Ok, not really. Southern California is hardly known for "frightful" weather. It's been beautiful, but it's been COLD. I am freezing my fingers off as I type this. Last night the cowgirl came into my room and found me in the fetal position around the heater again. I was lying so close to it, I almost burned myself. But at least I was warm! (I think I hear my midwest friends laughing at me, but I'm ignoring them.)
What I'd really love is a fireplace in my room. I am a huge fan of fireplaces. Some good friends of mine, who kindly let me live with them last year for about six months, have an awesome fireplace, and they really know how to make a great fire. They'd build it and I'd go fight their big black Labrador for the space right in front of it. (Yeah, that's right--I'M the top dog now.)
But there really is something so magical about a fire. I love the snap-crackle-pop of the dry wood. I love watching the way the flames dance. I like watching the ever-changing shapes in the smoke. I like the musty, earthy smell of burning wood.
You know, I'm really glad it's winter.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Getting Things Into Perspective
So I'm ready to talk about my recent bad mood. Basically I've been stressed that my life isn't quite working out according to plan these days. After two years abroad, I'm actually pretty close to being broke; I'm 29 and living with my parents; I'm stuck in Los Angeles; I am in a transitional phase which, as far as I can see, has no immediate end in sight. All these things have combined in such a way as to make me feel, some days, that I am just going to explode, or run away, or die--maybe all three! Ok, I'm exaggerating a bit--but really, only a little bit. Then today I thought of something.
A couple months ago, I was in Egypt. On my last day in Cairo, I visited a city that is also a rubbish dump. The people who live there actually live with garbage. They collect it, sort it, and do whatever else needs to be done with it. Garbage is literally everywhere. The stench of the place hits your nostrils before you even properly get into the city. My friends and I went there early in the morning, around sunrise, to visit a church that is built into the mountain there. Looking over a wall down onto the roofs of some buildings, I saw the black shapes of giant rats scurrying around over the huge bags of trash. There were lots of rats.
In the streets, I could barely breathe, the smell was so bad. I felt sick. I saw a donkey with no hair on its front legs, just raw flesh, oozing blood. Children skipped barefoot along the roads, which were nothing but dirt and more trash. I saw a woman sitting among garbage, sorting through it all with one hand while she held her breastfeeding baby with the other.
But these people had a dignity about them. There was no sense that they felt sorry for themselves or felt inferior in any way to people who might have more material possessions than they did. They smiled at us, welcomed us. They dressed their children well for school; groups of them passed by, shy smiles on shiny clean faces, the girls' hair expertly braided, white lacy socks turned down at the ankles. Watching them prance by on the way to school, chattering and laughing with each other and us while surrounded by dirt and garbage and all the trappings of severe poverty, I can hardly describe how I felt. It wasn't pity, exactly. They were above pity. I respected them, respected their ability to smile and laugh and carry on as normal people, though living in extremely difficult circumstances. And I absolutely know that, every appearance to the contrary, not one of these people is forgotten by God.
So why hasn't He done something about their poverty? I don't know. I have no answers to the questions of why some people have and some people don't, but for that very reason I should be thankful for the gifts I've been given, rather than focus on anything I perceive to be lacking. I owe it to God, and in some obscure way, I feel like I owe it to those people in the rubbish dump. How many of them would do just about anything to trade places with me? And yet I have been bemoaning the circumstances of my life, my lack of independence, my lack of finances, and who knows what else. I'm starting to see that I dishonor God through my complaining, and quite simply, I believe it hurts His feelings. God has given me so much--talents, opportunities, friends and family who support me, and much more. I can't count my blessings, because they are too many. I've made the terrible mistake of counting my "grievances" instead.
After all that, I'd like to say I've turned over a new leaf and will never complain ever again but unfortunately I know myself too well, and it saddens me to see that I am so prone to it. So maybe that's partly why I'm writing all this here, where anyone can read it. It's my way of apologising to God and giving Him the credit He deserves for taking care of me, which I deny every time I whimper and moan about what I don't have.
Like Job, I have said, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him." But when the going got a little rocky, I slandered God in front of others because things weren't panning out the way I wanted or planned. And I'm sorry, because I know He loves me, and I know I hurt Him with my negative attitude. And I hurt myself.
So am I saying I should just bottle up my feelings and not be honest about them? No. What I'm saying is, I need to start cultivating gratitude in my soul. Yes, I'm going through a tough time right now. But I'm not going through it alone. God is right here with me, and He has also generously provided help in the form of my family and my friends, and THAT'S what I need to remind myself of, more often than dwelling on the extent of my problems.
