i want out of life. i get to pray every day. i get to sing every day. i get to laugh and cry and think every day, and be utterly unashamed about all of those things. for the first time in a long time, i feel like i am really alive, and i am bursting with that feeling. sometimes, it's almost too much to hold inside, too much to keep to myself, and i wonder what took me so long to allow myself to feel this, to get out of the way, and just be. i feel like a can opener has been turned on inside of me, and everything i thought i could never feel or be is pouring out. and i thank God for that, even though sometimes it's intense and a little scary.
there have been days and situations lately that i know i am not big enough, or smart enough, or creative enough, or brave enough to handle. but i have. and i have no explanation other than God as to how those days and situations got handled. i am consistently caught off guard by what comes out of my mouth, by conversations i'm allowed to have, by decisions i have to make, because i know that in a very real sense, i'm definately not the one doing the real work. i just feel open in a new way to letting God do the work that needs to be done through me. now, you can think i've gone off my rocker, flipped my lid, and take a bit of a crazy cracker. but there's no other way i can explain the things that have been happening over the summer. i know i'm not this smart, or this good. i mean, i'm freaking smart, and i am good, but this is far above and beyond what i am capable of doing. and i love knowing that and living into that. getting out of the way is the hardest thing i have to do everyday. because the minute i start doing this job, and stop letting God do it through me, things will go to hell awfully fast. and i don't want that, because too many good things will be lost, not the least of which is this time i get to spend with God, every day, doing this thing.
i am tired. i will be tired tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably the day after that, too. and the easy days are harder than i imagined the hardest days would be. and that's ok. this yoke is much easier than i imagined. the burden is light in a way i never imagined, because i can rest in the knowledge that, in a very real sense, i am just along for the ride, just the jar that holds the water.
it's midnight, and i'm probably not making a lot of sense. so many things seem to bubble up before i go to sleep. there are letters to write, phone calls that will have to wait for tomorrow, evaluations i need to finish, chapters in the book to edit and email out, and work emails i need to return. there are questions about my future that i'm not ready to ask, or answer, and that's ok. i can feel the changes coming, the way you can feel a storm about to blow in, when the air feels and smells heavy with rain, somewhere between a caress and a punch, somewhere between excitement and anxiety. all things shall be well. life sits on a spiral. blessed be.
mil besos--rmg
there are days here that seem like months. i can't remember being this homesick, even when i was a camper. my cousin jeane used to go to a camp for special children, and when she would come home from a week away, she would run to her room, turn on the tv, radio, record player, and anything else she could get her hands on, and lay across her bed, just happy to be home. i would move heaven and earth to be able to go home for six hours right now, and just see my family and sit down at my table and talk to my momma. i don't even give a crap about sleeping in my own bed. and that's a stretch, because i'm kind of over sleeping in a twin bed, without my good sheets and feather pillow top.
i love my job. i love my job, everyday. i get to be outside, i get to hang out with amazing people who are asking amazing questions about God and the universe, and are learning to find good answers to those questions. i get to talk about how i feel, what i think, what i want out of life. i get to pray every day. i get to sing every day. i get to laugh and cry and think every day, and be utterly unashamed about all of those things. for the first time in a long time, i feel like i am really alive, and i am bursting with that feeling. sometimes, it's almost too much to hold inside, too much to keep to myself, and i wonder what took me so long to allow myself to feel this, to get out of the way, and just be. i feel like a can opener has been turned on inside of me, and everything i thought i could never feel or be is pouring out. and i thank God for that, even though sometimes it's intense and a little scary.
there have been days and situations lately that i know i am not big enough, or smart enough, or creative enough, or brave enough to handle. but i have. and i have no explanation other than God as to how those days and situations got handled. i am consistently caught off guard by what comes out of my mouth, by conversations i'm allowed to have, by decisions i have to make, because i know that in a very real sense, i'm definately not the one doing the real work. i just feel open in a new way to letting God do the work that needs to be done through me. now, you can think i've gone off my rocker, flipped my lid, and take a bit of a crazy cracker. but there's no other way i can explain the things that have been happening over the summer. i know i'm not this smart, or this good. i mean, i'm freaking smart, and i am good, but this is far above and beyond what i am capable of doing. and i love knowing that and living into that. getting out of the way is the hardest thing i have to do everyday. because the minute i start doing this job, and stop letting God do it through me, things will go to hell awfully fast. and i don't want that, because too many good things will be lost, not the least of which is this time i get to spend with God, every day, doing this thing.
i am tired. i will be tired tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably the day after that, too. and the easy days are harder than i imagined the hardest days would be. and that's ok. this yoke is much easier than i imagined. the burden is light in a way i never imagined, because i can rest in the knowledge that, in a very real sense, i am just along for the ride, just the jar that holds the water.
it's midnight, and i'm probably not making a lot of sense. so many things seem to bubble up before i go to sleep. there are letters to write, phone calls that will have to wait for tomorrow, evaluations i need to finish, chapters in the book to edit and email out, and work emails i need to return. there are questions about my future that i'm not ready to ask, or answer, and that's ok. i can feel the changes coming, the way you can feel a storm about to blow in, when the air feels and smells heavy with rain, somewhere between a caress and a punch, somewhere between excitement and anxiety. all things shall be well. life sits on a spiral. blessed be.
mil besos--rmg
small consolation...
i'm hiding in my room before my next round of meetings. ryan adams is on repeat. i just ate some chinese food that was less than stellar, and managed to get 9 hours of sleep last night, wash all my laundry, and treat the gigantic zit that formed on my upper lip during the marathon beach retreat from hell. and in spite of all of that, i still love the fact that i'm at camp. i'm excited and terrified about what may or may not happen when i leave this place. i walk a tight rope everyday. and i like that. but i'm a little tired right now, and i wish like anything that i had more than 24 hours between finishing one thing and starting the next one. there are so many things to say, so much i want to write, but there's just not enough time to put it all down. i will try and do a big post tonight, full of rambling, just like i know you like it. mil besos--rmg
30 June 2006
post card from the edge, vol. 2
"when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro"--hunter s. thompson, by way of corywill...
