handwriting and hula hooping...

Ok, so, I finally have proof of how bad Paulo's handwriting is. He wrote me a note last night because I needed to call a lady and give her an update on something.

Here is the writing of a 31-year-old male that has two finance degrees:




And LR (Loyal Reader) sent me this link earlier today. It's brilliant.

Absolutely brilliant. The music. The hair. The costumes. The hula hoops. Terrific. I love me some Hero. Bep, do you remember our good Hero memories?

honesty

As you know, I crave honesty, warts and all.

This is a pretty new thing for me--I know, you may be surprised, but I used to be quite reserved about things that just shouldn't be talked about. I still am. I was at church a couple of weeks ago and was in a circle of people and they were talking about a church employee and how he's always so cranky and they all got a good laugh likening his moodiness to women's menstrual cycles. I didn't laugh. I barely smiled. I don't enjoy those jokes. I find them crass. Sue me.

However, I do enjoy people being honest about their real feelings about their real everyday goings on. My friend Kate has been gracious enough to let me read her invitation-only blog and she writes about the struggle of trying to have a baby while her husband's deployed and she's living back with her parents again.

I support a group called XXX Church. Yeah, their tagline: #1 Christian Porn Site. They are Christians being real and helping people with porn addictions and helping them be accountable. They don't cast stones or judgments, they just provide hope for people that are slowly being devoured and destroyed. I watched a video of theirs yesterday about a guy finally coming to terms with his addiction and he burned all his porn. That's courage. That's honesty. Also honest: I totally find the guy introducing the video adorable and attractive. He's got baggage? Sure. Me too.

And then a former coworker turned blogger extraordinaire wrote something this morning (in a totally different arena from infertility and porn) that made me appreciate him even more and laugh out loud all at the same time. Let's be real, people, and take the shiny coating off things. Let's tell people what's really going on and I think we'll find a lot less shame in this world, a whole lot more compassion, and people bringing what is in the dark out into the Light and finding peace and redemption.

Here is his blog (copied totally without his permission):
One of many title options, #1 Creepy Old Fart, #2 Sick and Illegal, #3 Shouldn’t Even Think About It…
…let alone WRITE about it. But this is my blog and what the hell?

When did I go from being the young, healthy buck with a “drive” (that’s what I’m using to describe me as a horny kid back in the day) to creepy old bastard that is trying not to stare at the 17 year old babysitter, let alone clear my head of the thoughts that can only get me in trouble.

Why am I even writing about this?

I don’t know where the age break is when I started to say…”SHE is 17? She looks 27!” That’s what I’d be telling the officer. I never used to say that line. I never thought twice about age. I just thought…”hot!” no matter her age…17 or 35. At some point I started marvelling at their age.

I guess it’s just me getting older, being married, having a kid and then my wife tutoring kids that often don’t look like kids.

I know I COULD write more on this topic, but the authorities will probably show up at the door. Instead the thoughts stay locked away in the dark chamber that is my twisted head.

I should delete this.

And here's my comment:
hey, it’s ok–I find myself being wildly attracted to a newly 18-year-old at my second job. seriously. high school senior.

I generally just have to walk away and shake my head at myself.

and it’s the hormones in the milk, I tell ya…makes these kids look 30 before they hit 18! ;)

I had a dream...

...that I left less-than-appropriate voicemails on Paulo's phone until I filled his inbox.


I woke up a little spooked, so I superstitiously checked my phone to just make sure nothing funny had happened.

And no, I didn't make any outgoing calls while I was asleep...but I promise you this: Paulo's phone number is totally in my phone now. I am not even kidding.

His full name and a number are there.





I'm totally creeped out.

too much to ask?

As always, I have more things I'd like to write about, but this just happens to be the shortest thing on my mind:

I have a question. I'm actually asking here...no sarcasm/rhetorical question present:
Am I asking too much or expecting too much for me to want the possible beaus who email me to use correct grammar and spelling? I try not to pass judgment, I really do--but I just can't seem to get over it. No matter how cute he is (as we all judge THAT book by the cover) I can't seem to get excited about him because of the way he writes. Example 1: a guy's profile online. He's cute, but this is his "intro" paragraph. I can't get past the weather/whether debacle, or using "to" instead of "too." Oh, and his intellectual comment was the total and final turn off.

I am moving back to Atlanta this July to attend grad school. I lived in Atlanta until five years ago when I moved to Savannah where I currently live. I love living here near the ocean. Going swimming, fishing, lying out under the sun, or just walking down the beach are all things I love to do. That said I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to go to grad school. It is one of those goals I have for myself. Fortunately, I do like Atlanta, other than the traffic that is.
As for me, my passion is art and has been for a long time. I can be blunt at times, perhaps a bit to honest, and I definitely have a sarcastic sense of humor. I enjoy the outdoors weather it be the beach or the mountains. I enjoy traveling and have been to a few places in Europe, but there is so much more that I want to see. I am not much for the stereotypical bar scene. I do enjoy going out with friends and shooting some pool.
As for what I am looking for in a woman, it is fairly simple. Intelligence, because I want her to be as smart as I am (I am smart, but no brain surgeon), a good conversationalist, and a great sense of humor (hopefully you can take the sarcastic comments and give as good as you get). If you want to know more, just email me.

Ugh. And I know it's not fair--but seriously, "I am smart" doesn't really get reflected through your grammar woes, I'll tell you that much.

I think about Paulo and his abysmal handwriting, his spelling and grammar probably aren't up to my holier-than-thou standards, but he's a totally nice and great guy (more on working with him last night until like 1:30 am later...probably tomorrow--too much work to do today!) and he doesn't deserve to be judged on his handwriting alone.

I won't give the afore-quoted guy a chance because the tone of the thing is really where I'm turned off. I don't like his vibe. The search continues, I suppose.

you're better than that

I'm not really in an epic mood this afternoon, but there are a couple of things I would like to share.

There is this one fellow crew member at TJ's that seemingly hates me. And I'm not really sure why. I mean, there are people all over that probably hate me, but I can generally pinpoint why (I say things that are hurtful and worth hating, that's for sure). This guy, though, I don't know. I know he has a problem with women in authority (not that I exactly am, I'm just training...maybe that's the problem), and he especially doesn't like white women. He's from a very traditional country and I get that and I really do try to respect it. In the same vein, though, we're in the US where women are allowed to hold whatever position they see fit and can accomplish any job they so choose.


So, I've had a few run-ins with him and they tear my stomach up. I HATE confrontation. I will defuse any situation...but get me really hopping mad and then I get emotional, then I lash out--verbally of course. Well, I told one of the higher ups (the guy right below our store's captain) and he suggested that I start to document any incidences between me and this other employee. So I did and the captain and I spoke of it--and this guy can totally be nice and charming, it just seems like I bring out the worst in him, so my captain was totally supportive, but she admitted she's never seen that side of him. But she concluded before I did, aloud at least, that that's probably because she's the boss and controls whether or not he stays employed.

Anyway, back to the point. I was in the office last night with Paulo and he was talking to another full timer as she just got back in town and needed to be updated on some things. So, the offending employee (OE) came to the saloon doors of the office and was waiting. I had keys and I could get him his register drawer if he needed it, so I offered him his drawer. He responded with, "I'm here to talk to him." Fine. Paulo ended his conversation and helped out OE. I was just so pissed that I had to start out the night with that kind of comment (I could have helped him with what he needed, but he wanted to take yet another chance to put me in my place) that I just shut down. When I get super pissed, I become eerily quiet. That's my mother in me. I respond to questions in short, clipped, hushed tones and they are generally monosyllabic, "Fine," "Ok," or my favorite: "I don't actually care." I say all of these in a very no-eye-contact, reserved sort of way. I have my battle walls up and am ready for attack. OE walked away and Paulo asked me a question about something silly (probably about the cookie that some old man made me and brought in on a paper plate with plastic wrap over it and my name written in black marker on the wrap and Paulo ate my cookie! But, feeling bad, he replaced it with a not-so-homemade cookie that we sell in the store, but I digress) and I just looked down at my notebook and didn't respond. My second mother Maggie walked in and she spoke to us, I didn't respond, so Paulo nudged me and was like, "Let's ignore her together," loud enough for her to hear. She walked away and he was like, "Hey, what's wrong? I noticed the total mood shift." Now, let me say here: I have a lot of male friends. I've had more than one love interest, and not many are really that plugged in to changes in the female mood and if they do notice, they don't know how to respond.

Ok, so he said, "What's up with you and OE?" I said, strained voice, "I don't know. I've never done anything to him and yet he's just so rude. It makes it hard for me to do my job." He asked what has happened (our captain had given him a heads up seeing that as he's the third in command at our store) and that's when I just got snotty--"Like the other night when I asked him to open up register 5 and he responded with F- that. And then later I had to ask him to help close up the front end of the store and he acted like he didn't hear me. And then a couple of weeks ago he was in the front office with another coworker (she happens to be young, good looking, not in a position of any authority, and his same ethnicity) and I asked if he needed anything--as he shouldn't be hanging out in the office--but of course I didn't say that, and he responded, "I wasn't talking to you." He's just so rude and I'm tired of being the only one that gives a damn and says anything. I just hate (cue me walking away) that he gets to be an asshole and no one cares."

Paulo responded, "You're better than that."

