Where I Am Now – Keeping Focused
This morning, someone made a comment about passages of Scripture that have, in the past, impacted you so deeply that they’ve become a part of the fabric of your being. At the words, I cast my memory back and thought of passages like that in my life.
The first to come to mind was a verse in Second Timothy that resonated with me in times of struggle during college, hard times when I didn’t even have the strength to pursue Christ: “If we are faithless, He remains faithful—for He cannot deny Himself.” Having the strength for faith isn’t something I’m currently struggling with, but the verse still resonates—it is a truth I rely upon and live in.
Today, though, I went back to the beginning of the chapter to take a look at that verse in context. I wanted to see what I was to do with the phrase right before the one I’d grasped: “If we deny Him, He will also deny us.” It’s a frightening verse, really. What does it mean by the word deny?
These days, my spiritual struggles are wrapped up in the struggles of others. I have friends and mentors who have turned their back on the God who is my life-force; friends and mentors with whom I learned Christ and a biblical worldview. And I do not know what to do with that. If God taught me something through the words or actions of a friend, and that friend no longer follows that teaching, what am I to do? How am I to comprehend that teaching now? Through prayer and consideration, I’ve come to realize that my philosophy that God’s Truth is Truth, no matter in what vehicle it is presented, applies here, too. But even so, the struggle remains. My faith is currently secure. By God’s grace, I am not doubting His person, His faithfulness, His goodness, His justice. But these friends cannot say the same—and some have said the very opposite; they have rejected God.
So I read the whole passage again, finding myself in a different position than when I last spent time looking at it. This is what I read:
“You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus, and what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also. Share in sufferings as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him. An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules. It is the hard-working farmer who ought to have the first share of the crops. Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in everything.
“Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel, for which I am suffering, bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound! Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect; that they also may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory. The saying is trustworthy, for:
If we have died with Him, we will also live with Him;
if we endure, we will also reign with Him;
if we deny Him, He will also deny us;
if we are faithless, He remains faithful—
for He cannot deny Himself.” (2 Timothy 2:1-13)
Who am I in all this? Where do I stand today? I am the “child” addressed at the very beginning. I’m exhorted to be strengthened by Jesus’ grace, by the truth I’ve heard all my life. I’m commanded to pass this truth along—which is what I’m doing right now.
I’m to pursue Christ single-mindedly, undistracted by those around me who doubt. Not without care for them, but with the knowledge that my pursuit benefits them, as a soldier’s obedience to this commander serves everyone he protects. Yes, certainly, there is reward for faithfulness, like the athlete’s crown or the farmer’s crop, but that is secondary to the soldier’s focus upon his commander. That aim to please the commander comes with hardship sometimes; soldiers are asked to lay their very lives on the line, but their aim is not focused upon the suffering, rather the goal.
And what is that goal? That Truth will be heard and understood. Paul exhorts me to remember Christ Jesus. He is bound for the sake of the Truth, but the Truth still speaks, still goes on. Paul sets aside his own cares; he shows the soldier how to endure the suffering for others’ sakes.
This is where things get nitty-gritty and theological, and I’m not sure if I’ve got it all right, or even exactly how it plays out in real life, but here’s what I’m thinking on the end of the passage. Paul says he endures everything for the sake of the elect, and it is in that context that he says what follows. He knows the elect will be saved, but he wants them to obtain salvation with eternal glory…living fully forever, starting now.
The saying Paul quotes at the end of the passage is the part I’ve always spent time upon. There’s salvation: dying with Christ and also living with Him. There is suffering and reward: enduring and reigning. And then that denial. Those who deny Christ will be denied. So who are these ones? I think, based in the idea of election, these are those who are not elect, who were never saved to begin with. The faithless, on the other hand, are believers who falter, either through willful sin or simple exhaustion. To them, Christ remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself – and they have co-died and co-lived with Him.
So where does it leave me with these friends who have turned their backs on the Savior who suffered for them? I mourn to think that some of them may have denied Him from the start, and they will be denied by Him. But others, even those who have shaken their fists in His face and said, “I will not serve!” may still yet find Him faithful. For He cannot deny Himself, and they are His.
I wish I could figure out who falls into which category. I wish I could shake those who have lost faith and say, “Wake up! Don’t you see? He’s still here! He hasn’t given up on you!” Right now, I don’t have the opportunity to say those words, but at least I can keep my focus and hope He speaks through my life. I also co-died and co-live with Christ. He is my commander. It is He for whom I compete, for whom I work. And it is that that will benefit those friends around me; it is that which will point to the Truth. I love that right in the middle of this whole passage there’s an encouragement to think on all this, and a promise that God will give understanding. I don’t know if I’ve got it yet…but I’ll keep my focus.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Unfathomed Mystery
It's funny - strange, really: grief. One of those mysteries of life we experience as human beings but never really understand.
This week I watched episodes from the show Roswell--not a series of great depth or insight in general, mostly just fluffy teen pulp with aliens thrown in for good measure. An entertaining diversion, but not much more. But there was an episode I saw in which one of the main characters died in an accident and the rest of them dealt with the loss. It was a very real hour of drama. Despite the random alien elements of the show, it took the time to focus on how death affects us as humans, how we grieve.
I've been grieving lately, that's no secret. My niece died in January and the loss has marked me forever. As I watched that episode this week, I shed a few tears for Keren. But here's where grief bewilders me: that recent loss was not at the forefront of my mind as I watched. Instead, I found myself once again grieving the loss of my friend Carrie Wolfe who died in 2003.
