This week everything became green. And it has rained everyday. I haven’t minded. I feel grateful for this little rental house that is our home. And for the rabbits who were eating in our backyard—I think they mistook it for “brush” since the grass has gotten so tall.
I love that I am sitting here on a Sunday morning, with a headache from allergies, drinking my tea that has gotten cold, and the ceiling fan that is buzzing continuously, my cold feet, and dim lights, and I have Joy.
I am not feeling particularly exuberant: I don’t feel like singing happy songs at the top of my lungs, or running around the house, or calling everyone I know to tell them I love them, etc, but I know what Joy is, what Hopefulness is, and what it means, and I merely rest there right now.
I’m probably about to offend some people, and for that I’m sorry. But not sorry enough to not write this blog.
This morning on Good Morning America they did a piece called “Living on the Edge.” It focuses on how the ‘downward’ economy is affecting Americans. They focused this morning on a family of four. I don’t think the mother worked, but the father was a guy that sold stock, or something. Their yearly income averaged $750,000 a year. He lost his job two years ago. Can’t find another one of the same caliber. Their giant house is being foreclosed. They’re $100,000 in debt with credit cards alone. They are receiving food stamps. And the father is now a pizza delivery boy.
I have a hard time feeling sorry for this family (the parents, not the children). I realize this makes me sound like a conservative bitch, but…well, there’s not ‘but.’
I know that the cost of living varies greatly across the country, but I can’t imagine that there is anywhere in the country that $750,000 isn’t more than enough.
I am having such a hard time fathoming $750,000. How can a person who makes that much be in debt? THEY SHOULD HAVE SAVED AND SAVED AND SAVED!
Now, I will say, concerning the house, that foreclosure really does suck. A house is an investment. You don’t know how the market will change. However, their house was more than enough for a family of four. …If they had only paid more in…. and saved more….
I sound like I know everything. I don’t. I’m just frustrated about what I do know.
And its the food stamps. The government is involved now. They always get involved.
Jesus…I’m more of bitch as I go.
I want to help people. I am a generous person. I don’t need (or want) my government to be generous for me. In fact, it pisses me off and makes me feel less generous.
So, this foreclosed, jobless family, needs help. They made mistakes. So let’s help them. Us…help them. Is there not a friend who can give the marriage support? A friend who can help with a family budget? A friend who has a job connection? Can we not keep the government out of it?
This is where it always leads, isn’t it? …back to Jesus, and God, and the Holy Spirit and you and me and our relationship. We were created for each other, to serve each other, to advise and exist and be. Our government has unfortunately become an obstacle to this, rather than a help.
I feel better now. Thank you.
Filed under: Holy Spirit, music, spring, what I've learned about being human, winter
Thank you to my friend Lindsey, who thoughtfully thought of me when the writing department at WKU had the editor of Songwriter magazine come in. She gave me her free copy of their latest issue. I am learning a whole new world. This almost feels like a “club” that I may care about being a member of. I am only the beginning stages, but I can feel, even on this cold and cloudy, wet day, the light seeping through. There is a huge ’songwriters’ world out there that believes in quality over quantity of hair extensions.
***
On a side note, I’m beginning to learn about myself in what people talk to me about and ask about. Here’s an example:
There are people that remember that I write music, write prose, sing and play the guitar. I didn’t think I talk about it all that much in general, but I suppose that is interesting to some people, so they remember it. And that is how I got here. My friend Lindsey thought of me when she received the Songwriters magazine. Very cool. I don’t think of myself much as a song writer really, especially to the caliber presented in this magazine, but the possibilities are beginning to gather in my head.
On the other hand, there have been several occasions that I should speak to old acquaintances and one of the first questions they ask is ” are you still working at that doctors’ office?” (insert dissatisfied tone as you read that question). They are asking me about it in the way I first described it to them: dissatisfied. I didn’t think I talked about my work that much, but I guess when I do, it leaves a flavor in the person’s mouth, like 3 day old sweet tea that was never sweet enough to begin with. I realize I want people to have a different flavor when they finish speaking to me.
***
I write music with my friend Wendell. There are a few songs we’ve written for church things, sort of simple, fun songs. I’ve heard his band play them without me singing, and while it was alittle weird at first, it was actually pretty cool that someone would want to sing a song I wrote. But then I think of the songs that I write that’s only purpose is to exist: I just had to get them out of me. That kind of writing is like giving birth and no one else can care for my child like I can.
In high school I remember reading a poem, I think it was Elizabeth Browning’s “The Book,” in which she wrote of a book she had published that felt like her child. It hurt her when people criticized it or tried to change it. I understood the premise when I read it in high school, but I truly get it now.
All that to say, I’m not sure if I would want to sell my songs. Besides, I’ve never been good at selling anything. I just want to sing my song.