oh, my sweet people. it's been a long week and a half. right now, i'd like to stare down a bottle of something you have to be 21 to buy, and sleep for 36 hours straight. in the last three weeks, i've made a cps call, put an employee on probation, and fired two people for smoking pot behind the cabins where small children sleep. i'm kind of over being in charge, for the moment. i'm about to run to chapel, and listen to the primary campers talk to God. that is amazing, and that is why i'm glad i am here. because, in the long run, it's not about the drama. it's not about people who won't act right, no matter how many incentives or threats i throw at their feet. at the end of the day, it's about those little kids, who sing and learn, and grown up to be us, and do the same thing for other little kids that we've done for them. case in point, a counselor who was on summer staff when i was 11 or 12 sent his baby girl to us this week, so we could do for her what he did for us. life is a wheel.
congrats to john james derkits III, who became a deacon on saturday. and congrats to laura jane for being the best seminary wife in the world.
i'm using my teaching time this week to catch up on correspondence, so be looking in your mailbox for a little something from camp crazy. life is good, and beautiful, even when it's hard and confusing. i remember that when i watch the sun set, and the stars come up, and it seems easier to remember it here.
i saw three shooting stars the other night. and with that, i'm going to go steal some adderall from a third grader.
mil besos--rmg
oh, my sweet people. it's been a long week and a half. right now, i'd like to stare down a bottle of something you have to be 21 to buy, and sleep for 36 hours straight. in the last three weeks, i've made a cps call, put an employee on probation, and fired two people for smoking pot behind the cabins where small children sleep. i'm kind of over being in charge, for the moment. i'm about to run to chapel, and listen to the primary campers talk to God. that is amazing, and that is why i'm glad i am here. because, in the long run, it's not about the drama. it's not about people who won't act right, no matter how many incentives or threats i throw at their feet. at the end of the day, it's about those little kids, who sing and learn, and grown up to be us, and do the same thing for other little kids that we've done for them. case in point, a counselor who was on summer staff when i was 11 or 12 sent his baby girl to us this week, so we could do for her what he did for us. life is a wheel.
congrats to john james derkits III, who became a deacon on saturday. and congrats to laura jane for being the best seminary wife in the world.
i'm using my teaching time this week to catch up on correspondence, so be looking in your mailbox for a little something from camp crazy. life is good, and beautiful, even when it's hard and confusing. i remember that when i watch the sun set, and the stars come up, and it seems easier to remember it here.
i saw three shooting stars the other night. and with that, i'm going to go steal some adderall from a third grader.
mil besos--rmg
15 June 2006
the (amazing and ) fabulous adventures of cat girl and swamp ass (her brother)
oh friends and neighbors, it's been a long week. i'm talking years long. last week was like a first date, and i had no idea what to expect. this week has been worse than my last date, which if you've forgotten, was three years ago, featured a creepy pony-tail man, and ended with me fleeing one of my favorite watering holes in austin in utter shame and terror.
so last week, i was reunited with an individual i never expected to see, again. cat girl was in my cabin for a weekend retreat when she was in third or fourth grade. i remember her because she talked incessantly about her cats and how much she missed them. this is not unusual for primary campers, since it's one of their first times away from home for any length of time. what was weird was just this camper. and, i'm embarassed to say, much to my chagrin, she was not only cat girl, she was smelly cat girl, all my gentle pleadings with the whole cabin to bathe and not return home smelling like a foot. i tried to bond with this child, and learned the lesson that not ever camper will be your favorite, and you will not be the favorite of every camper. oh cat girl, the wisdom you imparted...and literally changed my life. you freak me out a little bit, still, but i do love you.
imagine my suprise when i was doing registration last week, looked up and saw the face of cat girl, only this time, she was all grown up. she was also still unmistakenly cat girl. i was terrified that she was going to get eaten alive by the trampy girls, the popular girls, the scary girls, and the jocks. she thrived, proving my father's adage that it does, in fact "take all kinds". cat girl was asked to dance by the cutest boy on kitchen staff, in front of her cat girl entourage (because even though she was cat girl, she had a whole following...grace IS amazing), on his knees. and even though it was hard to watch her struggle through what may have been her first boy/girl dance, and because i kept tearing up everytime i looked at her little face, adoring this boy, and knowing that for just a moment, she was the girl every other girl wanted to be, i was happy for her, i was happy to know her, happy that she had been my little cat girl, and had come back to teach me another lesson about life. it was pretty cool.
she came back this week. i almost died (again) at registration. only this time, she brought her brother, swamp ass. he's this really tall kid who looks like he's been put together with paper clips and rubber bands, and pretty much lives in jeans, hiking boots, and graphic t's. he looks kind of like a napolean dynamite, minus the curly hair and glasses. now, you may think that we are cold-hearted individuals, when we make up names for people, but be honest with yourself--you do it, too. and when you have 110 kids in a camp session, certain attributes of certain children are much more recognizable than their name tags. it is a fact that this kid wears jeans every where he goes. and if it were a monetary issue, i would die before i ever made that a point of reference. it's not. i think he just really likes his jeans. it's also FREAKING HOT outside, and we play every day, for an hour. now, when one plays for an hour in shorts, one can work up quite the sweat, when one plays in jeans for an hour, one can work up a good case of what we like to refer to as swamp ass. i'll let you use your imagination. all i can say is that i hope the young man brought some gold bond with him, or can borrow some from his cabin counselor. in any event, he achieved a level of swamp ass at which everyone could marvel, much to our disbelief and horror. but that kid plays like no other. it might not be pretty, and it might look like he's actually having a grande mal seizure when he plays any and every game, but he has the best time playing, whether it's frisbee or dodgeball or counselor hunt. swamp ass plays his guts out. and i find it more and more probable that God's sense of humor trumps all, because when i found out that cat girl and swamp ass were brother and sister, i accidentally peed in the pool. it was just all too perfect. and i love them, in the midst of their weirdness and akwardness. and i wonder if God feels that way about us, too. it was an amazing moment on many levels.
so, cat girl and swamp ass, this post is for you. you were the face of Christ to me, this week. thanks be to God.
mil besos, and a long hot shower--rmg
so last week, i was reunited with an individual i never expected to see, again. cat girl was in my cabin for a weekend retreat when she was in third or fourth grade. i remember her because she talked incessantly about her cats and how much she missed them. this is not unusual for primary campers, since it's one of their first times away from home for any length of time. what was weird was just this camper. and, i'm embarassed to say, much to my chagrin, she was not only cat girl, she was smelly cat girl, all my gentle pleadings with the whole cabin to bathe and not return home smelling like a foot. i tried to bond with this child, and learned the lesson that not ever camper will be your favorite, and you will not be the favorite of every camper. oh cat girl, the wisdom you imparted...and literally changed my life. you freak me out a little bit, still, but i do love you.