I got word of Carrie's death just after we'd finished celebrating my birthday a day early. The next morning, the day I turned 22, I awoke to the knowledge that my friend was gone. It was not the happiest birthday I've ever had.
In the Roswell episode, on the morning after the accident, one of the guys, Kyle, awakes to his typical morning routine but then, remembering, he crawls back into his bed. His dad comes in and, sitting next to him, says, "Not a very happy day, is it? I want to tell you something. It may not seem like much, but you need to know it: your friend died yesterday, not today. Have a happy birthday, son."
At those words, the loss of Carrie washed over me once more, and it was followed by a wave of relief. I'd never realized how closely I've connected Carrie's death and my birthday in my mind. With the words of a fictional character on a silly television show, God reached into my heart and set up a hedge of proper separation between the two events.
I lost a friend, and that loss is a thing to grieve, and the knowledge that Carrie is in heaven is a thing to rejoice over, and the anniversary of the day I was born is a thing to celebrate. But they are not one event. I can commemorate each, day after day. Though they fell together in time, here on this earth, God holds them each in His hands individually, having known since before the dawn of Creation that He would place both grief and happiness in my life and that they would become intermingled. But to give each event its own value, I cannot remember them as one. Instead, I should hold them separately, as precious memories in my heart.
It's funny - strange, really: grief. One of those mysteries of life we experience as human beings but never really understand.
This week I watched episodes from the show Roswell--not a series of great depth or insight in general, mostly just fluffy teen pulp with aliens thrown in for good measure. An entertaining diversion, but not much more. But there was an episode I saw in which one of the main characters died in an accident and the rest of them dealt with the loss. It was a very real hour of drama. Despite the random alien elements of the show, it took the time to focus on how death affects us as humans, how we grieve.
I've been grieving lately, that's no secret. My niece died in January and the loss has marked me forever. As I watched that episode this week, I shed a few tears for Keren. But here's where grief bewilders me: that recent loss was not at the forefront of my mind as I watched. Instead, I found myself once again grieving the loss of my friend Carrie Wolfe who died in 2003.
I got word of Carrie's death just after we'd finished celebrating my birthday a day early. The next morning, the day I turned 22, I awoke to the knowledge that my friend was gone. It was not the happiest birthday I've ever had.
In the Roswell episode, on the morning after the accident, one of the guys, Kyle, awakes to his typical morning routine but then, remembering, he crawls back into his bed. His dad comes in and, sitting next to him, says, "Not a very happy day, is it? I want to tell you something. It may not seem like much, but you need to know it: your friend died yesterday, not today. Have a happy birthday, son."
At those words, the loss of Carrie washed over me once more, and it was followed by a wave of relief. I'd never realized how closely I've connected Carrie's death and my birthday in my mind. With the words of a fictional character on a silly television show, God reached into my heart and set up a hedge of proper separation between the two events.
I lost a friend, and that loss is a thing to grieve, and the knowledge that Carrie is in heaven is a thing to rejoice over, and the anniversary of the day I was born is a thing to celebrate. But they are not one event. I can commemorate each, day after day. Though they fell together in time, here on this earth, God holds them each in His hands individually, having known since before the dawn of Creation that He would place both grief and happiness in my life and that they would become intermingled. But to give each event its own value, I cannot remember them as one. Instead, I should hold them separately, as precious memories in my heart.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Random and Ridiculous
An occasional assortment of things I've found of (humorous) note:
1. T'other day, I drove through a neighborhood on the way home from work. In one lawn stands a lightpost. That day, there was a bright yellow recycling garbage can upturned over the lamp post. I'm still not quite sure why.
2. Sometime in the media blitz that followed the American Idol win of Kris Allen, I saw a clip from the first morning after his win. He arrived at a red carpet press gathering early in the morning after only a couple hours of sleep to begin the morning show interviews. Upon arrival he was greeted by a woman (some sort of publicist or something), who asked him if he'd gotten any sleep and then offered to get him a cup of coffee. He accepted the offer and she took off. A little while later she returned, and pulling him aside between interviews handed him what I know to be a venti-sized Starbucks reusable mug. "Thanks! Oh, look at this," Allen said, admiring the mug. "Yeah, we're being eco-conscious, too!" the woman replied. "Vanilla latte, right?" Kris took a gulp. "Wow," he said. "Thank you."
And I laughed. Originally offered: Cup of Coffee: $1 at a 7-11. Recieved? Mug: $19, Vanilla Latte: $5. Yep, that "cup of coffee" was worth nearly $25. Welcome to your new life, Kris.
3. Yesterday, my friend Courtney and I went to Max & Erma's for dinner. The closest one is more than half an hour away, so it's a treat to head there. I, confident in my memory of the direction, did not look it up again before going. My confidence obviously misplaced, my memory failed me and when I took what I thought was the right exit, I found myself feeling that I was headed in the wrong direction. Courtney offered to pull out her GPS and fix the problem for me by typing in Max & Erma's and getting the Garmin to lead us there. When she did so, the woman in the little box informed me that I was headed in the right direction and that Max & Erma's was less than four miles ahead. Still slightly suspicious, I believed the determined voice of the woman, and drove on. Then she told me to turn right. Doing so, I found myself in a neighborhood. Continuing along, I followed her directions through the neighborhood back to a main road where she told me I'd arrived at my destination. I looked right. There was an STS Tires, Honeybaked Ham, and Curves. None of those were Max & Erma's. After a little fiddling, I found the right town on the Garmin's map and she eventually led us to our destination, which was, after all, in the direction I'd originally thought was correct. Silly GPS.