And I muttered, "I know." So I continued where I was heading and thought about it. Paulo's totally right, I am better than that. I'm better than whining and complaining and calling someone names and getting nasty. Yes, I was right to tell the people that needed to know what was going on. But I need to trust them to do their jobs too, and they have rules and things they have to follow for this sort of thing. And I'm better than this. I've been taught to turn the other cheek and just continue to be Christ's example regardless of what I think of the other person. And temper tantrums are not attractive, they aren't professional, and they aren't effective either. And they certainly aren't the greatest quality this company would be looking for in a future manager. So I put on my Fake It Till You Make It smile (I wore that one many a' time during evening activities during camp) and then later on I apologized to Paulo. I apologized for losing my cool and he grabbed my hand and said in all seriousness, "If that's you losing your cool, then you don't have anything to worry about in life." So that was nice to hear. It's just nice to be around people that believe in me (especially really cute hunky ones! Oh, I found out: He's Czech. So, if you were wanting a better mental picture of complexion/nose composition, there ya go.) He was very supportive and was pretty much telling me to shake it off, and again: I'm better than letting some chauvinistic jerk get to me.

I have a job to do and I'm going to do it. And as the other full-timer of the night (who has also been uber supportive as of late) said on the same subject, "You're here to do a job and you're doing a good one. It's not your job to make sure everyone likes you. It's your job to complete your tasks, do them well, and make sure the customer gets the best experience possible. If one little person doesn't like you, it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Sure, don't treat him poorly. But just realize that there's only so much you can do, you can't be friends with everyone, and move on."

I really feel like I've carved myself into a niche there at TJ's and I feel almost invaluable. That's a nice feeling. It's a nice feeling to know that I can keep that job and enjoy it while pursuing other interests. It's a nice feeling to know that I'm pretty good at this job.

Enough about all of that.

I just got a very important email pertaining to my Chrysalis weekend...so I need to go read that and respond! Oh, and I totally found another total cutie online! Hooray!

(PS: still no word from Piano Boy :( )

(PPS: this turned epic, sorry. I can't help it!)

no seriously, one of the coolest things ever

so most of you know (or you should!) that I can't live or breath without music. the purchase of my iPod was one of the best decisions I've ever made. When I get the chance, I'm out enjoying live music. I purchase WAY too much music through iTunes. I have my iPod connected in my car, in my house, everywhere. I don't go anywhere without turning some kind of music on (and sometimes NPR)--I need the sound. I don't like just sitting quietly. I want to hear something.

Ok, so with that said, there's this show on NPR called All Songs Considered. I find a lot of the new and upcoming music I listen to from this show. Well, the show's creators (Bob Boilen (host) and Robin Hilton) have this blog I subscribe to. And yesterday's blog blew me out of the water.


There's this application you can download for your iTunes. It's a concert visualizer, iConcertCal.

It takes all of the artists in your iTunes and tells you when any of them are in concert anywhere near your city. No seriously. The coolest thing I've experienced in a long time.

Part of the blog Robin Hilton talks about not knowing out Highway to the Dangerzone by Kenny Loggins got in his iTunes and is pretty much mortified that it's there. And he's even more disturbed that Kenny Loggins is in concert soon near DC.

So I scrolled through my own iConcertCal and was pretty pleased (this week in Atlanta: Abigail Washburn, Kate Walsh, She Wants Revenge, James Taylor, Amy Lavere, Nada Surf (I think I might try to make that show), Mary Gauthier and The Packway Handle Band).

And then Sunday, July 13 rolled around and I cringed. LeAnn Rimes is apparently playing at Turner Field. And then the worst thought is, "Why is LeAnn Rimes in my iTunes?" And then I remembered: I have the Coyote Ugly soundtrack. It's true. And I actually like it. And her contribution to it isn't that bad, so I take that cringe back. I, however, will not be going to that particular Braves game where it'll be LeAnn Rimes, Brooks and Dunn, Kenny Chesney, all with, get this, SAMMY HAGAR (you know, of Van Halen fame). Apparently they're all doing this show together after the Braves game that Sunday. That's disturbing.


Ok, enough about that. Paulo and I had a lovely, lovely, lovely night but I don't have time to write about it now because I was late to work and a little behind. More later!

Literary tricks and what two subjects to never put in the same sentence

Last night started out on a rocky foot...the first 30 minutes or so I was in the store were very awkward between Paulo and I. He greeted me as soon as I walked in, but then was randomly standoffish. I think it's just the fact that he's a boy. Seriously. But later on he said how much my letter made his day--especially the part about the girl's skin. He liked how I brought it up again later at the end--"that must be a literary trick or something." HA! It apparently made him laugh until he was out of breath. Which is nice, because he's a self-admitted under-laugher. He said he generally chuckles, but doesn't have a belly-deep laugh but maybe once a month. How sad!

So, I think Paulo and I are on a different plane now (I'm sorry to dash your Paulo-loving hopes!). He's just a fun guy that shaves his head, yet misses some so there's a patch of slightly-longer-than-bald hair behind his right ear and a guy that during our TORNADO last night goes out into the storm to pull this lady's car up to the front door so she could easily get her three small kids to the car with her groceries without having to face too much of the storm. No seriously. How cute. He was soaked...and I may or may not have seen him changing out of his soaked shirts into a sweatshirt...and he may or may not be hairy (and I'm totally ok with that. I'm more than ok with that, actually.)

Anyway, I think he'll just be a terrific friend--maybe soon we can all go to that Braves game as planned and without a romantic agenda, hopefully we can have fun. As my second mother at work, Margaret, and I discussed last night (she knows the whole saga)--sometimes you've just got to be a friend to someone to show them Jesus. Preach, sister! And Paulo maybe catching a glimpse of Christ is WAY more important than me and him making little Paulos. Wait. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't mention illicit sex and Jesus in the same sentence. Paragraph even. Shoot!

I was in charge of the front office again last night (I'm getting GOOD) and he sent the new full timer home (the guy just transferred to our store and just looked slap worn out)--so we closed down the books again and it was fun. There are some papers we have to initial, and I automatically initial anything ABL--so he asked about the B. I told him and he remembered he asked me the same thing last week...and without me asking he volunteered that his middle name is Reed. Too cute cause that's an adorable name for his future child...but I'm not talking about babies anymore, ok?

Ok, gotta head to a meeting.

a very weird experience indeed...

There's this guy that works at my day job. He's a loud and close talker. He smells funny, but I attribute that to his being from a different country.

I've never had a non-work-related conversation with him. His laugh scares me.

And I saw a post on one of our databases and he was going to be out of the office for a couple of weeks as his wife (that I learned was arranged to marry him, they had never met before the wedding) was about to have a baby.


So I thought it weird that I heard his voice several cubes over. Then he walked in my cube as I had my headphones on and had just posted my last blog. I looked up at him strangely and he thrust a photo album at me. And stood there as I was forced to look at infant pictures.

That's weird, right? It's not just me? You shouldn't go up to someone you don't really know and force them to ooh and ahh over your newborn, right?

I'm not an oooher nor an ahhher, so I was forced to look. Forced to comment on how pretty she is and say congratulations. He then moved the cube over from me and started the whole ritual again. I can now hear him the next little section over and I can tell he's doing it to those people who certainly don't know him either.

Well, I guess it's good that he's a proud papa. But I'm still weirded out. Maybe some tortilla chips will help...

p.s. I love you

No seriously, best film I've seen in a long time. I mean, I saw Baby Mama (I'm sorry Jana! I was with Jay Dempsey and with his gay charm he made me see it with him even though I said I'd go with you!) last week, but that's different.

I rented this movie because I am a hopeless romantic. I love romantic comedies. For a long time I hid that part of myself. I hid under the pretenses that I only enjoyed weird, avant garde films. Artsy films. Indie films. And I would shun blockbusters. Well, I do still shun blockbusters, but only because I'm just not into them. I've never seen one Indiana Jones movie and don't plan on seeing the new one. I've only seen two Star Wars movies, under the supervision of others, and I can't name them. I enjoyed them, sure. I appreciate what they mean for so many--they're just not my cup of tea. I will watch any movie, sure. Bo once convinced me I needed to see Jackass and I really enjoyed it (so dumb!). He also turned me on to The Transporter--I've found I really enjoy dumb action films (come on, XXX with Vin Diesel is a work of art--art, you know, like the kind that elephant that can paint makes). Anyway. I do like an occasional documentary, will watch avant garde and indie films if I get the chance, but if you ever catch me at the movie rental store, you will most likely find me renting something sappy. Now, it may be in a foreign language and be an indie release, but still--there is some sort of love story. I just enjoy them.

So I rented p.s. I Love You Saturday night. I saw an ad for it and I like, nay, LOVE Jeffrey Dean Morgan (you know him--he was Denny on Grey's Anatomy!)--talk about ultimate Fridge candidate! I'm a sucker for beards. Man oh man.

Well, so, I won't ruin the movie for anyone--but good Lord I haven't cried that much in a movie in a long long time. Now, I was pretty darn tired and groggy when I watched it--but still, what a cute and poignant film! I really liked Hilary Swank and thought she portrayed the emotion she was supposed to portray with a reality that is rarely seen in films. Oh, and Lisa Kudrow is hilarious as is Harry Connick, Jr. although I don't think he's supposed to be. So, ladies, either ditch your various boys and alternative lifestyle lovers, and watch this one on your own--or drag him (or her, whatever) through it too--but it's the ultimate chick flick. And boys: rent this one. It'll gain you some points. And you just might enjoy yourself.

I also rented Lars and The Real Girl. Ryan Gosling (yeah, THAT Ryan Gosling) plays Lars...a guy that has a hard time with reality and falls in love with a life-size doll. The creators of the film did their job...I was so damn connected to that doll that when she "dies" I was so sad!