In the end, if there is one thing that I am learning through this whole crazy time, it's this: God really is faithful, even when I am not. And I'm more grateful for that than for anything else.
"My eyes are ever toward the Lord..." Psalm 25:15a
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall lack nothing." Psalm 23:1
A couple months ago, I was in Egypt. On my last day in Cairo, I visited a city that is also a rubbish dump. The people who live there actually live with garbage. They collect it, sort it, and do whatever else needs to be done with it. Garbage is literally everywhere. The stench of the place hits your nostrils before you even properly get into the city. My friends and I went there early in the morning, around sunrise, to visit a church that is built into the mountain there. Looking over a wall down onto the roofs of some buildings, I saw the black shapes of giant rats scurrying around over the huge bags of trash. There were lots of rats.
In the streets, I could barely breathe, the smell was so bad. I felt sick. I saw a donkey with no hair on its front legs, just raw flesh, oozing blood. Children skipped barefoot along the roads, which were nothing but dirt and more trash. I saw a woman sitting among garbage, sorting through it all with one hand while she held her breastfeeding baby with the other.
But these people had a dignity about them. There was no sense that they felt sorry for themselves or felt inferior in any way to people who might have more material possessions than they did. They smiled at us, welcomed us. They dressed their children well for school; groups of them passed by, shy smiles on shiny clean faces, the girls' hair expertly braided, white lacy socks turned down at the ankles. Watching them prance by on the way to school, chattering and laughing with each other and us while surrounded by dirt and garbage and all the trappings of severe poverty, I can hardly describe how I felt. It wasn't pity, exactly. They were above pity. I respected them, respected their ability to smile and laugh and carry on as normal people, though living in extremely difficult circumstances. And I absolutely know that, every appearance to the contrary, not one of these people is forgotten by God.
So why hasn't He done something about their poverty? I don't know. I have no answers to the questions of why some people have and some people don't, but for that very reason I should be thankful for the gifts I've been given, rather than focus on anything I perceive to be lacking. I owe it to God, and in some obscure way, I feel like I owe it to those people in the rubbish dump. How many of them would do just about anything to trade places with me? And yet I have been bemoaning the circumstances of my life, my lack of independence, my lack of finances, and who knows what else. I'm starting to see that I dishonor God through my complaining, and quite simply, I believe it hurts His feelings. God has given me so much--talents, opportunities, friends and family who support me, and much more. I can't count my blessings, because they are too many. I've made the terrible mistake of counting my "grievances" instead.
After all that, I'd like to say I've turned over a new leaf and will never complain ever again but unfortunately I know myself too well, and it saddens me to see that I am so prone to it. So maybe that's partly why I'm writing all this here, where anyone can read it. It's my way of apologising to God and giving Him the credit He deserves for taking care of me, which I deny every time I whimper and moan about what I don't have.
Like Job, I have said, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him." But when the going got a little rocky, I slandered God in front of others because things weren't panning out the way I wanted or planned. And I'm sorry, because I know He loves me, and I know I hurt Him with my negative attitude. And I hurt myself.
So am I saying I should just bottle up my feelings and not be honest about them? No. What I'm saying is, I need to start cultivating gratitude in my soul. Yes, I'm going through a tough time right now. But I'm not going through it alone. God is right here with me, and He has also generously provided help in the form of my family and my friends, and THAT'S what I need to remind myself of, more often than dwelling on the extent of my problems.
In the end, if there is one thing that I am learning through this whole crazy time, it's this: God really is faithful, even when I am not. And I'm more grateful for that than for anything else.
"My eyes are ever toward the Lord..." Psalm 25:15a
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall lack nothing." Psalm 23:1
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Not Today
I've been trying for the past half hour to think of something to write, but my heart isn't in it. Hopefully I'll be in a better mood tomorrow.
Sorry, gang.
Sorry, gang.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Looking Forward to Thanksgiving
At last, Thanksgiving is almost here! I'm particularly excited this year, because I've missed out on Thanksgiving the last two years, being overseas. I missed Christmas too, but I think not having Thanksgiving was harder in a way. I mean, Christmas at least still gets celebrated in other countries. Thanksgiving? Not so much. Which is a bummer, because what a great holiday! Family, friends, food...oh yeah! I am STOKED.
My sister the cowgirl has been unaccountably domestic this season. She went out and bought all all these decorations and candles and things, including raffia. What the heck IS raffia? But all this festivity was not without a price, and I'm not just talking about money--read all about her adventures in bargain shopping on her blog. All I can say is, sanity is a terrible thing to waste on, and I quote from her post, "cheap junk."