4. In the course of the above adventure, Courtney informed me that when she first got the GPS she wanted to call it Jack Bauer, 'cause it was so often useful for getting her out of a pinch. But, realizing that the little black box had a woman's voice, Courtney found that Jack Bauer was probably not the best namesake for the little device. So instead, she named it Sydney Bristow. "I usually just call it that to myself, though," she said. "Not many people understand." I, of course, understood completely, having often attempted to name myself Sydney Bristow whenever I have some sort of experience that I can remotely connect to being spy-like.
An occasional assortment of things I've found of (humorous) note:
1. T'other day, I drove through a neighborhood on the way home from work. In one lawn stands a lightpost. That day, there was a bright yellow recycling garbage can upturned over the lamp post. I'm still not quite sure why.
2. Sometime in the media blitz that followed the American Idol win of Kris Allen, I saw a clip from the first morning after his win. He arrived at a red carpet press gathering early in the morning after only a couple hours of sleep to begin the morning show interviews. Upon arrival he was greeted by a woman (some sort of publicist or something), who asked him if he'd gotten any sleep and then offered to get him a cup of coffee. He accepted the offer and she took off. A little while later she returned, and pulling him aside between interviews handed him what I know to be a venti-sized Starbucks reusable mug. "Thanks! Oh, look at this," Allen said, admiring the mug. "Yeah, we're being eco-conscious, too!" the woman replied. "Vanilla latte, right?" Kris took a gulp. "Wow," he said. "Thank you."
And I laughed. Originally offered: Cup of Coffee: $1 at a 7-11. Recieved? Mug: $19, Vanilla Latte: $5. Yep, that "cup of coffee" was worth nearly $25. Welcome to your new life, Kris.
3. Yesterday, my friend Courtney and I went to Max & Erma's for dinner. The closest one is more than half an hour away, so it's a treat to head there. I, confident in my memory of the direction, did not look it up again before going. My confidence obviously misplaced, my memory failed me and when I took what I thought was the right exit, I found myself feeling that I was headed in the wrong direction. Courtney offered to pull out her GPS and fix the problem for me by typing in Max & Erma's and getting the Garmin to lead us there. When she did so, the woman in the little box informed me that I was headed in the right direction and that Max & Erma's was less than four miles ahead. Still slightly suspicious, I believed the determined voice of the woman, and drove on. Then she told me to turn right. Doing so, I found myself in a neighborhood. Continuing along, I followed her directions through the neighborhood back to a main road where she told me I'd arrived at my destination. I looked right. There was an STS Tires, Honeybaked Ham, and Curves. None of those were Max & Erma's. After a little fiddling, I found the right town on the Garmin's map and she eventually led us to our destination, which was, after all, in the direction I'd originally thought was correct. Silly GPS.
4. In the course of the above adventure, Courtney informed me that when she first got the GPS she wanted to call it Jack Bauer, 'cause it was so often useful for getting her out of a pinch. But, realizing that the little black box had a woman's voice, Courtney found that Jack Bauer was probably not the best namesake for the little device. So instead, she named it Sydney Bristow. "I usually just call it that to myself, though," she said. "Not many people understand." I, of course, understood completely, having often attempted to name myself Sydney Bristow whenever I have some sort of experience that I can remotely connect to being spy-like.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Did America Get It Wrong?
For weeks, now, Adam Lambert has been proclaimed the preordained holder of the American Idol crown. He fit the bill, too: powerful vocals, huge personality, determined glint in his eye. Adam singing a cheesy victory song with confetti raining down around him at the Nokia seemed a foregone conclusion.
Then Ryan opened the envelope and read the winner’s name: Kris Allen. The guy from Arkansas, the boy next door, the “dark horse” takes home the crown.
How did it happen? Even before the confetti began to fall online message boards were throwing accusations around: “Did people not vote for Adam because he might be gay?,” “They must have messed up the tally!,” etc. Shall we shut the door on the accusations straight away? America voted. America got what it wanted.
Surprisingly, perhaps, for Simon Cowell, America doesn’t want Whitney, Celine, or Mariah anymore. Paula Abdul might be shocked to learn that glam rock is no longer in style. Randy could be mistaken in thinking that vocal ability is all it takes to make a star. Kara may be surprised to discover that “artistry” has been redefined in recent days.
I’m not trying to put anyone down. I love classic rock and glam rock. I recognize the powerhouse vocals of the divas of the late 20th Century. I state unequivocally that Adam Lambert is an amazing vocalist.
But I think America has chosen from its heart, rather from nostalgia or homage to ability. The past six months have been tough ones for this country. The economy is in bad shape, the promised change is not as quick to arrive as the voters expected it to be, friends and loved ones are still in danger in Iraq and Afghanistan. American Idol has played its role admirably this season. It has been an escape.
For a season that so many found difficult to “get into,” Idol has, in recent weeks particularly, become a nail-bitingly close competition between remarkably different contestants. The final five could not have been more individually unique: Matt, the jazz singer; Allison, the rocker; Danny, the crooner; Adam, the glam; and Kris, the boy with his guitar. Yet their performances on Rat Pack night were almost equally good. There wasn’t a let-down in the bunch. Matt went home, but it wasn’t because of “My Funny Valentine,” the jazz classic. Allison the rocker went home in Rock week, singing Janis Joplin’s “Cry Baby” with a passion that rivaled the original. Danny left after crooning “You Are So Beautiful.” Each went out on a high note.