But back to the point...back to what you sick people come here for:

Right, to the Block Party. Here are some photos:

Neighborhood Block Party

My church is in the very heart of downtown Atlanta and the neighborhood is pretty rough--and we're there to show even the lowest of the low that there is hope. It was a great afternoon. The music was terrific, the hotdogs and popcorn were totally appropriate and I met a lot of excellent people.

Speaking of excellent people, I shall highlight two boys. (Jessie, thanks for coming! You and Nicki were definitely a joy to be around...I'm not trying to downplay your importance...but my public must know about these boys!)

First highlighted boy: Officer Aaron Z. We had hired two police officers to just be present during our party--they ate and drank lemonade with us--you know, when people see cops acting like normal people in a peaceful setting, it kind of helps the perception of having them in the neighborhood. Well, when Aaron walked up, his partner had yet to arrive. And he's got these adorable puppy dog blue eyes and so I introduced myself and welcomed him to our party. We just chatted and then that was that. Half-way into the bands playing, I went back over to he and his partner just to thank them again for their time and just to chat. Anyway, they tell me cop stories of the neighborhood and then Aaron tells me about his apartment he has to live in because he can't live in his house. Apparently when he bought his house the basement was covered in black mold, but the seller didn't disclose it. So, after living there for a year his dog (I know! boys and dog stories get me every time) got really sick--and that's when they found the mold. He had to send his dog back home to Michigan (wait, Paulo's from Michigan...weird.). So, he was really into this salsa band that was playing (the keyboard/trumbone player of said band is Featured Boy #2) and went and got their info once the evening was done. Apparently his house is almost ready to be lived in again and he wants to have a luau, with the salsa band (Grogus). And he turned to me, with his very official police man business card and said, "Hey, why don't you come to my luau too?" So, I think after one night, I've been invited to this man's home for salsa music and hopefully a pig on a spit. I like my dinner being cooked over open flame. It's just more fun that way. And no, I haven't called him yet. I just don't think he's what I'm looking for--although we were in mid-story when the band started playing Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone) and he stopped mid-sentence and turned away from us and toward the stage and said over his shoulder, "Now that's a good song." I don't think he has Jesus residing in his heart--but I think he's open to it. Maybe I can be his grandma too.

That's actually an excellent idea.

Boy #2 is a lot more of a sticky situation. I just realized that Boy #2 (might as well name him his real name, Kevin) is the brother-in-law of the guy that I'm friends with at church--the guy that plays the drums and the guy that is leading the boys' Chrysalis weekend the week before mine in September. Greg reads my blog from time to time. So, Greg, I have to be honest: I really had a hard time deciding on whether or not to write any of this at all. And then I decided: it's my blog (and I can cry if I want to, cry if I want to). I don't mean to put people in weird situations or write about things that alienate my friends. But this blog is somewhere where I can vent and tell people exactly what's going on in my head. So, here goes.

Greg, I think your brother-in-law is a super swell guy. He's quiet, kind of shy, a super-de-duper talented musician, and he's a diehard Braves fan. I think it says a lot about a man's character that loves a team that consistently lets him down. He and I actually "officially" met earlier in the day, and chatted a couple of times throughout the afternoon--but the real conversation started when the stage was being deconstructed. I mentioned how I was planning on going to the Braves game the night previous (man! I should have bought tickets for Paulo and I...) and how I was almost stuck with some tickets--and the leader of the praise band (Adam, with whom I went to high school) had told me of Kevin's love and dedication to the Braves--and I was going to call him up just so they wouldn't go to waste. Kevin's eyes certainly lit up at that--"Oh, you should have! If I ever don't have a gig and I'm in town, I'm at the stadium. I've been to six games already this season." That's when he gave me HIS card. And told me let him know the next time I wanted to go to a game. So, really, I didn't get these guys cards along with a promise that they want to love me forever...as I told Jessie, it's just because guys feel comfortable around me. I'm a friendly person and non-threatening. But Kevin and I spoke of his love of Athens (a town in Georgia where the University of Georgia is...and it has a huge music scene: REM, Of Montreal, the B-52's, Matthew Sweet, Widespread Panic, Neutral Milk Hotel, Drive-by Truckers, etc.), I told him about Rebuilt (also in Athens) and how he can't decide if he wants to move there because that's where he went to school and he has lots of friends and fans there (he's a very accomplished musician...you wouldn't know it talking to him, I just know if from the other guys in the band and Greg--he's been on tour with Widespread Panic, about to go on another national tour) or if he should live somewhere that might be a challenge (in my head: I've always wanted to be with a musician, I like the way they see the world and I certainly love Athens, but I digress)--anyway, we have this music thing in common, and the biggest: this Jesus thing in common, and he's nerdy and I like that. He's into praise music. I like Fridge, but I have a soft spot for Nerd too (I'll attach a picture of my senior prom date who is an excellent friend...and I may or may not have had a crush on him senior year (this is us Dec 2006))--he's the guy in the hat, not the Latino waiter:
So, there are several pictures of this Kevin individual in my Block Party photo album...so as it stands we're just baseball and church friends...but since my heart's been transformed into being not so much a love interest, but a life interest in Paulo...well, I'm on the fence as to whether I want to weather having a real interest in this guy. It's a precarious fence that I could be tipped off of at any point...but as of right now, all I want to do is pray and not get my heart mangled any more than it is the Lord's will for it to be.

I'm optimistic. I have a hope that is indefatigable. I'm resilient. And I know that the Lord guides my every step and one of these days my uncontainable passion that I expend on boys will be spent on the right boy and it'll all be worth it.



But until then, I appreciate everyone's prayers and support...And in two hours I'll be face to face with my grandson Paulo.

Should be a very interesting night indeed.

fantasia on american idol

I hate American Idol.

But since Dave White reviews it, I sometimes will read his articles and watch just to know what he's talking about.

And he just posted this clip:




That is definitely the coolest thing I've ever seen on American Idol and might be the coolest thing I've seen on YouTube in a long time.

If you go to that particular youtube site, you can get the lyrics, which I will copy here.

Have a nice evening! More to come in the morning!

Fantasia Barrino makes an appearance on AMerican Idol Season 7 (results night) to sing her song "Bore Me (yawn)" from her latest CD.
14 May 2008.

Lyrics:

[Verse 1]

You Gon Trippin in 6 in the Morning
Like ain't nobody s'pose to know.
Say You Been Workin but Get in Bed
Smelling just like fresh bar of soap. (soap)

Ask You About it, you just turn ya back
And get mad and just fall asleep, (sleep)
Got alot on ya mind and a arguement
Is the last Thing you need.

[Hook]

Baby you trippin'
It don't go that way
This ain't a movie
Or a tyler perry play
If you really wanted to mess around
That's all you had to say
But it ain't gonna be itty bitty silly me
So don't waste ya energy.

[Chorus]

Expect me to listen
When all I keep hearin'
Is You spittin nothing but game
Expect me to stay
When all u can say
Everything is gonna change
Don't wanna leave , wanna believe
Dat you won't do me wrong
But it's starting to
Bore Me , Bore Me, Bore Me (hmm. yawn)

[Verse 2]

I ain't yelling , I'm Telling
You nothing but how i heard you gettin down (down)
In the theatre with sister girl
Over on the other side of town. (hey.hey.hey.)
Ain't got no picture but ya'll might as well
Have been walking right into me.
Ain't no way in the hell immuh let it ride
But you do it to me....

[Hook]

Baby you trippin'
It don't go that way
This ain't a movie
Or a tyler perry play
If you really wanted to mess around
That's all you had to say
But it ain't gonna be itty bitty silly me
So don't waste ya energy.

[Chorus]

Expect me to listen
When all I keep hearin'
Is You spittin nothing but game
Expect me to stay
When all u can say
Everything is gonna change
Don't wanna leave , wanna believe
Dat you won't do me wrong
But it's starting to
Bore Me , Bore Me, Bore Me.....

[Bridge]

I'm tellin you
That i refuse to let it go
Down like this
Baby girl,
You must've bumped ya head
Everytime you go assumeing
You know you make a fool out of you
Got them other girls out of my world
And your the only one

I'm tryna make this clear
Hope you feel me my dear....(ooh)

Fantasia: How You Gonna expect me

[Chorus 2x]

Expect me to listen
When all I keep hearin' Fantasia:
Is You spittin nothing but game (you spittin nothing but game)
Expect me to stay Fantasia:
When all u can say (Why You Be In my Mind, Got Me Tellin lies)
Everything is gonna change
Don't wanna leave, wanna believe
Dat you won't do me wrong
But it's starting to Fantasia: (But You starting To Bore Me)
Bore Me, Bore Me, Bore Me (hmm. yawn

a husband about his wife

So years ago I worked with Natalie at Chop Point--she was one of the counselors. She has since gotten married to Joe and had two children. They are leaving for South Africa this summer...and plan on being there long term.

I subscribe to their blog and Joe wrote this in his most recent post:

-My wife is my backbone. The last two weeks before I’ve shared, Natalie is right next to me. We put together a video with some facts and figures about South Africa, and while that video played, I just felt peace as I rested my arm on her shoulder. Can’t stand without her.

and I want that. It's what I crave, what I was made to want and I don't feel badly for it and I won't compromise.

Epicness of Epic Proportions

Take a deep breath, here we go!

First off: I worked with Paulo Saturday morning. It was nice. Lovely even. Scrumtrulescent actually.