imagine my suprise when i was doing registration last week, looked up and saw the face of cat girl, only this time, she was all grown up. she was also still unmistakenly cat girl. i was terrified that she was going to get eaten alive by the trampy girls, the popular girls, the scary girls, and the jocks. she thrived, proving my father's adage that it does, in fact "take all kinds". cat girl was asked to dance by the cutest boy on kitchen staff, in front of her cat girl entourage (because even though she was cat girl, she had a whole following...grace IS amazing), on his knees. and even though it was hard to watch her struggle through what may have been her first boy/girl dance, and because i kept tearing up everytime i looked at her little face, adoring this boy, and knowing that for just a moment, she was the girl every other girl wanted to be, i was happy for her, i was happy to know her, happy that she had been my little cat girl, and had come back to teach me another lesson about life. it was pretty cool.
she came back this week. i almost died (again) at registration. only this time, she brought her brother, swamp ass. he's this really tall kid who looks like he's been put together with paper clips and rubber bands, and pretty much lives in jeans, hiking boots, and graphic t's. he looks kind of like a napolean dynamite, minus the curly hair and glasses. now, you may think that we are cold-hearted individuals, when we make up names for people, but be honest with yourself--you do it, too. and when you have 110 kids in a camp session, certain attributes of certain children are much more recognizable than their name tags. it is a fact that this kid wears jeans every where he goes. and if it were a monetary issue, i would die before i ever made that a point of reference. it's not. i think he just really likes his jeans. it's also FREAKING HOT outside, and we play every day, for an hour. now, when one plays for an hour in shorts, one can work up quite the sweat, when one plays in jeans for an hour, one can work up a good case of what we like to refer to as swamp ass. i'll let you use your imagination. all i can say is that i hope the young man brought some gold bond with him, or can borrow some from his cabin counselor. in any event, he achieved a level of swamp ass at which everyone could marvel, much to our disbelief and horror. but that kid plays like no other. it might not be pretty, and it might look like he's actually having a grande mal seizure when he plays any and every game, but he has the best time playing, whether it's frisbee or dodgeball or counselor hunt. swamp ass plays his guts out. and i find it more and more probable that God's sense of humor trumps all, because when i found out that cat girl and swamp ass were brother and sister, i accidentally peed in the pool. it was just all too perfect. and i love them, in the midst of their weirdness and akwardness. and i wonder if God feels that way about us, too. it was an amazing moment on many levels.
so, cat girl and swamp ass, this post is for you. you were the face of Christ to me, this week. thanks be to God.
mil besos, and a long hot shower--rmg
07 June 2006
postcard from the edge, vol. 1
" when true simplicity is gained, to bow and bend, we shan't be ashamed, and turn, turn will be our delight til we end up in the place that's right..." so goes the first week of camp with the campers in tow. the last three weeks have been so full of so many things. i think i've laughed and cried a little bit everyday. oh, and i had to get a tetanus shot today. i got a real beauty of a scrape all down my right shin when i fell out of my kayak, and since the guadalupe just isn't as clean as she used to be, nurse katy thought i needed to get a stick. my arm hurts, now, as well. but at least i won't be getting lock jaw anytime in the next ten years. or diptheria. it's good to have my bases covered. camp is a hoot. i saw a kid try to stick a whole water bottle in his mouth tonight. i have had to ask campers to put on more clothes, to stop touching each other, and to get off their cell phones. granted, i've had to ask that from a couple of my staff members, too, so i'm just thankful no one is pregnant, yet. what is it about freaking church camp that makes people want to do smootching around in the bushes? someone should bottle and sell that--they'd make a mint. i got to take one of my staffers to the er in kerrville, today. it was large. he's a funny kid. he actually leaned over at one point while we were waiting for the doc to read his x-rays, and (this was unprovoked, totally, i swear, because contrary to popular myth, i don't really talk about farting with anyone outside of close family and friends...) and farted ON me. not at me, not in my general direction, but ON me. oddly enough, we've been working on a nature trail on camp property and laying down cedar posts, which is exactly what this fart smelled like. and i told him so. he agreed. oh, and tonight, i had my first serenade. this is a very big deal at camp. my guys' staff came over and sang me a song before i went to bed. they sang me "drive on" by jack ingram. great song. i cried while they were singing, because i am a total push over for nice things. and they said they loved me when they left. it's good to be loved. my return key is stuck again, so i'll shut this day down. life is good. i'm glad i'm here. it's time for some advil for my arm. tomorrow is dance night, which translates into a huge dose of birthcontrol for yours truly. how any of us managed to become modrately functional adults after the horrors of adolescense is beyond me...i can already smell the old spice and the hormones, and the dance is still almost 20 hours away. geeze, oh man. oh, and congrats to esteban, who finished his first marathon on sunday. i love you! and happy late birthday to beano. i owe you a phone call. and you too, anna. and you too, moo-moo. mil besos--rmg
15 May 2006
for poppy...
my gramps died last night. he was taking out the trash, after a long, fun weekend, walked out of his back door and into the arms of a loving and merciful God. i've been running in a fog since five this morning, and i really just want some sleep. but i wanted to talk about my poppy, first. some of you knew him, some of you don't, but it's my blog, so here we go...
poppy was my own personal super hero. there was no one bigger, stronger, better, kinder, gentler, wiser, tougher, or more amazing than my poppy. from the time i could crawl into the cab of his pickup until i had to start nursery school, i went everywhere he did. even to construction jobs. he never talked down to me, never made me think i couldn't do just what i set out to do, never let me give up or give in. he taught me the value of a day's work, and the value of a day's pay. he taught me that if you have a job to do, do it right and be proud of your work. he taught me to treat people fairly, regardless of what color their skin was, what kind of education they had, or how much money they had in their pockets. family always came first, and even though it sometimes meant that he had to drive 80 miles one way to provide for his family, he did it. giving of your time and your resources was big for poppy. he went on two vet trips to honduras, gave away countless gobs of candy to hungry children, and brightened up the lives of everyone he visited with.