But through her heroic efforts, and no thanks whatsoever to me, our dining table looks pretty awesome. It's a good thing the cowgirl is living here actually, because I don't know the first thing about decorating or domestication. (I admit that, at this stage of my life, it is probably a wilful, determined ignorance. I'm stubborn, what can I say.)
So anyway, here's to a happy Thanksgiving. Remember to enjoy it and to find things to be thankful for, even in the midst of family craziness, of which there is always a guaranteed generous portion--at least in our house.
Take care, be safe if you're travelling, and have an awesome holiday.
My sister the cowgirl has been unaccountably domestic this season. She went out and bought all all these decorations and candles and things, including raffia. What the heck IS raffia? But all this festivity was not without a price, and I'm not just talking about money--read all about her adventures in bargain shopping on her blog. All I can say is, sanity is a terrible thing to waste on, and I quote from her post, "cheap junk."
But through her heroic efforts, and no thanks whatsoever to me, our dining table looks pretty awesome. It's a good thing the cowgirl is living here actually, because I don't know the first thing about decorating or domestication. (I admit that, at this stage of my life, it is probably a wilful, determined ignorance. I'm stubborn, what can I say.)
So anyway, here's to a happy Thanksgiving. Remember to enjoy it and to find things to be thankful for, even in the midst of family craziness, of which there is always a guaranteed generous portion--at least in our house.
Take care, be safe if you're travelling, and have an awesome holiday.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Read This--It Could Save Your Sanity
A few years ago, I did something incredibly stupid. In fact, it might very well be in the top 10 list of stupidest things I've ever done.
I went to the mall the day after Thanksgiving.
Please, if you value your sanity, if you love your life, don't ever ever do this. It's a horrible experience. There is nothing good about it. Nothing, do you hear me? I don't care many sales are going on. I don't care how much money you save. You will have sacrificed your attitude of holiday cheer and goodwill for many many years to come, all for the sake of, oh I don't know, a silver waterpick from Brookstone, or a novelty sweater from Macy's with puffy reindeer pulling a puffy Santa in a puffy sleigh with crinkly golden letters spelling out "Season's Greetings" across the chest. Whatever you buy WILL NOT BE WORTH IT. Trust me.
Going to the mall the day after Thanksgiving is like diving into shark-infested waters with a gaping wound in your leg: you are asking for trouble. If you don't find it in the parking lot (where you will drive around for half an hour before you find a space, at which point someone will appear without warning from another direction and snake it from you, forcing you to drive around for another half an hour before you give up and leave the parking lot to find a spot on the street two blocks away), then you will find it in the stores (where countless numbers of frenzied shoppers will step on your toes as they hurry past, hold up check-out lines by asking the harried cashier questions like "but are you SURE this isn't on sale, I mean even though the tag clearly indicates that there is no discount on this item, still it was on the rack where all the other sale stuff is, can you just check please even though there are 10 billion people waiting in line behind me?", or who will walk really slowly RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, taking up the entire walkway in big groups as you try to hurry from one end of the mall to the other).
You think I'm exaggerating, don't you. Fine. You just go ahead and take yourself down to the Galleria or South Coast Plaza or wherever is closest to you this Friday. If you don't end up feeling like you've descended into the seventh circle of HELL before you've been there for one hour, then you obviously like shopping a lot more than I do. Maybe too much, actually.
I went to the mall the day after Thanksgiving.
Please, if you value your sanity, if you love your life, don't ever ever do this. It's a horrible experience. There is nothing good about it. Nothing, do you hear me? I don't care many sales are going on. I don't care how much money you save. You will have sacrificed your attitude of holiday cheer and goodwill for many many years to come, all for the sake of, oh I don't know, a silver waterpick from Brookstone, or a novelty sweater from Macy's with puffy reindeer pulling a puffy Santa in a puffy sleigh with crinkly golden letters spelling out "Season's Greetings" across the chest. Whatever you buy WILL NOT BE WORTH IT. Trust me.
Going to the mall the day after Thanksgiving is like diving into shark-infested waters with a gaping wound in your leg: you are asking for trouble. If you don't find it in the parking lot (where you will drive around for half an hour before you find a space, at which point someone will appear without warning from another direction and snake it from you, forcing you to drive around for another half an hour before you give up and leave the parking lot to find a spot on the street two blocks away), then you will find it in the stores (where countless numbers of frenzied shoppers will step on your toes as they hurry past, hold up check-out lines by asking the harried cashier questions like "but are you SURE this isn't on sale, I mean even though the tag clearly indicates that there is no discount on this item, still it was on the rack where all the other sale stuff is, can you just check please even though there are 10 billion people waiting in line behind me?", or who will walk really slowly RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, taking up the entire walkway in big groups as you try to hurry from one end of the mall to the other).