Our captain Elizabeth was unloading some flowers (all of our deliveries come either at 6:30 am or somewhere around 4 pm...except for the flowers. They come at like 11 am which is right when we're getting busy...) and I remarked on a specific bunch of 14 long-stem roses and how pretty they were. They are the prettiest flowers we sell, in my humble opinion, and Paulo chimed in that he wished we'd sell only 12 instead of 14 and then drop the price from what they are now, $10.99 to below $10. Then he dropped this adorable bomb: "As a recently single guy, I know how to buy enough for like 68 roses and only spend like 50 bucks. And it's like an armload," he then illustrated what an armload looked like--like he was hugging a 50-gallon barrel. The captain and I looked at each other in pretty much disbelief and she said, "I've gotten flowers before--but never so many." My response: "I've been looking for the wrong boys apparently."

Ok, so, we know he likes to give flowers (Check Plus Plus Plus Plus--especially since I've never received flowers in a romantic sense--I mean, I got carnations at Chop Point--but those were generally because the boys felt I was like a mother to them and boys should give their mothers flowers, and I got a corsage before prom, but sorry Andy, that just doesn't count. Especially since you're currently living with your girlfriend in Tacoma, Washington.). I had heard earlier in the day that he was possibly recently divorced...but that claim has yet to be confirmed. And in case you don't know, the man I loved, an unrequited love, for six years was recently divorced when I met him. That doesn't automatically mean Paulo's out, it just means there's a caution flag. Divorces are never pretty, emotional scars develop, and there has to be a REASON people get divorced. Either it's his fault, or he'll never trust another woman again on whatever front that it was her fault.

But I have to tell you, I'm a sucker for the hurt ones. The ones that I feel like I can remedy. The ones that just need a hug and lots of positive, loving language. Now, I don't think I can fix anyone. Not at all. We all know that doesn't work and only through Christ true healing can come. But I want to be someone's last grasp on humanity...the reason he fights on, you know? I'm such a sap. An unrealistic, head-in-the-clouds sap. And I love most every minute of it!

So, the day went on without a whole lot of excitement--I was super tired (leaving the store at 1 am just to be back at 7 am does not leave a fresh, rejuvenated Anna--not even the thought of being with Paulo knocked me out of exhaustion) and we had a lot of work to do. But it's nice when I can tell he feels like I'm an anchor on our crew and can count on me for anything. He asks my opinion. He speaks to me with respect. And he laughs at my jokes. Did I mention that?

So I clocked out and the next five minutes were magical: he was writing the milk order and I went over just to say goodbye to him (obviously) and since I needed to get a few things for my mom, I had taken off my TJ's shirt and was wearing my oftentimes undershirt--" 'Tis My Duty To Cruise Dat Hoopty." And it's an old "hoopty" on the front. It's from Jason (Harwell)'s collection of funny songs he calls Flavors. Anyway, that gained a chuckle from Paulo as he stated that if there were ever a shirt he didn't expect me to own, anything referencing a hoopty is it. Then he asked if I had to work tomorrow (Sunday) and I told him no, that I take Sundays off. He then asked, "Oh, are you religious?" I stated that indeed I was. That wasn't the reason I take Sundays off, but I do go to church on Sunday nights. So, he lost a few points with that question. Yes, he seemed cool with it, but yet it didn't seem to be a part of his life. Which is cool (this in part leads to what happened around midnight that night...but I'm getting ahead of myself), but it doesn't make my heart sing, you know? I then described how I needed a day off between my jobs. And then discussed if I could make enough at TJ's I could quit my day job, blah blah blah, I love TJ's, wouldn't mind it as a career (not that I'm for one second forsaking Rebuilt...but TJ's is something I enjoy while I'm trying to figure out how Rebuilt's gonna work). He then did my favorite thing he does when we speak: compliment me (hey, I'm not shallow, but compliments from men I find attractive makes the day go by just a little bit easier, ok?). He stated that clearly, I'm his favorite crew member and that when the full-timers got together, I'm at the top of the list of part-timers in training for full-time--which is nice. Very nice, actually. And last week when I ran the front office, all on my own, without much assistance was apparently the latest topic of conversation. He said everyone was really impressed--and now that he knows I'm serious about going full time, he's going to be my champion, my cheerleader for getting me promoted! Hooray! I have a champion. A sexy, chiseled champion!

Oh yeah, and earlier in the day he had left for his lunch break and came back in the store--I was in the office probably goofing off (I got tired of actually working) and he had a drink carrier that had a Gatorade for the guy that was closing books that night and a diet coke. For me. He brought me a diet coke from the gas station across the street. He was finishing off a slushie, which made me smile. I deconstructed the drink carrier and was about to put it in the trash when he said in a voice I've heard from frustrated little boys, "It took me five tries before I figured out how to assemble that thing. I had to throw them away each time in front of the clerk like an idiot." I apologized for destroying his masterpiece and asked if he wanted it put back together--but he stuck out his bottom lip and just shook his head.

Boys need to be careful when they act like adorable little boys and stick out their lips--I can't be held responsible for what happens to those lips. I just can't, ok?

Fast forward to right around midnight. I was sitting in bed (the exhaustion from earlier in the day had been abated by a two-hour nap) and had a moment of epiphany--I need to encourage this man. I need to be like his unrelenting Hosea (without the fact that his name isn't Gomer or that he's a prostitute or that I've been told to marry him). Just someone to bring a little hope and Jesus to him from a place without ulterior motives. And yes, my feelings for Paulo have changed since midnight Saturday night...I see him as someone who needs my love--but not necessarily eros (romantic) love, more of a philos (brotherly) love that leads to some agape (God) love.

I need to be this guy's unshakable grandmother.

And I decided I needed to write him a letter. I went into it with a little trepidation. See, I wrote a letter once. A letter that was so well written that I couldn't believe I had written it. A letter that declared my six-year-long love and a letter that kind of demanded a response from its recipient. And he didn't confess his love when he got it. Actually, he got defensive and said maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore. But somehow things have righted themselves and we're still friends (with my heart finally disentangled from any romantic lingerings having to do with him, thanks be to Jesus!). So, with that letter being so eloquently written, yet not received in the way that I had hoped, I wasn't SO fond of writing to Paulo. But I did. And I think it turned out well. I took camera-phone pictures of each page so I could transcribe each of them for you here. So here's the letter I wrote to Paulo:

Saturday May 17 2008
11:12 pm
Paulo--

First things first: no matter how much I scrub, I still have corn gunk underneath my nails and I just wanted to thank you for that (I shucked quite a few cases of corn before we opened Saturday...and put them on a display that he called "the most artistic corn display he'd ever encountered").

My cat Ginger is here, she says hi--well, by "hi" I mean she head butts my arm, attacks the end of the pen and is kneading my quilt in attempts to gain attention, but that's neither here nor there.

I've had a bit of an epiphanal (I have no idea if that's a word and if I truly truly cared I'd go to the other side of the room to get a dictionary--but I enjoy it even if it's a non-word, so I"m keeping it regardless.) day. So I told you earlier that I go to church--and it's true. But it's more than that, my relationship with Christ means more to me than anything, even Coke Zero--and that's a lot.

But I'm not here to preach or make you uncomfortable. I'm here to tell you that God often nudges me to new horizons, often awkward ones, to make me grow as a person.

And I feel like I'm at one such precipice now (I would have written precipices but again, I don't know if that's a word and I actually care about this one---so instead of looking like an idiot, I switched the sentence around to make it work for the word I DO know--score one for my liberal arts B.A.!).

I don't write this to make you feel awkward, but I just feel prompted that there are some things you need to hear, so might as well hear them from me.

I feel like we've built a nice rapport over the past several weeks. I think you're hilarious and I'm flattered that you laugh at my inane and often nonsensical jokes. It makes more that much more enjoyable when I know there are people there that I appreciate and who appreciate me.

Elizabeth and I spoke later about our (well, your) discussion/passion over the roses and we mused that it's sad that you revealed you're recently single.

I don't know your life, nor should I, and I certainly am not trying to get into your business--so I'll just invite you to see me as a lot of my friends do--as their grandmother. I'm an 87-year-old woman with 32 grandchildren stuck in a 26-year-old single woman's body. I just have this passion inside of me to nurture and take care of people--to encourage and to know that people are happy. Here lies my point--I have a Grandmother message for you, Mr. (insert correctly spelled last name here) (see? I spelled it right!) <--yes, that last parenthetical statement was included in the letter. I write non of this for any ulterior motive except for one: to make you smile: You, sir, are fantastic. Your "chiseled" grin is infectious. You, too, have a gift of encouragement and it is certainly a lifting of the morale for our entire crew. I have heard nothing but positive things about you since you came to our store. You are valued. Not just for being good at your job, but for being a swell guy. I can tell you are a sensitive (in the most manly way possible, of course) man and it's heartwarming. You speak of your car in loving terms and you were worried to tell your bear story for fear that people wouldn't believe you and that's just straight, unadulterated adoreableness (too bad there's no speel check in handwritten letters, eh?) I'm sorry to hear that you're recently single. No matter the circumstances, it's got to suck. Since I don't know the other side/person to your relationship, I will wholeheartedly take your side. Unless of course you killed her and wear her skin around your house. Then that'd just be weird. I mean, I'll still be your friend, but only in crowded and well-lit public places. But I digress, my point this evening is to bring you cheer: I find you amusing (in the laugh with you, not at you sense), I like the way you do business, I think your sense of integrity is inspiring, I like to listen to what you have to say, I like working alongside of you and find you utterly respectable and an all-around stand up chap.

Being away from your family and working the crazy amount of hours that you do, I don't know if you get to hear these things often or at all--so today was the day.

