TV

I'm missing the oscars tonight. All the stars, the awards, the fashion!

Ah well, I'd probably rather see an episode of Good Eats or Alias anyway.

Armpits: Another Perspective

Here is my roommate's ode to her armpits:

An Ode to My Armpits

below my shoulders
but above my knees
give me some hair
more hair please

outside of my breasts
but inside of my arms
you may spot some hair
please dont be alarmed

dark and curly
the fuzz just thrills me

it lathers up nicely
with a bar of soap
on cold, rainy days
it helps me to cope

dont dare take a razor
to these pits of mine
this hair gives me freedom
that's so divine

An Ode to my Roommate's Armpits

Like two bushy mustaches grown upside down,
Or two furry caterpillars crawling on the ground,
Or hairy recepticles of sweat and dirt and grime,
Which give off a somewhat funky odor from time to time,

They stare at me from sleeveless shirts
And jump around from the force she exerts
And remind me of those nasty Parisian lasses
At whom grown men would never make passes

Soon they’ll grow to Tribble-like size
And self-reproduce in front of out eyes.
The mere sight of them turns me sick and green:
My roommate’s hairy armpits, the grossest things I’ve ever seen.

For the Grammar Nazis

Saw a poster in the window of Rite-Aid yesterday that read, "Our pharmacists are trained in diabetes!"

As if diabetes is some great martial art. "Don't come near me; I'm trained in diabetes!"

Repeat after me: "We have joy, not fun. . ."

So last night the big guy in charge of our program here (one of our friends calls him the "Big Burrito") says to us, "This Friends and Family Weekend is not for entertainment; and you know what entertainment is, we've been over that. No, it is for you to ask the Mission Question: How can I best love God and people at this moment?"

And I thought, "Screw that. When else am I going to be entertained this year, apart from my roommate whose favorite season is strawberry season?"

. . .And Call me in the Morning

Things never seem as bad the next morning, do they?

(Perhaps because my brain doesn't wake up till 10, but STILL. . .)

Solitary Moaning

(I think these posts are like my own little psalms; some of them are happy and full of hope and some. . .are not.)

“ ‘The only time we waste is the time we spend thinking we are alone.’ ” ~Mitch Albom, The Five People you Meet in heaven

And yet I cannot help it. I don’t believe that I have ever in my life felt so alone. And I don’t feel it in a constant, throbbing way, but it’s always there, right under the surface, easily seen and felt when something small creates a ripple.

Something small like a discussion/conflict over miniscule and unimportant things which ends up taking on grandiose proportions in this tiny apartment which I inhabit. Something small like grieving the imminent demise of a friendship I was growing to feel comfortable in as well as the death of my childhood church. Something small like my family gathering without me. Something small like knowing myself to perhaps be the only thinker unafraid to “tell the truth the way I see it” in the program here. Something small like having my freedom to chose how I unwind ripped away. Something small like spending what seems like all my time with the same people. Something small like being faced daily with things like domestic violence, drug abuse, homelessness, racism, neglected children. Something small like being so far away from my family and friends.

I cannot help but think of Oxford, of all those talks we were given about culture shock, of being told that our friends would get sick of hearing our stories about our experiences since they wouldn’t be able to picture things the way we saw them.

And so I ask those of you who love me, are you willing to walk through this valley with me? Is it even possible for you to understand what I see, hear and experience here? Is it possible for me to adequately describe it to you? And, perhaps most importantly, do you have it in you to continue to listen to my whining?

This is no easy task, no easy decision. This is my year of suffering, I’m afraid, and the next six months will be hard. But I know I can’t do it alone. So, are you for me or against me? Will you walk this valley with me? Will you stand at the top of the mountain, look down and cheer me on? Will you pray for me daily and ask God to go where you cannot? To comfort me when you cannot? I openly admit that I need all the help I can get.

Learnin'

Being here, in this city, on this team is an interesting experience. Most of the people in the program here are “feelers” and not “thinkers.” (See Myers-Briggs.) I, however, am a thinker.

Most people in the city know how they feel about Jesus, but have not necessarily grown up with the biblical knowledge and experience I have (thank you, Church of Christ).

This makes our team bible study interesting. We’re currently studying women of the bible and have made it through Esther and Ruth so far. While it has been good for me to reread these stories and examine what I believe about them as opposed to what I have been taught, I really don’t feel I’m learning much. Especially not as much as my teammates who have never read either of these books before.

I know that one of my “gifts” is teaching, and I feel like I’m using this gift during our bible study–and during curriculum–but I would like to learn something substantial in return. I feel like I’m always teaching and rarely learning (especially as far as biblical knowledge is concerned).

Where is my mentor Jeanene when I need her? I’m not finished yet; I still need lots of her help. I need a teacher.