Seven days, and counting

If you haven't seen the previews for Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, then you must be living under a rock. I don't remember the last time I was this excited about a movie, and I have no idea why this one appeals to me so much. What I do know is that next Friday, October 3, I will be at the local theater, ticket in hand. I'm probably going to be there stag because I have yet to find anyone who shares my enthusiasm, but that's ok. All you haters are going to be sorry that you missed it.

The one I've been avoiding

In the fall of 1992 something happened that forever changed my view of politics and political conversation. In case you don't remember, 1992 was the year Bill Clinton was elected to his first Presidential term. It was also the year that my parents (my mom and step dad) got married. And it was in that same year that they nearly divorced. Over the election.

They married in March of that year. Just in time for the election season to get into gear. Since I couldn't vote for another eight years I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to the political madness. We talked about it in school and on election night I had to color in a map of the US according to which candidate won which state. But other than that the most I remember about the political front was how my parents disagreed on which candidate to vote for. I don't remember the conversation getting heated-that is until election day rolled around.

We were all home for the night and my parents started talking about their poll experience that day, skirting the issue that eventually sparked their conflict. My step dad finally asked my mom who she voted for. She didn't want to say, so she just looked at him. That look told him everything he needed to know. She had not, in fact, voted how he would have liked. That is to say, she didn't vote the same way he had. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure that she voted for a single thing the same way he had on that particular ticket.

And then came the rage, from both of them. I'm not sure exactly why my step dad was upset. There are two possible reasons. 1) He thought that she should vote like he told her because he was her husband and she should be subservient, or 2) His political convictions were so strong that he could not stand the idea of the other candidate winning and knowing that, if that happened, his wife would have assisted that in happening. I'm betting on number 2. My mom was just pissed off that he seemed to think her incapable of making up her own mind. She had, after all, been voting and taking care of herself long before he came along. She was an intelligent, independent woman and she could and did vote for the candidate that she thought best. Not based on his opinions or anyone else's. Her political beliefs were entirely her own, and still are.

Now don't get me wrong here. I'm not saying that one is at fault more than the other or that either should have bowed to the other's political wishes. They were both entitled to their own opinions. They, unfortunately, didn't see it that way.

I don't remember everything that was said that night. I do remember that we (my mom, my brother and I) packed a suitcase and went to stay with my grandparents that night. And the night after that I believe. Then two dozen red roses arrived with an apology and we went back home. You should know that my step dad isn't really one for romance and I can't remember a time before or after that he sent my mom flowers, and especially not two dozen of them.

Ever since that election we didn't discuss politics in our house. At least, not with each other. My mom still gets really angry at the television and talks trash to it, as if it can hear her. We just ignore her or try to keep the remote out of her hands all together.

Also, as a result of that fateful night in 1992, I don't discuss my personal politics with anyone. I do love a good debate, but usually I stay out of it unless I can assume the roll of devil's advocate. I never pick sides, at least not publicly, and no one knows who I vote for. Not even Andy.

I feel like politics are a very personal, individual thing. Much like I believe religious convictions to be an internal decision. I don't think it's anyone's business who I vote for or how I'm registered, anymore than it's their business how I worship. I try very hard not to be swayed by the opinions of those around me and I take in as much political information as I can handle, and from alternate sources so as to avoid a biased view.

What I will say is that, particularly now, it is extremely important for all those able to cast their vote this November. I hope that they are casting it as an educated American, and not as someone who comes to the polls and picks who they think is better looking. An uninformed vote is just as bad as not voting at all. So, if you are going to vote this year, regardless of who you cast your vote for, please make sure you know as much about each candidate as possible. Know who you are choosing. That is all any of us can ask.

Girlfriends

This past Tuesday I made a b-line for Blockbuster because it was the release date of The Sex and the City movie, which I had not yet seen. I think I may be the only person left on the planet who hadn't seen it. Well, except for my BFF Julie, who, like me, often finds herself with the option of going to the theater alone or waiting for the movie to come out on DVD. As I didn't make it to the theater alone to see it; I've been counting down the days to September 23 for a while now.