The same could be said of Adam. While I found his vocal stylings awe-inspiring from the get-go, I have to say I struggled to be an Adam fan. His pattern of back-and-forth manic-and-maudlin performances got dull after the first few. He is a man of extremes: screaming (perfectly on pitch) the lyrics to “Whole Lotta Love” or delicately handling “Tracks of My Tears” in a falsetto, Adam rarely used the middle ground. But in his final performances, he found the center, singing “A Change is Gonna Come” with a strong, full, restrained voice. Even so, Adam didn’t take the crown. America voted for Kris.
When his name was read, Kris seemed shocked. “Adam deserves this,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He was right. That said, he deserved it no less himself. Both men had week upon week of solid performances. Both men had a slight misstep (Adam with “Ring of Fire,” Kris with “All She Wants to Do is Dance”), both an “off” performance (Adam’s “One,” Kris’s “The Way You Look Tonight”).
The difference between the two is the difference between the entertainer and the everyman. Adam is entertaining. No matter whether you loved him or hated him, you watched, just to see what he would do next. Every performance was expertly crafted, so well that the stitches were invisible, but crafted nonetheless. His confident attitude assured us we were in the hands of a proficient. Kris, on the other hand, is everyman. He picked up his guitar or sat down at his piano just like he would in your living room, with gentle, but complete, authority. He understood that he couldn’t compete with the belting power of Adam, or Allison, or even Lil, so instead he imbued his performances with a quiet, moving passion. His humility, so annoying to Simon Cowell, made everyone else smile; his genuine surprise at his success brought joy to everyone watching.
America chose the everyman. With Adam, a distance was created: he was the performer, we were his audience. We reveled in our role, for who doesn’t like to be audience to a great performance? But we didn’t intimately connect with this entertainer, who, after all, seems by all accounts to also be a really nice guy. He was confident, but never cocky. He was polished, but grateful for good advice. He pointed the spotlight upon those who helped him and those he worked with. All this and a great voice, yet Adam’s not the American Idol.
Instead, the American Idol is the guy who said, “Don’t cry, Momma,” when mothers around the country are shedding tears over how to pay next month’s bills. He’s the guy who sang about hopefully pointing a sinking boat toward home when families are trying to keep from drowning in their troubles. He put aside the band and the back-up singers and invited us to join him as he sang. Instead of his audience, we were his listeners, and we heard greatness in the quietude.
2009 is the year that a little movie about choosing love over money took home the Oscar. 2009 is the year that Kris Allen became the American Idol. Both things you wouldn’t expect in a country looking for escape.
Did America get it right? Did the best man win, or even the better man? Let’s set aside the superlatives. They don’t seem to matter at all this morning. Both Kris and Adam deserve their moments of glory. If 19 Entertainment has any foresight at all they’ll give both record deals, because America still loves the diversion of the entertainer, even when our heartstrings are tugged by the decent humility of the everyman.
For weeks, now, Adam Lambert has been proclaimed the preordained holder of the American Idol crown. He fit the bill, too: powerful vocals, huge personality, determined glint in his eye. Adam singing a cheesy victory song with confetti raining down around him at the Nokia seemed a foregone conclusion.
Then Ryan opened the envelope and read the winner’s name: Kris Allen. The guy from Arkansas, the boy next door, the “dark horse” takes home the crown.
How did it happen? Even before the confetti began to fall online message boards were throwing accusations around: “Did people not vote for Adam because he might be gay?,” “They must have messed up the tally!,” etc. Shall we shut the door on the accusations straight away? America voted. America got what it wanted.
Surprisingly, perhaps, for Simon Cowell, America doesn’t want Whitney, Celine, or Mariah anymore. Paula Abdul might be shocked to learn that glam rock is no longer in style. Randy could be mistaken in thinking that vocal ability is all it takes to make a star. Kara may be surprised to discover that “artistry” has been redefined in recent days.
I’m not trying to put anyone down. I love classic rock and glam rock. I recognize the powerhouse vocals of the divas of the late 20th Century. I state unequivocally that Adam Lambert is an amazing vocalist.
But I think America has chosen from its heart, rather from nostalgia or homage to ability. The past six months have been tough ones for this country. The economy is in bad shape, the promised change is not as quick to arrive as the voters expected it to be, friends and loved ones are still in danger in Iraq and Afghanistan. American Idol has played its role admirably this season. It has been an escape.
For a season that so many found difficult to “get into,” Idol has, in recent weeks particularly, become a nail-bitingly close competition between remarkably different contestants. The final five could not have been more individually unique: Matt, the jazz singer; Allison, the rocker; Danny, the crooner; Adam, the glam; and Kris, the boy with his guitar. Yet their performances on Rat Pack night were almost equally good. There wasn’t a let-down in the bunch. Matt went home, but it wasn’t because of “My Funny Valentine,” the jazz classic. Allison the rocker went home in Rock week, singing Janis Joplin’s “Cry Baby” with a passion that rivaled the original. Danny left after crooning “You Are So Beautiful.” Each went out on a high note.
The same could be said of Adam. While I found his vocal stylings awe-inspiring from the get-go, I have to say I struggled to be an Adam fan. His pattern of back-and-forth manic-and-maudlin performances got dull after the first few. He is a man of extremes: screaming (perfectly on pitch) the lyrics to “Whole Lotta Love” or delicately handling “Tracks of My Tears” in a falsetto, Adam rarely used the middle ground. But in his final performances, he found the center, singing “A Change is Gonna Come” with a strong, full, restrained voice. Even so, Adam didn’t take the crown. America voted for Kris.