You think I'm exaggerating, don't you. Fine. You just go ahead and take yourself down to the Galleria or South Coast Plaza or wherever is closest to you this Friday. If you don't end up feeling like you've descended into the seventh circle of HELL before you've been there for one hour, then you obviously like shopping a lot more than I do. Maybe too much, actually.
Monday, November 22, 2004
Bear With Me
I think that if I weren't human, I would have made a pretty good bear, because I like the idea of hibernating. I think I would be good at it too. For example, I spent a fair amount of time yesterday lying on the floor of my bedroom, my body curled as closely as possible around the standing heater. The rest of the time I was curled up on a couch watching a movie, under a blanket and bundled up in sweats, socks, beanie, and gloves. I moved very little all day.
(If that sounds boring to anyone, well, it's just proof that you were not cut out for bearhood, as I am. Maybe you would be more like a mongoose or a flamingo, I don't know. You tell me.)
In addition to hibernating, I would never again have to worry about gaining holiday pounds, because bears are SUPPOSED to be fat in winter. I wouldn't have to try and find excuses for that extra helping of turkey and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving dinner. I'd just say, "Hey, it's almost time to hibernate, need the padding to keep warm and all." Then the day after Thanksgiving I would go into my room and not come out for 6 months, at which point I'd be skinny again. No dieting! It would be great!
I'd probably wake up for Christmas though.
By the way, because I can see my friends rolling their eyes as they read this, I want to make it clear that I am not saying I am fat. I'm just saying I COULD be and it wouldn't matter, because I'd be a bear and it's ok for bears to be fat.
Happy Monday.
(If that sounds boring to anyone, well, it's just proof that you were not cut out for bearhood, as I am. Maybe you would be more like a mongoose or a flamingo, I don't know. You tell me.)
In addition to hibernating, I would never again have to worry about gaining holiday pounds, because bears are SUPPOSED to be fat in winter. I wouldn't have to try and find excuses for that extra helping of turkey and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving dinner. I'd just say, "Hey, it's almost time to hibernate, need the padding to keep warm and all." Then the day after Thanksgiving I would go into my room and not come out for 6 months, at which point I'd be skinny again. No dieting! It would be great!
I'd probably wake up for Christmas though.
By the way, because I can see my friends rolling their eyes as they read this, I want to make it clear that I am not saying I am fat. I'm just saying I COULD be and it wouldn't matter, because I'd be a bear and it's ok for bears to be fat.
Happy Monday.
Friday, November 19, 2004
No Creative Title Today, Sorry
Yesterday I registered at a temp agency. I got to take a typing test, which was fun. And for once I'm not being sarcastic. I like typing tests because typing is one of the few clerical skills that I do really, really well. In fact, I ROCK at it. I don't rock at a lot of things, especially in an office setting, but typing--oh yeah, baby. Bring it ON.
So in the lobby of this temp agency, they had some washed-out watercolors of palm trees with squiggly watercolor writing underneath. It took me awhile to decipher the words on one of them; for a few minutes I was convinced that it said "such itchy palms." Then I figured out that "itchy" was actually "stately."
This happens to me a lot actually, misreading things. Once I was driving along a street in Concord, CA, and passed a Chinese restaurant called Peking Boy, but at first glance I swear I thought the sign said Peeking Boy. (Coincidentally, this restaurant was next door to an adult entertainment shop--no joke.)
One of the funniest signs I ever saw was on a lonely stretch of road near the top of New Zealand's north island. It was a wooden board with white painted lettering that said, "Will the bastard who stole my blue canvas tarp bring it back?" And no, I didn't misread that one at all.
Funny how I started out talking about one thing, but ended up somewhere completely different. This also happens to me a lot.
So in the lobby of this temp agency, they had some washed-out watercolors of palm trees with squiggly watercolor writing underneath. It took me awhile to decipher the words on one of them; for a few minutes I was convinced that it said "such itchy palms." Then I figured out that "itchy" was actually "stately."
This happens to me a lot actually, misreading things. Once I was driving along a street in Concord, CA, and passed a Chinese restaurant called Peking Boy, but at first glance I swear I thought the sign said Peeking Boy. (Coincidentally, this restaurant was next door to an adult entertainment shop--no joke.)
One of the funniest signs I ever saw was on a lonely stretch of road near the top of New Zealand's north island. It was a wooden board with white painted lettering that said, "Will the bastard who stole my blue canvas tarp bring it back?" And no, I didn't misread that one at all.
Funny how I started out talking about one thing, but ended up somewhere completely different. This also happens to me a lot.
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