poppy could have cared less about fancy theology. God was real, Jesus was real, and both had bailed his butt out of many a pot of hot water. faith drove him, and you could feel that in his presence. poppy prayed for a list of people every morning, our family, his friends, neighbors, people from church, etc. what his prayers may have lacked in eloquence, they made up for in love and sincerity. poppy always reminded me to pray, reminded me that God was good, all the time, even when things weren't fair or ok. reminded me that the rain falls on the just and the unjust, and that the bitter comes with the sweet.
poppy always had time for a story, or a cuddle, or a word of wisdom. he was never too busy, or too tired, or too grown up to play or laugh or chat. poppy's advice was simple, direct, and never sugar-coated. he taught me to hunt and fish, how to drive, and how to tell a good story. he had beautiful blue eyes that had seen a million miles, a million plumb lines, a million pounds of concrete, the pyramids in egypt, the wailing wall in jerusalem, the beaches of mexico, and the horror of war in korea, but they still managed to laugh and twinkle everytime we sat around the table together. i think i will miss that most of all.
so, sweet poppy, enjoy your first night home. hunt big, tell my daddy i said hello. we'll all be home soon, so keep the light on, and know we love you.
mil besos--rmg
poppy was my own personal super hero. there was no one bigger, stronger, better, kinder, gentler, wiser, tougher, or more amazing than my poppy. from the time i could crawl into the cab of his pickup until i had to start nursery school, i went everywhere he did. even to construction jobs. he never talked down to me, never made me think i couldn't do just what i set out to do, never let me give up or give in. he taught me the value of a day's work, and the value of a day's pay. he taught me that if you have a job to do, do it right and be proud of your work. he taught me to treat people fairly, regardless of what color their skin was, what kind of education they had, or how much money they had in their pockets. family always came first, and even though it sometimes meant that he had to drive 80 miles one way to provide for his family, he did it. giving of your time and your resources was big for poppy. he went on two vet trips to honduras, gave away countless gobs of candy to hungry children, and brightened up the lives of everyone he visited with.
poppy could have cared less about fancy theology. God was real, Jesus was real, and both had bailed his butt out of many a pot of hot water. faith drove him, and you could feel that in his presence. poppy prayed for a list of people every morning, our family, his friends, neighbors, people from church, etc. what his prayers may have lacked in eloquence, they made up for in love and sincerity. poppy always reminded me to pray, reminded me that God was good, all the time, even when things weren't fair or ok. reminded me that the rain falls on the just and the unjust, and that the bitter comes with the sweet.
poppy always had time for a story, or a cuddle, or a word of wisdom. he was never too busy, or too tired, or too grown up to play or laugh or chat. poppy's advice was simple, direct, and never sugar-coated. he taught me to hunt and fish, how to drive, and how to tell a good story. he had beautiful blue eyes that had seen a million miles, a million plumb lines, a million pounds of concrete, the pyramids in egypt, the wailing wall in jerusalem, the beaches of mexico, and the horror of war in korea, but they still managed to laugh and twinkle everytime we sat around the table together. i think i will miss that most of all.
so, sweet poppy, enjoy your first night home. hunt big, tell my daddy i said hello. we'll all be home soon, so keep the light on, and know we love you.
mil besos--rmg
02 May 2006
charmed life
so, in the past, oh 15 days, i have seen three famous people who's work i adore.
i took my mom to see merle haggard and bob dylan. it was an incredible show. i like merle haggard, don't get me wrong. but bob dylan sits high in my pantheon. seeing him in real life was amazing. from the minute he launched into "maggie's farm" until the last bit of reverb of "all along the watchtower", i was enthralled, entranced, fixated, mesmerized, etc. the whole rest of the world outside could have gone to hell, and i wouldn't have known a thing about it. some of you know my deep love for mr. dylan, so you can imagine that when he started singing "don't think twice, it's alright", that i cried a little bit. i love that song. it's one of those songs that speaks to me, and says something different every time. the harmonica solos were enough to send me into low orbit. and his lap steel player may well have ascended some kind of existencial plane and become a little more than a man and a little less than a god, that night--and he played a mean banjo, too. "like a rolling stone" was part of the second encore, and it was as tight and solid, light, and lovely as anything i've heard on an album, but better, because i was right there. i would have paid twice what i did to be there with my mom. it was amazing to see bob dylan, but it was twice as nice to see him with mom.
and then we saw dennis quaid. not only saw him play with his band, but saw him at gruene hall, and TOUCHED him (on the hand, and in a totally appropriate way, because he's remarried, now). that is one hot dad. and he plays a good show. and represents very well in real life. and he played "gloria" and "great balls of fire", two of my favorite songs, ever, in the whole world.
it's been a nice little run of good music, lately. the laundry monster demands to be appeased. and i have about 80 million things to do. c'est la vie, non?
mil besos--rmg
i took my mom to see merle haggard and bob dylan. it was an incredible show. i like merle haggard, don't get me wrong. but bob dylan sits high in my pantheon. seeing him in real life was amazing. from the minute he launched into "maggie's farm" until the last bit of reverb of "all along the watchtower", i was enthralled, entranced, fixated, mesmerized, etc. the whole rest of the world outside could have gone to hell, and i wouldn't have known a thing about it. some of you know my deep love for mr. dylan, so you can imagine that when he started singing "don't think twice, it's alright", that i cried a little bit. i love that song. it's one of those songs that speaks to me, and says something different every time. the harmonica solos were enough to send me into low orbit. and his lap steel player may well have ascended some kind of existencial plane and become a little more than a man and a little less than a god, that night--and he played a mean banjo, too. "like a rolling stone" was part of the second encore, and it was as tight and solid, light, and lovely as anything i've heard on an album, but better, because i was right there. i would have paid twice what i did to be there with my mom. it was amazing to see bob dylan, but it was twice as nice to see him with mom.
and then we saw dennis quaid. not only saw him play with his band, but saw him at gruene hall, and TOUCHED him (on the hand, and in a totally appropriate way, because he's remarried, now). that is one hot dad. and he plays a good show. and represents very well in real life. and he played "gloria" and "great balls of fire", two of my favorite songs, ever, in the whole world.
it's been a nice little run of good music, lately. the laundry monster demands to be appeased. and i have about 80 million things to do. c'est la vie, non?
mil besos--rmg
27 April 2006
april, and everything after...