Today is the day for you to hear that you're worthy, you matter and that people think you're terrific--even if you wear some dead girl's skin around the house and shopping on the weekends.

I was telling a friend earlier this evening of my intention to write this and a caution flag was thrown--too often my urge to encourage and nurture gets crossed over into the romantic realm and I appreciate her caution for I often jump without thinking and end up somewhere I never intended on being. But this letter is written with one intent and it's for the betterment of your being. So there. Hope your well being has been bettermented! (ha!)

And I realize that grandmas are supposed to bake cookies and all that--but it's after midnight now and I'm not sure I've ever made cookies from scratch before (hey! my mom was/is a good cook/baker and I never needed to bake my own when I could just ask her. I'm a spoiled mama's girl. I get it. You can stop judging me now.) and I have no idea if I even have all I would need here. And, as I've mentioned, it's ater 12 am and nothing good is coming from these worn out and tired motor skills. So, I will abstain from getting out the mixer and turning on the oven. I'll think of something to accompany this letter, as you'll need some kind of sugary sustainence to to wade through my extreme verbiosity (there goes that need for a dictionary again).

Sometimes people just need to hear that they are whole, worthy, and loved.

So today is your day. Sorry you're having to work on your day off. I'll see you later this week I suppose. Hopefully you'll get to reschedule your rib eye boys night and we'll all get to go see some baseball.

Peace out, homeslice.
Anna

And I forgot to give him a sugary snack along with the letter. Oops. So that's where I currently stand with Paulo. I'll give you an update once there is one!

So I'll have to write more about the movie that I watched before I wrote the letter plus what happened at the Block Party at my church later--it's taken me entirely more than my lunch hour to just write thus far.

Enjoy!

My Top Ten Albums of 2007

So I just realized I didn't ever post this--it's a top ten list I wrote at the beginning of '08 as to the top ten albums, for me, in 2007. They are in alphabetical by album name, not ranked, order.

Armchair Apocrypha (Andrew Bird)
Because of the Times (Kings of Leon)
the.broken.headphones EP (Jason Harwell)
The Ghost of Fashion (Clem Snide)
I'm Like a Virgin Losing a Child (Manchester Orchestra)
In Our Nature (Jose Gonzalez)
Nothing Is Okay (the everybodyfields)
Sandwiches & Cats (Michael Showalter--comedy)
The Shepherd's Dog (Iron and Wine)
The Stage Names (Okkervil River)


I've included the links (mostly Amazon) so you'll give some of it a listen...if you'd like to go to their websites, well, just google their name and voila! there they are.

I love them all for different reasons--and they are all solid songs lyrically (except for Kings of Leon...but they rock so hard it doesn't matter) and that's what I fall for every time.

I write this hoping it will tide you over until I can get a chance to write, epically of course, about my EPIC weekend including: a letter to Paulo, a block party in downtown ATL at my church, watching the movie P.S. I Love You, and, of course, me getting the number of two different (and cute!) single, eligible men--one being a cop! Ah ha!

An Open Letter To The Girl That Sits Three Cubes Away From Me

To the girl that sits three cubes away from me:

This is a work place. NOT a sorority. Please stop giggling, cackling, laughing and whispering with Girl Who Sits Two Cubes Away From Me like you're back in high school.

You are not cute when you talk like a baby. You are not funny. You are not spreading joy to the world with your laugh. You're spreading venom and hatred and I wouldn't mind if you got a bacterial infection in your throat and therefore could only use sign language for the rest of your miserable perpetually irresponsible stuck in college days.

Thanks for your time. I need to get back to work.

Anna

viral videos are fun...

this one's long...but utterly fascinating:



MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

captivating

so my dear friend Jen recommended this book to me a while ago (it's like the woman's version of Wild At Heart).

I used to be OBSESSED with this particular genre of Christian literature. I had them all. ALL. And then one day I stopped. I stopped believing what they were peddling. I stopped believing that they were even based in the faith that I believe so much in. I gave all my Christian relationship books away and haven't regretted it since. I just felt like they were putting false ideals in my head. They all had this mentality that I wasn't good enough now. I needed to get X, Y, and Z in order before 1, 2, and 3 could happen. But I wanted to believe that if I followed the formula perfectly, I would then be worthy of finding my Knight in Shining Armor. Then I heard this 4-part sermon series by Voddie Baucham and my life has been changed in a real and tangible way. If you're reading this and I haven't sent you his sermon Love and Marriage, I will gladly do so.

Well, I gave Captivating a chance. I really enjoyed and was inspired by what I read. I, however, didn't read all of it because I haven't read all of anything in a very, very long time. I think working 80+ hours a week makes me crave mindless activity. I get home from work and watch The Daily Show. I have a night off from work and I watch anything on Bravo, or the creepy WE series High School Confidential. I crave time where my brain can just be quiet. I don't read novels anymore. I don't read for fun anymore. I don't read for spiritual enlightenment or challenge anymore. This all makes me sad. I generally leave my glasses at work.

But I do read blogs. A lot of them. I guess that's because it's easy to do while I'm at work. Oh, and I'm nosy. I like to read into the lives of other people. So, I went to the 268 Blog today (268 Generation: Passion movement: Louie Giglio: I used to go to his singles Bible study, 722, every Tuesday night---it's an amazing movement, read up on it at 268generation.com) and Louie, Chris Tomlin, David Crowder, and Charlie Hall (all on the record label Louie started: six step records) along with a whole slue of people that are amazing headed to Kyiv to start a world tour. I subscribe to Louie's blog. And I saw a comment on there from a girl. I clicked on her link because I'm nosy. I read one of her latest posts and it spoke to me powerfully.

Our God is a mighty God. He hears our groans when we do not know what to pray. I've prayed for all of you by name today. Thanks for being with me! He knows that sometimes we'll only hear Him through some random girls' blogs and he obliges.

Here's the girl's blog, Greener Grass and her entry entitled Captivating:

Sunday, April 20, 2008

captivating.

so yesterday i was going through my books seeing what i could get rid of - surely there was something. i came across a book i read a few years back and, remembering that it didnt blow me away the first time i read it, figured it was a good one to get rid of. i had made some notes while reading it before, so grabbed my eraser to clean it up. i'm quite a believer that books can mean something completely different to you if you read them at different points in your life. not surprisingly, then, as i was going back through this book, it seemed like something i should be reading now and so last night and this morning i've spent some time out on my patio in this great weather reading. and so, in typical fashion, a few passages or quotes that have stood out to me so far.

"A woman's struggle with her sense of self worth points to something glorious she was designed to be."

"In the depths of my soul, I longed to be part of something large and good; something that required all of me; something dangerous and worth dying for."

"We do not want to the adventure merely for adventure's sake but for what it requires of us for others. We don't want to be alone in it; we want to be in it with others."

"I know I am not alone in this nagging sense of failing to measure up, a feeling of not being good enough as a woman. Every woman I've ever met feels it - something deeper than just the sense of failing at what she does. An underlying, gut feeling of failing at who she is. I am not enough, and, I am too much at the same time. Not pretty ehough, not thin enough, not kind enough, not gracious enough, not disciplined enough. But too emotional, too needy, too sensitive, too strong, too opinionated, too messy. The result is Shame, the universal companion of women. It haunts us, nipping at our heels, feeding on our deepest fear that we will end up abandoned and alone.

After all, if we were better women - whatever that means - life wouldn't be so hard. Right? We wouldn't have so many struggles; there would be less sorrow in our hearts. Why is it so hard to create meaningful friendships and sustain them? Why do our days seem so unimportant, filled not with romance and adventure but with duties and demands? We feel unseen, even by those who are closest to us. We fell unsought - that no one has the passion or the courage to pursue us, to get past our messiness to find the woman deep inside. And we feel uncertain - uncertain what it even means to be a woman; uncertain what it truly means to be feminine; uncertain if we are or ever will be.

Aware of our deep failings, we pour contempt on our own hearts for wanting more. Oh, we long for intimacy and for adventure; we long to be the Beauty of some great story. But the desires set deep in our hearts seem like a luxury, granted only to those women who get their acts together. The message to the rest of us - whether from a driven culture or a driven church - is try harder."


For so long I believed I had to "get my act together" before I could be in a meaningful relationship. That I always had something in the way of my Grand Perfection. But I'm a sinner and imperfect and I will ALWAYS have something falling together regarding to my act. And I'm ok with that. And I'm ok with waiting and praying and if I'm meant to be with someone, then it will be ordained by God. Because I am not willing to waste my life, my heart, my energy on a relationship that I choose just because I WANT it and then I'm stuck with the fall out of my way clashing with His way. It a'int worth it, friends.

Have a nice weekend. I'll see you guys Monday.

I have to work 8 hours with Paulo tomorrow. Hopefully they are wonderful hours. Even if he's not a love match, he's totally a long-term friend match.

And Jen has convinced me that you guys need a picture of Paulo...I have got the ball rolling and I'll report back once I get some results.

Deflated balloon

I called TJ's this morning to tell Paulo that our group was just down to he and I...I asked if he still wanted to go.





"Let's wait until we have more people."






My bottom lip is poking out right now. I am sad.



But I'll get over it. Why do I have to be so bad at reading boys' signals? I wish I had the cohones to just say something. But I don't. So, there.

update

Peter just called and left a message: something's come up and he and Michelle can't make it to the game.


Uhhh, so, do I go ahead and buy tickets for two? Do I just let Paulo decide if he still wants to go?


Let me think about this a little bit. No matter how giddy I am, I don't want to ruin a good working relationship.