***
Perhaps its the earth’s movement. Spring is springing. I’m egar to break from my shell of sweaters and tabogans. My creativity is sluggish in the cold weather, as is my enthusiasm. So as I peel back the heavy blankets of my twenty-sixth winter, I am, like every year before, anticipatory for this new Spring.
The Holy Spirit works in such facinating ways , I had no idea that the magazine Lindsey handed to me would create such a furver inside me this week. I think the Holy Spirit loves the kinetic energy that winter creates inside of us. Spring would be nothing without the contrast of Winter. A vessel cannot be filled without the potential created from emptiness.
Filed under: Uncategorized
It happens to me once in a while. I get homesick. I’ve felt this one coming on since before Christmas. My brother, Tim, and his wife, Rachel, came in for a few days the weekend before Christmas. First time the whole family (wives, husbands, kids and all) have been together since Casey and I got married. I cried on the way home that Sunday night because it wasn’t enough time. I wanted to go back.
Over the past few years, my relationship with my parents has become something quite wonderful. I call my mom with laundry questions and cooking questions. And when she asks me those personal “married woman” questions that I used to say “no, Mom, you are out of bounds,” I am now more willing to answer. And my Dad is one of the smartest dudes I know.
My parents are building a new house. Given, its only up the hill from where they have been for the past thirty years (its located where my Grandpa’s house was). Truly, I feel its a wonderful tribute to what my Grandpa has done for our family and its what my parents have talked about doing since I was kid, and they’re finally about to achieve this dream. But I’m not the first to admit its weird: my mom has expressed how difficult it is and is going to be. They’ll have to sell the old house, the house they built themselves on land that my grandpa sold to them for a dollar, where they raised their kids, and where Dad and Mom created their own business that has been successful beyond expectation. That house is where I had all of my righteous birthday parties with bad mitten and kickball. In the woods beside it is where my imagination flourished and, I believe, I became friends with God. On the sidewalk out front is where I had my first kiss.
And lately, I’ve been thinking about my grandparents. My grandpa in particular. I miss him like I never thought I would.
At work, my ‘workmate,’ if you will, is from Bowling Green, or shall I say, she lives out in the county. Anyway, she lives within a few miles of her whole family. They see each other everyday. She knows many people who come in the office. She knows their kids, their parents, their siblings. And I’ve found myself a little jealous. However, I must say that I was never good at “knowing” people at home in Meade County either. I left that to my friends Heather and Amanda; they know everybody and their grandma. The best I could ever say was “that name is familiar.” But, none the less, it was familiar.
At one time, home was McLean Hall on Western’s campus. My girls were my family.
I’m sitting in our house where we’ve lived for 3 years. This is the town where Casey and I met. It’s where we unanimously chose to live our life together. We’ve been very happy here; we’ve been hurt badly here. We’ve learned a lot about ourselves here.
I believe this feeling of “home” is another reason our separation from Broadway United Methodist Church was so hard on me. It was beginning to feel like a home to me. Casey and I were there several nights a week. We were getting to know people, becoming familiar, and people knew us. And then it was gone.
Lately we’ve been involved in a bible study/group of people who love Jesus, and that has been my church community and has fed me. But this morning I watched Mass on TV. Because I’m homesick. I haven’t been to Mass since that weekend before Christmas, and before that, I can’t remember. But this morning I was homesick for its familiarity. St. Martin of Tours was my home too (sometimes, more like a foundation).
Listen, I don’t know if this post is more about home or family or church. I think its all the same. Home is the people around you, for the most part. I have great people around me now. But I miss the people I had around me before, people that I can’t get back, places I can’t go to again, times in my life I could only live once. Don’t get me wrong, I am hopeful for the future. Even a little excited about it. But as for right now, I’m a little homesick.
This blog is in response to a question my friend, Lisa, asked me today at work. She asked why I hadn’t tried out for American Idol when they were in Louisville. I told her that I just didn’t like the show. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve watched it. I’ve even made fun of some of the “bad” people trying out, but I always felt strange…a little dirty afterward. I thought that it was because I felt a little jealous of the contestants, “nobody” people with a sudden chance to be “somebody.” I tend to talk myself out of things too often, opportunities, etc, long before I give myself the slightest chance. But here is the heart of the matter:
I believe music is a gift to us from God. Music is math, science, art, entertainment…. Music was given that we may express ourselves and give of ourselves to others; that’s the purpose of blues, to share our sorrows, funk and electronic, to sing and dance and have fun, bluegrass, to share our story, scream-o, because sometimes we have scream to feel better. Music was as meant for Kenny G. as it is for the Insane Clown Posse.
In my mind, American Idol perverts the purpose of music. The producers, owners, and hosts of American Idol are using the contestants to make money for themselves, and not to create music that connects the singer to the listener. It is a selfish exploitation of the Gift.