it seems that may is close upon my heels. and while april hasn't been the cruelest month, it has surely flown by in the blink of an eye. camp is looming, and i'm wavering between being scared and excited. mostly, i'm excited, and can't wait to start being there. we set the orientation schedule on tuesday, and i think it's going to be a great set up to start the staff off right. i have to say that i'm mostly excited about the crawfish boil we've got set up. i mean, the other stuff is fun and enriching and all that crap, but what's not to like about crawfish? FREE crawfish, even.
sweet caroline married her beloved mr. christman last week, and it was a lovely time. nothing could be finer than watching someone you love love someone enough to commit the rest of their lives to that person. i was humbled and blessed to have been a part of their special day. the best thing that i can say about this marriage, in particular, is that it gives me hope. now i know i have the tendency to get all mushy, but indulge me, the varsity letterman bridesmaid, to mush away.
sweet caroline, moo, and i have been in the trenches together, as only sister-friends can be. we have like scum bag boys who have broken our hearts. we have liked boys who were not good for us, or good too us, or just bad fits. moo is the one who keeps our faith, reminds us of the promises that have been made that we won't be alone forever. caro is the one who reminds us that we have to listen to our heads and our hearts, because too much or too little of either one makes for a poor experience. and i like to prentend that i'm the one who watches from the corner, taking in all the information, and processing it into something like a book report, for further digestion and reflection. but my sweet caroline had all but thrown in the towel. and then came mr. christman, on something like a modern day white horse, and swept our girl off her feet in short order, and put her firmly back in the game. he put a light behind her eyes that i had seen flicker, but he had something inside of him that made it glow like a spotlight. and for that, regardless of all my threats to kill him if he put a foot wrong, i will love him, too. and my pride and wonder in sweet caroline having the guts and the courage and the wonderment to gamble on love makes me wonder and hope that i can have the will to do the same, one day.
life is good. never doubt it for a minute.
mil besos--rmg
sweet caroline married her beloved mr. christman last week, and it was a lovely time. nothing could be finer than watching someone you love love someone enough to commit the rest of their lives to that person. i was humbled and blessed to have been a part of their special day. the best thing that i can say about this marriage, in particular, is that it gives me hope. now i know i have the tendency to get all mushy, but indulge me, the varsity letterman bridesmaid, to mush away.
sweet caroline, moo, and i have been in the trenches together, as only sister-friends can be. we have like scum bag boys who have broken our hearts. we have liked boys who were not good for us, or good too us, or just bad fits. moo is the one who keeps our faith, reminds us of the promises that have been made that we won't be alone forever. caro is the one who reminds us that we have to listen to our heads and our hearts, because too much or too little of either one makes for a poor experience. and i like to prentend that i'm the one who watches from the corner, taking in all the information, and processing it into something like a book report, for further digestion and reflection. but my sweet caroline had all but thrown in the towel. and then came mr. christman, on something like a modern day white horse, and swept our girl off her feet in short order, and put her firmly back in the game. he put a light behind her eyes that i had seen flicker, but he had something inside of him that made it glow like a spotlight. and for that, regardless of all my threats to kill him if he put a foot wrong, i will love him, too. and my pride and wonder in sweet caroline having the guts and the courage and the wonderment to gamble on love makes me wonder and hope that i can have the will to do the same, one day.
life is good. never doubt it for a minute.
mil besos--rmg
24 April 2006
ugh...
i hate to be a downer, but seriously...this takes the cake. i need a vacation from my subconscious. the wedding was wonderful, beautiful, glorious, and everything a wedding should be. and then i drove for 8 hours thinking about weddings, people in love, etc. it seriously jacked with my head, and i had bizarre and disturbing, and very lucid dreams for the better part of three hours this morning. it's never fun to wake up and want to cry. major, major blah.
in other news, related to my trip, new orleans looked better than i expected, but not as good as i hoped. i saw an alligator crossing the highway, a turtle crossing the highway, and some hateful woman outside houston took a huge dump and stopped up a toilet that i desperately needed to use. so, i plunged my first and (PLEASE TO GOD) hopefully last gas station toilet. and to add insult to injury, it was the kind of gas station that makes you buy something to use their bathroom. considering that i performed maintenence, i think i should have gotten a pass on the obligatory purchase. my only complaint, other than that, was that there was no graffitti in said bathroom, and now i have to invent someway to get the plunging story into my book. thoughts?
it's almost going-home time. i'm vacillating between stopping to work out, or just going home and going straight to bed, not passing go, and not collecting two hundred dollars. maybe i'll flip for it. or, i may be trapped in the computer room, because stinky j just stuck his hands down his pants and then proceeded to rub down the doorknob. i love this child, but he is a walking advertisement for strict and potent birthcontrol.
mil besos, and dreamless sleep--rmg
in other news, related to my trip, new orleans looked better than i expected, but not as good as i hoped. i saw an alligator crossing the highway, a turtle crossing the highway, and some hateful woman outside houston took a huge dump and stopped up a toilet that i desperately needed to use. so, i plunged my first and (PLEASE TO GOD) hopefully last gas station toilet. and to add insult to injury, it was the kind of gas station that makes you buy something to use their bathroom. considering that i performed maintenence, i think i should have gotten a pass on the obligatory purchase. my only complaint, other than that, was that there was no graffitti in said bathroom, and now i have to invent someway to get the plunging story into my book. thoughts?
it's almost going-home time. i'm vacillating between stopping to work out, or just going home and going straight to bed, not passing go, and not collecting two hundred dollars. maybe i'll flip for it. or, i may be trapped in the computer room, because stinky j just stuck his hands down his pants and then proceeded to rub down the doorknob. i love this child, but he is a walking advertisement for strict and potent birthcontrol.
mil besos, and dreamless sleep--rmg
04 April 2006
long time coming
ok, so i will admit that blogging hasn't been on my to do list of late. but it has been on my mind. the truth of the matter is that i've been swamped with work, work, and a little bit more work. and when i do get a minute to myself, i've been trying to make myself run or go to curves, which seems to be the salvation of chubby housewives everywhere, and me, single, chubby, 27 me. lucky for me, today the soundtrack at curves was 80's girl rock. did i mention that in addition to working at my old summer camp, i also get to be a lifeguard? hence with all the running and self-improvement. oh, and i actulaly joined a tanning salon. you can pick youselves off the floor now. i even suprise myself, once in a while. the rest of the time, when i'm not working, or sleeping, or working off the 30 odd pounds of taco bell i packed onto myself in college, i'm trying like the dickens not to be so irritated by mundane crap. i'll let you in on a little secret: despite the charming personality i let you people see, i'm really quite easily irritated. and since my friend tpon told me once that me actually admitting my irritations made me "more edgy and less like pollyana always blowing rays of sunshine up people's posteriors", i'll let you in on the short list.