I'll keep you posted.

Watch out what you ask for...

Ok, so I have an amazing amount of work to complete by 5 pm EST and it's now 2:05 pm.

But, this couldn't be ignored, so I'll give it to you, my Royal Readers (bep!) in bullet form:

• My thirty minutes with Paulo last night was wonderful. Lots of jokes. He also had ALL of the front-end prep work done for me already. Like, all of it. I was really blown over by this because that was a lot of extra work on his part. His response to my gratitude, "I just wanted to make sure you had a good night." TOO CUTE!
• I went in to TJ's today to write my order because I don't work tonight. Thought I would go in during my lunch break (because 1. I want to be able to go straight home at 5 pm to be like a normal person, and the REAL reason 2. Paulo works until 2 pm b/c he had to come in at 5 am.)
• I look hot today. A nice black jersey dress, some summer sandals with a little heel, and my grandmother's super great gold rope necklace that I've worn now twice in my life. Hair: good. It was raining when I went in, but still, the curl was good. Hitting on all cylinders.
  
• I get compliments from all of my coworkers. Paulo was absent for the first wave of compliments, but I was up front in the office when he did walk in. He looked me up from head to toe (I know, as a woman, I should be offended by being objectified like that. But I'm not. At all. I liked it. A lot.) and told me I looked very nice today. Check plus.
• He had a note from our boss that a crew member wanted to be trained back in demo (sample lady)--well, since that's what I did the first six months I worked for TJ's, I volunteered to him today with our boss present. He smiled and said he was going to ask me to do it anyway. We had a moment.
• I asked the male of the couple that we're going to the Braves game with about if he wanted me to go ahead and buy tickets today. He looked confused and said, "I've already got tickets." I'm tired of referencing him like that, so let's call him Peter. So I cocked my head to the side, confused, "You got tickets for all of us?" His response (I love it!), "No, just for me and Michelle (his girlfriend, not her real name)." I laughed. "Umm, didn't we all want to sit together?" "Oh. Yeah. Ooops." Me: "Where are your seats then? I'll try to get Paulo and I's close to there then." "Oh. Somewhere in left field. Wait, maybe it's right field. Somewhere under the pavilion." The pavilion, is located on both sides. Awesome. Looks like it's just going to be me and Paulo. Together. Alone. Awkward.
• Awkward, you may ask. Yes, awkward. Awkward because I have these crushes and I'm used to them being secret and never actually ACTING on them. Awkward.

Ok, so, well, let's pray about that. Jen. the girls did VERY well today. Their performance should be applauded. You've been right all along. I'm sending you a picture right now...I will email anyone who so desires said picture...but I'm a lady, I wouldn't want to post it on this here internets where anyone can see!

Also, on a serious note: I totally lost my cool at work this morning--I was getting blamed for something that I had very little to do with. I, however, am the lowest man on the totem pole and we all know what flows downhill. I apologized to the people I needed to apologize to...but I just can't think it's a good thing to be in the one place in my life that makes me act like this.

Have a great Thursday!

PS: I was asked to post a photo of my necklace. Here it is.

my friends: Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin

So, my friends in the band Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin are on the Carson Daly show tonight...

Here's their music video for the song that made me fall in love with them, pangea:


I probably won't be up that late seeing that as I don't have to work tonight...but I will definitely DVR it.


I'm so very happy for them! if you're so inclined, watch them on TV.

If not, I guess that's cool too.


SUPPORT LOCAL AND INDIE MUSIC!

And hopefully this will make you smile as much as it did me:

Jason's journey to Australia

here's the blog he posted last night (well, it was last night EST...I have no idea what time it was in Auckland, New Zealand):

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Down Under, Part One I'll be in Australia for a couple of weeks, hanging out with my friends from Small House Records. I'll also be doing my best to post a few blogs about the experience in the hopes you that, valued reader, will find these adventures interesting. I flew from Atlanta to LAX to Auckland, New Zealand, to Melbourne, Australia. Here Are A Few Thoughts About My First Trans-Pacific Flight: 1. It's never a good sign when the captain comes on over the public address while you're still boarding and says incredulously, "Folks, we're expecting moderate turbulence for the first four hours of the flight." My heart sinks deeper at that point when realizing that period of time is only a third of my total flying time. 2. Sleeping is a luxury. I have come prepared for this one, with an inflatable neck pillow, eye mask, ear phones, ear plugs, a blanket, comfy shoes, and some over the counter meds that should put me to sleep. I have also downed a glass of the worst wine I've ever put in my mouth, at which point I remembered the wine was free and it all makes sense. But despite these efforts, it's really hard to sleep in an airplane chair; comfort really isn't the design aesthetic here; we're talking function, baby. But seriously, could we not get the folks from Herman Miller to design an airline chair that doesn't cause blood clots in your legs? I did manage to snooze a bit here and there, but mostly I watched movies on my little television. The selection was pretty amazing, actually, and after scrolling through my options, I nearly screamed with glee as I noticed "Beverly Hills Cop" on there. And "Rattle & Hum." And since I was flying Air New Zealand, all three Lord of the Rings movies were available, which I seriously considered, but that was a kind of investment I was not prepared for. It would have covered most of my flight, though. But I did watch a few episodes of Flight of the Concords, you know, in honor of New Zealand. I also watched "Dan In Real Life" with Steve Carrell (good) and "Bee Movie" with Jerry Seinfeld (absolutely horrible). 3. Speaking of NZ, the airport looks a lot like ours accept it's cleaner and the people talk with cool accents. But rest assured Americans; I'm currently typing this at a table between a coffee shop and a Burger King, and NASCAR is playing on the television behind me. This is a picture of me having a mochaccino in the Auckland airport after my flight. Notice the slightly bewildered look in my eyes... 4. I'm kind of having a hard time typing this. I'm catching my final flight to Melbourne here in a few minutes, and while my mind is running at probably 85%, my motor skills are sucking pretty badly right now. I attribute this to the small amount of sleep I got on that last flight. It may also have something to do with the fact that I also played a ton of Tetris, which was also available to play on my little in-flight monitor. Dang, it took me a long time to type "in-flight monitor." Both times. 5. Finally, I can safely say now that time has stopped. I have no idea what time it is, what time it feels like, or what meal I should be looking forward to. I felt somewhere during the eleventh hour of the flight this Zen-like freedom from the bondage of times, dates, and calendars. I felt like I might fly forever. At some point, the boredom, crampiness, and endless selections of in-flight (dang!) entertainment safely removes all of your sensory perception, like that psychological experiment in which the subject puts half of a golf ball over each eye, forming little white domes to look into, robbing the subject of their visual perception. What happens then, you ask? You get some Burger King in Auckland, NZ for breakfast while screaming at others to please observe a moment of silence "For Dale" with your three fingers hoisted high. And then you get back on the plane. 6:14 PM

an anthropological study...

Last night, my second mother at TJ's, Maggie (whom I love dearly!) commented how I look happy and at peace whenever I'm working/around Paulo.

The guy who corrected Paulo about my name asked why I was in such a good mood.

I was writing the previous blog this morning and my coworker Mike walked by and asked why I had such a big goofy grin on my face.



Maybe I need to be nice all the time, regardless of this man or that and stop being a crab!

It's definitely something to ponder upon.

Taunting a bear

Last night's blow-by-blow:

So, Paulo's in charge of unloading the truck (we get two trucks a day, one in the morning with perishables and one in the afternoon of the dry stuff--shelf stable stuff and then also frozen). I was in charge of running the front end--the cash drawers, giving refunds, employee discounts, answering phones, inputting the orders into the computer, etc.

So I tried SO hard to have everything perfect so I would look good to him, look like I had my act together. But then the thought occured, perhaps I shouldn't have my act together and be the damsel in distress. Then I snapped back into reality! That's a game, girl, and homie don't play games. I am who I am and I'm not going to act otherwise. If I'm good at my job, then I won't act poorly--I'll just hope he likes self-sufficient girls instead of snivelers. There are plenty of things I need a knight-in-shining-armor for--I don't need to waste it on answering phones and counting cash.

I did this all very well until around 10 pm when I should have had everything done--I couldn't account for $214. That, my friends, is not good. The night before I could only not find $7.42 (that's pretty normal, generally the next day we bounce back). So, I had to swallow my disappointment and call him back up to the front...he whispered, "how much?" because that is the only reason he would get called back up front after having already doubled my count for the cash and check deposit (which I did perfectly! the paperwork, the counting of things in the safe, everything!). I told him the amount and he was totally unfazed. He sat down on the floor in front of the safe, legs crossed, ready to count every penny if needed, and started to take the bundles out that I had just made and gingerly counted and recounted until he found $185 that I had miscounted. That left us with a normal (anything right at $30 short is ok) and I apologized again (stupid! 20 $5s go in a bundle, not 25!) and just the way he handled it was perfect. He's so damn calm. And he was very complimentary of the work I completed correctly. And he said that I "rocked the house" (excellent turn of phrase) with everything else. That I'm still pretty new to the game and it all becomes second nature after a while. It made me feel nice. He even complimented me in front of the whole crew during our nightly huddle--the job I'm doing all week is a full-timers job and it's pretty stressful--trying to keep all the money straight while also trying to keep the front end, the "grand finale," for the customers running smoothly.