Filed under: Uncategorized
I love John Stossel because I never feel like he is feeding me bologna, or that he ever wants to. The is the first part of the 20/20 special. You can see the rest on youtube. enjoy.
Filed under: for your information
I realize that the last thing many people want to read is another political blog, especially from a not-so-politically-intelligent blogger. But you don’t have to read this, I just need to get it out of my system.
This political race has been very soul-draining. Come to think of it, I don’t know of any presidential race that hasn’t been exhausting long before it was officially over. But here’s what upsets me about this one: the media. Many of you who know me well know that I hate the main-stream media, and this “season” has only magnified my disgust. They have turned this presidential elections into a “savior” election: that we must choose one man to save this country before it implodes. And I think the candidates have fallen for this idea too.
We have completely forgotten how and why this country came into existence. Many of our families came to this country in search of freedom. This country was created so the people could have a voice in the governing: the people were the governing body. We have a president so that the body may have a leader, but he/she may only lead for a few years so that the next president/leader may bring new voices into leadership. However that leader seems to have turned into the butt of any joke. We elect a leader one day, and then jokingly criticize him the next.
My point is that a majority of Americans forget that congress makes most of our laws and decisions for us. These are the people we elect to represent us locally to be our voice in Washington, but rarely do we take their election as seriously as the president’s. How often have you emailed or called your senator? I think some people, especially the younger generation, don’t realize that you can do that. I want to encourage you (and I’m talking to myself too) to get involved locally with government issues. Vote for mayor. Go to a city planning meeting. Email your state representative when something is pissing you off or something is a good idea.
The next president will not be the president/savior. He will be our nations’ representative. We the people are the only one’s that truly have the power to move this nation in any direction we want it to go.
*if you want to read an intelligent and witty political blog, i would like to encourage you to read Justin’s Blog*
thank you.
Filed under: for your information
1. Wear good shoes: I’m not saying that to be an office associate one needs to wear good shoes; I’m saying as a general rule, wear good shoes, meaning, shoes that help your feet, not hinder them. I’ve never been one for high heels: I’ve rarely been able to over-ride comfort for vanity; however, I love flip-flops. Unfortunately, I have learned that your feet need more than slightly squishy plastic between them and pavement. No plantar fasciitis for me, thanks. And no twisted ankles because I fell out of my Stilettos.
2. Don’t get addicted to prescription pain meds. While one would think that a person who was high would be generally nice, one would be wrong. These people are rude and angry, and quite often, bad liars (and generally sweat profusely).
3. Don’t gain so much weight that your knees can no longer support your body.
4. Don’t smoke. These people don’t heal as quickly. They generally look older than other patients of the same age. The voice is very low and scratchy. The breath stinks. The money they exchange smells of smoke. The papers they hand me smell of smoke. It is generally unpleasant.
5. Wear your teeth at all times.
Filed under: what I've learned about being human
This is a blog of appreciation for my 1994 Buick Skylark. As my 26th birthday rolls around, I realized that I’ve been driving this car, and only this car for 10 years. Mom and Dad had bought it used from a couple in our church, not for me, but as the extra vehicle since my brother, Timothy, and I were driving and still under their roof. But of course over the years it became “my car,” and that became official when my dad gave me the title for it the summer after I graduated college. I don’t think I could thank him enough for doing that for me.
She has had her issues (believe me), but most have been fixable or at least sustainable. The air is out and the speakers are no good (but that’s my fault, and I don’t regret it, thank you to late-nineties alternative and hip hop music!). She is used and bruise and I appreciate her very much. And I realized yesterday, when I drove her to E-town, that I refer to the car as a female but she didn’t have a name. Well, I finally named her yesterday: Lucy.
And yesterday, driving back to Bowling Green in sweet old Lucy, 98 degrees outside, all the windows down, driving 70, my hair smacking me in the face, my shirt sticking to my back, my left arm getting sunburned, and Tom Petty coming through on the radio: I felt alive. I felt good.
Filed under: what I've learned about being human
Yesterday I took the hour track on north I 65 to E-town to see my old friend, Jaime, and her new baby, Sebastian. Jaime and I became best friends in high school even though she was a grade ahead of me. We might as well have been attached at the hip. We were the easy going, hippy hearted, guitar playing, poetry writing teenagers that everyone wants to be, but few have accomplished it nearly as well as we did.
Lauren, Jaime, Me @ Lilithfair 1999
We have a long history, but let me get to the point of this blog.
Sebastian, 3 weeks old
Jaime is a mommy. I know that she was/is totally ready for it, but I’m still taking it in. Sebastian looks just like his dad, Chris. I remember Jaime wanting to name her kid Sebastian back when we were teenagers, before Chris was around, and now her dream has come into fruition.
Jaime and Sebastian, 8/2/08
Chris and Sebastian, 8/2/08
It was really good to just sit and talk and drink strong coffee with them again.