1. i am highly irritated and grossed out by the mucinex commercials. there's nothing more insulting and gross than talking and dancing snot wads in a conga line. in fact, it makes me want to just suffer through my allergy attacks than buy their stupid dancing snot wad product.
2. i am highly irritated and insulted that abc has commissioned a remake of the Ten Commandments. charlton heston IS moses, and the parting of the red sea is supposed to look like jello, crappily filmed on a sound stage. that's the way it happened, as far as i'm concerned. this is a travesty. and i will watch the new one, just so i can complain that it's not as good as the first one. btw, we had to watch the 1st version in my 6th grade social studies class when we studied ancient egypt. that would never happen anywhere else in the world, i guarantee it.
3. i hate that i watch 24 like a fiend. same goes for lost. i am cracked out on both of these shows. for someone who barely watched cable tv, or any tv, for the better part of four years, this is like eating a whole chocolate cake after months of doing adkins. not that i'd know anything about that...the shows are ridiculous to the point of being, well, ridiculous. smell the fart acting, implausible story lines, and crazy background music that makes my heart beat fast all combine to make my monday and wednesday nights complete. i'm really irritated that invasion is now on hiatus. that show sucks, too, but i have to watch it. it's like a compulsion. like how i have to have the closet door shut when i sleep, or can't stand to have open cabinet doors in the bathroom or the kitchen. i hate how much i like these shows.
4. sean hannity irritates me to the point of no return. i even like rush limbaugh better than i like sean hannity, and that's a hard thing for me to say. talk radio, since i'm now a part time office girl, has become a big part of my day. i can grin and bear it through rush, but sean hannity makes me want to listen to nails grating on a chalk board rather than his pedantic nattering. sorry, i mean his sanctimonious pedantic nattering. i hate it when i leave that part out. he's a hack. that's right, a hack. it's one thing to disagree with politics, it's another to just bully people and shout them down. i hope he's secretly a nice person at home, because he's a butthole at his job. that's right, a butthole. and i think he and bill o'reilly should be marooned on an island together, and have to figure out how to turn their egos into food and water. if they did that, we could solve the hunger issue immediately. imagine what we could do if we could turn their egos into petroleum products...the possibilities are endless.
5. i'm irritated by politics. that's all i'll say about that, because as the reigning raging liberal in my family, most of whom read this blog, i'd like to keep the peace, and still be invited to eat and visit, and live with them.
6. i'm irritated that you can't use airline miles whenever you want to. i know the reasons, i just don't like them.
7. i'm irritated that coke zero has aspertame in it. why can't they make it with splenda?
8. i'm irritated that i don't always trust my emotions enough to act on them. i'm irritated that i buffer my feelings and thoughts to be pleasing, accomodating, and nice. secretly, i hate being nice. there's a short list of people who i'd like to call out, yell at, tell how it is, etc. but i won't do that, probably ever, because the fall out just wouldn't be worth it. i'm irritated by people who continually crap away potential, hold on to things of which they should let go, don't keep up with current events, don't keep up with each other, and who wonder who's mad at them for not doing those things. i'm irritated that i censor those feelings, and don't say that to the people who need that said to them. it's just as bad as pretending everything is fine, when everyone knows it's not.
9. i'm irritated that i can only walk out of starbucks without a cd every other time i go in there. they have the best music. and i always get the most random stuff. it's worse than when i go to target, and come out with crap i don't need. or when i actually get to go to waterloo records, and buy music i've never heard of, listen to for a month, and then put away and don't listen to for another six months. madness!!
there. that's all. now you get why i'm not blogging lately. aren't you glad i ran out of energy and funny things (ok, mostly funny) things to say at number 9? taking the long view, i will say that things are well, for the most part. i'm healthy, my family is healthy. my nephew is cutting teeth, which is amazing to me. i've gotten the job i've wanted since i was 12, and even though it's just for the summer, i look forward to that time, in that place, with those people. things are moving forward for a great summer at camp. it's springtime, and the days are lovely.
mil besos--rmg
1. i am highly irritated and grossed out by the mucinex commercials. there's nothing more insulting and gross than talking and dancing snot wads in a conga line. in fact, it makes me want to just suffer through my allergy attacks than buy their stupid dancing snot wad product.
2. i am highly irritated and insulted that abc has commissioned a remake of the Ten Commandments. charlton heston IS moses, and the parting of the red sea is supposed to look like jello, crappily filmed on a sound stage. that's the way it happened, as far as i'm concerned. this is a travesty. and i will watch the new one, just so i can complain that it's not as good as the first one. btw, we had to watch the 1st version in my 6th grade social studies class when we studied ancient egypt. that would never happen anywhere else in the world, i guarantee it.
3. i hate that i watch 24 like a fiend. same goes for lost. i am cracked out on both of these shows. for someone who barely watched cable tv, or any tv, for the better part of four years, this is like eating a whole chocolate cake after months of doing adkins. not that i'd know anything about that...the shows are ridiculous to the point of being, well, ridiculous. smell the fart acting, implausible story lines, and crazy background music that makes my heart beat fast all combine to make my monday and wednesday nights complete. i'm really irritated that invasion is now on hiatus. that show sucks, too, but i have to watch it. it's like a compulsion. like how i have to have the closet door shut when i sleep, or can't stand to have open cabinet doors in the bathroom or the kitchen. i hate how much i like these shows.
4. sean hannity irritates me to the point of no return. i even like rush limbaugh better than i like sean hannity, and that's a hard thing for me to say. talk radio, since i'm now a part time office girl, has become a big part of my day. i can grin and bear it through rush, but sean hannity makes me want to listen to nails grating on a chalk board rather than his pedantic nattering. sorry, i mean his sanctimonious pedantic nattering. i hate it when i leave that part out. he's a hack. that's right, a hack. it's one thing to disagree with politics, it's another to just bully people and shout them down. i hope he's secretly a nice person at home, because he's a butthole at his job. that's right, a butthole. and i think he and bill o'reilly should be marooned on an island together, and have to figure out how to turn their egos into food and water. if they did that, we could solve the hunger issue immediately. imagine what we could do if we could turn their egos into petroleum products...the possibilities are endless.