We keep many, many, many, many closed cases of wine at the front of our store. It's just our thing. He had brought a pallet of wine up to the front and was unloading it and was like, "Did I tell you I went camping this weekend?" No. He didn't tell me. But I just LOVE intimate personal details--because I'm a hopeless romantic dork that wants to know all about the crush o' the moment. He went camping in north Georgia (Atlanta, by the way, is pretty north in the state) at Amicalola Falls. It's ok if you can't pronounce it--I've lived here my whole entire life and I still have problems with it. The last time I went to Amicalola Falls was with Joe. And his parents. And his mom, at the time, had an obsession with Noxema face cream as a hand lotion (she has some mental difficulties). An outing with his parents? Yeah, no wonder I thought there was more going on there than there actually was. But hey, that's in the WAY past. He's getting married in June. And I couldn't be happier. Seriously. I'm glad to be out from under that six-year heart debacle. But that's neither here nor there.

Back to Paulo. So, I asked if he went alone (duh! always have to put the "is there a girlfriend?" feelers out there) and he said he was planning on it, but a friend that's leaving town ended up joining him. And then he described how amazing his toasted coconut marshmallow was. It was the most decadent, sensual description ever and for a moment I was envious of a marshmallow. Yes, a marshmallow. I should probably seek professional help. And we talked about the walk to the top of the falls (a couple thousand stairs) and he said, "Yeah, that was a bit excessive." That, my friends, is also another favorite phrase of mine. He's right at the top of my Lexicon Love game. And then, he tells a story that had tears in my eyes:

So, they toasted marshmallows ("probably the best thing I've ever eaten. They were kosher too! and big!") and apparently didn't fully put out their embers (naughty campers! I felt all my Chop Point training come bouncing back) and so at 3 am, Paulo was in his tent closest to the fire and his friend was a few feet away in his. Paulo is awakened by someone rooting around in the coals--he thought it was maybe a park ranger or something. So, being upset that he was awakened, he rather growled, commenting on the noise, "That's a bit excessive, isn't it?" (my favorite phrase again!). No response. He yells, "HEY!" No response. He unzips the cover to his mesh window just in time to see a huge claw pawing at him. Oh yes, my friends. A bear. A good ole Georgia brown bear. Apparently the bear was the size of a, "you know, the size of a bear." Awesome. Compare the thing you're trying to explain to someone to itself. Triple bonus score. So then Paulo did something that made me gasp and shake my head in disbelief--he got out of his tent. "I didn't want him to eat me in my tent." Oh, so making yourself even more accessible--when obviously he's hungry is a great idea. I, however, kept that piece of information to myself because I tend to be too sarcastic and attack men for the sake of a joke and then realize that I really cut too deep. Remember: women look at life through the lenses of love, men, respect. So maybe I don't always need to come off as knowing better and pointing out his flaws. I've kept this in action for about 3 years or so now and my relationships with all kinds of men have vastly improved. In turn, I get treated with more gentleness and consideration. So, I don't have to "be one of the boys" to be accepted. I can just be a girl hanging out with boys and it's ok.

He gets out of his tent and shoos (wow, I don't think I realized that was a real word) the bear away. The bear, thankfully, runs away--and Paulo's friend apparently exited his tent right as the bear was running away. He then said something that makes him endearing to me: "I'm glad he saw the bear or else I wouldn't tell the story because no one would believe me!" How cute. And vulnerable. I'm so damn sappy.

(And this sidenote has nothing to do with anything: Mike and I (my coworker) had to deal with a picky client on Monday regarding an ad that went to press yesterday, Tuesday. She told us that the olive (color) needed to be changed to blue. So, there was green on the ad, so we replaced it with blue. We sent the ad to press. We sent her a proof of it after it was sent to the press. Mike just got an irate phone call, "Why did you change the green?! I asked you to change the brown!" He responds, "No, you asked me to change the olive. So we did." "Olive, Mike, isn't GREEN, it's BROWN." I heard her say this. He had placed her on speaker phone. Brilliant. I had to muffle my laughter. He then said, in the nicest way possible because he's WAY nicer than me, "Oh, so sorry! Olive in our world means green." I love it. I love that he just said that.)

Back to Paulo. He then investigated their cooler. That they just left out willy nilly. At this point I just shook my head--because seriously, who goes camping and just leaves food out? Oh right, a chiseled man that drives a tiny sports car, that's who. He was all miffed, "I just bought that cooler Friday and now it has claw and bite marks in it!" I personally would be very proud of that cooler.

Cute point #157: during our nightly crew huddle he referenced me several times as Anne-uh. You know, the conventional pronunciation of the spelling of my name. I get it. I'm not offended (except for the part of me hoping that he thinks of me outside of work, but whatever). Now, for most of you reading this, yes, I expect you to say my name correctly. I have known most of you longer than a month (oh geez, it's only been a month. What a dope I am!) So, another crew member got offended, on my behalf (this phenomenon has been going on since school days--other kids getting mad because someone says my name wrong) and said "Do you want to yell at him or should I?" I, in my most polite, pleasant, demure, feminine way say, "Shh. It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it." This crew member decides to interrupt what Paulo is saying to correct him regardless of my direction. Paulo is obviously embarrassed. He apologizes like twelve times, then says "I owe you one." One what? I could get very interested in cashing that "one" in. So later he came over and gave me a side hug and sheepishly apologized again. He apparently had, a couple of weeks ago, gone around chanting how to say my name correctly so he wouldn't screw it up. How cute! I told him that if I saw my name repeatedly on a name tag, I would pronounce it incorrectly too. There's no reason for him to feel bad. But he did. And I'm ok with that.

Oh oh oh. I almost forgot. My coworker from my day job, Lauren, came by TJ's last night. She was going to come last week, but I told her if she wanted to see Paulo, he and I would be working together on Tuesday. She came under the guise that she needed to get some gnocchi and meatballs for dinner (she and her husband are hooked and I can't blame them...mmmmm!). So, she saw Paulo and told me she liked that recipe and I better tell her every single ingredient! Ha!

I won't work with him again (he leaves at 6 tonight and I get there at 530) for the rest of the week (he has the 5 am to 3 pm shifts--gross!) until Saturday, I work at 7 am. A whole day together. Glorious. I didn't mention baseball last night...I didn't want to be the eager beaver or anything. Maybe tonight. In passing.

Ok. Mike just made me mad. I gotta go. Happy Wednesday, friends!

moments with God

Written Monday, 5/12:
I've been prompted to write about some moments I've had with God lately.

I'll start with the most recent. I had a truly LOVELY conversation with my friend Jen last night and we were able to talk about Paulo, people moving to Maine, a little about her and her husband's impending trip across the US via bicycle as they raise money for the American Lung Association and various other things girls talk about on the phone.

And I was able to verbalize this with her: I hear God's voice, I'm getting the signals, I know that above all else I'm supposed to help people through music and to provide a face for Christian missions...but I don't know what to DO about all of this. Where do I go from here? Where do you go once you hear His voice and feel His guiding hand? Where am I going to live in September? And practically speaking, how are my bills going to get paid if I do indeed make this leap into the unknown? I KNOW that God is above all of this, I am fully aware. I, however, don't want to make the wrong decision. I want to be practical. You can't really give a face to Jesus if you don't have anywhere to live, your car gets repossessed, and your bills go unpaid. Well, I guess you can. But is that really what He wants from me? I am also sole "caretaker" (that's a horrible choice for she is 200% capable of her own care) for my mom. She's just had such a crappy life, and I'm the only person ever that hasn't let her down--so I'm committed to helping her into retirement with someone by her side. I'm her only friend and I can't abandon her like everyone else has. That certainly plays into my future--how do I make such a leap while still so implanted in the world? So, if you have any insights, please, by all means, share them, for I am in the dark as to what to do. I want to make a difference. I want to help Rebuilt be all that it can be. I want to stay with TJ's. I want to get married. I want to help distribute food to those that don't have any. But I don't know HOW.

God moment from last week's church service: I go to the contemporary worship service at a very stately and established church in downtown Atlanta. The pastor I had from the age of 13 until 23 or so is the senior pastor there now. The guy who leads worship, I went to high school with him. The guy who plays drums, we're friends from the aforementioned church and he and I are connected through the 3-day retreat (Chrysalis) that I'm leading for teenage girls in September (he's leading the one for the boys the weekend prior to mine). I almost feel at home there and for that I am very grateful. For over a year I didn't go to church anywhere because of conflicting work schedules. And even now, no matter how much at home I feel at this new church, I still feel like an outsider because I can only make it down on Sunday nights. I can't make it during the week when they are feeding the homeless and downtrodden. I can't make it when they are walking the streets spreading hope. And so I feel this disconnect that I don't know how to remedy. The remedy I suppose is that I figure out how God is leading me concerning my life and career and if I get that worked out, I hopefully won't be working as much and will have more time to actually DO something that means something. For I don't believe sitting in this cube, working on ads that sell apartments is actually glorifying the name of Jesus.

An aside about corporate work: I was talking yesterday morning at TJ's to the guy that comes by and picks up all the food we can no longer sell; his name is Mike. Mike and I have become buddies over the past year and a half since our store's been open and he's been picking up our "spoils." He takes our food, he takes the food from lots of other places and he distributes it to over 53 different charitable organizations across the state to feed those who are hungry. How amazing! I want to be involved...but right now: no time. He said something that really opened my eyes a little bit wider: he has a corporate IT job. He said he knows without a doubt that he's supposed to have that job because he's supposed to bring the Gospel of Jesus into work every day. He's supposed to change the lives of those around him through that job. I, however, don't feel like I've been much of a Jesus for those around me. I lose my cool, I talk about people behind their backs, I gripe, I complain, I mutter, I'm not efficient with my time (a la blogging right now when I could be working on something useful for work) and I just don't know what my purpose of being right here right now is.