When his name was read, Kris seemed shocked. “Adam deserves this,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He was right. That said, he deserved it no less himself. Both men had week upon week of solid performances. Both men had a slight misstep (Adam with “Ring of Fire,” Kris with “All She Wants to Do is Dance”), both an “off” performance (Adam’s “One,” Kris’s “The Way You Look Tonight”).
The difference between the two is the difference between the entertainer and the everyman. Adam is entertaining. No matter whether you loved him or hated him, you watched, just to see what he would do next. Every performance was expertly crafted, so well that the stitches were invisible, but crafted nonetheless. His confident attitude assured us we were in the hands of a proficient. Kris, on the other hand, is everyman. He picked up his guitar or sat down at his piano just like he would in your living room, with gentle, but complete, authority. He understood that he couldn’t compete with the belting power of Adam, or Allison, or even Lil, so instead he imbued his performances with a quiet, moving passion. His humility, so annoying to Simon Cowell, made everyone else smile; his genuine surprise at his success brought joy to everyone watching.
America chose the everyman. With Adam, a distance was created: he was the performer, we were his audience. We reveled in our role, for who doesn’t like to be audience to a great performance? But we didn’t intimately connect with this entertainer, who, after all, seems by all accounts to also be a really nice guy. He was confident, but never cocky. He was polished, but grateful for good advice. He pointed the spotlight upon those who helped him and those he worked with. All this and a great voice, yet Adam’s not the American Idol.
Instead, the American Idol is the guy who said, “Don’t cry, Momma,” when mothers around the country are shedding tears over how to pay next month’s bills. He’s the guy who sang about hopefully pointing a sinking boat toward home when families are trying to keep from drowning in their troubles. He put aside the band and the back-up singers and invited us to join him as he sang. Instead of his audience, we were his listeners, and we heard greatness in the quietude.
2009 is the year that a little movie about choosing love over money took home the Oscar. 2009 is the year that Kris Allen became the American Idol. Both things you wouldn’t expect in a country looking for escape.
Did America get it right? Did the best man win, or even the better man? Let’s set aside the superlatives. They don’t seem to matter at all this morning. Both Kris and Adam deserve their moments of glory. If 19 Entertainment has any foresight at all they’ll give both record deals, because America still loves the diversion of the entertainer, even when our heartstrings are tugged by the decent humility of the everyman.
Monday, April 27, 2009
A Few Notes on My Weekend
1. While originally intended to be a party of multiple members of an older generation and multiple members of a younger generation, Friday night ended up being just me and Kristina - so, at least we got one representative from each generation - since the Rebeccas were both busy, as was the Christine, the Courtney, and the Bonnie. Anyway, the purpose and intention of this gathering was to introduce the wonders of Newsies to the younger generation. Kristina, born in the year the film was released (oh, goodness I'm old!) had never seen the movie. As a girl who spent many, many hours of my teen years watching Christian Bale and David Moscow singing and dancing their way through the streets of New York (or, at least, Disney's version of the streets of New York), I felt it was my civil responsibility to correct the egregious error of Newsies omission in Kristina's education.
She liked it. My favorite moment of the evening: after telling me that she'd just recently seen The Dark Knight with her brother and his girlfriend, Kristina began to examine the Newsies DVD case. She pointed to a picture of Jack and said, "Who is this actor? He looks familiar." My reply: "Um, well, that's Batman. Much younger."
2. Friday morning when I got to work at five AM, it was thirty-five degrees outside. By noon on Saturday, it was ninety. This weekend, when I wasn't working, I spent time in front of fans and finding new things to freeze in my freezer.
3. Last weekend I mentioned to mi madre that I'd love to have some of the Tupperware popsicle forms that we had when I was growing up. She went to the basement, pulled out her two sets, and handed them to me. Thrilled, I packed them up and brought them back to Philly. I was not expecting to use them quite this soon, but I was glad to have them yesterday afternoon when I had apples to use up before they went bad, so I quickly made applesauce and then filled the popsicle forms with it. I've been eating applesauce pops for a day...they're delicious.
4. So far, with the applesauce pops, tank tops and shorts, the fans, and the shades down at every sunny window, I've managed to remain at a decent body temperature these past few days. However, I'm looking forward to Wednesday when the high is supposed to be sixty-eight.
And looking forward:
5. Tonight is Chuck's season finale. I live in fear that it will not be renewed. If that is the case, I will weep. Okay, maybe not weep, but definitely be sad. That said, I've decided that I would totally hire Zachary Levi to be in my coffeshop sitcom, if only just to hang out with him, 'cause he seems pretty cool.
1. While originally intended to be a party of multiple members of an older generation and multiple members of a younger generation, Friday night ended up being just me and Kristina - so, at least we got one representative from each generation - since the Rebeccas were both busy, as was the Christine, the Courtney, and the Bonnie. Anyway, the purpose and intention of this gathering was to introduce the wonders of Newsies to the younger generation. Kristina, born in the year the film was released (oh, goodness I'm old!) had never seen the movie. As a girl who spent many, many hours of my teen years watching Christian Bale and David Moscow singing and dancing their way through the streets of New York (or, at least, Disney's version of the streets of New York), I felt it was my civil responsibility to correct the egregious error of Newsies omission in Kristina's education.
She liked it. My favorite moment of the evening: after telling me that she'd just recently seen The Dark Knight with her brother and his girlfriend, Kristina began to examine the Newsies DVD case. She pointed to a picture of Jack and said, "Who is this actor? He looks familiar." My reply: "Um, well, that's Batman. Much younger."