5. i'm irritated by politics. that's all i'll say about that, because as the reigning raging liberal in my family, most of whom read this blog, i'd like to keep the peace, and still be invited to eat and visit, and live with them.
6. i'm irritated that you can't use airline miles whenever you want to. i know the reasons, i just don't like them.
7. i'm irritated that coke zero has aspertame in it. why can't they make it with splenda?
8. i'm irritated that i don't always trust my emotions enough to act on them. i'm irritated that i buffer my feelings and thoughts to be pleasing, accomodating, and nice. secretly, i hate being nice. there's a short list of people who i'd like to call out, yell at, tell how it is, etc. but i won't do that, probably ever, because the fall out just wouldn't be worth it. i'm irritated by people who continually crap away potential, hold on to things of which they should let go, don't keep up with current events, don't keep up with each other, and who wonder who's mad at them for not doing those things. i'm irritated that i censor those feelings, and don't say that to the people who need that said to them. it's just as bad as pretending everything is fine, when everyone knows it's not.
9. i'm irritated that i can only walk out of starbucks without a cd every other time i go in there. they have the best music. and i always get the most random stuff. it's worse than when i go to target, and come out with crap i don't need. or when i actually get to go to waterloo records, and buy music i've never heard of, listen to for a month, and then put away and don't listen to for another six months. madness!!
there. that's all. now you get why i'm not blogging lately. aren't you glad i ran out of energy and funny things (ok, mostly funny) things to say at number 9? taking the long view, i will say that things are well, for the most part. i'm healthy, my family is healthy. my nephew is cutting teeth, which is amazing to me. i've gotten the job i've wanted since i was 12, and even though it's just for the summer, i look forward to that time, in that place, with those people. things are moving forward for a great summer at camp. it's springtime, and the days are lovely.
mil besos--rmg
10 March 2006
automatic for the people
yeah, yeah, i know the title for my post is the name of an REM album. deal with it. if michael stipe liked women, i would want to marry him. what a great band...their music is certainly a part of my inner-soundtrack. if i made a record with music about my life, i would cover like 8 REM songs. ok, it would be more like a boxed set of records about my life, and since i'm such a rotten guitar player, the odds of me actually learning to play a quarter of those songs moderately ok is slim to none. and that's ok.
so, tuesday was quite the day in my little life. the morning started out like any other...hanging out with baby a and stinky j, trying to get a 15 minute power nap between the time stinky j got on the bus and when i had to put baby a in the shower, i was kept fully awake by stinky j's guinea pig (remind me when i have children to put a firm and solid ban on vermin as pets...), who kept banging on the bars of her cage (i know if i could hear her talk, she would have been chanting "attica, attica...") until i gave her some timothy grass. and then around 10 am, i got the call that little old me had been hired to be camp director for the summer at my old camp. you can read all about the things we do, etc. at www.campcapers.org
needless to say, i am ridiculously excited. and a little nervous. and that's ok. all will be well.
the world's fattest baby and finest purveyor of neck cheese weighs 15 pounds now, and is rolling over. and his parents reported that he has begun verbalizing in response to their talking to him. i am expecting him to speak any day now. i told you he was advanced. supposedly he's coming to visit in a couple of weeks. that will be a good weekend. i will be coaching him on his speech. i'm trying to decide which word i'd like to teach him first. as his aunt, i feel obligated to warp him in a loving way as soon as possible. like my friend e-beth, who taught her nephew to say "take a dump" instead of "go poo-poo". it was a big hit a day care. i can only hope that when my time comes to teach my nephew, i can do as well.
that's it, really. kind of boring, i know. but it's been a kind of boring month, except for the last week, which was nice. surreal, but nice. and i don't mean that in a notting hill sort of way.
mil besos--rmg
so, tuesday was quite the day in my little life. the morning started out like any other...hanging out with baby a and stinky j, trying to get a 15 minute power nap between the time stinky j got on the bus and when i had to put baby a in the shower, i was kept fully awake by stinky j's guinea pig (remind me when i have children to put a firm and solid ban on vermin as pets...), who kept banging on the bars of her cage (i know if i could hear her talk, she would have been chanting "attica, attica...") until i gave her some timothy grass. and then around 10 am, i got the call that little old me had been hired to be camp director for the summer at my old camp. you can read all about the things we do, etc. at www.campcapers.org
needless to say, i am ridiculously excited. and a little nervous. and that's ok. all will be well.
the world's fattest baby and finest purveyor of neck cheese weighs 15 pounds now, and is rolling over. and his parents reported that he has begun verbalizing in response to their talking to him. i am expecting him to speak any day now. i told you he was advanced. supposedly he's coming to visit in a couple of weeks. that will be a good weekend. i will be coaching him on his speech. i'm trying to decide which word i'd like to teach him first. as his aunt, i feel obligated to warp him in a loving way as soon as possible. like my friend e-beth, who taught her nephew to say "take a dump" instead of "go poo-poo". it was a big hit a day care. i can only hope that when my time comes to teach my nephew, i can do as well.
that's it, really. kind of boring, i know. but it's been a kind of boring month, except for the last week, which was nice. surreal, but nice. and i don't mean that in a notting hill sort of way.
mil besos--rmg
09 February 2006
long time, no blog
so, it's 1am on a thursday. i've been doing data entry for about 5 hours today, cataloguing state primary candidates. right now, i hate politics with a passion. although, it's incredible there aren't more contested primaries. that's kind of sad to me. although, i am glad to not have as many names to enter into my magical database. all i can say is that the movie "ray" is an excellent movie to type along to. mercy, me.
life is good, nevertheless. i'm still in flux, for those of you keeping score at home, but there is movement on the horizon, possibly.
i'm off to see my nephew this weekend. expect an obnoxious amount of pictures when i get back.
there will be new things to say, soon. i promise.
mil besos--rmg
life is good, nevertheless. i'm still in flux, for those of you keeping score at home, but there is movement on the horizon, possibly.
i'm off to see my nephew this weekend. expect an obnoxious amount of pictures when i get back.
there will be new things to say, soon. i promise.