So Tuesday afternoon I turned out all the lights and shut the curtains tight in our living room and hunkered down for the long haul.

I loved it! I thought it was fantastic and gave a little more closure than the ending of the show did. Although, I have heard rumors of a sequel. I'm not yet sure how I feel about that.

Though I thought the movie was brilliant and it did manage to entertain me for the entire two and half hours of its running time, it left me with a feeling of melancholy. The whole time I was watching the film, I kept thinking about my girlfriends and how much I missed them. In particular my friends from college, Jenn, Shannon and Whitney. The four of us always related to the Sex and the City characters; as I'm sure many women do given the success of the series. But each of us seemed to have characteristics that matched a particular character. We were like the SATC girls in their twenties.

There is a particular place in the film that I thought for sure whoever wrote the screenplay must have been spying on us at some point.

The scene where Charlotte craps her pants was classic and not to far from real life in my group of friends.

**names and location are left out of the following in order to protect the innocent**

We had taken one of our many road trips and were at our desired location for the night. We had inflated an air mattress in the middle of the floor (a staple to any trip we took) and we were getting ready to tuck in for the night. It had been a long day on the road and we were exhausted. This particular trip we had decided to document on video. There were always multiple cameras at our fingertips, but we had never documented any of our shenanigans on tape. What better time than the present? Each night we sat together and propped the camera up on something semi-stable in order to give a "wrap-up" of the day's events. That night was no different and we all piled onto the air mattress to tell the camera how happy we were that the driving was over and we were stationary for the moment.

We were passing around a bag of chex mix (also ever present among the four of us) and sipping on our night caps while we talked over each other and spewed our thoughts for the camera. It was like a poorly filmed episode of The View. We wrapped it up and there was a moment of silence as one of us crossed the room to turn off the camera. And then it happened. The fart heard round the world.

(I need to interject here to say that I regularly embarrass myself with my constant gaseous bowels. I am the gassiest person I know, and they had all gotten used to me at that point. But it always gives me a little thrill of pleasure when someone else looses control and lets one rip.)

Everyone froze and for a second I know they thought it was me because the perpetrator was seated right next to me. But I knew better. That fart came from the most prim and proper of us. From the one who would rather die than have us know that she ever had gas. Our own personal Charlotte. Her face turned about twenty different shades of red. My eyes grew wide and I gapped at her, but it didn't take long for me to collect myself. "DID YOU JUST FART?!" And then we lost it. She hid her face, as if the camera hadn't caught everything that had just happened and I collapsed in laughter. We all collapsed in laughter, but I think I enjoyed it the most. Our friend was human after all, and she still is human, though she hasn't let us know it since that night.

Watching the movie and remembering all the fun we've had together really made me want to pick up the phone and call everyone. I haven't called anyone yet, because there is no such thing as a short call with these girls. We so seldom see each other or even get to talk these days that when we do; we spend a lot of time catching up. Hopefully there will be a girls weekend planned soon. I know I'm desperately in need of one.

These three women gave me something I had never had before. Usually my limit was one girlfriend at a time. I never traveled in a pack. Until I met them. They taught me so much about life and friendship and I still learn from them on a regular basis. I'm forever grateful for their love and their presence in my life.

Nirvana

No, not the band, the philosophical principal.

That is what fall is to me. And guess what? Fall has finally come around again.

There are many tangible reasons behind my love for this season: fall clothing, the changing of the leaves, the beautiful fall sky, fresh fall produce, festivals, lower temperatures, Halloween, Thanksgiving, fall decorations, new television programing, baking with cinnamon... I could go on and on.

However, the main reason that I love fall and hold it dear to my heart is totally imperceptible to anyone but me. Fall gives me a feeling; a feeling of nirvana. Something about this time of year makes everything right. Nothing can go wrong and even if it does I know it's going to be alright. Fall is my felix felicis.

It couldn't have come at a better time either. Lately, nothing seems right. Now that fall is here it is already starting to envelop me in its vast, welcoming arms and make me feel whole again; creeping it's way into my soul to heal all the wounds that have been left this past year.