2. Friday morning when I got to work at five AM, it was thirty-five degrees outside. By noon on Saturday, it was ninety. This weekend, when I wasn't working, I spent time in front of fans and finding new things to freeze in my freezer.
3. Last weekend I mentioned to mi madre that I'd love to have some of the Tupperware popsicle forms that we had when I was growing up. She went to the basement, pulled out her two sets, and handed them to me. Thrilled, I packed them up and brought them back to Philly. I was not expecting to use them quite this soon, but I was glad to have them yesterday afternoon when I had apples to use up before they went bad, so I quickly made applesauce and then filled the popsicle forms with it. I've been eating applesauce pops for a day...they're delicious.
4. So far, with the applesauce pops, tank tops and shorts, the fans, and the shades down at every sunny window, I've managed to remain at a decent body temperature these past few days. However, I'm looking forward to Wednesday when the high is supposed to be sixty-eight.
And looking forward:
5. Tonight is Chuck's season finale. I live in fear that it will not be renewed. If that is the case, I will weep. Okay, maybe not weep, but definitely be sad. That said, I've decided that I would totally hire Zachary Levi to be in my coffeshop sitcom, if only just to hang out with him, 'cause he seems pretty cool.
A few random thoughts...and American Idol
Random thought # 1 - The cheese factor of signs in front of churches bewilders me. Is it really helpful to have a ridiculous saying like "Now open between Easter and Christmas!" on your sign? Does it bring people into the church? Oh, and how 'bout the one that I saw the other week: "Come early to get a seat in the back." Was that supposed to be funny, or just insulting to the regular congregation?
Random thought # 2 - On Monday evening I had one of the three worst airplane landings I've ever had. In a rainstorm. It was bad. I'll spare you the gory details, but it was gross, too. I sometimes wonder why I like flying. Is it really worth the headache of takeoff and landing?
Okay, there are the random thoughts I've had today. Now onto American Idol.
I haven't said much about AI this season, mostly because, though I've been following it, I haven't been enthralled by it. But, now that it's down to the homestretch, I thought I'd put down a few words about the remaining contestants.
Comments (in no particular order):
Allison - I like her. She's a great singer, and a solid performer. Of all the girls in all the seasons I've watched, she and Brooke White are probably the only two that I've really rooted for. So, there you have it. And I think Simon was being ridiculous the other week when he made some comment about her not being likeable. She's totally likeable!
Danny - I never really got into him. I didn't ever love him or hate him. There was all sorts of controversy early on about him using his dead wife as a pity thing, but I was just kinda "meh" the whole time. He's got a pretty good voice, but there's very little about his performances that make him stand out.
Adam - I will never have anything bad to say about his voice. The boy can sing. It's amazing to listen to the control and capability he has with his vocal chords. That said, he's kinda boring. He seems to have only two modes: manic and maudlin. One week he plays manic, the next he plays maudlin, then back to manic, then to maudlin again. Sure, no matter which mode he's in the vocals are great, but I would like to see some shades of grey in there.
Kris - He's been my favorite since the very start of the semifinals. Part of that is style preference; give me a boy with his guitar any day over the screeching rock stars or R&B soul singers. But generally, Kris has put in solid performance after solid performance, barely missing a step the whole way along, with good vocals, original arrangements, creative song choices, and great musicianship.
Matt - I've tried to like Matt more than I do. I mean, he's from Michigan, I think my friend knows him, he's kinda cool. I like him, just not tons. Probably it's because he falls into the R&B soul singer category, at least in the eyes of the show, if not in his own. I was glad to see him saved, if only because he certainly deserved to outlast Lil, but he's never completely hooked me.
My Rankings (from least favorite to favorite):
5. Adam
4. Danny
3. Matt
2. Allison
1. Kris
My Prediction (of the order they'll fall in)
5. Matt (could be 4)
4. Allison (could be 5)
3. Danny
2. Kris
1. Adam
It's kinda sad, really. I don't think Adam should win, simply because he hasn't shown range, only extremes. I think Danny should certainly go before Allison, but I doubt that will happen. Actually, I think Matt should outlast Danny because at least Matt has taken risks and tried new things, but for some reason Danny seems to be untouchable. Maybe it's some big fanbase in Madison, WI.
Random thought # 1 - The cheese factor of signs in front of churches bewilders me. Is it really helpful to have a ridiculous saying like "Now open between Easter and Christmas!" on your sign? Does it bring people into the church? Oh, and how 'bout the one that I saw the other week: "Come early to get a seat in the back." Was that supposed to be funny, or just insulting to the regular congregation?
Random thought # 2 - On Monday evening I had one of the three worst airplane landings I've ever had. In a rainstorm. It was bad. I'll spare you the gory details, but it was gross, too. I sometimes wonder why I like flying. Is it really worth the headache of takeoff and landing?
Okay, there are the random thoughts I've had today. Now onto American Idol.
I haven't said much about AI this season, mostly because, though I've been following it, I haven't been enthralled by it. But, now that it's down to the homestretch, I thought I'd put down a few words about the remaining contestants.
Comments (in no particular order):
Allison - I like her. She's a great singer, and a solid performer. Of all the girls in all the seasons I've watched, she and Brooke White are probably the only two that I've really rooted for. So, there you have it. And I think Simon was being ridiculous the other week when he made some comment about her not being likeable. She's totally likeable!