mil besos--rmg
12 January 2006
free minute
i have about fifteen unassigned minutes today, and all i have to say is that neil young's greatest hits just about rocked me out of my car yesterday. i remember the summer before i turned 16 as the summer i discovered neil young and learned how to drive a stick shift. both have had a lot to with how i turned out, i think. harvest was the album, and the rabbit was my car, and the back yard was my entire universe.
if i learned anything from neil young it is this: you don't have to have the world's greatest voice as long as you have something decent and beautiful to say, because at some point, the music just takes over and does what it will. and if you can write a great song and put a great harmonica solo in on top of it, you have written a truly classically kick-you-in-the-teeth-and-butter-your-biscuit great song. from the stick shift, i learned patience and finesse. i could use more stick shift driving in my life, i think. i know for a fact that i could use more neil young.
is it just me, or do harmonica solos just make you want to something crazy, like tear off all your clothes and go run screaming down the middle of the street because they are so freaking sweet? lucky for the rest of the free world that a) i have serious inhibitions and b) harmonica solos that sublime and amazing are few and far between. heart of gold, kids, that song is where it's at for little me, right now. geeze oh man.
i think i may be over-caffinated today. in fact, i'm sure of it. a large coffee drink from the 'bucks, several glasses of tea at lunch with mom and the grand'rents, and a diet coke with splenda made my lack of a nap today hardly noticiable. my plan is working...ah ha ha ha ha.
mil besos--rmg
if i learned anything from neil young it is this: you don't have to have the world's greatest voice as long as you have something decent and beautiful to say, because at some point, the music just takes over and does what it will. and if you can write a great song and put a great harmonica solo in on top of it, you have written a truly classically kick-you-in-the-teeth-and-butter-your-biscuit great song. from the stick shift, i learned patience and finesse. i could use more stick shift driving in my life, i think. i know for a fact that i could use more neil young.
is it just me, or do harmonica solos just make you want to something crazy, like tear off all your clothes and go run screaming down the middle of the street because they are so freaking sweet? lucky for the rest of the free world that a) i have serious inhibitions and b) harmonica solos that sublime and amazing are few and far between. heart of gold, kids, that song is where it's at for little me, right now. geeze oh man.
i think i may be over-caffinated today. in fact, i'm sure of it. a large coffee drink from the 'bucks, several glasses of tea at lunch with mom and the grand'rents, and a diet coke with splenda made my lack of a nap today hardly noticiable. my plan is working...ah ha ha ha ha.
mil besos--rmg
11 January 2006
drive by...
ok, i'm not dead. i haven't given up blogging. i haven't baricaded myself in my room with four packages of double stuff oreos and five gallons of milk to die the perfect fat girl death. i've just been really, really, really, insanely busy. and it is a good feeling.
however, in between cleaning my room, doing laundry, running to kohl's to find cute clothes for my pseudo-business trip this weekend, and planning what is becoming a very busy spring and summer, i thought i'd jot off a little post to the old blog.
for those of you keeping score at home, we can chalk four points up to my side of the board for overall good utility play on last weekend's young adult vocational retreat. it was wonderful. and even though the gulf of mexico was a scorching 56 degrees, you can bet your sweet bippy that i went swimming. it was glorious. additionally, you can chalk another 5 points onto my side of the board for having the intestinal fortitude to drop myspace from my life before it became what we like to call " a real problem". geeze oh man, it was like a high school reunion on crack, and i could feel myself slipping into my desk at the back of the class and wishing to be cool, instead of just being cool. so, sorry to the myspace folk that i miss commenting on, but wow, i had to tear myself away. plus, there is such a thing as knowing too much. in the minus column, you can chalk two points in the stupid man column, regarding the heinous amount of crushing i have been suffering lately. i will be very glad when my hormones remember i am not 12 anymore. until then, my mind and my body will be reminding them on a half-hourly basis. remind me when telling white lies became ok, as long as you didn't mean any harm, because i'd like to get in on that action. seriously, people, seriously.
there is movement on the job front. that is all i am saying about that, because even though i am 27 and should no longer believe in such things, i don't want to jinx this.
the fattest baby in the world is coming to my house this weekend. sadly, i will be in indianapolis, shamelessly angling for a job. and no, it's not as a nascar nasty. indianapolis, apparently, is church conference central. so, i'll be trying to watch my language and act like a lady for 72 hours. i'll let you know how that goes. i think i am going to get the fattest baby in the world a treat, but the jury is still out about what i should get him. his grandmother has forbidden me to bring him back anything to do with nascar, although i'm sure his father would get a big kick out of that.
life is good. i think i still have some sand in my ears.
mil besos--r
however, in between cleaning my room, doing laundry, running to kohl's to find cute clothes for my pseudo-business trip this weekend, and planning what is becoming a very busy spring and summer, i thought i'd jot off a little post to the old blog.
for those of you keeping score at home, we can chalk four points up to my side of the board for overall good utility play on last weekend's young adult vocational retreat. it was wonderful. and even though the gulf of mexico was a scorching 56 degrees, you can bet your sweet bippy that i went swimming. it was glorious. additionally, you can chalk another 5 points onto my side of the board for having the intestinal fortitude to drop myspace from my life before it became what we like to call " a real problem". geeze oh man, it was like a high school reunion on crack, and i could feel myself slipping into my desk at the back of the class and wishing to be cool, instead of just being cool. so, sorry to the myspace folk that i miss commenting on, but wow, i had to tear myself away. plus, there is such a thing as knowing too much. in the minus column, you can chalk two points in the stupid man column, regarding the heinous amount of crushing i have been suffering lately. i will be very glad when my hormones remember i am not 12 anymore. until then, my mind and my body will be reminding them on a half-hourly basis. remind me when telling white lies became ok, as long as you didn't mean any harm, because i'd like to get in on that action. seriously, people, seriously.
there is movement on the job front. that is all i am saying about that, because even though i am 27 and should no longer believe in such things, i don't want to jinx this.
the fattest baby in the world is coming to my house this weekend. sadly, i will be in indianapolis, shamelessly angling for a job. and no, it's not as a nascar nasty. indianapolis, apparently, is church conference central. so, i'll be trying to watch my language and act like a lady for 72 hours. i'll let you know how that goes. i think i am going to get the fattest baby in the world a treat, but the jury is still out about what i should get him. his grandmother has forbidden me to bring him back anything to do with nascar, although i'm sure his father would get a big kick out of that.
life is good. i think i still have some sand in my ears.
mil besos--r
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