It's good to have you back old friend, you've been gone too long.

Food for thought

Here is another quote out of my book. This one brings out the religious studies major in me.

"The question is not whether we are good at theology, or 'balanced' in our approach to problems of Christian Living. The question is, can we say; simply, honestly, not because we feel that as evangelicals we ought to, but because it is a plain matter of fact, that we have known God, and that because we have known God the unpleasantness we have had, or the pleasantness we have not had, through being Christians does no matter to us?" -J.I. Packer, "Knowing God"

Feel free to share your thoughts in my comments section. I'd love to hear them.





**I cleaned out my side bar. It was driving me crazy. I'm still following all of the blogs that were posted there, but I'm not sharing it with the world.**

Divine Intervention

How old are you and at what age did you know what you wanted to be when you grew up?

Hi, I'm Joanna and I'm 26. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.

There is a memory in the back of my brain that resurfaces from time to time when I have these identity crises. It's a memory from my childhood. I don't know how old I was; I'm going to guess about seven or eight. I was standing on the hearth in my grandparent's dining room and we had just finished a big family meal. One of those where it's like a small family reunion and I was surrounded by not just parents, grandparents and sibling, but also a lot of my extended family. My great aunt Norma Jean was there. I don't know why she always sticks out in this particular memory, but I can always see her face as clear as if she were standing in front of me.

I had been taking art classes for a few years and it had brought out a love for creating that I had never known was inside me. Oh sure I was imaginative and I liked playing with play dough and coloring with my Crayola's, but suddenly there were endless artistic resources at my fingertips. We created and crafted and OH THE JOY! of a teacher who encouraged us to put paint brush to paper and create whatever our hearts desired. Every week she would praise us with a fervor that, now looking back I realize, only a parent could muster considering some of the ridiculous things that came out of that art room. At the tender age of seven or eight I just knew that I wanted, no needed, to do this FOREVER. I was going to be an artist!!

But, somehow I also knew there wouldn't be any (much) money in creating beautiful works of art. I had never heard of a famous (read rich) artist. I knew I had to have a back up plan, or an alternate career that would allow me to produce my masterpieces, but still make a living.

My family knew of my love for my art classes and I'm pretty sure I had been showing off some of my spectacular work. Someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. They were, of course, prompting me to say that I wanted to be an artist so that they could praise me some more and encourage me in my endeavors, knowing that I probably would give it up as a hobby and decide on a more practical career path. But who were they to squash the dreams of a budding Monet at seven years old?

I obliged them. Beaming, I answered that I wanted to be an artist when I grew up. Oh, but I didn't stop there. I was going to be a lawyer and a doctor and an artist during my spare time. There was a silent pause, no doubt they were trying to figure out an appropriate way to respond to this revelation, and then they all laughed. Loud, booming, belly laughs. I was crushed. I don't remember exactly what all was said, but my Aunt Norma Jean was the only one who seemed the least bit encouraging about my chosen career path(s). Really, it's the laughter that stands out the most in my memory.

For six years I was the youngest member of my family and I delighted in every ray of spotlight that was shone on me. Sometimes I even demanded it. The only time I ever shied away from being doted on was when someone laughed at me. I was serious about everything I said and did and I never could understand why anyone would laugh. It usually crushed my world and sent me over the edge of the waterfall into tear land. I think this particular memory stands out because I knew there was something behind the laughter. I hadn't done something cute (at least I didn't think so) and I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out what the underlying tone was in those laughs.

It took me a long time to figure out exactly why they had laughed. They were laughing, not just at the ridiculous nature of my goals, but because I truly did believe I could do ANYTHING that I set my mind to. That's what my mother had told me. That's what they taught me in school. I was encouraged to think that way. What they didn't tell me was the reality of the situation. I could, in fact, do whatever I wanted. I could choose any path I wanted to take and I would have my entire family there to coach and encourage me along the way. But (and there is always a but), life is fleeting. We only have so much time. Sure, I could be a doctor and a lawyer and an artist, but when was I going to have time to live my life? Now, as I look back, I think they were laughing so that they didn't cry. In too short a time I was going to realize that I had to pick a path and stick with it. There wasn't going to be enough time to achieve all of my goals that I set on that day nearly twenty years ago. No one had the heart to break it to me, so they just laughed.