Danny - I never really got into him. I didn't ever love him or hate him. There was all sorts of controversy early on about him using his dead wife as a pity thing, but I was just kinda "meh" the whole time. He's got a pretty good voice, but there's very little about his performances that make him stand out.
Adam - I will never have anything bad to say about his voice. The boy can sing. It's amazing to listen to the control and capability he has with his vocal chords. That said, he's kinda boring. He seems to have only two modes: manic and maudlin. One week he plays manic, the next he plays maudlin, then back to manic, then to maudlin again. Sure, no matter which mode he's in the vocals are great, but I would like to see some shades of grey in there.
Kris - He's been my favorite since the very start of the semifinals. Part of that is style preference; give me a boy with his guitar any day over the screeching rock stars or R&B soul singers. But generally, Kris has put in solid performance after solid performance, barely missing a step the whole way along, with good vocals, original arrangements, creative song choices, and great musicianship.
Matt - I've tried to like Matt more than I do. I mean, he's from Michigan, I think my friend knows him, he's kinda cool. I like him, just not tons. Probably it's because he falls into the R&B soul singer category, at least in the eyes of the show, if not in his own. I was glad to see him saved, if only because he certainly deserved to outlast Lil, but he's never completely hooked me.
My Rankings (from least favorite to favorite):
5. Adam
4. Danny
3. Matt
2. Allison
1. Kris
My Prediction (of the order they'll fall in)
5. Matt (could be 4)
4. Allison (could be 5)
3. Danny
2. Kris
1. Adam
It's kinda sad, really. I don't think Adam should win, simply because he hasn't shown range, only extremes. I think Danny should certainly go before Allison, but I doubt that will happen. Actually, I think Matt should outlast Danny because at least Matt has taken risks and tried new things, but for some reason Danny seems to be untouchable. Maybe it's some big fanbase in Madison, WI.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
"With all due respect, Madame President..."
I discovered this week that one of my coworkers dislikes me so much that she's now quitting because of me. Evidently, I'm impossible to work with. I didn't know. I make light of it, and will continue to do so, because in so many respects she's being ridiculous, but at the same time, it breaks my heart. I've known she didn't like working with me, and I've walked on eggshells with her for months, but nothing has helped. Me being me is just too overwhelming, I guess.
I actually thought we were doing better than we had in the past. She was gone for a couple months on medical leave, and since she returned, I didn't feel the tension quite so palpably. Granted, I'm not a rocket scientist when it comes to reading people, but I thought we were doing okay. I was careful to be interested in her personally, and tried to talk to her as much as anyone one else we work with. I took care not to let my annoyance with some of her actions reveal itself, I just bottled it away and let it go (how's that for mixing metaphors?).
But then, Monday morning, another coworker informed me that she had called our District Manager about me. Wow, skipping the manager this time. I mean, when she was bothered by me before she never did talk to me, but at least she took it to the shift supervisor and store manager levels in order. So, my kind coworker just let me know that this was going on, so that I wouldn't be blindsided by whatever repercussions were going to take place.
I was a little stunned. I like our DM. He's really with-it, and I trusted that he'd have a level enough head on his shoulders not to take one person's side of the story without investigating further, but I wasn't sure what was going to happen. I was totally prepared for him to come and ask me for my POV on the situation. I actually thought through all the other people I've worked with at the store and had conflict or differences with, and thought about how we'd handled those and come through them as friends on the other side. I had a list of references for him to talk to. And I totally wanted to use Jack Bauer's line from this season of 24, when the President asks him how she can know where his loyalties lie and he just growls, "With all due respect, Madame President, ask around."
So, I waited. I didn't initiate any further discussion of the topic. I was pretty sure everyone else in the store knew what was going on, but I didn't ask. Then, on Thursday morning, I worked with my manager. Now, my manager and I aren't best buddies at all, but there's a certain level of respect there. Somewhere, then, in the course of the morning, she informs me that this disgruntled co-worker would be leaving us after next week. To which, I raised my eyebrows.
Then, piece-by-piece, the rest of the story came out. Pretty much, she'd called the DM, and complained about me, and he asked for some specific examples of what I'd done that was so offensive. When she gave him the examples, his response was something along the lines of, "Well, um, that is her job." He also had heard complaints from other people about her, which weighed in to his words to her. Whatever the whole conversation consisted of, the DM's pretty sure that what he said to her made her seriously consider quitting. Then next week's schedule was posted and we're scheduled to open together every single morning...and she quit. Now, supposedly she'll fill out her two weeks, so I get the joy of opening with her every morning this next week, and not letting her know all that I know, but who knows what will really take place? I'll keep you updated.
I still was holding my own counsel about everything at work, not wanting to say anything that would confirm my meanness, 'cause there's plenty of things I could say, but shouldn't, when yesterday, working with a different girl (someone who'd originally thought I didn't like her, approached me about it, discovered we'd just miscommunicated, and has since been a delightful coworker and friend), I got to hear about how this has gone down in the store scuttlebutt. Evidently (and this is exactly why I want to write a sitcom about this kind of job--the drama!), she'd worked with another person the night before, who was telling her everything that the quitting coworker dislikes about me, and my delightful coworker completely turned on this person and laid into them about how ridiculous the quitter is being and how I'm one of the best employees in the store and that the quitter could learn a thing or two from me, etc. She then went on to say that I was a better person than the quitter in so many ways and that when I leave a shift and the quitter is still working I'm barely out the door when she starts in harping on all the things I do that she dislikes, whereas when quitter leaves and I'm left she never hears one word about my frustrations.