Right, back to last week. So, my pastor for so many years doesn't preach on Sunday nights. There's this younger guy who is "hip and with it" I suppose. He preaches with one of those mics that is supposed to be "flesh" colored and it is supposed to just sit upon your cheek and not be noticeable. Now, when I went to 722 all during college Louie Giglio wore one of those. And it was fine because there were 3000 of us in attendance every Tuesday night and instead of watching him on stage, I was generally watching him on the jumbotron. But this new guy, David, is all but six feet away from me and the flesh-colored mic causes me to stare at his cheek sometimes more than hear that his mouth is saying. (and David, I know I'm sending this to you too...so don't feel hurt--it's just how I tick.)

Anyway, he's been preaching on Romans 8. You know, life in the Spirit. The "if God is for me, who can be against me?" piece of the Bible. v.30: "...those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified." Pretty powerful stuff. And as David said last night, Romans 8 pretty much sums up our lives as Christians. v. 32 "He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else?...who indeed intercedes for us." He intercedes on our behalf. That's powerful. Someone is stepping in on our behalves--our broken, sinful, selfish, dirty behalves just because he loves us. That'll preach.

Finished Tuesday, 5/13:

I went on my Chrysalis weekend in January 1997. Chrysalis is a three-day spiritual journey for teenagers--it's a 72-hour reflection on the soul. There are talks given by clergy, youth and just regular lay people (adults). My Chrysalis weekend is the single turning point in my faith. I was 15 and I already had some serious burdens. A couple of years previous (yes, at the age of 12 and 13) I had entered into a sexual relationship with a guy that was 23. I think about it now and my heart breaks for that little girl I was and would never be again. He told me I was pretty, that I was desirable and I had never heard that from anyone outside of my family (or so I believed. I'm sure I had, but it just means more to get male validation at that point in life. Maybe sometimes even now.) So for about a year he and I were "dating" (and yes, I laugh about this now...how naive!)--but the point of my entire story: my dad knew about it. He was letting this guy live in his attic for a while (there were crazy amounts of drugs involved, it's a long story--thankfully I always said "no") and he was the kind of dad that is a hippie at heart: as long as you're doing it under my roof, under my supervision, it's ok--at least you're not out on the streets! I thought he was the coolest dad ever. He was letting me follow my heart. I LOVED this guy! Anyway, a year passes. I am no longer involved in any of this stuff. I was 13, I had faced a pregnancy scare, I had seen more about the drug culture than most adults can say now, and I knew there was no going back to being a little girl. I was so ANGRY at God. I was angry that my dad had led me into all of this mess. I was angry that they guy really didn't think I was delightful--he had gone back to his ex (thankfully an actual adult). My Chrysalis weekend opened up my heart: my life is more than botched attempts to find love (from my dad, from this guy). My life has meaning and I can find redemption. So I first heard the message of Let Go and Let God in January of 1997. I love the idea of Let Go and Let God. It just sounds so EASY. Let it all go and things will work out.

I've always had an issue with it though. It just doesn't feel practical. I've learned the hard way: you've got to learn things the hard way. You can't just lay things down and not wrestle with them and expect to come out of the experience victoriously.

Fast forward to 5.04.08. David speaks on Let Go and Let God being bad theology. If I were a little less shy about speaking up in church during quiet moments, I would have yelled AMEN.

Romans 8.26: Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.

The Spirit HELPS us in our weakness. We're to carry on and the Spirit shall come alongside of us and share the load. Probably even take most if not all of the load. But we're still expected to walk. To tread along. To be side-by-side with our God and realize that on our journey we aren't alone. Our load isn't all on us. We still have to journey, and we still have things to carry with us--but they aren't to be burdens, they are to be loads we carry with joy--for I gladly carry my baggage (for lack of a better term) because I wouldn't have such a rich relationship with God without it. If I hadn't hit rock bottom at age 13, I wouldn't have cried out to God for help. I would have continued to live my charmed lifestyle in a ritzy suburb of Atlanta without a qualm. But I found a church, I found a movement, and it is with both of these institutions I found a Family. There are people I have known since then that I know, without one doubt, I could call right this moment saying I need help and they would act. The senior pastor at this church in Atlanta is one of those people.

But I digress: Let Go and Let God. I left for Ireland in the fall of 2002. I saw my dad once before I left. We had a spotty relationship throughout high school and college. I no longer thought he was cool. I thought he was a horrible person and I couldn't forgive him for standing idly by while my childhood went down the drain. I was still very angry at him. While I was in Ireland my one and only grandmother passed away. She was my dad's mom. I couldn't come home for the funeral and I came home at Christmas instead. I found out from my
aunt, my dad's sister, that my dad was missing. She never liked him much (oh, did I mention my dad's gay? No? Well, he is. My parents got married for whatever reason they each had and made it work for 13 years. I'm, obviously, very thankful for that.) My aunt has always hated him for that. She sat me down with my grandmother's inheritance check and handed over my dad's will saying that he was probably dead or in jail (because of the drugs). And she didn't seem to care. So from that winter day in 2002 until June 2006 I thought my dad was dead. I searched the jails and nothing. I searched phone books and nothing. And then I got a call in late June of 2006. From my dad. And he just wanted to chat like nothing had happened. For four years. He had disappeared and he now just wanted to chit chat. I was a basket case--my dad had come back from the dead and all the feelings that I had let die with him were now alive and well, and I was also starting to deal with the disintegration of the closest friendship I had ever known (unrelated to my dad's reappearance).

And I decided the week after I met up with him for the first time since I left for Ireland that I didn't want to be angry anymore. I had finally come to terms that I didn't actually initiate a sexual relationship when I was 13--I was taken advantage of, I was a victim of sexual abuse and I could be a whole person in spite of it. I didn't want to hate my own father anymore. He was just doing what he thought was the best for me and I was 24, I had a job, an apartment, a car and a life of my own. It was time to find some healing. So I truly Let Go of that anger and I Let God. And it worked. I had been tightly holding onto this anger and hurt and cloak of victimization because it was what I had grown so used to, so comfortable with.

So, I still believe that we are charged with carrying on, with not just giving up, but trudging on, through the muck and the rain because there are better days ahead. We are to carry our burdens for God knows that's how we'll grown. But sometimes He can just take those burdens completely away. And that's what happened to me that day. My anger was gone. In its place was sympathy, empathy, and just a twinge of sadness for all those years I wasted.

And I just realized something. I like to write in my Bible. I generally date my notes and the sermon title because I like seeing them later on. And I had heard a sermon on Romans 8 on March 26, 2006 entitled "Retro." By my friend Louie Giglio at 722. And he said something that I wrote in the margin in reference to verse 30: "He'll weave the ugly past to glorify Himself for better days." If only I could have seen how true that was going to be for me. Three months after I heard that message, I was faced with my ugly past. And He showed me how he could weave it to glorify Himself for better days. For I am now a living testament of those better days. I can now tell others what God has done in my life. I can see His hand molding His glory out of my abuse, my self-hatred, my anger, my best friendship that is now no longer.

I now talk to my dad once a week and try to see him every Sunday before church. He goes with me sometimes, but he's a pretty busy retiree. He doesn't do drugs anymore. He has a roof over his head and food in his stomach--and just a few short months ago he had neither. And through it all, if he can glorify God with tears in his eyes, then I surely can.

So, maybe Let Go and Let God needs a little tweaking. Yes, we are to carry on. We are to walk alongside and not give up. But maybe sometimes on our walk, the bag gets lighter and eventually evaporates. Not by our own doing, but because God blesses us and deems it so.

There are better days, friends. I sit here saying that with conviction. I have no idea what tomorrow brings. I don't even know what the rest of today brings (well, except for work. With Paulo ;). I have no idea where I'm going to live when my lease is up, I have no idea if I can even qualify for a loan to buy a house, I don't know how my bills are going to get paid if indeed I'm supposed to make Rebuilt my job. I don't know.

But I do know that my God has brought me this far and He won't drop me now.



in my prayers today:

my boss here at work had to leave early because her mother-in-law was rushed to the hospital this afternoon

Jen, Jonathan, Carrie and Autumn as they are a couple of weeks away from driving to Oregon from Boston just to ride their bikes all the way back to raise money for the American Lung Association in honor and memory of Jonathan's dad who died of emphysema

the Chrysalis weekend that I'm leading in the fall, yet have yet to hear back from anyone about it--so no plans have been made

and my dear friend Jason as he's headed to Australia--he's probably in the air right now. He flew out of Atlanta yesterday morning, flew to LA, had an eight-hour lay over and then was flying from there to Auckland, NZ and then heading to Melbourne. A 36-hour trip. Essentially he won't know today existed. And he's terrified to fly--so my prayers are certainly his!

and in fun news: I'm running the front office of TJ's all this week (we had a full-timer get transfered to another store and the guy that's coming in his place is on vacation this week so I have to fill in. hooray!) and so it's just me and Paulo running the ship tonight. I made sure to ask all of the questions I had last night to another full timer so I could appear to be perfect tonight when Paulo has to double-check my counting and work and whatnot. Hey, I want to look the best I can (not just physically--you know, like I want to impress him with being good at my job). And as LR pointed out this morning, I have yet to figure out if Paulo loves Jesus. I realized I'm putting a lot of my eggs in one basket. But that's how I roll. I'm passionate. I'm impulsive. And I have undying optimism and that's something I love about myself.


(ps: my mom doesn't know about the sex/drugs/rock and roll/baby making incidences. and it's been 13, almost 14, years now. no need to bring it up, k thnx!)