Now as an adult my goals are no more focused than they were when I was a wide eyed and hopeful child. I'm not a doctor or a lawyer, and depending on what your definition of artist is, I may or may not be that either. There are lots of words that can be used to define me: wife, daughter, sister, aunt, granddaughter, niece, cousin, anal retentive control freak; but none of those tell me what I want to DO with my life. What will define me? What is my purpose?

I was looking through one of my old quote books earlier today and I found the following quote that I copied out of a religious studies book from college. It gave me a much needed lift:

"...God has a purpose with each of us; that however insignificant we seem, however friendless, however hardly used, however ousted even from our natural place in this world's households,
God has a place for us; that however we lose our way in life we are not lost from His eye; that even when we do not think of choosing Him He in His Divine, all-embracing love chooses us, and throws about us bands from which we cannot escape." -Marcus Dods, The Expositor's Bible

Every time I read this it makes me feel a little bit better. It isn't the all encompassing answer I was looking for, but it gives me hope. It reminds me that my definition isn't finished yet, and I have the rest of my life to write it.

Writer's block?

Um, not so much. As a matter of fact I have anything but writer's block. I wake up daily with all kinds of crazy thoughts swirling around in my head.

So what's the problem? In my head all these thoughts link. They connect and it makes sense. But writing them out and publishing them for the interwebs to read? That is a little tricky. I have seriously considered sitting down here at my blog and just letting my stream of consciousness have it's way with a post. Then I remind myself that I can barely sort through my own thoughts, much less expect anyone who reads this mess to understand how I got from what to make for dinner that night to the current state of the economy to how I can get both of the bunnies to use their litter boxes all of the time.

I usually spend my time in the shower trying to sort it all out. I know. Crazy right? I promise myself that as soon as I get out of the shower I'm going to sit my ass in front of the computer and give you all what you want: The inner workings of my confusing brain. No? That isn't what you want? Well, then I guess that's why I haven't shared my thoughts with you in a while. Or because I confuse myself and by the time I get out of the shower I can't remember what I was planning on writing about.

These days things seem so uncertain. Once upon a time that would have been exciting to me, but now, not so much. I want to know. What is going to happen with the world we are living in? What is going to happen in my own life? If any of you can see the future please feel free to share it with me. It might help put my mind at ease. Or not. Either way, I'd like to know.

One thing I am certain of is that change is coming. I'm not just talking about what is happening with the presidential election or with our economy. I mean in my own life; change is coming. I can feel it. It isn't often that I get such a conviction, but I know that somehow something is going to be different in my life. Good or bad I can't tell, but different for sure.

*************************************************************************************

On a completely different note! I need to take a moment to wish a happy anniversary to Julie and Frank. Julie is my best friend and has been for nearly eleven years now. She and Frank got married exactly two weeks after Andy and I did.

I don't have a picture of them at their wedding. My beloved friend is not so good with sharing pictures online. I do have this one though, from the first time Julie met Frank's parents. I'm not sure why I have this. Perhaps it's because Julie forced me to do her makeup for the evening and stole my diamond hoop earrings (just for the night) and she thought I should have a memento for all of my hard work. Or it could be because she looks so damn cute and she knew that many years later I would have an outlet to share their picture with everyone in the world . So here you go world, Julie and Frank six and a half years ago:

Now, while I don't have a picture of Julie and Frank on their wedding day, I do have a picture of she and I on her wedding day. Because really, is the groom that important? I did her makeup this day too and her hair to boot. Really, you flatter me with your applause.

Happy Anniversary you guys!!! I hope you have many, many more.



**I read this post in my actual blog after I published it. I thought my eyes were going to pop out after trying to read the white on black. Why didn't someone tell me? Ouch. Sorry guys, that won't happen again.**