I thanked her for the vehement defense, shared that I really don't want to be hated, and wish I could have done something to prevent it or fix it, but don't know how, or even exactly what I've done that's so horrible, and then smiled very broadly on the inside, glad that I'd kept my own counsel. I know I'm not perfect, and I'm sure I'm at fault to some extent, but it is nice to know that other people don't think so.
In other news, I got Slumdog Millionaire on DVD this week, and had my friend Courtney over last night to watch it...and loved it just as much this time around, and then today, when I put it in to listen to the commentary and watch the special features, discovered that they are missing from my disc. I got online to see what the issue was, and evidently FOX messed up and didn't get the special features on the discs (oops!), so there was a help-line to call, and once I proved that I did actually purchase the disc by reading random things of the disc and the box ("what does it say in the white box under the Special Features listing on the back of the DVD case?"), they told me they'd send me a replacement in the mail. Which is all fine and good, except now I'm bummed 'cause I have to wait longer to see the special features!
I discovered this week that one of my coworkers dislikes me so much that she's now quitting because of me. Evidently, I'm impossible to work with. I didn't know. I make light of it, and will continue to do so, because in so many respects she's being ridiculous, but at the same time, it breaks my heart. I've known she didn't like working with me, and I've walked on eggshells with her for months, but nothing has helped. Me being me is just too overwhelming, I guess.
I actually thought we were doing better than we had in the past. She was gone for a couple months on medical leave, and since she returned, I didn't feel the tension quite so palpably. Granted, I'm not a rocket scientist when it comes to reading people, but I thought we were doing okay. I was careful to be interested in her personally, and tried to talk to her as much as anyone one else we work with. I took care not to let my annoyance with some of her actions reveal itself, I just bottled it away and let it go (how's that for mixing metaphors?).
But then, Monday morning, another coworker informed me that she had called our District Manager about me. Wow, skipping the manager this time. I mean, when she was bothered by me before she never did talk to me, but at least she took it to the shift supervisor and store manager levels in order. So, my kind coworker just let me know that this was going on, so that I wouldn't be blindsided by whatever repercussions were going to take place.
I was a little stunned. I like our DM. He's really with-it, and I trusted that he'd have a level enough head on his shoulders not to take one person's side of the story without investigating further, but I wasn't sure what was going to happen. I was totally prepared for him to come and ask me for my POV on the situation. I actually thought through all the other people I've worked with at the store and had conflict or differences with, and thought about how we'd handled those and come through them as friends on the other side. I had a list of references for him to talk to. And I totally wanted to use Jack Bauer's line from this season of 24, when the President asks him how she can know where his loyalties lie and he just growls, "With all due respect, Madame President, ask around."
So, I waited. I didn't initiate any further discussion of the topic. I was pretty sure everyone else in the store knew what was going on, but I didn't ask. Then, on Thursday morning, I worked with my manager. Now, my manager and I aren't best buddies at all, but there's a certain level of respect there. Somewhere, then, in the course of the morning, she informs me that this disgruntled co-worker would be leaving us after next week. To which, I raised my eyebrows.
Then, piece-by-piece, the rest of the story came out. Pretty much, she'd called the DM, and complained about me, and he asked for some specific examples of what I'd done that was so offensive. When she gave him the examples, his response was something along the lines of, "Well, um, that is her job." He also had heard complaints from other people about her, which weighed in to his words to her. Whatever the whole conversation consisted of, the DM's pretty sure that what he said to her made her seriously consider quitting. Then next week's schedule was posted and we're scheduled to open together every single morning...and she quit. Now, supposedly she'll fill out her two weeks, so I get the joy of opening with her every morning this next week, and not letting her know all that I know, but who knows what will really take place? I'll keep you updated.
I still was holding my own counsel about everything at work, not wanting to say anything that would confirm my meanness, 'cause there's plenty of things I could say, but shouldn't, when yesterday, working with a different girl (someone who'd originally thought I didn't like her, approached me about it, discovered we'd just miscommunicated, and has since been a delightful coworker and friend), I got to hear about how this has gone down in the store scuttlebutt. Evidently (and this is exactly why I want to write a sitcom about this kind of job--the drama!), she'd worked with another person the night before, who was telling her everything that the quitting coworker dislikes about me, and my delightful coworker completely turned on this person and laid into them about how ridiculous the quitter is being and how I'm one of the best employees in the store and that the quitter could learn a thing or two from me, etc. She then went on to say that I was a better person than the quitter in so many ways and that when I leave a shift and the quitter is still working I'm barely out the door when she starts in harping on all the things I do that she dislikes, whereas when quitter leaves and I'm left she never hears one word about my frustrations.
I thanked her for the vehement defense, shared that I really don't want to be hated, and wish I could have done something to prevent it or fix it, but don't know how, or even exactly what I've done that's so horrible, and then smiled very broadly on the inside, glad that I'd kept my own counsel. I know I'm not perfect, and I'm sure I'm at fault to some extent, but it is nice to know that other people don't think so.
In other news, I got Slumdog Millionaire on DVD this week, and had my friend Courtney over last night to watch it...and loved it just as much this time around, and then today, when I put it in to listen to the commentary and watch the special features, discovered that they are missing from my disc. I got online to see what the issue was, and evidently FOX messed up and didn't get the special features on the discs (oops!), so there was a help-line to call, and once I proved that I did actually purchase the disc by reading random things of the disc and the box ("what does it say in the white box under the Special Features listing on the back of the DVD case?"), they told me they'd send me a replacement in the mail. Which is all fine and good, except now I'm bummed 'cause I have to wait longer to see the special features!
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